Feb 17-18, 2005
What's the hardest part of being an understudy? Is it learning the lines of three players, the notes of three players, the moves and dance steps of three players? That those three players get to bond with each other while you don't? That they get the glory, the laughs, the introductions and the interaction while you remain virtually anonymous? No. All these things can be easily handled with discipline and a checked ego. What is cruelest is that no one says anything directly to you. You have to lean in with your ears tweaked and pay 110% attention in order for the stage directions to register, while taking notes as best you can, then watch the scene play out and fill in the blanks. And you have to stay out of the way. It's necessary to practice moves nearby and the directors like to see that you're working it, but you also have to master the art of being invisible while you're at it. And silent. This is particularly difficult for my loudmouth self, who's used to speaking my mind frequently, so in addition to practicing everything else I also practice shutting up. It's all I can do to keep from climbing behind the drum kit when the drummer's gone, but I resist. It is not time.
But enough about what I have to or cannot do, here's what I can do. When musical questions arise, I come in real handy. Lars Goransson said, "you know they're gonna be asking you how all the songs go," and he was right, by God. My firm grip on the musical and historical details allows me to answer questions when Don can't, and the cast is beginning to trust me with that. And I get to lend my vibe, which I've been working on for years and continue to maintain. It's the best thing that I can offer this production and one of the main reasons I have this job. If the details and the vibe enhance the show's overall quality, that alone speaks more words to me than any individual on earth.