by David Dower
So today was a banner day in the Hartford workshop of Resurrection. Playwright Daniel Beaty and director Oz Scott were to meet all day with composer Daniel Bernard Roumain to identify those places in the text that were openings for DBR to dream his way into the piece. Oz had told the actors they were welcome to come around but were not called—it was a day off for them.
The conversation began somewhat choppily, with Daniel Beaty, Oz and DBR each having different visions of how to incorporate the possibilities of the music for this weekend's presentations. A period of talking in circles about what it might be and whether it would overwhelm the actors or obscure the text. Nothing decided, nothing really communicated. Words seemed to be inadequate as a place to actually jump in. Maybe this isn't going to work at all.
Finally DBR pulls out his violin and just starts improvising around moments he has in his mind from hearing the first read through on Wednesday. Oz lights up, starts to point to specific passages in the text that he was interested in hearing supported by the music. Daniel Beaty contributes backstory about the ways that music foregrounded and backgrounded even as he was writing it. The three of them are suddenly in motion together, zeroing in on moments in the texts, the tone of the emotion, the role of the violin. Peter Jay Fernandez wanders in—he's playing "50"—just to see what is happening. Before you know it, he's playing with DBR, giving him sections of his text and the violin riding under, behind, and around it. And this is not your normal violin sound. It's a drum, it's a scream, it's a hummingbird's wings. Bill Grimmette, across the room checking his e-mail, slides over and starts giving DBR some of his text. Bill's reading "60", the Bishop. Psalmayene 24 shows up. He's reading "30". Now the collaboration gets really intense. Psalm, as many of you know, is a musician himself and fronts the house band at Bus Boys and Poets. So he understands the exchange immediately. Oz hears something new in the monologue, in which "30" reveals he's infected his girlfriend with HIV. He changes up Psalm's approach. He's got Psalm bringing only the anger and the confusion of his monologue and the violin carrying all the softness, the sadness. A pause. Both violin and actor are still. Psalm resumes, talking about how he and his girl held each other and cried. Goosebumps on my arm. I look up at Daniel Beaty, he's feeling 'em too. The violin steals back in under Psalm as he finishes the story. There's a table full of men with their eyes welling up...
You know it's a special project when the actors wander in on their day off just to "see what's up." And they stay and play with this whole new element, surprising themselves, the director and the author.
And yes, Thuliso Dingwall, the bright spot reading the 10-year-old, shows up with his mother just "to say hello". Immediately he's lobbying Oz and DBR to keep his improvised rap to the deconstructed theme from Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood that he dropped at the end of rehearsal yesterday. Before long he's in the mix, focused, and contributing his own presence to the musical mystery tour.
So, today's mission accomplished: we found the path to letting in the extraordinary compositional collaboration with Daniel Bernard Roumain. And took the bond of company a notch deeper. And on we roll.
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