Blurred lines
It’s strange, this job. A performer gets up on stage and basically commits emotional seppuku in front of a lot of people. There’s the emotional roller coaster within the context of playing a role and, in the process, taking an audience for the ride.
Many friends of mine are excellent at it—whether on Broadway, in the West End, or at home in Manila. Menchu Lauchengco-Yulo comes to mind in her portrayal of Diana in “Next to Normal,” plus Jett Pangan as her long-suffering husband. Ramin Karimloo’s performance as Enjolras in the “Les Misérables 25th Anniversary Concert” is one I will not soon forget. And Idina Menzel as Elphaba in “Wicked”? From her entrance, the entire audience at the Gershwin Theater was either in awe or in tears. I was both.
Then there are the concert performers. I love Jed Madela for the punch that comes from his heart as soon as he opens his mouth. Bamboo, whether exercising restraint or bursting forth, grabs you and doesn’t let go. Rachelle Ann Go—well, I’m just a huge fan.
How do these amazing performers do what they do? When playing a mentally ill person, an alcoholic, a prostitute … or just singing an emotionally difficult piece, how do they keep from driving themselves and the people around them insane?
Some meditate, exercise, pray. Some might hibernate. Others play video games.
Smashing therapy
That’s what I did to recover from doing Fantine in “Les Miz”; BioShock was my therapy. There was nothing like smashing the head of a Splicer with a monkey wrench to take away the pain.
It was important to return to my everyday world as quickly as possible, maintaining a separation between what was real and what wasn’t. The lines at times are blurred, with me not always knowing where one ended and another began.
In a romantic clinch with a leading man, were the emotions I was feeling for real? Or were my character’s emotions seeping into my own? These questions made for much confusion. How do they keep from driving themselves and the people around them insane?
It has happened at least once to everyone, whether they admit it or not. Problem is, performers’ personal dramas affect the people around them. Thankfully, I got better (I’d like to think so) as I got older.
Dragging others into the vortex of doom that is your non-work-related telenovela isn’t fair. I’ve been pulled into these sob stories. I’m a sucker for stuff like this.
Advice
I know director-friends who refuse to hire vortex-wielding actors. If there is any piece of advice I can give, it’s this: Please don’t be the type of performer that sucks all the air out of a room. Be the type that brings joy and light into the workplace. If you need a good cry, do it in your dressing room, your sacred space, and do employ the company and advice of friends you can truly trust.
Once you hit your professional space, let it be just about your work, as the collaborative result is greater than the sum of its individual parts. You owe it to the people you work with to help in the creation of a positive work environment.
In other words, don’t s*** where you eat.
