Joel L. Schindlbeck on the Induction of The Taming of the Shrew.

Greetings Shakes-fans.

We’re thick in rehearsals for The Taming of the Shrew, and while I’m also playing Baptista, the Haberdasher (yeah, one-liners!) and the Widow, my most difficult challenge currently is the Lord in the Induction.

Why am I challenged by it? True, he isn’t the most in-depth character in the plot. And true, he is perhaps the most fanciful and ridiculous; therefore while perhaps physically exhausting, conceptually…well, how hard is it to wrap your head around a fruitcake?

The reason I find it challenging, is that the plot of the Induction doesn’t resolve itself. My instincts are then, CUT IT! But the Artistic Director, Katherine Mayberry, chose to keep it in. Of course, I completely respect her position on everything Shakespeare related, so I was forced to turn back to the Induction and make it work. To discover why it’s here and how to make it amazing!

The first thing I noticed about the induction, after scouring the lines and finding the bits of comedy and character inside of it, was that it could be seen as a “variation on the theme” of the main plot of Taming of the Shrew.

For those of you that haven’t read the Induction, it revolves around one rather Falstaff-ian Christopher Sly who ends up drunkedly passed out on the floor of the inn. A fanciful lord, returning from hunting with his entourage enters, and upon seeing the man, decides to turn his world topsy-turvy in order to “practice on this man.” The lord feels that the best means of making this drunkard “forget himself” is to convince him that he is, in fact, a “mighty lord”, rich and well-placed, with servants at his beck and call, leagues of gold and wealth, and a beautiful lady at his side. My character then instructs his entourage and a traveling troupe of actors to follow suit and teach Mr. Sly his lesson. They do, and the bewildered Sly is then whipped up into this world of fancy, even accompanying his “lady” to a play that evening at the inn. Perhaps…the play is one “The Taming of the Shrew”, potentially a parable for Sly in conversion to being a productive and upright member of society.

While, we never see what happens to Sly after his viewing of the play, this is certainly enough for me to build a character on. Thus, I must. And there is my challenge, to deliver this character regardless of the fact that his plot is never resolved. No resolution, no denouement, no jig song at the end for him! All that build up! (Trust me, with the amount of lines that this Lord delivers in just these two scenes, the build-up is immense.)

So, I do it.

I have an acting theory that has worked for me in the concept of character building, and it is certainly applicable here. I believe that for one to truly be able to deliver their character on stage, whole-heartedly committed and convincing, one must “jump off the cliff”. We stand at a precipice with every role. To simply stand at the rock’s edge, dangling one’s toes over into the oblivion, is non-committal. It’s full of fear, and thus weakens one’s position and delivery. To truly commit to character, one must jump and know that there is no going back, regardless of how far the fall truly is or what will happen when one reaches the ground. Think of it. Flying down through the air, there is nothing but instinctual emotion and rippling sensations of wind, gravity and air beating against either side of you. You have no ground to stand on, you simply see the end growing larger and larger towards you with no retreat.

So, I believe that this is what I must do with this character, even if the “ground” is never in sight. I must jump and give in to the chaos of the character’s world, regardless of the end (or lack thereof.) My only aim, to make it a beautiful flight. Let’s try…

Brooke Heintz on the concept of a six-person Taming of the Shrew

A couple weeks ago, one of our Pigeon Creek board members approached me about our upcoming rehearsal period for Taming of the Shrew with a look on his face that made it evident he had no idea how I was going to take what he was about to say to me. I was cast to play Kate in the production back in Spring of 2011, so I’ve had months to look forward to this, and wonder about what direction we were going to take it in. There are a lot of questions every cast has to wrangle with when putting on a play that is as controversial as Shrew can be, and I was excited to find out what angle we were going to take.

What I didn’t expect was what Scott had to tell me.

“It looks like we’re going to try a six person cast.”

