Bloody Live Theater

I am in two shows right now. One, My Fair Lady, though it doesn't actually have the word bloody has more of a likely tone to it for that word. But when I say bloody in the title of this blog, I don't mean the swear word in the land of the Britons. I mean blood. Actual blood.

It went like this. I was in a scene in the other show I'm in, A Roof Overhead. Somehow I stabbed my chin with my thumbnail. My chin hurt a little and I put my hand on it. I took it back and there was blood all over my hand. I looked at Randy King, who plays my husband Max and said, "I'm bleeding." I'd like to think I was in character. My daughter Naomi, played by Penny Pendleton, was supposed to come onstage. I yelled, "Naomi, will you bring me some Kleenex? I'm bleeding."

I don't really remember all that happened, but interspersed in the discussion of my bleeding, which seemed to stubbornly go on and on, in spite of me pressing paper towels, dry and wet, onto the wound, and me holding a piece of the paper on the wound for a while, we did get through the scene. But it went like this:

• play dialogue
• comment about bleeding, by me or someone else(?)
• play dialogue
• Penny putting water on a piece of paper towel and dabbing my chin
• play dialogue
• me making a comment about how I was still bleeding
• me looking at my hands and seeing they were pretty much covered in blood
• play dialogue, which was a rather intense scene where I get mad at Max, all the while holding the paper towel to my chin, impeding any natural-looking movement as I storm around the stage
• play dialogue
• stage kiss

 As I came offstage, I was swooped upon by the stage manager Cameron (bless him) who was ready with some kind of swab. The man who is in charge of tech (bless him, too) had a first aid kit and supplied me with a little round band-aid. As I took the paper towel off, I noticed that #1 the wound was an actual cut, north to south on my chin, and #2 for some reason it was also a big round wound the size of a quarter. How did this happen? I don't recall ever cutting my face with a nail, and certainly not the stubbiest thumb nail a person could have.

I admit, the next few scenes, I wanted to keep touching the band-aid. It took a certain amount of concentration to leave it alone.

I was so overwhelmed with the ickiness of this whole thing, I kept talking about it backstage with anyone who'd listen. I apologized over and over. I probably sounded like a prima donna (one of my big fears--that I'll sound like one, or actually BE one) but I was, I admit, pretty freaked out. I worried that I'd still have that stupid band aid on at the end of the play, which is supposed to be about 18+ months later.

The two things I worried about most did not happen, and for this I am grateful. One was that the bloody (pun!) thing wouldn't ever stop bleeding, but by intermission, it was in remission and I patted some powder on it and you couldn't even see it. (I was a little freaked that I'd put powder on and it would bleed again and made some kind of icky mud made from blood and powder. Is this too graphic? Too bad. It's my blog.) The other thing I worried about was that we actors all would be overwhelmed with the possible comedy of this and remark about it throughout the play. Thankfully, that didn't happen.

Backstage I texted a few friends and took a photo of me with the lovely band-aid on my chin. That's one photo I need to definitely put in my portfolio. Not!

My friend Cynthia came to the show and told me later that she was at first a little surprised by it all and wondered if this happened every night. She asked me, "You don't bleed every night, do you?" This leads me to believe that somehow, we carried off this rather unfortunate problem with some semblance of believability. I also am profoundly grateful that I have become friends with Penny enough that we really could be mother and daughter and it was very normal to have her doctoring me onstage. I didn't feel awkward. Well, not awkward about her fixing my chin anyway.

I had made a vow of no more ad libbing. Then I had a bloody disaster. How can you have something like this happen and not just deal with it? Answer: ad lib all over the bloody place.

Question: Should I wear gloves onstage tomorrow? I have a matinee and and evening performance! I don't have that much chin left!



Keep Playing! And keep a first aid kit handy!

"A Roof Overhead" musings

The run for my show isn't over yet, but the lessons I've learned are piling at my feet, so I'm writing now.
I was asked to be in a show--I didn't have to audition. The play was written by someone who has some notoriety in Utah, so I accepted the part.
I was still in another play, a madcap comedy that was a true delight. "A Roof Overhead" (ARO) can only be described as a tragedy in the most Shakespearean sense. So I was in both ends of the spectrum for a while.
"Backstage" ended, and I mourned its loss. At the same time, I started a new job, so went straight from the new job to rehearsals for ARO. I got home around 10:30. This is when the anxiety began.
My son recorded my lines, and this saved me. I've never had so many lines to learn.
The show has had three performances. I have received very complimentary reviews for my performance, which includes sobbing through the last two scenes. It is hard. Very hard. I go home weak, spent, and fragile.
Lessons I've learned:
1. I am much happier as a comedic actress.
2. I am not nor will I ever be one of the cool kids.
3. Good directors give you help with character development, as my director has done with this show.
4. God must want me to truly understand 59-year-old men with ADD, as my director/husband in the show and my husband in real life are just this. What I'm supposed to be learning about this, I have no idea. And I wish to heck I'd hurry up and learn it. Just sayin'.
5. I can cry on demand when it deals with the death of a child. RIP Nathan Phillip Kelly
6. My friend/director Adam C. is a lifesaver.
7. I am not concerned when I know there is a reviewer at the show. (This is a good thing to find out.)
8. There has been a point in this process where I truly had to turn it over to the Drama gods and do my best and let the rest go. This has been very difficult.
9. Sadly, my abandonment issues have run into my involvement with this play in a way I never thought I'd experience. More personal development work. (sigh)
10. I like having the lead.

There are more lessons learned, but those are for another time, and some may be only spoken to dear friends and not written in a blog. I learned my lesson about blogs that are read by people who shouldn't read them. Or in other words, blogs that I shouldn't actually publish!

As I approach the last three performances, I can say that this has been a strong, valuable experience. My director asked me the other night if I was having fun. The answer is no. I realize that not all plays will be fun. But I told him what I've been doing in this play has been important. I like that word: important. I'm going to be okay with that.

Keep Playing! Always...

"Backstage" Closing

I became a comedic actress in my last show. I was given the opportunity to ad lib at will, playing against the director of the show who also played David the Director in the show. He and I played so well together, that even though I'm already in rehearsal for another show, I'm feeling lost. It wasn't even just the character I played. It wasn't even just the great cast I worked with. It was who I got to be as a performer that I miss. I'm afraid I won't be able to be her again.
I'm feeling panicked.
There's talk we'll do this show every year. I hope this is true.

Keep Playing! And Laughing!