The Theatah! The Dahnse! Act 1: I Love Theater, But Does It Love Me?

To take my mind off seemingly endless memorizations, whether deponent verbs in Latin or the 200+ musical terms, composers, instruments, and forms I get tested on this coming Thursday, I’m going to turn to theater -- or theatre, depending on which you prefer, though the latter seems to be taking hold on this side of the pond -- and introduce a couple of reminiscences.

I like to imagine what I’d choose to study given another two or three lifetimes; linguistics and anthropology are big contenders, as well as music; and I also feel definitely drawn to the world of theater. The electric excitement of live theater is compelling and whether it’s Shakespeare (my favorite) or Ibsen or Shepard, that moment when the house lights dim has to be one of the best in life. I love to read biographies of great actors (Mom recently sent me Ellen Terry’s biography and a wonderful book on Sarah Bernhard, full of illustrations); and I have a really serious thing for Stage Horror Stories – those moments when the unexpected occurs in full view of an audience. When we mortals have mishaps or missteps, though they may loom large in our consciousness there are usually not that many witnesses; but onstage there is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and a house full of captivated onlookers. My most recent favorite is Hugh Jackman’s hilarious story of wetting himself onstage during his run as Gaston in Beauty in the Beast.

For one brief shining moment my interest wasn’t entirely confined to reading and watching. Back in the late 80’s I needed an elective to finish out my B.A. and I chose Introduction to Acting. Normally I would have thought myself the last person to feel comfortable onstage, but as I stood up there, looking out at the house of the tiny, elegant Annie Russell Theater at Rollins, I could imagine finding it more thrilling than terrifying. So we students, acting experience ranging from zero to considerable amateur, led by then-Director Joe Nassif and Assistant Director Dr. J., prepared and executed a series of scenes from the canon. I did Desdemona’s handkerchief scene from Othello and took a turn (in my slip) as Maggie from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof; but my moment in the sun was as Goldie in Tennessee Williams’ Hello From Bertha – an obscure little one-act I hadn’t even heard of before. My exultation at the professors’ praise for this performance was a bit of hubris that invited retribution to visit itself on the next generation -- sort of like in the Oresteia but tawdry and sad instead of magnificent and moving. Tune in next time for Stage Horror Story I.