http://suit-of-sables.livejournal.com/ (
suit-of-sables.livejournal.com) wrote in
fandomtownies2008-04-08 03:10 pm
Entry tags:
The Boards - Tuesday 4-07
Geoffrey is inside, starting to wonder if maybe his mystical toss-from-the-car might have meant for him to go the opposite direction on the causeway.
The sign is still up, though.

Next to the sign was another, written only on paper.
Casting for Titus Andronicus. Knock.
...there seems to be some movement inside, anyway..
[ooc: trying this again (thank you RL); tag as you can if you're interested in working with Geoffrey][as it's Geoffrey... language warning]
The sign is still up, though.

Next to the sign was another, written only on paper.
...there seems to be some movement inside, anyway..
[ooc: trying this again (thank you RL); tag as you can if you're interested in working with Geoffrey][as it's Geoffrey... language warning]

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"Oh? Well, it's nice to see an actress for once." And despite how that might have sounded out of anyone else, there was nothing in the least bit sleezy. Skeezy, perhaps, because the man does forget to eat and sleep and other such things as he figured out his vision for the play, but not sleezy.
"Did you come with anything prepared? What's your experience? Do you know anything about the play?"
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"All right," he said. He reached behind what used to be the bar and he pulled out a text. He tossed it towards her a second later.
"The marked page (http://www.monologuearchive.com/s/shakespeare_020.html), that, there. Read that over a few times and see what you can get out of that. Then I want you to stand up there," and he pointed at his stage, his empty space, "and I want you to deliver it."
He waved her off before she could have even thought of answering yet.
"Don't worry about memorizing. I just want to hear what you get out of it."
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She didn't expect to have to do this. Maybe read lines with someone like they do on TV. But this? Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.
Carefully she focused her attention on what she was reading and realized half-way through that it was a woman's submissiveness in it's purest form. Okay, it was wordy, flowery, but there it was. Delicately phrased. She wondered what to think about that.
Amber made her way to the stage to stand still in the space he indicated. "Mr. Tennant?" she said tentatively. "I'm not sure I can deliver this and be honest about what I might say."
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"Is that so? And why is that?"
Whatever he'd been when she'd walked in, he was something slightly different now. More alive. More focused.
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Because this was a stumbling block everyone had to go over and he thought, considering who he was thinking of casting her as, it might be a very interesting production if they managed to get past it.
"Do you think she meant every word she was saying?"
He didn't ask if she was familiar with the play yet. They'd get there.
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"Tell me. You know what you're talking about and you know you know what you're talking about. You just think I'm going to tell you you're wrong."
He sat down, slowly.
"I'm not, you know. Going to tell you you're wrong. I want to hear what you have to say."
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"I think that a woman doesn't necessarily have to like what she is doin' to respect her husband, but on the other hand she can enjoy it immensely and seemingly act like she doesn't, just for spite."
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"So... do you think you can say those lines and mean them... even if the lines don't mean what they seem to mean?"
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And he gestured to the stage.
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Then she prepared herself. Truthfully, there wasn't much to prepare since she was reading, still, when she began to read (http://www.monologuearchive.com/s/shakespeare_020.html), she read slowly, with meaning, stressing certain words over others as she saw fit; putting feeling into almost every single word. Or so she hoped.
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When she was done, he was grinning.
"Yes... yes, I definitely think you can."
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"So what now, Mr. Tennant?"
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"Hi?"
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"I'm glad you came back. How've you been? Anything catastrophic out there I missed?"
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"I've... been here. Wondering if this is going to work. There aren't many people here, are there?"
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"Well, I'm here. And I've got a building, and plumbing, and a couple of people coming by. It's better than it's been a lot of the time."
He scratched his chin.
"You come back with something prepared this time?"
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The passage he'd chosen wasn't predictable to anyone, though only because they didn't know him well enough.
It started, "What incensed him the most was the blatant jokes of the ones who pass it all off as a jest, pretending to understand everything and in reality not knowing their own minds."
He got into his stride after that.
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"On the other hand what incensed him more inwardly was the blatant jokes of the cabmen and so on, who passed it all off as a jest, laughing immoderately, pretending to understand everything, the why and the wherefore, and in reality not knowing their own minds, it being a case for the two parties themselves unless it ensued that the legitimate husband happened to be a party to it owing to some anonymous letter from the usual boy Jones, who happened to come across them at the crucial moment in a loving position locked in one another's arms drawing attention to their illicit proceedings and leading up to a domestic rumpus and the erring fair one begging forgiveness of her lord and master upon her knees and promising to sever the connection and not receive his visits any more if only the aggrieved husband would overlook the matter and let bygones be bygones, with tears in her eyes, though possibly with her tongue in her fair cheek at the same time, as quite possibly there were several others. He personally, being of a sceptical bias, believed, and didn't make the smallest bones about saying so either, that man, or men in the plural, were always hanging around on the waiting list about a lady, even supposing she was the best wife in the world and they got on fairly well together for the sake of argument, when, neglecting her duties, she chose to be tired of wedded life, and was on for a little flutter in polite debauchery to press their attentions on her with improper intent, the upshot being that her affections centred on another, the cause of many liaisons between still attractive married women getting on for fair and forty and younger men, no doubt as several famous cases of feminine infatuation proved up to the hilt."
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"Yes. Yes I've definitely got a place for you."
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"Okay."
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"Do you have anything prepared? Experience? Was there anyone in particular you were looking to play?"
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He pointed to the stage and to the text that sat on it (http://www.monologuearchive.com/s/shakespeare_020.html).
"There's a marked page. Take a look through the monologue and try that on for size."
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