8539/21458
Obvs, my life is mainly rehearsals at the moment. I am not saying that I am the best actor in the world, but I am bringing some emotion to the part. I feel so sorry for the character of Frank, who has been trapped in his office at the University for his whole life, getting drunk, dating at least one student (she's a tutor here now, he protests) and failing to become a poet. Then Rita comes along and he is briefly enlivened by her uniqueness, but he has to change her into the exam passing student she wants to be and in the end (spoiler alert) she outgrows him and he loses more or less everything. It's a funny play, but it's a fucking tragedy.
As the relationship between the two turns nasty (inevitably - Frank warns Rita and himself about what will happen, but the warning is ignored) there are some arguments. I don't know if I am being Frank or myself at this point (hopefully it's Frank as that's the job I am doing), but it really chokes me up (and much of that has to do with the intensity and chops of the brilliant Anna Morris who plays Rita) and I have found myself (or himself) fighting back tears.
I don't know if I am the point where I can cry on demand which is generally seen as the Oscar winning zenith of all acting achievement. But surely fighting back tears is the greater achievement. That's double acting. You're acting crying and not crying at the same time. Try and do that Laurence Olivier. You can't can you.
Anyway, I was mildly embarrassed to have reached such emotional heights during a run and so tried to snap out of it for the next scene by humming a little tune to myself and larking around, which the director compared to
the resignation of David Cameron.
I probably won't do that on the night. Maybe I need to iron stuff like that out if I am going to be taken serious as a thespian.
