When I was a kid doing theatre over 50 years ago, I remember my dad pointing out a man in the cast who had lost his mother that morning. My father, who always put work ahead of everything, thought that was the main lesson of theatre- the show must go on.
I grew up with that same mentality. I watched my father put work ahead of health, my mother, me. Therefore, I grew up never being absent from school, always being early and ready for whatever I had on my schedule and putting work above all else. No excuses, the show must go on.
I can remember years ago Tim walking in to my place of employment one evening, long after I should have headed home, furious with me that I worked so much at the expense of my health and the well being of our son that I was expecting at the time. Work came first to me.
When I became a mom, I realized that I needed to put my child, my husband, my family and my life ahead of all else. I realized that what I saw growing up wasn’t healthy or right. I began to realize that life is short and what is really important are the ones we love. I also realized I could not take care of the ones I loved if I had overworked myself into being sick.
Old habits die hard though, and as I have gotten more involved in theatre again and my son is grown and doesn’t need me as much, I have fallen back into the idea that work comes before all. “The show must go on” is definitely ingrained deeply in my brain.
This past week has been rather surreal. I was deeply involved in tech week as stage manager and during one moment of insanity, I had also taken a very small role in the show.
For those of you who aren’t involved in theatre, tech week can be grueling. At the worst it makes you wish you had never heard the word theatre and at its best you are exhausted and questioning your sanity before it is over. This show wasn’t difficult technically, but for me it meant figuring out the timing of doing my stage manager duties which I take super seriously and working with an unusual prop that I only really had access to that last week of rehearsals. Not to mention changing clothes, make up and adding a wig backstage while listening out for anything I might need to do as SM. It was definitely tiring and hinged on good timing.
While it was tech week inside the theatre, outside of the theatre was a traumatic week for the country. Being the kind who follows the news routinely, my concern for our country was even more pronounced. As I became more tired as the week wore on, my concern also grew.
Most actors will tell you that they don’t sleep much during tech week. You are going over your lines in your head, you are trying to remember cues and what prop you need when. You think about what could go wrong, you try to pace your regular life during the day so that you do not get to the theatre already exhausted before you ever go onstage. Add into that swirl of theatrical thoughts and fears the real life dramas happening in the world and sleep is only a memory.
Part of what I love about theatre are the lessons you learn on stage and that you sometimes get to teach to the audience. Plays with messages and deep meanings are my favorite to see and to be a part of. I came back to theatre to try and make a difference.
Learning to be another person, to imagine how they feel, to try and see things through their eyes and feelings, is a big part of an actor’s job. People always ask how an actor learns so many lines. (Some don’t, but that’s another story for another day!) I always think that learning lines is the basic, first part of becoming a character. Once I really research and learn about the person I am portraying, the lines are the easy part because that is just what this new person I have become would say.
Getting past the lines and into the heart of someone else, learning to love the new you even if you are playing someone you probably wouldn’t like in real life, is what a real actor does.
How much better would the world be if we all could take a minute to find common ground with people we don’t understand and don’t really like? If we could spend time in their lives, say the words they say, walk the way they walk? If we found something about them to relate to, to like, even to love?
As an actor, that is what we do with each character we portray. And as an actor I try to find the lesson in each show I am involved in.
While mail bombs are being discovered and mass shootings occur, I felt trapped in a play that had no message, no lesson, nothing. I had to drag myself to the theatre each day and listen to the murmurings in the wings before the show among the cast as they discussed current events and how they felt. I wondered what in the world we were doing with this silly show that had no redeeming qualities that I could find.
My character was an old lady who waits tables at a rooftop tea room in London. Everything I did was silly and although I had to stay very serious and grumpy, the audience was laughing at each slow step I took. Opening night I suddenly realized how difficult it was to not laugh myself when everyone in the room was laughing. I had never really done such a slapstick character before. By the end of the weekend, I didn’t find it quite so hard. Was this my lesson?
After opening night I was really distraught. I felt that I wasn’t buying into the show enough. I had studied older people at church to see how they carried themselves. I had written a back story for this woman. I had done the work and felt I knew her. Yet, all I could think was, what in the world was I doing?
And then, after I got home from the opening night reception, I started receiving texts and emails.
In all of the sadness and meanness and violence the world had thrown at us last week, I had made a few people laugh. I had given them just a moment to forget and laugh.
For all of the flaws in this play, for all of the lack of deep inner meaning or any message to hang my sensibilities on, if even one person got a chuckle, then maybe that is all I can wish for.
In the face of a world going mad, maybe sharing laughter has to be enough for me at this time.
I know that I hope for more in what I do. I don’t know that I have the ability or talent to do more, but that is my goal. To change the world, to make a difference, to teach and to affect people through theatre. For this weekend, I have to hope that the people who laughed and had a moment of relief were the reason, the lesson, the difference that I made.
Otherwise, what am I doing?
