Queen Mab visited me Thursday night, and she brought all the stress that I didn't think I was feeling about understudying. In my dream, I didn't know entire scenes, the stage was gigantic and Brendan was actually there, which was confusing because I went on for him. And I kept waking up from, only to fall back into another version of it. Actor nightmares are intense and exhausting! (Somebody should write a play about them). So, I didn't get much sleep as I prepared to take over Mercutio this weekend.
There is undoubtedly magic that happens in theatre. Like all real magic, it requires effort, energy, and ritual. And like all real magic, there is a cost. (The price I paid for appearing young, athletic, and sexy has been near bed rest for the last two days. But the price was worth it). Magic demands payment. Now, there are serendipitous moments of accidental magic, which don't take a toll, but what I'm really talking about is something intentional and astonishing!
I felt magic on Friday night playing Mercutio for one night only, and on closing night to boot. Closing nights are sacrosanct, and holy. They are the place magic most often occurs (at least for me). This particular closing night, I was wielding magic that was only partly my own, playing this character that Brendan had so beautifully crafted, but doing so from myself. I took the things of his performance that I could do authentically, but mixed in some things from my previous understanding of the character. I also had to come into a production which had grown together. An ensemble that had earned their relationships through rehearsal, performance and the trial of fire that is the SBTS tour. I would have been false and phony if I tried to be Brendan's Mercutio. Plus, being a generation older than the folks I was sharing a stage with would have felt super fake if I tried to completely copy him. So, I had to weave some of my own magic into the incantation, and create some new spell.
I didn't really talk to Brendan about his choices, because a magician never reveals his tricks, nor would a fellow practitioner be so gauche as to ask. But I watched him do it three times. (Three is a magic number--I know you may all be getting sick of the metaphor, but I'm trying to write about something that can't really be described in words, so bear with me). His Mercutio was passionate and powerful...in a word, mercurial. It was stunning to watch! What occurred to me as I watched him do Queen Mab was that he got lost in it in a very interesting way. It struck me that he had PTSD. This soldier had experienced the worst of war and dreamt about it nightly. I don't know if that's what he was playing, but that's what I took from it, and it was my key into the role as the way to fit into this world that Steph and the lovely cast had created. Now, I had played Mercutio as a soldier (as an idea) the last time I did it, but the specificity of being damaged in unseen ways was far from my consciousness back then. This one understanding of the text (sometimes called an actor choice--but I don't believe in choices, only deeper and better understanding) made it possible for me to play this character in this production. Because a Mercutio a generation older than those he hangs out with and holds court with is magical. It makes sense, it is authentic, and sad, and just works.
And with that knowledge, I went down a couple of hours early to rehearse with Steph, Melissa, Nathanial, and Mateo. They showed me where I needed to be and taught me the fight. (Fortunately, I'm a very good sword fighter and picked that up pretty quickly. Don't ask about the dancing though). These became the parameters of the spell. The rules that had to be followed. I knew I couldn't force some false relationship on Benvolio and Romeo, so we all agreed to allow this new thing simply to be what it would be. And they were so generous and kind! Since they knew the show so well, and so did I, we were also able to find things in the moment that hadn't existed in their production or my previous one either. Under any other circumstances than what we had, this could have been a disaster.
Being able to play this part one last time was a special gift for me, because it meant that my kids got to see me in it. It's such a dynamic and fun part to play, and they both confided in me how much they enjoyed seeing me play Mercutio. Hearing that from my oldest is about the most magical thing that I can think of. And being home in Pt. Fermin, in front of so many friends (and audience members that have been seeing me there for the last 20 years) was very special.
I'm glad I got to be a small part of the 25th season, as Borachio (on book), and then Mercutio (somehow magically). Theatre is magic when it is at its best, and Friday night was about as good as it gets.
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