Rediscovering Theater

I’m not a natural performer. I’m shy, I avoid attention, and I dread public speaking. So it’s no small irony that I chose to pursue a BFA in Acting. Last night, after more than a decade away from the stage, I performed my second showing of Dimes Square. It reminded me why I once dreamed of a life in theater. Performing allows me to escape myself, to inhabit someone else’s skin, and to feel the electric, communal thrill of being part of an ensemble.

My journey through drama school at CalArts was idiosyncratic, to say the least. Upon graduating, I was cast directly from my showcase to develop a play at the Sundance Theatre Lab. There, I found myself surrounded by a who’s who of American theater—a rare and incredible opportunity, and one I completely squandered. Looking back, I see a younger version of myself who was equal parts arrogant and insecure. I didn’t feel like I belonged. I wasn’t loud or attention-seeking, or any of the other stereotypes of what an actor is “supposed” to be. I wanted to disappear—into the background, into a character. I wanted to act, but I also wanted to remain invisible. In hindsight, I realize that’s what acting has always been for me: a way to run from myself.

I chose drama school because of Shakespeare. From a young age, I was obsessed with his plays, their language, their characters. I still have several of them practically memorized word-for-word from reading them over and over. In high school, I spent countless lunch periods in the library, buried in the Arden collection. At 17, when I applied to theater schools, I wasn’t interested in a film career, fame, or any of the usual reasons people pursue acting. On my first day at CalArts, we went around the room sharing why we had chosen drama school. Half the class said, “Because I want to be famous.” I couldn’t imagine wanting anything less.

I applied to just two schools: CalArts and Juilliard. Juilliard put me through an intense callback process, and I ended up one of eight on their unranked waitlist. I didn’t get in. I still remember the panel asking me why I wanted to attend. “Because I want to do Shakespeare,” I said. Their faces made me suspect they didn’t believe me.

At my CalArts audition, I was asked the same question. I’ll never forget the dean telling me, “Well, all roads of success lead to film.” She launched into a conversation about classical theater, during which I voiced my skepticism about their recent avant-garde production of Lear, which I’d read about. (What chutzpah I had!) She countered, saying Shakespeare must be modernized to stay relevant and that actors needed to adapt to new technologies—like microphones—or risk irrelevance. I pushed back. Whatever I said must have landed, because I was accepted on the spot. “We’d love for you to come here,” she said, “so we can change your mind.”

In many ways, I thrived at CalArts. But I remained deeply skeptical of their avant-garde approach, which often seemed to sideline everything I loved about theater: character, language, storytelling. I vividly remember the head of acting once calling me into her office to address my “attitude.” I’d been struggling to muster enthusiasm for a high-tech production in which I felt like little more than a prop in someone’s conceptual experiment. She told me my ideas about theater were “chauvinistic.” For a time, this aesthetic dominated the downtown scene, but I think a new avant-garde is emerging—one that values solid writing and rich character work, one growing outside the confines of decaying institutions.

When I left school, I didn’t think I’d ever act in a play again. For years, when people asked what I studied in college, I avoided the truth. I was embarrassed to admit I’d pursued a BFA in Acting. Instead, I’d vaguely say I went to art school and change the subject.

And yet, last night, I was back on stage—and it felt incredible. I had so much fun. I feel profoundly lucky to have been invited to perform with a company like this. The play is being staged at the Brooklyn Center for Theatre Research, which, in many ways, embodies exactly the kind of company I always dreamed of but never thought existed. We have several more performances left, and after Dimes Square, I’ll be working on another play, Doomers.

Coming back to theater has been surprising and joyful, a journey I never expected to take. After all this time, I feel deeply grateful to be performing again.