14102012
The opening night of a play has always
been considered a “big deal”, and in a way it is: what the crew
has been working on is finally open for anyone to see (most often anyone with enough money, though). A play as an experience may offer insights and
new ideas and life-changing realizations, as it is an art form that
explores humanity not only in motion (such as dance) or sound (such
as music) or words (such as literature and poetry), but combining all
of this and re-creating the experience of lived life for the audience
to watch without being a part of it. By the opening night what the
crew has been processing has been crystallized into something that is
a whole, an entire message or a point of view the purpose of which is
to be shared and discussed. From the opening night onwards the
discussion will bloom, an influence may occur, the ripples will
spread. If not for the opening night, there would be no performances,
there would be no sharing, there would be no impact.
For the actors it is usually
nerve-wrecking. There's doubt of whether the performance is ready
yet, is it good at all, does it convey what we want to say, are the
actors doing a good job, will they be bashed or praised or worse:
ignored. The opening night is the first night for actual audience who
have paid to see the performance, and the crew has to succeed in
order for anyone to come see the play after that. It all comes down
to a fear of judgement: will they judge me? And ultimately – I
judge myself.
Today we had a premiere for the
anorexia play we have been rehearsing since June, and I realized that
I had no reasons to be nervous. I realized I have always created the
nervousness myself, that it is not an essential part of the
experience of joy, even though being nauseously nervous does make the
energy high afterwards seem greater. I noticed the thought patterns
leading me towards nervousness and simply stopped them. I realized
the paying audience doesn't make the situation “more” than our
rehearsals with a small group of rehearsal audience. Neither is
“more” or “less”, they're simply different. Acting is
different with more people and with strange people, yes, but it's not
necessarily “better” in any way. The performance is always at its
core interaction with the audience, even if we're not doing
interactive theatre per se, but that's why the situation is always new, no
matter who we perform to, as it's always about people facing people.
After I had realized this I didn't
experience the nervousness in ways I have experienced before, even
though it was still there on some level, but it was a lot smaller and
less strangling. I was able to breathe through my fear of failure and
focus on the acting itself.
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