Daily Journals

8/21/23

I had an entire summer to prepare for the first rehearsal of Murder on the Orient Express, yet I still went in feeling unequipped to begin. There is a certain anxiety that one feels when they are not in control of a situation. In acting, a large chunk of the process relies on an actor’s ability to lose control and take creative liberties. For this reason, the first rehearsal of a show always feels more vulnerable than the ones that follow. There is some kind of added pressure to display the research, accent-work, character-building, and overall skills that you have been working on for months. It can be difficult to remember that this pressure is self-induced. I have no unreasonable expectations of my fellow castmates, so why would that same logic not apply in the reverse? I had put in the necessary work, but for whatever reason, it doesn’t ever feel like enough.

Alas, I arrived in the acting studio 15 minutes early and caught up with my friends. The wonderful thing about working in a show is how connected you become to everyone in the process. It happens subconsciously, this desire to be around one another. Unlike other friendships that you have to actively work on, show-friendships are less complicated. When you spend hours of a day together, six days a week, you become pretty comfortable. An early return to campus not only means a jump-start on doing the thing that you love—acting—it also means that you get to spend days with the people that you love. We began with the usual paperwork, introductions, and start-of-rehearsal explanations before immediately jumping into a trust exercise. Essentially, we all held hands with one another and twisted ourselves into a knot that we then had to work to untie. It was enjoyable and definitely got the surface-level jitters out of the way. The entire goal of the exercise is to increase communication and trust within the cast, which I feel it accomplished. We then did a game where we practiced our unique accents with one another, which was deeply relieving. I believe that half of my stress lies with the things that I feel less comfortable doing/the techniques that I am intimidated by. Accents own a large chunk of that insecurity, so this exercise relaxed me even more. With all of the exercises out of the way, we moved into the seminar room to do our first table read.

Table reads are daunting for multiple reasons. For one, they put an actor on the spot. Everyone is looking at you, seemingly measuring themselves against you. It is essentially the first time that anyone can judge how much work you have actually put into this show. I use words like “measure” and “judge” not because that is actually what is occurring, but because that’s how it feels. Much like acting before a large audience, my worst anxiety comes minutes before I step on stage. As soon as I say my first line, I am settled and ready to go. It is like a light switch for me. So, a table reading insights that same feeling of heart-pumping panic. Marc is talking about expectations, accents, playing and having fun, while I am trying to keep my leg from jiggling so hard that I shake the table. I was most nervous about talking like a little girl—it makes me cringe, so I would imagine it would make others react the same way—doing my Minnesota accent full out, and singing. I am by no means a singer, so that took up a lot of space in my mind whilst preparing for rehearsal. The thing that I consistently fail to realize is that everyone is feeling this way. Everyone is less comfortable with one aspect of their performance, everyone wants to impress people, everyone doesn’t want to be judged. This is a reminder that will do me good in the future because by the end of the table read—nay, by Act 2, I was feeling great. I was excited by what I was hearing, seeing, and feeling. This is a show of great actors, a great story, and I get to be a part of it. It’s kinda surreal when I think about it. 

8/22

Today I felt much worse about my performance than I did the day before. As a recap, yesterday I realized that I put too much pressure on myself and that everyone worries about the same things. Did that stop me from putting more pressure on myself and stressing about things that are beyond my control? I’m afraid to say that it didn’t. I went into rehearsal feeling decent, ready to begin a new day with new challenges. We began the evening with a group discussion about the play in general. What was its impact, why is it important to do, and so on. I have a difficult time putting things into words unless I’ve thought them out beforehand, so I chose not to speak until I could fully organize my point. I discussed my connection to everyone and how my relationships were affected by the tragedy of the Daisy Armstrong case. Something I did not expect to feel in this discussion was deeply vulnerable. I feel like I have garnered such an understanding for my character that talking about the death of her family feels like pressing on an old wound. After rehearsal yesterday, I felt rather heartbroken. I didn’t realize how much hearing the play aloud affected me until I woke up today and compared my feelings of rejuvenation with the sadness of the day prior. The discussion sparked that same sort of melancholy in me once more, talking about justice, betrayal, the ethics of right and wrong. 

As the mood was slightly dampened at this point, we did a few new exercises based on physicality. I believe that is when I started to feel unsure again. Besides some of the psychological work that I have done for research, the physicality of my character was my next biggest hurdle. From my understanding, Mrs. Hubbard is meant to be in her mid-fifties, my guess being 53. I am 21. Trying to comprehend the physical process of aging is a difficult thing to do from an outside perspective. I see 50 year olds who look youthful and spry, and I see others who have a harder time with mobility. I want to create a clear difference between the physicality of Mrs. Hubbard and who she is revealed to be, Linda Arden. However, I have trouble not creating a caricature of age when Mrs. Hubbard herself is almost a stereotype of an American woman. Hunching my back, moving slowly, taking shuffled steps all feels inauthentic. I know that Linda Arden has a straight spine, perfect posture, and an air of regality, so I wanted Mrs. Hubbard to be juxtaposed against that. However, if Mrs. Hubbard was to behave the exact opposite, I find that insulting. To me, it insinuates that aging is a negative, ugly process. I felt very frustrated by today’s rehearsal because I couldn’t seem to get a feel for the physicality of Mrs. Hubbard. I have spent a lot of time thinking about this, but today was the first day that I put it into practice. I felt stunted by my own thoughts, as though my inability to embody Mrs. Hubbard led me to forget how to move properly. Although this is slightly defeating, I know at least one area that I can track my improvement in.

