John CarterChapter 21
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CastawayChapter 40 free porn video
Our comfort level was back to high by the time we finished the last Traviata. It had been a tiring run, but the final performance went as well as the first; my first professional venture as a lead in a major house had been a spectacular success. We had Tuesday off, but rehearsals for Tosca began Wednesday and, with only two days before our first performance Friday, the press was definitely on.
Minaghieri and Oliver had both arrived Tuesday. I renewed my rather brief acquaintance with the conductor as he was checking into the hotel; he shook my hand enthusiastically and then addressed virtually everything he said to Camilla. "You two are still together? Wonderful! Am I going to see some more of that magic on stage?"
"Yes, Gerry," she told him dryly. "Maybe even magicker. We've put in some time on it, you know."
"And Act II?" he demanded.
"Under control, Gerry," she said. "Coming to the rehearsals?"
"Just the second, my sweet, that one's my very own." And he flounced off, calling "come on, darling" to the bellman who was pushing a cart filled to overflowing with luggage.
We met Minaghieri in the hotel bar and Camilla introduced us. He gave me an openly assessing once-over as we shook hands. "So this is the conqueror of our ice queen," he said with an amused smile.
"Mario!" she protested.
"Camilla, you know well the name," he said. He spoke quite fluent English with only a touch of an accent and the occasional odd phrasing. "I have heard you to use it yourself. But the man who has breached these castle walls must be very formidable. And I hear is also great baritone."
"He is," she told him firmly. "Get to know him, Mario, you're going to be seeing a lot of him in the future."
Minaghieri inclined his head slightly. "One who sings with Mario Minaghieri and Camilla St. John will surely become known," he said.
"Your voice is exceeded only by your ego, Mario," she teased.
He shrugged. "It is not I who say this, Camilla, but others who know. I am only humble man myself, surely you know that."
It was hard not to laugh, but I managed it.
Rehearsal was set to begin at 10:00 a.m. Wednesday, and there was a serious overtone this time. Fortunately the Traviata sets had been struck and the borrowed one for Tosca was already in place. Since each act is in a different location, a basic design was supplemented by flats representing the various sites—a church, Scarpia's inner sanctum and a jail—which could be shuffled on and off between acts. But we wouldn't need those for the rehearsals, so we had no technical crew to trouble us.
Karpathian greeted Minaghieri effusively as the three of us, who with Marilyn had walked over from the hotel together, entered through the stage door. He was equally happy to see Camilla again. Me he simply ignored, just as he had during the Traviata rehearsals; evidently neither my performance (assuming he'd seen it) nor the glowing newspaper writeups had altered his disdain toward me.
The plan was to do tentative blocking—stage movements—for all three acts today, with a shorter session planned for Thursday with the orchestra and full chorus to cement it in everyone's mind. In past productions I'd done we sometimes never saw either orchestra or chorus until opening night, but Oliver had apparently insisted on a full run-through and one didn't argue with a conductor of his stature.
Act I took all morning and into the afternoon; Karpathian got finicky about the little dance involving the Sacristan and the choristers that Scarpia interrupts when he enters. Frankly I couldn't see much difference between what they started with and what he finally approved, but eventually we got there and I made my entrance—authoritatively, just as Camilla and I had rehearsed back home.
"No, no, Scarpia, not like that!" Karpathian shrieked. "You come in quiet, softly, nobody sees you until you sing."
Uh-oh. I supposed that was one way to play it, but I didn't like it. My idea about Scarpia was that he didn't do anything unobtrusively. I didn't want to start off arguing with a stage director who clearly didn't like me anyway, but it didn't feel right.
But I didn't have to argue. Camilla immediately spoke up. "Lawrence, dear, I don't think Scarpia goes anywhere much unnoticed," she said sweetly. "He's the most powerful man in Rome, remember? At least that's what I say after I kill him, and you don't want me to look like an idiot saying it, do you?"
Karpathian looked for just an instant like he was prepared to challenge her, but then his face collapsed. "Very well, Camilla, perhaps you have a point. You may keep the entrance, Scarpia."
It went on exactly like that for the entirety of Act II. If Mario or Camilla said something it was rearranged to their liking; and he called them both by their first names. He didn't quite refuse to give me directions, as he had for most of Traviata, but he kept it to a minimum, wouldn't call me anything at all except my character's name, and made pretty plain that he'd brook no backtalk from me.
I took it right up to my death scene, which Camilla and I played exactly as we'd set it up back in my cabin. I lay still as the stage piano played the act's long, soft final music and Camilla walked through the extended bit of mostly mime that Tosca does over Scarpia's body.
Miracle
- 21.02.2021
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