1776 was all I'd hoped it would be. I got to wear a red wig. I got flowers. I've been told many times afterward that I did a splendid job (even that adjective was used by one theatre patron). Apparently, it was good theatre. Who knew?

It will be my last appearance on the stage, though, at least at Hanes Theatre. No matter how much anyone pressures me for The Secret Garden in the spring, I will resist. I believe I've listed my reasons for that below.

Original Document

November 21

It is done. It is done. 1776's run has come to a successful finish. It was glorious. And I did enjoy being an actor. However, I still prefer to tech for these things. Certainly, being part of a collaborative art is a feeling like no other, but I get the same high, believe it or not, as a technician. And as a technician, I don't have to deal with:

1. Makeup
2. Costumes
3. Hair gel
4. Actors (for the most part)
5. Making gestures and facial expressions only to be told they need to be bigger and better

And let's face facts: it's a lot easier to feel cool when you're running around with a headset in black clothing than it is when you are dressed in tights and lace.

And so this play ends with a resolution that I probably won't keep:

Resolved: that Stephen is a techie, and shall never again assume the role of an actor in any theatrical production heretofore presented in Hanes Theatre at Chapel Hill High School.

The play itself was very effective. I heard feedback that ran the gamut of possible feedback: I heard that it was the first CHHS play in a long time that was clearly a high school production, and I heard that it was top-notch, on the same level with the other plays of recent years. Everyone who talked to me had good things to say about my performance, but many of them would have liked me to use my arms more, just like Sorrells would.

And actors can be quite annoying at times, but some of them are incredibly fun to work with. I enjoyed working with Travis Smith a great deal, and my only regret about my resolution not to act again is that I will never again be able to hang out with Travis on stage.

November 9

I have come to the conclusion that I am not a good actor. Now, this is nothing new to me; it is one of the reasons that I planned not to audition for this play. I am remarkably stiff when I get on a stage. My facial expressions all look the same, I slouch, and I don't use my arms. Simply speaking, I say my lines (occasionally with some feeling) and sing my songs on a stage. Compared with others, I look dead.

It's funny, though, because in my own mind I'm being ridiculously expressive. In my own mind I'm mastering the subtleties of facial expression and vocal nuance. It doesn't, however, carry those thirty feet to the first row of audience seating. Sorrells keeps saying "bigger, broader, more energy," but I honestly feel like I'm giving him all I've got. And I know it's not enough, evaluating myself objectively. I look like a stick walking around on that stage. But I just don't know what to do.

An example: there's this song, "The Egg," right? Basically what happens in the song is Adams and Franklin try to convince me that the Declaration I've just written is worth something. Then we all devise an elaborate metaphor comparing the infant nation of America to some sort of bird egg. Thinking critically, I asked myself "what would be (as Jefferson) my emotions during this song?" I came up with nothing. Sure, I'm being modest at the beginning, but how does one act modest if not by being unassuming, and wasn't unassuming what Sorrells was trying to get me not to be earlier? Later, then, when we're going on about the egg and its shell and the perpetually hot congressional chamber being an incubator, what the hell am I feeling? Do I just wave my arms around expressively? That seems (to me) to be what the other singers are doing, but it feels wrong. Were I the playwright, I would have omitted the song completely.

Also: when John Adams sings to me about his own "sexual combustibility" (his words), what's my opinion on that? I've been trying to play it a little embarassed, but I don't know what to do.

And so I feel like I'm failing miserably at this whole thing.

November 2

Rehearsals for 1776 are getting a little bit more continuous now. Instead of working on a scene or two at a time, we're trying to go through the play continuously. This is giving the actors a better sense of the play as a unified whole, but it makes for agonizing rehearsals, especially when your character isn't in the action for entire large scenes. I can't imagine portraying one of the female characters; Abigail is in three scenes and Martha is in precisely one.

At today's rehearsal, we ran scene 4 for the first time. Anyone familiar with the play and Jefferson's character knows that in scene 4, Thomas and Martha Jefferson "kiss -- and kiss -- and will continue kissing throughout the remainder of the scene." For countless reasons, this is incredibly awkward. Eventually, it won't be that big a deal, but neither of us is that enthusiastic about it right now. It would be different if this was a brief peck, but it's a sustained kiss. I feel terrible about the whole issue.

And on top of those troubles, John Kerry has just lost the presidential election.

