About fifteen years ago I stepped way outside my comfort zone: I auditioned for a lead role in a community theater play.
Up to that point my acting career consisted of having been the main character in an elementary school Christmas play. The big moment for me as a fifth-grader occurred in the final scene; I was kissed on the cheek by sixth-grader Stevie Peters. I believe I blushed for hours. Yes, I know; how scandalous. But it was the early sixties and boy/girl interactions were much different then.
So as far as credentials, I didn’t have much to offer when I showed up at the audition for the two-character play Love Letters by A.R. Gurney.
That’s right…there are just two characters, and the entire play consists of them reading aloud the cards and letters that have passed between them over a fifty year period. Andrew and Melissa were childhood friends. The friendship, veering romantically at times, stayed the course even though distance mostly separated them. They marry others, and Andy moves up the ladder of success while Melissa turns to alcohol and is estranged from her family.
So I figured, how hard could this be? I have a good reading voice, I didn’t need to memorize any of my lines, there was no singing involved, and the concept intrigued me.
There wasn’t much competition as just four women showed up at the audition. I was the last to read. As I went to center stage, I was handed one of the love letters and began. I thought my reading went pretty well.
I stood waiting for the director’s reaction. He looked up from his notes and said, “You have an interesting voice.”
You know how sometimes thoughts just fly into your brain? I immediately thought of the old Andy Griffith comedy show where the Sheriff was trying to fix up Deputy Barney Fife with a girl. Barney asked, “Is she pretty, Andy?” There was a long pause and then Andy said, “She’s nice. She’s real nice.”
Hmm….so what did the director mean by his word choice of interesting?
He said, “I think you would be a fantastic Melissa.”
And then he asked me a question he hadn’t asked any of the other women. “Would you be comfortable saying the F-word as part of the performance?”
I looked at him. “Excuse me?”
The director went on to explain that the play was not all sweetness and light; there was some ugliness and yes, Melissa drops the F-bomb.
Now, I was no longer a blushing ten-year-old girl. I was a grown woman in her 50s. And trying to justify answering YES to his question in order to get the part, the quick argument went like this in my head: Anyone who sees my performance and hears my words will know it was the CHARACTER’s word choice, not mine. Right? Right?? Really, how big of a deal would it be?
But I shook my head no. Because I knew regardless of whatever justification I might be able to come up with, I would not be comfortable using that language, pretend or not.
The director shrugged and told me he hoped I’d try out for another role someday.
An actual husband and wife team who had been on vacation at audition time landed the Love Letters roles. The director called to tell me the news and again encouraged me to consider auditioning for a future play. But I never did.
Real life is more interesting. And I don’t have to swear.
To my readers: Do you have an interesting stage experience to share?
