To Act or Not to Act
...
The Castle/Roger clan have always been, well, dramatic folk. For generations they have taken life with a sense of theatricality and flare that makes every day exciting. They are passionate souls who see almost any situation one to perform for. There is a flare found among them that has seeped through the family lineage. Carny folk, circus performers, actors, and writers. Those destined to entertain, tell stories, and feed off the praises of those around them.
And while Richard has spent his career using his wild imagination to perfect his storytelling, Martha has dedicated her life to honing her craft as an actress. The theatre is her life, her passion, and where she truly comes alive. She is proud of her profession and her success and shines at any chance to pass her knowledge and wisdom on to others. For Martha knows that there is a little bit of actor in all of us.
So when her six-year-old grandson told her he was going to be a part of his kindergarten play she couldn't wait to teach him her ways, introduce him to the art that is acting. After all, he is his father's son. An overactive imagination and a gift for storytelling that could have only been passed down genetically. He was born to be a performer.
...
Martha stands, script in hand, yelling action on the scene. In response, Richard and Katherine's little boy stands up tall as his George Washington wig starts slowly tilting to the left.
"I am George Washington. I cannot tell a lie," he deadpans.
Pausing, the boy then lifts his paper axe and swings at an invisible tree. Stiffly placing the axe on the ground he stands back up and repeats his next line. "I chopped down the cherry tree. It was my fault."
And "cut," Martha calls out. "Andrew, darling. You mustn't be so stiff. Acting flows like a song from one line to the next," her body swaying in demonstration.
Andrew nods at the instruction, his wig now almost fully off his head.
"Come here, kiddo, let me fix your wig," Martha coos.
Costume in order, Martha resumes the rehearsal. "Alright, are you ready to try it again?"
"Yes, grandma!" Andrew exclaims.
With flourish, Martha yells "action!"
"I am George Washington," Andrew starts. "With more energy, my dear boy," Martha calls out. "You want the person in the very back of the room to pay attention to your performance."
"I AM GEORGE WASHINGTON," he bellows.
"Well, you certainly woke me up, but darling you are not mad at the audience. You just want to get their attention," Martha explains.
With a wave of her hand, "Okay, let's move on to the next part. We'll come back to that."
Andrew starts on pretending to chop down the cherry tree. Stiffly swinging his axe as though he was a miniature robot.
"Looser, Andrew. Remember it must flow, not so stiff." The six-year-old attempts the instructions, resulting in looking more along the lines of a wobbly penguin, then a young boy chopping down a tree.
With some more coaching from Martha, they attempt the scene a couple more times. Each time either ending right back where they started, monotone and stiff, or so over the top even Martha has to cringe, before with a clap and an exasperated wave of her hands Martha decides that a break is needed.
"Andrew, I believe it is time for a snack."
"Yes!" he yells as he takes off for the kitchen, wig and axe already forgotten on the floor.
Martha follows close behind, knowing that this just might be a lost cause. For Andrew Castle is in fact just like his father. However, as Martha has now remembered, Andrew also has many traits of his mother's—hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and the inability to truly grasp those little nuances of acting.
...
Thanks for reading!
(Kate Beckett being bad at acting has become one of my favorite things. Too funny. :) )