A Treasured Gift

Last weekend I was assisting with auditions for a youth production - ‘Long Joan Silver.’ Five young adults stood on the stage before us. They were the eldest group of the day. They made the younger group beforehand look like ‘kids’ - generally much more knowledgeable and well equipped with years of drama classes behind them. 

They all did what they were asked with gusto, knowing that this fifteen minute window was their only opportunity to shine, to nail it and show us what they were made of. They jumped to attention at ‘Ai, ai, Captain!’ and gaffawed at ‘Shiver Me Timbers!’ And they all stood out from the rest of the thirty-two who auditioned that day. 

But standing there waiting in that line patiently, observing the others, but not really bothered by them or even consciously competing with them, was one small, unobtrusive, unassuming young woman.

The world right now is a buzz for Jessie Buckley. I’ve seen Hamnet. In a line up of some of the best female actors of our time, she pips them all at the post. Her performance has an ease about it to which we rarely see. She breezes into the universe of the film, fully aware and present and able to tell someone else’s story - to become another wholly and hold our hands and hearts while she does it. 

And I’m not saying Buckley didn’t have a great director with a clear vision and a cinematographer with an eye for the right moment, but there’s something that she brings that is undeniable. 

Yes, acting is a muscle that needs to be flexed and stretched and exercised regularly. But talent? Talent cannot be made with a membership card and a payment plan, where you work out every day in the desperate hope to be better, stronger, faster.

Talent dwells. It soaks up the room, the people, the space, the sounds, the details, the message. It notices the unnoticeable and quietly sets it to task. It’s in the crook of a smile, the tilt of a head, a turn of the eye, a lowering of the voice. And it’s really hard to put your finger on it. But everyone sees it. When it’s there, it’s felt. It takes up the stage, it dominates and it’s impossible to tether. 

I watched this young woman become a pirate in thirty seconds. Her whole body morphed. She didn’t become the stereotype - yelling, drunk, limping. She was there, on the ship. I saw her hair roughed by the ocean breeze and heard her voice hoarse from the salt. Her eyes reflected the treasure she desired and the hatred she harboured.  

I turned to look at the team behind me. Their eyes were fixated, unable to blink. She had them too. This tiny person had shipped us off, we had set sail and were her captives. 

And the four other auditionees knew. They all inhaled. 

As capable as they all were, when you stand in line next to true talent, you are never going to get the lead role. 

The Buckleys and Long Joans of the world are rare. And that’s why we’re so impressed. Their admirable gift is something us mere mortals can only dream of possessing. 

I think we all knew last weekend that this Long Joan won’t be ours for much longer - there is a world out there that must see her talent. But for now, she will take these ‘kids’ across the seas in search of buried treasure and we will bask in the sunrise of her gift.