Today has been full of the hunt. Job applications are already out in the world and exciting new things are already starting to take shape. Can't wait to tell once I hear more. I recently found a play reading club in the city and we had a lot fun rediscovering plays like Stop Kiss. It's early yet, but this summer should provide us with plenty more Journey to tell. Naturally, one shouldn't claim to have what one has yet to receive. It's simply bad luck, in my opinion. Lucky, time will be the swifter wind this go-around.
The day came and went. The rain came and went. But the cold settled in for the evening. It was my mother, my sister, and I, eating good home-cooked food, and watching this very fun movie called Take the Lead, starring Antonio Banderas. It's very nice rendition of a familiar storyline: a funny and honest portrayal of an outsider coming into an underprivileged, inner-city school to help the worst of the misfits find their way in the midst of tough life circumstances. In this case, a dance teacher decides to volunteer his time and skills to the detention class. Along the way, they learn that dance, like life, takes trust: it cannot be done alone, but also doesn't have to be done for anyone else that may be watching; their best dancing happened when they were out there on the floor and didn't care who might be watching. And, my goodness, was the dancing fun to watch.
One thing we practice in acting is the concept of public privacy. The idea is, very early on in training, to get comfortable doing something in your "room" onstage as if you were in your real life room, with the door shut, and no one was looking. In order to reveal the life of the story that captures our attention so well, you can't bother yourself with the fight you had with a boyfriend an hour ago, or that you dropped ice-cream on those pants you ironed for thirty minutes or even that you knew your favorite director is going to be in the audience that night. None of it has anything to do with the story on stage. It has nothing to do with your character. This Other Life, when the lights come on, and the theater gets quiet, is its own bubble--regardless of whether it directly involves the audience or not--you have to dance to your part, and with your partners, with the ecstatic abandon one might attempt in an empty rehearsal hall.
It's important for me to admit this because this is one of the biggest personal challenges I have faced. Being an actor new to the industry can be an overwhelming experience. You have little money. Maybe there's struggles within the family or circle of friends. Maybe its about your career. Maybe its about something else. You have enormous amount of excellent competition, each of them clawing and scratching their way to the top along side you. Success can get you to the point where they suddenly look better than you, dance/sing/act better than you, know more people than you, work harder than you, smile more than you do, heck, maybe people just plain like them better than you. And then, there are all these directors, artistic directors, castings agents, and a whole host of other theater types that you somehow have to leave a good impression while not looking like you're trying to leave a good impression. And THEN there could be your own opinions: did I like what I did? It could even be about waking up on the wrong side of the bed. Professional or personal, the friction from the grind can seep into every crevice of your day-to-day.
And in the attempt to protect ourselves from these inner doubts, we forget on stage to learn how to dance alone. To throw away the backstage bricks that weigh us down and find the Waltz or Cha-Cha of this other life that we inhabit for a few hours. Just like in the movie, I understood that to these kids, that release is freedom, and honesty, and so much the celebration of everyone's self, and what makes people so damn interesting, that it seems silly to worry about anyone noticing.... Those who are more concerned about their ensemble and the story say so many better things about who they are than the self-conscious actor that always needs to prove something.
I made a promise to myself a very long time ago that, no matter, no matter how hard this profession became, that I would always find something fun and exciting about it to keep me going. I think part of that is finding art that touches me. Like this movie. It's crucial to find the kind of work that lights your fire because that will only help you when you need to light a flame in your audience. Let's say that's one of my new goals from here on out--let's find the things that inspire--even if its other competition--and let that be the basis for our new moves.
In the spirit of happy discovery, here's my randomly entertaining video of the week.
-Ben
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