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Towards the end of a long rehearsal it gets more and more difficult for me to break character. Indeed by the time a few hours have gone by and it’s nearly time to go home, I am so lost in this new identity’s physicality that it takes more than a hug goodbye from the director to walk a little less like a Ira. The exception being only when Peggy and Ira are dancing. It is strange, the way Ira seems to trip over her own feet (two butches dancing and who’s leading is more of a battle than a question), the way she concedes her masculinity to the older more dominant character of Peggy. It seems that Ira is on the verge of a giggle. I break character when Susan pulls me into her arms. I am all of two left feet and twirling. And I giggle. I am young and femme and so completely lost in the moment that I forget which lines are coming next. I am honest and off guard and it makes Ira more real. I break character and try not to break my heart. How dizzying it is to whirl with a steelier strange facsimile of Verona. . How Rude! - Wednesday, Sept. 22, 2004 - 12:16 PM One small step but no giant leap. - Tuesday, Sept. 30, 2003 - 11:17 AM Where's George? - Thursday, Sept. 25, 2003 - 12:48 PM |
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a Nifty design 
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