Muserology Cafe

Genre Swap (April 2010)

by Kaeli, age , Maryland

My mouth opens to speak. I know my line perfectly, but nothing comes out.

"Come on, Kaeli," the director says. "Gangster rap."

From center stage I look around the room. The whole cast is waiting. 

"My name is Alice, so please your majesty," I say. My face turns bright red. I don't sound gangster, just stupid and maybe southern.

It's Genre Swap Day, when we take a break from regular rehearsals to try becoming different kinds of characters. It's about having fun and loosening up. It's also my worst nightmare. 

I can't believe I've come this far to get stuck on gangster rap. Compared to this, open auditions, cold readings, and even last week's horrific "stumble through" were a piece of cake. In just three weeks, Alice in Wonderland, starring yours truly, will be performed in front of a combination of people--light on the general public, heavy on the proud parents. And right now I'm in a dance studio, looking like an idiot, trying to deliver a line meant for a prim seven-year-old as an inner-city gangster. 

It doesn't get much better as rehearsal progresses: infomercial, televangelist, chicken, even dinosaurs are fair game. Trying to be French, I translate a line off the top of my head. A few people clap. The director looks bored. 

Genre after genre flies out of his mouth. All around me, everyone else seems to adapt fine, convincingly acting Italian or pregnant. I'm bombing. How do you do Jersey housewife? I hear my voice and it's...southern again. I want to run far, far away. Suddenly the director is laughing hysterically as Tweedledee and Tweedledum deliver their lines as SpongeBob SquarePants. 

It's not that I'm unprepared. My blocking and lines are memorized. I can act like an annoyed seven-year-old at the drop of a hat. Throw any surprises at me--someone forgot their lines, what scene is next, even who they are--and I'll be able to cover for them. But I'm the only one. This show could be horrible. So why are we now Irish stepdancers? It seems irresponsible.

Rehearsal ends and I'm feeling embarrassed, inferior, and like I've let the cast and the director down. They're not saying anything but I can feel it. The director has told us many times that being an actor is about getting out of your comfort zone. Genre Swap, however, is just a little too uncomfortable. I feel silly and immature up there, pretending to be something I'm not. The stereotypes, too, put me in a place that is confusing and painful. I was taught that it's wrong to make fun of people in this way. The director is gay. He of all people, a likely victim of these types of stereotypes, shouldn't be asking us to promote them. How could he want us to do this? 

As Alice, he tells me I'm supposed to feel awkward, like a square peg in a round hole. I get it. It's the way I feel most of the time. I'm too tall. I'm no good at sports. I don't say funny things. Memorizing lines is the one thing I can do well--that is, other than my homework. But I didn't sign up for the play to be more embarrassed and uncomfortable than I am in real life. 

I suppose next year I could do some research and be thoroughly prepared for whatever he tosses at us. I could even interview past students who acted for him so I'd know every possible genre. And then I'd practice and practice until I was ready for anything. I bet I could even be a dinosaur if I prepared. That would show everyone. 

On my way home, my head is spinning. The director chose me to be Alice over a bunch of much more popular girls. Someone suggested he picked me because of my blond hair. I heard he got angry and told them my hair had nothing to do with it; he picked me because I was "genuine." So why is he now trying to humiliate me by making me do something I'm so bad at? There is nothing "genuine" about me being a triceratops.

I remember how the director wore a dress to the first all-school assembly he attended. He stood up, introduced himself, and said he felt like wearing a dress today. No one said a word. Was he in his comfort zone? Perhaps being the butt of stereotypes your whole life prevents you from even having a comfort zone. Is that what he wants us to do as actors? 

Three weeks later, performances started. Alice in Wonderland was a hit. But every single night, I forgot a line, and looked to the others in the scene for help. Every time, they supported me. Here I was, thinking I was the only one prepared, but they were able to give me cues to remind me what I was supposed to say. The best part was that we were able to laugh about it later. 

Maybe being completely prepared takes the fun out of things. Even if I knew what was coming the next time we had to do a Genre Swap, any feeling of being inside my comfort zone would be faked. Maybe the only way to extend my comfort zone is to be outside of it for a little while--not to know all the answers ahead of time. Just because I'm not sure of the answer doesn't mean it's wrong.

I might never completely understand. But I'm sure glad he didn't decide to make it Alice in Wonderland: The Gangster Rap.