DEC
12

Theatre Rocks

By Chris Wheeler 

Chris Wheeler is an independent writer in the Denver metro area.  With degrees in both Theatre and Film Studies, he has been a long-time patron, lover and philanthropist of the arts.  He is glad to be a part of Pioneer Drama and their online theatre community. 

We all have stories.  He got into acting when his drama teacher spotted him goofing around at the lunch table with friends.  She was the choir student who would put on plays with the neighborhood kids.  Their parents worked all the time and needed something to keep them busy and out of trouble.  For each story you’ve heard, there are dozens more.

I have my story too.  Some of us will flirt with theatre and remember it fondly, while others will marry it and head off into the sunset.  Either way, theatre means a lot to us all.  Sometimes more than we realize.

For the stage and me, it was not love at first sight.  The very first production I was in was a Christmas play at church, and I played “boy who cries for parents in audience.”  I was a stubborn, shy little boy who was perfectly content to play with action figures and Lincoln Logs alone in his room.  Theatre?  Acting?  Big crowds of people?  Forget it!

Luckily for me, a group of people I was about to meet had other plans for me.

I say I’m the lucky one in this situation because truly, I would not be the same person today without my time in and around the spotlight.  In many ways I am still that same shy and certainly stubborn little boy.  And at the same time, we’re completely different.

Props crew is not glamorous, yet it was a good place for me to start.  Behind the scenes, out of sight, yet often integral to the story.  And most importantly, it was a lot of fun.  I met some of the first truly accepting, outgoing, kind people I’d ever met.  And theatre wasn’t too scary anymore.  I learned I was all right.  Maybe even fun to be around!

A few acting classes later, I had the nerve to audition for my first show.  I won’t lie and say not getting cast was easy.  But at that point, those awkward and self-conscious tweenage years, I wanted someone to see greatness in me where I didn’t see it.  I wanted to be a star and be given a chance to shine.  I didn’t want to be told to work hard and be patient.

Reluctantly, that was another very important lesson theatre taught me.  Yet it was still fun.  I couldn’t get enough.

I tried again.  And again.  My first play is a blur.  It was middle school, and today I couldn’t even tell you the plot, though I remember I got a part as Solider #5/Townsperson #11.  It was small, but it was in front of the curtain.  I was just one big nerve standing in the background and praying for time to go faster.  But things got easier.  I learned how to audition, I learned how to stand in front of crowds, I learned a thing or two about humor.  Some dance steps, some new songs...  I learned that I love doing it all.  Working hard at something is fun.  Being part of a group is fulfilling.  Challenging myself is healthy.

Now, years later when I think back on this time in my life, I think about my parents.  How it must have felt to see their shy little boy evoking laughter from a roomful of strangers.  Seeing him shout and yell and push the drama forward.  Truthfully I had several family friends, familiar with the shy little boy, tell me after shows they couldn’t believe I had it in me.  It was a pleasant surprise.

To them and to myself.

And to my props crew.  My student director.  My choreographer.  My castmates.  My director.  And to my community.

But mostly to him, that shy little boy.  I think of him fondly from the private little spotlight I keep myself in now.  All thanks to the many, many people who came together so that his curtain could rise, who surprised him and taught him things he didn’t know he needed to learn.  We’ll never be the same.