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Engelhardt |
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Playin' the Wife, Then Moving On |
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How's this for a challenge?
Play your granddaughter!
of TheColumnists.com
If you read Act I, you know that my husband, Ray, a
former drama teacher and long-time community theatre actor, gave
me my first “break” as a stage actress by casting me
as a bag lady.
In my second play I was Mrs. Stanley in "The Man Who Came to Dinner" and my husband played Mr. Stanley. A few months later, he was cast as the lawyer Matthew Harrison Brady in "Inherit the Wind," a play he’d always wanted to do. A week or so into rehearsals, the producer called me and said, “We’d love to have you play……Mrs. Brady.”
Oh, good. I get to play his wife. Again.
It was actually a fun part because the stage manager got local businesses to provide us with great food that we ate on stage every night. In one scene the townspeople come out to greet the great lawyer (Brady), who has arrived in the town of Hillsboro to prosecute a young teacher who tried to teach his students the theory of evolution. Even if you’ve never seen "Inherit the Wind," you probably know it was based on the infamous Scopes “monkey” trial.
My part usually consisted of trailing after my husband, smiling magnanimously and twirling my parasol or trying to keep cool with my fan. But in this scene, while the men folk yakked, I got to sidle over to the bounteous picnic table and partake of the spread provided by the women of the town. Fried chicken…yum… corn on the cob, biscuits. My, my. Who knew acting could be so fattening?
There was just one scene that gave me pause. Midway through the second act, Brady suffers what is believed to be a heart attack. I rush to his side, cradle him in my arms as he gasps, “Mother…” and comfort him by rocking back and forth, saying “Matt...dear God in Heaven! Matt!”
A poignant moment to be sure, but when the actor you’re holding is your real-life mate, it’s downright eerie. But, as some actor once said, “That’s why they call it acting.” Even remembering that didn’t stop my heart from skipping a beat each night.
When "Inherit" ended its run, I decided to branch out on my own….stand on my own two feet…..and audition for plays by myself. I did--and I got a whopper of a part. Actually, two parts. The play was "Dirty Work at the Crossroads," a gay ‘90s melodrama that includes all the usual suspects: villains, heroines, a hero (of course) and a lot of “You must pay the rent,” “I can’t pay the rent,” dialogue.
I played the Widow Lovelace in the first act until I was poisoned and die. Then I came back in the third act as my own granddaughter, Little Nell, age 8. Talk about a stretch. Anyone who’s seen this face up close and personal will know there’s no way an eight-year-old could have all those wrinkles.
The director was one of those people who couldn’t resist sight jokes, which, of course, was why I was playing my own granddaughter. As I walked onstage in the third act, skipping and carrying my Raggedy Anne doll, my mother (who was my daughter in Act 1), cupped my face in her hands and said something melodramatic like “Dear, bright, smiling little girl. How you remind me of my own mother.” As she said the last sentence, she swung my face around to the audience who always recognized me from Act 1 and broke into giggles.
But I got my biggest laugh dying (they don’t say people are “dying with laughter” for nothing). I would take a sip of poisoned tea, start to react, turn to look at my daughter and the villainous Munro Murgatroyd (my poisoner), slump down on the table as my foot kicked a bucket that had been awaiting this very act.
Corny? You bet. But it got a big laugh every night.
By now I thought I was the geriatric version of Sara Jessica Parker, so I went out for a musical. I can carry a tune. I even had a solo in the melodrama, but since I was singing as an eight-year-old, I could be off key and the audience thought it was on purpose. (Smile.)
I was cast as Lottie Child, the mother of Bobby Child in that rollicking musical "Crazy For You." Got to wear glam clothes, jewels, fur coats, jump out of a stage car and berate my son for not listening to me. I even got to tap! And sing! (Thankfully I did both of these in a large ensemble.)
There was just one moment I dreaded in each performance. Now, don’t get me wrong. I do love romance, and who wouldn’t like to have an onstage boyfriend? So why did I wince each time the actor playing my beau sang “Things are looking up” to me? Matter of fact, he burst into that song every time he saw me for the next three years. Oh, yeah….maybe THAT’S why I cringed.
I do wonder, though, about what some playwrights are thinking. They gave Lottie two scenes in Act 1, nothing to do in Act 2, then another scene in Act 3. I mean, a person could grow old (not to mention cold) waiting around backstage! Ah, but it was worth it. The director and choreographer were both terrific. It certainly made me appreciate the amazing process of putting on a play--especially a musical. Something like putting together a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle. Lots of satisfaction, so long as all 500 pieces show up on opening night.
©2005 by Joanne Engelhardt. The photo is from the author's own collection. All rights reserved. This column first posted on Jan. 3, 2005.
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