Monday October 6Zoom
My Monday is often a day off. Since the performance with Fré has been in the making, every free hour means practicing our dialogues. Today my only other “work thing” is an evaluation with the folks at the Prinsjescabaretthat Patrick Nederkoorn and I traditionally played five times around Prinsjesdag in The Hague. The evaluation takes place via Zoom, with the ladies of Theater Diligentia, producer Vera Papilaja and artistic director Cyanne Moe-Tjon, without whom we would be nowhere. During the session, as I check my hair and look at the others, I realize that zooming is one of those things in postmodern life that I find at the same time completely normal and very strange.
I check with Xander V (that’s how he is listed in my contacts) whether he will come to the Kleine Komedie tomorrow at the end of the afternoon to properly adjust the bass. Over the past six months, thanks to him, I have learned to play the bass well enough to be able to accompany Fré during her four songs in our performance. He forgot, but he can, thankfully.
Soundcheck by Sanne Wallis de Vries (left) and Frédérique Spigt for their performance ‘In Natura’ in De Kleine Komedie.
Photo Andreas Terlaak
Tuesday October 7Madhouse
The first Little Comedy Day! I take a yoga class in the morning. Fortunately, Jackó (my husband) is at home these days, I don’t have to worry about who walks the dog and who cooks. From four o’clock Vincent (Romijn, technician) has finished building and setting up, and we can rehearse on stage if we want. But Titus (Tiel Groenestege, our director) first wants Fré and me to sit next to each other in a dressing room to practice the ‘cancel scene’, where we draw with real markers and real paper while I try to contact her in the meantime. Titus tells us to dare to take more silence, between sentences, even if you say them one after the other. That benefits the absurdism, and also the humor. At a certain point I can’t talk anymore because I’m laughing so much. Fré is also wiping away her tears. “What a madhouse,” she regularly says. “Deranged.”
At five o’clock Xander comes to adjust the bass. He even takes a picture for me of the knobs on the bass, and how far each knob should be turned up. Olivier (Schneider) from Theaterbureau de Mannen (or ‘my agent‘, as I always introduce him to others) and Anne van Zantwijk (photographer) join us for dinner. We’re all talking and laughing quite loudly. I notice that Fré withdraws at a certain point, which I think is very sensible.
Photos Andreas Terlaak
The performance is going well. I feel things falling into place while playing. There are people in the room who will benefit from our language, humor and choices. We receive compliments for our idiosyncrasy, for turning our own world inside out. And because people just think it’s a beautiful performance. Nice to hear for Fré and me. Neither of us have ever made anything like this before. We don’t even know the name of the genre we practice. Xander has also seen the performance, he still sends tips & tricks at night. Titus also emails notes.
Wednesday October 8Impatient
It’s our cat Aagje’s birthday. The second (and last) try-out that we play in the Kleine Komedie goes less well than the night before. I feel myself getting impatient and irritated on stage and I can’t get rid of it anymore. After the performance I start to express what is bothering me. Fré and I are both still wearing our overalls, I’m even still wearing my transmitter. I can no longer stop talking, something that often bothers me when I’m stressed. I want Titus to agree with me and that we will do everything we can to get it right tomorrow. But Fré doesn’t attract me and walks away. Titus looks at me and says: “This was not the right time.”
Photos Andreas Terlaak
At first I think: I’ll leave it alone, I’m right, but then I (still wearing my overalls) go look for Fré. She appears to be having a drink at the front of the foyer surrounded by friends. She is also still wearing her overalls. We hug each other and ten minutes later, outside the artist’s entrance, with a glass of wine and a cigarette in hand, we wholeheartedly agree that a conflict like this should not only be possible, but even necessary. We are also completely on the same page in terms of how much we love each other. Titus only emails a few notes. I record a frustrated report for Xander in terms of music, to which he fortunately responds reassuringly half an hour later.
Thursday October 9Premiere
Premiere day! I ask Jackó if he wants to have coffee with me, but I’m coming back myself, I’d rather walk and still have to buy snacks. As practiced as he is now, as a husband to a wife with premieres, he thinks everything is fine. I do my shopping in good spirits and walk home with my earphones playing loud funk music. I keep it that way while I hang out the laundry. Then I see Jackó open the door. I take out my earphones and hear him say: there is a man with your wallet. It turns out I lost my wallet early on my walk home. The man who brings it shakes his head as he hears how this could have happened. Then he points to my ears and says: “Take those things off. Be in this world, not in the other.”
I don’t know how to thank him so I write down his name and address for later. Only when he is out of the picture do I think: of course I should have invited him to the premiere!
Frédérique Spigt (left) and Sanne Wallis de Vries in De Kleine Komedie.
Photo Andreas Terlaak
Friday October 10Sleep in between
The premiere went beyond expectations. It was also a sweet and energetic evening, with many people who have known us well for a long time and do not have to take any bumps in order to be able to participate in our world. It was my bestie’s birthday, and we had a nightcap with her and three of our children last night. I feel like that has somewhat ruined me today. Jackó has gone to Groningen for two days to work. I walk Bobbie twice and try to sleep in between. The performance is going okay.
Saturday October 11Sad news
Last evening in De Kleine Komedie. We have received two great reviews, Theater newspaper and A.D. That’s a wonderful boost. But at the end of the afternoon I also heard that Joost Nuissl, director of De Kleine Komedie for many years, has passed away. A very sweet man and great director. He was the one who, as a youngster, invited me to play with him for a week after my debut in 1997 and who saw everything for years. What sad news. We dedicate the evening performance, the best of the week, to him.
Our national tour starts next week. Fortunately, we don’t know that yet de Volkskrant will write a sour review. About the NRC we don’t know anything yet. But Fidelity is good. And Fré and I also really like each other, which is something you don’t easily get around to with a solo program.
A glass of port at the artist entrance.
Photo Andreas Terlaak
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