I'm Not Alone

Actors with blogs are a dime a dozen. What I really appreciate about Broadway actor Aaron Lazar's blog is that he tells it like it is. As much as she hated The Light in the Piazza, my mother loved him. Well, she likes Broadway musicals fine. I don't know why she is more supportive than encouraging of my choice of career pursuits, even though she used to sing and act, and has a beautiful voice. She never pursued it professionally - she got into college at a very young age, and pretty much followed through on her own gifts. Given that those "gifts" led to a Masters' and a PhD on full (Ivy League) scholarship, she has also had to work extremely hard her entire life. I am very fortunate and thankful to have her for my mom.

Well, after she saw Piazza on PBS, she wouldn't stop leaving me messages along the lines of "Marry someone like Fabrizio." Although, she really appreciated that Forbidden Broadway sketch where "Fabrizio" describes himself as "a Jewish-American actor" with "a pidgin Italian accent," too. Well, that Food Network coverage of his wedding did a lot more to endear her to him (especially when he sang "Shiksa Goddess" to his wife), and any nice Jewish boy with a voice like that and a look like that is enough to compel her to give him a big, Manilow-sized hand.

See, this is a guy who is using his blog as a public service. He's covering pretty much every issue out there an aspiring actor should know of right down to the littlest detail. Smart dude.

And then? He posted this.

I never realized stage fright could actually be a medical diagnosis. This answers a lot of questions I've had recently...I have to look into this.

Because I've had it. I've been freakishly, unbelievably nervous in that when I'm called on to perform, I can't harness that energy to do it. I've had public moments where I freak out, and my nerves just break down. And this was all after I got a B.A. in Theatre Arts. I blame a lot of instances where I was told I wouldn't make it...and then some. But I've really come to this understanding - much like our good friend Mr. Lazar has - that I loved acting and singing when it was a hobby and no expectations were really attached: There was no possible way I could set myself up to fail, because I wasn't sabotaging myself. It's funny how now I can understand that, regardless of all of these interior and exterior factors, not only do I know I have that confidence to achieve, I realize I've had that all along.

I've been shy. I've been insecure. Sometimes, I've had to drag myself kicking and screaming onstage, but I do it out of love. This was why I took to improvisation and let it all out once in this no-holds-barred rant about - get this! - Why I Hate Musical Theatre. This was right after I moved to New York City, and when I was taking my Level 1 improv class. I couldn't get seen for any auditions, and the ones I could get were completely beyond my comprehension at the time. Anyway, my teacher gave me this look I will never forget, and said:

"You really love musical theatre, don't you?"

The whole room was silent. Then we all cracked up.

That was the lightbulb moment! Holy shit!

After all that, I earned some respect from my friends and peers, but I tried not to get a swelled head about it. I realized it was okay to be in this struggle together and to have interests, however embarrassing they may be, that somehow creep into what you're doing when you really love what you do...

Here's another positive thing I tend to flash back to - call it a selective memory, call it what you will, believe me, I've had plenty of bad experiences to go with the good - on my last day at the Neighborhood Playhouse, I was pretty much ready to throw in the towel and quit acting. I didn't want to go back to school and the dread of knowing I was going to be away from New York City and friends from a wide variety of backgrounds and knowledge. I wanted to stay with my friends and run around the city all summer, studying and absorbing that knowledge; at the same time, I had some downright miserable moments at the Playhouse where I would just scream and cry for help. Sure, it was Meisner technique: The only way to conquer your fears is to confront them, head-on. Have people yell at you constantly about how you're Not Going To Make It; stand on top of a stool; go out and make a scene and curse at everyone. It's a strange, strange method that is oddly beneficial, because it taps into our basest subconscious, psychological needs. At the same time, you kind of wish Meisner was a little more lighthearted in his approach to the craft of acting. Throw in a tap break or something along the way.

I had a friend in the program who was a student in the Musical Theatre program at the University of Michigan, and we both knew some of the faculty members and mutual friends from my theatre group back home. I think he was the only person who had heard me sing, albeit very roughly, because we would run out in the street and do two-person versions of numbers from My Favorite Year and The Producers on the way back to housing. Meanwhile, back in class, I was not taken with the scene I was assigned, from the classic play Stage Door, and yearned to make it more comedic than it actually was. I would stammer, but, otherwise, I had trouble playing a brunette "character" broad who was bitter, sarcastic and discouraging, something I really felt back then.

On the last day of class, our Meisner teacher wanted us to do the scenes with the roles reversed. So, I thought it would be hilarious to make her the typical musical theatre blonde in a pretty pink dress. I studied various blonde ingenues via different musical theatre CDs I checked out from the school library, and surprised everyone by being funny and fully committing to something I knew I was never, ever going to play in real life. At the end of the sketch, I sang. And everyone gave me a standing ovation. I couldn't believe it. I was singing without abandon. I never told anyone in the program, not even my friend, that I was a singer. The other kids approached me all day after that and told me I should really go for it, that I have a talent.

I had heard that in college, too, but it was from professors - the students would get ultra-competitive when they were gunning for roles come audition time. I would get intimidated, also, because I was going up against not only incredibly smart and talented people, but former child stars and rich, well-connected kids from performing arts schools in big cities: Real professionals. I really didn't have any favorite roles there. I was never cast in any leads, unless they needed an older woman in a Chekhov play to be melodramatically hysterical. It was making me happy, to be on stage. I guess I've always had that love, but I need to be able to look past the crap I've put up with a focus on the present. Love what I do. Or at least get back to loving it and being fully committed in that love.

Musical improv was merely the catalyst. It's combined the two things that come naturally to me, and yet, seem exceedingly difficult to allow to come naturally from me. But it was really the breakthrough: I realized I could do it. By confronting my fears head-on, I've finally learned how to cure them. Imagine that!

I'd also recommend Aaron's post re: Liberal Arts vs. Conservatory. He's done both and has an overwhelmingly spot-on perspective on the two. To that, I say, "Right on!"

And? Aaron Lazar = a Broadway star only a mother could love