Here's something you might be interested in.
Years ago, my brother Michael was an actor at the Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis (at left in the photo, as Lucky in Waiting for Godot).
When I told him Our Town was playing in San Diego, he recalled his first role: one of Thornton Wilder's dead people in Act three. They sit in chairs and stare forward. Some have lines. Michael didn't. On opening night, he felt a faint tickle in the back of his throat.
"I didn't think much of it, as I followed the ten other actors out from the wings. I swallowed some saliva to rinse my throat as stage lights rose around us slow as dawn. I'd be planted here for the next 20 minutes. Just sit peaceably dead. I had no idea I was in for the acting role of my life.
"The pesky stitch in my throat grabbed all my attention. I wanted to cough like crazy. Just reel back and honk it out of me. But the dead don't cough.
"And they don't teach deadpan spit-swallowing in acting class. This was ventriloquist work.
"There was no way I could hold out for an entire scene. But failure was not an option. I could already hear the director scorching me for destroying the 'tonal marrow' of the play. Not to mention Alana, the actress playing Emily, a nervous wreck backstage, her entire future riding on this scene. She'd bust into my dressing room and beat me to death with her blow dryer.
"So gear down. Steer the breath. Grind it out.
"I focused my eyes on a woman in the third row, staring right at me. Why the hell me, lady? All the action's moved stage left, where Emily's experiencing a day in her previous life.
"I stared back. Short-cropped hair and a big round face sporting a sly, Mona Lisa smile. I knew what she was up to. She was waiting to see me choke.
"Hold on, stay calm, and use it.
"Okay...the guy I'm playing? He died with unfinished business, and it haunts him. Yeah! He's holding onto something. A secret he promised never to tell. A vow of silence -- with her! The woman in row three.
"Yes! They were lovers once. You had a wild summer fling in Grover's Corners, and she's praying you keep your word and let the secret die with her.
"'Can you keep your promise?' she asks from the third row of the living.
"'Yes,' I sent the vibe back. 'Watch me.'
Before I knew it the house lights were up and the place was rocking with applause. I took my bow to the woman in the third row who, I'd discover at the opening-night party, was blind."
Years ago, my brother Michael was an actor at the Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis (at left in the photo, as Lucky in Waiting for Godot).
When I told him Our Town was playing in San Diego, he recalled his first role: one of Thornton Wilder's dead people in Act three. They sit in chairs and stare forward. Some have lines. Michael didn't. On opening night, he felt a faint tickle in the back of his throat.
"I didn't think much of it, as I followed the ten other actors out from the wings. I swallowed some saliva to rinse my throat as stage lights rose around us slow as dawn. I'd be planted here for the next 20 minutes. Just sit peaceably dead. I had no idea I was in for the acting role of my life.
"The pesky stitch in my throat grabbed all my attention. I wanted to cough like crazy. Just reel back and honk it out of me. But the dead don't cough.
"And they don't teach deadpan spit-swallowing in acting class. This was ventriloquist work.
"There was no way I could hold out for an entire scene. But failure was not an option. I could already hear the director scorching me for destroying the 'tonal marrow' of the play. Not to mention Alana, the actress playing Emily, a nervous wreck backstage, her entire future riding on this scene. She'd bust into my dressing room and beat me to death with her blow dryer.
"So gear down. Steer the breath. Grind it out.
"I focused my eyes on a woman in the third row, staring right at me. Why the hell me, lady? All the action's moved stage left, where Emily's experiencing a day in her previous life.
"I stared back. Short-cropped hair and a big round face sporting a sly, Mona Lisa smile. I knew what she was up to. She was waiting to see me choke.
"Hold on, stay calm, and use it.
"Okay...the guy I'm playing? He died with unfinished business, and it haunts him. Yeah! He's holding onto something. A secret he promised never to tell. A vow of silence -- with her! The woman in row three.
"Yes! They were lovers once. You had a wild summer fling in Grover's Corners, and she's praying you keep your word and let the secret die with her.
"'Can you keep your promise?' she asks from the third row of the living.
"'Yes,' I sent the vibe back. 'Watch me.'
Before I knew it the house lights were up and the place was rocking with applause. I took my bow to the woman in the third row who, I'd discover at the opening-night party, was blind."