I decided to enroll in the Stanislavsky Summer School, a five-week-long acting intensive in Harvard Square. I will be taking classes six days a week in acting, movement, scene study, and Russian theatre history (!) under the tutelage of the master teachers from the world-renowned Moscow Art Theatre. Or so the website says.
As all my close friends and family know, I'm terrified that this program is a scam. Perhaps it's a cultural difference that I need to deal with, but I am pretty "Type A" and need details, and the Russians give details to no one. I mean, literally, I called a few days ago because I had no idea where I was supposed to go once I arrived in Boston, and the thick-accented woman in admissions told me "its on the website" and hung up. So I scoured the website and came up with a street address hidden in one of the pages, but found no building name, no check in information, etc.
My fears were not eased when my cab dropped me off at the address today and it was, in fact, a parking lot.
After wandering around campus with my (what felt like) 500 lbs. of luggage, I finally managed to figure out where I was supposed to go and was introduced to my lush, tropical-feeling dorm room. And by tropical, I meant hot, steamy, and likely full of bugs (as per the giant hole in my window screen).
As all my close friends and family know, I'm terrified that this program is a scam. Perhaps it's a cultural difference that I need to deal with, but I am pretty "Type A" and need details, and the Russians give details to no one. I mean, literally, I called a few days ago because I had no idea where I was supposed to go once I arrived in Boston, and the thick-accented woman in admissions told me "its on the website" and hung up. So I scoured the website and came up with a street address hidden in one of the pages, but found no building name, no check in information, etc.
My fears were not eased when my cab dropped me off at the address today and it was, in fact, a parking lot.
After wandering around campus with my (what felt like) 500 lbs. of luggage, I finally managed to figure out where I was supposed to go and was introduced to my lush, tropical-feeling dorm room. And by tropical, I meant hot, steamy, and likely full of bugs (as per the giant hole in my window screen).
A true Russian tragedy.
I'll skip the boring details of my settling in, mostly because I'm tired and don't want to type them.
On Tuesday, the whole lot of us set off for our first meeting where we were introduced to our professors and their translators, since some of them speak entirely in Russian (save fun phrases here and there, like: "stretch like a beeg beeg cat" "seet like leetle bird" or "you should feel pain everywhere; do it or I will shoot you"... seriously).
We meet 6 days a week from 9a-7:10p with a lunch break mid-day. Our movement class is killer, but I really like it and have been pleasantly surprised by my flexibility and strength. I can totally do a back bend-- who knew? Also, I'm almost able to push myself up into plank from the ground, and I'm determined to nail it before the 5 weeks are over.
Acting has been pretty basic, which I expected. It never hurts to go back to square-one for a tune up, though, so I'm enjoying it. We started with silent "etudes" and learned about the atmosphere of a devised piece, before moving on to embody animals. A few of us did boxing kangaroos on the second attempt, which was a lot of fun. Next up is becoming an object... I have no clue what I'm doing, suggestions welcome.
The first rule of Kangaroo Fight Club is: you don't talk about Kangaroo Fight Club
The whole group has bonded over stealing plates and silverware from the cafeteria, since our tiny communal kitchen was completely barren when we arrived, except for ONE pot and ONE kettle. Rule of thumb has been: expect the opposite of what you've been told. They said we'd have a fully-stocked kitchen... not so much. The gym is only open from 9a-8p and costs $25... lies. Etc. etc. I'm getting used to going with the flow these days. Type B, here I come.
On Saturday night a bunch of us decided to go dancing at a 'club' in Cambridge. No less than three of my drinks were slapped out of my hands, but everything was ok because of the throw-back 90s-00s songs the DJ had on shuffle on his iPad. Also, we convinced two of the translators to come out with us, and they got down shamelessly, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Most of us made it out of the night unscathed.
Foreshadowing?
Now, as I set out on week two, I find myself exhausted but happy. I apologize for this half-hearted drive-by blog update. Honestly, I sat down to write this out of guilt haha. Missing everyone at home, hope you're staying cool.
до свидания... (do svidaniya)
