This wasn’t my first gig, more like my second. And the experience didn’t stop me…it scarred me, but only emotionally…so what else is new? But there I was, waiting in the wings, wearing an ill-fitting Austrian delivery boy outfit with one of those gendarme hats, a satchel full of letters and resting on an antique bicycle. In forty minutes time I would be a Nazi. In seventy minutes time I would be instrumental in allowing the Von Trapp family to escape over the plywood Austrian Alps. It’s The Sound of Music. I’m playing Rolf Gruber. I was Rolf Gruber. And I was awful.
The character is an idealistic seventeen year old Austrian going on eighteen, possibly looking for some guidance in his life, a father figure perhaps. He’s in love with Liesel, or at least in lust, well, seventeen year old 1940s Austrian lust, which usually amounts to a peck on the mouth and a lot of blushing. I was 22, slightly overweight with dark brown hair, not the typical Rolf: athletic type with Aryan blond locks. Austrian shmaustrian. My Rolf spoke with a British accent.
As is always the case with any amateur theatrical endeavour, auditioning and casting is 50% talent and 50% desperation. I was the only male who auditioned who was under the age of 25. Therefore, I got the part. It made me feel a little better to know the girl playing the sixteen year old Liesel was actually 24 years old, but only a little better.
Never has one man been so uncomfortable or ill-suited to a role.
I could sing at least, like a bird…well, a bird with nasal congestion, do birds even have a nasal area to get congested? I couldn’t dance, but apparently dancing was not required for this role. Just a few awkward gestures during the romantic duet and then an awkward dance at the party at the Von Trapps. Usually Rolf wouldn’t be at that party, but due to the lack of a male contingent in this company, Rolf went to that party. In fact, there were only two men at that party who didn’t live at the Von Trapp manse and only two men who danced the awkward stupid dance…with five ladies.
I somehow convinced myself that I was doing a knockout job. That I was actually convincing. That my character development from naïve young lad to a Nazi cad and the heartbreaking Sophie’s Choice in the final minutes would touch and move even the stoniest of hearts. Alas, I sucked. My stilted movement, my upper class British accent, my complete lack of ability to register with the character all combined for pure theatrical magic.
When the reviews came out I scanned the paragraphs to catch the words ‘James’, ‘Antonas’, ‘white hot ball of talent’, but to no avail. Nary a word was written about the podgy Nazi. I was devastated. I was consoled by the empty words of the cast confirming how good I actually was, but I knew the truth and faced the cold reality…maybe I wasn’t meant to be on the stage?
But hindsight is a beautiful thing. It slowly dawned on me that yes, I was not that good as Rolf. But maybe it was Rolf that was not too good for me. The importance of the actor fitting the role and vice versa suddenly hit me. And it was only my first role since high school! What did I expect from someone who had no training and never took drama! In fact, considering these obstacles I was pretty damn impressed with my own efforts. There was a slew of roles that probably did fit me and like a glove I’m sure! No Stage Door Johnnie will I be! The roar of the greasepaint and all that crap. This was where I belong. This was just a learning curve. A lesson that life throws at you to kick you in the vitals to see if you’ll stand up and ask for more. I would ask for more. I would demand more! Nothing could stop me now! I was on my way…my next role was a Russian student revolutionary in Fiddler on the Roof…oy vey…I never learn.
The character is an idealistic seventeen year old Austrian going on eighteen, possibly looking for some guidance in his life, a father figure perhaps. He’s in love with Liesel, or at least in lust, well, seventeen year old 1940s Austrian lust, which usually amounts to a peck on the mouth and a lot of blushing. I was 22, slightly overweight with dark brown hair, not the typical Rolf: athletic type with Aryan blond locks. Austrian shmaustrian. My Rolf spoke with a British accent.
As is always the case with any amateur theatrical endeavour, auditioning and casting is 50% talent and 50% desperation. I was the only male who auditioned who was under the age of 25. Therefore, I got the part. It made me feel a little better to know the girl playing the sixteen year old Liesel was actually 24 years old, but only a little better.
Never has one man been so uncomfortable or ill-suited to a role.
I could sing at least, like a bird…well, a bird with nasal congestion, do birds even have a nasal area to get congested? I couldn’t dance, but apparently dancing was not required for this role. Just a few awkward gestures during the romantic duet and then an awkward dance at the party at the Von Trapps. Usually Rolf wouldn’t be at that party, but due to the lack of a male contingent in this company, Rolf went to that party. In fact, there were only two men at that party who didn’t live at the Von Trapp manse and only two men who danced the awkward stupid dance…with five ladies.
I somehow convinced myself that I was doing a knockout job. That I was actually convincing. That my character development from naïve young lad to a Nazi cad and the heartbreaking Sophie’s Choice in the final minutes would touch and move even the stoniest of hearts. Alas, I sucked. My stilted movement, my upper class British accent, my complete lack of ability to register with the character all combined for pure theatrical magic.
When the reviews came out I scanned the paragraphs to catch the words ‘James’, ‘Antonas’, ‘white hot ball of talent’, but to no avail. Nary a word was written about the podgy Nazi. I was devastated. I was consoled by the empty words of the cast confirming how good I actually was, but I knew the truth and faced the cold reality…maybe I wasn’t meant to be on the stage?
But hindsight is a beautiful thing. It slowly dawned on me that yes, I was not that good as Rolf. But maybe it was Rolf that was not too good for me. The importance of the actor fitting the role and vice versa suddenly hit me. And it was only my first role since high school! What did I expect from someone who had no training and never took drama! In fact, considering these obstacles I was pretty damn impressed with my own efforts. There was a slew of roles that probably did fit me and like a glove I’m sure! No Stage Door Johnnie will I be! The roar of the greasepaint and all that crap. This was where I belong. This was just a learning curve. A lesson that life throws at you to kick you in the vitals to see if you’ll stand up and ask for more. I would ask for more. I would demand more! Nothing could stop me now! I was on my way…my next role was a Russian student revolutionary in Fiddler on the Roof…oy vey…I never learn.
Like a glove - a slightly overweight glove...with grey eyebrows and too much blush...I was quite the whorish Rolf.
4 comments:
weren't Camelot & The Boyfriend before this... & iolanthe?
Write another post already. I'm bored.
And don't drop the smarties!!!
OMG. I'm so sick of this recycled piece of writing being at the top of your blog.
Stop being lazy and write something.
NOW!!!!!
nice comments.
nice.
real nice.
what the hell's going on ?
why no more posts
I will have to start my own blog pretty soon if you don't get to it!
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