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Backstage at the Passion
part 2
by Feech
Eppie is right up front, narrating something
to another, taller cast member with her face held
aloft to look at them. The position of her face
changes her voice, more so than with others,
perhaps because of the length of her neck. "Ep?
May I interrupt?"
"Sure, Feechy, what is it?"
"C'mere."
Soon the little mule's muzzle is in my face,
tickling with feelers. She is something, I tell
you, even just to have her standing near you. It
remains to be seen what an outside audience will
think of her as Mary Magdalene, but German had no
doubts. In her teen age, it's hard to place a
real human age on her if you don't know her, and
that innocence just makes the Passion seem that
much more current and immediate. Besides the
voice. The voice nearly destroys me. She
whispers, "whut-is-it?"
"It's Dan. He's in a little..."
"Oh, of course," she breaks in knowingly.
"Dan. It's all right, Feech, we can handle him.
Don't worry. Dan knows me." Her hoof-nailed hand
pats the back of mine.
"You sure?"
"_Yes_. And I don't see there being much
choice here, Feechy. Let me handle him. We'll be
fine."
"Good, well, then, that's good then. Let me
just talk to the others."
"You do that. But Daniel and I will be fine.
You let the others know."
"Thank you. I will."
"What's up, Eppie?" It's Michael, licking
his canine lips after taking a sip of something.
"Feech?"
I keep my voice low, just to tell those with
direct physical contact with Dan on stage. The
worst thing for morale right now would be to give
some entire-cast speech on keeping a fellow actor
in line. We don't need anyone to be _subdued_,
here. I could kill all the energy in an instant.
"Dan's a bit uptight, just so you know. Don't
hold anything in, just watch him a bit. Don't do
anything lightly. Let him know you're _there_."
"Sure, can do."
Michael Bix is portraying Simon, and I don't
have to coach him beyond what I've said. He's the
last one I'd want to stifle. Heck, this is the
first time German has been able to say, finally,
"Michael-- (and Michael said, 'Yes?')-- Michael,
just do it." So Michael did, with a vengeance.
No need to reel in Simon any at all. "Just do
your thing. And don't let Daniel forget you're
doing it. Or the rest of us, for that matter."
"Right! You got it. Water?"
"No, thank you. I'm looking for Pilate."
"Wandering around in the back monitoring
booth, last I saw him."
"Thank you..." Why is he back there? What a
night.
"No problems." I can hear the tall Dal-man's
tail swishing excitedly.
"Break a leg, Bix. And you, Hepzibah."
Eppie has a grin in her voice. "You know
what they say about horses and--"
"Yes," I nod and grin, moving away with my
cane out amongst the toes and paws, "I know."
Eppie giggles and I shoulder my way through a
number of familiar body-scents layered over with
costume materials and "Norm" or SCAB make-up.
There is no monitor in the Box Office, since
it's open to the Lobby, so a monitor was set up in
one of the small closet-like rooms where costumes
are usually hung; the Stage and House Managers can
get back here through the backstage area, and
pretty much get all that's going on, with easy
access back to the actors. I slide in through the
open doorway, and feel Kent's robe-sleeve swish
against me, then his hand grasps my elbow.
"Feech. I need to talk to you. Or someone."
"What?"
Kent turns right back into the small room,
urging me in with him. His voice is uncomfortably
close to my ear-- uncomfortably, because Kent is a
good six foot six and he doesn't tend to lean over
like this when he's in a good mood. Which is
almost all the time. So why now... "Listen,
Kent, I wanted to talk to you quick about Daniel.
You're dressed and made up, I notice. That's good
at least. What's wrong? Everyone else is
backstage-- the orchestra'll be getting set now."
"I think I'm going to have a seizure."
Did I say there was nothing I had to do
during the show itself? Where the heck is the
Stage Manager?
"Kent, are you _sure_?"
"I don't know, I don't _know_ but I feel like
it and if I have one on _stage_..."
Kent has long fingers and thin wrists. He
feels fragile when I try to calm him by folding my
fingers into his palm. "Okay. Listen, don't kill
yourself here, you're understudied, but-- listen,
Dan is in no frame of mind to be doing this part
with anyone he's barely rehearsed with."
"I think I'm going to be sick."
"You feel frightened to me, but you don't
feel like you're anything _but_ frightened. What
are you feeling? Really feeling. How can we get
you calmed down?"
There is a long pause, in which he wraps his
hand tighter up around mine, but mostly is trying
to catch his breath. This is just lovely. If I
was sure they hadn't opened the house, I'd yell
out backstage to get the dang Stage Manager in
here, but I'm not sure there isn't the sound of
audience entering, piped through here on the
monitor (which mainly concentrates on the stage
area).
