An Easy Waltz

I’ve fallen in love time and time again on stage.

I’ve been married several times, been slighted a few, died in a lover’s arms and been hopelessly lost in someone’s eyes.

And sometimes it’s easy like a well rehearsed routine. Sometimes it’s a process to master the steps. 

But sometimes it’s a damn near impossible tap dance.

I was thinking about a dear friend of mine who I’ve known for nearly 30 years. Scott and I have played opposite each other numerous times in our youth. I fell in love with his sailor, his prince and his silly green bird. And each time, it was simple and easy and natural. 

It was enjoyable. 

In all of those shows, the work was hard. The demanding music of Sondheim and Mozart certainly played a role in the waltz we danced as lovers. I think we both learnt very quickly that we each had the ability to keep up, and it was the rhythm in that sense of security that allowed us to embrace each other. 

But, I have to say, not all of my stage lovers have been truly loved.

So what does it mean to play opposite someone? What does it take for it all to click? And why is it so much easier when it does? 

To understand the meaning of playing opposite, you cannot think of the word as a noun.

As a noun, ‘opposite’ means opposed to or different to in every way.

Perhaps this is why some on stage relationships are not in sync.

I’ve found, over the years, that the biggest killer of a stage romance is ego.

When one person not only thinks, but assumes that they are ‘better than’ the other, it can be very difficult to get into the swing of a relationship, even a pretend one. 

I’ve played opposite men who literally have barely said two sentences together to me for the entire rehearsal run. They were clearly not interested in getting to know me, which, in turn, made them very unappealing.

There HAS to be some semblance of attraction, even at a ‘good human being’ level for any kind of footwork to begin.

As a woman, we’re often playing roles that are vulnerable and I think that can present a power imbalance of which we’re not even necessarily conscious. It can be hard to hold your own when his role is larger, more complex and often the centre of the play itself. 

You literally can feel like a back up dancer in your own choreography.

But, let’s face it, it takes two to really tango.

If you consider the word ‘opposite’ as a preposition, you’re closer to the mark.

Here, ‘opposite’ means across from, facing, on the same level to or complimentary to. 

And it’s this kind of playing opposite that spins and twirls in performance.

Think about those on screen pairings we see over and over - Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara, even Ben Stiller and Owen WIlson or Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin. They all have a chemistry that leaps off the screen and an ease to their relationships. It MUST be why they choose to work together again and again. 

A love story, even that of friends or siblings, works better when it’s grounded in mutual respect, safety and value. 

It’s this balance, when the scale is never tipped either way, where performers can feel willing to take risks, to really let go of any inhibitions, and to truly sway to the tune of love.

I fell in love with my friend Amber last year.

We played cousins in The Appleton Ladies Potato Race and I have never been so at ease with a partner on stage before. 

We simply swung into workshopping - questioning each other without criticism. We knew when to slow down and when to pick up the beat. We laughed and cried and cared for one another deeply. There was an inexplicable trust that we would have each others’ back. 

And there was equal talent on the floor. 

So, she was easy to love. 

And I honestly think audiences thought we were cousins.

I know some people might argue that it’s just acting - fake it till you make it!

But it is challenging to convincingly wrap your arms around the waist of someone you don’t really respect and expect an audience to be moved by your effortlessness and grace. No one wants to watch an awkward couple misstep their way and tread on each other's toes. 

Unfortunately, sometimes, particularly in community theatre, the choices are limited and directors do the best they can when casting.

It IS rare to find those matches made in heaven.

I’m grateful when they come along.

Scott and I have been friends for 30 years. I think that’s proof that we still feel love. 

And I’m certain there will be many more loves in my theatre life.

I DO believe that at the heart of every love story there is trust, laughter and friendship.

And an easy waltz to a comfortable tune.