8/23

When I looked at the call sheet for today, I was surprised to see that we were planning to spend an hour and a half on the first scene. During our first read-through, this scene took less than three minutes. It is a heavily emotional scene, as it depicts the kidnapping of young Daisy Armstrong, the five year old girl who was kidnapped and murdered by a gang leader. I play the role of Daisy, although it is a live voice-over so I am not actually seen. We started rehearsing this scene as a general read-through: seated around a table, scripts in laps, finding each other’s eyes. Then, Marc proposed that there were breaks within this short section that we needed to find in order to make the story fleshed-out. For example, Daisy and her nanny are supposed to leave the room and travel upstairs. As this scene will be performed completely through audio and lights, the audience will not witness this action. Therefore, we have to narrate this vocally. We started by finding beats in the text where one character would switch the overall meaning or tone of the scene. They were small moments, things that wouldn’t jump out unless you were looking for them. A lot of the beats revolved around Daisy and her nanny, so we slowly made our way through each line, dissecting them like you do literature. I had yet to go this in-depth into such a small scene. Marc helped me to realize that this is the foundation of the entire play. Although there are few lines, the content is essential to understanding what is to come. 

After that, Marc told us to get on our feet and act out the scene. The goal was to find sounds and movements that the body naturally does without our noticing. Characters are running, laughing, climbing, carrying, and experiencing different bodily influences that are not visible when one simply sits in a chair. We had to do the actions in order to understand what was missing. I did not realize how stale and unimaginative the text sounded on its own until I was on my feet. Running and laughing changes the breath in one’s body, which changes how a line is delivered and the cadence in which one speaks. Fear and panic affects the pitch of one’s voice and the rapidity of breath. Doing this exercise helped me to produce sounds I would otherwise not think to make—like soft footsteps or heavy breathing—and it also assisted in my empathy for little Daisy Armstrong. Watching someone come towards you with mal-intent is very different from reading stage directions. The fear in my voice and breath was genuine; the feeling is embedded in my memory. 

Once we completed the exercise, we sat around the table once more and did another read-through. This time, the story and emotions were tangible. They felt so necessary and I can’t imagine what this scene would be like had we not played and explored. I am proud of myself for being willing to try, even when it sounded nonsensical. I wouldn’t forgive myself for missing out on the opportunity to make this scene as powerful as it should be. 

8/24

We went into Klein theatre for the first time today and worked on the set. At this point, the set is orange, the furnishings are unfinished, and the platform cannot be rotated, but we have the framework of each location to work off of. We began rehearsal with a small tour of the set and then jumped into a small vocal exercise. Moving from the acting studio into the theatre is quite an adjustment for many reasons, the greatest being that of volume. When you are in a small room, the clarity and volume of your lines is not at the forefront of your mind. When you are in a large theatre with over 200 seats, it becomes increasingly important. Marc had us do a vocal exercise that worked on the proper use of diaphragm and projection, as well as articulation and linguistic detail. With a partner, you exchange a handful of lines between the two of you, moving further apart as you go along. Eventually, you will end up on opposite sides of the theatre—one against the back wall of the stage, the other against the back wall of the house. Each time that you increase the distance, you must also increase volume and articulation. By the end of this exercise, I had a greater sense of vocal tone. This is necessary when acting in front of an audience, as they are meant to understand every line without it seeming performative. Even if it benefits the audience, it should not appear that you are speaking with excessive volume for their sake; this could make the performance feel insincere. 

I always prefer to work on the actual set in Klein theatre versus staging the entire show in Wonderbread studio and transferring to Klein during tech week. I have been lucky enough to work in this first-show time-slot three times, where I have rehearsed the plays entirely in Klein. It is easier to stay in the same location the entire time. It allows you to visualize the space better and saves you the trouble of adjusting your blocking and adapting your imagination later. Today, I entered rehearsal with words of affirmation, my confidence a bit shot after yesterday’s ineptitude. Thankfully, rehearsal felt much better this evening. We did rough blocking of the first few scenes, where I appear a good amount of times. My physicality is still lacking, as is my ability to visualize props around me that I can use. After Nickel and Dimed, I didn’t expect miming actions to feel awkward ever again, yet today proved me wrong. Picking up a fake spoon and looking at my fake reflection felt supremely dumb. My movements felt stunted and disjointed, which is to be expected. I think that when my script is out of my hands, I will feel more comfortable in my actions. For now, I am trying to focus on saying my lines, speaking them properly, blocking correctly, entering and exiting at the right time, and moving realistically. All of that to say, I am focusing on way too much at once. Marc tried to help by giving us specific things to concentrate on each run of the scene, but my mind wouldn’t let me drop everything else in an attempt to follow his instructions. Reflecting on the day, I put a lot of effort into trying to achieve everything at once. I think that is part of the reason that I come home more exhausted then I would expect. I don’t realize how much energy I am placing on perfectionism. In that same vein, I also expect skills to fall into place automatically. Marc asks me to be larger than life in certain areas, and I feel so frustrated by my inability to do so on the first try. I am not a quitter and I don’t get discouraged easily, but I have a hard time trying something and failing, no matter how much effort I put into it. I need to work on internal pressure and unrealistic expectations. 

8/25

I went into the theatre today feeling more nervous than I was expecting to. By no means am I a singer, yet I put a lot of pressure on myself to sound decent when I sing. Last semester, I took Musical Theatre Performance at Gregg’s recommendation because he felt that it would make me more well-rounded as an actor. That was the first time that I had sung in public in years. I used to love to sing in crowds when I was younger; I thought I was going to be a famous singer when I grew up. The entirety of Musical Theatre Performance filled me with such dreadful anxiety that I marvel at how I made it through. The days when I had to sing in class or practice with others are all a blur in my memory now. I am thankful that I took the class, for it reassured me that I am able to hold a tune and sing in front of an audience without drawing a blank. I feel like half of my anxiety resides within the unknown: what will happen when I walk on stage; if I open my mouth, will any sound come out; if sound does come out, does it sound good? All of these questions have been answered and that has supplied me with some comfort. 

