On November 10-14, 2010, I had the joy of being cast in David Brottell and Jessie Jones’ Southern Baptist family comedy “Dearly Departed”, directed by Geoffrey Kershner. While we—the cast and crew—worked on the show for at least 5-6 weeks, the real test and fun were the actual performances and their audiences.
Show 1 (Nov. 10): “In the Beginning…”
This was probably one of the most risky performances, at least to me. It was the first real audience we had and we weren’t all that sure how many people would come out on a Wednesday night, and what they would find funny, where/how long they’d laugh, etc. I felt happy when we were told that most of the center section was full. It was way more people than I was expecting. However, I was kind of taken back by that night’s lack of laughter. It wasn’t that they didn’t laugh; it wasn’t that they didn’t think we were funny. They just didn’t seem to be laughing as much or as loud or even when I felt they should. For instance, my character Lucille’s scene with a very pregnant and quirky character Nadine, I thought, was a very funny scene. In fact, it was one of those scenes that, in rehearsal, I had to work really hard not to break character and laugh at her/us. The audience was dead to us. They barely even laughed. Even though we as a cast were warned of this happening, Bridgett (Nadine) and I still felt like chopped liver as we walked laugh-less into the wings after our performance. It made us feel like, “What did we do wrong? We did everything the way we usually do it, so what ‘didn’t’ we do right?”
Show 2 (Nov. 11): “LOL”
I went into the second performance feeling like, if I could handle last night’s audience, I can handle tonight’s. To my surprise, not only were there a bit more people, but they were very lively. They burst and giggled at everything both planned and not planned to be funny. They were just a happy group. It made me feel better as a performer. Though every performance is different, it’s still nice to get affirmation that you did something right. I honestly think Thursday night was our best night. We as a cast were “on it” and the audience gave off a great amount of energy. It just felt right.
Show 3 (Nov. 12): “TGIF”
We were packed out. Friday night felt by far the best-filled performance. However, that night’s audience felt like a middle ground between the silently amused first audience and the boisterously entertained second audience. It was like a lukewarm. Not hot, not cold, okay, but not exactly comfortable. Plus, I have to admit, I knew a huge chunk of my family was in the audience that night. So, I was both on the cocky “last night’s performance rocked” ride and the “oh, my, gosh; my family’s out there” nervous mobile. Overall, it was a good show. We got enough reaction from the audience to feel good, but enough lack to keep us trying to make them laugh some more.
Show 4 (Nov. 13): “Paulie, Wanna Cracker?”
This was known as judge night. Even though we all knew they technically weren’t “judges”, that they were “responders”, everyone was wide eyed and determined to do our best for the KCACTF people. On top of that, I knew my high school theatre teacher was in the audience. It was like, “No pressure guys. This is just the one that counts.” “Discussing” their “opinions” of our show alone could be a whole other blog entry. Honestly, I hated that night. Not only was I nervous about hearing their response, then I couldn’t even see the people after the performance because the KCACTF people were there, then—in my opinion—they didn’t even “get” our performance. It was very disheartening. While I heard audience members discussing the character Delightful and her foods, the scene with the brothers Junior and Ray, and even Nadine/Pastor Hooker; I can honestly say after all five performances, only from the KCACTF people did I hear anyone questioning the motivations and the “stakes” of Veda offering Raynelle a cracker. Just saying…
Show 5 (Nov. 14): “Byyyyyyyyye!!!!”
After four performances at night, it took so much effort to have energy for an afternoon performance. The audience itself was—as expected—a lot of older people. This made them a very similar—in reaction—to the Friday (maybe even the Wednesday) night audience. Plus, it was very sad, at least for me. This was our last show. “The last hurray” as a cast. It was easy to joke about being over it, and being ready to move on, and “get some sleep”, but…deep down it was rather melancholy. I don’t think the audience was aware of this underlying understanding, but as I watched all the wooden stereotypical backdrop pictures get put into storage, as the wigs were taken downstairs, the dressing rooms and stage were stripped clean of all memory of our little comedy, I felt the hole in your heart you get when you know something’s over, and you know you’re going to miss it. Like Raynelle says, you’re not happy or sad, you’re more like glad. Glad you were a part of it.
It was fun. The audience definitely impacts the direction of the mood of the performance. You could feel it even before it was your turn on stage how your scene was going to play out. Then again, sometimes there’s no way to know what’s going to happen. For instance, Sam (Delightful) had the audience in stitches, literally having them roar with laughter when her spray cheese can exploded the dairy mush all over her face on opening night. Then there was Judson’s (Ray’s) “wedding ring” flying off, my (Lucille’s) white bracelet flinging off my arm, skipped lines, flubbed lines, the cross for the Joy of Life Singers almost crashing to the ground. Then there are the connections we formed as a cast. You could come to every show, but if you weren’t in the show, you just wouldn’t understand all the little things. It’s special. It’s what makes you come back and want to be a part of another show. It’s that hole you feel when the show’s over. It’s the empty space in you schedule the next day. It’s cheese cans, beans, days-old corndogs, casket brochures that never seem to be ready on time. It’s tangled wigs, painted on age, practiced combat. There’s just nothing like being in a live show. You’d have to be in one to understand.