"Tell someone to get the other Pilate dressed
and then come back," he says. Fine. That's what
I needed, a release.
I poke my head out into the general backstage
area and get someone to get Kent's understudy
ready. Thanks be, Pilate isn't on for a few
numbers. But still. Then there's the question of
Dan, who's probably being further bucked up and
calmed down by Angelo, right now. If he gets
messed up as to who he's working with, it'll take
just as much adjustment to get him back into
working with Kent.
Kent touches me on the arm and I follow him
back to the chair he sinks into, for the second
time. "Kent, what's wrong? I know a seizure, you
said that. How do you know? You need anything?"
"No." He has his hands covering his mouth,
now. "Normally I'd be fine. I just can't go on
and I can't not."
"_If_ you are having a seizure, you are not
going on. You are understudied for a reason."
"I _know_ but... I _know_..."
"You're shaking like a leaf. But I don't
recall that being part of any of this, in the
past."
"No." He draws in a long, teeth-gritting
breath. "Um... Larry and Francis came back from
the coast and-- Francis had one."
"Had what?"
"A seizure. I don't know. I saw him with
Larry carrying him up by his shirtfront and it
made me just about keel over. I really feel like
if I go out there again I'll just turn into my
wolf, and I can't."
I didn't know Francis had a seizure transform
condition. Of course, I didn't know _Kent_ had
one until well after I'd moved out here, and we
went to college together for a couple of years. I
bite back the urge to ask what it is Francis turns
into. If this has really triggered one in Kent,
Dan has to be prepared to interact with another
performer as Pilate, and it's probably the most
intense physical interaction he has to engage in
in this production.
"Listen. We've got a few minutes until Dan
is done in make-up. He had to go get Angelo's
help. He had to have some additions made to his
basic. There's been sort of an incident."
"Talk to me about it. Anything while I sort
of get back in stride, here. I feel strange."
"I know." I hope my voice is gentle. It's
hard to maintain any kind of peace in a pre-show
atmosphere. The orchestra is warming up, with odd
bits of shrill harmony in the disjointed bits and
pieces and scales. There will be plenty of people
in the seats, by now.
"Is Francis out there?"
"I... don't know. I didn't hear Larry or
Francis."
"Oh-- sorry. I'm afraid to go out there, you
know. Until I know what I'll be feeling."
"All right. Settle down. With Dan... Well,
he's shaken up, a bit."
"How so? How much?"
"Well... Quite a bit, actually. Had a run-in
with some troublemakers on the way here. It's put
him on his guard."
"Oh..." Kent gives a sort of groan and his
voice drops into his hands again. "And he already
hates me. He's nervous around me as it is."
What is with this Group tonight? I knew this
was an emotional show, but this is a bit much,
even for people I'm used to seeing keyed-up and
shy, like Kent and Dan. Oh, well, great. There
goes the Overture.
It freezes me, for a moment. There's no way
it won't. And... the ensemble falls in with the
instrumental... This is a _show_. And a half.
No, and three-quarters. I can almost sense it
pressing outward onto the guests. Now if Kent
would just be _ready_, we'd all be _ready_, and
for once they could get some real praise for this
thing. If they'd once get through it, I know the
audience response can uplift them for the rest of
the run. They just don't know how _good_ they are.
"Kent, _Darling_ Only Kent, Daniel does not
hate you. Daniel is-- 'twitchy'. Around nearly
everyone. For Heaven's sake, inhale once.
_Slowly_. You're going to make yourself faint
whether you have a seizure or not."
He tries to regulate his breathing, while I
nod approvingly. "Okay," he says finally. "I
think-- I'm not going to shift. I feel-- ill
though." He straightens with his back making dry
costume-robe noises against the chair. "I've
got... a moment... I'll... Yeah, I'll go on. I
don't know if I'll do it _right_, but I'll go on."
I listen to the opening of the show with him,
marking off sequences to his initial cue. "I'll
try to get out front and keep Larry posted on
this. Would that help?"
"Yeah. That'd be good. So I know where the
rabbit is."
"Francis?"
"Yeah. Oh. Yeah, I'm sorry. If I'm
forgetting names _now_, what about when--"
"None of that. You'll be dazzling on stage.
You will also keep Daniel sane. Got that?"
"How?"
"Just do it the way you rehearsed it. And
don't make any false gestures. Just _do_ it. If
you don't, you could spook him. Follow through
and you'll be fine."
"Just do it like Pilate."
"Naturally. Aren't you feeling any better?
Want to get a swallow of water?"
He must shake his head, because there's no
verbal answer to that before he says, "Gabe's
family."
Ah ha. I knew there was something else.
"What about them?"
"Have you ever _seen_-- I mean met-- the
Reverend Carter?"
