An Actor Recalls

anna parker

CAST OF CHARACTERS

SARA (20s): A neurotic young actress. In high school, she understudied the female lead in the musical all four years. The girl who played the female lead went on to spend four years understudying Elphaba in the national tour of Wicked, a fact Sara might find slightly more satisfying and poetically just if she herself were not stuck here doing… this.

TIM (20s): Sara’s affable scene partner – the straight man, in every sense of the term. In high school, he was a boy and halfway decent and therefore got whatever role he wanted.

THE DIRECTOR (50s): That one director you still tell horror stories about. In high school, he pretended to disdain the annual musical as “the lowest form of culture” because he was bitter about the fact that he could not sing.

A bare-bones rehearsal space, afternoon. SARA and TIM, 20-something actors, are rehearsing a scene. The DIRECTOR sits in a nearby folding chair, perhaps holding a pad and pencil.

TIM (as MAN)

I don’t understand.

SARA (as WOMAN)

No. How could you?

TIM (as MAN)

I thought you loved me.

SARA (as WOMAN)

I do. I do. It’s not that.

TIM (as MAN)

Then what is it?

SARA (as WOMAN)

Suddenly I am so unsure of everything. Suddenly everything is turned upside down. And– just…

TIM (as MAN)

Just what?

SARA (as WOMAN)

I’ve seen what happens. After– this. After the ring and the honeymoon and the promises. My father–

TIM (as MAN)

I’m nothing like your father. You know that.

SARA (as WOMAN)

He was just as charming as you are, my mother said. Just as charming as you are– and then–

She breaks down. At least, that’s what the script says she’s supposed to do. Really, she screws up her face and lets out a few rather fake-looking sobs.

DIRECTOR

I’m going to stop you right there.

TIM stops acting and turns expectantly to the DIRECTOR. SARA continues to contort her face into absurd expressions, trying to squeeze out a tear.

TIM

Sara.

SARA

Wh… Oh. Sorry.

SARA stops acting and turns expectantly to the DIRECTOR.

DIRECTOR

Sara.

SARA

Yes.

DIRECTOR

This scene.

SARA

… Yes.

DIRECTOR

We’ve been over this.

SARA

I know–

DIRECTOR

I need you to cry.

SARA

I was almost there–

DIRECTOR

Were you?

SARA

Wasn’t I, Tim?

TIM looks at SARA, then at the DIRECTOR. He comes to the conclusion that he will be in trouble no matter what he says.

TIM

Um. Yeah. Kind of. In a way.

SARA

How about we just–

DIRECTOR

Let’s take it from ‘I don’t understand.’

SARA

Great.

DIRECTOR

Tim?

TIM (as MAN)

I don’t understand.

SARA (as WOMAN)

No. How could you?

DIRECTOR

But pause after the no. Like, ‘No– (He takes a sharp breath in–) how could you?’

SARA (as WOMAN)

No– how could you?

DIRECTOR

Better.

TIM (as MAN)

I thought you loved me.

SARA (as WOMAN)

I do. I do. It’s not that.

TIM (as MAN)

Then what is it?

SARA (as WOMAN)

Suddenly I am so unsure of everything. Suddenly everything is turned upside-down. And– just…

DIRECTOR

Here.

SARA

What?

DIRECTOR

This is where the floodgates open.

SARA

Got it.

DIRECTOR

But not all the way. Just a crack. And then you have that line, the “charming” line, and then– what does it say?

SARA

“She breaks down.”

DIRECTOR

Right. So, you’re crying quietly, you’re crying quietly, and then you get to the “charming” line, and you break down. You lose it.

SARA

Okay.

A beat. SARA waits. So does the DIRECTOR.

SARA

Oh– you mean, like, right now?

DIRECTOR

Yes.

SARA

Okay. So, I’ll just back up to…

DIRECTOR

Right on it.

SARA

So on “Just…”

DIRECTOR

You know what? No. Scrap the words. That’s a layer we can add back in.

SARA

So, act it out silently.

DIRECTOR

Right.

TIM and SARA exchange glances. An offer of help; a polite refusal. SARA looks away. Takes a preparatory breath. But TIM always has to be the hero.

TIM

Or maybe…

The DIRECTOR glares at him. He trails off.

DIRECTOR

Yes?

TIM

I was just going to say maybe we could try doing it in our own words. Paraphrasing. I know that helps me sometimes.

