I can feel it in the air as I enter the theatre building, tonight is our last show. Something about the energy is different than it has been since day one. An excitement, a sadness, nostalgia, fear, happiness, so many mixed feelings all rolled into one ball called closing.
I am sure we all feel it and we, I believe, work to be in the moment which is this time. We shall enjoy our last show and keep our nostalgia to ourselves until we are done. Yes, until we are done. This world is different from ones I have known before. It is not high school, or a little show no one sees, or something insignificant (there are no small shows or parts only attitudes that make them small), where on closing night we can play for ourselves, joke around and do our thing. No this is professional and it is our job to bring life to characters and tell story for an audience who has never seen this and wants to know. So we play this show, as we have played each one before, keeping our emotions in check and letting the emotions of the characters and story surface.
At curtain call, we take our bow, and we are allowed as we walk off to let ourselves show. We are sad to see new friends part, sad to see our work complete, to not come here tomorrow, to break our routine. We are happy with our success, the friends we have made, the chance to move forward and begin fresh. We have fear and excitement for the unknown of what next. And we have this moment in which we will celebrate and toast our success.
We hug, we laugh, and we gather in the green room. We, as we have done so many times, break bread, open wine, tell stories, reminisce, we cry, we smile and we party. I step back to watch all of this, taking it in. I have never felt included at any party, but I am accepted and present. I as observe I am awed by what we created. It is not just a story which audiences have seen. It is a family. Some us will go on as great friends, other acquaintances, others just ships in the night, but it is a family. This family in particular has carried no ego, drama, or personal battles. We have got along and connected with each other.
This rare privilege has been oh such a sweet treat. From that sweetness it has not only brought us close together but it has raised the caliber and the body of our work which was the Canadian Premiere of To Master The Art.
Between shows today I went for a massage. As I lay on the table, feeling a relaxed and a little tired, I thought "I can hardly wait to get home and relax tonight after the second show". Little bells rang inside when I said that. I stopped, and recalled what I said and thought about it for a few moments while I lay there.
One of the skills we develop as actors is the skill of living in the moment. Each time we say a line we have to dedicate our focus to saying it as if for the first time. Each time we listen to that long monologue, we must hear it with fresh ears, and so we learn to live in the moment of where we are. And here I was already racing through my day, it was only 430, to get to 1130. Seven hours skipped over in a moment of thought. I took it in and said "I can hardly wait for this moment and the next and the next to sink in." And so they did.
I lay there and with greater appreciation took in the massage. As I left I smiled as the warm sun beat down on me, after a few cold days without it. I walked carefully and purposefully taking in the park as I passed, the overpass, the stores, and my surroundings as I walked to the dinner I had planned.
I was seated by the hostess at Garlic's, a highly recommended fancy restaurant, beside the theatre. I looked over the menu, ordered myself a nice chardonnay, garlic frites, a half chicken on mashed potatoes with a side of maple roasted vegetables. When it arrived I chewed slowly and took in the moment I was living. The luxury of the food, the atmosphere, and I reminded myself to relish each moment.
So the night progressed and I did not make it home, as I previously thought for 1130. To our surprise, the writers of To Master the Art, had come in from Chicago to see our production and following the show they wanted to meet us. Out of the dressing room I came and the moment that I almost missed in my hurry to get home (in my thought earlier) was the very casual, impromptu party that happened in the green room. The moments of wonderful stories on how this show came to be, the research and the fun which brought it all together. But most of all, the human connection as we all shared another moment which remains as part of our consciousness.
I am a bit behind on my London experience but I have not forgotten all of my readers. Just been enjoying myself and having some late nights. Let me tell you about something that happened a few days back.
One of the magic aspects to live theatre is that it is live. It means that things happen, things change and as actors we roll with it and have fun, so does the audience.
I am on stage, an actor is saying his line and out comes, "he's going to open his own butcher, his dad likes delis and stuff!" Definitively not the line of "he's going to open his own deli, his dad's a butcher". To my left, I can hear the stifled laughter and feel the smirk of the other actor, in front of my I can see the attempt to hold in laughter from another actor, and for myself, I can feel the urge to let go a full bodied laugh. But we can't! The show is not for us but for the audience. For them the line is fine, we need not holler at its error. So as professionals we must keep it together and go on with our scene. A challenge but a fun one.
Sometimes on stage things go "wrong" and we need to acknowledge them. Like when I said "which is another word for ....." and forgot the word cowardly. I stumbled repeated myself as if trying to find the word and once again found myself blank. From across the stage another actor in the scene says "cowardly?", as a question in character, and completes my line. To which I must respond to keep it real. "Exactly, thank you!". Not even in the script, but necessary to keep things truthful on stage. As a professional, I felt like a fool in front of my colleagues, as a professional, I accept it and carry on with the scene. Again, the moment is not for us, but for the audience.
It is the afternoon before we open. We have assembled in the theatre, in the late afternoon, for some final notes and tweaks. But a few hours work before dinner and then we open.
Our director does not take long. Twenty minutes, if that, are needed to relay the few things that need to be looked at, briefly. Along the way we all chuckle at the notes and the brief stories that come with why we did whatever to lead to that note. It truly is more fun than work. And then to the stage.
The leads are up refining a moment, shifting position slightly to open something up for better audience view; we are after all presenting the stage stuff for an audience. As they wait for something technical to get sorted out they chat, the chatter becomes a giggle and finally a laugh. I looked around, a number of various conversations, all smiles and laughter. There it is, right before me one of the elements that hold me in this great life. Laughter. I remember my cubicle job, years ago, and the silence that it held. The almost fear of frivolousness. No one laughed and the only talking happened in respect to the project or necessary change of information. I dreaded that place and have heard there are many more like it. But here, today, I am reminded that this theatre and many others around the world are regularly filled with laughter, it is a part of our work, and I get to revel in it daily. The time passes quickly, and we are done. I head to my dressing room to grab my dinner and there at my mirror are a small pile of gifts.
It is opening night, and as per the traditions, people exchange gifts, to congratulate, to commemorate, to remember, to share the experience we have been on. Nothing extravagant, and it does not need to be, just items to remind of and connect to this show. A wooden spoon, an ice cube tray, a flower, a card, some food and so on.
I smiled and laughed and thought to myself: laughter and gifts are what my job entails. Everyday in some way I am given these things and London has helped me to see them. Oh what a life!
Tonight we had our second of three previews. A good responsive audience. Such a nice thing to hear the audience react to the work. The humour of the show comes through, the audience laughs, the sorrow comes in and the audience goes silent. Up here you can hear them breathing, sighing with you; quite an amazing feeling
After the show we gather in the green room for notes. Still in previews so we discuss little tweaks, little changes, just to make it all right. But before we begin, we celebrate, a little. Another actor opens a bottle of champagne, and we each get a small sip. A few mouthfuls of joy before notes. A tangible moment with nine other people where we get to smile and appreciate the time and effort we have put into this. A moment to appreciate ourselves.
We move from our celebration to notes, and I listen to them all. Nothing direct for me, but lots to pick up here. One actress, she is so gracious, after each note she simply says "Thank you". What a wonderful thing. She accepts it for what it is, a note, and takes it in. I know that she accesses it, decides on it and integrates. There is no justification for her action on stage, just a simple thank you so she can grow.
