I got this interesting reply to my last post from Kyle Smith – a good actor friend:
Another lovely post! Would love to give thoughtful answers to your questions, but am in the middle of Hell Week at Broadway West in Fremont. Much like you were hurled into the depths of Hell, I was hurled into the role of Reverend Parris in 'The Crucible' when the actor who was cast dropped out under unfortunate circumstances. I am at the point where I know my lines quite well in the kitchen and the bedroom and the living room and the car, but on stage in costume under the lights - well, it's a bit harrowing.
Kyle is a lovely actor and I’m sure it will all work out wonderfully. I had the pleasure of working with him when he was the history professor in my “Yellow Stripes” at Voice One Studio Theatre. Just a great job, Kyle!
But what a coincidence! I was planning on blogging about my playing Reverend Parris in high school shortly after my hoodlum-wowing experience in "Everyman."
As you may know, the good Reverend is a weak little guy who has a daughter who dances around bonfires and plays “stick the pin in the dolly” out in the dark New England forest! All good clean Puritan fun! But still something of a career killer for dear old Dad!
In an attempt to make me look “middle-aged”, they sprayed a pound of gray paint in my hair. I remember taking a shower afterwards and seeing my legs and feet turn this weird pinkish gray color from all the paint. And the makeup lady liked to furrow these wrinkles and ridges all over my face to give me that “gaunt and wracked with guilt” look. I was told the effect was like “The Wolf Man goes to Salem.” Yikes!
Anyway this is where I learned the dark side of seducing an audience… the side of….
Stage fright!
I’m talking here about that every-pore-in-your-body-is-opening-and-you-are-totally-soaked-in-sweat-terror! Where you are paralyzed from the top of prematurely gray hair down to the tips of your silver-buckled shoes!
It’s a tough opening for the good Reverend to begin with. You have to be weeping and wailing while praying fervently as the curtain rises. Thanks a lot, Arthur Miller! As my… ahem…. “emoting” was causing derisive snickers in the audience, Miss Francis (our long-suffering drama teacher) directed me to simply “pray fervently in silent contemplation.” Then I had to leap to my feet, race across the stage, and accost our black servant with the lines:
“Out of my sight, Tituba! Out of my sight, I say!”
You can imagine how shouting “Tituba” at someone went over with an audience full of teenage boys! Oh, mother!
And then my moment of existential terror arrived. I was cross-examining my daughter Abigail (played by the wonderful Patricia Mattick) about her nocturnal “habits.” She was seated extremely far down stage, in this wooden chair. I was pacing behind her, listening intently… and… as I was pacing… I became… aware… of this… sound…
Soft, indistinct, fascinating!
I asked myself, “What was it?”
And I realized…..it …was…
Them! The audience! Breathing!
And I forgot everything! My name! My character’s name! My lines! Everything!
So Patty looked at me, expecting me to say my next line… which was something like, “Do you expect me to believe this pack of lies?” And she saw only sheer animal terror! Sheer animal terror and a plea for help! Save me, Patty! Save me!
And, cool as cucumbers, she said, “I can guess what you are thinking, Father. What fool would believe such a pack of lies? But tis true!”
And, thank the 17th Century Calvinist Gods that snapped me out of it!
So that was the first time I realized what a beast the audience was! How it lived and breathed out there in the dark! And how naked actors are up there - with nothing but their Wolf Man makeup between them and the abyss!
So I am curious! Any memories of “going up” on stage? Of realizing you had turned from predator to prey? Let me know!
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Yikes, I also played the Rev P. So this is all coming back to me in a flood of terror. Thanks a lot, Scott! My terror arrived every night, just before the curtain rise. I was expected to let out a deep, baritone, theater-filling, blood-chilling howl (to "set the tone"!). Since the "theater" seated 2500 people and since my lung capacity is equal to a mouse with emphysema I was truly scared. But I did it. Sometimes fear of the audience is a good thing, I guess. Thanks, Scott, this was another winning piece!
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ReplyDeleteWhat’s more terrifying than experiencing stage fright? Acting opposite someone who has just “gone up.” One of my early acting experiences was in a community college production of a play called “Deadwood Dick” (Okay, so it’s not exactly Arthur Miller, but it was on a stage and there were lines and costumes. After that isn’t every play pretty much the same?)
ReplyDeleteI played the barmaid with the heart of gold who would listen to her customers tell wooly tales of woe. One actor had a long monologue – a long, long monologue – that he performed faithfully every night.
Except the one performance when he went up.
Pause.
He looked at the floor.
Pause.
He looked at the ceiling.
Pause.
Then he looked at me and said “It’s your turn to talk.”
Really? Really?!! And say WHAT?
Now that I think of it, that actor may have been the Dick of the title…it was then that I learned the importance of knowing the other characters lines as well as my own.
@Scott: Oh, yes! I hated that opening. On the plus side, it was one of those key reminders that I'm not really an actor!
ReplyDelete@Staci: Isn't Deadwood Dick early Tennessee Williams? Thanks for the funny story too! And I bet you looked pretty darn hot in that barmaid costume too! Or as Rev. Parris might put it, "I'm sure you were most comely, Goody Staci..."