"I object!"
-- Ken, in Rumors, by Neil Simon
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The fourth show of our 60th season, Rumors, opens Tuesday. Right now we are in the middle of the Honk run, for which I'm running the front of house ticket booth and zipping across the stage in the opening number as a kind of Oriental cameo. I read when I can, work when I have to, drink when I must, and just try to remember my lines and blocking. Sometimes, that's all you really can do.
I'm a background dancer for Thoroughly Modern Millie, and so far we've learned two full dance numbers from our visiting New York choreographer. It's shiek and sleek stuff, probably the most fun moves I've ever learned for a show. Every morning I sweat it out with a smile and sing ball-shrinking notes like there's no tomorrow.
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Been thinking a lot about theatre lately, namely, whether it's "worth it," whatever "it" is. All this anxiety and pressure, nitpicking yourself and reversing and replaying, all for what? Laughs? Tears? I once said on stage, "Nothing matters / Except laughter and tears," but is that really true? Why do we do this crazy little thing for old people and children? Do we need a reason?
I sure hope so.
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"Níl ba maith liom saol déan aithris ar ealaín . Ba maith liom saol bheith ealaín."
-- Gaelic proverb: I do not wish for life to imitate art. I wish for life to be art.
