Faking It 2: Cruise Control
Tonight is the second to last night of my month long stint as a performer. And though I wouldn't have believed it a month ago, I have to admit I'm going to miss it.
In fact, oddly enough, I've only just recently started to grow into my skin as an actor. Both literally and metaphorically wearing that mask was tiring to me for a long long time. The ego bruises are still only just begining to fade. But one day last week I was in the middle of the show chatting backstage with the rest of the cast and I sort of thought, you know what, I actually kind of belong here. In the same way after a prolonged and annoying illness you one day just kind of realize that everything in your body is in working order, I've grown accustomed to the state I've been placed in. And I find that without realizing it I've been enjoying being there.
So it's too bad that it ends tomorrow. A lot too bad. The people I've worked with on the show, both the ones I've known previously and the ones I've gotten to meet, are cool beans. They've all been supportive and wonderful in ways I would never have expected. They are a talented bunch but more importantly a group of very, and I mean this in the most genuine sense of the word, good people.
After every project that I take part in I get a little bit of post partum depression. You've birthed this piece of art or whatever out into the ether and afterwards there's just this sense of, "Well... I guess that's... done. Umm. So yeah. I guess I'm gonna go make dinner now." You've put all your energy into this one arena for so long and then it just, ends. And unlike a breakup where there's negative energy that can be directed towards a specific object, the sadness of a show ending especially when it ends well is vague and disperse. It's everywhere and nowhere. It's an elephant in a tiny room that has no where to go.
Being in a play is a little like the movie Speed. Because you know, every time I do a show Jeff Daniels dies. And a bus explodes. And because, like people who go through huge harrowing events together, there's a certain crisis-like bond that gets created. It is of the moment of the disaster and impact, it is precipitated by enforced closed quarters and a need to work together under pressure. And unlike dismantling a bomb, theatre professionals have to undergo the zero hour every night for several weeks until it becomes the natural state of things.
And because of this previously "ab" prefixed now turned plain "normal" dynamic there is often a weird energy after the crisis event is over. You no longer have to band together in the face of impending danger. You can just be. Which is way harder than you'd think. I often wonder what happened to Sandra and Keanu's characters after a few months together minus bus-exploding festivities. Actually, if I remember correctly, I think they broke up before the narrative of Speed 2 begins so he could go do the Matrix thus giving us the only remotely realistic feature of the movie series I have yet found.
Anyway, cop-out pop-culture references aside, I'm bittersweetly looking forward to the next 48 hours. They'll be the last memories of this group as the collective it has grown to be. The end to the ensemble if not a connection to the individuals that make it up. They are special people. They are talented people. They are people I will miss greatly. They managed to convince me of the near impossible: that I'm sort of something that resembles a real live actor. Lack of headshots non-withsatnding, when I'm working with them, it feels like I belong in my role.
So with much love from me to you, thanks friends.
In fact, oddly enough, I've only just recently started to grow into my skin as an actor. Both literally and metaphorically wearing that mask was tiring to me for a long long time. The ego bruises are still only just begining to fade. But one day last week I was in the middle of the show chatting backstage with the rest of the cast and I sort of thought, you know what, I actually kind of belong here. In the same way after a prolonged and annoying illness you one day just kind of realize that everything in your body is in working order, I've grown accustomed to the state I've been placed in. And I find that without realizing it I've been enjoying being there.
So it's too bad that it ends tomorrow. A lot too bad. The people I've worked with on the show, both the ones I've known previously and the ones I've gotten to meet, are cool beans. They've all been supportive and wonderful in ways I would never have expected. They are a talented bunch but more importantly a group of very, and I mean this in the most genuine sense of the word, good people.
After every project that I take part in I get a little bit of post partum depression. You've birthed this piece of art or whatever out into the ether and afterwards there's just this sense of, "Well... I guess that's... done. Umm. So yeah. I guess I'm gonna go make dinner now." You've put all your energy into this one arena for so long and then it just, ends. And unlike a breakup where there's negative energy that can be directed towards a specific object, the sadness of a show ending especially when it ends well is vague and disperse. It's everywhere and nowhere. It's an elephant in a tiny room that has no where to go.
Being in a play is a little like the movie Speed. Because you know, every time I do a show Jeff Daniels dies. And a bus explodes. And because, like people who go through huge harrowing events together, there's a certain crisis-like bond that gets created. It is of the moment of the disaster and impact, it is precipitated by enforced closed quarters and a need to work together under pressure. And unlike dismantling a bomb, theatre professionals have to undergo the zero hour every night for several weeks until it becomes the natural state of things.
And because of this previously "ab" prefixed now turned plain "normal" dynamic there is often a weird energy after the crisis event is over. You no longer have to band together in the face of impending danger. You can just be. Which is way harder than you'd think. I often wonder what happened to Sandra and Keanu's characters after a few months together minus bus-exploding festivities. Actually, if I remember correctly, I think they broke up before the narrative of Speed 2 begins so he could go do the Matrix thus giving us the only remotely realistic feature of the movie series I have yet found.
Anyway, cop-out pop-culture references aside, I'm bittersweetly looking forward to the next 48 hours. They'll be the last memories of this group as the collective it has grown to be. The end to the ensemble if not a connection to the individuals that make it up. They are special people. They are talented people. They are people I will miss greatly. They managed to convince me of the near impossible: that I'm sort of something that resembles a real live actor. Lack of headshots non-withsatnding, when I'm working with them, it feels like I belong in my role.
So with much love from me to you, thanks friends.
posted by A at 5:29 PM
1 Comments:
yo Adrienne! That was a great little piece of writing there. Thank you for all you said. And now it is all gone into the ether. It was fun working with you and "horsing around" with you backstage. Good luck with whatever else you do next, and let me know if you are in something so i can come see if you fuck it up or not. ;)
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