Now, it took a minute for those words to sink in. Maybe you can get it faster than I did. Pigeon Creek always has ‘small’ casts compared to many other theaters who produce works of Shakespeare, on account of our devotion to original practices that keeps our troupes small, often relying on doubling or tripling roles.

But by ’small’, I mean usually around 10-12.

We were looking at half that.

The challenges in such a tiny cast aren’t really in having to deal with a larger burden of roles per actor – like I said, that’s pretty par for the course for PCSC, and I’ve played as many as 6 different roles in one show before. The real problems were a little more jarring.

“This means, there are definitely going to have to be times,” Scott said, “when we’re talking to ourselves… onstage.”

That one took a longer minute to sink in.

Oh.

We didn’t have enough actors with six to cover how many people are onstage at any given time in some scenes.

Things just got way more interesting. I looked at Scott, smiled, and said I was still all in.

To be honest, I was even more excited (and more petrified, let’s not forget that) than before. This will be a first for PCSC, and hopefully set a precedent we can follow in the future for further small cast shows. In other words, we’re going to be breaking ground – probably messily.

Other troupes out there have done the same kind of thing before, so we all went to check out their techniques on the internet and came together for our first brainstorming meet last week. We sat down and went through the entire play after a read through, breaking down all the problem spots. Moments where an actor left, only to have to enter immediately as an another character to deliver the very next line. Times where a character had an extended conversation onstage… with themselves. Scenes where a character was pointed out and discussed… by another character that they also played.

It seemed like there was no way around making it silly, so we had to decide what conventions we were going to use to make it not only as entertaining as possible, but how to keep it clear to the audience what was going on. We took a hacksaw to the script and cut out lines or reassigned them to try to eliminate unnecessarily confusing moments. We came up with character concepts and easily swappable costume ideas, and talked about what to do with staging and movement to indicate two characters onstage in different places.

We talked a lot. But by the end of the night, any traces of doubt I had were eradicated.

Not only could we do this, but we could do it with style.

So here’s hoping it ends up making sense. Or on the off chance that it doesn’t, that it at least makes you guys laugh.

Janna Rosenkranz as Westmoreland, Northumberland, Bardolph and Glendower.

I play four, very different men in Henry IV, Part 1: the solider Westmoreland, the politician Northumberland, the clown Bardolph and the Welsh, wizard-warrior Glendower. As an actor I approach my roles from the outside-in. I use everything from physical descriptions, historical renderings (in this case three of the four characters are based on real people), clothing and footwear, how the world sees the character from the outside to the image the character wishes to show the world when working on the essence of characters.

In this case I began by choosing an archetypical figure-type for my men, hence the title of this essay. I choose these archetypes to work as cores for all four characters. I’ll tell you about them in order of appearance.

Westmoreland, based on Ralph Neville, 1st Earl of Westmorland (ca. 1364 – 21, October 1425) who, among other things, had 23 children and was survived by most of them. (wikipedia) The historical information I read mostly speaks about his responsibilities as a solider. In our play he is portrayed as simply this and, more importantly, a method of communicating exposition in the first scene. He only truly expresses emotions once; in the first scene when he describes the ‘beastly and shameless transformation” done to the bodies of Mortimer’s men by the Welsh women after a military loss to Glendower. In order to turn this character into someone three dimensional, I have concentrated on his loyalty to the King and his sons, Hal and John. My job as an actor is to make two speeches of exposition in the first scene interesting and compelling. Therefore, I worked on making him truly love the royal family and hate the Percy family as much as possible. This is nicely bookended by the final scene in which, without lines, I try to communicate my love for the Lancasters and pleasure that they have been victorious over the rebels.

