The first straight play (non-musical) I
did in college was Arthur Miller’s A View
from the Bridge. That was the semester I was supposed to be taking a break
from theater to focus on my studies. I only went to the audition to help out as
a reader. And because I had nothing to lose I gave it my all and I got cast in
lead. And so it was a wonderful surprise when my then director and former professor
recently invited me to see a matinée performance of the new Broadway production
of the show at The Lyceum Theater.
Hitherto forgotten lines of dialogue
transported me back to the Baruch College Studio Theater and I could see and
hear my fellow cast mates doing them; people I hadn’t thought of in years
sprang to mind so clearly my heart warmed and ached with the memory of them. I
could hear the choices they made on how to deliver a particular line and how
the professional actors on stage now made some similar but mostly different
ones; giving the words new meaning. I wondered how many other former
Catherines, Beas, and Eddies were also in the audience.
My “Rodolpho” was played by one of the
most beautiful, sweet, and captivating men I have ever known. Still. I ran into
him years ago at the old Barnes & Noble in Chelsea. Looking into his eyes
still gave me butterflies. (I might have converted for that man. Mazaltov, I
tell ya!) On opening night, his mother – a gracious woman – made it a point to
come over introduce herself to my Mom & Dad, the “parents of the bride.” If
only.
I was 19 years old when I did A View from the Bridge. I’m sure I
thought I understood it. But the adult me was newly astounded by the complexity
of the characters, and each actor’s ability to advocate for them so
fiercely. I suppose that’s the beauty of
Arthur Miller. I am only slightly embarrassed by the naïveté of my teenage
self; only slightly because innocence is a luxury one is lucky to have. (Yes,
sometimes I miss it.)
Theatre is not my first love but it’s in
my top five; onstage and off. I absolutely adore performing, but seeing a great
play? That. That is pure joy. Unfortunately, the most important thing missing from
this outing was the woman who’d invited me in the first place. She mixed up the
dates on her calendar but insisted I go on without her and enjoy it for the
both of us. I am sad and glad I did.
It reminded me how grateful I am to my
parents for exposing me to theatre at such a young age. For believing a
three-year old could sit quietly on her Daddy’s lap and be transfixed for 90
minutes, minus an intermission. I believe those words, performances, and experiences
shaped and guided my life as a writer, performer, and human being. It’s given me an amazing view of the world.
The Urban Erma, the longest running column on StageTimeMagazine.com, was created and written by stand-up comedian Leighann Lord. Listen to the podcast on iTunes and Stitcher Radio. Get her e-books on AMAZON!
No comments:
Post a Comment