When I began this journey about 5 months ago I was massively excited to be a part of an AMAZING opportunity to fulfill a lifelong dream. It's been one of the hardest, most painful, yet most satisfying things I've done with my music to date. I won't lie, the people in TMS are amazing, and talented, and sometimes REALLY difficult to deal with. I've been disheartened, and hurt, and offended, yet at this moment I'm on the cusp of it all being worth it.
Reflecting back on this experience got me thinking....why is it that we, as musical theatre actors, singers, stage management, producers, directors, musical directors, conductors, musicians, etc etc do this CRAZY thing that we do? What is it that drives us to pour ourselves out on to a stage that in the cold light of day is nothing but fake sets, smoke and lights??
The obvious answer is because we all have massive egos - and I'll be the first to admit that on one level that's true!!! We like the applause, we get a rush out of having people say how great we are. I think anyone whose honest will admit that they like being praised - we all do. I would also definitely say that as a kid and as a teen this was my drug of choice - the rush that came with being recognised for something that is unique, something that other people cannot do, something people WISH they could do - it was the only thing I had. I was an average student, I hated sport with a passion and I was about as uncoordinated as you can possibly get! I hung on to two weeks of the year when the Eisteddfod afforded me a decent degree of notoriety at school - I would bring in the certificates I'd gotten and feel special. I certainly didn't feel special at home that's for sure.
But I'm not at school anymore. There's no one I need to prove myself to. I'm in a job where I'm being recognised for the work that I do, for my organisation skills and for my efficiency. I am generally accepted in my workplace, and in my social circles, and if I never did another show no one would think any less of me. So the ego thing isn't entirely my motivation anymore.
So what is?
And for that matter, what is ANYONE'S motivation? The reality is that there are a LOT of people who don't get to take a bow at the end of the show - stage crew, lighting crew, pyro technicians, runners, costume people, the orchestra - all these people who remain just names in a programme. Even for me, in six months time its highly unlikely that anyone in this town will even remember I was ever in the show in the first place. I've hung in there despite the difficulties, despite even my own husband telling me to quit, despite even a torn ligament in my ankle that makes the 70 odd stairs between the dressing room and the stage incredibly frustrating and painful. I'm literally putting my physical self, my sweat, my energy, my time, my rec leave - everything - on the line.
I think the truth goes deeper than public approval. I look around at this mad, looney, exhausted, spent group of people who turn up every night during this gruelling week of tech rehearsals, their fatigued faces and bodies reflecting my own, and the truth dawned on me that perhaps the reason we do it is because we respect it. We all hold the belief that we can suspend the cruel, cold reality of this world for a couple of hours and create something out of nothing. We believe that what we do matters. We believe in beauty, in truth, in honesty, and we believe in the material so much that we'll pour ourselves out to make that material come alive for someone else.
And most of all, we want to make someone else believe in it too.
I'll never forget September 11, 2001. On that day I was at college, studying music at USQ and had rehearsals for an opera we were doing. We all turned up for rehearals our minds thousands of miles away in New York, when our director, the incomparable Harry Coghill, stood up and made an amazing speech about how what we were doing in the four walls of the theatre would resonate and radiate out into a world that desperately needs escape, and beauty, and purity. That speech has never left me and it reminds me in that moment when I'm standing backstage, listening to the overture, my heart soaring at the familiar music, that what I do on that stage over the next few weeks matters for no other reason than because it's who I am.
Until next time!
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