DETAILS

Something to do with Death presented by Ghost River Theatre
Vertigo Theatre
Saturday, June 20 - Sunday, June 28

More in: Theatre

It’s 10 a.m. and I find myself in an awkward position. Literally. I’m standing in a circle, legs slightly bent, bouncing up and down. Soon, I’m slowly walking in a figure eight, making a humming noise not unlike a Buddhist chant, followed by slow, arching arm movements intended to collect the energy around me. It’s not the way I expected to start my morning.

Ghost River Theatre is experimenting with the creative process for their latest performance Something To Do With Death. This rehearsal, like many others before, starts with a chi-gong session, led by actor Phillip Warren Sarsons. It’s a refreshing, relaxing way to start a workday, but that’s not the story.

The real story started three-and-a-half years ago when Something To Do With Death was first visualized. The words “cooperation,” “collaboration” and “organic” spill from the lips of director Eric Rose. This is not a dictatorship; it’s a democracy and everyone has a say about shaping the final product. Communication, says Rose, is essential to avoid a clash of egos in an atmosphere whereby the director typically barks orders at the actors. As he sits in the Green Fools rehearsal space, it sounds like he’s talking more about an open relationship and how to navigate its turbulent waters.

This workshop process had started with a concept that evolved into a more concrete entity. All 10 members of the ensemble participate equally in improvisation, training, writing, and stage ideas. While the process develops, it becomes more rigid and roles are taken on and the production becomes clearer and more structured.

The idea was, and is, to create a theatre production based on the spaghetti westerns of Sergio Leone. From that inspiration, Rose partners with Jason Rothery to work on the script. But this isn’t about putting words on paper and making them happen; the inspiration is visual and the script is an ever-changing beast. Actors bring their ideas to the table, scenes are played out, then changed, and through the creative haze, a story emerges.

Something To Do With Death is a tale of murder, revenge and train lines. Tracks are about to be laid, making land more valuable to some. In the midst of wheeling and dealing, Claudia discovers her entire family has been murdered. And to top it all off, a character returns from the dead to seek her revenge on the evil-doers.

As I sit cross-legged, talking to Rose, the sound of traffic, a soft summer breeze and chirping birds float through an open door, while the ensemble gathers old-fashioned suitcase, then arranges them in a square, divided into four quadrants. They sit on them, sing, and disperse with the cases in their arms. It’s a haunting melody, one that will be featured in the production. Together, they return to the room and begin a discussion. Someone says the play is flat in some parts. The director has no outward reaction; he simply looks on.

Unfortunately or fortunately, given my lack of acting credentials. It’s too late in the game for me to actually participate in weighty decisions as well as performance. There is none of my input in this production (you’re welcome). At this stage in the rehearsal process, things turn a little more traditional. From the sidelines, Rose takes his director role while scenes are played out. Most of the ebb and flow of the creative process has been thrashed around, to the point that the finished product is tantalizingly close.

“Our currency is metaphor,” says Rose before the cast runs through a scene. “So it’s not like we’re presenting the full image like film does. It’s actually presenting part of the image and then inviting the audience to imagine.”

The actors run through the first scene. Gunfire erupts. A card game has gone awry. Sarsons, the quiet man who led us in chi-gong at the start of the day, is transformed into an evil old western sheriff (Jack), apparently prone to shoot at will. As the bullets hit his mark, cards —not blood — fly from victim’s chest.

This scene is not just hinting and toying with the imaginations of the audience. Let’s be frank: There are some who lack even the basic skills to fill in the blanks, so this production offers more.

The second scene on the rehearsal schedule is done over and over. Exhaustively. Jack throws Claudia (Kelly Spilchak) off a kitchen table again and again and again, after she tries to seduce him in order to distract him from killing her. “You think I give two licks about that slit,” he says menacingly tossing her to the ground. They go over the spin and a leg grab, where the shovel is, how to hit him with it after he tosses her, how close their bodies should be and if it’s two clicks of the gun or one before she swings. Over and over and over, again.

Burlap, hanging on thick, rough rope from the ceiling are makeshift curtains. At the end of the scene, when the heroine Tick Tock (Jamie Konchak) interrupts the fight between Jack and Claudia, the play flashes to her memories. Actors slide behind the falling burlap, then all becomes darkness and shadows. Flashlights shine behind the figures on the other side of the curtain and the young heroine buries her sister, then frantically tries to dig her out. There is no imagination needed to witness, even feel, the panic. The looming shadows are captivating.

It’s a unique and low-cost way of delivering the show’s visual promise and it forces me rethink my disdain for design by committee. “If you’re the architect of your own process, then you get to decide what’s important or as a group decide what’s important,” says Rose.