Beauty From A Beast

So much has been transpiring, and yet, as with many aspects of my life, I have neglected to journal them so as to have a record of my life for the times that memory fails me—which is an unfortunately frequent occurrence.

I have been struggling in a number of ways.  One of which is my own self-perception.  I have always seen myself as the “Beast” to someone else’s “Beauty,” never deserving of that last transformation from beast to prince.  This has caused a great sum of pain over the years.  Yet I believe that God has been working to change all of that in the last two months.

I was recently cast in a musical stageplay by Stephen Sondheim called Into The Woods.  This was significant for many reasons, some of which I’ll detail.

My previous acting experience as Owen Musser in The Foreigner, though officially lauded, left me emotionally drained.  I was and am grateful for the precious gift of working with Director Bob Henry, under whose guidance I learned a great deal about the precious gift of acting and interacting with creative professionals.  However, once the show came to a close, I decided not to perform again, instead pursuing whatever God would place before me as my vocation.

One year later, I was told the following: “Yeah, they’re having auditions for the school play in a couple of hours.  You should think about auditioning.”  Right.  I won’t even bother describing how many things were technically wrong with that invitation.  I will suffice it to say that I feared that even if I were able to scrape together an audition from my repertoire, I would be unable to rise to the occasion.  But God had something altogether different in mind.

I happened upon a chance encounter with TLC’s Playfest overseer.  She keenly assessed my reluctance to participate and extended an invitation nonetheless.  I told her that I had never performed in a musical before.  She responded with grace and a warning that it was not for the faint of heart, but that I must audition nonetheless.

So I did.

I still don’t know why I did.  My experience as an acting major at Cornish and my many acting experiences since then represented a life that I had spent considerable time trying to escape.  And yet this time, from her in particular, I felt something nearly spiritual beckoning me to return to a once hallowed ground—a foundation that no matter how hard I tried I could not raze.

Having moments to prepare, I chose one of Buzz Hauser’s monologues from Love! Valor! Compassion! and the song “Free” from A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum.  I remember waiting outside the audition space for my name to be called thinking, “Whatever else happens, just be honest.”  I decided to, if nothing else, practice the presence of God by allowing each continuing moment to be led by God's desire for me rather than my desire to succeed.  Then my name was called.

I said to the director that I had not prepared in any way, that my voice had not been warmed up, that my technique had been rusted from non-use. . .blah blah blah.  And with that, I was instructed to proceed.  I was amazed at what happened next.

It didn’t suck.  At least, not completely.  Of course, when I attempted the F# it was outside my capability and resembled something like what I imagine the sound of a badger with a sore throat in a slow blender would be.

After the bits were done, I was given a new bit for an improvised sketch and told to work on something for five minutes, after which I would perform it for the tribunal.

Great.

So I went outside, and as I did, the funniest thing happened: words and technique flowed into me as if from somewhere else entirely.  Jokes, double entendre, rhetoric, satire, melody, dialects, gesticulations. . .they came rushing back.  And when I was called back into the rehearsal space, I simply allowed it all to flow right back out.  I became concerned when the director neglected to call scene that I would run out of material with which to improvise.  But when I began to run out of steam, scene was called and I was thanked for my participation and instructed to await the callback procedures.  It was over.  I went home and that was that.

A little over a week later, I received word that I was asked to return for callbacks.  This time I was given a song to perform and two scenes to improvise with a scene partner.  I guess the real bummer was that I couldn’t remember how to read sheet music.  I listened very closely to what everyone else was doing, endeavoring to recall how the song went from the recording I had heard a week earlier.  The only thought that continued to push me forward into this frightening arena was this: “Be honest.  Don’t worry.  Give it your all.”  And so I did.

I sang the song “Agony” as best I could with a male scene partner.  I also improvised a scene with a female partner in which I was the Big Bad Wolf endeavoring to instigate some less-than-virtuous rendezvous with Red Riding Hood.

Before the final phase of the callback audition, I was pulled aside and asked about my scheduling conflicts and my reluctance to play a large role.  I told the director about my full-time work status and part-time school work load.  I told him that I would love to participate, but only in a way that would be most beneficial for the ensemble as a whole, after all the show is only as strong as its weakest scenes.  He said that he had seen enough of my audition and was not considering me for any other roles than I had already auditioned for him.  With that, I thanked him and left.  A couple of weeks later, I received a phone call that I will never forget.

I remember praying that whatever God would will with this experience would be done in me.  I also remember saying that the Big Bad Wolf would be fun, that I could do it, and that I had experience enough with grotesque characters to make him compelling.  But if I could wish anything, it would be that I could play Cinderella’s Prince because I had never played someone desirable before; I had always been a tertiary or villainous character.

Then the phone rang.  It was the assistant director.  He said, “We want to thank you for auditioning.  We were very impressed with your improv as the Wolf. . .” to which I thought oh well. . .then he continued, “We would like to cast you as Cinderella’s Prince.  Is that something you would be interested in?”

I paused.  I had never been approached in this manner before.  Questions?  Would I be interested?

I said, “Do you feel as though this is the best decision for the ensemble?”

He replied, “Yes, we do.”

“In that case, yes, I would be happy to play the part of Cinderella’s Prince.”  I don’t remember anything after that, except hanging up the phone, dropping to my knees in shock and weeping at God’s faithfulness to grant me the desires of my heart when I seek after His desires for me.

And that was that.  I am now in the midst of the rehearsal process.  The show opens in a month-and-a-half.  I have thirteen brief scenes in which I appear onstage.  I have five full musical arrangements to memorize.  I have two duets with a fellow prince.  I have a “moment” with a baker’s wife.  And all the while the Lord has been showing me that I am no longer a “beast” to be imprisoned but a “prince” to be maintained with all humility and dignity.

God is faithful to take our past failures and disgraces, mix them with high heat and purpose, and make from them something altogether beautiful.  I look forward with great expectation to what great things God will do as He continues to propel me into the realm of holistic well-being.