My Name is Rachel Corrie

Day off today and tomorrow. Montreal is buried in another snowstorm. 30 cm blew in yesterday and last night, leaving behind cars disguised as snowdrifts and human-width tracks along the sidewalks.

Last night a group of us met at the Teesri office for a delicious dinner cooked by Rahul’s mother. There was enough food for at least three times as many. The conversation ranged from Dipti’s challenge for us to recall encounters (with Hell’s Angels, grieving mothers and drunks on the bus), the Reasonable Accommodation hearings (very frightening government action currently going on in Quebec) and the reaction of audiences to our show.

The past week has been quite intense. Though not as charged as the opening week, the past week has seen the show grow more solid - in my biased opinion. There is nothing like repetition, for me, I love repeating the patterns and finding the subtle nuances and intricacies of action, story-telling and communication.

I do feel like I made an error, though. On one night, three women attended the show. They asked me before we started how long the show was. Then throughout the performance I noticed them talking to each other and smiling, one woman sat with one leg crossed over the other, bouncing her foot up and down. In my performer’s brain a range of narratives presented. Of course the first (because we performers are ego-centric, in case you didn’t know) was that they were bored. So I played to them. And then noticed glances shared between them. And that’s when I made my mistake: I got angry and righteous.

You should know that performers get upset when people don’t pay attention to them. I have had many conversations with actors, angry when they feel ignored.

And so I got angry at these women. Because they were distracting me and the other audience members.

I realize now that these women were doing something brave. I imagine they were coming to investigate a story that challenged their beliefs. They were coming to challenge the claims that most critics of the politics of this play have not actually seen it. So they came. Which is brave. And they reacted. Which is human. And I reacted with anger. Which is also human.

But I hope that in the future, should this situation present again, that I can remember in the moment (and subdue my ego long enough) to congratulate the audience for their bravery and learn from them.

I, too, am just beginning to learn how dialogue really works - which is ironic considering this is a monologue show -  and continue to find this process inspiring and incredibly rich.

Adrienne

The Opening Weekend has been a real whirlwind. In addition to the simple fact of opening the show - which seems simple, but never is - this weekend was also one of special guests. In addition to my Mom and my Fella’, Craig and Cindy Corrie were also in Montreal.

The Corries watched both matinees on Saturday and Sunday. When they came backstage, it was as if I had been waiting to meet them forever. In fact, I think I said something to that effect!

Performing the show with these two brave, intelligent and kind people felt like a real honour. Their generous spirit immediately set me at ease. “Enjoy the show,” I said, as they were going back into the lobby, leaving me to prepare for the show. “Oh we will, don’t worry, we will.”

And I think they did.

Here are some pictures from the social events that accompanied their visit, as well as the panel on Sunday.

(from left) Sarah Garton Stanley, Marcus Youssef, Craig Corrie and Cindy Corrie after the show on Saturday afternoon.

Dinner on Saturday. I’m not sure who all was there.

The panel on Sunday December 9th.

Cindy, Me and Craig.

The Denver Post: November 18, 2007

Rachel Corrie’s parents have seen more than 30 performances of the one-woman play based on their daughter’s correspondence, by five different actors. “And I’ve never once gotten through it intact,” her father said. More…