October 27

Progress continues on 1776. My character plays the violin, so I am learning the rudiments of violin technique. It's apparently really hard to hold the bow properly. I never knew it was that hard. The music is going well, except that the actor who plays Jefferson is supposed to be a tenor and is supposed to have a range that extends a couple of whole steps above the top of my own. That won't happen, though, and I'm the best thing they've got. But I wimp out on the high notes all the time. It's not a good thing. But it will get better. I'm going to work with Nabors on it. Sometime. Everyone else is doing just spectacularly, and I'm proud of them. It's me I worry about.

The set is starting to get going. We have a design for it, and it's going to go into action gradually. The new guys are new at using the screwdriver, but they'll get the hang of things. Everything is falling into place nicely. If props starts going, we'll be solid on Tech.

I'm going to go ahead and put a nice little publicity thing here at the top of the page, because it will soon be time to start buying tickets to see the show, and I might not be able to update this before then.

October 2

It is true. I am once more an actor. After swearing to myself at the conclusion of The Pirates of Penzance that I would never again seek to act in a play of any kind, I have reversed completely. I will play the role of Thomas Jefferson in the musical 1776. Thomas Jefferson is not a gigantic role in this play, but it is much bigger than that of a policeman in The Pirates of Penzance. For example, I have lines (albeit a few; Jefferson was one of the quietest people in the Continental Congress), and I have solo songs. That's right, I have places where I sing all by myself.

The convention through which I got this part was somewhat odd. After I decided not to audition for the play at all, the auditions went on as scheduled, without me. Someone was cast as Thomas Jefferson, someone who was not me. Then, however, something odd happened. For whatever reason (I haven't investigated it further) the person cast to play Thomas Jefferson dropped the role after only a few rehearsals. An emergency re-audition was called during lunch on Friday, and four individuals showed up for it. I was one due to a variety of factors.

1. David Sorrells. This man knows how to get what he wants. He came to me during my tech theatre internship and gave me a copy of the audition contract, asking me to please consider auditioning.
2. My own screwed-up brain. I got to thinking. Was it fate, perhaps? Could it have been meant to happen? Did, perhaps, Sorrells plot beforehand with the original Jefferson to get me to do it? (This last I don't really believe, but it's interesting to think about.) Whatever it was, it got me thinking. Why was it that I didn't want to audition in the first place? That was easy enough: it was a twofold reason.
• The actual process of auditioning. I am afraid of this. I don't like memorizing a monologue, I don't want to perform a monologue in front of people, and I don't like being judged, by whatever standard, on my aptitude for a part. The most terrifying part of any play, for an actor, is the audition phase, and in the past, it has been just slightly too terrifying for me.
• The experience of being in a play. This is where I start splitting hairs. It is true that I did not particularly enjoy acting in The Pirates of Penzance. However, that experience may have been tainted by several show-specific factors.
1. I was a policeman. All of we policemen had an inferiority complex because we weren't quite as good as the pirates. We were only in the second act, and we were there primarily for comic relief.
2. It was The Pirates of Penzance. As a play, I'm not thrilled with it. It was about very little, and it carried no underlying thematic elements. I mean, it was Gilbert and Sullivan, for God's sake. What is there in that but slapstick?
These factors inevitably had something to do with my dislike for the show.
In 1776, however, several things are different:
3. When I auditioned, I was guaranteed that if I got in, I would be Thomas Jefferson. There is no chorus in this play, and I know that Jefferson is no bit part. This eliminated my fear of getting relegated to a minor (and largely unsatisfying) role.
4. The play carries a message, something which I respect in a play and which was lacking in The Pirates of Penzance. By showing the behind-the-scenes struggles of these founding fathers, the play allows us to accept them as human beings and respect all the more the contribution they made to our budding nation.
5. Since it was an emergency audition, a monologue was neither required nor really expected. None of the four of us had one, and we just read from the school newspaper.

   And so, for these reasons, I found myself in the audition chamber at 1:00 on Friday. We did all the usual audition things, and we were told that the new information would be posted by the end of the school day. Two hours later, the decision was made, and it was evidently me.

   And so now I embark upon a completely different kind of adventure. Acting. In more than a chorus role. Of course, I'm completely scared of the whole thing. Come November 20, there will be at least 500 or 600 people looking at me and listening to me. That's pressure.

   However, I'm far more excited that I am frightened. I'm sure it will be a good experience. Indeed, The Pirates of Penzance was a good experience. I learned a great deal about the working of an actor's mind, since my mind was almost forced into that configuration.

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   Last updated 07.27.2007
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   All material copyright © 2007 Stephen Rintoul. Some rights reserved.