I just had one of the most profound theatrical experiences of my life. Incidentally, it was simultaneously the most painful theatrical experience I have endured to date.
It made me question my definitions of professional theatre and community theatre. It made me analyze my own status in the theatrical world. It made me question my personal responsibility in each show that I agree to do. The experience showed me that certainly in my case, in my misery I love company. I came face to face with a very ugly person; and that person was looking back at me from the mirror. I have decided that I don’t ever want to be that person again and I will take the necessary steps to avoid that in the future. However I do believe that I am to some extent a product of my experience.
My college experience, it just so happens, is that I graduated from the University of Arizona with a Bachelors of Fine Arts in Musical Theatre. That may not seem like such a big deal to some people but when I graduated in 1996, the University of Arizona was one of four schools offering the Musical Theatre program and was considered the very best of the four. Academically, I graduated Magna Cum Laude. However I was nearly removed from the program the year before my graduation and I was placed on “probation.” It was an exceptionally competitive program. I started with one hundred classmates and graduated with eighteen. Some of my classmates dropped out due to the pressure, some were cut from the program. They didn’t meet the professional standards of the University of Arizona. I did, but just barely.
So when I moved to Chicago to begin my professional career in acting, my illustrious BFA opened many doors, but I went to auditions with the label of “probation” under my skin. I was “just barely” good enough to be a professional. So when I fell in love and married and was wooed by white picket fences and 401k’s, I left professional theatre. I thought I’d never go back because my wonderful professors at the University of Arizona had told me that women were a dime a dozen in the acting world and that my career would be over at thirty-five.
I was divorced single mother at thirty-nine when my four year old son said to me one day “Go sing Mommy!” I sang to him all the time, but he wanted to share Mommy’s pretty voice with whoever would listen. Much to my amazement, there were plenty of people who wanted to hear me sing. How impressive that no one seemed to care I was past that expiration date of thirty-five! I didn’t use a professional agent; If there was a festival I wanted to do I simply contacted them, told them what I sang and they either had me come or they didn’t. Sometimes I got “hired” because someone had seen me somewhere else. If I got paid a little cash or even given food I was thrilled; but it was icing on the cake. I was singing and performing just because I wanted to do so. I did not consider myself a professional. I no longer auditioned or had headshots or promotional material. I still had my 401k job after all, that was my “profession,” not singing or acting.
Pretending that an exclusive degree with honors from a prestigious university somehow stopped being relevant to my distinction as a theatre professional was probably one of my first mistakes that contributed to my recent profound and painful experience. It is a fact I was trained to be a professional performer despite my probationary talent level.
Talent is subjective; there are many actors in the world I would classify as unbelievable who are getting paid top dollar to be awful performers. Likewise there are people who are remarkably talented performers who do not or will not collect monetary compensation for their performances. If we go outside of the artistic world, it is generally accepted that your training is the basis of your level of professionalism. You cannot be a professional doctor or lawyer without the required university degrees. You cannot be considered a professional carpenter without the necessary years of practice to acquire and cultivate a high level of skill and precision. The training however is not everything. An unorganized lawyer or a doctor with a lousy bedside manner is going to be considered less professional.
I was very lucky to have gone through my recent profound and painful experience with a very good friend. We had many conversations about what the defining factors of professionalism are. She articulated that
professionalism is defined by a code of ethics and rules of etiquette. Knowing who you want to be and having a personal set of guidelines to achieve your goals defines you as a professional. Therefore the performer who makes a point to be on time to rehearsal, to know their lines and is pleasant to the cast and crew shows a strong work ethic and gracious etiquette.
I have heard it said that in this day and age, it is difficult to clearly delineate the line between professional theatre and community theatre. I do not think that the line is blurred at all; however theatres are cautious to utilize the label of Community theatre because it has been given a negative connotation and is often snubbed by those people who would like to consider themselves “professional.” Thanks to my recent experience, these snobs would instantly lose my respect. In my opinion community theatre may in fact be more important than professional theatre.
Community theatre as I have now come to define it is theatre for the community by the community. In the most amateur of settings, these are people who love the art of theatre so much they are willing to volunteer their own time to gift it to the community. These same people do not have the benefit of training and therefore have so much more to risk before their peers and yet they do it anyway. This is bravery that demands respect, and anyone who snubs it is in my opinion a hypocritical coward. In the most amateur of settings the community theatre performers and crews may not have the same level of work ethic and there may not be strict rules of etiquette. This is understandable given that these people are usually volunteering their time.
A Community Theatre must be more relaxed with their crews and performers to accommodate what the people are able to give and they must be willing to make due. The beauty of community theatre is that they do in fact make due. The show goes on regardless of the lead’s toothache, or the supporting lead not showing up due to some unforeseen calamity. The show goes on whether there is a standing room only, or only one cast member’s immediate family is in the audience. The community theatre show goes on because those people have a true love for the theatre, for the show and for the community. The professional in a contrasting worst case scenario goes on just to get paid. The professional theatre is the one that will cancel a show if they don’t have a certain number of audience members. A professional theatre doesn’t make due.
That is not to say that the professional theatre is the bureaucratic villain.
Professional theatres don’t make due, they make it happen. The professional theatre has a clear vision and they hire the right people and raise the funds to make that vision a reality. When my professors told me that as a woman I was a dime a dozen in the musical theatre world what they were telling me was that I had better fit into the vision of the show I auditioned for, because if I didn’t the professional theatre would be forced to find someone who would. It is also a reality that in professional theatre, a performer and crew member is replaceable. On one hand if a performer or crew member does not show a level of ethics and etiquette that matches and makes the vision, they will be replaced. Outside the artistic world employees that are not meeting their job requirements are also replaced. On the other hand, if the performer or crew member is offered another job it is respected when they leave to pursue other opportunities.
