16 January 2009

"One singular sensation, every little step she takes" -- A Chorus Line (Kleban & Hamlisch)

In eighth grade, my school did a production of Camelot.

Here's what I remember of the production:

On Guinevere:

  • There were two separate casts for the handful of primary roles. So, there were two Guineveres. One could sing but had no personality. The other had a lousy voice but plenty of moxie. Crowds loved the one with moxie. And, who could blame them? I'm having fun just typing "moxie." This has led me to the following beliefs: I believe personality trumps talent. As I have neither, I believe I'll have another beer.
On Lancelot:
  • I was desperately, painfully in love with one of the guys that played Lancelot. For YEARS. He was (and, no doubt, still is) nothing short of brilliant and intelligence is hotter than anything else.
  • He was also the only eighth grader with a full beard.
  • Before the show, he would walk around in just his tights and turtleneck that, on stage, he wore under a heavy tunic. Tights, people. It was like watching those ballet guys. I stared. A lot. I blushed. A lot.
On my pivotal role:
  • At the time, I was one of those horribly shy people that worried about having to say anything and how it might be perceived, so I almost never said anything.* Yet, I, somehow, managed to try out for, and get into, the small chorus (maybe six of us?) that was part of every performance. [For motivational factors, see "On Lancelot" above.]
On the grueling theatrical schedule:
  • The show ran for maybe two weeks, with three shows a week. Why, I don't know. The school wasn't that big. And the demand would have had to come up a few notches to be non-existent.
The reviews:
  • My family came to opening night. After the performance, I changed out of my costume, sharing the buzz of kids high on performance adrenaline. Then, I met my family in the hallway, anticipating praise. I believe my mother's comment was "They should never make children do a show that long!"

* I got over this and never looked back.**
** Okay, I'm looking back right now, but you know what I mean.


fiona said...

Forsooth my fellow thespian!

Mike said...

I like the cartoon. Just because you are gifted doesn't mean you have any common sense.

Barbara said...

Any idea what happened to Lancelot? For all you know, he could be pining away for that girl in the chorus, the one that kept looking at his tights...

brad said...

this reminded me of a beautiful letdown (thinking Switchfoot). not the post itself, just the mood for some reason. there was something wonderfully melancholy about it.

maybe i should stick to the snarkiness next time. i think i've muddled this comment box

Kristin said...

I'm still in love with my own eighth-grade Lancelot. I don't think he ever wore tights but I still stared. A lot.

Matt said...

Not tights.

Thats just cruelty to students right there.

How unflattering are tights?

Kate said...

Tights and a beard? Nice.

Narm said...

Damnit - my mom said punctuality was hotter than anything else.

LBluca77 said...

HA!! Hey at least your mom went. My parents would have pretended to be sick to get out of it.

lacochran's evil twin said...

Fiona: I defer to your higher thespianic ability.

Mike: It is one of my all-time favorite Larson cartoons. I work with very bright people but sometimes they're complete morons.

Barbara: I expect he's in a think tank somewhere. Meanwhile, I've found my prince.

f.B: You didn't muddle the comment any more than I muddled the post. Glad it wasn't completely depressing.

Kristin: There's something so urgent and tragic about that age, isn't there?

Matt: It was a cruel thing to do, come to think of it. You're right. On the other hand, it worked better on him than most. *cough*

Kate: It was!

Narm: Moms try to be encouraging. Well, not mine necessarily.

LBluca77: Thanks for the perspective. They did indeed show up.