Near the beginning of Sweeney Todd, the title character performs one of his signature songs of the show, “My Friends.” The song is a true testimony to Sondheim’s creative genius. Who else is capable of writing what is, in its essence, a love song to a collection of straight razors?:
These are my friends.
See how they glisten.
See this one shine,
How he smiles in the light.
My friend, my faithful friend.
I returned to Abilene on Monday after a long weekend trip to Pennsylvania to participate in a memorial service for my mother, who passed away in February. The service was so meaningful. I will long cherish the time I was able to spend with family and friends as we commemorated the impact my mother had on our lives. While in PA I reconnected with a number of people with whom I share a special relationship because of our experiences in live theatre. At mom’s memorial I shared with one high school friend a vivid memory I have from when I was in 7th grade. That year I played the role of Louis, Anna’s son, in The King and I, my first official stage role. This high school friend was a bit older than me. A couple weeks before our opening, she pulled me to the side for a private conversation. “You need to loosen up,” she said. “You are too stiff. Relax. Have fun. Get into your character.” While my friend did not share this memory of our conversation, it made a real impression on me, a shy junior high student terrified that he might forget his lines in front of a large audience.
I’ve got this theory about theatre actors. Roughly speaking, you can group performers into two categories. First, there are some people that are clearly born for the stage. My cousin, Danielle, is one of these people. She emerged straight out of the womb with tap shoes on her feet belting Streisand showstoppers. A natural performer, Danielle was destined for the stage from the start. She’s been grinding out a living as an actor in New York for two decades now. I admire her for her grit and her talent. For Danielle and those like her, the stage is their natural home.
There is a second category of performer: people who were not born with immense raw, natural talent but who came to find in live theatre something that is deeply enriching, meaningful, and life transforming. I locate myself squarely in this camp. When I began performing many years ago I was a shy, awkward, introverted junior high student, not a natural performer. On a whim I decided to audition for a show. I was terrified during my first live show, but every year thereafter I came back to the stage. Over time, the experience of being on stage helped me overcome my shyness and allowed me to cultivate a sense of self and a self-confidence that has sustained me in my life outside of theatre. I credit my high school musical theatre teachers–Mr. Reed and Mr. French–with changing my life. While the stage is not my natural home, it is the place where I was shaped into the person that I now am. For all of those men and women who give themselves to teaching students the craft of theatre, God bless every one of you.
We are now in week two of rehearsals. All of my imaginings of what it might be like to be on a stage again have given way to the reality that live musical performances do not happen through sheer will and desire but through hours of intricate, sometimes mundane, creative labor. There are lines, lyrics, and notes to learn, scenes that need to be staged, transitions that must be rehearsed so that the pieces of the show are held together as a seamless whole.
One of the great delights I am rediscovering each night is the joy of getting to collaborate with other actors. Last week during an interview with ACU’s newspaper The Optimist I commented how being back in live theatre makes me feel like I am back with “my people,” men and women deeply passionate about live theatre. When you are away from theatre for a long time coming back to the stage feels like a sort of homecoming. Each evening I have the pleasure of being in the presence of men and women who have their own stories to tell about why they do theatre. Together we are committed to telling a rich, dark, and powerful story. We are committed to telling it well. As I reflect on the coming weeks, Sweeney’s words to his razors have taken on a different meaning for me. The men and women who make up the cast of Sweeney Todd: These are my friends. In six weeks we’ll be on stage together, like tightrope performers without a safety net to catch us if we fall. It’s scary and exhilarating, the very thought. To the men and women, past and present who have been part of my own theatrical journey, these are my friends…
…Well, I’ve come home
to find you waiting.
and we’ll do wonders,
won’t we?