Once on This Island, I Was a Shrub

A call came on my cell phone one afternoon. It was Marcus Walker, the managing artistic director of The Lakewood Playhouse. "Have you thought about auditioning for our production of 'Once on This Island?'" he asked. "No," I said. "Why not?" inquired Marcus. "Because I'm not black," I informed him. "Well, that doesn't matter. We're thinking of having a multicultural cast," he countered.

"Hmmmm," I thought, "I'm not so sure about this." But, whenever a director invites me to audition for a show, I consider it good form to show up to the audition. After all, it is usually meant as a compliment when you are invited to try-outs.

For those not familiar with the show, "Once on This Island" is a tale that takes place on a mythical Caribbean island, populated by dark skinned people. One glance in the mirror made it clear that I didn't exactly qualify on that count. But, it seems that at least one theater director in town thought otherwise.

Apparently, the person whom he hired to direct the show also thought otherwise. "Island" director Julie Halpin offered me a part in the show...as a member of the company who portrayed everything from a light-skinned black woman to a dark-skinned peasant. I even played inanimate objects, such as a gate, a shrub, and a tree.

Oh, and let's not forget some of the other aspects of the show that stretched my skill and imagination. As a minimally-trained dancer (in other words, ballet lessons as a small child and tap dance classes in college), I found myself as a fifty-something "dancer" jumping, twirling and shaking along side kids less than half my age. Age is irrelevant, you say? Perhaps, but let's not forget the injured back and menopausal hot flashes that bring me endless discomfort and pain. But, I danced, I sang (did I mention the sore throat that required antibiotics to heal?) and I blossomed (I played a tree and shrub, after all....)!

There was a valuable lesson to be learned there. We actors are always moaning about how directors tend to typecast us. You know, always casting us in the same type of roles, never letting us stretch our artistic boundaries in new and different ways. I realized that I had kind of done the same thing to myself. I am an Asian actor, a female actor, a character actor....but the common word here is ACTOR.

I once read a quote attributed to Whoopi Goldberg. "An actress can only play a woman. I am an actor. I can play anything." Anything...including a flowering bush.

So, what limits am I putting on myself? What experiences am I denying myself because of those self-imposed limitations? Good questions. What can I do to help rid myself of these barriers? I may not know the answer to that one, but it has gotten me thinking, planning and dreaming. I am seeing past the image in the mirror and exploring what is inside me.

Most importantly, though, when I hear of a new and different opportunity for a role that I am totally wrong for, I may just audition for it anyway.

Our Town, Our Marriage

Long, long ago in the year 2006, I somehow got myself cast in Thornton Wilder's play, "Our Town" at the Lakewood Playhouse.

Don't ask me how that happened. It's a long story. You see, we actors of color usually stay as far away as we can from auditioning for shows like this. "Our Town," which takes place in rural New Hampshire in 1901, doesn't exactly conjure up images of a multicultural society. Well..perhaps there might have been an occasional non-white house servant, but other than that, Grover's Corners, NH is normally seen as a White Bread kind of town.

But, thanks to an enlightened director, Doug Kerr, who sees past an actor's color when casting a show, I found myself playing Mrs. Myrtle Webb, and the only non-white actor in the production. And I am so glad he chose me. But, not for the reasons you might suspect.

No...it wasn't because I appreciated the opportunity to perform in a classic piece of American literature. And it wasn't because I relished the thought of racially integrating the cast, or making a "statement" about what it means to be an American.

It was much more self-centered than that. When I became Mrs. Webb, something beautiful happened. I had the pleasure of playing opposite a wonderful actor named Randy Clark who played my husband Editor Webb. Sparks flew, and we fell in love, both on and off stage. 10 months later, we were married. It was a dream come true.

You've heard all those Hollywood couple names: TomKat, Brangelina, Bennifer? Well, we have become RandAya. Corny, yes. But it perfectly describes how we feel. We both love acting. We love the theatre. We love the stage. Most of all, we love being RandAya.

Who knew that an "old chestnut" of a play that is usually performed by mostly high school drama clubs could bring me such happiness?

Thornton Wilder never knew what a matchmaker he is. He just thought he was a Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright.