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Today, in response to defamatory comments in the Macedonian press from the theatre management last night, the creative team released the following statement to local television and print media:
"We the creative team of Alcmaeon in Corinth were invited by the NTB to realise Colin Teevan's version of Euripides' lost play from his Macedonian trilogy.
We took this as a privilege and have pursued our work with diligence and a great sense of responsibility to honour the Macedonian theatrical heritage. But, since we arrived on July 14th it has become increasingly obvious that the management had neither the funds nor the will to realise the agreed production. In spite of all our attempts at communicating with the management prior to our arrival, we had no advance warning as to the theatre's difficulties regarding finance and management. Thus, we strongly believe that we have been brought here under false pretences.
The management of NTB have been demanding changes in set, concept, venue and technical facilities. These changes have greatly compromised the show as well as everyone involved, not the least the author's rights. Yesterday, we were asked to asses the current state of the production and find a way of producing an alternative show concept in a different venue and cut down to whatever material and technical resources the theatre is currently capable of providing. At the same time, the MD of NTB, made public accusations that are not only incorrect and preposterous but are also defamatory. For example, it is the theatre MD who is solely responsible for the sanctioning of theatre's expenditure.
This current situation clearly shows that NTB is not in fact fulfilling their obligations to the creative team, their actors or the people of Macedonia. We have been forced into an impossible position, threatened and defamed by the very body that has invited us here and are finding it impossible to work. By making the circumstances of the production impossible, we believe, the theatre are de facto cancelling the show and are thus in breach of all our contracts.
The issues of copyright infringement and the abuse of our moral and human rights according to international law are currently being discussed.
Colin Teevan, Gideon Davey, Nikola Kodjabashia, Sasha C. Damjanovski, Ilina Angelovska"
Sadly, the serious problems within the production have continued since my last update, and during this time I have felt it best to not post anything here. The following statement to the press was just issued, and I will update on what happens next soon. I will also fill in the incredible backstory that has led to this point.
"We, the creative team of the show Alcmaeon in Corinth, have been invited by the National Theatre Bitola to realise this show and have arrived in good faith and willing to work, in July this year.
However, in spite of all promises from and agreements with the management of the theatre in the past six months, we have arrived to Macedonia to insufficient funds for the realisation of the accepted scenography, costumes, choreography, music and sound for the show. This situation compromises Colin Teevan's moral rights as author of the text under international copyright law. It also means that we, the creative team, have been contracted under false pretences.
Our attempts to continue working and make compromises for the past four weeks are well documented.
Whilst we have met with huge support and commitment from the actors of the theatre, our concerns and protests to the extremely unprofessional situation and working conditions have been ignored by the management. One small example of this is the letter to the Cultural Minister of 7th August, this year.
Today, we find ourselves forced by the management of the theatre to continue working in extremely unprofessional conditions and deliver a show of hugely compromised quality, or otherwise they will not pay the remainder of our fees and hold us in breach of contract.
In the compromising of the agreed production, the National Theatre Bitola is in breach of international copyright laws and representatives of the author will be left with no choice but to withdraw the rights to the play Alcmaeon in Corinth.
- Colin Teevan, Gideon Davey, Nikola Kodjabashia, Sasha C. Damjanovski, Ilina Angelovska"
Rehearsal resumed this morning. But what a week it has been.
Since my last post, the company's faith has been restored and dashed and then restored again. Money has been somehow found. Essential orders for materials were evaded but are now finally placed. Support for the production has been assured.
When rehearsal started again at 10 am this morning company morale seemed somewhat mended. By the conclusion of the day the theatre officially had new management, and revelry in the theatre bar continues as I write this now.
We have the Ilinden (national holiday) weekend to recoup. In that time I will write a full post to tell the story, as best I can, as to what has transpired.
Some very evocative photos of the Chorus taken during rehearsal by Sasha Damjanovski.
At the beginning of rehearsal this morning Colin announced that rehearsals are now suspended. The promised funds for the production budget mysteriously cannot be accounted for, and this suggests mismanagement that goes well beyond the excuse of the government elect not being able to release funds. As Gideon explains, the set and costumes are not extravagantly expensive – but absolutely nothing can be purchased at the moment as there is no cash on hand. This is preventing the creative team to deliver the show that have contractually agreed upon.
Colin apologised to the cast, saying that he believes that the cast and the show have been deeply compromised by the theatre’s management.
Rehearsal may resume at 3pm tomorrow, if the management can meet this deadline with the minimum budget of funds guaranteed.
Walking through the Stage Door of the National Theatre of Macedonia, Bitola there are lots of these "no gun" stickers:
At first I was slightly alarmed… just how dangerous is it to make theatre in Macedonia? However rather than being a clue that the seemingly friendly cast are secretly gun-toting maniacs, instead it turns out to be a leftover from a national anti-gun campaign of many years ago. Now I read the stickers as a little poetic reminder that perhaps creating art should always have an element of danger, though checking unnecessary weaponry at the door can’t be a bad idea.
To the left of this Stage Door are the administration offices, to the right is a small cinema kitted out with a piano on a stage. Our rehearsal room is down a couple of levels, and from here the labyrinth really begins. It feels like everyday I discover a new props room or costume storage space, even a whole stage I didn’t know about - all foreign fantasy lands whispering stories of past productions to me. Slightly bizarrely, I am also now living upstairs in a converted dressing room, repelete with stage relay tannoy in one corner. Colin jokes that living there makes me the theatre cat. I like this idea: padding about the corridors with whiskers aquiver, a quiet and curious witness to backstage goings-on.
The theatre is housed in the Centre for Culture complex which was built in the 1980s after the town decided to demolish the old theatre building (where I am told Sarah Bernhardt once played). Outside the theatre currently hang posters for BitFest 08, Bitola’s annual cultural festival, which ‘Alcmaeon in Corinth’ is part of. There are also posters from recent productions, and their titles suggest to me a preference for some pretty serious theatre: ‘Drums in the Night’ (Brecht), ‘The Vagina Monologues’ (Ensler) and ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ (Shakespeare). So, no light’n’fluffy ‘High School Musical’ here in Bitola. I guess the long-standing government support of the theatre company means the programming choices can be more courageous and less commercially pressured than a relatively-sized theatre in Britain. What’s interesting is that there’s also an ingrained cultural expectation that theatre should naturally be bold and internationally-minded.
The company structure of an ensemble of actors in constant full employment makes a stark contrast to the experience of most British actors. I’ll report in more detail when I have a chance to interview the actors, but it’s an extraordinary experience to watch actors who have worked their whole careers in the one company. For some there’s an established rhythm to the way that they’re used to working, though this has been disrupted to some extent by this rehearsal process. On one level this is reflected in the schedule of the working day. So far rehearsal days here have followed the traditional Continental repertory pattern. This accounts for performing a show in the evening, splitting the day into a morning session of 10am-2pm, returning for 7-10pm for rehearsal or a performance. Another reason for this schedule is apparently the intense summer heat outside, although it doesn’t really affect us in the rehearsal room as it’s quite cool there. For those used to “British rehearsal times” (10am-6pm with an hour lunch break) this takes some adjusting.
As it turns out that as none of the company members are currently performing in the evenings, some say the split day is less convenient for them anyway. By Saturday of the second week Colin proposes the remaining two weeks in the rehearsal room observe “the British way”, sensitively putting this idea to a show of hands for or against to decide. Whilst it’s clearly not unanimously agreed to, there’s an interesting flicker of resistance to the process of voting, and it is said that those who’ve objected will compromise anyway. I wonder if this hints at the history of how decisions are made within the company, or perhaps to on a different scale to the experience of democracy here. (Maybe I am reading too much into it? I can’t be sure.)
On the voting theme, it transpires that the recent national elections have a considerable impact upon the construction of the set. As I understand it, the government elect doesn’t have the power to sign cheques, therefore the theatre can’t access their budget from the Ministry of Culture. This means the materials to make the set can’t be paid for, and against the countdown to opening night this is a real concern. Even the delay in the working with the scenography causes problems: how can the action be blocked in rehearsal properly without the set? Heck, will we even ever get the set? What about the rest of the production budget? Needless to say, this causes the creative team real headaches.
That said, you’d never know in the rehearsal room that such stresses were occurring outside. It’s been week of hard work rewarded with many important discoveries. Keri and the chorus have developed movements that range from some slinky music-video choreography for the bordello scenes, to twitchy and ant-like for the prologue (trust me here - the ants are important). Building on the first week, the presence of Hera (the presiding goddess of this play, played by Kristina Hristova Nikolova) is now integrated into many of the scenes as a silent but very active character. Petar Gorko’s characterisation of aging rockstar Alcmaeon is drawing inspiration from the swagger of Lou Reed, and the publicity images for the show will reflect this. At a very rough run-through on Saturday there’s the chance to stand back and see what has been achieved over this past two weeks. The emerging playing styles borrow from or reference seemingly random pages of the catalogue of theatre history, but it’s careful and truthful work. Somehow it all makes sense. As for understanding the ants – well, you’ll have to wait till my next blog entry.
Hereklea is an incredibly beautiful space - I think far more so than Ohrid. I made another (slightly dodgy) video of what it looks like from centre stage. Below that is my first attempt at video blogging. Even more dodgy.
A short video clip I made when we visited Ohrid amphitheatre, so you can get a sense of what the space is like...
(*Transl: How do you say that in Macedonian?)
[Image: the Macedonian part of the title page of the script]It was when I first saw the bilingual script of the play that it truly hit me that this play was to be rehearsed in two different languages. I think the script itself looks beautiful: the English original running down the left hand side of the page, matched line-for-line on the right with the elegant Cyrillic lettering of Macedonian. (You can see an image of this here.) The play will be performed in Macedonian with English surtitles, but because of the English-speaking members of the creative team, the play is rehearsed in two languages as well. Sasha deftly translates the directions and ideas that flow thick and fast between Colin and the actors, and clarifies points of reference if there’s any ambiguity. At times when there’s no neat translation Sasha will offer both the literal expression and then explain the intention (my favourite example being an English phrase for acknowledging a misleading direction: “a bum note”).
Having already had several read-throughs during a workshop week in March this year, this first week starts with detailed text-based work. A pattern forms in which a scene is read by the actors whilst seated, then Colin prompts questions for analysis of what’s going on in the scene, or what a character’s motives might be for particular actions. There’s no real time limit on this discussion, but with some gentle nudging the rehearsal then tends to move towards trying some basic staging “on our feet”, with script in hand. The actors are very physical, and even in the first seated read you can see how their bodies are responding the emotions of the text, and then naturally integrate a few simple props. The way they move seems to push their reading of the text quickly deeper, and they identify what “feels wrong” immediately. Although they are clearly enjoying this way of working, some actors are apologetic that they’re not “hitting the right note” first up, although this is of course not expected so early on. I learn that usually the company spend the initial weeks of rehearsal sitting around a table in discussion, and then physicalising the action much later when they’re more familiar with the text. From then on they rehearse with blocking on the actual stage rather than the rehearsal room. By contrast, it’s quite rare in Britain to work on the stage until the very final phase of technical rehearsal. It’s not necessarily a better or worse way of working, but for this play it seems that being in the smaller rehearsal room at this point focuses attention more on the fine details of psychology, movement and the structure of the text rather than the relationship to the performance space.
The large main stage of Bitola Theatre doesn’t lie dark though, as it is used for other concurrent rehearsals, at this point for music. Observing these rehearsals is a new challenge for me because there’s no translation into English like there is in the downstairs rehearsal room with Colin and Sasha. Fortunately, many ideas are demonstrated through instruments rather than described in words. Whilst I may miss the exactness of some of the references and instructions, I think that the compensation is that my senses are more attuned to the rhythms and pace of the music. The closest experience I’ve had to this is watching opera without surtitles: I get the gist of what’s going on, but the most impressive, engaging moments are when I forget that I don’t understand the exact words but instead feel the music and emotion reverberate through me, and my instinct assures me that I know the meaning of the song. These rehearsals are quite casual, and Nikola tells me later that his rule in rehearsal is simple: “don’t think, just do”. Based on the results he gets through the collective improvisations and brainwaves, it seems an effective way of working. I find myself humming the catchy tunes that Nikola refers to as “turbofolk”. Later I hope to post some sound files of this so you can hear what I am writing about; I promise you’ll end up humming them yourself.
Thursday and Friday were dedicated to the brothel scenes – this involves big chorus sequences, and the music is very sexy and percussion-driven. The only male actor to play a prostitute in the Temple of Aphrodite, Nikola Projcevski, injects a wonderful campness to his character Ground Beater, improvising poses like a ‘Page 3 Girl’ or miming tucking his dick between his legs. His dragged-up performance of femininity is very funny to watch, but also instinctively clever to the dramaturgy of this play, as it echoes the theatricality of the doubled-up casting of the twins Tisiphone and her brother Amphilochus. These early physical discoveries are the sort of thing that may never have happened if we only sat around with our noses in our scripts, but it also sets up a stylistic theatrical language for the production without anyone explicitly articulating a single defining trend. Much of this movement also naturally transcends the language barrier in the room: sometimes there’s delayed laughter once Sasha translates a joke that has some people are cracking up, but when something is physically funny it hits everyone at the same time and we’re all united by the moment.
I’ve written accounts of rehearsals before (you can read two examples here and here) but this process makes familiar patterns of theatre-making new again. I feel like I have alien eyes and ears to everything that I’m seeing. I’ll soon post some pictures of the company in rehearsal, as well as some photographs of the Ohrid and Hereklea amphitheatres as I visit them this weekend.
So, let us weave these words,
The last stray and fraying threads,
Let us weave them into a fine peplos
A dress fit for a goddess. Begin then.
- Hera, in the opening scene of Alcmaeon in Corinth
Alcmaeon in Corinth is a play about history: the fragments that remain, but also the personal histories that everyone carries, and sometimes hide. Colin Teevan wrote the play after twenty extant lines of a ‘lost’ play by Euripides. Originally performed as Cock of the North at Live Theatre Newcastle in 2004, the play has been translated into Macedonian by poet Bogomil Djuzil. A large-scale production will be presented this summer by the National Theatre of Macedonia, Bitola, with Colin directing and Nikola Kodjabashia as composer.
Offered an invitation to observe the making of this unique production, I approached Arts Council England for a grant to fund the making of this blog on the premise that theatre rehearsal processes are rarely recorded in detail. A performance may be subject to public review and some archival traces, but mostly theatre is an art that tends to leave little evidence of the collaborative process that created it. One of the consequences is that we lose much of what we know or have experienced as practitioners. The rich stories that could be told instead fade into vague anecdotes or complete obscurity.
That said, whilst part of my task is to counter this ephemerality, this rehearsal diary can never be a full history - if such a thing can exist anyway. Over the next six weeks I will offer pieces of observation, tracking the action from the early rehearsals through to the debut at the Ohrid Festival and the performance at the ancient theatre of Heraklea, Bitola.
I’ll also record perceptions of the culture of theatre-making in Macedonia, how this differs from the British traditions I’m familiar with, as well as how the personal histories and experiences of people involved in this production inform it. The night before rehearsals begin, I meet up with Colin, Sasha Damjanovski (assistant director and production translator), and Keri Nevzati (choreographer) for dinner on the lively main street of Bitola, Maršal Tito. Colin enquires after Keri’s background, and she tells us she grew up in Serbia but after training as a dancer in St Petersburg she moved Skopje during the war. “We’re all exiles here” Colin jokes. He’s Irish, Sasha’s Macedonian, I’m Australian, and all of us have expatriated to England. We’re only a few of the international flavours of this production though; it’s a truly multicultural experience.
As for the context of this production, to my antipodean perspective it’s hard to fathom the long and complex history of the Balkans. Even crossing the border from Greece to Macedonia (sorry – “FYROM”) as we did on the weekend felt tense, as the naming dispute within the region fails to relent. Evidence of the contrasting waves of influence are all around us, in the beautiful 18th and 19th century architecture of Bitola, the stern Sovietism of the massive cultural complex that houses the indoor theatres, and the magnificent Hellenic amphitheatres of Ohrid and Hereklea. Euripides himself wrote his final plays at the court of the King of Macedon, dying in exile from Athens in 406 BC.
Alcmaeon, the protagonist of the play, is himself is an outsider to his home town of Corinth, and his return is only out of necessity. He is a rock star figure: famous, charismatic and a “superlative seducer”. Yet he has been haunted by the Erinyes (Furies) since he killed his mother, and for peace he seeks to retrieve his mother’s necklace under the instruction of the oracle of Delphi. Alcmaeon’s arrival in Corinth is not without consequences for others. Sixteen year old Tisiphone and her twin brother Amphilochus (played by the same actress, Gabriela Petrusevska) are sent away by Creusa, the Queen. Alcmaeon had left them as infants, with the necklace, in her care. Whilst Creusa and Alcmaeon once had an affair, the children’s mother is another one of Alcmaeon’s former lovers, yet Creusa has raised the children as her own with King Creon. Creon, unaware of their true paternity and of the oracle that Tisiphone’s virginity is destined to be lost to her father, has begun to not-so-subtly lust after the blossoming Tisiphone. Fearing for her life should the truth be discovered on Alcmaeon’s visit, Creusa recruits the Priestess of Aphrodite, Nikarete, to take the teenagers away. Nikarete enslaves Tisiphone at the Temple/brothel, where visiting Alcmaeon ends up choosing her. I won’t give the rest away just yet, but suffice it to say that in this modern prism of Greek tragicomedy, no characters end up happy, though the Gods and the audience are thoroughly entertained.
[Images of the scaled model box of the set]
In contrast to the concealed stories and desires the characters have, the stark amphitheatres are exposed playing spaces – far more so than interior theatres, as there is no wing space or backstage. British designer Gideon Davey has answered this challenge with a set that draws inspiration from the archaeological sites themselves, and from the environmental installation art of Christo and Jeanne-Claude. In this modern, sleazy version of Corinth, large shipping containers and packing cases form the main structure of the set, complemented by tarpaulins that echo the plastic shrouding of nearby columns and mosaics. The packing cases are initially scattered downstage, filled with shoes, dresses and scrolls of paper. These are the remnants of society from which Hera, the presiding goddess, will conjure the performance.
In itself, rehearsal is a process of breaking down text and ideas: sifting through them in fine detail, eventually reconstituting the elements into what ever the performance becomes. The anticipation of this process fills me with curiosity and excitement: what will it be like to rehearse in two languages? What kind of playing style will evolve as the modern play converges with a different culture and ancient stages? Stay tuned, and I’ll report back.
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