Underneath The Lintel
There are a few things in life that I've felt like I needed to do. One of them was performing a One-Man show. I half ass searched for one for years, but I didn't see any plays that were for me. So many were corny or poorly written. One afternoon, Suzanne Boles asked me if I would be interested in doing a one-man show. I got excited because she didn't usually bring up things like this unless she found something good. I got excited and nervous. I asked her what the play was about. She said, "A librarian". As you may have suspected, when I heard Librarian, my excitement deflated a little. Was it a play just talking about books? Was it the day to day musings of a guy sitting behind a desk checking in book after book? I put those thoughts behind me and said YES. After all, if the script sucked, then I would decline. A couple of days later, she handed me the script for "Underneath The Lintel" by Glen Berger. I read it and my mind began to swarm with ideas for presenting this play. It's a play about a librarian who checked in a book that was over a hundred years overdue. The play is a presentation of the world travels of this Librarian who was determined to track down the person who had the audacity to do such a thing as return a book 130 years past due. If you have the chance to see a production of this play, you should. The next day I sent a text to Suzanne and said that I would do it. It was November and she had a slot in April that needed to be filled, so we planned for me to present it then. I began memorization immediately. It would be the first time I didn't have cues from other actors. It would also be the first time I didn't have to wait for the cast to get their lines memorized too. It was just me. OH SHIT! IT WAS JUST ME!! My nerves boiled and my stomach churned. Little by little, the script began etching itself into my brain. Line by line, I began photocopying the words in my head so that it looked like the page inside my mind. I began working on delivery, speech patterns, and posture. I also began to amass a lengthy list of props I needed to complete this task. April seemed like a long way off, but I wanted this show to be amazing.
Fast forward to January. I'm happily rehearsing in my house, casually still learning lines and gathering props when I can find the right one. Everything was moving along nicely...then, a phone call. Suzanne had selected a play for February that couldn't get off the ground. More problems than I care to talk about here, but it was bad. She said, "That play is postponed indefinitely. Would you be willing to move your performances up to February instead of April?" February? Fucking February? That's (January, February, March, April) That's TWO MONTHS EARLY!!! Like the pleaser that I am, I said, "Sure. I can do that" while utter panic seethed in my brain. This wasn't a casual stride to opening night. It was a chaotic sprint to opening night. I had just over four weeks until the curtain went up for the first crowd.
I read the play at least three times a day. I recorded it onto my phone so I could listen to it when I wasn't able to read it. I began diligently searching for props and set pieces. COSTUME! I forgot about the clothes that I would wear. What was I going to do with my appearance? Keep the beard? Shave the beard? Cut my hair? Leave it to become shaggy and unkempt? I thought it would be easier to let it all go ala Grizzly Adams. Turns out it looked good for the part of a manic librarian. I designed the set which looked like an old warehouse that was being repurposed for a slide show and presentation of my travels. Honestly, it all looked pretty good. Also, since I love finding Easter Eggs in films, you know, little hidden gems that only the filmmakers know about, I decided to include some Easter Eggs in the Scenery. I had something from every play that I had been in at Playmakers Theatre. A costume, a set piece, a crown, and a water bottle were a few of the dozens of things that really only I knew were there. I loved it.
Opening night rolls around. I have the script down pat. I have the props and scenery. What do I need? An audience. It's February in Oklahoma. It. Is. Frigid outside. With the forecast being rainy, sleety, snowy, windy, and freezy, I don't know if anyone is coming. Quite a few showed up, so I was relieved. Lights up. I enter. I made it thought the first couple of pages of the script that was scrolling through my head. Then my first transition happened. My mind went blank. I took a drink of water and glance at the big cheat sheet that I had hidden behind the white board. AH! YES! I know exactly where I'm at. From that point on, I didn't need the cheat sheet. Not even once in all eight performances. The audiences were fairly small on the bitter wintery nights. When the weather let up a little, there were more people in the seats. Honestly, I was a little disappointed by the turnout, but I knew it wasn't because folks didn't want to come. I got so many messages of people that just couldn't get out because of the weather. I got to entertain the people that WERE able to get out, so I put my heart into every performance whether there was eight people or forty-eight.
I performed eight of the scheduled nine performance. The horrendous weather killed one of the nights. And a very strange thing occurred after the run was over, the entire world shut down because of Covid. Theatres, including ours, closed, some indefinitely, some for a time, and some permanently. If I hadn't agreed to move the shows up two months, I would probably never have had the opportunity to do "Underneath The Lintel". Sometimes, timing is everything.