However, walking into Klein today took me back to last semester and the nerves that I felt knowing that I would have to sing. Mrs. Hubbard has two short songs that she performs. They are less than one minute each in length, but they are supposed to sound professional and pleasant. Naturally, I am nervous about achieving the “pleasant” aspect. I get so in my head when I sing. I mentally am trying to calm myself down, but my body reacts the same no matter what. My throat starts to close and my entire body trembles, which makes my voice come out shaky. I imagine this is what stage fright feels like. 

I remember when I was cast in this role, one of the first fears I developed was my character’s need to sing. It was one of the main reason why I didn’t want to play Mrs. Hubbard. It was very difficult to research the two songs that she sings, particularly the “Charleston” song because its lyrics do not match up with those written in the script. After much research and troubleshooting, I figured out that part of the song’s lyrics (Hey Mr. Whosits, I hope you don’t have any trouble with this one. It would be unAmerican!) was actually created by Mrs. Hubbard. I became innovative, adding in little filler sounds and keeping the non-lyrics rhythmic in order to make the overall product sound cohesive. Singing it aloud in a large theatre was intimidating, but I also knew that I put in the time to make it sound appropriately professional. After singing both songs through in their totality, the thought of rehearsing that scene again didn’t feel as daunting. I believe that half of my singing stage fright is getting the nervous jitters out of the way.

8/26

I am having a difficult time navigating backstage protocol. Recently in rehearsal, I have noticed a tendency to talk backstage in a volume that exceeds the appropriate level. In my opinion, talking when you are not on-stage is alright depending on the circumstance. If you have a question that you need to ask a scene partner, or an explanation for an acting choice that you made, I think that is alright. Particularly, when you are in the scene shop and far away from others working, it’s pretty realistic to have whispered conversation. Even then, I try to keep it to a minimum in case I am needed on stage.

That being said, I do not find it appropriate to ever talk backstage when someone is running through a scene. The actors on stage can hear you whispering and it is very distracting for everyone involved in the process. Even if you think it is undetectable, I promise you it is not. As an actor, I always want to remain alert and ready. When I get to talking about subjects outside of the show at hand, I find that I lose my concentration. I am taken out of the world of the play and into Maddie’s life. Not to mention, I find it disrespectful. Your fellow castmates have given you their attention during your scenes, why would you not provide them the same courtesy? I think it is rude to blatantly ignore the effort that your peers are making when rehearsing a scene by drawing attention away from the task at hand. It comes across as though their work is less important, less captivating than yours. Furthermore, why are people not interested in how the scene unfolds? Watching actors do what they love is one of my favorite things to do. I love the individualism that they bring to characters and the choices that they make—things that I would never think of! I feel like I learn something every time that I watch someone else act. It is like a free actors-workshop because a director is there to give notes and improve the scene. It bewilders me that others don’t recognize how lucky we are to be in this position. It’s such a privilege to have an opportunity to learn this process and this world. Before I came to college, I could not have imagined how deeply I would benefit from the people in this department. Everyone is so patient and enthusiastic about their jobs, it is intoxicating. I would hate to think that I am robbing someone of that experience. 

Our stage is not fully built yet, so I believe that reinforces the problem. There is no separation between actors on-stage and those backstage, so voices travel a lot easier. Along with that, talking begets talking, so once one conversation begins, it snowballs from there. Volume increases, people miss cues, actors onstage lose their train of thought, and I watch it all happen. I don’t know how to tell people that I don’t want to talk backstage. I like to read over lines, figure out how I am going to move, and practice my accent. It keeps me in the moment and in the world of the play. I obviously want to have fun, but I also take this extremely seriously. This is a serious play that I need to approach with gravity and compassion. I cannot do that if I am yucking it up about relationships and silly professors in the wings. I feel guilty when others approach me and I can’t figure out a way to kindly shut down the conversation. I engage them and then naturally become a culprit. I feel like I am not doing justice to the story or my character if I am not approaching each scene with the love and respect that it deserves; it becomes ingenuine. Maybe I am overthinking this or taking this too seriously. But acting is serious work and the fun comes in doing it, not in not doing it. 

8/28

Today was a shortened schedule because it was the first day of school and we had auditions. As a senior with an acting concentration, I must audition for all of the shows. 

By the time I got to rehearsal, I was drained entirely. Luckily, I did not have much scene work to do. It was an effort to keep my focus and motivation on the play. I wanted to crumple to the ground and sleep. I think everyone was in the same boat because there was a lot of silliness this rehearsal. Everyone was drained of energy and adrenaline; the first day was coming to an end and auditions were over. Rehearsal was definitely impacted by the group’s fatigue. There was a lot of uncontrollable laughter and dragging of the feet. I think that Marc understood where we were coming from, but it was likely still annoying. I had very little on-stage time, so rehearsal was rather mundane. 

8/29

It was a pretty uneventful rehearsal today. I came for the final hour to say one line— “Mama! Daddy!”—and then I was done. In this scene, I play the voice of Daisy Armstrong once more. This is the only time that her voice can be heard beyond the first scene of the show. It appears as a flashback to the moment when she was being captured from her bed. Although there wasn’t much for me to do tonight, this line did strike an interesting thought. For Linda Arden, I have been exploring the unending grief that a person would feel when losing almost their entire family. I have thought of her struggle and imagined her pain and fear. Until this rehearsal, I had yet to consider Daisy Armstrong’s feelings. I was cast as Mrs. Hubbard, not Daisy, and so I haven’t thought of myself as having a second character to explore. However, it would be unfair to Ken Ludwig, the playwright, to ignore the character that he felt was important enough to write an entire scene around. I am playing Daisy Armstrong and therefore I have to understand her point of view as well. 

