Donna Lucia's Final Appearance

February 27, 2000

This was our second and last week for the performance of Charley's Aunt. I wanted the excitement of that first week to go on and on and on, but each performance was totally different; the audiences and ourselves. I had four days off before our next performance. Within that time I rested my voice and returned to my real life, working on jobs, straightening a neglected home and but still craving to get back to the stage and cast. By Wednesday I knew I definitely had a cold and sore throat coming on, but I didn't panic. I reviewed my lines again on Thursday morning and the scenes seemed to be still milling around in my mind.

We had our routine. It didn't really take that much time to get into costume, but we also knew we had to get our energy up, and into the mood. That's part of prepping as well. The stage lights go up at 8p.m., but we were usually in the dressing room by 6p.m., 6:30 at the latest.

Our lives had changed during our time off. The intensity had shifted, bonds had to be rebuilt, and our personal lives shaded our feelings and characters. A personal trauma for one person, affected the rest. Unlike a family where you could separate yourself in another room, this was a working unit and we had a job to do--together.

Thursday night was a good performance, not my best, but solid. A spark seemed to be missing, but the audience was appreciative. Not a full house, but a darn good one. We were selling out for Friday and Saturday, word was going around this was a fun play.

By Friday they had added another whole section of seats. We were going to play to a packed house. Because of all the extra people the body heat set the temperature on stage soaring. It was probably comfortable for the audience, but they weren't standing under those banks of lights. Our leading man came back stage with sweat was pouring off his face. The audience was responding well, but the tension backstage was palatable. For the first time I began looking forward to the end of the run. An irritability was creeping in, cast members bringing disappointments from their personal lives back stage. The audience sees a play on the stage. There is another drama that happens backstage. I've rarely experienced anything like the excitement, tension and intensity that happens behind the curtains. There is a tremendous energy; sexual, ego, electrifying, bruising energy that boils back there. A dropped line or disappointing scene is all expressed instantly after passing the curtain. The intense disgust with oneself is released, but also the incredible joy of pulling off a really good line or scene. What a thrill!!! The actors express some of it backstage. Imagine the emotional excitement being released back there. It can be overwhelming at times. Although I was enjoying it immensely, I could see an end to the life of this play.

On Friday the audience was filled with friends, and members of the cast of my last play. I really wanted to do well, but I was starting to lose my voice. My head was in a fog with a nasty cold. Since I have to wait the entire first act and part of the second to go on I had no chance to try out my voice first. I was either going to hit the stage with my voice booming or a cracking screech would be my opening line. The heat was oppressive on stage and the tension was rising back stage. Temper flared, words were slung, the director wanted more energy and people were already spilling their guts out. This was work, hard work. I tried my voice a bit and there was nothing. I panicked. I heard one of the cast members ask the director what we would do if I really had lost my voice. "I'll grab a script and get out there and read." No way. One way or another I was going out there and croak out my lines. A couple of quick spray of the throat anesthetic and I was out the door, striding toward my entrance.

It went well, not great, but more than adequate. Because I had so many friends in the audience the tension was greater for me because I did want to do well. It was a disappointment to me that I couldn't give full range to my voice, my energy wasn't quite as high, but I was still having fun. There were a couple of miss cues, but I quickly picked up and went on with my lines, stumbling a bit. For the first time there were a couple of awkward moments in which I felt like we were indeed community theatre. Up till then I thought we had a pretty professional looking performance. I was extremely pleased with the ending and we received a great ovation. I was swamped with friends after the curtain call, not having enough time to talk with them all. I was the very last one out of the dressing room and off to a local restaurant to meet friends. As opposed to the first week, when it took hours to wind down, this week I was exhausted and sick. I couldn't wait to get to bed. Acting is hard work!

Last night was our last performance, we were closing the show, and I was looking forward to it. I'm such a sap, I cry at the slightest and silliest things. I figured I'd be a sucker for it this time. I tried not to think it was my last performance and just put the same intensity into it that I had been giving all along. This performance was as important as the rest and I concentrated on the moment. I had a full blown cold, my voice had dropped tremendously in pitch, but I wasn't nervous or tense at all. I was just going to take advantage of my new deep voice. It was a sassy sexy Donna Lucia last night and the audience loved it. It was a great performance. I really enjoyed myself, but I looked forward to the close of this run.

This play stole a little bit of my heart. I learned so much, and put so much of myself into it that I couldn't help but be affected by it. I met people who pushed me to do more than I thought I could and I succeeded. I put myself aside and became another person, taking a bit of myself, adding it, blending it with the character to come up with a rich personality that I think I did a good job of projecting. I really liked the character, but was glad she wasn't the real me. Clyde was very unhappy about my costume, but I finally realized it was because it made me look so much older, a matron, not his perky Suzanne. I'm glad to be back to myself, but I reveled in the performance and persona I created.

The last performance was incredible. It flowed; it had a good strong pace. Instead of waiting and working to get through the different scenes, it flowed strong and quickly. The two hours, which seemed like four in dress rehearsal, now seemed to float by in less time than imaginable. It was the last time I would be giving this performance. I didn't play it up more or give less, but enjoyed each line, each movement. The finality of the play was sad but enjoyable. I looked out and enjoyed the final applause as I bowed and when the house lights came up a tremendous relief flooded over me.

It had been seven week since our first rehearsal. I lived an entire life in that time. The performing arts are so much different from the visual arts. When I do a work of art it's there for all to see and exists for as long as it holds together. The life span of the performing arts is for the moment only. The performance existed only at the time it was given, to that particular audience sitting only a few feet away from us, with the particular nuance of that performance. It existed only then and is over.

We not only brought a play to life, but we all lived another life, the backstage life. Friendships were formed, loves made and lost, dislikes heightened, frustration, jealousy, joy, relief and drama. The intensity and life that is given to put on a play is incredible. It's a play within the play. I learned much, but I lost a bit of my heart to it. This experience, this play will never be repeated. However there is a certain relief in knowing that it is an entity. The beginning, the work and struggle to create, and the performance, the result, and ending. What a feeling of accomplishment, but much joy and pain are produced putting together a play. Yes, I'm sad and finally crying. I've always taken chances in my life. I figure if you don't get out there and try for something, take a chance, you'll never gain. Sure you might fall on your face, or get hurt, but isn't a life of boredom much more depressing in the end? I put myself out there, I auditioned for the role I wanted, I got, I worked hard creating it, I learned, I gave, I took chances, I fell short at times and got hurt when I did. All this gives me more insight when I see another dilemma coming along the next time.

They're striking the set today, putting up the chairs and warehousing the set pieces. However I'm home with this nasty cold. I have to rest, get better, and try to relax. Why? Next Tuesday I'm auditioning for "Moon Over Buffalo". I hope my voice is back in full throat by then. I'm trying out for Charlotte, the lead, but I would also like the role of Rosalind her daughter. Different lives. Will I get one? Will I live another six weeks throwing myself into these characters? I hope so. If not I know about another audition coming up. Yep, I'm hooked. The clapping and cheers from those curtain calls were wonderful, but the part I really loved was the oohs, ahhh, sighs, laughs and chuckles during the performance itself. I was part of a cast that brought those characters to life and brought the audience into another world, if just for an evening. What an incredible thrill. It's the essence of life, the intensity that makes living worthwhile. Yes, I'll be back.

Yours with Kleenex,
Suzanne & Cassis (She's mine for now!)

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