Title: Archetypes and Backstage Drama
Author: Array
Rating: anyone really…
Disclaimer: They're Aaron's .. I guess… still..
Timeline: Sometime during Season 2… fluffy stuff
Author's Note: for my tech theatre buddies
She sighs in exasperation.
"Josh would you quit fiddling with stuff. It's late, and I'm trying to get some work done here. Do you need me to find you something to do?"
"No no. I'm good."
She glares at him.
"I'm just waiting for Sam to come back from the DNC.
"Well can you stop hovering and light somewhere? You're the one who needs these cards."
He perches on the edge of her desk and watches as she highlights a section of the report she's working on, then grabs a colored note card and jots down a couple of sentences. He fiddles with the magnetic paperclip holder until she moves it out of his reach. He entertains himself for almost fifteen seconds by making a tiny abstract sculpture out of the one paperclip he has left, then balancing it precariously on her bottle of apricot scented hand lotion.
"So out of your smorgasbord of college courses which do you think was the most useful?" he asks absently, while shooting an elastic band across the empty bull pen.
"Drama," she says without hesitation.
He turns to look at her. "Really?"
She nods. "Uh huh."
"Drama? Not Poly Sci? How on earth does acting help you?"
She looks up at him, her eyes limpid. "That's a wonderful idea Josh. I don't understand why all the congressmen don't worship the ground you walk on!"
His eyes narrow. "Don't give up your day job, Gracie."
She grins at him. "Who said anything about acting, anyways?"
"You. You did."
She focuses back on her work. "I said drama, Josh. There's way more to it than just actors."
"Huh?"
"Well there's designers and directors…"
He waves his hand dismissively, "Yeah, yeah I know. I know all about the theatre Donna."
"No, you really don't"
"What do you mean? Of course I do. " He points a thumb at his chest, "Me. Lead in 'Lil' Abner'. Grade eight." He grins confidently. " I was good too!"
"My point exactly" she says.
"Huh?"
"You know Josh…There's technicians too… people who build things… who run things backstage… work behind the scenes. I liked being part of the rehearsal process... I really got to see how things happened, how the show got put together… and I liked being backstage… making sure things happened but not being seen by the audience….besides," she smiles just a little saucily, " I look good in black."
"Yeah," he says glassily, before he makes a quick recovery to add "Well yeah, I guess that kind of makes sense then…" He nods sagely.
"I liked being on the S.M. team."
His eyes widen and he grins, "That isn't what I think it is, is it?"
She rolls her eyes. "Get your mind out of the gutter Josh… Stage Management team. I mean I never actually got to be the actual S.M. or P.S.M., 'cause it wasn't my major, but I was an ASM. I was good at it too."
"ASM, PSM, SM… you got a list of acronyms for me there Donna?"
"Assistant Stage Manager, Production Stage Manager, Stage Manager," she rattles off. "The stage manager runs the show, Josh. They're in charge."
"I thought that was the director."
"Well, yes, but the stage manager runs things… keeps the director on time, makes sure the actors are happy,… prompts during rehearsal, takes notes… lots of notes… just makes sure everything runs smoothly. They're the glue of the show, they hold everything together. Everyone counts on the stage manager. They look after everything to make sure the director gets what he wants." She pauses for a moment, "Or what she wants."
He nods. "Okay.. I think I get it. It is kind of like here. You are kind of like an Assistant Stage Manager."
She laughs. "You're thinking you're like a stage manager?"
He looks a little wounded. "I'm not? I'm the guy people count on... I mean Leo's like the director.." he's warming to the analogy now but she laughs harder.
"What's the joke?" says Sam as he rounds the corner.
"Josh thinks he knows all about the theatre."
"Oh. Right. Well then."
"Lil' Abner?" says Josh hopefully, turning to Sam. But there's no quarter for him there, just Sam's smug superior smile.
"He thinks he's like a Stage Manager…" Donna supplies. Double teaming him with Sam is one of her vicarious little pleasures, but she tries hard not to let it show.
Sam just looks at him.
"What!" says Josh, "What?"
"You're really not ."
"I could be!"
"No. You couldn't."
"What do you know about the theatre anyways Sam?"
"Recording secretary , Gilbert and Sullivan Society, Princeton."
"Oh whatever!"
"Well maybe not professional, but still a step above Bedford Lake Junior High don't you think."
"It was Green Farms Academy!" he corrects, unaccountably stung.
"And a prep school makes it better, how?" asks Donna.
"Hey!"
"Well, you know us little people," she pushes, "public schools, state colleges…" She's treading on thin ice here, she and her uncompleted degree in everything, but Josh is too wound up to see the opening.
"It was a good school!" he asserts.
She grins at him.
"It was a good school," he says, quieter now.
"I'm sure it was."
Josh sighs heavily. "The guy who organizes things… behind the scenes…?"
"Give it up Josh. You're way too high maintenance to be a Stage Manager.
"Me? High maintenance?" he squeaks, looking at Sam for support. There is none forthcoming.
"No wait!" crows Sam, "He's not from modern theatre at all. He's Il Dottore, one of the stock characters from commedia dell'arte…. the Doctor."
"You think I'm a Doctor?" he says, his eye brows climbing to his hair line.
"It just means educated, Josh… a lawyer, a doctor. Someone who went to a reputable school," she soothes.
"Oh. Okay"
"And is pompous, egotistical, and loves the sound of his own voice," supplies Sam happily.
"Donna" he whines.
She pats his hand, "Don't let him get to you baby."
"Oh my god!" says Sam with dawning understanding."He's not Il Dottore, you're both the Innamorati.
"What? What the hell is that?" demands Josh.
Donna looks down at her desk. "Other stock characters. Archetypes really."
"Well, actually," says Sam, "they're…"
"Sam!" she says sharply.
"Oh. Right," he says, seeing her pleading eyes, "They're just archetypes."
"Whatever," says Josh, "Who cares about Moliere these days anyways."
"Moliere was a French playwright from a different century who had nothing to do with commedia dell'arte," Donna corrects.
"Hmm, no. Changed my mind again. You really are an archetypical Il Dottore." says Sam as he heads to his office. "Donna's still Isabella though!"
"I'm not an archetype," he yells at Sam's retreating back, his voice careening out of control. He turns back to Donna, his eyes warm and pleading, "I'm not an archetype."
"No, Josh. You're one of a kind." she says drily, "Now stop being a prima donna and go have your meeting so I can go home."
He's still staring right into her eyes.
"What?" she says, "I have a life!"
But he's back in control now, his eyes drilling into hers, "There's only one prima Donna around here," he says quietly.
She freezes for a moment, the blood rushing in her ears, and then she turns to the computer screen, hoping vainly that he can't see the color rising to her face.
His smile is bright and warm and full of dimpled confidence. He starts to follow Sam, but turns to say, "And don't think I don't know enough French to know what prima really means," before he continues.
"It's Italian, you idiot," she calls after him.
"I know!" he answers over his shoulder without turning back.