To be captured in the middle of the night as a five year old, begging for your mom and dad to come save you. Crying out for the people who have always protected you, screaming for help as a stranger, a middle-age man reaches for you. Begging the world to help you, to not let this happen. Being lifted from your bed and taken out of your house in the middle of the night. Two big arms hurting you, squeezing you, keeping you from moving or making a sound. Those arms throwing you into the back of a car, slamming the door, and driving away from everything safe. Screaming, sobbing, possibly vomiting, likely wetting yourself. All of this happening in a matter of minutes. 

This is such a disturbing thought process that I’ve stopped here. I don’t want to imagine what happened after Daisy left her driveway. It is something to remember and reflect on so that even the voiceovers are done with respect. 

8/30

I really enjoyed today’s staging because it gave me an opportunity to work with castmates that I had yet to interact with thus far. Although a lot of us share the stage at the same time, I rarely spoke directly to Poirot or Arbuthnot up until this point. There is a moment in this scene where I reveal evidence that the killer left behind in my compartment the night before. I explain my theories and demand an apology for how I was treated. Poirot is the detective on the case and a world-renowned novelty. His presence on the train was unplanned for, and now Ratchett’s murder is steadily derailing because of him. With the uncalled-for snow drift, our plans were already shaken. Poirot is an additional obstacle that we must overcome unless we want to be thrown in Yugoslavian jail. With a famous detective now on the case, I must watch my words and actions even more than I was before. 

I believe that this scene is very important for me as Mrs. Hubbard because it is my first chance to convince Poirot directly that I am not involved in the killing of Ratchett. Up until this point, Poirot only noticed me as an annoying passenger in the background; this scene presents a new opportunity. I am now able to prove my innocence by providing evidence that places me as a victim in this mystery. Staying true to Mrs. Hubbard’s identity, I must juggle the illusion of entitlement, fear, outrage, inappropriateness, and disdain. This is another large performance that Mrs. Hubbard must deliver perfectly. I must be able to improvise responses and give enough evidence to clear myself without drawing suspicion. I am toeing the line of giving too much or giving too little. Rehearsing this scene helped me to balance my internal needs with my external needs. For example, my internal need in this scene (the desire of Linda Arden) is to convince Poirot and Bouc that my fabricated story is credible and I am an unwilling victim in everything. My external need (the desire of Mrs. Hubbard) is to extract a heartfelt apology from Bouc and impress Poirot with my acute sleuthing skills. I am beginning to understand that all of my actions are twofold: how would Linda react…and then do the exact opposite of that. 

9/1

Today, I spent a majority of my energy focusing on Mrs. Hubbard’s body language when she performs different actions. We began rehearsal with a rather active scene at the end of Act 1. We had to race down a corridor, scooch through a narrow hallway, break down a door, and find Mary passed out “dead” on the ground. All of this was done downstage in open space. There was no corridor or hallway or door; we had to invite the audience in to imagine these circumstances with us. Doing this kind of work means that all of our actions have to be very specific. 

I began exploring how Mrs. Hubbard would move if she was in a hurry. What would my running pace be; would I move leisurely or athletically; how do my body parts come together to illustrate the different compartments of a train I am going through? I focused on my arms and legs first. I do not think that Mrs. Hubbard does any running, and therefore my movements are very unconventional and loose. My abdomen rotates from side to side, causing my shoulders to rise and my arms to protrude out in front of me. As opposed to pumping my arms back and forth to propel me forward, they stay pinned at my ribcage and my hands point towards the ground, swinging with each movement. In short, my upper body reflects that of a tyrannosaurus rex. My feet shuffle along beneath me, causing a lot of hip swishing and head bobbing. I drew a lot of inspiration from senior power walking. There is a sort of stiffness of walking because of delicate joints, but their bodies move side to side more than the average walker. It felt natural, and the more times that we did the scene, the easier it was to discover how my body might react in other situations. A gunshot goes off, and opposed to jumping up—as a 21 year old Maddie would do—Mrs. Hubbard would shrink down and curl her shoulders around her seated figure. As a 53 year old character, Mrs. Hubbard is not as spry and agile as the actor playing her. She is not outrunning anything or anyone, so her instincts might be to hide or get smaller. In this rehearsal, I learned that many of my character’s movements could be the opposite of my own personal instincts.

9/2 

Today in rehearsal I focused on developing my relationship with other characters. I tried to find levels in Mrs. Hubbard’s reaction to the traumatic situation at hand. We have just discovered Mary lying on the ground in a pool of blood and tensions are high. I have had scenes of excitement, silliness, and fear, but I have yet to be in a scene with such high stakes. This is life and death happening right before my eyes. With what amount of urgency do I move? How do I react to the gory scene in front of me? Can I keep my composure in order to pacify others, or do I escalate the situation? I ask myself these questions as I watch Mary awaken and wince with every move she makes. I try to determine my character stance. Marc told us today that the easiest way to respond in a scene is by asking yourself three questions: do I agree with what’s happening, do I disagree with what’s happening, or do I not know yet how I feel? He said that once you have your stance, your reactions come more naturally. I believe that Mrs. Hubbard disagrees with the situation. Poirot’s insistent questioning of the injured Mary activates my maternal instincts. I find it unfair that she must be subjected to such harassment after being shot. Poirot and I have a small spat in this scene when I jump at the opportunity to collect a bloody knife from my handbag. He commands me to stop and not go anywhere, and I do not take kindly to this demand. I am fed up with his questioning and tyrannical investigation. Mrs. Hubbard’s relationship with Poirot escalates in a negative direction in this scene. We have a power struggle that I must ultimately submit to. By the end of this scene, Mrs. Hubbard admires Mary and I scorn Poirot.  

