Age, Arrogance and Assumption

A drama teacher? I had guessed age. Your previous posting was cloaked with that mantle of arrogance. Indeed, it occurred that you may even have been English. Your choice and obvious relish of the word conflict is interesting, for you make no mention of resolution.

You then write that you had hoped for a passionate response from me. I struggled with that choice, eventually choosing not to, as I could envisage a situation where others might become embroiled and hurt by responses, claims and counter claims. That is not my choice of path.

Please do not be sure that I am always a great guy. As with all of us, some think so, others are ambivalent and some detest – perhaps rightly, although, with one or two possible exceptions, I wish that was not so. These lines from the Moody Blues have long been a source of self realisation for me:

And he thought of those he angered,
For he was not a violent man,
And he thought of those he hurt,
For he was not a cruel man
And he thought of those he frightened
For he was not an evil man,
And he understood.
He understood himself.
Upon this he saw that when he was of anger or knew hurt or felt fear,
It was because he was not understanding,
And he learned compassion.

I understand where you are coming from, with your use of the word professional, but would you consider this? A lawyer may well provide the very best defence for a guilty client and win the case for that person. That is, in law, utterly correct and professional, but it has very little do with ethics, morality, right and wrong. Witness the recent spate of overturned rape cases.

And here, I mean no ill will to the legal profession, in fact, had the situation arisen in professional theatre, I would very quickly have sought legal assistance in correcting the problem. But you see, this was not professional theatre, quite the opposite. As you are well aware, those involved in amateur productions are paid nothing. More often than not, they are required to pay a subscription to the particular theatre company and provide props and costumes, quite apart from time and transport costs. The trade-off is the acquisition of skills, the camaraderie of like-minded people and of course, the adrenaline rush of the stage.

My decision to quit the particular play, was taken after several days of soul searching and discussions with friends, both in theatre and other walks of life. I find myself somewhat taken aback, that you should assume there was personality conflict with me, for although I was affronted by the personÂ’s attitude, apart from the odd aside, I was a bystander.

The lines were undoubtedly difficult, especially in the first act, but not insurmountable. Where I fell down, is that I did not have the skills to give my lines and act my character, over the constant arguments between the director and lead actor. I began to question any small ability I had and why, when I was working an average 70 hour week in my career, I needed to place myself in such a hideous situation. It was, for me, rather like being caught in the middle of an argument between a husband and wife – which of course, is fascinating, if you know the particular play.

In short, it horrified me. The stage was a battlefield and although I concede this may well make me unsuitable as an actor, I decided I would rather spend my precious free time with my family and friends. It affected me to the point, that I opted out of beginning rehearsals in another production with a theatre group IÂ’m very comfortable with and a play I really like.

What I detect, in your rational that you would never again consider anyone who left a production of yours, is the sad failure, with all your years of experience, to consider your own possible fault and influence, in someone being forced into taking such a decision.

You state that “Business is business.” I agree. I am the hardest and probably the best @!#$ in my particular professional valley. But I choose to leave that valley, for another place, that nurtures my soul when business is done. For some reason, the shocking tears of the detective in “Lantana,” spring to mind.

One evening, when we were assembled as a cast and crew, a theatre committee member harshly berated us, as if we were school children, I found myself slipping into “Business Mode” and observed the shock on his face at my transformation into a an aggressive, confrontational participant. There were no skills on offer for me to learn – I could have taught him much, much more, but had no wish to do so.

Still teaching? I think it time you reigned in that arrogance, for it seems you may well have learnt all the lines, but missed the subtext entirely. Perhaps we may see another posting from you some day, finishing with the more honourable and graceful – Still Learning.
All Good Things
Greg Ross