Crossing the Boards: Step 1

This past weekend we went to see "The Tragedy of Coriolanus" at a local theatre. It was good, almost too modernized, but still it was good.

The play was more than just a play, it was the tipping point, the tempting sip if you will, of an attempt to break a bad habit.

You see, I am addicted to theater. I love it. I love watching it, I love working in it, I love the way it sounds, the way it looks, the way it smells. Even the way it tastes. I adore it.

The theater however does not love me back. Filled with many young kids looking for an easy and fun major, many full-grown adults looking for a way to skirt adulthood, and far too many people who missed the day when responsibility, duty, and organization were taught in their respective childhoods. The theatre is a place where I would gladly give out my blood, sweat, and tears - in fact my obsessive workaholic personality triples in the theatre - but the rewards for my very life essence are low and uninteresting. Usually it's a kick in the teeth, served with a smile.

This is not because I don't get cast in things, on the contrary, I get cast in a lot of things. However, I am usually the only one in the cast who has any concept of organization and punctuality, which means I am usually asked to do things that are very "administrative assistant" like...something I try to avoid seeing as how I spend a good 50-60 hours a week doing that.

Because of the psyche-poisoning effects of theatre, and the fact my husband gets grumpy when I spend all my time at rehearsal (a necessity), I resolved this spring to go cold-turkey and quit theatre all together. No more being in plays, no more classes, no more reading plays, no more seeing plays, no more Sundance Channel. No more listening to tapes of Shakespearean Actors, no more Musical theatre cd's. None. I quit, I'm walking away. I am even searching for a new major rather than finishing the theatre one. No more theatre.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I have fallen off the wagon. I am now in danger of being run over by the wagon...and probably the horse it came in with...

After reading that horrid book (See "Waste of Paper") and the play. After re-reading King Lear (for fun). After putting away all my scripts in alphabetical order. And worse of all, after some punk kid who has no idea said that he was a "better actor" than I was, I gave up. And at the same time a tantalizing audition with a "grown-up" company for "The Imaginary Invalid". My name is in and now the preparation begins.

Step One: Pick a monologue. Thankfully, I already have a large repertoire and memorize things very quickly. Below is the choosen monologue.

JULIA
This babble shall not henceforth trouble me.
Here is a coil with protestation!

Tears the letter

JULIA
O hateful hands, to tear such loving words!
Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey
And kill the bees that yield it with your stings!
I'll kiss each several paper for amends.
Look, here is writ 'kind Julia.' Unkind Julia!
As in revenge of thy ingratitude,
I throw thy name against the bruising stones,
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain.
And here is writ 'love-wounded Proteus.'
Poor wounded name! my bosom as a bed
Shall lodge thee till thy wound be thoroughly heal'd;
And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss.
But twice or thrice was 'Proteus' written down.
Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away
Till I have found each letter in the letter,
Except mine own name: that some whirlwind bear
Unto a ragged fearful-hanging rock
And throw it thence into the raging sea!
Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,
'Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus,
To the sweet Julia:' that I'll tear away.
And yet I will not, sith so prettily
He couples it to his complaining names.
Thus will I fold them one on another:
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.