Linda Arden, on the other hand, has a deep respect for Poirot. I admire his moral code and attention to detail. He is acting with the sole purpose of solving this crime. I cannot hate him for seeking out justice, just as I hope he would not hate me for doing the same. Poirot is seemingly falling for every plan that I have put into place. When I say jump, he says how high. Mary had to shoot herself, just as the knife had to be hidden in my bag. I had to make it look like I was going to collect the knife so that Poirot would think I was an oblivious old woman and stop me. He is playing his part, and I am playing mine. Linda Arden agrees with the situation. I am the one who made it up. 

9/3

I was feeling unwell in rehearsal today, so my takeaways are rather skewed. I worked a lot on inner monologue to figure out the reason behind my words and actions. Oftentimes, Mrs. Hubbard is acting on Linda Arden’s plan, but I still must fabricate a plausible reason for the things that I do. During the scene we worked today, I was requesting my passport back from Bouc. I quickly realized that I did not know the reason behind this action. What does Mrs. Hubbard need a passport for? Better yet, what does Linda Arden need a passport for? As Mrs. Hubbard, I create a story about a future shooting where I must flee the train and seek cover in Yugoslavia. This got me thinking that my true motives might not be so far from that lie. Maybe Linda Arden is also preparing to run. If I am caught having murdered a man, I might try to escape. If Poirot figures out that I am involved in the murder but he never discovers my true identity, I could make a run for it as “Mrs. Hubbard” and get away with the crime. 

Another motive behind my line might be true anxiety. They say the best lies are grounded in truth.  Maybe I am worried about a world-renown detective scrutinizing my forged passport. I am nervous that the longer Poirot holds onto my passport, the higher the likelihood of him realizing it is fake. There must be a reason large enough for me to insight a moment of intimacy with Bouc in order to distract him. I use a bunch of different tactics to get what I want, but I never thought to question why I want it. All of these layers are hidden within Mrs. Hubbard’s ridiculous line. Linda Arden needs one thing and Mrs. Hubbard must be able to obtain it. I am beginning to think with two minds at once, and inner monologue is a key piece of doing so.

9/4

Today, we finished staging the entire show. We haven’t looked at the final scene since our initial read-throughs, so this was a bit of a shock for me. I had reviewed the scene the day before, but acting it out with full intention is another beast entirely. I was not prepared for the full character shift that I have to do in this scene. Changing from Mrs. Hubbard to Linda Arden in the matter of one line was very challenging. For starters, I had trouble distinguishing the physicality. During the 1930s, women of wealth would be taught how to sit with proper posture and how to move their bodies in a ladylike manner. This—along with the restrictive clothing—doesn’t give me much leeway to play with dramatic shapes. Realistically, Mrs. Hubbard would already sit up straight with her hands in her lap, legs crossed at the ankle, and head held high. Were this play set in modern times, I would have Mrs. Hubbard slouched in her chair with her arms crossed or on her hips, legs stretched out in front of her, and chin tipped low in exasperation. Until this day, I have been able to play Mrs. Hubbard as a proper lady of the Midwest (option number one), even though it goes against my instincts for her character. She is condescending, but not holier-than-thou; she is annoyed, but not bored; she is flirtatious, but not sultry; she is demanding, but not commanding. The list goes on and on. Linda Arden is a great deal her opposite. While Mrs. Hubbard is in-your-face large and in charge, Linda Arden holds a quiet, dignified power. For this reason, I want the two characters’ physicality to reflect this differentiation. 

From this rehearsal, I have gathered that I must marry character and time period.  There is a happy-medium that I am exploring in Mrs. Hubbard’s movement and mannerisms. While her lower back might be straight, her shoulders might curve in a little with weariness. Another factor that I am trying to layer into physicality is age. Mrs. Hubbard presents herself as older than Linda Arden, so I want Mrs. Hubbard’s movements to be a bit more laborious and disjointed. I am finding compromises to fit the reality of 20th century womanhood and my own character intuitions. Her legs might be extended in front of her as opposed to tucked beneath her, but her ankles are crossed. Her arms might be lying unceremoniously in her lap, not crossed, but also not clasped. Although wealthy and “well bred,” Mrs. Hubbard is often inappropriate and outspoken. I want her mannerisms to reflect her rejection of social conformity. 

9/5

Last rehearsal, I was struggling with the very quick accent shift that I have to do in the final scene. One line I am talking and singing with a Minnesota accent, and the next I am supposed to be using “General American” speech. Maybe it’s because I haven’t done the switch in two weeks, but I utterly failed. My accent immediately went into RP (Received Pronunciation) because many of the sounds in “General American” speech are similar to RP. When I make a vowel sound in my “General American” speech that is the same as a vowel sound in RP, my voice automatically takes me to RP. Marc says that when you train your voice for a specific dialect, you create a path to easily navigate those sounds. Even though I am using a different dialect, that path still exists and naturally draws me towards it. The work of the actor is to create a new path. 

Today, Marc and I discussed dropping the “General American” speech. As a dialect coach, he picked up on the incorrect sounds I was making. I kept fluctuating between the two, which made for a very discombobulated delivery. He thought that it would be best if I just dropped the accent all together and just spoke with my “Maddie voice.” I agreed with him, even though it was hard to leave all of my hard work behind. The films that I had watched, the notes I had taken, and the voice recordings I listened to were all for naught. At least, that is how it felt initially. Honestly, it was a load off my shoulders to not have to worry about the second accent again. We are two weeks away from opening, and it is one less thing to overwhelm me. While on stage in the final scene, all I can think about is vocal posture, vowel sounds, and sharp consonants. I am not focusing on the emotional journey or Linda Arden’s inner monologue. This is not okay. If I were in the wings, I would be able to say a few sentences in “General American” speech and easily find my accent without a worry. Since I am onstage the entire time, that is not an option. At the end of the day, Marc has saved me from a lot of stress and I think that some of the characteristics of “General American” speech might carry over.