DIRECTOR

This isn’t a paraphrasing kind of play, Tim.

TIM

… Right, no, you’re right.

DIRECTOR

It’s too naturalistic for that.

TIM

Absolutely, yeah–

DIRECTOR

Too… avant-garde.

TIM

(Almost on top of him):

Avant-garde!

SARA

Avant-garde?

DIRECTOR

That’s what the playwright wants it to say on the programs. “Avant-garde.” That or “unprecedented.” But she would prefer “avant-garde” because it sounds more intellectual and French.

SARA

I don’t get how this is avant-garde.

TIM

The character names. Just calling us “Man” and “Woman.”

DIRECTOR

It’s supposed to show the universality of the human experience.

SARA

But the play itself—

DIRECTOR

Forget the play.

SARA

But the characters–

DIRECTOR

Forget the characters! Sara. Scrap the play. Scrap the words. Scrap the characters. Focus on the tears.

SARA

So, you just want me to cry. Right now. As myself.

DIRECTOR

Right.

SARA

Okay. Um, okay.

SARA takes a breath, then begins an elaborate and protracted facial ballet consisting of a quivering chin and a knitted brow and a visibly lifted soft palate. It is not entirely unconvincing, but it fails to elicit any actual tears. After what seems (at least to SARA) to be an interminable amount of time, the DIRECTOR motions for her to stop. She snaps immediately out of it.

SARA

Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m just not sure how to– actually–

TIM

You could try plucking out a nose hair or something. There’s this actor who did that, this 80s actor–

DIRECTOR

(To TIM:) Quiet. (A beat. Then, intently, to SARA): I don’t understand.

A beat.

SARA

Are you– doing the scene, or…

DIRECTOR

Why can't you get this? I don’t understand why you can’t get this. Tell me, Tim.

TIM

What?

DIRECTOR

What do you think? Why do you think Sara is incapable of taking my direction?

TIM

Look, I don’t want to get in the middle of this–

DIRECTOR

Of course. Of course, you don’t want to get in the middle of this. You don’t want to tell the truth; you’re too afraid of hurting her feelings. That’s the problem with your generation. Acting is about truth and you’re afraid to tell it. But I digress. Sara. You’ve been doing the exercises I gave you?

SARA

Yes.

DIRECTOR

The emotional recall.

SARA

… Yes.

DIRECTOR

And it’s not working?

SARA

I don’t know.

DIRECTOR

It’s not working.

A beat. SARA swallows.

SARA

Honestly, I’m having trouble with the concept of–

DIRECTOR

The concept. I see. Tim, would you care to explain the concept of emotional recall to your fellow actor?

SARA

No, I– understand what emotional recall is. But the thing about having to find comparably traumatic events from my own life–

DIRECTOR

If you want to be an actor, you’re going to have to go to those dark places.

SARA

But that’s the thing–

DIRECTOR

This is a safe space, if that’s what you’re worried about. If that’s the term nowadays. Right, Tim?

TIM

That’s the term, yes.

DIRECTOR

This is a safe space, isn’t it, Tim?

TIM

Um. Extremely.

SARA

That’s not the issue–

DIRECTOR

Wonderful. Then you should have no problem plumbing the deepest darkest depths of your personal childhood trauma. (Beat.) So, what’ve you got?

SARA

I’m sorry?

DIRECTOR

What are we working with here? Divorce, neglect, domestic abuse…

SARA

Oh! No. God no. I–

DIRECTOR

Deaths, at least?

SARA

My grandmother. When I was six.

DIRECTOR

Is that it?

SARA

That’s what I’m saying. That’s the problem. I think– I just had a really happy childhood. Like my parents were great–

DIRECTOR

Were?

SARA

Are, I guess. They’re still alive.

DIRECTOR

Dammit.

SARA

Excuse me?

DIRECTOR

That’s the problem with your generation. You’re too damn well-adjusted.

SARA

I don’t really see how that–

DIRECTOR

You’ve been coddled. Sunscreen and seatbelts and bike helmets, “mental health” this and “self-care” that. What happened to trauma? What happened to turmoil? What happened to the good old-fashioned tortured artist? Can you answer me that? (Beat.) Close your eyes.

SARA

What?

DIRECTOR

That’s all you’ve got, isn’t it? The dead grandma?

SARA

I guess?

