Saturday, October 4, 2008

A personal sort of revelation

I recently joined an acting class after a hiatus of many years. I attended for about a month before putting up a monologue so I could get a feel for the class and the instructor.

Personally, I loathe monologues, but it seemed a logical choice for several reasons. No one in the class knows my level of proficiency onstage, and no one really wants to go up with someone they've never worked with before and risk embarrassment in front of their peers. In addition, right now my schedule is such that rehearsal with someone else would be very tough to schedule, so in the interest of expediency I chose a monologue from a play titled Key Exchange.

I did my piece and then the instructor and I had a brief dialogue. His first question to me was asking how I felt about the work I just did. I answered that I felt rusty - it's probably been 10 years since I've set foot in a classroom environment. Yes, I've worked on the set, but even there it has been over two years since my last gig. I felt rusty.

"Yeah," he answered dryly. "Rusty like a well oiled bicycle."

I cannot recount verbatim his critique, but, in short, he was very complimentary-- saying I was extremely talented and that I took to the stage with seemingly effortless grace. I took his praise with my usual stone faced countenance. He even commented on my expressionless response to his praise, saying I shouldn't be dismissive in what he was saying because, although he does say it pretty regularly in his class, it seems that genuinely talented people have a way of finding his class, which is why it appears that nearly every critique bears some testimony to the performers' level of talent.

Now, I'll be honest, I certainly enjoyed drinking from this seemingly endless fountain of flattery, but I admit I was skeptical in its honesty simply because of the situation: I am a tuition paying student - my continued attendance is a requisite for the continuation of his school, and, thus, it would seem a scathing review would be un-wise, especially for the premier performance of a plebe. The instructor gave me one suggestion--something I had considered in my preparation, but since it never blossomed during the performance, I opted not to "push it" and simply remain honest and in the moment. I guess that's a good thing, because otherwise, the instructor noted, he really wouldn't have had anything to say.

As I contemplated all of this days later, I found myself wondering if I was giving the instructor a fair shake; is this simply my inability to take a compliment? I was raised with the philosophy of not singing one's praises, and letting the final result do the talking. I try to keep with this school of thought in everything - it is rare for me to proclaim my proficiency in anything - I prefer to, as they say in certain circles, "let the cards speak for themselves." So why is it that I'm always hearing how good I am, but I'm still standing here sans career? I guess I find it hard to take a compliment when my resume doesn't reflect the same apparent level of proficiency that everyone sees when I do work.

Of course, no one likes to examine themselves closely and find the subject wanting, but since I pride myself in personal objectivity (in of itself a contradiction, I realize) I think perhaps I should give my newfound mentor some length of rope with which he may either hoist me up, or hang himself.


No comments: