I was interviewed today by my friend, Elizabeth Lesser for Oprah’s radio show about Soul. Oprah has asked Elizabeth to host the show when she, Oprah, is not available. Elizabeth is co-founder of The Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY and is a deeply spiritual/soulful person. We spent a wonderful hour talking together during which I realized that I want to send Elizabeth’s book, “Broken Open,” to Vanessa Redgrave. It is a book about how life’s tragedies and crisis can also be the way in which we are broken open–to deeper, richer parts of ourselves, to the broader community, to the universe. I also remembered with shock that only last year Vanessa played Joan Didion in the one-woman play based on Didion’s book, “The Year of Magical Thinking,” which told of her loss of her husband, John Dunne and her daughter. I feel certain that Didion will be able to help Vanessa now through her own loss.

Perhaps the acuteness of the tragedy of Natasha’s death is magnified for me because of I feel very ‘broken open’ by the nature of this play that I am doing 8 times a week–a play that speaks of life and death, of mothers and daughters.

(These last days it has been hard for me to write my usual ’sign off’–see you next time. It all seems so arbitrary.)

As I’ve said previously, I am so ready! Not nervous at all. Never quite had an experience like this.
This afternoon’s performance was terrific. We felt like many streams coming down from the side of a hill somewhere and slowly flowing into one smooth river, gathering speed and noise as we flowed.

We all care for each other so much. I stand at the back of the stage behind the sliding backdrop at the top of Act Two. I’m always there early, waiting for it to begin, and as places are called, Don, then Samantha, then Colin and Susan all walk the narrow space behind me to their entry places and as they pass, they touch me or say something sweet. It’s become an unspoken ritual that I treasure.

Yesterday, I blogged about wanting to go to museums in the city over the next few months. Well, that elicited (spelled it right this time!) so many recommendations and I am so pleased to have been reminded of The Cloisters (one of my old favorites), Ellis Island, The American Indian Museum and many others. Thank you. I hope they’ll let me bring Tulea. I have particularly fond memories of the Cloisters back in the 50s when I would sit on the grassy hillside just outside the walls and make out with Jean, a French soldier I was dating (on leave from the French/Algerian War).

I got a couple of emails from friends in Atlanta congratulating me on the article/review by the Theatre critic in the Atlanta Journal Constitution. I’ll have to confess I asked one friend to send it to me. I guess that’s one I’ll read. Speaking of Atlanta, Anne Sterchi, who lives in my building in Atlanta, came backstage yesterday and brought me a little pot with some of the Lavender and Stipa Robusta that grows in our courtyard—along with photos of the courtyard covered with snow and some of the pooches we’re used to playing with. Made me kinda homesick!

See you next time.

We all feel it. Something magical has happened. The show is soaring. Really connecting with people on a deep level. I feel so proud to be a part of this. I don’t know if this will ever happen again in my professional life–being part of something that connects deeply with people like this play does. I now understand what my father experienced, what he loved so much about the theatre–this immediacy–immediate communication with a live audience.

Tonight-perhaps because last night was such a high–we were slightly off kilter-especially at the start, forgot lines, made mistakes, but because we now know our characters so well, we know how to recoup, ad lib, find our way back. I had such a good time on stage tonight. But, today, it was wierd. Colin, Samantha and I all commented on it tonight before the show– first day with no rehearsal– nothing structured before the night’s performance!! We all felt discombobulated. I slept till noon, floated around and then took a nap at 4pm–not knowing what else to do. I got to the theatre at 5pm–3 hours early–just because that’s where it felt safe. I know this will change and I will get used to the new free time, but it will take awhile. I just scheduled regular workouts at Pilates on Fifth, partly cause I need it, (haven’t worked out in 2 weeks!!!)but partly cause I need something regular to do 3-4 times a week.

Adrian Bailey from The Little Mermaid. Was at the show tonight. He’s a chorus member that was walking to his place for the top of the show back in early 2008. Around this time of year, he walked through a trap door from above the deck and fell quite a distance. He nows uses a cane to walk. He is much loved by Broadway folk.

See you next time.

It’s not opening night but it feels like it. Flowers fill my dressing room. So nice. Critics are coming. So what. We are so ready we’re about to burst like ripe fruit.