DIRECTOR

I need to start doing these auditions A Chorus Line-style. Close your eyes. Picture your grandmother.

SARA closes her eyes.

DIRECTOR

What do you see? What is she doing?

SARA

Um. She’s… sewing.

DIRECTOR

Go on.

SARA

She had this big white sewing machine, and she used to make dresses for me. I mean one time she made a dress for me. She lived in Florida; I actually didn’t see her that much. But that’s what I always picture when I think of her, her–

DIRECTOR

Sewing.

SARA

Yes.

DIRECTOR

Good. Now… picture the needle slipping from her hand. Picture her hunched over her worktable, coughing piteously. Like this: (He coughs piteously.) Picture her on her deathbed. Still coughing. Growing weaker, weaker… And now: in her coffin. In the cold dank ground of the graveyard, slowly withering away. Her frail fingers covered in maggots; her desiccated, rotting–

The DIRECTOR’s cell phone rings. He clasps it to his ear, listens for a moment, then covers the speaker to speak to SARA and TIM.

DIRECTOR

I have to take this. Thirty seconds.

TIM

Thank you thirty.

SARA

Seconds.

The DIRECTOR exits. SARA and TIM look at each other.

SARA

Wow.

TIM

Wow.

A beat. Then SARA bursts out laughing – that sort of astonished laughter that is almost indistinguishable from tears.

TIM

You, okay?

SARA

I’m just still trying to process that.

TIM

It was a lot to take in.

SARA

No kidding.

A beat.

TIM

Do you think it– helped?

SARA gives him a look.

TIM

What?

SARA

You’re joking, right?

TIM

Did it not?

SARA

… No, yeah. Not really.

TIM

That’s too bad.

A beat.

SARA

Okay, am I just insane?

TIM

Huh?

SARA

Or was that insane? Because I feel like that was insane. But you seem to think it was pretty much par for the course, potentially helpful even–

TIM

I mean, no, it was weird–

SARA

Weird! He described my grandmother’s rotting corpse!

TIM

Yeah…

SARA

He expressed disappointment at the fact that my parents aren’t dead!

TIM

… Yeah.

SARA

And just the way he directs– This is where you breathe. This is where you cry. God, every single–

SARA takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself.

SARA

Sorry.

TIM

No, I get it.

SARA

But you don’t mind.

TIM

I mean. He has a clear artistic vision.

SARA

That’s one way to put it.

TIM

But isn’t it kind of a relief? To have all the acting choices and character work and whatever taken off your plate? To just do what you’re told and that’s all you’re expected to do?

SARA

I… don’t know that I’ve ever thought about it that way.

TIM

It’s great. It’s like high school. That was like the best time ever for me as an actor.

SARA

High school.

TIM

All the applause, none of the responsibility, guaranteed the lead in every production?

SARA

Wow. That… could not be more different from my experience.

TIM

I actually didn’t start acting until junior year. But then I tore my ACL playing football and they were holding auditions for Romeo and Juliet, and I thought, “Why not?” And I got Romeo.

SARA

Wow.

TIM

No, yeah, I couldn’t believe it. Because I didn’t prepare anything; I just kind of hobbled in there and read the sides cold, and it was written in like Shakespearean, so I had no idea what I was saying, and I stumbled through like half of it. But I must have been pretty good. Because I got Romeo.

SARA

You mentioned that.

TIM

Right.

SARA

… How many boys were in your high school’s theater program?

TIM

I don’t know, why?

SARA

No reason. (Beat.) Okay– I need to focus.

SARA paces a few steps away and begins rehearsing under her breath. She ignores TIM as he continues to mull over her question.

TIM

Maybe three, four? No, three; Caden moved…

SARA (as WOMAN)

Suddenly I am so unsure of everything. Suddenly everything is turned upside-down. And– just…

SARA tries yet again to cry. She thinks about her grandmother. Which makes her think about the director’s description of her grandmother. She makes a face.

SARA

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to think about my grandmother again without thinking about– maggots.

TIM

So, think about something else.

SARA

Like what? This must be the only career in which not having had a horrible childhood is a professional liability.

TIM

Okay, well–

SARA

Writing, I guess. Writing too.

TIM

What do you usually use when you have to cry on stage?

A beat.

SARA

I’m trying to think. The last time I cried onstage… The last time I really cried, and it didn’t feel like acting in the slightest…

TIM

Or just any time.