I wasn't sure what to expect from doing a one-man show. It fulfilled that desire to be on stage by myself doing what I love to do. I couldn't blame anyone for something going wrong. I couldn't rely on anyone to get us through a scene. It was me who had to rely on me to get me through it. And it was exhausting. In my daily life, I don't speak very much. It's just not my nature. Talking for an hour and a half took a lot out of me. The emotions of the character took a lot out of me. The preparation and delivery took a lot out of me. That play checked off quite a few tick marks for me; solo performance, comedy, tragedy, crying on stage, laughing, using my own history as inspiration, and performing a great play. If I never acted again, I think I would be satisfied with my acting career. As the burn out wanes, I'm growing interested in performing again, whether it's theatre or music. I don't think I'll ever be completely sick of performing. At least I hope not.
Fast forward to January. I'm happily rehearsing in my house, casually still learning lines and gathering props when I can find the right one. Everything was moving along nicely...then, a phone call. Suzanne had selected a play for February that couldn't get off the ground. More problems than I care to talk about here, but it was bad. She said, "That play is postponed indefinitely. Would you be willing to move your performances up to February instead of April?" February? Fucking February? That's (January, February, March, April) That's TWO MONTHS EARLY!!! Like the pleaser that I am, I said, "Sure. I can do that" while utter panic seethed in my brain. This wasn't a casual stride to opening night. It was a chaotic sprint to opening night. I had just over four weeks until the curtain went up for the first crowd.
I read the play at least three times a day. I recorded it onto my phone so I could listen to it when I wasn't able to read it. I began diligently searching for props and set pieces. COSTUME! I forgot about the clothes that I would wear. What was I going to do with my appearance? Keep the beard? Shave the beard? Cut my hair? Leave it to become shaggy and unkempt? I thought it would be easier to let it all go ala Grizzly Adams. Turns out it looked good for the part of a manic librarian. I designed the set which looked like an old warehouse that was being repurposed for a slide show and presentation of my travels. Honestly, it all looked pretty good. Also, since I love finding Easter Eggs in films, you know, little hidden gems that only the filmmakers know about, I decided to include some Easter Eggs in the Scenery. I had something from every play that I had been in at Playmakers Theatre. A costume, a set piece, a crown, and a water bottle were a few of the dozens of things that really only I knew were there. I loved it.
Opening night rolls around. I have the script down pat. I have the props and scenery. What do I need? An audience. It's February in Oklahoma. It. Is. Frigid outside. With the forecast being rainy, sleety, snowy, windy, and freezy, I don't know if anyone is coming. Quite a few showed up, so I was relieved. Lights up. I enter. I made it thought the first couple of pages of the script that was scrolling through my head. Then my first transition happened. My mind went blank. I took a drink of water and glance at the big cheat sheet that I had hidden behind the white board. AH! YES! I know exactly where I'm at. From that point on, I didn't need the cheat sheet. Not even once in all eight performances. The audiences were fairly small on the bitter wintery nights. When the weather let up a little, there were more people in the seats. Honestly, I was a little disappointed by the turnout, but I knew it wasn't because folks didn't want to come. I got so many messages of people that just couldn't get out because of the weather. I got to entertain the people that WERE able to get out, so I put my heart into every performance whether there was eight people or forty-eight.
I performed eight of the scheduled nine performance. The horrendous weather killed one of the nights. And a very strange thing occurred after the run was over, the entire world shut down because of Covid. Theatres, including ours, closed, some indefinitely, some for a time, and some permanently. If I hadn't agreed to move the shows up two months, I would probably never have had the opportunity to do "Underneath The Lintel". Sometimes, timing is everything.
I wasn't sure what to expect from doing a one-man show. It fulfilled that desire to be on stage by myself doing what I love to do. I couldn't blame anyone for something going wrong. I couldn't rely on anyone to get us through a scene. It was me who had to rely on me to get me through it. And it was exhausting. In my daily life, I don't speak very much. It's just not my nature. Talking for an hour and a half took a lot out of me. The emotions of the character took a lot out of me. The preparation and delivery took a lot out of me. That play checked off quite a few tick marks for me; solo performance, comedy, tragedy, crying on stage, laughing, using my own history as inspiration, and performing a great play. If I never acted again, I think I would be satisfied with my acting career. As the burn out wanes, I'm growing interested in performing again, whether it's theatre or music. I don't think I'll ever be completely sick of performing. At least I hope not.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|