"I can't say that I have..."
"Feech, I think I'll faint before I go out
there. I've never once met him in person. Only
over the phone. He and his wife, Gabe's
stepmother, _and_ his brother _and_ his
grandmother are in the house tonight."
"What, does Gabe's father scare you? I can't
say I've met him, as I said. Gabe talked about
him once or twice at school, but I don't know much
about him."
"Oh he's-- it's hard to explain. I can't
screw up. I can't. He's--"
I wait.
I believe Kent tilts his head to face me.
"You remember Gabe from before he settled into the
'beest form."
"Of course. You mean the human look, when
he-- well, whenever he had one."
"Yeah. Well, the Reverend is like-- more
than that. More voice, more everything. And he's
the gentlest person you could know. I mean it.
You think I'm exaggerating. I'm not."
I crouch down near the chair, and Kent leans
to put one of my hands on his knee, knowing what I
want to do is make some friendly contact. I'm
beginning to get a bit shook up, myself. Josh,
our Judas, has taken the stage. And I do mean
taken-- he has a sort of intense-lazy drawl to his
speaking voice, and you'd never know it to hear
him sing, but when you know how he talks you know
where that rolling intensity comes from. They're
all good, really. German is good at this. I
wouldn't have envisioned what he's managed to do
with Herod, for example, but when presented with
his version it becomes clear how appropriate it is
for a SCABS/"Norm" production. Put in the
outrageous bits where everyone expects them
anyway, and pretend like the rest isn't even
unusual. He found an actor who's been morphed
into a woman, but has retained a lot of what would
be considered masculine traits. The man has been
having the time of his life, knowing full well that
he's going to turn even a typically overboard piece on
its ear. He's had us all cracked up at one time
or another.
"I don't think you're exaggerating." Poor
Kent. Opening Night, Francis nearly triggering a
seizure in him by pure chance, and meeting his
partner's family for the first time. "But you
know you can do this show. Won't that make a good
impression? Think about it."
He sighs, fidgeting with his robe. He's one
of the few cast members to wear one; costumes were
designed on an individual character basis rather
than a period scheme. "I'm afraid. I hate to say
it, but I am."
"Why."
"I don't think I can explain. You'd have to
meet him, even over the phone he's-- I mean, he's
so..."
"Intimidating?"
His hands stop moving on his knees, so I
imagine he rapidly shakes his head. "No. _Good_.
Nice. Other things of that nature. There's just
nothing I can do to make him mad. He thinks I'm
the greatest thing ever to happen to his son. He
_said_ so. He _said_ so, Feech. I can't go out
there but I have to because I know I'm not
wonderful at all but I can't possibly not do the
show when he expects it and just thinks it's
another wonderful thing about me."
"You can do it, Kent. Get used to people
liking you, okay? Lots of people like you." I
pat his knee lightly.
"I know but.
"Gabe is going to be out there being Caiaphas
and he's not even afraid. And he grew up living
with this man in his house, Reverend Carter raised
him and is his father and you know what he said?
Gabe, I mean? He got ticked off because they were
coming out here. He doesn't want them getting all
supportive of him. His own parents. Feech...
wait, what part are they at now?"
We both listen. "It's okay. Take a moment
and get back into yourself. There are a few
numbers before your first one."
"I can hear that, now. I just forgot... I
just sort of zoned out... I hope Gabe doesn't get
too mad at them for coming out here. I mean, he
wasn't going to stop them or anything. But he's
been so hard on himself for being just who he is
and they get in the way of that, I guess. If I
could just be what they think I am."
"Kent... We don't have a lot of time for
questions like this, I know, but... Where are
your own parents? Do you see them often?"
"No. Never."
"Feel a little shy around them?"
"Well... always did. Help me keep an ear on
the monitor. I'm going to mess up."
"No, you're not. You're fine. I'm helping
you listen, yes. Did your parents give you a hard
time?"
"They didn't really ever get around to that."
"I see..."
"Feech, I've missed them so much. They don't
want to talk to me. I've tried telling them about
Gabe and Jezalyn and they never answered."
Maybe I opened up a bigger topic than I can
safely cover, here. Still, it begins to explain a
lot about his near panic, something I just don't
see in him out of all the times we've worked on
shows. "There you go, Jezalyn will be out there
watching. Keep your mind on her, on the ones who
make you feel calm. If you can't relax and do a
show for the Carters, do it for your daughter.
She'll be so pleased."
"I'll try. Feech, he's such a-- the
Reverend-- he's so-- I'm sorry..."
"No, that's all right, get it out of your
system whether I understand it or not. We can
talk more about it later, if you have to. I get
the feeling you'll be fine with him, though. From
the sounds of it, he really likes you."
