Behind the scenes: Of Mice and Men #2

Written by Caroline Baum

Week Two: The Opera Centre, Sydney



Fired: Frankie leaves set


Forget mice. Dogs have been the problem with this piece from the beginning, when an early draft of Steinbeck’s novel was eaten by Charley, the French poodle who accompanied him everywhere.

Now Frankie, Bruce’s red heeler, has got the sack. For farting. And following Bruce around. And getting tangled in the rope she’s tied up with. Basically, she’s untrained and too much of a risk. So she had to go. (Fortunately, she was not shot like the dog in the opera.)

She’ll be replaced by a professional pooch - the original Kleenex labrador puppy - supplied by an agency for performing animals at the extravagant rate of $700 per rehearsal and $900 per show.

The humans in the show are proving easier to coach though it’s taking time for the Aussies to master the right American twang under the guidance of Ron Stevens, a tenor veteran of the 70s who happens to come from California, so he has just the right accent. A little word like ‘can’t’ proves to be a deceptively stubborn stumbling block.



Jud Arthur in rehearsals



The man with the most convincing physique for the piece is undoubtedly Jud Arthur who sings the role of Candy. He’ll have no trouble convincing anyone he’s a labourer with those biceps. You don’t get those singing, even if you are a bass. He once played rugby union in Italy and then switched to opera when he had to retire due to injury. But his day job is shoeing horses and he also trains as a body builder. Perfect casting.

The chorus members are getting used to the herbal cigarettes they are smoking for authenticity. Better than a recent production of Carmen in WA with no cigars - the girls from the cigar factory rolled the tobacco leaves on their thighs and then put them in a basket as if they were preparing stuffed vine leaves for dinner.

In rehearsal, the climactic fight scene between Lennie and Curley’s wife (we never learn her name in the novel or in the score) takes six hours to choreograph and now looks real.

‘What kind of floor will it be on stage?’ asks Jackie Mabardi.

‘Wood,’ says Bruce. ‘Why are you asking?’

‘Just wondering about splinters,’ says Jackie, who gets dragged across the floor and has good reason to wonder how that’s going to feel.

Meanwhile Anthony is getting used to the soft toy he has to pretend is the puppy he accidentally strokes to death. He plays with it, trying to pose it convincingly, angling its paws over his forearm. It’s not yet looking completely convincing, but at least it doesn’t fart.

Postscript: Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley is about a midlife road trip the author undertook with his dog as companion. It helped him win the Nobel prize for literature, so the dog redeemed himself.