How I Miss the Stage

About thirteen years and fifty fewer pounds ago, I attended Emporia State University, where I had gone to become a teacher; then I decided I wanted to be a Shakespearean actress. Unfortunately, retail had yet to beat the "shy" out of me, and as soon as I made my move on the theatre program, I realised I had made a mistake. I felt like everyone else knew each other from the very first day, when I'm sure that they really just had more forceful personalities -- but just the same, I felt left out.

I never hated auditions until I went to college. I never liked them, either, but the longer I stayed in the program, I dreaded them exponentially. Professionally, of course, one can't go back to the director and ask "Why didn't you pick me?" but in school, being a learning experience, we were encouraged to do so. I sat down once with the department chair, who I liked, but I didn't learn anything because (in retrospect, I realised) I didn't ask the right questions. Later, I took a class with him, and I learned that he didn't like my style of acting. Again, I liked him even after I figured this out, but I knew that if he didn't go for my style, he wouldn't cast me.

I was further intimidated by my classmates. They all seemed like nice people -- I never got the impression that any of them were cutthroat or backstabbers. But the girls were all thinner and pretty and more confident. Three strikes.

But I wanted to be in Shakespeare plays. One thing I did learn from the theatre chair was that directors want to cast people. They have a problem, and they want the auditioner to solve it. (I've also used this philosophy when going on job interviews -- "I'm here to be hired and thus solve your problem!") And I figured that if I knew my Shakespeare, I should seem like a great candidate for a show, regardless of my physical imperfections.

So the department decided it was time to put on a Shakespeare show -- Much Ado About Nothing. I love this show, plus it's a comedy, so I thought my style would lend itself well to the material. I was further encouraged when, at the beginning of cattle-call auditions, the director announced that he wanted to see a BIG PERFORMANCE. Jim Carrey-big. Over-the-top big. I thought, "Perfect!"

I got up to read for Beatrice, in the scene in which she and Benedick declare their love for each other. (A year or so after this, I spotted the gentleman who read for Benedick in a production of Measure for Measure for Shakespeare in the Park in Kansas City.) Great play, great scene, great character -- I was set. I stepped on stage, got about four words out of my mouth, and the director interrupted.

"Not you. You need to take it down."

I was stunned. Did he seriously just tell me that I was more showy than Jim Carrey?

I muddled through the audition. I think I may have gotten a callback, but I didn't attend. I dropped out of college by the end of the week.

Ever since then, it's been difficult for me to watch live theatre. I want to go, I want to enjoy the performance, but there's always a tiny part of me that feels like every time I see a show, I feel my dream die all over again. I'm glad that, during M-ACT's production of Bye Bye Birdie, I'm up in the balcony concentrating on the lights, and even though I've seen the show a dozen times, I still thoroughly enjoy it. The last couple nights, during the finale, when everyone is on stage singing, "Spread sunshine all over the place," I tear up a bit because it's so wonderful to watch. Yes, I want so badly to be onstage singing along. But for the first time since that last audition, I can be content in the audience.

Rehearsal

Being in charge of hair and makeup for a musical isn't easy, considering I really don't know what I'm doing. Fortunately for me, no one else has apparently done this job in a while, so I get a lot of leeway for just volunteering to do it.

Last night was a preview, of sorts, for hair and makeup. I didn't expect the girls to know how much makeup to apply, which is fine, although I was surprised to learn how many of them don't own lipstick. I love lipstick. Anyone who knows me will say that I'll wear lipstick even without any other makeup. I guess lipgloss is the way to go now. Maybe I'm out of touch!

But, otherwise, most of the girls looked good. They were generally cooperative when I came at them with blush, though a few are resisting my directions about the hair. I've let it go for now; I'll wait until tech week, when I'm armed with a can of AquaNet and I can say, "You're not going onstage until I approve you!" Maybe I'm a little drunk with power.