Kapow! Begins!

Saturday morning we lug all our props in from the container. Several of us carry the bunkbeds together, round the corner where the tent slopes almost too low to allow us in and we have to step up because the ramp angle doesn’t work for us. It’s muggy in the tent and burning outside and Christy and I work quietly together with the lifting and arranging while Luke does the knot tying. 

The fence solution complete

Our changeroom is skanky. 

Dear other-performers-who-share-the-Umbrella-Revolution-changeroom, 

You should know that Christy picks up your rubbish and tidies away your makeup so there is room for other people. 

Love from me.

The thing that tipped the skanky over to hilarious was this:

Suspicious yellow ‘specimen sample’ containers on the changeroom bench.

We get into costumes, do make up, run the hard tricks. Front of House say it’s time to open. The moment before we are ready, we stand holding hands and look hard into each other’s eyes, making contact, committing to working together, to being safe, to looking after each other. Then its time and I jog backstage to sit alone, listening to the feet on the seating bank and the children talking as they arrive. Trying to imagine Christy out there playing with Rosie, being quiet and awkward but present with the crowd.

The show is a little bit wild. Nat gets a few of the sound cues hilariously out but we work to the wrong music or to silence and its ok really. Christy forgets lines and that’s fine too. I feel like I know the shape of the show and that between us we can drive it to the end in spite of hiccoughs. The Porcelain Punch crew are in the crowd leading the laughter which is lovely.

During the show I feel a little un-funny and a little like I am not ‘showing my pleasure to be with the audience.’ Like maybe the only people who really love us are our friends who are the ones I can hear laughing. But at the end as we kneel on the grass by the entry and say hello to the kids, the parents are bright-faced and complimentary. I remember that it is a good show.

I hang with the Punchies while they prep for their show and they are gorgeous about Kapow which is lovely.

A bit of backstage Punch

The thing is, we have only sold three tickets out of 250 for Sunday. After my box office shift, I pump the Garden, handing out 50 complimentary tickets and making friends with the small people again.

Cycle home in the dark, appreciating the flatness of Adelaide.

The Garden Opens

An hour of standing on the soft grass with a script. Running lines, Running the bunk-bed routine without bunkbeds. The hilarious moment where Luke thinks Rosie Bear is in his hand but Christy missed him mime-snatching her. Christy waving her empty hand at Luke, “I’ve still got Rosie!” Luke’s confused face. Me clutching my laughing tummy and trying to translate.

We have an hour in the Umbrella Revolution to try to sort out about the fence, but Barry Morgan and his world of Organs are running a little over time. We rush up to the Peep tent to do what we can of the finishing touches in the down time.

Peep – so pretty

Back in the Umbrella, the fence solution is 16 metres of black fabric and a whole load of safety pins. The techs have closed faces today – they have had a day of problem solving logistics and are polite but a little less relaxed. Luke is precise and thoughtful, judging aesthetics and angles. By the time we leave there is a plan, even if we haven’t tried it completely.

I head off to my first box office shift – to what is widely pegged to be the most highly photographed box office in history. 

It’s the opening night launch party for the garden but there’s only one show selling tickets so Box Office is empty. I sit from 4pm to 10pm behind my computer and watch the people. The VIP media launch is at six and even 15 minutes beforehand there are still fluorescent vests and hammers and star-pickets.

A troupe of Front of House staff arrive in sequins and bow-ties and lycra and tails. They gather by the gate with programs and a doorlist, ready to face the VIPs. I watch the fireworks reflected in the city buildings and listen to the echo of the speeches through the PA. At 9pm the general public arrive and for half an hour they are queueing round the block. I read the program cover to cover, waiting for my shift to be over and deal with about seven customers total. At 10pm I cycle straight home in the cool night air to my tiny bed in my tiny room. Read Howl's Moving Castle by lamplight.

a small room and a small fence

I spend the morning moving into the accommodation Joh and Odette and I will share with two new friends we found on gumtree. It’s two bedrooms and the plan was that I live in the sunroom. But disaster struck yesterday when I spoke to the landlord. I texted Joh: “THERE IS NO SUNROOM!!! Arghh! we are losers! There is a pergola so maybe I get a mozzie net and sleep in the backyard…” We talked hilariously on the phone, laughing about me making a bed behind the couch or sleeping in the outside toilet.

But there is something a little like a sunroom – maybe more like a lighting well.

The Ailsa-bed.

Inspired by the tiny house movement. I like the process of making a small space mine.

We bump in and tech Kapow this afternoon. We’re performing in the Umbrella Revolution, a 250 seater venue. 

Kapow’s home for the next 5 weeks

Our techs, Alison and Nat are the kind of ladies who don’t think anything is too hard. Alison sees me struggling from across the tent and runs to help. Nat shrugs and says, "no problem." Eyes on the ball.

The one issue is the fence. The plot of Kapow really requires us to have a fence that we can’t get over or go around. We have never performed the show in a venue this large without wings. Our fence which looms and blocks our way fabulously on a small stage is kind of like a joke in the Umbrella Revolution.

How do we get our bear from the other side??

Luke is full of enormous schemes: “We’ll buy 5x2 meters of fabric and paint a fence on it tomorrow. Or I’ll build a whole second section so this fence is a corner and looks more like you can't get round it.” I think about how many hours, how many big missions and how many late nights Luke has done to get this thing happening. I think about him saying, “maybe on Friday we can just chill.” It makes my insides sink thinking about him having to do another big job to make it work.

Plus we are running out of time to plot the lights and make sure we’ve done a cue to cue before 5pm.

Luke measures the space we somehow need to fill and Christy sits with Alison at the lighting desk bringing up colours and checking heights of lights. I sit on the grass pumping up beach balls and moving where Christy needs me to so she can check lights.

The cue to cue is a winner because our techs are awesome and we pedal home past the traffic jams. Home to my new house where Odette is on a crawling adventure down the corridor with her bright smile and Joh looks has been arranging toys and a cot in her new room.

Tomorrow we find a fence solution (eee!) and try to remember the show…