Respecting that I am a professional actor who is replaceable is the second mistake that I made that contributed to my misery in my recent theatrical experience. To offer myself some defense I would have to say that I am a product of my environment.
The American environment of which I am part loves to glorify the martyr. Revered Catholic Saints are predominantly martyrs and Jesus Christ is the ultimate martyr suffering for days to redeem the horrible human race. Though we claim to separate the Christian Church from our States we are a nation that thinks suffering is a good thing. Also, I was raised like most American children that promises were to be kept. If you agree to do something and then fail to do it, then you are not an honorable person.
Now couple that American upbringing with my college experience. The professional performer in training is told over and over again that we must “pay our dues.” We are told that we cannot expect to be paid when we first enter the theatrical world. The professional theatres must be given time to evaluate a young actor’s professionalism and we must build up our resumes. I was told that I shouldn’t turn down any performance opportunity. To do so was to risk being black balled as unprofessional. To some extent I do believe that theatrical dues need to be paid. Regardless of talent level, I think it’s perfectly acceptable for a professional company who has never worked with me before to cast me in the chorus to see if my own ethics and etiquette align with their vision. However, I can’t be threatened anymore with resume credits, those are a non-issue.
A resume credit really isn’t as important as a performer wants it to be. The truth is the idea that I shouldn’t turn down any performance opportunity is in direct conflict with the fact that I am replaceable.
In Community Theatre however, you don’t replace people; you make due. As disappointed as I am in myself for my distinct lack of professionalism in my recent theatrical experience I cannot lay the blame completely at my own feet. Community Theatres should honor the bravery of their casts and crews by proudly taking ownership of the term Community Theatre. If they are able to monetarily compensate their casts and crews and they want to then they should. However it is very clear to me now
monetary compensation has very little to do with professionalism and certainly nothing to do with professional theatre.
I did get paid to do my recently theatrical experience that was so profound and painful. Albeit a quarter of what I was promised, but I did get paid.
Allowing money to be the basis of my definition of professional theatre was yet another mistake I made. The sum I was originally promised was attractive to say the least and my expectations were running as high as the dollar amount. The company that cast me led me to believe that they were a professional company. However it became quickly clear that there was not a cohesive code of ethics, there weren’t any rules of etiquette and it became painfully obvious that there wasn’t a vision at all. Scenes weren’t being rehearsed, music wasn’t learned and I was told over and over again that they had always been this disorganized and things always worked out in the end. This company made due.
I did not devalue them by categorizing them as a Community Theatre. I thought that I could still do the show and I wanted to honor them as brave individuals of community theatre, but I failed dismally at that. Once again, I cannot lay all of the blame at my own feet. This company did after all, cast me. They set up my expectations first as a professional company and then as a Community Theatre. I was not given the opportunity to be a part of a community performing for my peers. I felt that it was a one man production. One man produced, in addition to directing, in addition to choreographing the dances and the fight scene, in addition to musical direction, in addition to costume design, and to top it all off, he was appearing as the lead. Never mind that this man did not have any training in dance or fight direction and neither read music or knew how to sew. His fight scene was absolutely unsafe and he showed no regard for the integrity of the play by changing lines and important stage notes because he found them to be funny. His idea of directing me was either screaming at me and the other cast members “No! No! NO!” or if I made some type of acting choice, he had to stop the scene (because remember he was my leading man) and make commentary on it. I felt paralyzed as an actor.
Every one of my personal ethics was pushed beyond my breaking point. I certainly should have left when I realized that; but because I had this idea in my head that I had to take every performance opportunity and keep my promises, I stayed. I thought I had an obligation to suffer and I became a very vicious diva I didn’t recognize.
The community who came to see that show was in awe of my performance. Yes I gave them a good performance but it was a shadow of what I am capable of really achieving because I was miserable. And the truth is I did not belong there. My dear and wise friend who went through this experience with me and helped me clarify my definition of professionalism also very clearly articulated, “We might have been good for the show, but we were not good for that group.”
The rest of the cast made due with their over-reaching director, I could not. Sadly, no matter how badly I wanted to be a part of the community of that show the reality is that I don’t want to make due, I want to make it happen. At that first rehearsal when I realized the line had been drawn, the tough truth is I should have said, “You know what, I don’t think I belong here and I’m going to bow out.” They would have made due without me and I am replaceable.
As an addendum to this post I would like to offer my own list of things that I wished I had been told when I was a student training to be a theatre professional. I was inspired of course by the touching blog post made by Callam Rodya which so appropriately went viral. His is the original Things I Wish I Had Been Told in Theatre School and I agree with all of his points and humbly add my personal additions.
Things I Wish I Had Been Told in Theatre School
1. Your training, your ethics and your etiquette in equal measure define you as a professional. If you have these, you are a professional.
2. You do not have an expiration date.
3. Talent is subjective.
4. You are replaceable and this is a good thing.
5. Your resume credits are not as important as you want them to be.
6. Just because a theatre pays you does not make them a professional company. Just because you didn’t get paid doesn’t mean you are not a professional.
7. You do not have to do every show offered to you and you certainly do not have to suffer through a production that contradicts your personal ethics.
While organizing my thoughts on this post I also found these blogs and essays extremely helpful and relevant:
The Meaning of Community Theatre
What Is Community Theatre?
The Negative Connotations of Community Theatre
Defining Professional
