My Experience in Community Theater: Episode Two

And then, as fate would have it, I, Saint Cupcake, was thrown a bone.

When I was 12, I was obsessed with Lord of the Rings. Like, an embarrassing amount. I would make up and act out stories about it in my room. But everything I said sounded so wrong for those characters in my regionally non-specific American accent that I started softening my R’s to sound more British. Over the past 11 years I have carved out a pretty authentic English accent. This enabled me to catch the bone fate had thrown.
     In this particular play, which takes place in Connecticut in 1936, there happens to be a character that is both female and English. She’s a large, frumpy, middle-aged woman mostly referred to as The Inspector. I had gotten pretty comfortable in my chair by this point, as I had not volunteered to read for anything, when the director asked a woman to read for The Inspector. She seemed to be a very capable actress, but didn’t do well with the accent. When she finished, the director asked if anyone else wanted to read for The Inspector and I raised my hand and said quickly, “Oh! I would!”

Just like that. Like I had been waiting in the back for inspiration to strike or for a character I really felt. But that isn’t true. I don’t know if you picked up on what had happened here, but the bone I caught was not that I love accents and happen to be pretty good at this particular one—it was that this woman had not been good and I knew I was better than she was.

I was the girl who could not drag herself on stage until she had proof that she was going to be better at it than someone else. Cowardice is dangerously easy to dress up.

I am not one to think very highly of myself, but I really didn’t think I was one to use another’s weakness as the ego boost required to do something I had volunteered for in the first place. I might be making a big deal of this because my reading a scene was not, in and of itself, a mean thing to do. But if I am known as anything, I want to be a cheerleader(figuratively). I want to be for everyone. I want to rally for the success of each individual I come into contact with.

This has given me a little insight into why actresses and actors are batsh*t crazy. It’s because they must compete for everything. And once you get it, you still haven’t won, you have to then prove that you deserved to get it, that you’re capable. You also spend a large amount of your time with other people who are crazy for all the same reasons as you. In community theater that means you become this little family unit. I currently have one cousin, two friends, one big sister, one aunt, one brother, and one twin.

Something I didn’t really expect was how much say you don’t have. I didn’t know until the first read through that kissing would be involved. I don’t really care, but it’s something to know you don’t get a say in the matter. The first dress I tried on had a much lower neckline than I’m used to, but it’s my costume, so there you go. (It deserves to be said that this dress is a floor-length ivory gown with sheer fabric over the chest. It’s no Jessica Rabbit.) The Inspector has one line that I really would not want to say. You just don’t get much choice. I was lucky in that I got a character who I am both comfortable with portraying and who is really super awesome. Fantastic bit of writing there.

END OF EPISODE 2

Will Tori get a role? Yes, you can tell that she did. Will she learn not to be a coward? Probably not. Will she save Timmy from the well? That is not a question that was posed here. Tune in next time for the exciting continuation of My Experience in Community Theater!