Friday, May 6, 2011

Arthur Laurents (indirectly) Changed My Life

ROSE: Anybody that stays home is dead! If I die, it won’t be from sittin’! It’ll be from fightin’ to get up and get out!

The first show I was ever cast in that wasn’t performed in a cafetorium was “Gypsy” when I was 12 years old. The day that I got up the nerve to audition for that show was the very first day of the rest of my life.  My childhood can clearly be delineated as either “pre-Gypsy” or “post-Gypsy”.

The production was performed at an all-girls Jewish sleep away camp and it was so low on guys (which were driven in from the boy’s camp down the road) that I played both a child and his own adult counterpart. During the transition scene after the song “Baby June and Her Newsboys/Let Me Entertain You” when the boys (and Louise) are supposed to kick and shimmy in a strobe light until they are ultimately replaced by their grown-up versions of themseves in a big “ta-da!”, I was directed to stand still.

We performed the show in a muggy, bug-infested open-air theater in the God-knows-where-mountains of Maryland. Tonight, when I heard the news tonight that Arthur Laurents had died, I pictured myself as I was back then- in knickers and peach fuzz, quietly raising my hand in an effort to keep the gnats out of my eyes. Our Mama Rose was a chubby 14 year-old with braces, our Louise was a freckled meeskite with pigeon toes, our Herbie was the only boy whose voice had changed. We were a gaggle of freaks and I didn’t mind a bit. These were my people.

The best part of being cast in the show that rehearsed and performed at the girl’s camp was that I was excused from all sports-related activity for the day. Every morning I would wake up at the boy’s camp, eat breakfast, make my bed with perfect hospital corners and then I was out of there until dinner. “Sorry, shirts v. skins soccer; I can’t- I have rehearsal.” Being in that play gave a definition to my idiosyncrasy. Being in that play officially made me special. I was fay, I was unattractive, I was fat, I was awkward, and I was home.

As I have grown, “Gypsy” has remained a prominent fixture in my life. My first paid acting gig was in a dinner theater production of the show in Baltimore. I saved up all of the money I earned from that job so I could buy Christmas presents that year. When “Gypsy” played on Broadway with Patti LuPone, I was so enamored with the production that I would work the coat check in the lobby of the St. James Theater just so I could stand in the back of the auditorium to watch Act 2.

I have spent 15 years trying to fully determine the nuances that Arthur Laurents inflicted upon the men, women and children in that show.  And I must remind myself that although Laurents is no longer with us, Madame Rose and her Toreadorables will never die, for that is the legacy of his particular brand of art. Somewhere in the world, it’s 8PM and, because of Arthur Laurents, a star is being born.

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