Showing off

My name is Trevor
I love to perform

For as long as I can remember, I have always been performing for people.
It goes all the way back to primary school. Here, there were a few things that fueled my desire to perform. I remember we were being cast in class for a performance for our parents. Grade 2. I was given the biggest reading. I also learned (to many people's later disgust) how to project my voice.
Throughout primary school, I was somewhat of a loner. To this day, it is still often the case. But I remember during lunches when I hung out with some of my friends. I would insist on planning and rehearsing skits that we would then perform after the break for the class. I never thought much of it at the time. I thought it was simply what was done. I did it because it was fun.


We had an old video tape of A Chorus Line. I swear that I had probably worn down one small section of tape. There is a song in A Chorus Line called "I Can Do That". I watched it over and over. I could reinact it (as well as my untrained body would let me). The meaning of this was lost on me until recently when I rewatched it with a friend for the first time in over two decades. I found my body vaguely remember the moves that I practised over and over as a child. I smiled at the song and my body's reaction to it. And I wondered when had I lost that feeling?


I later found my love of characters when my class was given its first play in grade four. I can't remember the play, or much of what happened during it. Though I do remember getting cast in the part that I went for. The lead villain. This was a surprise for most people because I wasn't the usual sort of person going for that role. When there were three heroic leads, I went for the bad guy. I was trying out for (auditioning would be a bit of a stretch) alongside most of the mischeif makers in the class. And I got the part. I remember during practises that I would sometimes do something that I thought would make sense for the character to do, being told by my classmates that I was being silly, to have the teacher praise me and tell the other students to do something similar. I had confidence in myself.

Somewhere along the way though, I lost that confidence. I found myself hampered by the thought that I wasn't good enough. My love of performing never went away, but it became suppressed by inadequacies that tore me apart. It was considered unmanly.

The funny thing is, throughout school, two of my greatest talents were being suppressed by my fear. My performing and my intellect. I had a great intellect. I was smart. I could argue and I could write. But I felt small and insignificant when I failed and when I succeeded, there were a number of people around me who made me feel guilty and worse. So I stopped trying.

Grade 11 came. end of grade 10 we were given an opportunity to audition for the senior play, The Taming of the Shrew. I was given the fantastic role of Lucentio. I reveled in it. It was the first time in years that I began to put effort in. I was learning my lines over my holidays at Caloundra. I had fun finding the character. I was left to my own devices with it and became hopeful. When we got back to school, I was a senior. I was in the play, and in my own way, I was excited.

After the first rehearsal, I discovered that I had a bigger part than most. There was only one other grade 11 student who had a part as big as I did (he played my servant who swapped identities with me). I thought nothing of this fact. Others, however thought this unfair. I heard tell later of complaints that had been put forward. The trouble that I heard was it wasn't fair that I got such a big part as I wasn't studying drama. I heard cries of injustice and they were cries aimed at me. This happened a number of times to me during my two years as a senior. Senior plays, public speaking, debating. Really, anything I succeeded at was subject to injustice. What I didn't hear until the echoes reached me years later was the jealousy behind these accusations. My brain ended up pairing my successes with injustice.

It tore me to my core.

I loved to perform and it was a credit to the director of the plays that he cast who he thought was best for the role. I thoroughly enjoyed performing in the Taming of the Shrew. I loved playing in The Elephant Man. I had fun during The Pirates of Penzance.

I graduated grade 12. A number of achievements under my belt, very few of them earned as I put in no effort. My fears had well and truly set in.

First year at uni. I took part in some Underground Productions shows: Out of the Box where we did excerpts from a Midsummer Night's Dream; The Beggar's Opera; and Bugfest. My grades were poor due to no effort, but I enjoyed performing. While feebly trying to strike up conversation with a young lady, I asked a very important question. We were exhausted after a number of late nights and was about to start another and I asked "Why do we do this?" She looked at me incredulously and said "Because we enjoy it."

Because we enjoy it.

That hit me harder than I thought. That's why I started performing in primary school, back to my earliest memories. I enjoyed it.

There was  a hidden nugget of truth behind why, even after all of the malicious intentions leveled my way, even after losing my passion, even after genuinely believing I was untalented skum; I continued to perform.

That said, this realisation by no means 'fixed' me and it didn't take long for me to have that feeling suppressed again. Fear raised its ugly head once more when I began to perform with a local group, MACS Musicals. There were a number of productions that I took part in. Heck, I even got to play Major General Stanley. But there was a poison in the middle of this group that was not obvious to me at first. It festered over time to the point where they couldn't get enough cast to perform the shows that they had paid the rights for. They treated people like objects and as such, people didn't come back. I lasted longer than most. I found small positives in each role that I was given. I often paired myself with another young actor that I had worked with in the past (he was in The Taming of the Shrew with me) and we produced great work. And when we did, we were used as an example of why everyone else was shit.

If you ever want to turn a group against someone, this is the easiest way to do it. Build someone up before the group and tell the group they're shit and that they should want to be like these people.
I then auditioned for HMS Pinafore with Savoyards on a whim, and got a small role as the bosun's mate. Part of an a capella trio in the middle of the first act. I'd gone from people telling me that my talent in singing lies when I'm not heard to; here's a part, have a go. I did well.