Now to Westmoreland’s enemy, Northumberland. Henry Percy, 1st Earl of Northumberland, 4th Baron Percy (10, November 1341 – 20, February 1408). (wikipedia) He is only in one scene, but like Glendower, his name comes up a lot in other scenes. For an actor how much the character is talked about and what is said about them is very important. Northumberland has his hands full with a family that doesn’t quite live up to his standards. His brother, Worchester crosses the line with the King and his son Hotspur is impossible to control. I love my one full line in the first part of the one scene in which I play this character, when I manipulate the truth regarding Hotspur’s prisoners like a master (think former VP Cheney’s recent press tour). Sadly, the idiot Hotspur opens his mouth and messes my plan up. I spend the entire rest of that first half of the scene trying not to boil over with anger at him as he goes on (and on and on) and continues to dig his own grave. In the second half of the scene with only Hotspur and Worchester on stage, my favorite line is the bitingly sarcastic “Brother, the King hath made your nephew mad.” (Henry IV, Part 1: I, iii) Sadly, neither brother nor son are sophisticated enough to understand sarcasm. My Northumberland is full of anger towards his family, and I secretly believe that the illness that keeps him out of the Battle of Shrewsbury is an abandonment of his son and brother. He knows they will lose. Historically, Northumberland would go on to launch another rebellion in 1408 and end up with his head on a spike.

My third character , poor drunk Bardolph is one of the tavern clowns who ‘assist’ Falstaff and drink with him and Prince Hal. Again, my information came from what other characters say about him. His major characteristic is that “his face is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames o’ fire: and his lips blows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes blue and sometimes red; but his nose is executed and his fire’s out. “ (Fluellen: Henry V: III, iv) In a pivotal exchange for Bardolph, Prince Hal comments that the redness of his face “portends…if rightly taken, halter” (Henry IV, Part 1: II, iv). Here Hal sees the future (as he does in this scene with Falstaff) and hints that one day, Bardolph will be punished for his thieving and drunkenness. Indeed this occurs when, as King Henry V, Hal will watch Bardolph hung. I love giving poor Bardolph a bit of a ’somebody just walked over my grave’ feeling here. Poor Bardolph is easily offended and tries very hard to believe that he’s a tough guy.

Finally I was extremely lucky to be cast as the wizard warrior Owen Glendower. Glendower, like his ally Northumberland, is often spoken about in the play although he only appears in one scene. The historical Glendower — or Owain Glynd?r or Owain Glyn D?r (c.1349 or 1359 – c.1416) — is seen as the Welsh King Arthur and was the last native Welshman to hold the title Prince of Wales. In the late 19th century the Welsh nationalistic movement Cymru Fydd recreated him as the father of Welsh nationalism. In 2000, celebrations were held all over Wales to commemorate the 600th anniversary of the Glynd?r uprising (our rebellion). He has since been voted in at 23rd in a poll of 100 Greatest Britons (a BBC produced program) in 2002. (wikipedia) As an actor, I felt playing Glendower was a huge responsibility. Along with the challenge of speaking Welsh (something director Scott Lange and fellow actor Lindsey Hansen and I continue to attempt to do – especially me, I’m sad to report) playing such a mythical creature is a huge deal. But, despite the hugeness of Glendower I have to make him human as well, so to do this I make him believe that he is a wizard and that he ‘thrice…sent him (Henry IV) Bootless home and weather-beaten back.” (Henry IV, Part 1: III,i). He can control the weather, the “earth did tremble” at his birth, he is a great magician. It’s this very Confidence (with a large C) that drives him to believe that the rebels won’t need him and his troops for two weeks. Of course, this lack of troops (Glendower’s and Northumberland’s) is the nail in the rebel’s coffin.

The above is a very general summary of how I approached each character, and many further specifications have to be made to make the moments they are on stage spontaneous and real. These come from Shakespeare’s words, my true inspiration.

Lindsey Hansen as Poins

In April, I auditioned for Goodnight Desdemona, Good Morning Juliet at Aquinas College. We had a new director as well; Katherine Mayberry from GVSU. Having a guest director always gets people on their A-game and I’m no different. I prepared my monologue, performed it and hoped for a call. I was fortunate enough to get a callback (which was a great sign for me because I must have made an impression, whether bad or good). And, lucky me, I ended up getting cast!