9/6 

We did a full work-through of Act 2 today. I incorporated as many of Marc’s accent notes into my performance as I could. He asked me to scale back on the Minnesota accent yesterday so that it doesn’t come across as farcical. When we first began working on accents, Marc sent me an email with useful links and reference videos. Somehow during the last few weeks, I have increased the strength of my Minnesota accent so it seems ingenuine. My accent is currently at a level 10, and Marc wants me to bring it back down to a level 7 or 8. He is worried that it sounds so extremely Minnesota-esque (think Fargo), that the ending will be given away too soon. He wants something less concentrated and more realistic. In rehearsal, I tried to implement that by sliding from a Minnesota 10 and discovering where a 7 might be. It was very hard to tweak my accent after speaking a certain way for hours on end. I kept fluctuating between a 10, 7, 5, and then nearly no accent at all trying to find the sweet spot. Marc definitely had a point—it was coming across as more of a caricature for a Minnesota woman and not the character of a Minnesota woman. Refining the accent will definitely take some time in future rehearsals.

I also got to play with Linda Arden’s speech today. As I have redacted my “General American” speech, I now get to play Linda with my own personal accent. However, I don’t want her to sound exactly as I do in my day to day life. I think that would not align with her history. She has been trained for the stage, a highly acclaimed musical and Shakespearean actress, and she is 53. My voice is too high-pitched and young to suit someone of her age and training. I imagine her to incorporate many of her stage lessons into her daily speech. Linda has sharp consonants, a musicality and flow to her words without too much pitch variation. Like Mrs. Hubbard, I think that Linda’s natural speech is comfortably low in my voice. Speaking in a lower octave allows me to better reflect the age of her character. Throughout rehearsal, I discovered new things about my speech. Linda’s voice is measured and almost calming. I am the leader of this group and I want my voice to reflect how I can put my fellow conspirators at ease. I speak intently and passionately, but I do not raise my voice; I do not need volume to be powerful. My words do not blend together, nor do my sentences die off at the end. Everything about Linda is crisp, polished, and composed, even her speech. 

9/7

Today, we focused on revisiting Act 1. We are supposed to be off-book tomorrow, so I attempted to be as memorized as I could during this rehearsal. We haven’t visited Act 1 in awhile, so it was rough. I felt like a lot of my movements for Mrs. Hubbard were uncomfortable. The physicality I had found in Act 2 would not carry over to Act 1. I kept doing the same thing over and over again, and it felt really hard to break that habit. Similar to a line reading, I found myself stuck in my movements. I felt awkward (partially because I did not have a book in my hand), and my movements were all jumbled. I was very aware of my body and how I was holding myself, but in a bad way. It was almost like our second day of rehearsal when I was discovering Mrs. Hubbard’s physicality for the first time. I, Maddie, was uncomfortable, and therefore it appeared as if Mrs. Hubbard the character was uncomfortable. Apparently, this means I have to revisit physicality for Act 1.

I also struggled today with acting in general. This often happens when you lose your script: you’re focusing on your lines and blocking so much that acting becomes a secondary concern. I had no intent behind my words, no inner monologue, no thought beyond “where do I go” and “what is my next line.” This made for a very poor performance. I felt physically and mentally out of the scenes and very disconnected from my scene partners. This is to be expected when books are out of hand, but it also feels awful as an actor. I am not sure if I learned anything new about Mrs. Hubbard today, besides the fact that I don’t know how to move her body in the first act. 

9/8

Tonight was our first ever designer run and our concrete off-book date. Although this seemed daunting in the beginning, it ended up being a lot easier than I had expected. I knew a lot more of my lines in Act 2 than I had assumed. I should have been focusing less on my lines and more on my character portrayals. Mrs. Hubbard felt very inconsistent throughout the whole show. I kept fluctuating with how I played her; one moment she was assertive and outgoing and the next she was reserved and compliant. From scene to scene, I felt like Mrs. Hubbard changed entirely. I could not keep a steady hold on her character. Because we have never done a run through of the entire show before, this was bound to happen. However, I should have prepared more for the mental energy this show would take. I was off my game, and I had trouble merging Act 1 with Act 2. 

Everything about Mrs. Hubbard felt erratic (and not in a character-choice kind of way). Her movements were not fluid whatsoever. I felt like a newborn foal, waddling around on new legs. All of my physicality felt unnatural, as though I haven’t been working on it for weeks. I couldn’t remember what to do with my hands or how to stand like an older woman. I kept finding myself adjusting my stance mid-way through a scene. Along with the inconsistency of movement, I also kept changing my accent. I would move from a heavy Minnesota accent to barely any accent at all. I may have been mentally exhausted from trying to remember my lines, blocking, entrances and exits, but my acting was once more inadequate. I definitely need to work on blending rehearsals/acts together in the future.  

9/9

I had a very earth shattering discovery in rehearsal today. In the second scene—the first scene where I appear as Mrs. Hubbard—I interact with a young American man named Hector MacQueen. I seek out his acquaintance, asking if he is a fellow American while loudly declaring all of the things that I don’t understand about the East. Marc asked me why I kept vying for MacQueen’s attention, and I told him it was actually for Poirot’s benefit. Marc asked what I meant, and I told him that before I got on the train, I (Mrs. Hubbard) wanted Poirot to write me off as an annoying old American lady. I thought it would make me seem less suspect when he discovered Ratchett’s body and was searching for the killer. If he saw me acting like an obnoxious, inappropriate Mid-western in the hotel, he might be more inclined to trust me later. Therefore, I made sure to speak loudly and expressively while conversing with McQueen in this scene; it is another act meant for Poirot, not MacQueen himself. Marc then looked at me quizzically and asked, “Why would you care what Poirot thinks? You don’t know him yet.” And that was when I realized how deeply wrong I was. 

