Run For Your Wife: Overdue Beginnings
This time around, I have a legitimate reason for not having sat my butt down and shared every thought and transformation happening during the rehearsals of Run For Your Wife with you. No, honestly, I swear! It's not that I don't have anything to say about it - on the contrary, it feels as if I can speak of this play and only this play and its people until it I’ve landed. It's not that I've been too tired, or caught up in real life surrealistic situations or even spent too much time petting the cat - as one might have guessed.
I'm in love with this process - it's as simple as that. We are already in our third week, with only two and a half to go before the curtain rises. I know that we're smack dab in the middle of that mythical time warp, where at the beginning you feel as if opening night is light years away - civilizations will be born, blossom and perish before you go on stage - only to find yourself standing fully costumed in the wings a heartbeat later.
That heartbeat - I want to absorb it. Breathe it in. Fill myself and my world with as much of it as possible - because I know how fast it's over.
I'm not going to lie to you; the first time I read the script, I was intrigued but skeptical. Entertained but reserved. Done the wrong way, I wasn't certain if I wanted to be a part of it - even though the humor was undeniable. So off I went to the audition, and lo and behold there sat a fully grown Pippi Longstocking (or Pippi Långstrump, as she is called originally. Sincerely, Your Neighborhood Swede). Every reservation I might have had was gone with the proverbial wind. Director Roxanne Dicke, a local theatre legend, contains more pizzazz and spunk, intelligence and humor than most of us combined. Following her vision as we revamp and re-imagine this piece of belly laughs has so far been a challenging pleasure. It's physical, it's fast - it's entertaining as hell.
It's my first time with such a small cast, and even though I have acted alongside almost all of them before - this is my first time honestly acting with them. Interacting. Exchanging energy. Finding nuances and new things. It's an extremely forgiving environment, where we try, make mistakes and then try again - where we talk and discuss and play with each other. During those moments of utter frustration, when the lines won't come or the joke falls flat, someone is always there to help you pick it up again (or take you off guard with a surprise lewd doodle).
Okay, alright, enough gushing. But you see, this is why I haven't allowed words to escape - I have been way too busy with absorbing, sponging, retaining, inhaling. I want to make sure I appreciate every second - the good, the bad and the ugly. Every crumb. Theatre can have that impact on you, whether it's on, off or behind the stage. Someone else usually said everything better, and in this case it's the highly talented teenage technician Natalie, who just started her own blog:
Community theatre is something gorgeous. The way that so many people come together and put in so much work, for absolutely no form of payment, is really beautiful. And in the truly short time that I’ve been involved, I have seen so many amazing people come, and go, and stay. And I really learned to be myself. That thought I had on my first show, “Don’t mess up.” means nothing. Mistakes happen. And that is okay. Make those mistakes, ask the questions, and learn. Theatre is art, and art is educational. For example, I also learned that when you realize your actors can see you onstage with your insanely crazy dance moves, dance crazier.