About a week later, I received an e-mail from Katherine. She told me that Pigeon Creek Shakespeare Company was doing an all female cast of Henry IV Part 1 and had an open spot that she told the director I would be really good for. Needless to say, I was ecstatic! I went out that day and bought Henry IV Part 1 and 2, did every Google search I could on the play, Shakespeare and Pigeon Creek. I went to my audition, shaking. I didn’t want to mess up my monologue and definitely didn’t want to make Katherine regret suggesting me to Scott Lange, the director. I made it through the audition in one piece and was offered a part. I kept my composure until I got to my car. I sat in my car for a good five minutes smiling and screaming and doing a little happy dance.

This whole experience has been incredible for me. This is the first time in about three years that I have done something other than an Aquinas show. It is the first time I’ve worked with a professional theatre group. It is the first time I have worked with Shakespeare outside of the classroom. It was my first time ever experiencing stage combat. It is the first time I have had to play my violin in a show. And I was also introduced to the wild and crazy world of Welsh.

I was the newbie in the group and also the youngest, which would intimidate most people. Now. I would love to sit here and say “but I’m not like most people.” That would be a lie. I was terrified. Here I am with all of these incredibly experienced people, hoping and praying I don’t mispronounce the word ‘zounds’ or ‘capon.’
After a few weeks of rehearsal, I opened up a lot more. Not only to everyone around me, but also to my characters. Poins is (how should I put this) energetic. I like to think that Poins doesn’t ever sleep. If he does, it is for about five minutes then he is out and about trolling the town and drinking lots and lots of Red Bull. He so badly wants to impress Hal and everyone around him. I can see how Falstaff might get annoyed with him and think that Poins made him drink medicines in order to love ‘the rogues company.’

Now from Poins to Lady Mortimer; what a transformation. Lady Mortimer has been actually a lot of fun. Without fail, someone always comes up to me after a performance and asks if what I’m saying is actually Welsh or if I make up the song. Yes, the Welsh is real. No, I do not make up the song. When I first got the Welsh, I went into a mini panic. How was I going to memorize this in three weeks, let alone a song? Scott helped me so much and I definitely credit him when it comes to the Welsh. Claire Mahave has also been a great help. She has made me so comfortable and we have really developed a nice love for Lord and Lady Mortimer outside of the sexual love they share.

Of course we can’t forget Vernon. It was fun to have three totally different characters to play around with. Vernon is still younger, like Poins, but he carries himself differently. He is learning all of these new things and tactics, yet still is a man. He has opinions and even though he is new to the rebel camp, he is still going to speak his mind. Even though he still believes in the rebel army, he can’t help but be in awe over Prince Hal, which has definitely been fun to play around with, and also equally as difficult.

I don’t think I can say thank you enough to the Pigeon Creek family. They really have welcomed me with open arms and totally accepted me. I am excited that this journey won’t be over once we close the show next weekend because working with this fantastic group of women has been an incredible experience. I feel as if a whole new world has opened up to me and it is all because of the people I’ve worked with on this production.

And if I haven’t said it enough…THANK YOU!

Kathleen Bode as King Henry IV

I have the first lines in this play.

That was a terrifying thought for me.

It is not the first time that I have said the opening lines of a show for Pigeon Creek, but this time it seemed so much more challenging. My physical presence, voice, and stage presence for this moment needed to be larger than life. It has to set the tone for the entire play and everything that follows (not to mention sum up Richard II). Yikes.

I began with my physical presence. As I have said before, this is my biggest challenge. I did a lot of work with making myself more grounded (i.e.: having a slightly wider stance, balancing myself more evenly on my feet, and moving like a guy.

I spent several weeks prior to rehearsals observing the physical movements of many of the guys I know, and taking note of how these movements were different from my own. Men and women move in different ways based on some basic, biological factors such as center of gravity, a difference in hip and shoulder widths, and of course…

But what really struck me as I observed the movements of men, were the many subtle differences in posture, gesture and facial reactions. Have you ever noticed how men fold their arms? Have you ever noticed how women do? I knew that, while I may not be able to change my stride, gait, or center of gravity to that of a man, I could make some changes to the more subtle movements that I had observed.

