I lost my temper last night.
An actor berated me for being hard on him; constantly criticising, never praising. So I said shouted, “It’s not ALL about YOU! Bloody Prima Donna.”
He always asks me what he did wrong during a rehearsal. So I always tell him. I also tell him the things he does well, but he never hears those words.
Then I realised that I’ve been there myself. So desperate for a director’s approval, that no praise is high enough, and the slightest suggestion for improvement cuts deep.
I’m afraid it will be the same next time too.
I think you showed remarkable restraint. I have no idea how directors manage to cope without resorting to large quantities of drugs.
The production is beautifully subtle and enormously entertaining, by the way.
Why thank you kindly sir!
*blush*
Um. If red wine is considered a drug, then I am guilty as charged…
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