Lisha Cassibo has been writing for the Uxbridge Cosmos for two years, both as a freelancer and as a columnist. She has also written for several parenting magazines both here in Canada and for English publications in Switzerland. She graduated from Carleton University with an honours degree in Journalism and English Literature. She lives with her family in Sunderland.
An Actor's Nightmare
This isn't an updated version of the one act play that many of us studied in drama class in high school. And I don't think it's repeating or treading upon the toes of my esteemed Cosmos colleague Jen C. who tries to make her living solely by performing for other people. It is a very real story, however, and one that I think Jen may relate to.
I am fortunate enough to be able to call myself a semi-professional actor, in that I get paid to do what I love - acting on a stage. I am currently in production of my fifth show with the Herongate Barn Theatre, north of Pickering. But this play has been unlike anything I, or my cast mates, for that matter, have ever experienced before.
You see, this play, called Rock N' a Hard Place, was written for those of us who are on stage. Lighting and technical director Michael LeBlanc took up his pen last year and wrote a play with seven particular actors in mind. That play has undergone an arduous birthing process, morphed into something quite different than what it started out as, and is now the “Christmas Show” at The Barn.
It's been hell.
When I first got the script, I was, of course, excited to see just what kind of character had been created for me. I read it through, and I cried. Was this what Michael thought of me? Was I as one-dimensional as this person on the page in front of me? I completely get that not all lead roles are the plums - quite often the supporting roles are much more juicy and entertaining, but cripes, this was supporting the supporting roles! Perhaps my opinion of myself was just a little too high...
We did a read through after much of the preliminary morphing had occurred, and I was still not very happy with my character. Even worse, her name was Lisa - just a little too close to home. I pushed for Kelly, but to no avail. I always wanted to be called Kelly.
I seriously considered bailing on the project, as I didn't think I wanted to commit the time necessary to do a run (two months) for a role I detested. But that marvelous entity called the actor's ego clicked in one evening as I was pondering the problem - I realized that, if this play actually made it to the stage, and if this play actually got published, and if I was one of the actors who premiered it, then my name would be in the cast of characters that appears at the front of a script when it says “First produced in the Such-and-such Theatre on Such-and-such a date” and you read the names and, even though you have no idea who they really are, you're impressed because their names are at the beginning of the script. My name would be there, and actors the world over would wonder who I was! Ego won, I agreed to the show.
Not to brag about my thespian abilities or anything, but I think I've managed to turn Lisa into a pretty interesting little character. I thoroughly enjoy playing her, and the play has come together really well. We've reached the point where we're having fun on stage, and are comfortable. Almost. We'd be perfectly happy if it weren't for the audiences. Now I know I've done a column before on the different types of audiences that exist. But this is a whole new world.
When a cast gets handed its scripts, 99.9% of the time it's a published work. It's been performed. It's out there. People may know it, it has a history. A track record. So when you perform the piece, you have an idea of where the highs and lows should be, where the laughs are, what the people will like and don't like. So if an audience comes in and just doesn't seem to get it and crickets are the loudest sound around for miles, it's easy to blame them (the people, not the crickets). Nothing wrong with the script, you say, it's got Samuel French's name behind it! Must be the bums in the seats. Pun intended. With this show, however, it's different. WAY different. Each joke that doesn't get a giggle, each gag that seems to go unseen - we're all taking it very personally. How can we not?! Each actor is asking him or herself “Is it me? Is it us? Does the play stink? Should we just quit now? Should this have never happened?” all the time. Heaven forbid we have two “dud” nights in a row, we're all ready to go home and slit our wrists over it all. The next night, though, we might bring the house down and get a standing ovation. Then we all get backstage, high five one another and convince ourselves that we knew it all along, it's a great show, must just be the audiences.
It's hell.
Being that insecure night after night, wanting people to like it so badly and giving everything you've got to make that happen - I never been so drained after performing. And never felt so much a part of something “new, and great, and exciting!” (that's one of my lines…) I'm proud of the show, I think we all are. And we know we're doing it justice. Yet we're putty in the hands of the almighty audience, without whom there wouldn't be a show.
Got a frail ego and a desire to please? Be an actor. It's hell. And I love it.
(Rock N' a Hard Place really is a funny show and should be seen by all - it runs at Herongate Barn Theatre until December 31. Shameless self promotion.)
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