Next came the voice. With the past voice work I had done with Heather Folkvord, I was feeling good about where to start. I worked on focusing the energy of my voice to the lower registers and resonators. This is more than just talking in a lower voice. I had to allow my breathing and vocal chords to support my voice from deep within. It was wonderful to be able to explore the use of these full and robust sounds.

As for stage presence, that was a bit more difficult. I tried several different tactics for these opening moments, but none of them seemed to be working. The intentions I was trying to convey (i.e.: hope, civil peace, and a focused mission), were not ones that were reading well or fitting in with the tone of the rest of the play. It was when Scott Lange, our director, came to me and said, ‘You are commanding. Try demanding instead.’ that things really began to click for me.

With presence and voice all coming together, the moment finally came through with the strength, support and vigor that it so desperately needed.

So, shaken as we are,…

Sarah Stark as Worcester

I have to be honest. My favorite aspect of Henry IV Part 1, has been the chance to play a man. It is neither the first time, nor the last that I will do so, I am sure. It is an intriguing challenge, to take a history so swollen with testosterone and physical combat and place it in the delicate hands of an all female cast. As a female actress, the question of how you are to represent a man is a tricky one. In my character preparation, I found my mind racing through my personal history with men. It was easy for me to fall into the trap of creating a stereotypical imitation of masculinity (i.e.: a wide-legged walk, a deep voice, and a bit of a confident swagger.) However, as I explored the character of Worcester I found he could not be pinned into the “High School Quarterback” type of man. Rather, he was a deeply bitter man obsessed with political machinations and willing to manipulate others even at the cost of their lives. A type of man, thankfully, I have never encountered.

Herein lies the beauty of Shakespeare. Every nuance of your role is provided in the text. You simply have to look hard enough. I typically begin my character work by slowly reciting my lines until I begin to apprehend the rhythmic exchange between every single consonant and vowel. Consonants convey energy and force as they halt or explode the breath, while vowels stream and poof air, giving them a more emotional quality.

The first thing I noticed about Worcester was how poetic his language is. A bit unusual for a man, I thought. The second thing was how many vowels he utilized. Initially, I imagined his powers of manipulation would reside in force, which would merit a more consonant-heavy speech pattern. He chose vowels, however, and shaped them to frame his purposes with a nice, emotional gilt.

Touching on acting centers of the body, I began to realize that he was head-lead, occasionally dipping into the gut and groin when glimpses of his terrible rage surfaced. His thoughts were too cohesive and slick to not be planned. As rehearsals progressed more evidence unfolded for me. For example, in a crucial scene of political negotiation, Worcester – the highest-ranking rebel present – allows Hotspur to address Blunt, the Kings’ noble messenger. Another signal appeared to me in the fact that he was not portrayed in combat at the end, rather we, the audience, witness his capture. Initially, I envisioned him as a man of brute force but the text lead me to see a slicker, stealthier rebel; a mad, mastermind unflinching in the pursuit of his retribution, allowing the thoughts and actions of others to be his tools. The image of a rattlesnake arose in my mind.

As vicious and animalistic as Worcester seemed, the fact of the matter was that his anger and abuse of others stemmed from pain. The desire to avoid pain is a universal human motivation, transcending the matter of gender. On a pure level, Worcester had a wounded spirit, believing that love and acceptance have been denied and refused to him. In his mind, love was worth fighting for, even if it involved all of England with a bit of help from the Scots. Cueing into this very human and familiar desire does a world’s worth more then any analytical conception of masculinity. Perhaps, that is the most powerful aspect of an all-female cast for Henry IV, Part 1; the discovery that gender is merely a term, which seems to separate human beings. In reality, the natural desire of our hearts proves that we are all ultimately connected.

