Moments and Feelings, Or, The Time I Played a Dog in the School Play

Theatre has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. As a kid I was always involved in doing community Christmas concerts and performing skits at family gatherings; but the first 'real' piece of theatre I remember being a part of is when I was in grade 3 and I was asked to be in the junior high production of "Rip Van Winkle". I was a good student who clearly enjoyed music class, but the reason my music teacher (who was the director of the show) cast me was because I was the only one small enough to fit into the dog costume. That's right, my first big break was as Rip Van Winkle's dog.

For anyone who doesn't know the story of Rip Van Winkle, here's a quick synopsis: Rip is a likeable but lazy farmer who has a cantankerous wife, a daughter, and a loyal dog named Wolf. One day Rip and Wolf take a walk into the mountains where they meet a man who gives them a strange liquor that makes them sleepy. Rip and Wolf fall asleep under a tree, and when they wake up 20 years have passed. Rip and Wolf, now old and grey, end up moving in with Rip's now grown daughter. They resume their idle ways except now they are free from Rip's nagging wife. Rip Van Winkle is not really a redeemable character, and there isn't much of a lesson to be learned from his story. In fact, I remember it being some sort of musical comedy... And yes, it is crazy that the dog survives the 20 years, but it meant I had the added acting challenge of playing the senior citizen version of a dog. Trust me, it killed. People found it very amusing.

Oh, but don't get me wrong: this was a serious role. I had to learn blocking and practice my bark, as well as my growl. I had to remember when to make noise and when to be still, and what the appropriate facial expression was for each moment. My costume had knee pads so I could crawl across the stage on all fours and it had these big floppy ears and I had to get make-up done to look like a dog. AND - I was excused from class so I could attend rehearsals with the junior high kids. I loved it. I loved the rehearsals, I loved being with the big kids and I especially loved performing in front of the audience. I felt special.

While this experience didn't quite inspire me to become an actor, it definitely made a huge impression on the 8-yr old me; and it sowed the seeds for a life long appreciation of live theatre. At that age, theatre to me was 'a big deal', and certainly being in a show was a very big deal. And not as much fun as I initially thought - it was actually quite serious and quite a bit of work. Oh, but the payoff! That feeling of making people laugh...I'm fairly certain I was warned not to upstage Rip Van Winkle with my antics.

When I try to recall the first piece of theatre I watched, there is one show that stands out in my mind. It was a local production of "Anne of Green Gables". I don't remember how old I was, but I was young enough that seeing "Anne" on stage was very exciting, and yet old enough that I remember what it felt like to be part of the audience.

There was a particular moment in that production that is the reason I have such a clear recollection. This was the type of production where a curtain was used to open and close each scene. The memorable moment came just after the death of Matthew Cuthbert. A sad moment in any telling of "Anne of Green Gables", this one was rendered poignant by a simple mistake. Matthew Cuthbert had a rocking chair. And when the curtain opened for the scene following his death, his rocking chair was still moving. It was the only movement on stage and probably lasted about ten seconds which was enough to make the whole audience feel it was a moment. In reality this happened because no one noticed the chair was rocking before they opened the curtains. And yet that moment ended up symbolizing Matthew's death (and obviously I'm imposing meaning in retrospect - I wasn't ever that precocious); physically he was gone but he made such an impact, particularly on Anne, that he would always be there. It was also a symbol of mortality; the slow rocking motion leading to the eventual stillness. It was beautiful.

What I think has always stayed with me about theatre are these two things: moments and feelings. To experience live theatre is to share a moment with a group of people that can never be duplicated. And sometimes those moments are the happy accidents, like the rocking chair in "Anne of Green Gables". When I think about why I see theatre now I have to say it has to do with how it makes me feel. Of course I am drawn to a good story, and I'm able to intellectualize the various facets of a particular production, but when it comes down to it I'm always looking for those moments that will move me. Life goes by pretty fast, even when you're not sleeping, and those rare little moments are the ones that really stick.