The world on the stage

July 6, 2006

Dear Darci,

Thank you for inviting us to Springfield to see you in "Rumors." I had seen a high school production in 1999 and enjoyed the pandemonium.

I was relieved that your production, like the high school one, deleted most of the bad words. Your grandparents would have had trouble listening to them, especially coming from your mouth. But thank you for reciting the missing words for the rest of us while they were out of earshot.

You and the rest of the cast were terrifically assured. Not assured for college actors. Assured. No one seemed self-conscious. Maybe that's what separates you actors from the rest of us.

Learning some of your actor tricks was enlightening. Like not visiting the rest room before you go on stage so as to add a bit of tension to your performance. Who knew Marlon Brando just needed to pee?

I saw that the reviewer for the Springfield newspaper criticized Missouri State University's Tent Theatre for programming crowd-pleasing plays like "Rumors" and "Footloose." Being an actress means your work will be publicly examined, occasionally ruthlessly.

Here are a few observations from people who love you.

You were concerned because the opening-night audience laughed more than our audience did. Maybe that's because the cast was trying to make us laugh harder than the opening night audience did. You can try too hard.

DC thought the actor who plays Lenny was copping Jackie Gleason's Ralph Kramden, the blowhard bus driver from the old TV series "The Honeymooners." So did the Springfield newspaper critic. I thought he had thrown in some of comedian Lewis Black's thunderstruck schtick. Schtick can't beat real emotion.

The actor who played Ernie, the therapist, seemed to be channeling Martin Short's character Ed Grimley. It's OK to steal from other actors. Just don't let the audience catch you doing it.

Christian Slater wasted half his career aping Jack Nicholson. Congratulations for not falling head-first into that trap. Congratulations on being yourself on-stage and off.

In the sixth grade I portrayed Casey Jones in a musical that somehow never made it to Broadway. After the curtain I asked a cute girl named Linda if she liked the show. She made a face as if she'd eaten a Sour Ball. That, not coincidentally, was the end of my theatrical career.

Actors are famously insecure, but you seem immune to that particular pox. That applause and approval aren't your primary motivation is a good sign in whatever you do.

The stage is a world apart from the world in which most of our lives are spent. That world is summoned every night by a mysterious alchemy that induces players and audiences alike to believe the unbelievable. It's wonderful if this is magic for you.

Love, Uncle Sam

Sam Blackwell is managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.