Silent night
I was never exactly a "fan" of Marcel Marceau; mime is an acquired taste and very easy to make boring, and yet Marceau brought such a grace and gentility to the art that you couldn't help but smile, or out-and-out laugh, or at the very least identify him with yourself. Regardless of any specific fanning for him, I did do all of these things to the recordings of his performances, and his passing struck me with a great deal of poignant sadness that wasn't entirely expected. I chalked it up to a sincere appreciation of an artist and my mild affection for all things French, until I realized, in reading a retrospective of his career, that his breakthrough came while playing Arlecchino - Harlequin - on stage, just as I have done. It shouldn't have surprised me.
It's certainly presumptuous of me to consider myself in his fraternity in anything related to acting, though I realize after the fact that I did borrow from Marceau, in a pale and imperfect way, in making Harlequin work. It was a fun, challenging, imaginative role, and I think there's still a bit of Harlequin lurking in the back of my mind, which has a tendency to come out and play at odd times...but not today. Because I think, in a way, we've lost a kinsman.
It's certainly presumptuous of me to consider myself in his fraternity in anything related to acting, though I realize after the fact that I did borrow from Marceau, in a pale and imperfect way, in making Harlequin work. It was a fun, challenging, imaginative role, and I think there's still a bit of Harlequin lurking in the back of my mind, which has a tendency to come out and play at odd times...but not today. Because I think, in a way, we've lost a kinsman.