Confessions of a G-List Actress: The Ghost of Performances Past
Here I am. I find myself in this awe inspiring moment. There is dim light and the small of week old saw dust and dry paint. I can hear hushes and perhaps a gentle chord in the darkness. I am, for the first time in months, exactly where I am meant to be.
My heart is racing and I can feel the excitement in my throat. I swallow it hard and try to contain my utter elation. I breath calmly for my pulse to be racing. No fear, no anger, no sadness.
My first step is sure and the following are quick. I can feel the boards holding me up as I pad gently a few paces and stop. There's the excitement again. I stifle a joyous tear and turn off my smile.
I can hear a click and hum in the distance and there is a warm glow that spreads at rapid pace to everyone. To others, it the blink of an eye, but to me it's agonizingly wondrous ages. It starts at my face, the warmth, and spreads gently across my face. It hits my shoulders, my fingers, my toes. I can feel each particle and atom flooding my person. It's kind. It's radiant. For me, it's perfect.
Vibrations and sound. Everything is vibrations and sound. The vibrations have colors that warp the world around me. I can feel the air warming in my lungs and the words take on life and burst forth like all those sugary sweet syrups of childhood. There is beauty and ugliness and I am it all.
It's over. Too soon I think. Two weeks and I can't remember how I said what I said. Was I brilliant? I honestly don't know. It was all a wash of love and joy. Back to the cold reality. It's more bitter than I realized.
I never remember what I say on stage. It's like an out of body experience. I can remember the emotion. I know what I felt. But I have no idea what came out of my mouth.
Oh I know my lines. I know everyone's lines. I know everyone's lines and I know how I am going to fix the situation if you lose your lines, or the lights go down. It's the same for film. I know everyone's lines by heart. I know your intention, your goal, your through line.
I may not know you well, but I know your character. I know them as well as I know myself. You are my best friend. You are my lover. You are my husband. You are my child. You mean everything. You mean nothing. *I simplify but you get the idea.*
I have seen video of myself and scoffed. "I can do so much better. Why did I make that choice?" But it was the choice I made at the time. No idea why. It literally came out of my mouth.
I live for these moments, because, to me, it's the time I feel most myself. It is the time I am most relaxed, most sure. I am the best version of myself when I am this someone. I don't dare say someone else, because you learn, as an actor, to be every version of yourself. When I am this Lilly, who has another name, I am the best version of myself.
Bows and praise are so brief. Less than a moment. I don't live for that. I could as easily amuse one as one hundred people. I appreciate the applause and admiration. Actors can't help but love it. Those people who watch keep us employed. I wouldn't dare call them fanatics. They don't just come to watch me. Or perhaps they do. But even so, they too are all those things the people on stage are.
The audience has life and love and emotions. I live for the days when someone cries because I cry, or laughs at me when I should be laughing at myself. For a few glorious hours, or even a few glorious minutes I get to connect with people. And no matter how fine that line is, that connection to another human being is worth all the money I have ever made as an actor and all the money I have made waiting tables.
For me, the story and the emotion involved are the drive. The hours of adrenaline and the rush are intoxicating. The need to collapse from exhaustion is grand. I have stepped off stage trembling with adrenaline and anger. I have to drink it in. It's amazing. If not to put so much of yourself into this that you become exhausted, why bother? I have stepped offstage shaking. I have finished a scene and felt emotionally drained. It is SO AMAZERING! *Yes I just made up the word amazering because scrumtrelescent was already used* Does anyone else know how completely absurd and totally astounding the few quick moments we get to perform in our life are? How precious is that?!
If I have to work on a project for any time and get invested I cry on the last day. Not publicly or in any silly way, but I get so overwhelmed by the fact that for those few precious moments I was allowed to do this that it overwhelms me with happiness and sadness and loss and gain and everything and I will burst into tears in a private moment. Heck, when Boeing Boeing was over in the middle of our post show final dinner a few tears dropped into my lap. I may never see these people again and they have become such an important part of this character that will always be a little part of me.
