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It’s a wonderful feeling, when you realize that you enjoy your vocation enough to make it a hobby as well. This is the story of my first experience with that warm glowy sensation. This is the story of The Bear. The Bear happened the summer after I had just returned from the London Dramatic Academy, the program where I’d studied acting the previous spring. I had learned so much and wanted to try out my newfound skills; I was itching for some acting. Fortunately for me, my friend Liv from high school had a similar craving. Early in the summer, we resolved that before we went back to school we would put on a play. It was a few weeks before we got any traction on it. When we finally got moving, the first thing we did was pick our show. Liv got in contact with a director friend in Canada and, on his recommendation, we landed on Chekhov’s The Bear. It was perfect—there was love and loathing and scandal and a duel, manageable in a summer but with enough substance to make it engaging. Through the power of our irresistible charm, we managed to get Mrs. Flara, our old high school director, on board. Now all we needed was a space. The following is a rough transcript of our decision process: Let’s think about theatres in town. Well, there’s the community theatre. They might be willing to offer their stage. But would Eddie (their producer and director) be willing to let someone else sit in the director’s chair? We know him, so maybe. But it’s Eddie. So probably not. Hrm. What about parks? People are always doing things in parks. They seems to be a trendy venue nowadays. Let’s look into parks. Which one would we do it in? Well, of the two parks in Berea, the park best suited for performance purposes would be… neither of them. They both suck. Crap. Our list begins to grow thin. Did you see Joss Whedon’s new Much Ado adaptation? He did it all in his house. What if we did it in one of our houses? That could be neat. It would certainly be a different experience. But organizing rehearsals would be a bitch, and they both have full families living in them. Maybe not the best choice. Wait. What about the high school? Flara has keys and Liv is like a daughter to the superintendent. We’d have to turn it into an educational experience, but that could actually be kinda fun What if we do a two-day extravaganza for the Drama classes—the play and a talkback one day, and a short workshop the next? What do you think? Sounds good to me. Sounds good to Liv. Sounds good to Flara. Let’s do it. And with that, we were off. Liv recruited her sister to play the servant, and we jumped straight into rehearsals, giving us a week to get off book on our own before we started blocking. Unfortunately, with Mrs. Flara gearing up to start school again we could only do three hour-and-a-half rehearsals a week. With only three weeks before we performed, we knew we had to really kick it into gear. We couldn't afford to wait. We came into our first rehearsal memorized and ready to go. This accelerated schedule ended up being necessary when Liv’s sister suddenly dropped out halfway through rehearsal, leaving us only a week and a half to get our new troupe member memorized and up to speed. Suffice to say it was a little nerve-wracking. We made choices. We made changes. We kept our eyes on the prize and worked until everything fit. We drilled it and drilled it as much as we could. And after a combined thirteen hours of rehearsal, we were ready to go, just in time for the first day of school. Show time. I loved being back on my old stomping grounds. That stage is where I acted my first role and decided to pursue a career in the dramatic arts. It excited me and filled me with deep satisfaction, returning as an alumnus to introduce potential young Ians to the joy I had found in those rickety burgundy seats. The curtain parted and my feet retraced familiar paths they had not trod for years. After we took our bows, the students joined us on the stage and Liv and I talked about our theatrical experiences and paths. She expounded on the intrigue of dramaturgy, I on the exhilaration of acting. The following day we ran a workshop of theatre games and by the time the end-of-day bell rang, there was an entire room of high schoolers playing “Bunny Bunny.” I think this is one of my proudest achievements. And there you go. The story of The Bear. It was my first time making my own theatre, outside of any kind of pre-existing structure, and I can’t tell you how invigorating it was. It was more than simply exhilaration or enthusiasm—it was thoroughly fulfilling. In a lot of ways, The Bear acted as a crucible for all my previous theatrical experiences, from high school theatre all the way up through collegiate roles and the LDA, and what came out was a newly forged conviction that this is what I want to do. And damn if it don’t feel good. Peace, Ian
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