Monday I did some backing vocals and a sort of speaky/poem-singy-thing for a friend at a charity gig. It's funny that sometimes the less effort and the less bothered I am about something, the better it apparently is. It went down a treat, with kind comments about having a 'good presence' whatever that means, and how well it worked. However it's easy to shrug off because it was only a little thing as a favour and originally I was only going to be reading it off a sheet of A4, but that didn't feel quite right and almost by accident I learnt it the day before, but was still at the stage where I was getting the words muddled.
Now the first few times you rehearse something you think you know, you're all over the place, (obviously when I say 'you' I mean 'me' or 'I', but I reckon most people are the same in this regard). This is a normal part of the rehearsal process and to be expected. That is, if you have any rehearsal time, i.e. not five minutes beforehand in a broom cupboard under the stairs! It's normal for me in rehearsals to fudge up my lines and then swear and then immediately apologise. I get that out of my system before the performance, but here I started to feel freaked out as there was no time to work through this stage. It's bad enough fudging things up in front of an audience but it's far worse drawing attention to it by apologising - that makes the audience cringe with embarrassment and feel most uncomfortable.
I'm pretty sure that if a performer remains in character, then any stutterings, false starts or line mix-ups or stumblings will probably go unnoticed. I've heard it said that one reason people go to the theatre is for the thrill of the possibility that something can go tits up. I'm not sure I agree. On the contrary, I believe that an audience likes to feel they are in safe hands and can relax; nerves may be a good thing for the actor's performance but it's not so great for an audience to smell your fear (particularly if it affects your bowels). A year or two ago I went to see a friend in a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. Right at the start, one of the actors stumbled over his lines and went "fuck". Had he continued in character, it would have been entirely forgiven. In fact I would have assumed it was a deliberate choice, but - shock horror - he felt the need to apologise. It was toe-curlingly awkward for the audience and we all collectively held our breath while the poor bugger found his place. Like a record played at the wrong speed, the play struggled to find its tempo for probably only a few minutes, but I've always remembered it. It was a good lesson: never apologise.
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