If you've read any of my theater related blogs over time, you will be familiar with my anxiety and reluctance to return to the world of community theater. Well, the time has come for me to once again walk on the boards. I know. I just posted over the summer about all the why's that I have not said yes to a show. However, as I toyed with the possibility, I realized something: I am a picky performer. Period.
I make no apologies.
Recently, a few colleagues decided to mount a production of Arthur Miller's "The Crucible". I teach this play. I consider it the pinnacle of American drama. Not only does it reveal to us the origins of the idiom "witchhunt," our history of fear controlling policy, and a beautiful bit of art forcing the public to consider life's big questions, it's simply rich soil for performers to dig into. Consequently, when I saw the notice, I was torn between my fears and my belief that important art needs to be shown to my community.
I do believe this is what I looked like when I saw the audition notice.
One of my objections over time has been the director. I've worked with some not so adept directors and I have worked with some outstanding ones. I know who I will work with and who I won't. I know who can give me adequate guidance to bring forth a personal performance from me and the entire cast worthy of the material and who will let me and others be lazy. In this instance, the director is not a reason to forego participation.
Satisfied goat approves.
Another objection I've held in the past deals with material. I don't particularly enjoy musicals. I'm not excited at the idea of dinner theater. Classical plays like Ibsen, Checkov, and Shakespeare? Sign me up now! So too was my reaction to hearing about Miller's play being done. It's not one I ever thought I'd have the chance to be a part of other than teaching it. I finally have a chance to do a show that fits my talents and my belief in classical works. Saying no to this opportunity seemed like hypocrisy.
Side-eye moose calls you out every time.
The only objections that remain to be solved or addressed involve my health worries. Will I be able to remember my lines and deliver them without my brain fog getting in the way? Will my fatigue overwhelm me and drain me too much to function? Will my joints and muscles play nicely so that I can move freely without a flare? I really don't know yet. I know that this first week back to school has been exhausting, but it always is; I know that will alleviate. I know that I am taking less pain medication than I was just a few months ago. I know that I will never discover the answers to my worries without trying. I know I want this production to be the best so that more like it happen in the future. As insecure as I am in some of my worry, I know that letting worry have control feels an awful lot like being chickenshit. I don't think I could honestly say no to this chance without regret. So here we go. Back to Salem. Back to theater. Back to my love of performing outstanding dramas. I'm scared, but I'm going to do it anyway.
Come along, kiddies. It's time to conjure some magic!
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