SARA

It must have been back in high school. Romeo and Juliet.

TIM

You were Juliet?

SARA

… This girl Melanie Daniels-Berceau was Juliet. Melanie Daniels-Berceau was the lead every year. And I was her understudy. Every single year. But after dress rehearsal, Melanie came up to me and told me she had strep throat.

TIM

So, you got to go on!

SARA

You’d think. I was supposed to go on anyway, for the understudy show. My grandad had flown in from Miami to see it. But you know what Melanie did? She didn’t tell anyone else she was sick. On opening night, she just drank some Throat Coat, went around backstage, gave everyone a big break-a-leg hug. And the next day, every single person in the cast had strep throat. And they canceled the understudy show.

TIM

Wait, so you didn’t…?

SARA

No, so my mom thought I should still perform for my grandad. So, she set up a little stage for me in the backyard, with two lawn chairs for a balcony and my ten-year-old brother as Romeo. And of course, it was awkward; it was so incredibly awkward. But I just remember, in the scene where Juliet finds Romeo dead… I don’t know what happened. But I completely lost it. I mean I was bawling. Wracking sobs. It was like a Jimmy award-winning performance, if they gave Jimmy awards for Shakespeare, if they gave Jimmy awards for plays put on in suburban backyards.

And of course, it wasn’t all about Romeo. I had… a lot to pull from right then. But I guess what happened was I realized that maybe it wasn’t all that different. Like maybe my artistic ambitions were my personal Romeo, my personal tragic teenage infatuation. That’s how I really saw it, as a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions. It didn’t even occur to me that it wasn’t real suffering, or that real suffering was a thing you had to have accomplished to be an actor. Maybe that’s a bad thing; I don’t know. I don’t feel like I know anything anymore.

TIM

You sound like your character.

SARA

Please no.

TIM

“Suddenly I am so unsure of everything…”

SARA

But like for the exact opposite reason?

TIM

It’s pretty similar, isn’t it?

SARA

In that…

TIM

She’s… also thinking about her past?

SARA

Well, okay.

TIM

Maybe I’m wrong.

SARA

No, I see what you’re saying. (Beat.) Like she’s scared– that the rest of her life will be defined by her past. And she’s trying not to let the amount of suffering she’s experienced determine her self-worth.

TIM

… Right.

SARA

… And she’s just on the verge of getting this thing she’s longed for her entire life and never had, even if it’s not exactly perfect, something that could make her happy if she’d let it, and she’s starting to doubt that she can move forward. And maybe self-sabotaging because of that, even unconsciously. And… Oh my god. Oh my god.

TIM

What?

SARA

I’ve got it I’ve got it I’ve– Tim, you’re a genius!

TIM

I am?

SARA

No! I mean, sure. I mean– thank you. Let’s run it again.

Enter the DIRECTOR, still on the phone.

TIM

I don’t understand.

SARA (as WOMAN)

No. How could you?

TIM

Oh, wait, no, I wasn’t–

DIRECTOR

Go on.

TIM (as MAN)

I thought you loved me.

SARA (as WOMAN)

I do. I do. It’s not that.

TIM (as MAN)

Then what is it?

SARA (as WOMAN)

Suddenly I am so unsure of everything. Suddenly everything is turned upside down. And– just…

This is where the floodgates open. But just a crack. The DIRECTOR watches, mesmerized. He hangs up his phone without so much as a goodbye.

TIM (as MAN)

Just what?

SARA (as WOMAN)

I’ve seen what happens. After– this. After the ring and the honeymoon and the promises. My father–

TIM (as MAN)

I’m nothing like your father. You know that.

SARA (as WOMAN)

He was just as charming as you are, my mother said. Just as charming as you are– and then–

She breaks down. For real this time. It is a Jimmy award-winning performance, if they gave Jimmy awards for rehearsals, if they gave Jimmy awards to 20-something actresses who never got to act in their high school plays. Silence, for a moment. And then:

DIRECTOR

Good. Let’s move on.

Anna Parker is a sophomore at the Kinder High School for the Performing and Visual Arts in Houston, TX, where she majors in creative writing. Her work has received multiple gold keys and a national silver medal from the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, and she recently placed third in Ringling College's Storytellers of Tomorrow writing competition. She enjoys writing poetry, short stories, and plays.

Play originally produced in The Blank Theatre Young Playwrights Festival, Los Angeles, CA.