I enjoyed myself a lot during this production and met a number of wonderful people. So I went back and did more shows with them instead of MACS Musicals.

I had all but walked away from MACS Musicals when I was asked to take part in a play. This was the same group that had a history of treating people poorly, but with a different director. I was intrigued. So I auditioned for and got the role or Norman in Table Manners, the first of the Norman Conquests. I began to have fun again in this play. My first show in a while without singing and I had a blast. It was a much smaller cast than I was used to at only six people. As such, I was also given the ability to hone my skills somewhat. I enjoyed this show, and while I knew my time with MACS Musicals had come to a close, I was glad for the terms that it had. Not all partings from theatre companies went that smoothly.

I did a number of shows with Savoyards and enjoyed most of them. There came a time, however, where this was not the case.

In 2009 Savoyards staged the Rock Opera: Paris. I auditioned for this show (poorly) and was given a minor role in a trio. We were the (much needed) comic relief for this show. This was not an easy show, the score was difficult, the material rather heavy and the staging was on a raked stage at a steep angle.

For one reason or another, I was treated poorly during this show and my enjoyment level was non-existent.

I was in another show at the time and was upfront about this during the auditioning process. They still cast me in the trio. This trio was unique. We were choreographed well. I missed a number of rehearsals due to the other production. When I returned, I knew my steps. The other two did not. I got blamed. Publicly. The song itself, same story. To me this was rough. The inability of my co-players to learn their parts was blamed on my absence. If I was there, they would have had enough time to rehearse and know their parts, regardless of the fact that I had managed to learn and practise my bits on my own.

There were a number of lifts of cast members that needed to happen in this show. There was confusion and struggle during the lift that our side did. I stepped forward and coordinated it into a cohesive and safe lift. They saw the success of this attempt and then decided to take me off the raked stage to catch this person when they were dropped the five feet to ground level. When the lift failed without my direction, aggressions grew and blame pointed when I tried to step in and fix the problem.
I was later told by the assistant director to learn all three parts of my trio for the entirety of the musical. I did, and it saddens me to say that there was not a single performance, in front of a paying audience, where I only did my part. There was always something extra that I needed to do. The thanks that I received for this was very quiet and minimal, and even faced with open hostility from some of the other cast members.

These were not the only difficulties that were placed before me as a direct result of this show. This musical was poorly managed and, to me it seemed, not truly cared about by most of the production group of Savoyards. It was just the show they had to do in order to get the rights for The Boy from Oz.

This does not even touch on the huge interpersonal problems that I had with this show. It was during this time that my marriage came publicly unstuck. I was blamed. Publicly. I was shamed and ostracized as was anyone who stood by my side during this time.

It was the worst time that I have had during a production. Ever.

I didn't perform for some time following that, and I've not gone back to Savoyards since then. I probably never will.

Why do we do this?
Because we enjoy it? If we lose that enjoyment, then why do it?

I had hit rock bottom with my performing and I couldn't do it anymore. I tried in 2010 with the Centenary Theatre Group. I was in Hayfever. I think the problem was me. It wasn't a small part. It wasn't particularly exciting either. There were entertaining comedy moments, but I didn't feel right during this production. I didn't enjoy myself. So I stopped.
I dived into my work headfirst. I made my store (the Carindale Games Workshop) the absolute best that I could. My life consisted of work and a Tuesday night trivia competition that I went to. And that's pretty much all I did. I was lost for purpose and direction. I don't blame this on any one thing, but a whole stack of larger concerns that added up.

In 2012, I was cast as Albert Einstein in Villanova Player's production of Steve Martin's: Picasso at the Lapin Agile. This was my biggest role for some time and I was very nervous. It was full of witty dialogue, emotional moments and intelligent discussion. The cast and crew were wonderful. I enjoyed myself again.

It felt like, for the first time in a while, that I had a modicum of control. I had snapped out of a daze and found myself in the passenger seat of the car that was my life. And while I didn't gain full control of the vehicle (I'm not convinced I have yet), I did dive across in a mad panic to yank the steering wheel to put me back on the road for and out of a ditch.

Later that year, I played in Season's Greetings. I had even more fun then and managed to throw on the windshield wipers of my life car for some clearer vision. I daresay that I'll probably devote a future blog post to that show and some of the amazing people I met during it.

I've done more shows since then. I have found my passion for performing again, including improvisation; again a future blog. But it took time.

As much as it may seem like it, I'm not saying that my life's happiness and direction are based on whether or not I am enjoying performing. Far from it. I am however saying that for the most part of my life, I have enjoyed performing and if I could I would perform for a living.

I'm often reminded of the eighteen year old me, sitting outside the cement box theatre at UQ befriending a pretty young lady with a stupid question and finding that her answer years later helps to define whether or not I take part in a production.

My name is Trevor
Performing is my favourite thing to do.
I'm going to keep doing it for as long as I can.