The Performer and the Role

There is something I have had to struggle with as an actor for years. It frustrated me at first, even kept me from really wanting to perform. It disgusted me, frightened me, and disillusioned me. How could I play that person on stage?

There is also something that audience members struggle with. It frustrates them, and even keeps them at arms length from the performer. It creeps them out, scares them, and even frightens them away. Of course they are that person in real life.

The distinction between performer and role is a tough one to find. I first started thinking about it when I went to see a production of Miss Saigon in Seattle almost ten years back. It was an event focused at educating young actors and giving them an inside look at theater. We all came in early in the afternoon, were given a chance to rehearse numbers from the show with the music director and had a pizza feed. But the part that still sticks with me today was the Q&A session with a few of the actors. For those of you who don't know, Miss Saigon is written by Boublil and Schönberg (the creative team behind Les Miserables), and chronicles the life of a young Vietnamese girl who is forced into a life of prostitution, falls in love with an American soldier, bears him a child, and ultimately commits suicide. Horribly uplifting.

This show has a role in it that frustrated me to no end. It is that of Jane, the American soldier's wife in the US who comes to Vietnam and meets the prostitute and dukes it out for her husband. This role was played by a lady who taught me a lesson that I still think about to this day: The performer and the role are separate things. While she may not have said it so succinctly, the heart of the matter is there. We often get caught up in the idea that actors are the characters they portray.

Before you start arguing, I will grant you one concession. Every role I play has a part of me in it. Whenever I take on a role that has been played for decades or centuries, I have to find my voice through it. I find that kernel of truth that resonates with me through the character's bad choices or terrible fashion. I need to be able to show an audience who the character truly is, and therefore I must find a way to make that character me (or make myself the character). But ultimately, they are just that. A character.

I recently watched the documentary "I Am Divine" about the late, great drag performer. He made a brilliant point during one of his interviews where he noted to the host that he did not show up in drag because that was his "j-o-b" and not who he really was. He insisted that Divine was in the closet and a couple of suitcases rather than on the show that night. This really struck me. A performer as iconic as Divine made a distinction between himself and his female character. This distinction has been made throughout the centuries as such famous actors as Marilyn Monroe and Lady Gaga. People who are willing to create a character that sells in order to maintain some semblance of themselves to share with their friends and family.

Once all of that had stuck in my mind, I started thinking about myself and how I act around those I love and trust versus those I work with and spend time with on a daily basis. I realized that even I put on an act when I'm at work. I'm all smiles and caffeine, and would-you-like-an-extra-shot-in-that-drink. But when I'm at home I'm more genuine and listen more carefully. Is this necessarily a bad distinction to make? I grew up in a society that said that having two faces was a bad thing. I took this to heart. But then what that actress in Seattle said to me all those years ago changed that in my mind. It is okay to put on a facade if it is for the use of a character. If I am using that effervescent person to put a smile on someone's face and brighten their day, I'm all for that. In contrast, if I am cast in an opera or any other show in which I must play the villain or the unsavory character, I am more than willing, because that character helps the plot and can, in and of themselves, teach a lesson.

Now, all of that aside, if I were to only be that person, that persona, I would have a problem as I wouldn't ever be able to fully participate in a discussion, or comfort a friend, or cut loose and enjoy a party. But I need to know, for my own sake, the difference between me and my character.

Whenever you meet a performer, get to know them as they are, not as the character they portray. I had that issue with the actress from Miss Saigon. Even though she was the one who taught me the lesson that shaped me the most in my high school years, I couldn't distinguish her from that person I remember from the balcony of the 5th Avenue Theater. This past Summer I spent several weeks as a music director for an elementary-aged musical theater camp and worked one-on-one with many of the office workers and administrative helpers at our parent company. As I was helping to pack up the van on the last day of camp for the summer I struck up a conversation with the lady who was packing it with me. Turns out she had a higher-level degree in voice sciences and had been on a national tour with a show and had Broadway credits. She even mentioned that she had been in Miss Saigon at the 5th Avenue Theater years back. It took me by surprise that the middle-class working mother I had been working alongside all Summer was the lady who inspired me as a high schooler.

