The inconvenient actor

I'm afraid that I'm a rather inconvenient actor. I have a tendency to think in director mode, which means that I tend to challenge things that ruffle my theatrical instincts.

Right now I’m working on a piece with Theatre of Silence (無言天地劇團). As the only hearing actress in a hearing-impaired ensemble, I’ve had to come up with a number of creative ways to make myself heard. When my rudimentary sign language fails me, I’ll bring in video clips or resort to e-mailing the directors. Sometimes we have a translator, but for the most part I’m on my own.

Sometimes I question: am I overstepping my boundaries as an actor ?
In the heat of creation, I wonder: Should I just shut up and do? Why am I bothering to fight for this?

The answer is really: because I can’t bear to see shoddy work. If we’re going to bring this on tour to the UK and Brazil, it even becomes an ethical issue. If we’re going to burn fossil fuels to fly this piece there, I have a responsibility (more than ever) to make this piece worth seeing.

Thankfully, the directors and ensemble have been patient and open to ideas from this rather vocal actress. It’s been a wonderful experience working with this group. There is so much laughter in rehearsals.

As we near production week, I notice myself turning off my director’s mind in order to commit to my job as an actor. There’s a delicious sense of freedom in doing this. (Actually, I need to do this. Acting isn’t something that comes naturally to me, and I realize that I’m pretty bad at unison work. I am the only goldfish whose thumbs are sticking out; or the wing in the airplane that is not flapping properly.)

By committing my work as an actor, something new happens. I’m suddenly aware of how I can transform the piece from the inside. I am no longer divided. I trust in the power of the ensemble.

Theatre creation has to be all or nothing.