EASTON, Pa.(www.lafayette.edu), March 26, 2008 — Jacqueline Macri ’09 (Malvern, Pa.) is a Marquis Scholar majoring in psychology. She recently played the role of Elizabeth Bennet in the Lafayette College Theater production of Pride and Prejudice, which was performed March 5-8. The show was directed by Mary Jo Lodge, assistant professor of English. The following is a first-hand account of Macri’s experiences during the production.
When in rehearsal for a play, there are days, sometimes only moments, when you can feel yourself in the skin of your character; your lines flow naturally from one to the next, and above all, that sense of trying to actively figure out every line as you say it is gone. It is, as if, after weeks of trying, your subconscious has found – and highlighted – the part of your personality represented by your character. It may be a fleeting feeling, but there are few experiences in that setting that can beat it.
In rehearsal for College Theater’s Pride and Prejudice a few weeks ago, I was lucky enough to enjoy many of these moments for the first time with a cast of peers who were all seeking that connection and a director who pushed us to go there. However, though I once thought this was more or less a sign that my character was locked-in and spot-on, the challenges I faced this time upon acting with an audience made it clear that it was only the beginning.
Add an audience to any play that has been privately rehearsed for weeks, and an actor will find that it is never so difficult to retain the focus on the world he or she has begun to live in than when strangers are suddenly observing it. We struggle against the urge to be overly conscious of our every action while attempting to create a bridge between the world of the play and that of the audience.
Should we try to live in both? Be sensitive to laughter (a whole other mental mess--why did they laugh there? That wasn’t a laugh line. I didn’t know it was laughable. Why didn’t they laugh more?), but ignore the whispering in the second row (What are they saying? Is my pocket inside out again or something?)? I knew this was enough to alter the “moments” that are so difficult to hold on to, and in the rehearsals leading up to opening night, I constantly worried that it was very clear that I personally hadn’t mastered the struggle.
In addition, the script called for many of the characters to narrate to the audience, another idiosyncrasy that I feared would only interrupt the few true moments I had found. However, when I could no longer maintain my resistance to this nuance (for fear of my audience-conscious questions to overrun my brain), I was pleasantly surprised to find that this element not only allowed me to connect with the audience rather than resist them, but to add dimension to my own character. As I played with their reactions, I found that I could directly lock them in, relate to them directly with Austen’s words, even laugh with them—and there was nothing I could have enjoyed more.
The experience has reminded me not to lament the loss of the moments I’ve deemed worthy upon an added challenge but to create new ones with the people with which we share our story. Though the presence of an audience challenged the cast to strike a delicate balance between self-awareness and abandon, I’ve found that, in our case, we have not struggled in vain.
