Dear Carol,
Thank you. I have been having some very good times indeed -- small part,
local theater and all. Last night I came home from our final dress
rehearsal feeling completely satisfied and happy. Mostly because in my
"big" solo number I really just let it rip and sought joy like crazy. I
felt great, and even the director noticed. As you have often said, there is
nothing like the energy release from singing full out on stage. It's such a
wonderful feeling. (I also sing as part of a trio a very moving ballad in
close harmony, that just feels so great to get inside, match voices and
syllables perfectly, and let the emotions out, and nothing else exists for a
few minutes.) And when I breathe, I do good, creative, full work,
even though most of those breaths are listening breaths, and even though
most of the cast has a lot more and more impressive theater credits than I,
and even though the director has not had much to say to the actors about how
to shape their performances. Tonight, opening night, I had this wonderful
feeling
as I came out for my first entrance that we've had enough rehearsals, that I
basically know when my entrances are, what my lines are, what my notes and
rhythms are, what props I need to carry on, what my blocking is -- and now I
can let go of thinking about all those things and just breathe, follow my
impulses, and see what happens tonight. Of course, I was breathing during
rehearsals, too, but there was a lot to memorize (not words, so much -- but
all the other things), and I felt the pressure of not wanting to get any
of that stuff wrong in front of a company of actors, whom mostly seem very
well-trained and experienced in doing things "right" the first time through.
The cast and directors seem to be enjoying my work, so it's great to get the
confirmation again, in a "real-world" situation, that working with breath
and joy does produce work that "real-world" people like. Somewhere in my
mind I imagine that everyone else in the cast has notebooks full of
character history, and script analysis, beat-by-beat objectives, and god
knows what all else, and that I am out there naked, unprepared, just making
it up as I go along. And so I feel somehow amateurish, undisciplined,
unprepared. But of course, a good performance does appear naked,
unprepared, making it up as it goes along. So those are probably very good
feelings to have. Anyway, off to bed. The babies wake up at 7:00 whatever
time I go to sleep.
By the way, I would love to come back to class on Thursday mornings,
starting, most likely, on the 16th. Is there room in the class?
Love, Michael Henry