Posted: March 9, 2012 | Author: emmaweinreich | Filed under: Uncategorized | Entry to the theatre was ignominious – on the first try I walked straight past the door. It was tucked into the jumble of oddball shops and galeries in the jigsaw streets behind Victor Hugo. Round two, a glimpse of empty wooden boards, some slick modern photography, floor-to-ceiling black curtains – and I had stumbled into a tight little circle of chairs and it was time to introduce myself.
There was a directorial type in a dark coat and blue scarf, and Fabrice dripping snark and confidence in buzzed hair and skin-tight red pants. There was a sweet shy girl who made me think of Zooey Deschanel with a paper rose in her hair. She wouldn't stop leaning forward when she spoke. There was a snappy grey-haired lady telling people not to mumble, and then really everyone in between. It was the Wednesday night meeting of the Theatre Association.
After my brief hello, Margaux hurriedly tried to explain to me what to do, but there really wasn't time. Someone was already right up next to me, motioning with both hands as if shoving a big pile of snow into my lap, yelling YAH. It didn't matter. I turned around to my right and yelled YAH at the next person. It wasn't because I wanted revenge. I had found myself in the middle of an energy drill. Simple in principal, goofy in practice, and uniquely terrifying if you aren't ready for it. The game : sounds accompanied by actions get passed around the circle. In this version, if the person on your right YAHs at you, you can YAH at the next person, or ZAP to someone across the way. You can BING (shield) or BONG (deflect) and SHWING skips a person. You can also call a rodeo – sending everyone galloping off to find a few place in the circle.
Falling into the room was like falling onto an escalator. I was swept up by the familliar rhythm of warm-ups, making circles, paging through photocopies, feeling itchy through just a senence more than you can bear of instruction. The folding chairs kept floating around the room the way they do in black box theatres, and so did words like energy, intention, and diction. It wasn't scary – I was a well-oiled cog in the warm-up game machine. I felt slick. I'm a stranger and a foreigner and I'm sailing through the elimination round no problem.
Some people are naturals at energy. I came to it the hard way. The road was long and littered with pimple cures, forced bonding activities, high school acting classes, and undiagnosed cardiac arrests when called upon to do something silly in front of a room full of people. This time, when the room started to buzz it was a friendly force, a scent of wood floors and lemon.
It's taken me I-don't-know-how-long to learn to stand confidently in my place when a stranger tells me to make a circle, instead of dragging my feet against whatever unknown horror is about to be unleashed. And it's taken me seven months to stand that way in Grenoble. It's March and I'm finally shoulders-loose, feet still, weight balanced, chin up. I'm in my place in the circle.
RODEO.
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