From First Read to Opening Night
It all started on March 24.
Just a table read. But if you’ve ever done one, you know it’s never just a table read. Everyone’s trying not to mess up, not to stumble over words in front of people they barely know. And this isn’t just any play — it’s Pinter. Every silence is loaded, every line a potential minefield.
I’d read the play so many times before that day, but nothing quite prepares you for saying it aloud. You don’t want to sound flat. You don’t want your scene partners to lose faith in you — on day one.
Then we hit pause. Constellations went to Regionals, and Betrayal waited… quietly, patiently.
By the end of March, we were back. Clock ticking. Opening night was May 9, and two of us had travel plans in between. Not ideal. The pressure crept in fast.
Rehearsals began, and we were trying to get to know each other — both as characters and as people. I had worked with Era before (Constellations), so that part felt familiar. Max took a bit longer to “crack,” but we were finding our way. The chemistry between Jerry and Robert wasn’t quite there yet. Not in the way Marianna, our director wanted. But it would come.
By early April, we were deep in scene work. I was focusing on my scenes with Robert, knowing I’d be away for a few days. Some scenes felt alive — others felt like awkward conversations between two actors still figuring each other out. But that’s the process. Trusting it is hard.
The set started to emerge. Minimal, of course — Marianna likes her boxes. A table. Some chairs. A few glasses. We were asked to “feel the space.” I wasn’t sure what that meant at first. I’m still not sure I always knew. But we played. We moved. We listened.
Mid-April brought breakthroughs and breakdowns.
We added music. Sat on the floor for intimacy. Repeated scenes again and again until they had rhythm, texture, meaning. Masha brought structure, challenges, and chaos in equal measure.
There were days I felt good. And others where I forgot lines I’d known for weeks. Returning from a trip after a week off felt like I had to catch up to everyone else. I started to second-guess scenes I thought were solid. Even my body felt unsure in the space.
But slowly, it all began to shift.
Lines settled into place. Relationships started to breathe.
We tried costumes. Era’s dress was perfect. Mine… well, let’s say we tried three different suits and Masha still wasn’t convinced. But we moved on.
Transitions — oh, the transitions. They were my nemesis for a while. Moving chairs in half-moons, making sense of the sequence of things, where to place glasses or books. It sounds simple. It’s not.
By the end of April, the rehearsal room felt more like a stage. Marina came to take photos, and even though it wasn’t a performance, I felt the pressure to look good. I started treating rehearsals like performances — not because anyone asked, but because I needed to believe we were close.
Some days it worked. Some days it didn’t.
The final week came fast. The set kept evolving — little surprises added every day. A shelf here. A bottle painted there. I still wasn’t satisfied with how I delivered certain lines. Still wondering whether I was hitting the right temperature, especially in the scenes with Era.
Scene 9 always dried my mouth. I convinced myself it was part of the character — Jerry can’t speak without breaking down, right? Right?
We squeezed in last rehearsals. Swapped notes. Argued over interpretations. I pushed myself to try new things — and finally, forced myself to stop changing things. There comes a moment when you have to let go.
May 7 — tech and dress. Sort of. I was the only one in costume. I didn’t get the memo, apparently. But that’s theatre. Nothing is ever fully finished until the lights go down.
May 8. Final rehearsal. That was it. Alea jacta est.
There’s no turning back after that one.
And then it opened.
It wasn’t perfect — nothing real ever is.
But it was ours. Honest. Messy. Quiet. Precise.
Just like Pinter.
To my castmates, to Marianna, to the crew behind the lights and the shelves and the silences: thank you. We lived in the in-between. And we made something true.