Katherine Mayberry as Hotspur

Shakespeare’s Henry IV Part 1 is one of his most brilliantly structured plays. Like many of his comedies, this history follows parallel plots which move towards each other, finally coming together in act 5 and climaxing in the battlefield face-off between Hal and Hotspur. One plot is the story of Hal’s personal rebellion against his father, his friendship with Fallstaff, and his ultimate reformation. The other plot is what I like to call The Tragedy of Hotspur.

Of course, every actor wants to think the play is all about her own character, but I also say this because Hotspur functions in many ways like Shakespeare’s tragic heroes. He has multiple chances to avert his tragic ending, and makes choices which bring about his own destruction. He doesn’t turn over his prisoners to the king, he plots rebellion, he refuses to back down when his father doesn’t show up to the fight, he insists on beginning the fight against the advice of the other rebel leaders, and he rejects the king’s offer of clemency carried by Sir Walter Blunt (although Worcester does manipulate this response a little bit). He is determined to run headlong towards the clash with Hal.

The trap of playing Hotspur is that it would be easy to just play “angry” for 2 1/2 hours, and I have no desire to scream my head off for the entire play, nor do I want audiences to have to sit through that, so in rehearsals, I have focused on finding the variety in the character.

Shakespeare’s text actually shows a lot of depth and variety in Hotspur. He isn’t a villain, but a foil to Hal, who even calls him “my factor.” Whenever I read the play, I have to confess, I’m a little bit in love with Hotspur. I think it’s the sarcastic sense of humor. I greatly enjoy playing the comedy in act 3, scene 1, in which Hotspur encounters Owen Glendower, the Welsh warlord who claims that he “can call spirits from the vasty deep.” Hotspur’s response, “Why so can I, or so can any man,/But will they come when you do call for them?” is a perfect example of the wry and sardonic humor that he uses throughout the play.

Shakespeare also does the actor playing Hotspur a great favor by putting a scene of his domestic life on stage. The scene with Lady Percy doesn’t advance the play’s plot at all. It offers a glimpse into the characters’ personal relationship, and Amy McFadden and I have tried to create an image of a passionate marriage. The scene involves a confrontation in which Lady Percy demands to know what has been preoccupying her husband, and he refuses to tell her. This scene has been one of the hardest for me to play in terms of being a female actor playing a male character, because there are some ways in which Hotspur is being a real jerk. He ignores his wife’s pleas for information and calls in a servant to get out of the conversation. When Lady Percy persists in her questions, he explodes and tells her “I love thee not.” What he is trying to do, in a clumsy way, is to protect her. He has been plotting a rebellion against the king, which is treason. His plot would put Lady Percy’s brother, Edmund Mortimer, on the throne. If Lady Percy knows anything about the plot, she too is guilty of treason. She is safer if she doesn’t have any information. The scene presents Hotspur handling this situation badly, a nice flawed, human moment.

Another moment that I feel is crucial to the character’s depth is the moment when Hotspur receives the letter from his father Northumberland which says that Northumberland is not bringing his army to fight against the king because he is “sick.” I try to imagine the punch in the gut Hotspur must feel when reading this letter. Essentially, Northumberland is willing to abandon his son to a traitor’s death rather than bring his army to fight against the king. From Hotspur’s point of view, Northumberland is pretending to be sick so that he can see which way the initial battle goes before deciding which side he will be on. At this point in the play, Hotspur has committed his treasonous plots to paper and raised an army. There are only three possibilities for him: kill both the king and Hal in battle, die on the battlefield, or be executed for treason. I have tried to have these realizations within the scene. This scene is Hotspur’s one moment of hesitation and fear. He initially reacts to Northumberland’s absence as “A perilous gash, a very limb lopped off,” but then insists to Douglas and Worcester that their forces are enough to take on the king. He responds to his own fear and feelings of betrayal with bravado, using his habitual cockiness to convince not only the other rebel leaders, but also himself.

