On Sunday, I turn 25.

This means a lot of things… the first of which being good god I worked so hard this week so that I can spend a weekend only thinking about my papers in passing.  With the realization that due to my life choices I will, without fail, be stressed out on my birthday every single year, I also made the decision that I will strive to give myself at least a day off to celebrate on the anniversary of my introduction to the world.  I only narrowly managed to succeed this year but thank whatever agnostic deity is listening it’s all settled.

A quarter century is an interesting time.  I can’t really term it a “long” time, but it sure seems like long enough when I think about the amount of stuff I’ve achieved (and the thought that most of these things had to wait at least fifteen years before I could properly achieve anything).

 I have to admit, my actor’s brain is slightly freaking out.  For an actor, getting older is a curse as much as a blessing.  Every year one grows this much closer to completely re-defining one’s career.  As you age, your type changes with you and (since type is so important to contemporary casting practices) this in turn shifts your capabilities.  Unless you are in an extremely unique situation, as much as we like to think that theatre is an art about creativity, more often than not it’s an industry of placing butts in seats.  What that means for an actor is catering to one’s physical traits with one’s acting style.

I, for instance, had a very difficult time getting work.  I was always told to wait twenty years because then I would grow into my type.

… they also told me to lose thirty pounds and move to Europe where I would surely be seen as a castable type…. There’s a reason I’m no longer primarily an actor.

My finals are tucked cozily into a nook of my desk where they will remain until Monday.  I’m putting them out of my mind. So here’s the crisis I’m going through now.

…what about the parts I’ll never get to play?

Women, especially, are subject to the tyrannical rule of casting-by-type and age has a great deal to do with the politics of casting actresses.  When I was training at the American Globe Theatre, my mentor there (Mister John Basil) gave us a chart breaking down these types.  For women, the chart looked something like this…

Ingénue – 14-20 (Juliet, Miranda, Lavinia)

Mistress – 20’s (Rosalind, Viola, Isabella)

Leading Lady – 30’s (Portia, Lady Percy, Lady Macbeth)

Dame – 40’s and up (Paulina, Volumnia)

Again, this is my approximation of John’s chart and his point wasn’t to say that these characters MUST be played by actresses in this age range, but if you were playing these characters you had better look like you are in this age range.

The other week, I was talking about monologues with an old friend of mine.  He mentioned that he was reviving some of him stuff because he had felt the need to work on it again.  I sighed wistfully and said, “I really should… I should have one from each of the major play types at least… there aren’t many good ones in the histories though.”  To this, of course, he replied with Lady Percy (who has some KICK ASS monologues, by the by) and I replied, “I’m too young.”

He looked me up and down and said, “…you may not be.”

I thought about that for a moment.  The prospect was slightly thrilling and terrifying at the same time.  After all, the last time I had worked on monologues I was firmly within the “mistress” range edging into too young for those… the last time I worked on monologues I was playing Phoebe and Julia, La Pucelle and Marianna, young women.  Lady Percy?  A widow (albeit before her time)?  My nineteen-year-old self couldn’t do it…. But my twenty-four-soon-to-be-twenty-five-year-old self?  Can I really play Lady Percy?

And then the sorrow set in.  Will I really never play Juliet?  Will I be doomed to never play the balcony scene, except when I recite it to myself in the shower sometimes?  Am I going to pass the benchmark for ideal age for my favorite Shakespearean heroine (Rosalind, in case you were wondering) before I ever get to play her?

Now admittedly, in order for one to have a stage career one must be auditioning (something which I have not done in many a year) so perhaps it’s unfair of me to be upset about these things.  It’s like wishing to win the lottery when you never buy a ticket.  And I did leave the realm of professional theatre for reasons (very good ones), so my melancholy has a certain amount of rose-colored glasses-wearing to it.

That said, I can’t help but be slightly misty-eyed at the thought that I’ll never speak the words, “O God, I have an ill-divining soul…” or “you kiss by th’book” in front of an adoring crowd of sighing theatre-goers.

…but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it ruin my weekend.