Act 1, Scene 9: 'What I Did For Love' - A Chorus Line
Theatre has been one of the few constants in my life. There was the brief interest in horse-riding, the two weeks of playing the recorder, tennis, the tenuous role of ‘bus warden’, netball, DofE and harrogate hospital radio but none of these stuck like drama and musicals did. I started going to Stagecoach at the age of 3. That is not an exaggeration: I had not even started education and I was already ‘acting’ , ’dancing’ and ‘singing’. After having experienced baby Stagecoach from the other side - as a 17 year old assistant - these terms MUST be used loosely. For example, by ‘dancing’ I mean running around to music…still dancing is dancing, right? Apparently, 18 years later, my personality is very ‘Stagecoach’. To me, ‘Stagecoach’ translates roughly to keen, enthusiastic, dramatic and probably a little too loud. I can’t really refute this claim. Every Saturday morning, there I was.
I have endured quite a bit to keep this relationship solid. When I was 8 years old I sprained my ankle during ‘The King and I’ but, as my grandparents had come from Manchester to see me, I adamantly hobbled on anyway. My left ankle is still a bit dodgy - I can’t really kneel down ‘properly’. I repeatedly combated my dog allergy over five years through three sniffly productions of ‘Annie’. I refused to wear my glasses onstage which led to a few unfortunate dance-related incidences and ultimately, the introduction of contact lenses to my daily routine. Heartache occurred when one of the first boys I fancied came out. We’ve all been there. At 15, I spent a 6 night run wearing an all in one white leotard only to be told it was see through. My head has been smashed against a table for four consecutive evenings. My friend Sophie’s first kiss occured during rehearsals to the sound of the director shouting ‘cut’. At the age of 13, Ben (Title of Show’s Jeff) had a hernia throughout his run in ‘The Sound of Music’ which, I am told, hurt for ‘two days or so’ after ‘any movement’. Still, the show must go on (and ideally, go on with you in it) so he finished the run…and then went to hospital. Cara* (name changed due to embarrassment) had a particularly bad experience playing Wendy in ‘Peter Pan’ whereby (due to some enthusiastic jumping and flying) she had to run offstage to ensure her tampon didn’t fall out. Props have been thrown, costumes ripped. I can’t eat sweet potato fries due to the aftermath of an intense dance rehearsal in 2013. I’ve had pipes shoved up my nose and three months of speech therapy only to discover that YES you do have the beginning of nodes and YES you will now forever be an alto. I would say a moment’s silence for every part I cannot sing, but I’d be silent for awhile. Thankfully, my teacher Helen was a brilliant and speedy transposer who could come up with some thoughtful alternative belting numbers. Regardless, I approach all key changes with fear and anticipation.
At this point, you may wonder why we do it and this is the part that I find harder to describe. Maybe by the end of this process I will be able to articulate it. So, for now, don’t let the Chorus Line title (and my habit of listing) mislead you - this is less about ‘what we did’ and more about ‘love’. And god, do we love it.
‘Invent a new reason to get out of bed,
Like a bolt of lightning struck your head,
Like a pistol fired and you’re off to the races,
Like it’s down to the wire and you’re holding aces,
Like every day is a brand new page or a perfect wave or a well lit stage’
- Dallas Clayton.
Lots of love,
Leah