I don’t know who Poirot is in this first scene. I don’t expect him to be on the train; that is the entire reason why our murder scheme gets derailed. Poirot is the wrench in our plan. He is an unforeseen obstacle that we all must scramble to overcome. If I were to play my actions for Poirot in the scene, that would be nonsensical. No wonder Marc had trouble understanding my objective in the scene: I was acting off of a nonexistent circumstance! Therefore, I must find a new reason to interact with MacQueen. Maybe it is to find comradery; maybe it is to do a bit of method acting before I actually enter the train; maybe it is to test my relationship with the other conspirators to determine how my persona of “Mrs. Hubbard” fits into our narrative; maybe this is Linda Arden’s warm up exercise. Either way, I need to establish a new objective in this scene. 

9/10

Today, I tried to focus on the urgency that the play demands. Marc has been talking a lot about how each character has a sense of urgency that moves the play forward. Every scene has a point, every moment is time sensitive. I tried to explore this today when I was working on the final scene of Act 1. Mrs. Hubbard has just discovered a man in her room the night before, but Bouc does not believe her. In scene 10, I produce a button that was found on the floor beside my bed, matching the buttons found on a conductor’s uniform. I have to make Bouc and Poirot believe that there was a man in my bedroom last night and it is pertinent that he be found. I tried to find ways to drive the scene forward that did not involve rushing my lines. Urgency does not mean speak faster, as Marc says. It is about intent and about the consequences of not moving with urgency. If Poirot does not believe me, I no longer have a reliable story or alibi to secure my spot as a non-suspect. I have to convince him that this story is concrete, a man was in my room (thus proving that I was asleep in bed at around 1am when the murder occurred), and that I have proof to back it up. To find that need for time sensitivity, I imagined that my tale was real. What if I found a man lurking in my room during the wee hours of the morning, no one believed me, and then I woke up to find out that a man was murdered. I would be angry and terrified. I would need the only eligible to find this killer to move quickly. It is a serious matter, and therefore I must give the situation the gravity it deserves.

Another aspect of this urgency is the fact that Mary is about to shoot herself in mere minutes. I must time my story perfectly so that the two events appear connected. A man was murdered, I found the killer in my room, Mary was shot by that same man early the next morning. We are creating clues for Poirot to follow and it must be performed to a tee. This scene is time sensitive because I must get Poirot and Bouc to trust me BEFORE Arbuthnot bursts in looking for Mary which comes BEFORE Mary is shot. Everything must happen chronologically and it begins with me. Although pressure is not normally a good thing, it is necessary to move scene 10 along. 

9/13

We had our second designer run today. I felt that it was significantly better than our first one. I was more in tune with my characters and my movements felt a lot more natural. As opposed to gaining and losing physicality throughout the rehearsal—which happened in our first designer run—the further we got in the show, the more solidified my physicality became. My biggest grievance with today’s run was my deliverance of the line “I always wanted to be a director.” This is the line that switches my portrayal of Mrs. Hubbard to Linda Arden. In the past, I struggled with this same line for accent purposes. Now that I no longer have to do an accent, I am having difficulty finding the meaning behind that line. In fact, this was so obvious that Marc pointed it out as one of my acting notes. He said that I should think of who I was trying to affect with the line—Poirot, Bouc, the moon—and how I need them to react. Marc says that this is the simplest way to view acting as a whole.

So, I will attempt to find that answer. I think that I am trying to affect Poirot with my line. He accuses me of being Linda Arden, the final puzzle piece falling into place. Bouc asks if this is true, and then I respond with  “I always wanted to be a director.” I want Poirot to know that even if he did solve the murder, it was my choice to reveal myself. As Linda, I know that we have been discovered. Poirot has connected all of the dots and he could easily put us into jail. However, it is important that I do not allow him to think that he has the upperhand. As the leader of the group, I must remain calm and always stay five steps ahead. I decide that I want to drop the act; I choose to disclose my secret. He did not drag it out of me or force my hand. 

He is not in control of this situation, I am. Even if realistically this is not the truth, it must appear that way to everyone on the train. Poirot can get no satisfaction from discovering my secret if I divulge it first. If I behave as though it is not groundbreaking knowledge, then Poirot cannot react like he has got one over on me. This is a very delicate chess match and I must tread lightly. 

The secondary meaning behind the line is within the words themselves. “I always wanted to be a director.” The director is the one in charge. They are the leader behind the scenes who orchestrates every move and plans every action. In this line, I am admitting to my involvement in the murder, but I am also declaring myself as the leader. I am saying “I did this, I designed this murder scheme, and I take full responsibility.” In a way, I believe that I am trying to accept the blame of the others. I am the captain of this ship, and if it goes down, I go down with it. Furthermore, I want Poirot to know that I am the one to blame. If anyone gets taken to jail and tried for murder, it should be me. I am asserting myself and I am saying I am not sorry. If you need to arrest someone, take me. 

To answer Marc’s question: I am speaking to Poirot and I need him to respond with uncertainty. I am daring him to proceed with the same amount of confidence that he began with. I want him to stumble and lose what power he thought he had. I need him to understand my role in this murder and how remorseless I am. 

9/14

Today was the first day of Tech rehearsal. We only got through the first scene, where I play little Daisy Armstrong. I practiced my healthy screams that I learned how to do with Marc the other day. In order to make sure that I am not hurting my voice, I must engage my false vocal folds (the part of your voice you use when you clear your throat), create space between my back molars, and round my lips to allow the sound to come out with resonance. I also stick out my tongue when I scream so that it does not press down on the back of my throat and injure my vocal chords. Being backstage allows me to do all of these things correctly and find the vocal posture with ample time. 