"He loves me. That's just it. I tried to be
a good kid, I really did. You have a sister and
your parents are like Gabe's, so you don't know
what I'm talking about. There's just nothing...
and then the Reverend. I mean he's so...
_embracing_. I'll just die on the spot if I do
anything wrong in front of him."
"Kent, I think it's admirable that you're so
concerned about making him pleased. But it
_doesn't_ sound like you need to _make_ him
pleased. Give him a chance to be as accepting as
you say he is. He's Gabe's father, so he's yours
too. Now please get ready to take your cue and
put on a show for your Dad."
He chuckles, slightly. "I guess, maybe... I
guess he is sort of, at that."
"There, you see, then it's only natural that
he's so taken with you. So is the rest of this
Group, and I'd be willing to wager the rest of the
_audience_ would love to see you out there too, or
there'll be a bit of a gap in the Passion."
"Aren't I understudied?"
"Yes, but, ideally, no. Now don't play any
games with Daniel, out there. Play a _part_, but
no games. Sing your heart out, here, how's your
make-up?"
"I'll check it."
"Good. And Kent?"
"Yes." He stands up and smoothes out his
robes.
"I agree with the Reverend Carter, and I hope
I get to meet him after the show. I think you're
a great person to 'happen' to Gabe."
I think the quick huff I get in reply is
enough of a smile-chuckle to count.
"Okay, now, if you could engage in one
transformation into Pilate, and leave the wolf
where she is for now, we'd all be very pleased
indeed."
"I think she'll stay put. I'm human for the
time being. Okay, I'm on. Catch you after."
"You bet. Knock 'em dead."
"Let's hope not."
"What is it with you people and theatre
phrases? Can't I have one cliche taken seriously
tonight?"
"No." He grabs my hand and kisses the back
of it. "Wish me bad luck."
"Break a leg."
He hurriedly exits to the backstage area.
I sit on the floor. For almost an entire
song, I cool my head against the doorjamb, letting
the scuffles and forced, waiting silence of those
backstage sort of drift around and past me.
Finally the Stage Manager pulls me up and asks me
if I'm all right.
"Sure," I tell her, in the midst of other
whispers. "Thanks."
"Feech?"
It's Josh, in a pause within his performance.
I put a hand out to touch him, find the front
curve of his shoulder, and move to adjust. He's
not one who minds being approached physically.
The Stage Manager dashes to replace a prop that
got set on the wrong table on the wrong side of
the backstage. Propmaster must be on the far side
with _another_ crisis...
"Yes? Josh?"
He whispers, not wanting to go into the room
with the monitor lest he be not able to be easily
grabbed and panicked at when it's close to his next cue.
"Dan seems..."
"Yes. I was going to talk to you about that.
There's the matter of the kiss. He ought to be
fine, but keep aware."
"Okay, thanks. I was just wondering. The
audience is eating up every _note_, but next to
him I could feel something."
"Yes he... got into a bit of a fight. Don't
let it worry you right now. Just let him know
it's business as usual."
"Only it's not," Josh whispers. "This is
wild. I didn't know you could pack so much
audience into so small a space."
"Good house, huh?"
"I'd say. Great. Well, I guess I understand
now. Just let me know if there's anything else I
should do out there. I want to be able to cover
for him if anything goes wrong."
"No. You'll be okay. Maybe you could take
hold of his hand, anything solid before you kiss
him. Even when he's good and ready for it, the
light touch might make him jump..."
"Would that bother anyone else out there?"
I think, trying to work out the blocking of
people in my head... "I'm not sure it would... I
don't know for certain..."
"Well, it wouldn't bother me. I'll kiss him
without the hand-hold first, if you don't mind.
I'd like to get him to jump. Makes my part all
that more effective. I mean, I _am_ supposed to
be his best friend, or one of them anyway, giving
him away like that."
"True... But Josh, don't mess with him too
much. He still has the rest of the show to go
after that."
"Don't worry." He pats me on the shoulder.
"You worry too much."
"Oh do I, now."
"You know you do." He leans in, one breath
on my cheek, kisses me, and steps away before I
can snag him with my hand again. "See? You can
barely feel it."
"Go on, Josh. And _behave yourself_. I mean
it. He's been through a lot."
His next whisper is sober, and I have to
listen hard to hear it, since he's a few steps
away. "I understand. You been listening on the
monitor? How've I been doing?"
"You rock, as usual."
"Oh good. Well, here I go."
"Break something."
"I will."
I make my way back out to the audience space,
where the air feels powerfully different, breaths
and cosmetics and Spring-wind-blown theatre-going
clothes all shifting the scent and atmosphere from
players to audience. Daniel is singing. He
sounds good.