Stage Fright! It's SO Scary!

Well, kids, today's topic is stage fright. One of my actors confided that she gets stage fright and asked me what she could do about it. An actor with stage fright! How unusual. (I hope you detected the irony in that.) All actors get stage fright, some very infrequently and others more frequently. "Well," I said. "Preparation is very important. And concentration on what your goal is in the scene, of course. If you focus on the circumstances of the scene, you won't think of the audience." Blah, blah, blah.

Even vastly experienced, thoroughly prepared actors will, for unknown reasons, sometimes get panicky and go blank before a performance. Although not in that category at the time, I remember when I was in eighth grade I had to dress up as Dolley Madison and, in the first person, give a little speech about myself as the fourth president's First Lady. I had on an exquisite gray satin, period-accurate gown that my mother had made. Definitely the best costume. But when my turn came, I went blank as an idiot's stare!

At the moment, we have a number of aspiring young actors with little or no theatre experience. They've all done film, but very limited stage. The actor who took me aside with her confession is such a one. I felt sorry for her because although as an actor I do prefer film, there is no substitute for the immediacy, energy and joy of performing on stage. So what do I tell these hopeful actors?

I woke up this morning with an insight that made me sit bolt upright in bed: Love your audience. Consider it your job -- and your privilege -- to entertain them. Include them -- not in your scene necessarily -- but in your heart. Welcome them. You need them. Remember: even if they are not yet present when you perform for film, they exist. You have an audience, albeit a future one, when you're on camera. It takes great courage to be an actor. Essentially, as actors we are illuminating the things that unite us as human beings: the sorrows and joys, the common and shared human experience. It is a very noble thing.

There's a lovely scene in the beginning of Ingmar Bergman's film Fanny and Alexander that I just love. In it, a theatre manager has gathered his actors together at the annual Christmas party. He addresses them as beloved family members and reminds them of the specialness of their work. He refers to the theatre as their "little world," a place where people from the bigger outside world may come to set aside their troubles for a little while, to gain insight into their own lives and to feel comforted with a sense of common humanity. That scene never fails to move me. It's bringing tears to my eyes now.

So, to that actor or any other stage frightened performer, I would say this:

Love -- for your audience -- is all you need.

Bye for now!

- Aida