Fear and Theatre Don’t Mix

Well, my intention was to start my post by sarcastically praising men’s superior laziness because I’d been the last one to blog, but Aaron just ruined that. To top it all off, what he said in his post made it hard for me to be even remotely sardonic. The truth is that I’ve wanted to write about different things over the past few days, but no point has really materialized in my mind. Then again, I know that I won’t suddenly have some genial revelation if I just sit on these ideas. So, here’s my attempt…

theatre forces us to be honest and uninhibited: both rare, and at times unwelcome, qualities to have in "the real world".

It appears that the topic that I keep coming back to is shame. Mark talks a lot about fear, and well, isn’t shame just a form of fear? People are ashamed because they fear others’ disapproval and inability to understand whatever it is they keep hidden. Sadly, I think that pain is something our society is generally afraid and – worse yet – ashamed of. Boys don’t cry, right? Sure, that stance may not be as prevalent nowadays, but it’s still present. We also seem to have an expiry date for pain. There is a point when people figure you’ve grieved enough,  but if you weren’t done, you begin to get the added bonus of being ashamed of it.

I’ve read Buddhist literature about accepting suffering as something intrinsic in life, instead of fearing it, but it’s probably one of the hardest things to do. I think actors require this same openness when they create a character; and I have to say: I have a deep respect for anyone who can embrace emotions so freely.  Most – if not every – rehearsal has left me affected in some way, and I essentially just take notes! Don’t get me wrong;  I know my work is important. I just appreciate what delving into the mind and body of another person must do to the self – especially in this case. I’m just looking into the pool, but to try swimming in it…that takes serious courage. Fear is not an option.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that theatre forces us to be honest and uninhibited: both rare, and at times unwelcome, qualities to have in “the real world”. For an art form that aims to deceive its audience, I think that theatre is the most sincere of them all. It is intensely liberating. Although I’d been in love with it a long time, I know that what actually made me dive headfirst into it was feeling unbearable pain. Theatre was the one remedy that not only didn’t feel self-destructive, but actually felt productive! There was no shame in it. So, I’m content with my addiction. Most of the time I can’t believe stage management is a “job”. All I can do once I’m calling the show is hope that the people who come see it really see it, because that connection is truly powerful.

Now for the plug: “Addicted” is a brutally honest and a fantastically told story. Working on it has been a very personal, closely knit process, which I believe is making it a very strong and pretty phenomenal piece of theatre. For anyone who values honesty and isn’t afraid of mirrors (figuratively speaking), come see it!