Last night, Regina Scully came to the show with four friends. When they came back after, I looked at one of the women and said, “Don’t I know you?” “No,” she replied, “We’ve never met.” Then Regina said that the sister of two of the women had died of ALS and I immediately knew why I knew the woman—Valerie Estess. “You were in that video about your sister, as she died, “Three Sisters Searching for a Cure”! You were the one who did all the talking! Of course I know you!” How could I forget? I’ve watched the video so many times, studying her sister. I wept when I realized who was in the room with me and how much this disease has changed their lives. I was happy when both sisters (Valerie and Meredith) told me I had the disease nailed in the show.

They have continued the research project they started while their sister was still alive—Project A.L.S. (www.projectals.org). We discussed doing a benefit for their organization in the Spring. All money goes into research. They’ve created a stem cell lab at Columbia where they’re researching stem cells and motor neurons—what destroys them and what can heal them.

With them was their board co-chair, Martha McCully, who writes “My Reinvention Tour” on the Huffington Post. We hung out for quite awhile after the show talking about their sister and what they are doing now.

Today I had an interesting, far-reaching interview with theatre critic Wendell Brock, from the Atlanta Journal Constitution (my home town paper). He happens to be a friend of Scott Peacock’s and had somewhat the same (spiritual) reaction to the play. He brought me a box of Girl Scout cookies from Atlanta.

We had a brief rehearsal during the time I usually nap, so—gulp—I hope my energy doesn’t flag. I doubt that it will. Even though I’m not nervous, knowing the critics are out there does give an added adrenalin boost.

Wouldn’t you know it, on such an important night, a personal crisis arose and I could feel my stress hormones rising in my body till I shook. But I meditated for a few minutes before rehearsal and have calmed down enough to feel it won’t affect the performance. I try to look on something like this as a test. Can I rise above and maintain when it matters. I’ll let you know tomorrow.

See you next time. (unless something really unusual happens. And if it does, maybe I’ll just Twitter)

In one of the comments someone wonders if I do my own blogging/twittering. I want to make it clear (in case the personal tone doesn’t) that I write my own blogs. Otherwise, I really don’t see the point. If I want to take people through the experience of doing a Broadway play after 46 years, I have to do it myself. So there!

This is the last performance in Feb. It’s gone by so fast. So guess who saw the show this afternoon and came back to see me? Arthur Laurents!!! He is 90. You’d never believe it. I was surprised that he came because he is in previews for his revival of “West Side Story.” In case you’re too young, Arthur wrote “West Side Story” (and “Gypsy” and the play of his I was in, “Invitation to a March.”) He’s on his pees and Qs, for sure, pointing out to me that in the play’s program, my bio calls his play “Invitation to a Waltz.” Major Oooops. But he made it funny: “Clearly you really are obsessed with Beethoven.” (In the play I am obsessed with Diabelli’s waltz and why Beethoven wrote 33 variations on it.)

Also backstage came Jay Craven, a filmmaker from Vermont, who became my friend back in the early 70s antiwar movement.

The cast was going to party in Chinatown tomorrow after the 3pm show but, at Moises’s suggestion, we postponed. He doesn’t want us tired for next week (critics come). Plus, it’s supposed to be wicked, cold and sleeting weather tomorrow.

Novelists I know have told me over the years how their characters often “get away from them” and write themselves—tell the writer what they want to do and who they are becoming. I thought of this last night and today. I know what my character, Katherine, is supposed to be like, how she is meant to behave. But there are times when I feel like she has taken over and is coming across as someone slightly different and there’s not a thing I seem to be able to do about it. Last night, for instance, she was soooo cool and stiff. The other day she became way more emotional. Moises was there yesterday and said it seemed fine but it is weird and disconcerting.

There is a scene in the second act that I have never felt great about. Last night Moises told me that I was acting it just as he wanted me to and that now all that needs to happen is for me to own its rightness.  So that’s what I am working on now.

My best, longest-known friend is here tonight: Paula Weinstein. I’ve known her for decades. Her mother was a famous film producer, Hannah Weinstein, who gave me my first funding in 1970 when I was opening the GI Office in DC to get help and congressional attention for soldiers’ complaints and problems. Later Hannah called in the favor, asking me to help her fresh-out-of-Columbia daughter, Paula, get a job in Hollywood. Paula became my agent, got me the role in “Julia” (Lillian Hellman was Paula’s godmother), then became a studio executive (took charge of my film “Nine to Five” at Fox), and then a film producer. She was a producer (at my request) on “Monster-in-Law” and fought to not quit till we got it right. We have a long, loving history together.

I hope I don’t fall down or skip a scene.

Stage Manager just called 15 minutes (till curtain goes up) so…
See you next time.