Why do we do it?
Occasionally, or often, we pause to ask ourselves why we continue to carry on as actors. Sometimes it seems that we just seem to be doing it to satisfy our self centered desires or to fulfill some dream or goal we have set for ourselves in the “business.”
Too often it feels like we are just spinning our wheels and we may wonder if we are making any difference at all to the people who pay to see what we do. Fortunately, I have heard a few reflections from theater patrons in my career as an actor that have surprised me and made me realize that what we do often has amazing powers of healing and restoration. I’d like to share a few of those moments.
Recently, during the run of Shear Madness the cast received an email from a patron whose father had recently passed away quite suddenly from cancer. “My mother asked me to join her in my father’s place which I took as a great honour. While arriving at the theatre was very emotional for my mother and me, we both knew that my dad would want us to see this last show. For the moment we sat down to the house lights coming up at the end we were laughing non-stop. My father would have thoroughly enjoyed this production and remembered every joke you and the rest of the cast members told (he had that talent!). So this is to thank you for allowing my mother and I to laugh for the first time in weeks…thank you for getting us to smile at a joke again.”
A few years ago, I was part of a production that told of the horrors of the war in Bosnia. One of the storylines was about a woman who had been raped and impregnated by an enemy soldier. She vowed that when she gave birth to “the monster child” growing in her she would kill it. But, of course, when the child arrived, in a very moving scene, she realized her child’s innocence and vowed to keep it and love it as much as her other children.
The play was a success and we closed feeling satisfied that we had shared with our audience an important story about hate and war in a foreign land. A month or two later I met a woman who recognized me as a cast member of “that play about Bosnia.”
In her European accent she informed me that “that play changed my life.”
“Oh,” I replied, “Are you from Bosnia?” She then proceeded to tell me of her mother, a German actress, whose career aspirations were cut short when she became pregnant with her. Her mother always resented her for being the cause of her failed dreams and consequently their mother/daughter relationship was strained and unhealthy. After seeing the aforementioned scene at the end of our play she had to be helped to the parking lot sobbing relentlessly. The scene had somehow struck a deep chord with her. She subsequently phoned her mother for the first time in a long time and they arrived at some kind of reconciliation. She told me that she now carries her mother’s picture in her wallet for the first time “thanks to your play.” It was a good lesson in not making assumptions about the ways in which the stories we tell affect our audience.
A few years earlier, I was appearing in a production of “GUYS AND DOLLS” at Stage West with the beloved Georgie Collins. One of the last (if not the very last) times she appeared in a role on stage. It was a fun show but I’m sure most of us considered it a fluffy confection of no real consequence or impact. Well, early one Sunday morning over breakfast Georgie told us that she had received a call from an elderly friend that morning, expressing her gratitude for our performance the previous evening. “Oh, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” said Georgie. “No,’ the lady replied “you don’t understand. It’s much more than that. I have been very unwell for the last six months. So unwell that I couldn’t leave my apartment. My family got me to come out to see your show last night and it was so enjoyable and made me so happy that today I feel better than I have felt in many months. Please thank the cast for me.” Our fluffy little confection, it seems, had a therapeutic effect. The lesson: Never underestimate the power of joy and laughter.
I always try to remember these stories and use them to inspire myself to stay honest and committed, particularly during those times when the work might seem inconsequential and pointless.
-David LeReaney, May 2007
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