Monday
Jul192010
Unexpected Consequences
Monday, July 19, 2010 at 2:43PM
I asked my father while he was in the hospital, “Am I still chasing my tail.” He accused me of that. Now that he was on his way out, I needed to know. His brown eyes opened, “No. You are not. You're a beautiful actress."
He never told me that. He just wanted me to want something, to get direction. I was aging, and still living my life without a plan.
Twenty years before my father telling me who he thought I was, I graduated acting school. The admininistrator's final words were, "You're a natural." I doubted his impression.
I took scene-study classes. My teachers would say, “If you want it, you could be working.” I listened, more confused than ever. Even after a two-day acting intensive, with the acting coach taking me aside, “All you need is within you.” I was lost. I had no idea what she was talking about.
I studied improvisation, stand up comedy, and how to write a one-person show. I was a member of a theater workshop, writing and performing. I took classes in playwriting, acted in a fifteen-minute play, and in a solo piece. Yet I never submitted any of my work to any publications and I auditioned, only three times, all in 1979.
Here it was July 13, 2010. I was opening the door to a rehearsal studio, looking for Polly. She had e-mailed me, “There’s this character in this play that I am producing. You’re a perfect fit. It’s non-union. The setting is 1967; the role is Veena Geraldine Hinckle, Mayor of Wilkes Barre, Pa. Come and audition.”
There was no sign-in sheet when I arrived and no lines around the block. I was the only actor in evidence, when the director, Holly, appeared. She handed me a “side” -- a section of the play where my character was prominent.
In one scene, Veena interacted with Tony, a Mafia connected architect, who she hired to build an embassy for a non-existent country. In another, Veena was talking with Westwood, a federal agent there specifically to shut down this embassy.
My reason to be at the audition had a similar ring to another time. That was when I was driving a black Lincoln Towne car, up a hill, through hairpin curves, following other vehicles on a fall foliage tour. I had three passengers inside. Volunteering to drive, though accident-prone, was a decision I made to prove a point. I wanted to see if I would crash. I did not. I felt redeemed, capable of moving a car about on a road without incident.
Now I was auditioning. This was not because it was an opportunity to act, but more like one to uncover if I would hyperventilate or feel like I was about to pass out. I did not. This became clear, what I needed to try out for a role was desire, and then behavior follows.
My mother, and she never knew it, brought me back into acting. She had dementia. She no longer spoke. With her husband and son deceased, I was it as far as family members went. In the beginning, I resented her needing me. I was not there. In time, when I saw she was sick, I assumed the mantle of insuring her welfare.
She communicated only through music. She sang lyrics from old songs. I took voice lessons to learn to sing to her. I was taught how to sing on pitch. And I wrote, for there I was watching my mother slowly slip from my grasp.
When I got an e-mail from a theater company wondering if I had any short material I wanted to perform, I turned to what I had written about my mother. The evening of my play, I met Polly. She was acting in a two character skit. I never saw her after that, so when I got her e-mail I was taken aback.
Yesterday was the first rehearsal for "Diplomatic Relations.” I got the part of the Mayor. I think no one else tried out. As far as the cast goes, I am Grandma Moses in a sea of Lord and Lady Gaga’s.
Our play is part of the Strawberry One-Act Festival, at the Theater at St. Clement’s Church, 423 West 46th Street. We go up August 12, in Series B, beginning at 9 PM. We may close that night as well.
There are different one-acts for several evenings, each with a life span subject to the whim of audience members. They vote. If our play proves popular, we perform August 16 and maybe August 20; eventually one plays wins out.
I shall be carrying the script wherever I go. I procrastinate, learn my lines at the last minute. I don't want to that this time. I will be talking to myself in a city wherever one does that.
That is not to say I am an actor, yet.
He never told me that. He just wanted me to want something, to get direction. I was aging, and still living my life without a plan.
Twenty years before my father telling me who he thought I was, I graduated acting school. The admininistrator's final words were, "You're a natural." I doubted his impression.
I took scene-study classes. My teachers would say, “If you want it, you could be working.” I listened, more confused than ever. Even after a two-day acting intensive, with the acting coach taking me aside, “All you need is within you.” I was lost. I had no idea what she was talking about.
