Questions about the thing before me

Two shows back-to-back today. I'm dreading it. Most of the time, I tell people I know to come see a show after we've had a week of a run or so.  In this case, though, our second week thus far has been pretty rocky. Line blanks, skipped moments, rushed or strained delivery, flubs on words, missed entrances--we've seen these blossom in the last few nights.

Concerned-corrective notes via email from the director and the stage manager have not, it seems, done the trick. I mean, after one "off" performance, actors usually wake up, get their stuff together, and recommit to the work. I think there was waking and recommitting; there just hasn't been the results.

Perhaps the exhaustion of two shows (of a three-hour, especially taxing show) will push us into that magic zone of "don't think/just do"--the fully and naturally reactive body who simply listens and reacts to the reality before her. Or it may just short out our brains more.

I'm not immune. Lines I've had solidly since being off book went haywire, with me swapping in new words or bits of other lines, messing up the cues for other actors. Reaction lines I've flown through before trip and stall on their way out. My vocal register creeps into my upper chest and throat, giving my voice the whiny-strained quality I dislike so. Breathing correctly and deeply, connecting my character with my core and diaphragm, diverts vital concentration away from the who-am-I/where-am-I/what-am-I-doing of the moment.

It's just rough sledding. And then there's the blank moments on stage where the ball we try to keep in the air drops to the floor. There's the electric tension of Oh, no--so-and-so has lost his place and has no idea what's next. Someone, save him! And then two people lose their place.

And, who knows, it may be I'm one of those people today. Vapor lock happens to everyone.

Dreads like these make me question again whether this theatre thing is something I should be doing. "It must be a lot of work to do this night after night," said one audience member to me last night. I agreed it was. "But you enjoy it, right?" I said I did. But that may not have been entirely honest.

I'm still happy I'm doing it. I'm pleased I've done it. It's like running or other exercise. I'm not exactly fond of the thing itself. But I like the feeling that I've done it.

Or is it, perhaps, that I appreciate ducking the guilt of not having done participated? Fear of missing out (FOMO) is a huge motivator for me, almost as big as "get an A+ on this." I do little that doesn't involve at least one of those two goals. Theatre feeds on both those motivations. I want to get applause and compliments. I want to be part of The Thing Everyone Is Doing.

On a day like this, though, looking at a solid 10 hours at the theatre...well.

Well...

JF

Addendum: the shows today went fine. Indeed, the evening show was among the strongest we've done. Go figure.