The man that is not passion's slave

I’ve never been leading lady material.  I’ve never looked the part of an ingénue or tragic heroine.  As a young woman, that was devastating to my confidence.  But I liked theater enough to get over the slight against my person… and eventually I grew up enough to stop taking it personally. 

I got a little more realistic in auditions.  I started looking through the eyes of a director and contemplated how I might fit myself into a cast and pursued the parts that made sense for my ability and my appearance.  And somewhere in that acceptance… I came to realize the supporting characters are actually… more interesting.

No.  Really.

My favorite character in Romeo & Juliet is Benvolio.  Why?  Because he is the conscience.  He is the survivor.  Oh, yeah, sure Capulet and Montague are left with the dead bodies of their children in the end.  But Benvolio has lost Mercutio and Romeo.  He has tried to keep the peace but struggles with his own desire to fight the battle against the Capulets.  He has blood on his hands and the knowledge of what has happened.  He doesn’t have the mercy of death.  He has to go on after the story ends.

I love Hamlet.  I really, really, really love Hamlet.  Obviously.   His monologues and struggle with purpose resonate in my brain.  But… he is a jackass.  He really deserves to die in the end.  My heart always bleeds for Horatio.  Especially when Hamlet curses him with survival and the obligation to tell the story.  That sucks, Hamlet.  That really… isn’t fair.


I figured this out fourteen years ago when seeking a hook for a final paper in a lit class.  We were given the license to be creative.  I had some inspiration that dive-bombed at ten o’clock the night before I had to leave a completed semester analysis in my professor’s box.  So, armed with a two liter bottle of Diet Coke, I wrote a first person perspective of Horatio’s struggle with survival.  It was the best paper I’ve ever written.  It impressed the professor so much he asked to keep it and told his other classes about it.

I knew that paper wasn’t the end.  I knew that it was just a piece of imagination I would lock away for later use.  Well, I suppose fourteen years is later enough.  Yeah, I had aspirations of playing Hamlet when I was in his age range… but I’m realizing… these days, I identify more with the ‘friend.’  I like the people who dwell in the margins, observing it all.  The servants.  The friends.  The ones who actually see what’s happening, who don’t just barrel through the tunnel of action with no comprehension of the bigger picture.  They not only see the consequences of the hero, but usually have to suffer them, too.

I find those stories more fascinating.  Yeah, Hamlet finally triumphs over his hemming and hawing.  But Horatio never has a choice.  Maybe he – or in my case – she could withdraw from the plan and ignore the prince.  But… really… does love let you do that?  Even when you aren’t certain that this person is completely sane?  Or right?  Isn’t that struggle more profound than the debate of whether to listen to a ghost’s demand for vengeance?

Center stage is more sexy.   For the fleeting moment of the spotlight.  Maybe the good die young.  Or maybe we see it that way because the goodhearted live to tell their stories and let us think so.