I studied improvisation, stand up comedy, and how to write a one-person show. I was a member of a theater workshop, writing and performing. I took classes in playwriting, acted in a fifteen-minute play, and in a solo piece. Yet I never submitted any of my work to any publications and I auditioned, only three times, all in 1979.
Here it was July 13, 2010. I was opening the door to a rehearsal studio, looking for Polly. She had e-mailed me, “There’s this character in this play that I am producing. You’re a perfect fit. It’s non-union. The setting is 1967; the role is Veena Geraldine Hinckle, Mayor of Wilkes Barre, Pa. Come and audition.”
There was no sign-in sheet when I arrived and no lines around the block. I was the only actor in evidence, when the director, Holly, appeared. She handed me a “side” -- a section of the play where my character was prominent.
In one scene, Veena interacted with Tony, a Mafia connected architect, who she hired to build an embassy for a non-existent country. In another, Veena was talking with Westwood, a federal agent there specifically to shut down this embassy.
My reason to be at the audition had a similar ring to another time. That was when I was driving a black Lincoln Towne car, up a hill, through hairpin curves, following other vehicles on a fall foliage tour. I had three passengers inside. Volunteering to drive, though accident-prone, was a decision I made to prove a point. I wanted to see if I would crash. I did not. I felt redeemed, capable of moving a car about on a road without incident.
Now I was auditioning. This was not because it was an opportunity to act, but more like one to uncover if I would hyperventilate or feel like I was about to pass out. I did not. This became clear, what I needed to try out for a role was desire, and then behavior follows.
My mother, and she never knew it, brought me back into acting. She had dementia. She no longer spoke. With her husband and son deceased, I was it as far as family members went. In the beginning, I resented her needing me. I was not there. In time, when I saw she was sick, I assumed the mantle of insuring her welfare.
She communicated only through music. She sang lyrics from old songs. I took voice lessons to learn to sing to her. I was taught how to sing on pitch. And I wrote, for there I was watching my mother slowly slip from my grasp.
When I got an e-mail from a theater company wondering if I had any short material I wanted to perform, I turned to what I had written about my mother. The evening of my play, I met Polly. She was acting in a two character skit. I never saw her after that, so when I got her e-mail I was taken aback.
Yesterday was the first rehearsal for "Diplomatic Relations.” I got the part of the Mayor. I think no one else tried out. As far as the cast goes, I am Grandma Moses in a sea of Lord and Lady Gaga’s.
Our play is part of the Strawberry One-Act Festival, at the Theater at St. Clement’s Church, 423 West 46th Street. We go up August 12, in Series B, beginning at 9 PM. We may close that night as well.
There are different one-acts for several evenings, each with a life span subject to the whim of audience members. They vote. If our play proves popular, we perform August 16 and maybe August 20; eventually one plays wins out.
I shall be carrying the script wherever I go. I procrastinate, learn my lines at the last minute. I don't want to that this time. I will be talking to myself in a city wherever one does that.
That is not to say I am an actor, yet.
Reader Comments (7)
You will be brilliant - that is who you are....and so have fun doing it....you are indeed an actor....plus much more. Your father and your acting teacher were on to something - you have more gifts than anyone I know - all performed on such a high level! YOU GO GIRL!!!! Knock 'em dead....I will be reading about you in the NY Times.....and everyone will say "I know Jane".....superstar!!!!
Jane - this is so exciting - I wish we were able to be there to see you perform. Molly says, "Jane will totally rock this" - and I have to agree with my 13 year olds opinion!
You never know what window will open when the door shuts. Your mother still had the ability to communicate with you even in her dementia. Every experience gets you ready for your next. Best of luck Jane you deserve a great run.
After seeing you in stand-up, I have no doubts about you're ability to be fantastic! Get up there and don't look back.
I want to go ....
Love,
Diane
Your blogs are so fascinating because every word I know to be true. What an amazing life you have had... and it continues. When lightening strikes for you, Jane, as the angels always say "Fear not!". You will be ready because you have been rehearsing for that that moment all of your life.
P.S. 'Grandma Moses in a sea of Lord and Lady Gagas'...you should exact high pay for that one...hilarious!
What a great opportunity for you shine.
Isn't that what stars do?
Your incandescence will not be an
unexpected consequence.