by Anna
The Hobbit was the first
professional play I was in, and I loved every minute of it. I'm definitely
auditioning for “Where The Mountain Meets the Moon” in December. I met some
amazing people and got to know amazing actors. I formed great friendships with
fellow Spobbits and learned just how
much time, care, and effort goes into creating such an amazing play. It was one
of the best experiences of my life.
There are lots of things that
being in “The Hobbit” taught me—about the audition process, about being in a
show, and just about life.
Lesson #1: Swords are scary, but
stage combat is not.
Ok, so yeah, having a big, long
sword being swung at you is scary, but not if you know what you're doing. (It
also helps that the sword is blunt.) Stage combat is about looking like you're
meaning to hit someone, and then missing them but looking like you hit them.
That's quite a tall order, which is what makes stage combat so hard. But the
ridiculously obvious cues, blunt swords, and skill of the fight choreographer
and everyone onstage made it totally safe.
Lesson #2: Opening night is the
best part.
I'm in the very first scene of
the show as a hobbit who is very loud and rambunctious until the two adult
hobbits in the scene offer us a story. On opening night, I was super-nervous:
A.)
that my
stick would hit one of the lights (backstage, I was pretty much sandwiched
between a light at head level and a light at foot level) and
B.)
that I would
mess up onstage and forget my choreography and blocking. I mean, we OPENED THE
SHOW. It had to be good.
Then I went out and did my
choreography, and reacted to the story Stephen and Tyla told us, and remembered
all my blocking.
And then I went backstage and the
first thing I said was "That was awesome."
Lesson #3: Go with the flow.
On the first Sunday, I subbed for
Luke, who was supposed to do that show but couldn't make it. Another spider
subbed for Camille, but didn't know Camille's choreography because in our cast,
Caroline does it, so the spider who subbed for Camille didn't need to know it.
(Complicated, I know.) This was a problem because Camille/Caroline's
choreography was vital to the opening, and it wouldn't work with just two
people instead of three. The rest of the opening scene craziness took their
cues from the fight, so we couldn't leave it out. So Nadia (the other hobbit in
the stick fight) and I went backstage with our sticks and came up with a new
fight (this all happened about five minutes before curtain). We came up with
it, practiced it twice, then went out and did it onstage. I reminded myself
that 95% of the audience didn't know what was supposed to happen for the stick
fight, and it wasn't too bad for something devised in the backstage hallway in
ten seconds.
This taught me to roll with the
punches and be cooperative. I just added the event to my list of things I never
thought I'd have to be doing (figuratively; I actually don't have a list like
that) and moved on.
For the Mirkwood scene, I had to
do something somewhat similar. The spider who subbed for Camille didn't know
the choreography for the beginning sequence in that scene, but I did and I was
in the right place to do it, so I did it instead. Probably no one noticed, not
even my fellow spiders. You can't tell who anyone is under those big costumes.
Lesson #4: Be cooperative.
OK, this one is kind of an
offshoot of #3, but it deserves a mention in its own right. The Purple and
Green Casts have different orders for the curtain call, and this different
order meant that I had to come out for the curtain call from a different place
than I normally did, since I wasn't really being Anna-as-a-spider, I was being
Anna-as-Luke-as-a-spider. I really didn't care where I came out for the curtain
call, as long as I got to come out for the curtain call.
The next time we had a show, one
of the Purple Cast members subbed for Simona, a girl on the Green Cast. The
girl who subbed for Simona did all the choreography fine up until the curtain
call. We told her where Simona came out for the curtain call. She said,
"No, I'm going to come out where I usually come out."
I really didn't understand that.
We reasoned with her for a bit, and she finally headed over to the other side
of the stage. The next time she subbed for Simona, she said, "I'm not
dealing with that craziness again. I'm just going to come out from here."
I told her that the order would
be messed up if she didn't come out from there. Maybe it wouldn't matter that
much, but it would mess things up. She grudgingly agreed after three different
people telling her that in different ways. She went over and came out in the
right place.
The lesson I learned from this is
be cooperative. Help your cast-mates out. If the director changes something,
make the change in the real show. If you have to do something different, do it,
don't argue. Don't be the person who messes things up and gums up the works.
Lesson #5: Throw your heart into
it.
At first, I was timid. Everyone
was. We didn't know what spiders were supposed to be like in this show. Then we
learned. I was still timid—I still wasn't sure how to apply what I learned to
what I was doing. I realized that I had the hiss, I had the spider movement, I
had the totally amazing costume, but I couldn't put it together. It reminded me
of a summer camp I had been to, where we had written a fifteen-minute play. I
played the main character. My character's name was Libretto, and I went on a
journey and met three characters: Music, Acting, and Dance. And together we
defeated the villains—something I couldn't do on my own. Without Music, Acting,
and Dance, I wasn't as powerful. The point was, without music, acting, and
dance, the libretto was just words. Music, acting, and dance made it a musical.
So I realized that me as a spider without really acting the spider was like
Libretto, and the acting was like Music, Acting, and Dance—I wasn't as
powerful.
So I threw my heart into it. I
became a spider, not just a person with a cool spider costume. I added menace
to my hiss, and thought spidery thoughts (one of them being Yum, dwarves). I
was the spider.
Yesterday, after the Red Carpet,
Stephen (who plays Gollum and is just supremely awesome), came up to me and
complimented me on my spider-ness.
I was so proud of myself.
Lesson #6: Be in the right place.
This one seems like it goes
without saying, but sometimes you just worry about other actors. I learned this
one during the first dress rehearsal. There was a bit of a problem with the
spider costume racks. When we came off from the Battle of the Five Armies, some
spiders had to go through the lobby, get their shells and helmets taken off,
and go back to the wing they were originally in. These spiders included me and
Simona.
It was stressful. I got my helmet
and shell taken off and went back to the wing. Simona wasn't there. I was
worried about her. She was little and I wasn't sure how well she knew Wheelock.
I wondered if she had gotten lost or something.
I stood near the door to the
lobby, waiting for her, and I almost wanted to go out and look for her. When it
was almost time for curtain call, she finally showed up. This problem was
fixed for the Open Dress. Now we have time to spare between the Battle and
curtain call. I learned that the only thing you can do is be in the right place
and hope they'll show up. That's pretty much it.
Lesson #7: If you're going to be
in a room with nine other kids who are mostly younger than you and a TV, bring
headphones.
This one is pretty self-explanatory.
For Open Dress and Opening Night, I only had my Nook, because I didn't expect
it to get that loud. But it did. They had the movie on pretty much full volume,
and it was a stupid movie at that. It could qualify as the worst movie I've
ever seen.
For my next show, I brought
headphones and my iPod. I had a much more pleasant time in the Spider Room.
Lesson #8: A story fixes
everything.
I saved this one for last because
it's the best one. In Scene One, we are rambunctious hobbit children who fight
with sticks and run around yelling and just generally cause havoc.
When Stephen and Tyla, the adult
hobbits, calm us down, Stephen asks us, "Are you ready for a story?"
We ad-lib lines like
"Yes!" and "Please!" and "I love stories!".
A story calms us down after so
much yelling and running around. A story makes us behave and be good little
hobbit children. Stories fix everything, perhaps the best lesson learned from
this show.
