In talking with fellow theatre students during my time at Montevallo, I realized that instead of being a crazy person all alone in the world, I was in good company. In the two years since I graduated, I have talked with fellow actors in the shows I have done and realized that when it comes to performers, most of us have these dual personalities. It is hard for people who are not artists to understand, and even some forms of art are not in the same category as actors and singers. When you can hide behind an instrument or a painting or sculpture it makes it a tad easier than if you are it, standing out on the stage in all of your glory. I would say alone in all of your glory, but I was taught that rarely are you alone. Even as you do that long monologue or soliloquy on a bare stage, as you stand vulnerable in the spotlight, you are not alone. Someone has directed you, someone is shining that light on you, the rest of the cast is in the wings silently cheering you on. If you are out there singing your heart out, then you are indeed not alone. Unless you are singing A cappella you never really do a “solo.” Whoever accompanies you is your partner and you must treat them as your equal partner. They are your support and with them there you can feel secure that you are never alone. And your audience is there for you as well. They might cheer, applaud, or my favorite- laugh. They want you to succeed and they want to be entertained.
All of this is so true and yet you will never feel so alone or vulnerable as you do on stage. Nothing stands between you, your art and your audience. This past Christmas I did a show that I never felt confident about. I had pages and pages of long stories to learn and lots of lines and songs as well. I fretted and cried at night thinking I would never learn it all. When I finally started getting close to learning it, I timed myself. In a show of about 90 minutes, I was talking about 50 of those minutes. Considering there were 5 other people and songs, I knew that my sing songy, monotonous voice was going to be the one heard the most and it scared me! Each night of performance something didn’t go right. Lines were dropped, a prop was missing, something. During the second weekend, on Thursday, I finally had friends in the audience. I had already endured audiences that fell asleep, looked half dead, left in the middle of the show or spent the time looking at their phone. It was nice when I walked out at the beginning of the show into the audience with cookies to offer, to see a couple of friendly faces for a change. But the night was no different from most, a few laughs, a few missed cues and another less than enthusiastic audience.
By Friday I just wanted it to be over. I had Christmas to prepare for and only a few days to get ready. On this Friday night Tim and Jon were coming to the show along with a couple of other friends. Looking at the audience during the show I saw my husband, who had seen the show once already, staring blankly ahead. My son looked exhausted and my friends, who are seasoned theatre folk themselves, seemed bored. I realized during one of the songs that everything sounded off and awful. When we went in for intermission, one of the young girls said, “Did you hear me? I tried to do some harmony!” Another of the girls looked at her and replied, “Is that what that was? It was awful!” After the show I reluctantly went to the lobby to see my friends and family. As I emerged through the curtain it wasn’t the usual, “there she is!” “Congratulations!” or “You were great!” Not only did I not hear anything positive, no one even acknowledged I was there, they kept on talking about whatever it was they were discussing, totally ignoring me. I just wanted to cry! But I waited and then with no comment we decided where to meet for a much needed drink. (I later found out that my friend had worked until 3am the night before and was truly exhausted as was my son, who had just started a new job.)
Our Sunday showing in another venue was cancelled due to lack of ticket sales, so I only had one more performance to endure. On Saturday night, I went to the theatre ready to be done. I knew we would have to strike the set afterwards and that half of the stuff on stage belonged to me, so I planned for a long night. Right off the bat, I could tell something was different. When I walked out to the audience with cookies, people smiled and took them. Before, all I had gotten were blank stares and shaking heads. Not that night. I handed out cookies to everyone there and then followed it up with napkins and smiles. As I told my first long story, I felt the emotion welling up inside of me. Every word was there and full of meaning and the audience was awake and listening! They laughed in all of the right spots. The music was far from perfect, but I saw people getting into it more than any other night. At the beginning of Act 2 I had another long story. It was my least favorite story. First off, it was written to be told by a man. The casting for this show was nowhere near the way it was written to be and somehow I ended up with extra lines and stories, several that had to be adjusted for age or gender. While rehearsing this story we finally had to walk through and literally point to each other to even figure out what in the world we were talking about. We finally got it figured out, changed the words and added some funny bits, but over all it was a deep, meaningful story that I could not relate to. It was about a young boy (now girl) helping her father ring the bell for the Salvation army. It brought up thoughts of faith, giving, tradition and love, things my childhood were devoid of. Each time I told the story and talked about envisioning the now departed father and grown child, I would try to see what my childhood could have been, should have been and what I tried to make my own child’s holidays about. It made me feel that maybe I was failing because here I was in a small theatre doing a bad show, instead of home baking cookies and wrapping gifts. WHAT WAS I THINKING!!
So on this last night of this production, with the audience totally engaged, I began to tell the story. And I realized that maybe I had been cheated as a child, but that was over and I had moved on. And maybe someday I will look back and remember some of the good times and fewer of the bad. But as an actress I get to feel the emotions that maybe my real life hadn’t presented to me. Suddenly I saw the strong dad in an overcoat and hat, ringing the bell in front of the red steel tripod and black kettle in front of an old Woolworth’s Five and Dime. I saw my silly daughter years later hollering at the passers by, asking for money for the Baby Jesus, and I finally felt the emotions these memories would have have stirred in the me that was onstage. And tears welled up in my eyes and I choked out the last words and remembered why I was there, in that tiny theatre instead of home baking cookies and wrapping presents.
At the end of the show, after a flawless night from everyone in the cast, we began singing “Silent Night” as we had every night for two weeks. But for once we didn’t say, “Everybody now!” only to see maybe two mouths barely moving with the words and the rest of the audience looking at us as if we had three heads each. No, on this perfect night, the audience stood up and reached across to perfect strangers, joining hands and singing, “sleep in heavenly peace” enthusiastically right along with us. At that point the rest of the two week run of the play left my memory. If only the 20 or so people in the audience that closing Saturday night had a fun time and left there feeling better about the holidays and their lives, then it was all worth it.
I missed an audition this past weekend for a show I have wanted to do for months. There was just too much going on and I knew it was not in my best interest to go. In the past few days I see where people are getting parts in different plays, some in dream roles of mine, others just out there doing their thing while I sit home. And yes, I am jealous. I want to be out there, I want to be doing those parts, I want to be in a play right now! But for now I know I am where I need to be and that hopefully the time will be right again soon. On the one hand I am scared to be put in another situation where I feel so inadequate, where I think I will never learn all of the lines, where I will fail miserably, where I will just want to be done and never have to go out on that stage again! On the other hand, I need to be out there. I need to know what my character feels and learn how to be someone I have never been before. I NEED THAT!
So like I said at the beginning, most performers are crazy. We are two people, the introvert who is terrified to walk out on that stage and the exhibitionist, who desperately needs to be out there. We fill our characters with the experiences we have had and our characters fill our lives with experiences we’ve never known. We long to totally become another person, yet fight to be an individual and truly know ourselves as thoroughly as possible. We are scared to be rejected and yet put ourselves into situations where we are rejected over and over again. I have gotten angry when I hear other cast mates make fun of theatre traditions or sayings. Or when I hear community theatre neophytes not “get” having to prepare and get “into” character. (No, I don’t think you have to “be” your character the whole month that you are doing a role, but yes, I do think you have to get your head right for a few minutes before you go on stage. So don’t tell me about your cousins wedding when I am about to go on!) Maybe I do or don”t have any talent, but I know I do have the passion. And for me, that is what counts.
