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I read a lot of biographies, autobiographies, memoirs, etc and wonder how the authors remember so much about their lives. I tend to remember snippets, not whole screeds of my life story. Actually, ever since I started writing a journal (which became this blog) in the early noughties, I have regretted not keeping one for my whole life. Mind you, that would mean an awful lot of notebooks. Still…
Of course, in my own simple form of self reflection, there may be a bit of embellishment but I figure that given most of my posts from the past are merely snippets, they maybe pretty accurate. Though I am always mindful of Cecily’s response to Miss Prism regarding memory, suggesting that it can be the cause of trashy novels rather than true.
Regardless, I find these reflections help me write when I have no inspiration for my daily life so here goes.
I feel like I’ve told the origin story of my theatre life a million times but haven’t committed it to paper, albeit digital. Given it led to over 20 years of my life, I feel it should be recorded for…well, me, I guess.
My first foray into theatre came at high school. When it came to sport, every year I played football in the winter and cricket in the summer until a teacher proposed acting classes for Wednesday afternoons for the kids that preferred a more sedate playtime. I realised a lot of girls were signing up for this novel idea so, naturally, I decided to try it out as well.
It turned out that I loved it and was pretty good at it as well. The teacher was so impressed he said I should try it out by applying to NIDA. I didn’t bother. I was having more fun just being a teenager.
Then, a few years later, I was at a party in a house in the quiet, leafy, pensioner-style suburb of Cammeray on the north side of Sydney harbour. I was having a great time, as was everyone else, I assume. I love singing and was belting out Life on Mars along with David Bowie who was not at the party except via the record player.
Once the song had finished, I was approached by a chap called Wim who was so enthralled by my voice he asked if I wanted to be in a musical. I had no idea what a musical was but was happy to pursue it. He told me that someone had dropped out of a production for which he was the choreographer and I would be perfect for the part. And, he said, he could teach me the dances.
That last part is a bit of a joke, really. While I can sing and act, I am a useless dancer. I can’t remember dance moves and I don’t have a lot of rhythm.
How well I remember playing Mr Darcy in Mirinda’s adaptation of Pride and Prejudice and had to dance with Lizzie and recite lines at the same time. I spent every performance splitting my brain between speaking and counting steps while appearing supremely confident and arrogant.
It turned out that I wasn’t alone. Karen, who played Lizzie, was doing the same thing next to me. Without the arrogance, of course.
Still, I thought it all sounded like fun and agreed to it. My very first role, the one Wim pushed me towards, was in an AmDram version of The Boyfriend, playing Marcel. I even remember my very first line of dialogue uttered by me on any stage. It was “But mademoiselle Maisie, you promised to dance the tango with me tonight!” in an outrageous French accent.
It was the first of many firsts.
The acting bug took hold very quickly. It turns out I loved entertaining. I particularly liked making people laugh, something I managed to do regularly and intentionally. A skill that has carried on while the acting stopped. That happened in around 1997 when we folded up our touring company and decided to move to the UK.
I swore that I would never act again, which Adele (a close friend of Mirinda) claimed would never happen and she made a bet with me that I would act again. Obviously, I can’t collect on this bet until I die but, it’s something I have stuck to so far.
Do I miss it? Yes, I do. Sometimes I think back over the many parts I’ve played and smile. It was a marvellous time of my life, being other people, experiencing different lives.
This is Marcel.
Of course, I don’t miss the dancing.