From this point on, Hotspur is moving inexorably towards his confrontation with Hal, rejecting any possible means of avoiding it, because he has something to prove. He is no longer sensible to reason, but driven by his anger at the king, and his disgust for the “sword and buckler Prince of Wales” who holds an exalted position in spite of his “libertine” life and lack of accomplishment. Our fight choreographer, Michael Empson, has created a combat sequence that makes an excellent contribution to the story as well, with Hotspur so blinded by rage that he tries to kill Hal with his bare hands. I hope audiences will enjoy seeing this production as much as we enjoy performing it.

Amy McFadden as Douglas, Lady Percy, Lancaster et al.

What is the difference between men and women? I mean other than the usual bath towel inventory, matching sets of lingerie vs. boxers or briefs and how excited we get when a baby who does not share our DNA is born. I am generalizing, maybe even sex-role stereotyping, but when you have a group of females telling a male-dominated history riddled with political alliances and vicious battles, differences must be considered. And overcome.

Physicalization is one of the primary jobs of actors playing any role. Many of us have been taught to “strip” ourselves of all habit, stance, stride and facial expressions that are “ours”-our “real life” physicalization. That is NOT an easy job, as these things are subconscious and deeply embedded. One leg up women have over men in this process is that we have to learn to walk in different heights of shoes and lengths of skirts, so we tend to have some experience in consciously changing our posture, gait and strategy for sitting with decorum.

When the casting for Henry IV, Part I was announced, I was relieved to be playing Lady Percy and four male roles including the Scot, Archibald Douglas. I figured I’d be wearing a skirt for at least two of my five characters! As for the rest of the work, I got some fundamental advice from one of our well-trained actresses : “Just figure out right now how big each of your male character’s penis is and everything else will fall into place.” Sound advice. Especially when I discovered in my research that The Douglas lost a testicle in battle against the English. His stance now shifts lighter on the left.

Fast forward six weeks. Opening night I was standing backstage, ready to enter as Lady Percy (the only female character I play) and realized that after a month and a half of preparing to play mostly male characters, I actually felt uncomfortable in my skirt. Ha! I shot a quick “thank you” to the theatre gods that The Douglas ended up in pants instead of a kilt, opened the curtain and entered, hoping I didn’t have visible panty-lines.

Owen McIntee as Guiderius

Three months ago, I was strolling through the beautiful Aquinas College campus when I came across an audition notice posted on the wall of the theatre annex. It was for some play called Cymbeline, through some company called Pigeon Creek. I had never heard of this particular Shakespeare piece, but having never had the experience of acting in a show by the world’s greatest playwright, I immediately began shuffling through my head for an appropriate audition monologue and marked the date in my calendar. Did I mention there was a short sentence at the bottom of the notice that read, ‘actors will receive a paid stipend’? Oh yeah, I was definitely interested.

Unfortunately life had other plans. Around the same time I was told I needed surgery under my left shoulder. The procedure was very minor, quick and painless and the recovery went as smoothly as I could have possibly hoped. But due to poor timing more than anything else, I was rendered unavailable for an audition and my hopes of getting my first Shakespearean role were quickly dashed. I was bummed of course, but soon forgot all about it and shifted my focus to the upcoming week of finals.

Fast forward about five or six weeks. Heading into the dog days of summer, I was surprised by a phone call from Katherine Mayberry, executive director of the Pigeon Creek Shakespeare Company. She told me a cast member had to drop out of Cymbeline, and asked if I would be interested in coming to a sort of impromptu audition for the part. “HELL, YEAH!!!!”, I said, in the most professional tone of voice I could muster. The next day I came in for the most completely blind audition I’ve ever had, stumbled my way through a few sides, and somehow managed to win the part.

