The monkey made me do it

On Stage

I've been watching "Napoleon Dynamite" almost daily since I bought it last week, and realizing that most of its allure for me (besides the apparently endless humor I find in his dramatic exhalations) is realizing that my high school experience wasn't all that far off from Napoleon's. I drew obsessively, with slightly more advanced shading than his but still the subjects weren't much better. I had a series of dresses that I designed with poufs and ruffles and models in dramatic poses holding flowers. I drew pegasuses (pegasi?) and unicorns and dragons. I dressed haphazardly, in styles ranging from hammer pants to capris with headbands. I wore stonewashed jeans.

But the biggest flashback comes when I see him decide to take the stage and singlehandedly save the day with his amazing dance movez. For some bizarre reason, when I entered high school and finally started to come out of my shyness, the first self-chosen step to my transformation was to immediately jump on stage and act. I had done church musicals in my past, but I still remember that my first audition (for Oklahoma!) had me almost wetting myself in fear. I convinced a friend of mine to come out and sing with me so my voice didn't stand out as much. Obviously, I didn't get the part - who would cast an actor who was afraid to be noticed?. But did I let my natural avoidance of the spotlight and fear of overt attention stop me? Good Lord I wish I had. I was finally cast the next year in a bit part for a musical called "Carnival" as a siamese twin. My twin was one of the school's cheerleaders, a good 3-4 inches taller than me and a completely different body type (I had at least 2 cup sizes on her). The only possible similarity was that our hair was both blonde, and eyes blue. We were connected by velcro, and embarrassment. Still, I had fun with the other actors and remember the carnie training fondly. We learned how to swallow fire, juggle (a little), ride a unicycle, and handle a 10-foot python named Khan. For those wanting to know how one handles a 10-foot python, the trick is to find where he/she pees out of (not as easy as it sounds) and avoid that area at all costs. Snake pee is one of the most disgusting liquids you will ever encounter in your life.

Another role was as Balin the Dwarf in our production of "The Hobbit". Yes, a tiny aged MALE mythical creature. I had a beard made of blue yarn and pillows that attempted to make me portly. We drew thick lines where we approximated wrinkles should be, and the other 10 or so high school girls cross-dressing with me all worked together to try and make our voices sound as deep as possible. I remember specifically one school assembly that we did as a preview to the show. I was rushing to the table along with my fellow dwarfettes and my friend Annemarie and I tried to sit on the same bench with our over-amplified behinds. I slipped in before she could get purchase, and unwillingly bumped her sideways off the bench and sprawled her on the floor with a very unmanly "eeep!". Her yarn wig slipped almost completely off, and we had to duck behind some fellow performers to realign her disguise (luckily that part was easy, as we were all padded out to elephantine proportions).

The next dramatic turn was one that signified the beginning of a troubling batch of possible typecasting in which I got three separate roles that were defined as "Crazy Mother". The high school one was a woman in "The Curious Savage" who imagined a rag doll was her lost son, and was perhaps the worst acting I have ever done. I didn't "get" the role at all, and lost many of the intended jokes with my confused delivery. I get chills thinking about one line that was supposed to cap a madcap scene and draw huge laughs. It was "Parcheesi! The Royal Game of India!". Come to think of it, I still don't get it. Every show I dreaded the moments leading up to the line, and no matter how I said it, NOBODY laughed. It was eerie. "Parcheesi" in itself is a funny word, deserving of at the very least a courtesy laugh from the old biddies that laughed at every OTHER unfunny moment. Yes I'm still bitter. Mostly because I spray painted my hair with white frost crap that didn't wash off for 3 shampoos and didn't even get a friggin' chuckle with my friggin' abstract board game humor.

Crazy Mother #2 was the Mom in "True West", another performance that I should have never gotten into. The only difficulty in that part (besides once again drawing wrinkles and spray frosting my hair) was that my sons were fellow actors in the program and the younger in particular was quite handsome. It's hard to yell at a boy you find attractive, no matter how many eyeliner wrinkles you try to hide underneath.

Crazy Mother #3 I turned down once I realized that was the role description. A girl's gotta draw a line somewhere, and I wasn't quite sure if they saw the beginnings of a crazy mother in me already or were trying to force my personality in that direction. Theatrical conspiracy, totally.

I also performed as:

"Grumpy Old Woman" in our theater club's pep assembly based off of Saturday Night Live. That one actually worked out pretty well, thanks to the practice at playing old people I'd had in previous plays.

"Announcer Voice" in a couple different skits in college. Thanks to radio training, I can out-smarm just about everybody. Plus this is the kind of acting I can do - OFFstage, in another room entirely.

"Smokey The Bear" and "Sparky The Fire Dog" in various parades in southwest WA. This was unfortunately part of the job when firefighting, and wearing those smelly, stuffy, sized-for-6'0"-men, costumes was a challenge. I stepped on at least a couple of kids while trying to manuever in my oversized bear/dog feet and widely spaced eye holes, and almost passed out during the Winlock Egg Days parade when the temperature got over 90 and my strategically placed ice packs had all melted. Still, that was some good actin' - again hiding from everyone, not being allowed to speak this time, and with the only required activity being a semi-manly wave and nod.

posted by LadyJay @ 11:54 AM