I was cast back in February as an understudy at Steppenwolf Theatre, for their world premiere production of The Qualms. (If you click the link, watch the Look Inside video to get an idea of what the play is about.) I started in June, and today was the 68th and final performance of the run.
It has been an amazing experience.
Steppenwolf has been my dream place to work for almost 20 years. I saw Steppenwolf's production of Buried Child while in college, and it literally changed the trajectory of my life. (Sam Shepard. Gary Sinise. Ethan Hawke. Lois Smith. AMAZING.) Up until that point, I'd planned to move to New York City after graduation. It never occurred to me to live anywhere else. I had always assumed that if you wanted to be a serious theater actor, then NYC was where you went. But after seeing Buried Child, I knew that I wanted to do that kind of theatre with those kinds of artists. Chicago - and, by extension, Steppenwolf - became my new dream.
I've lived in Chicago for 16 years now, and of course, I discovered long ago that there are so many outstanding theater companies here. And most of them aren't in the theater district. If you ever come to Chicago and are looking for a show to see, email me and I'll give you recommendations. There is much more to Chicago theater than the huge venues downtown. As Mr. Tracy Letts said in his Tony acceptance speech for Best Actor last year (CLICK AND WATCH THE BRILLIANCE OF THIS SPEECH that never fails to make me cry), there are storefront theaters all over Chicago filled with actors who "say it to their faces," and I am proud to be one of them. Tourists are often drawn to the big Broadway touring shows playing in the heart of the Loop, and don't get me wrong - I enjoy those shows as much as anyone. But they are not Chicago theater. Even a lot of Chicago residents miss out on the heart and grit and tremendous talent that forms the backbone of theater in this city, simply because they don't know where to look. (If interested in learning more about the vast array of theater choices in Chicago, the League of Chicago Theatres website is a great place to start. And yes, I'm aware that I sound like an infomercial.)
I am a fan of many theaters in Chicago, of all sizes, and have an ever-growing list of all the places at which I would love to work someday. But for me, Steppenwolf has always been my ultimate "if I could only work there" place. During our first years in Chicago, even when Chris and I struggled to make rent and couldn't afford health insurance and often survived solely on Campbell's chicken noodle soup (or rather, I did...Chris ate baby food from his Nonnie, which is a story for another day), we always splurged on season subscriptions to Steppenwolf. I've seen so many memorable productions there over the years...shows that I loved and a few that I loathed, but every one of them a visceral experience that made me feel something. Each year, my esteem for Steppenwolf - and my dream to work with them one day - only grew.
In case you were wondering why in the hell it took me 16 years to realize my dream...a bit of background. (Throw in my recurring hang ups and indecision and crippling battles with myself over whether or not to even be an actor, and you'll have filled in the blanks.) At a theater like Steppenwolf, you need to be invited to audition. They rarely, if ever, have open calls. (Actually, this is how quite a lot of theater companies in Chicago work.) You can submit your headshot and resume to them, but that does not mean that they will call you in. I was invited to their general auditions for the first and only time eight years ago. I don't do well at general auditions. I am much, much better at auditioning with sides. For some reason, I'm hit-or-miss when it comes to monologue auditions. I did not adequately prepare, and the audition was definitely one of my misses. I left feeling that I'd just blown a rare and important opportunity. Turns out, I had. I never heard from them again, and I carried that frustration with me for a very long time.
Then, a few months ago, a friend got an invite from Steppenwolf's casting director to audition for an understudy role in The Qualms. She accepted. But she also did an incredibly selfless thing - she forwarded the invite to me as well. She had read the play and thought I fit the role perfectly. She encouraged me to email them and ask if I could come in and audition too. I did. They said yes. This time, they wanted me to do a side from the play. (Yay!) I prepared, prepared, prepared, prepared. I auditioned. I got the job.
I would have never known about the audition had my friend not told me, and perhaps if I had not auditioned, she would have gotten the role instead. She had to have known that that was a possibility, yet she told me about the audition anyway. She championed me throughout the process, and sincerely congratulated me when I got the job. I am grateful to my friend for so many things - this is just one more act of generosity to add to a long, long list. But it's quite a whopper, wouldn't you agree?
