I had attended schools at many different locations as a youth, clearly remembering that I had always made certain to pick up two of the electives that would be enjoyed the most and would carve deep lines in my board forever. Music and theater.
Nothing could describe the way I felt after studying the script so intensely, so …dramatically, and just when I thought I was ready to perform for the many… startled, someone pulled the curtain to skirt across the stage – you’re on, and do not fuck this up.
My voice had cracked and my eyes burned from the costume make-up that had been applied (what seemed only days ago) because of the sweat directly funneling to their corners. Break a leg, stop your tears, the show must go on.
As the curtain track made the sound of full extension, and the blare of the lights shouting “Action!”, I remember the faces without bodies just floating there in the dark waiting to be fed. My concern was that I would hear scoffs and see eyes rolling, shortly to leave the stage by a large hook and wearing tomatoes head to toes. Ladies sat there that didn’t want to be there, they’d be so much happier with their soaps at home. Fellas that had to be there were there either under duress or because the Chicago Cubs hadn’t won a game and there was a needed change in the witnessing of defeat. More in part it was all just good ‘ol cheap entertainment.
I first noticed the thrill of theater when I realized that inside my head I could be in two places at once, to exist and perform all the while performing to exist. With the lights burning brightly in the dead-hushed house and only the sound of my shoes on the hardwood stage, I had to remember what my director told me as encouragement when I felt nervous, the pause to recall seemed to be hours long. He said in his funny, ironically un-thespian voice, “Just act, think and feel what the writer wanted to convey in the message. Be in the feeling.” I tried, it was hard. There may have been any where between 75 to 250 people in the old auditorium, remembering my director’s words, I had to imagine everyone in their underwear, it made me feel protected knowing I had more clothes on than any one else in the entire building. Glad my leg is not broken, only bruised… Still tears in my eyes, the show must go on.
The sound that moved through my larynx caused everyone to laugh, to bellow. I knew that with more practice and exposure I’d get it right, mistakes had to be made by everyone. It’s always best to make your errors doing a Steinbeck production versus a Shakespearian masterpiece. Maybe I needed to practice using my brand new man-voice that seemed to have arrived over night. Practice, patients, learn. Quickly, I covered it up and incorporated it into the part.
I can still smell the perfume of the lead actress… the floor made no sound as she floated across it, her reality I’ve pondered too many times. She had to be because she was the one that diligently, passionately taught me about stage presence and timing, she had a lot in front of her yet she chose to help me along. Only two people had shown up for the final performance, in spots it was a total train wreck, although I know they didn’t notice because of our superb ability to hide the forgotten line and ad lib to recover. The production was my favorite of all the acts, the humor intermingled with chest clutching drama, it was just brilliant. Skinned knees, not broken… Tears streaming down my face. The show must go on.
As the auditorium lights dimmed, the curtain came closed. We hailed each other’s credits and thanked the supporting cast. The director comforted and ensured us it was not as bad as we thought, it was believed when he gave us that huge smile and told us not to become strangers. There were applause, smiles, and understanding of the part. In that, I felt the production was a smash hit. My name might never go up on the marquee, but it was a real good test of skill. She turned to me and said, “Good luck, break a leg”, we were off to study the next script.
Just a limp, not broken… Everyone can put their clothes back on now, the show must go on.