Do not be fooled by the characters we play. Us performers like to put on an act to shield ourselves from the hurt and pain we know will happen to us as humans, but take the time to get to know us and you will find people as normal as the rest of humanity. Dig through the roles we play to find the performer underneath. You may be surprised.

"Fat Opera Singer"

Read this first *Language Disclaimer*: http://everydayfeminism.com/2013/10/lets-talk-about-thin-privilege/

While this article is aimed at women, it applies to men as well. It is a very interesting article, and I agree wholeheartedly. I often feel like I have to explain myself to the cashier at the grocery store simply because I'm buying a couple frozen meals to have on hand in case I need something fast before a rehearsal. I have been told by flight attendants that I need to buy a second seat for myself the next time I fly. I have had people laugh at me for walking around with a McDonald's bag when that was the only food I could afford before going to work.

Ms. Fabello makes some great points about privilege in general and the responses to fat- and skinny-shaming. However, she forgets to note that eating disorders aren't only for thin people. I am considered to have an eating disorder because I stress-eat and I often feel "addicted" to food. I also have hypothyroidism and have been told for a very long time that I am not as good as I could be as a human because I'm overweight. Now, these people that have mentioned my weight to me may have had very good intentions (teachers, friends, family members, etc.), but by pointing out that I really should do something about my weight if I was going to make it in this world it made me feel like I was less than I should be.

This same idea comes to play as an opera singer. Read this article before continuing: http://www.npr.org/blogs/deceptivecadence/2014/05/20/314007632/in-2014-the-classical-world-still-cant-stop-fat-shaming-women

What is disheartening to me about that article is the fact that Miss Erraught is by no means obese. She is a full-figured women, but can anyone tell me why that is bad? When did someone's weight become the deciding factor over whether someone was healthy? Or even if they are talented? This issue has come to a head in my own life while I follow the Barihunks blog. There are some seriously talented singers on this blog; there are some that I would challenge in terms of technique, but there are many talented singers on this blog. However, I have recently realized that the Barihunks have been fat-shaming me inadvertently. Here I am, holding them up as the pinnacle of what an operatic baritone's body should be, all the while feeling like crap because that is not what I am.

The conclusion I have come to after 24 years of feeling sorry for myself and not feeling human because of the culture in which I live is that I am myself. I am exactly what I am supposed to be right now. I have also realized that I am nowhere near the health I should be in at this point in time. When I see friends rock climbing, I realize that I could not do that because I have no upper arm strength. I see friends walking everywhere and enjoying it, but I nearly died after a 2.45 mile walk yesterday and had to take the bus home just so I wouldn't faint. This is where I am: I need to be aware of my health, both for my own sake and the sake of my career.

I am in a perfect place to do this. I live in Missoula, Montana, where being outdoorsy is cool. People are constantly biking, running, walking, jogging, anything to be outside and exercise. I live within minutes' drives of hundreds of hiking trails. I am poised for a health shift, and I am working hard at that right now. I am tracking the food I'm eating, how much exercise I'm getting, even being aware of how much sugar I'm intaking (this is a big one as I work at Starbucks... those coffees sure stack up!). This is not because I feel shame for being fat anymore. In fact, I'm rather glad I'm obese. I'm rather vain and can only imagine how narcissistic I would be if I had our culture's idea of a perfect body. Instead, I take myself where I am and see myself getting to the health level at which I need to be.

Keep me honest. Ask me what I had to eat today. Check up on my water intake, how much sleep I'm getting, what I'm eating for snacks, and whether or not I'm exercising. I need the help to stay on track to get myself healthy and able to keep up with my friends and family.

Fat-shame me all you want, but "I'm big, [not so] blonde, and beautiful."