Nailed It
“I started crying.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I saw how much you love being on stage, and I was overwhelmed by how good this show is . . . and how good you are. I was just . . . I was afraid I’d started gasping.”
That’s the effect you had on my wife opening night.
She’s not just a biased family member in the audience. She’s an accomplished dancer and theatre major who’s seen more than her share of plays. She’s never afraid to tell the truth.
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I maintained my composure when Jim and Sandy gave their impromptu speech in the green room before our 15 minutes. I rounded up the stares and found my favorite spot, off-stage left, right where Dave Roser doesn’t want anyone to stand. I burned off a little nervous energy with heel raises. We passed out gloves. People whose mere presence make me smile gathered around, waiting to enter for “Magic.”
Lights went out. Gloves glowed, and the audience clapped. The emotions I’d held in check in the green room would remain silent no more. I felt the tears roll over my carefully made-up cheeks.
“My mascara’s gonna be a mess,” I thought. “I so miss this.”
The play went on. Sitting in a chair–a chair I’d sat in during acting class 23 years before–my sword beating my thighs in rthym to the Charles’s song, I said to myself, “this is too easy.” To that point, singing, dancing, throwing myself about the stage in a dress, felt as natural and uncomplicated as falling out of bed or waking up. Exciting, but natural.
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I’m standing on a round platform, holding hands with two remarkably talented women–one on each side. “Go,” I hear from my left, and we three begin to turn into the light. The applause’s volume rises, and I hear a few shouts.
At that moment, I knew why everyone steps onto a stage for the second time. (I still don’t know why anyone does it once.) Two hundred people, with their voices, hearts, and hands, say in uncoordinated unison, “Thank you.” And they’re thanking us for letting them watch us do what we love.
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Thank you, oh people of Pippin. Thank you for sharing with me one of the true pinnacles of humanness. Thank you for being better than expected. Thank you for loving this theatre thing as much as I do. Thank you for sharing your joy with me, which only increases mine.
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My wife thinks she knows how much I love the stage. I don’t have the heart to tell her: no one will ever know, and no scale will ever measure.
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Buzz Kill
23 years ago, I met Joe DiMercurio at auditions for his People’s Players production of Sound of Music. Over the next four years, he became one of my closest friends, particularly on stage.
Last night, after the thrill of a wonderful opering night, still buzzing from the excitement and the energy of the play, I found out that my haste in producing the program resulted in my omitting one of my best friend’s biography. It was punch in the gut that I delivered to myself.
I am sorry, Joe. I will make it up today.
Cordially,
Bill
Opening Night a Success
So, last night was Opening Night…
I personally thought it went GREAT! The audience was very receptive–laughing and clapping when and where they should have. (And not being shy about it.) I THINK this is accurate information, but I heard that we started a few minutes late because we still had a line out the door for tickets at 7:30. (?) And that, save for 9 tickets, we were sold out (?). WOW. That is amazing. I mean, I had the confidence and knew that this was going to be big and successful, but I had no idea that it would be quite like this.
Of course, there were just a few Opening Night snags–as there always will be. Last night we had 27 pages of notes from Mr. Leibrecht before the show, I’m wondering if we will have more or less this time around. I had to kind of laugh to myself when I saw him backstage walking around with his little hand held tape recorder and making notes into it as the show was going on. Amazing. This is the first show I have actually been in with Mr. Leibrecht–except for the one-acts my Junior year, but we were never on stage together–and even just after last night, I can’t believe how fun and amusing it is. Mr. Leibrecht is like a little kid in a candy shop on stage–he completely becomes a different person (obviously, that’s the point of acting)–and you can just feel how much he loves what he does and pours his heart into it. It really is a neat thing to watch and be part of.
I can’t believe we only have 3 more shows to go, though…
Prayer Before Play
One seminal moment can so focus the mind that the thing that should be central slides to the periphery.
Mr. L surprised me with “Let’s say a prayer.”
Instantly, I remembered the routine practiced by every Catholic sports team, speech club, and theatre cast and crew before any important event: hands lain upon hand, bodies pressed against bodies, some stretching to reach, others bowing to accommodate. All together for one moment, humbly before God and man, asking for His blessing on what we are about to do.
Sixpence, none the richer.
The musical group, so sadly, now, disbanded, took it’s name from a C. S. Lewis theme. Lewis said that human beings, whom God created, doing things to please Him is like a child who borrows sixpence from his mother with which to buy her a birthday present: sixpence, none the richer. It’s simply impossible to give to God something more than He already has, because we have nothing that isn’t His already.
Still, we try. Still, we must.
It’s been 20 years since I prayed before a play. Even at Fontbonne, a Catholic college, prayer before play would be inappropriate in today’s–or 1985’s—America, where the mere mention of His name is proscribed within hearing range of even a mildly compliant atheist. Thus, my surprise.
JGL: Hail Mary! ALL: Full of grace . . .
But, oh, dear God, how wonderful it felt, like slipping into one’s favorite jeans against the first good chill of fall. I felt awkward moving toward Leibrecht: unsure of my steps, uncertain what to do. Then my fellows gathered all around and seemed to vindicate my instincts to move toward the edge of the stage. I know not whose hand lay beneath mine, nor whose mine supported. The anonymity among familiars made it all the more meaningful to our masked and cloaked world of the stage, where the “real” us disguises itself for others’ pleasures. And all this within the play in which we all wear costumes and portray characters so convincingly, often, that we fool ourselves and all who know us all our lives long. All but Him, who knows us through the paints He gives us.
“Saint Genesius, pray for us. Bust your buns, people.”
Leibrecht’s finals words came too quickly. I wasn’t prepared, so the tears came before I could steel myself against them. I walked toward the bridge seeing my new and old friends through the kaleidoscope of weeping eyes, breathing halting breaths, and trying not to let it show. Ah, the masks we wear!
“Places.“
For me, the prayer worked. The tears carried off so many fears but left the strength to step onto the stage and say my lines. I don’t know if I said them well. I hope I did. I’m sure God appreciated our poor efforts to give some joy to His people with the talent and courage He gave to us in more abundance that the characters we call ourselves allow to shine through.
”And it’s seven-thirty . . .”
I have so many, many things deserving my gratitude. My debt to Him grows each day. Today, as you passed me in the dark behind the flats that hide the cyclorama, I hid my tears behind hands that folded together in prayer many times during our performance, not to plead, but to thank God for the wonderful for talents, skills, friends, love, and life He’s so graciously granted a creature as underserving as myself.
Final tech…
I personally felt that final tech did exactly what I thought it would do–everything came together. Sure, there were a few final snags to be ironed out, many notes taken by Mr. L, but that’s just standard procedure. Commenting on Bill’s blog, when I heard “Bust your buns”, it had been wayyyy too long since I heard that before a show. Before every community theatre show I’ve done though, I have found a quiet secluded spot for myself, and I have prayed and recited that ‘pre-game’ ritual that I prayed and recited before every show I was in or worked on at DuBourg. I must admit, I was a little worried whether or not we would be 110% ready for tonight’s show, but you know what? I have no worries now. As it always has, the Guild has pulled it together just in the nick of time, ready for the audience that is the final piece of the puzzle we’ve been working on for the past 3 months. Once they are there, the puzzle will be complete, and EVERYTHING will fit together just as it should. Here’s to a GREAT opening night, and 3 more GREAT performances. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:
BUST YOUR BUNS!!!!!
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