Raring To Go

There's always a point in the preparing of a play when all you want to do is get on with it. Everything is ready, you've done as much as you can really do without killing the spirit of it - being overprepared can be as bad as being underprepared. And you just want and need an audience to lend you that je ne sais quoi that is the point of the whole endeavour. The actors need the adrenalin and the unpredictability that are the reasons why acting in a theatre has to be a better thrill than working in film or TV.

Tomorrow is the opening night of Closer. We've done our dress rehearsals, we all know what we're doing, the director thought that last night was "an absolute blinder" and the general feeling is a positive one. It was a bit of a funny one for me last night as I feel just exhausted. I've not been sleeping very well - the excitement at everything coming together last week, nerves, the responsibility of the costumes, and actually a certain amount of emotional upheaval. It's funny but I've really felt that it's burrowed under my skin. I don't know why, partly I think it's because the entire focus of the play is on the relationships and the associated emotions. There's no let up from the inner lives of the characters - it goes from intense conversation to intense conversation. It's very difficult to switch off from. So, due to the sheer weariness, last night felt a little bit like I had to really push it hard. I had a note from the previous night's dress rehearsal about always standing in the same position, which I had been worrying about but wasn't sure what to do - just change the legs? And then I got out there and looked a) like I was about to fall over or b) like I didn't know what to do with myself. Both of which were true. I also forgot a costume change, ironically as I had designed them, which meant that Big Sis as the dresser didn't think to correct me. I got the change done but then forgot to take on a prop and had to improvise. It's funny though, as soon as you distract yourself like that it really changes the way you play it and particularly useful for that scene as I'm supposed to be completely wrongfooted on my entrance. My Dad tells a story of a director who moves props marginally on a set so that actors are forced out of doing things automatically and it does work. As soon as you hit that point where you are thinking on your feet and trying to listen to what you're saying and what people are saying to you, it does become a bit more real.

The plan for tonight is that I just chill, I'm hoping that this helps with the whole sleeping thing. If all else fails, there is the wine! However, the main part of the problem is that I really, really want to get on with it. No matter how tired I am, I just wish it was Thursday night at 6.30 and I could get settled in the dressing rooms, talk bollocks with McFarley for a bit while changing (it fascinates me that she, one of the most beautiful people I've ever actually met in real life, has issues with the way that she looks. Us women are a bit mental), then get on with doing what I love best. I just wish life onstage lasted a bit longer. I like a world where I know what I'm saying all the time, where I know how to react, where I'm not goofy or weird. I like feeling an audience move with me, or against me depending on the part, it's such an awesome sensation making people laugh or cry or gasp. I hope this difficult, emotional, funny and cynical play grabs people in the way that I feel I've been grabbed by it in the process. All we can do is hope and I just can't wait until I know.