"Eye Contact"
The other day, during a ten-minute break, several of us were talking about the importance of eye contact. Someone talked about an actor who chose not to make eye contact with other actors while he was performing. Instead, this actor would look at the forehead of his scene partner. When the break was over, and we delved back into the world of Kid Victory, I couldn't help but linger on that story. The story became a tale of warning about being an actor who acts in a void.
Kid Victory is a musical about my character, Luke, a 17 year old struggling to reintegrate into his old life after being kidnapped for a year. Throughout the play, Luke struggles to find connection. So utterly lost and damaged, he is constantly finding himself alone in the void of his mind. In order to try and do justice to his story, we have been reading memoirs, watching interviews, and sharing images of real kidnappings. The subject matter is... dark, to say the very least.
That day, after that conversation about eye contact, we spent several hours working a flashback scene in which Luke relives a day of captivity in an epic ten-minute musical number. In the scene, Michael (
Jeffry Denman) indoctrinates Luke with a rather warped history lesson. The chorus swells and I am thrown about the stage in choreography and combat until I end up in Michael's arms, and, in a moment of musical climax, we waltz. Fully given over to his control, he sings inches from my face. "To the west of pain is a paradise...." He sings over and over, but we don't break eye contact. I'm transported to that place - to the captivity, to the fear, to the utter lack of control and self-abandonment.
Later, we worked on a scene with Sarah Lizsinger, in which my character recounts an experience he had in captivity. I found myself struggling with the weight of the subject matter matched with the weight of the many choices to make, new blocking, and the freshly memorized lines. I was wholly overwhelmed. There was suddenly all of this pressure to tell Luke's story, tell it truthfully, and tell it well. I lost myself in thoughts, fears, and anxieties... Then, there was a moment, when Sarah placed her hand on my arm. I looked up, and we made eye contact. I felt safe, I wasn't alone, together we would do this scene, together we would do this play, and together we would tell this story.
Staring into Jeff's eyes brought me into the world of the character. His power, his command, and our connection made me feel, for a moment, as if the circumstances were real. Starring into Sarah's eyes, I found not only the support of the character, but also the support of actor - a human connection that allowed me to work through the difficulties of the character and the performing of him. He helped me find the story; she helped me find the power to tell it.