So here's a toast to all those little bits of me that keep nagging away and are just waiting for their moment to escape. I know most people don't get it. But to me it's like fresh air after a year in the city. Just feels good in the lungs.
My first step is sure and the following are quick. I can feel the boards holding me up as I pad gently a few paces and stop. There's the excitement again. I stifle a joyous tear and turn off my smile.
I can hear a click and hum in the distance and there is a warm glow that spreads at rapid pace to everyone. To others, it the blink of an eye, but to me it's agonizingly wondrous ages. It starts at my face, the warmth, and spreads gently across my face. It hits my shoulders, my fingers, my toes. I can feel each particle and atom flooding my person. It's kind. It's radiant. For me, it's perfect.
Vibrations and sound. Everything is vibrations and sound. The vibrations have colors that warp the world around me. I can feel the air warming in my lungs and the words take on life and burst forth like all those sugary sweet syrups of childhood. There is beauty and ugliness and I am it all.
It's over. Too soon I think. Two weeks and I can't remember how I said what I said. Was I brilliant? I honestly don't know. It was all a wash of love and joy. Back to the cold reality. It's more bitter than I realized.
I never remember what I say on stage. It's like an out of body experience. I can remember the emotion. I know what I felt. But I have no idea what came out of my mouth.
Oh I know my lines. I know everyone's lines. I know everyone's lines and I know how I am going to fix the situation if you lose your lines, or the lights go down. It's the same for film. I know everyone's lines by heart. I know your intention, your goal, your through line.
I may not know you well, but I know your character. I know them as well as I know myself. You are my best friend. You are my lover. You are my husband. You are my child. You mean everything. You mean nothing. *I simplify but you get the idea.*
I have seen video of myself and scoffed. "I can do so much better. Why did I make that choice?" But it was the choice I made at the time. No idea why. It literally came out of my mouth.
I live for these moments, because, to me, it's the time I feel most myself. It is the time I am most relaxed, most sure. I am the best version of myself when I am this someone. I don't dare say someone else, because you learn, as an actor, to be every version of yourself. When I am this Lilly, who has another name, I am the best version of myself.
Bows and praise are so brief. Less than a moment. I don't live for that. I could as easily amuse one as one hundred people. I appreciate the applause and admiration. Actors can't help but love it. Those people who watch keep us employed. I wouldn't dare call them fanatics. They don't just come to watch me. Or perhaps they do. But even so, they too are all those things the people on stage are.
The audience has life and love and emotions. I live for the days when someone cries because I cry, or laughs at me when I should be laughing at myself. For a few glorious hours, or even a few glorious minutes I get to connect with people. And no matter how fine that line is, that connection to another human being is worth all the money I have ever made as an actor and all the money I have made waiting tables.
For me, the story and the emotion involved are the drive. The hours of adrenaline and the rush are intoxicating. The need to collapse from exhaustion is grand. I have stepped off stage trembling with adrenaline and anger. I have to drink it in. It's amazing. If not to put so much of yourself into this that you become exhausted, why bother? I have stepped offstage shaking. I have finished a scene and felt emotionally drained. It is SO AMAZERING! *Yes I just made up the word amazering because scrumtrelescent was already used* Does anyone else know how completely absurd and totally astounding the few quick moments we get to perform in our life are? How precious is that?!
If I have to work on a project for any time and get invested I cry on the last day. Not publicly or in any silly way, but I get so overwhelmed by the fact that for those few precious moments I was allowed to do this that it overwhelms me with happiness and sadness and loss and gain and everything and I will burst into tears in a private moment. Heck, when Boeing Boeing was over in the middle of our post show final dinner a few tears dropped into my lap. I may never see these people again and they have become such an important part of this character that will always be a little part of me.
So here's a toast to all those little bits of me that keep nagging away and are just waiting for their moment to escape. I know most people don't get it. But to me it's like fresh air after a year in the city. Just feels good in the lungs.
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