Here We Come A-Caroling

"I think you should take your job seriously, but not yourself - that is the best combination."

--Dame Judi Dench

Who doesn't love Dame Judi Dench? I'm still ticked that she was killed off in the Bond movie Skyfall. First, they came for my boyfriend Pierce Brosnan and replaced him with some blond guy, and then they burn the infamous M? Even though she isn't a Bond girl anymore, Dame Judi has always been smart, determined, and talented; she also does it all without having to look like a walking X-ray that's been Botoxed into something resembling a goalie mask without the air holes.

While I am not a professional actor, I was lucky enough recently to be cast in the local production of the Dickens classic, "A Christmas Carol" and let me tell you, acting is hard. It's not just memorizing lines and reading them with some emotion. If it were just that, we'd all be walking around with sacks of Emmys and Oscars. The lines are only the first part of it. Memorization is vital, but it's more than that. It's not simple recitation; it's becoming the character who is speaking the line, walking into their world and taking an audience with you. Sure, no pressure, right?

In the case of Dickens, his characters all have British accents. I struggled with this. In the first few reads, my accent was somewhere between Masshole, the Mason Dixon line and a Manchester United fan. I was convinced seventeen dead Irish relatives would leap out of the graveyard to haunt me for pretending to be a subject of Queen Victoria. Hey, it's a ghost story, it could happen.  

My roles were that of Bob Cratchit's daughter, Belinda, Fan Scrooge, the doomed younger sister of Ebenezer, and the kid at the end who buys the turkey. They call him, oddly enough, Turkey Boy. The show was produced by local director Peyton Pugmire of Creative Spirit, and it wasn't a full-on play, but rather a staged reading. Characters are costumed but have scripts, so it's dramatic, but there's no colossal set with dozens of props. The production was performed in the Jeremiah Lee Mansion, so really, what else is there to add?

My acting talents so far have been limited to some improv, high school, and college plays, and lying to my children about certain holiday icons which will go unnamed here. I found it difficult to believe that in less than two weeks, and only seven short rehearsals, that I could accomplish anything without tripping over something or setting something on fire. Thankfully, the candles were battery operated, and I did not land in a heap at the bottom of the impressive mahogany staircase. That is a massive win for me; often just getting across the room whilst remaining upright is a struggle for me.

After the first rehearsal, which was just a read through by the actors, I drove home and my face hurt from smiling so much. The experience of meeting new people, doing something I'd always dreamed of, and learning more about acting put me over the moon. The cast was amazing; on the first night, everyone there was already in character, with perfect accents and expressions. I was furiously highlighting all 10 of my lines and scribbling notes like "Get a notebook" and "look solemnly at Ebenezer." Oh, and there was singing too. Holy Wassail, Batman, bring out the figgy pudding and don't forget the cup of good cheer. What could be more fun than that?

 (photo courtesy of Peyton Pugmire)

Costuming, that's what. The costumer was nothing short of a miracle worker. It's not easy making a big, loud, Irish redhead look like a male Victorian child, but she had it under control. Finally, we got to use the Jeremiah Lee space for two dress rehearsals before the performances. It's very authentic in there, right down to the balmy 40-degree temperature on a windy December night. Jeremiah Lee died of pneumonia after spending hours in a cornfield evading British troops, and I was definitely channeling his shivering, despite some very modern Cuddle Duds under my Victorian garb.

This is a weekly paper, so allow me to step into the role of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, and report that all performances were top-notch, got rave reviews, and played to a sold-out house. I'm sure that will happen, but I'm writing this ahead of opening night. Dame Judi is right when she says to take the work seriously, not yourself. I had moments of sheer terror during this process, as well flubbed lines, missed cues and one wardrobe malfunction, but all there is to do at those times is to keep going and not let it get at you. Stuff like that happens to me every day, at least in the play there were actors around me who had the same experiences. Is all the world a stage? Thankfully no, most of us do not dress up like one of those strange Christmas dolls, frozen in song, but if you get the chance to try it? Do it. It's transformational, at least for a few days. You can go back to your real life anytime, spend some time in another world, you'll be glad you did. Cast photo courtesy of Peyton Pugmire.

All The World's A Stage

“I know very little about acting. I’m just an incredibly gifted faker.”

---Robert Downey Jr.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be up on stage, acting in a play? Some think it’s easy, but every step taken, every word spoken is precisely planned. You must stand where the director has told you to stand and you must say the words exactly as the playwright wrote them. It’s something that requires a lot of concentration while at the same time it has to seem like it’s as natural as breathing.  Monologues and scenes that have been watched and played by thousands of audience members and actors must sound fresh and new. Seriously, everybody and their brother has at least read Romeo and Juliet, if not seen it performed. Making a romance from centuries ago come to life, when most people just think, “Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy finds girl again (dead, but not really) boy kills self, girl kills self” is no easy task.

In elementary school I was in a few plays, as every kid was. Juliet might be a tough role but try being wrapped in crepe paper and being a cabbage. In middle school there was one of those horrible history plays, about Abe Lincoln, but of course it didn’t include him getting shot in the head at a play. That’s probably too complex for 6^th grade, not to mention the violence. It was more about Abe’s early days.  I played “Townsperson Number 1” who got to say, “Here comes the President” and I almost blew the line.  By high school, the plays had improved and even if my acting hadn’t it was still fun. Senior year I played a demented murderess with an artificial hand, who was carefully exacting her revenge, one by one, on those she felt had wronged her. That was a stretch for me because while holding a grudge is a talent of mine (literally, I am still mad at my friend Caitlin from 2^nd grade who tripped me at recess and made me dent my Mary Poppins Lunchbox) spending years looking up people and then killing them seems like way too much work.  In each play though, it was a chance to get out of my own head and be someone else. Who among us doesn’t want to do that every now and then?

So, since it would be a shame to waste all that acting background, not to mention my natural ability to be dramatic in front of groups of people, I finally pulled the trigger and tried out for some community theater. I didn’t bother to do a lot of research first, because it just seemed like it would be more fun going into it without a lot of pre-conceived ideas. Here’s a pro tip: If you try out for a musical, you will have to sing at the audition. Imagine that. Someone told me to just try out for the chorus, which I thought were like extras who wandered around in the back of a scene, humming or something. Not so much. So I’m on stage and the director asks, “What are you going to sing?” Thinking fast, I said, “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” and the piano guy goes “In what key?” Seriously? I refrained from snapping, “The ones on your piano, dummy!” It was a disaster, all six bars of it. But hey, I will try just about anything once. Or twice as it turned out.

The next audition was for a play with no music and required me to memorize a two-minute monologue. It wasn’t quite as mortifying as the musical audition and the director was nice and laughed at a few parts. Which I didn’t think were funny, so that should have told me something. Then came the waiting. Callbacks were a few days after and I was checking my email like a meth addict hoping for a hit. Finally it comes, thanking me for my time…but…they were going with someone else.

It takes a lot to get up on a stage, in front of total strangers and sing and act and, in my case, throw up in your mouth a little, but it really was fun. The sheer terror was worth it; we should all do something that scares us. Not every day, because stress kills, but once in a while. Oh and I suggest taking a friend with you. My best friend tried out too and we about killed ourselves laughing while rehearsing monologues and memorizing lines. I never cared for Shakespeare in college, but nothing beats Rosemary bursting out with “Think not I love him! Though I ask for him” at any random moment. Just call us Lucy and Ethel, and yes, we will be back.