Just Stick It Down My Throat
There are few things more awkward than a really uncomfortable stage kiss. No one comes out well – the audience feels weird and the actors feel icky.
I’m in this scene from Summer and Smoke, and thusly required (some might used the word ‘forced’) to smooch the guy playing my opposite in the scene. I’m a big girl and professional, so the fact that Mark is a bit gross is something I’m willing to overlook. What I’m not willing to overlook, however, is the irrational giggling and simpering of a 30-year old man over a non-issue.
Bit of background on the play: Written by Tennessee Williams in 1948. Takes place sometime around WWI. John and Alma are basically in love, but he resides in the world of the body, she in the world of the soul. Never the two shall meet, very tragic. In the scene that we’re doing, playboy John has brought Alma to a trashy casino for their first date. There’s much talking, then some flirting, more talking, two small kisses, then it goes to shit and Alma storms out.
As we’re working through the scene, the closer we get to the ‘moment of truth,’ the more foolish his antics become. He keeps breaking character and cracking up about this joke Tim, the director, and I had made like two hours ago. Finally, there’s just no more avoiding it, so he awkwardly advances and stops a full three feet away from me. I look at Mark, throw a glance at Tim, and say my line, “What are you doing?” In reality, Mark is not doing anything. He’s not invading my space, not creating any kind of intimacy, and certainly not lifting my veil, which is what is supposed to be prompting my line.
So we try that again. On his second go, he’s at least in close enough proximity for our lips to hit each other, but is still incapable of pulling the trigger. So as John, who in half a page is going to suggest that we go bone in the casino, stands there, Alma, the virginal daughter of a minister, is forced to lean in and plant one on him. Her first kiss, both horrific and slutty.
Since Equus, I guess I’m a little less shockable, but I understand why he could be uncomfortable. It’s not particularly fun with someone you don’t know very well. Go ahead and say something. Or say you’d prefer not to do this scene. No one cares. The mincing about was far more distracting and revealing than if he’d just said, “You know, I don’t really feel comfortable doing this.” Instead, Tim had to try to explain to him that on the second kiss he should hold my face, prompting Alma to pull away as the script requires. Despite a demonstration, Mark said he didn’t understand. Rehearsal kind of ended after that.
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