Talk about baptism by fire. I soon learned that the show opened in approximately 20 days. My first day of rehearsal I walked in, was handed a quarterstaff, and tried to learn my first fight in about a half an hour. Let’s just say I’m glad no one was videotaping- we may have had the next version of Star Wars kid on our hands. Over the next couple of weeks I was to scramble to learn my lines, blocking, music, fights and choreography (that’s right, there was even dancing involved). Being a nervous, constantly worrying person by nature, I feared I might have a complete meltdown before we even made it to Saugatuck.

Looking back, I have to smile. From the very first moment I walked into the rehearsal space, Bob Jones and the entire cast made me feel right at home. Everyone went out of their way to help me get into the swing of things however they could, and I never once felt like “the new guy” or the “replacement.” I was treated with the utmost respect and professionalism throughout the process, which only encouraged me to work my butt off to catch up. Although Bob usually had copious amounts of notes for me, he never seemed worried at all that I wouldn’t be ready in time, and was so patient, helpful and calm that I was able to relax and focus. More than anything, I am grateful to all of the guys for keeping my mind at ease and allowing me to work at a comfortable pace. All in all, I think it went smoothly.

My character, Guiderius, is a rugged mountaineer, sort of like a “Lost Boy”, not a typical character for me. Fitting, since this wasn’t a typical show. As we prepare to close our production at C3 Exchange in Spring Lake, I can’t help but be proud of what everyone’s hard work has culminated in, and will never forget one of the most unique, challenging and just plain fun acting experiences of my life.

Claire Mahave as Blunt and Mortimer (and Quickly)

I’ve been in local theater for over thirty years, but this is the first time I’ve played a manly man. (Notes to self: walk like a dude, sit like a dude, stop making those girly hand gestures, legs apart at pretty much all times, use my lower voice register, ground myself, act like I own the place, and when I flirt with my wife, be sure to look at her body, not just her eyes.) In fact, I am playing several men. One is Blunt, a soldier and trusted member of King Henry’s entourage. Another is the romantic (and, apparently, revolted) Mortimer, a rebel who would have been king, had Henry not once played the rebel himself.

It is with noted and self-conscious irony, then, that I report to you that the most difficult character for me to come to terms with is neither of these two men, but my lone female character Mistress Quickly. The reason for this is simple—Quickly is a clown, and I, alas, am not. I am awed by the people who can step into these roles and explode past the boundaries of good taste to ferret out the incredible number of ways a scene can be riotously funny. For me, it’s work, and the results are less than stellar. I agonize over these roles, and if some proverbial fly on the wall were to watch the rehearsal process from start to end (including my at-home solo rehearsals), said fly would marvel at the number of things I try on for size—assuming that flies marvel at anything, which is somewhat doubtful. Anyhoo, one of the things that I value about Pigeon Creek is that doubling forces me to play outside my acknowledged strengths. I mean, I already know I can look tragic and be motherly. I can be a tragic mother with the best of them. But can I be a steadfast soldier or whorish hostess? We shall see, but I am at any rate grateful for the opportunity and will do my very best for company and country.

Preparation for this show has been a little different for me, mostly because I get to fight. I have always wanted to do stage combat, but other than knifing someone in the back and gouging out his eye with my thumb (Ah, Regan! You were such evil fun!), I’ve never had the opportunity because I’m not a guy. As I thought, stage combat is a tons o’ fun but also very challenging. (Notes to self: remember the wrist, the pointy side is supposed to go toward the person I’m trying to hit, keep low, keep the point away from the audience, look at my target, stay relaxed, extend.) It’s a little hard on the knees, but well worth it. In a small bit of delicious casting, I am fighting with Amy, who in her adorable petite-ness makes me look positively brawny. (Spoiler alert: she kicks my butt, which may be taken both literally and figuratively in this case.)

This one’s going to be good, folks. I’m very happy that we’re coming along as quickly as we are. I love working with these women (and Scott, of course), and I know that this show will be excellent. Powers That Be at Pigeon Creek, thank you for casting me, and thank you for not making me learn lines in Welsh.

I hope to see you all at a performance!

« Previous PageNext Page »