After I accepted the job, I began to panic. I've never understudied before. In fact, I've avoided doing so for years. It always sounded like a pretty thankless job to me (sort of true) and a lot of hard work (definitely true). But I always told myself that if one of the big theater companies asked me - those companies in my head that comprise my Big 5 - I would do it in a heartbeat. And I did. But I didn't know what to expect, and lack of knowledge always makes me anxious. Hence, the panic.
Luckily, Steppenwolf just happens to know what the hell they are doing. The tremendously talented stage management team walked us through everything we needed to know and made sure we were thoroughly prepared. My emotions ran the gamut from complete terror to utter confidence at the mere thought of going on, depending on how far we were into the rehearsal process. But even when I was frightened as hell, I secretly desperately hoped I would get to go on. For a long time, I even felt this inexplicable certainty that at some point I would get to go on. And...I never did. It's my one disappointment. Some of my fellow understudies went on, and while I was genuinely thrilled for them, it was also kinda hard to watch. We all worked so hard, and were so ready, and I wish each of us could have had that experience, just once. In case you think I'm completely delusional...I KNOW that's the nature of the job when you are an understudy; you need to be prepared and ready at any time for a contingency that most likely will never happen. My brain knew that the theater had never guaranteed me a performance, and the odds that I'd actually get to perform were slim. My heart just refused to believe it. Also, I was pretty naive. In my ignorance, I figured that since the theater put so many resources into hiring talented understudies and making sure they were thoroughly prepared, the policy for cast members missing a show would be rather lax. In fact, I stupidly thought that understudies would step in if the actors were tired, or had a wedding, or travel plans, or just wanted a damn break for one night. I mean...we were there and we were ready. Wasn't that what we were there for? Boy, was I wrong. Stage management made it clear that understudies were there in case of an emergency only, and the fervent hope was that we were never needed. From my perspective, that was disappointing to learn. But seeing it through the eyes of the theater, I understood.
Despite not going on, I still had a great time and learned so much. I was in the room with a Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award winning playwright and a Tony Award winning director. I got to sit there, like a teeny tiny awestruck fly on the wall, and watch them work. I don't think either of them would recognize me if they passed me on the street, but their faces and voices are etched in my memory. The unique opportunity to watch a world premiere come to life in such talented hands was unquantifiable. I also got to watch some of the best actors in Chicago (and a few from New York) do their thing...over and over and over and over again. :) (Seriously though...it could have gotten boring very quickly, but the play was so funny and the cast so engaging that it rarely did.) I got to tread the boards of a Steppenwolf stage, even if only in rehearsals. I met a lot of talented and interesting people. And I got to scan my little security badge every day and go downstairs and hole up in my dressing room and tell myself, "I'm at work now. At Steppenwolf. I'M AT WORK AT STEPPENWOLF."
To a lot of my peers, I don't think understudying at Steppenwolf is that big of a deal. I mean, it's a paid gig at one of the most critically acclaimed theaters in the country. No working actor just shrugs that off. But I suspect most actors wouldn't get as excited as me. Or maybe all the fantastic actors I know who've had similar jobs are just way better at acting nonchalant than I am. I guess it all depends on where you are in your life and career, and who your own personal faves are. But for me...this summer has been a gift, and I am deeply grateful for it.
I don't know what's next on the horizon for me. Such is the life of an actor; you never really know. And, admittedly, I'm not very good at living in that space of uncertainty. I like to have a plan, and I struggle with maintaining the self-motivation and confidence required to be a working actor. Sometimes it just feels too hard to keep moving through each disappointment and keep pushing toward the next opportunity. Over the years, I've gone through phases where I've taken a long break from acting or decided I'm done altogether. It is an electrifying, exhilarating, and bruising way to make a living, and my too-sensitive self often needs to take a step back. But I always return to the theater, and at this point in my life, I know that I always will. Being in this show, surrounded by such talented artists, has inspired me to keep going, keep working, keep striving. I feel a new drive to move forward, and my new plan - my new dream - is to simply ride that wave and see where it takes me.
