Jennifer Carroll is a 21 year old actor and writer. She first began writing for the Uxbridge Cosmos in 2007 when she had the opportunity to share her experiences as a Canadian ambassador for an international conference for women in Dubai. At the beginning of 2008, she moved to Ireland to pursue a career in theatre and film. Far From Home is her monthly account on living and working in Dublin.
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Tis the Season
They say there are two rites of passage for any young actor: cruise ship entertainment and children's shows. Every actor, as they begin their first trembling steps on what they determinedly hope will be a long and illustrious career, shall pay their dues by performing in schools or on boats. Thus it has been, and shall be forevermore.
I, being the naïve and single-minded girl that I am, thought perhaps, if I just kept my eyes fixed forward, unwavering, I could avoid the inevitable. I could, with enough determination and grit, bypass these genres that lack even the residue of profundity. For five years, I was doing well. I worked in offices to pay for acting workshops, I served food to fund theatre companies, I slung beer to finance the unending stream of fruitless auditions. Then it struck me. I could get paid to be an actor. I could earn money as I networked and honed my craft. And what jobs pay, no matter what? Children's shows and cruise ships. That's right, I said it. And with the promise of a steady paycheque and daily performances, I decided that paying my dues was long since… well, due.
Since I wasn't sure if I had what I've heard some people call 'sea legs', I decided I could handle entertaining children for a specified period of time. I also decided that if I were going to do this, I would have to do it properly. I would not only do a children's show, but a children's Christmas show. As we enter our third week of rehearsals for “A Hippo for Christmas, a musical play for three (3) players”, my ears are swimming in Christmas songs while my eyes are swimming in red and gold and glitter. And it's only November.
I'm surprised to say it's not all bad. First of all, this play has led me to discover Bob Dylan's version of Must Be Santa, which has rapidly become my new favourite Christmas tune. I have met an accomplished group of character actors who have already taught me more than I thought I could know about physicality, puppetry, dialect, and character choice. I have been endorsed by a producer as a person worthy of compensation for her craft - something surprisingly rare in my field. And perhaps most importantly, I have convened daily with a group of likeminded artists to tell a story.
And there is something profound in that. The story will not change nations or move mountains, but there is something soothing in the gathering of fellows who love the same things you love. Who value the same things you value. That daily interaction with professional peers is heartwarming and nerve-steeling. It makes it easier to face the long, cold lines of open auditions. They commiserate with your rejection and celebrate your success. As we rehearse around our warm cups of tea in shivering halls, I find myself struck with a simple realization: I would not want to be anywhere else.
I will also tell you a delicious little secret: if you want adoring fans, clung to the edges of their seats while you traipse across stageboards in front of them, fill a theatre with children and tell them a story of a little girl who wanted a hippo for Christmas, and the perils Santa will go through to make sure she gets one. You'll have them eating out of your hands.
