(no subject)
I'm Method all the way, or at least as Method as you can be and still be normal and not, like, live in a sewer to prepare for roles - I try really, really hard to find all the possible ways I can connect with and understand the character(s) I'm playing, so she/they can be as truthful as possible.
But, wow, sometimes I'm really great at that and, wow, those scenes sure do start hitting really close to home.
I'm going to be a mess by the time this show goes up. We were off book tonight, weren't even going full-out since we were all fumbling to remember what we said next, and I had a really difficult time holding it together after the run. It just so happens that a lot of the questions that scare me are questions my character is also asking, and the answers she's getting are the answers of which I am most afraid. Add to that the fact that I am very close to the actor playing my husband and, well...it hurts. A lot. Looking at someone you care about and dealing with the fact that they don't love you the way you need them to, that you aren't the woman they need you to be, is hard once. But over and over again, every evening? It's excruciating.
My first instinct is to pull back, shut it all off. But I can't, because I need to show this to the audience - my character is easy to hate, and I need them to see her, to understand that she's human. I need them to see her feel things that are real so, even if they'll never love her like I do, they'll have a chance at understanding her. I don't have a frame of reference for the death of a child, so I can't give them real feelings there, but the death of dreams? I can give them that.
I think the hardest thing about this is that the person I would normally take this to, the actor playing my husband, is the one person I absolutely can't. They're missing some critical information about my personal life I'm not willing to share with them yet, for one, but more than that...this tension is painful, but it's going to make for really interesting theatre, I think.
If I make it to then.
But, wow, sometimes I'm really great at that and, wow, those scenes sure do start hitting really close to home.
I'm going to be a mess by the time this show goes up. We were off book tonight, weren't even going full-out since we were all fumbling to remember what we said next, and I had a really difficult time holding it together after the run. It just so happens that a lot of the questions that scare me are questions my character is also asking, and the answers she's getting are the answers of which I am most afraid. Add to that the fact that I am very close to the actor playing my husband and, well...it hurts. A lot. Looking at someone you care about and dealing with the fact that they don't love you the way you need them to, that you aren't the woman they need you to be, is hard once. But over and over again, every evening? It's excruciating.
My first instinct is to pull back, shut it all off. But I can't, because I need to show this to the audience - my character is easy to hate, and I need them to see her, to understand that she's human. I need them to see her feel things that are real so, even if they'll never love her like I do, they'll have a chance at understanding her. I don't have a frame of reference for the death of a child, so I can't give them real feelings there, but the death of dreams? I can give them that.
I think the hardest thing about this is that the person I would normally take this to, the actor playing my husband, is the one person I absolutely can't. They're missing some critical information about my personal life I'm not willing to share with them yet, for one, but more than that...this tension is painful, but it's going to make for really interesting theatre, I think.
If I make it to then.