1000 pound monkey

Wow. What a very long ten days. In theater, the week before you opening, usually starts with tech day, is often referred to as Hell Week. For many years I have found that amusing as it seemed only to be hell for those around me. The tech team (if you had a team- sometimes just one poor soul) trying to get all their stuff right. Lights focused and gelled. Music and effects, levels and specials, like fog and door slams, trap doors and such. I was not hell for me at all. It’s just a play, theater.

Now I get it. Maybe I’m just getting older, tired. Worn out is a good expression. I have been worn-out after every rehearsal. Physically dragging. Mentally slowed down. (go ahead) Emotionally beat down. A new experience to say the least. I cannot recall ever having a problem letting the character go when leaving the theater. Sure, some things got dragged around a bit longer. Being too wound up to sleep after a show or a particularly long hard rehearsal. Being restless while trying to get lines committed. The Usual Stuff. This was different. Much, much different.

Crying is a good thing when you character is sad. Better when they are frustrated, that’s a great one! Pulling that out on stage, being so there that you don’t even realize your doing it, man-o-man that’s great. I am about 40% with that. Not being much of a crier in my own life, not so easy. However, Johnny Smit it seems is a crier. I found myself crying while reading, memorizing. Literally, found myself, there. Not trying, just crying.

A few days before we opened, a scene with a lovely speech finally came something close to being good. When it was finished, I was nauseous. What the hell is that all about? Since when does a character invade me? I invade them dang it! I wish I knew the moment that Johnny became so important that I gave up parts of me for him. It was at some point a choice, I will be this sad, this scared, this unhappy and uncertain for real.

Problem was, the last thing I needed in the entire world right now, was to be feeling any of those things. To allow any of those things to even peek out of me into the light of my days. Really needed to keep them from my nights. The conflict was, has been less than a treat. Even that is a conflicting statement.  I wanted to do this show. I pushed someone else into doing it. I told everyone I know to come see it. I new working with this director would be a great time, learning experience. I knew working with this actor would be the same. When you work with someone so good, it makes you better, makes you try new things, gives you so much more to work with. Amazing.

So, there I am, in the situation I really wanted to be in – getting my ass kicked from the inside and the outside. Trying to love it and really not liking it all all. If we could just get it over with was my mantra for a week. Just get it opened.

Well, we did. Finally. Sherryl was, as always, fantastic. Walking out there without knowing if I was going to say the right thing, or anything at all, Kudos my dear, you got game! Marla, your name is all over this thing. I cannot even imagine sitting there waiting for the crash. Myself, I have never had to pee so many times in an hour. Oddly, it was one of the only times I did not feel like throwing up before a show. I felt a zillion other bad things, that was just not one of them.

The last time I remember shaking that badly was the first time I was on speedway sidecar. I was sitting there in the dark, trying to hold a spoon, looking for my voice. I could hear the chair rattle from my body shaking. Deep breath? Yea, right.  When I spoke, I could not tell if I has an accent or if that is the sound of my fear. I kept speaking. I kept breathing. I started moving. I was watching Sherryl and thinking how glad I was she said yes, how Hester like she was. I heard her save me, my constant forgotten line! I wanted to laugh it went so seamlessly by.

Some time later it was all over. Curtain calls suck usually, I hate standing there. For the first time ever, I hugged another actor during that moment. Did it kill the characters, for the audience, maybe. At that moment, it was all I could think to do to not start crying again. For the first time at this particular theater, I went back stage, took a moment, then went to mingle with the audience. There was an odd calm among the pains, inside and out. My confidence was by no means back, but at least I knew was still in there somewhere.

I am already looking forward to next weekend, too reading through and speeding through with Sherryl. I am so glad I did this. I know, you can’t tell can you? I can only tell at 6am a few days removed.

Ant-Knee