We also decided to block this scene differently for technical purposes. We will no longer be using microphones—so our voices have to naturally carry to the back of the theatre—and Greta and little Daisy actually move around the stage. We run from stage right to stage left while delivering our lines, which actually helps to make the actions more believable. We are meant to be running quickly up the stairs in the scene, so being out of breath helps with the authenticity of the lines. Similar to one of our early rehearsals where we actually performed the actions of this scene, our new blocking allows me to play Daisy with more ease. Running around, losing my breath, feeling the high of adrenaline all work to produce a more genuine scene. 

9/15

On our second day of tech rehearsal, we got costumes. For me, this is one of the most anticipated moments of the entire process. It is another layer of character that I am able to put on, another form of expression as an actor. I love my costumes for this show. They feel like an extension of Mrs. Hubbard, and every minute detail is so necessary. Her color palette is jewel-toned, elaborate, and bold, just like Mrs. Hubbard’s personality; her clothing, shoes, and accessories all match one another perfectly; her fingers, ears, and neck are bejeweled with diamonds and pearls. Everything about the outfit screams “flashy” and “in your face,” which is exactly how I have been portraying Mrs. Hubbard. From the tilt of her hat just so, to the bright pink bows on the buckle of her heels that match the bright pink gloves on her hand, everything about Mrs. Hubbard draws the eye. Her costume takes up space, and that makes it much easier to play a character who owes every room she walks in. 

Another aspect of costuming is the way that Mrs. Hubbard moves in her clothing. The skirts are tight around the waist and the blouses are tucked in with care. In order to sit, I must arrange my body and clothing in a specific way so that I do not mess anything up. Where I was once concerned about the physicality of my character, I now am afforded room to play. The costumes are restrictive in the best possible way. They allow me to move as a woman of the time period would because they are structured around that style. Even if I wanted to cross my arms or fold into a chair, I physically would not be able to. The costumes force me to move in a period-appropriate way. I asked myself many new questions during this run: how must I hold my head to keep my hat in its position; how do I gracefully slide my gloves over my bulbous wedding ring; how do I move about the stage in delicate, long night clothing without tripping over myself? I am finding moments to adjust old physicality and explore new moments. 

9/16

We got through a lot of the show today in tech. We began in Act 1 scene 4 and made it all the way through the first scene of Act 2. This was very beneficial for me because those scenes are the most difficult for me to perform (besides the last scene!) It takes a lot of concentration and energy to move the show forward and remain two characters at once. I found that when I did scene 8 today—the scene where I find a man in my room—it felt more authentic than it ever has before. I credit a lot of that to the scream-work I did with Marc. Mrs. Hubbard wakes up to see a man in her compartment and screams in terror. I have never done the scream prior to this rehearsal, so I did not know how it was going to affect my acting. As the revolve is turning, I cry out and immediately jump out of bed to call for help. I was very nervous about screaming today, since I have yet to do it full out. My heart was pumping and my adrenaline was high right before I opened my mouth and called out. This turned out to be very beneficial because it helped me to play the fear of Mrs. Hubbard more genuinely. Physiologically, my body was reacting to the nerves of screaming the same way that Mrs. Hubbard would react to the terror of finding a man in my room. I didn’t have to work my way into hysterics because I was already breathing rapidly and feeling anxious. This was a wonderful discovery to make, as I have had trouble accessing the heightened emotion necessary to bring this scene to life. It turns out that  screaming was the key all along. 

We also wore wigs for the first time today, which was incredibly helpful. Similar to the costumes, the wigs helped to enhance the believability of our characters. Mrs. Hubbard’s wig is styled in a way that an older woman might have worn in the 1930s. It is an updo with swooped edges and a small section of bangs. As soon as I put the wig on, I felt a shift come over me. It was like my body naturally responded to the wig, transforming into an older woman that matched perfectly with the style of my hair. Even the way I held my neck was different. I have yet to feel this magical transformation from just one part of the process, but I look forward to incorporating these discoveries into my actions.

9/17

We teched the end of the show today and I had a very odd experience that was new to me as an actor. In the final scene of the show, I am revealed to be Linda Arden, wherein I make a speech about why detective Poirot should let us go. This has always been the most difficult scene for me to perform because it takes a lot of mental and emotional energy. Throughout the scene, I must be trying to stay 3 steps ahead of Poirot while externally portraying boredom and disbelief. Mentally, this is the most draining scene of the entire show. For whatever reason, I found myself severely anxious to do this scene long before we even started it. It began towards the beginning of rehearsal when we were only in Act 2 scene 1. I had a pit in my stomach, like I knew something terrible was about to occur. I felt nauseated, and constantly threatened by the pinprick of tears. This remained even when I was off-stage or on a ten minute break. Never before have I felt the anticipation and fear of discovery this strongly. Linda Arden’s feelings were visceral. I could hardly concentrate on the scenes at hand because I was trying not to burst into tears. There is so much pressure! Everything has to be meticulously done, all the loose ends tied up, and no one can drop their guise for a minute. Linda is doing everything she can to keep Poirot far away from the truth of the crime. I finally felt that today. That terror that seizes you and never leaves you, even when you are in the safety of your own room and out of prying eyes. Whether on-stage or in the dressing room, I felt panicked. My body was responding completely in character and it was alarming. 

When the time finally came to perform the last scene, it was different from every run before. I was very quickly overwhelmed by all of the feelings that had been building. I felt myself shattering, coming undone by the fact that everything I did was for nothing. Every word of my final monologue, I felt. It was like the words were springing from my own mind, not a script. I was in no way prepared for that scene to feel so raw. I could barely speak over the lump in my throat, the rapidity of my breath, and the pressure building in my head. I was connected with Linda on a deep-rooted level and I made so many discoveries in the process. The pressure of this conspiracy, the burden of death, the rage of confronting the murder of my loved ones time and again must have been astronomically painful. I cannot build that monologue from the final scene itself; it must stem from the entirety of the show. Every moment of Linda’s life in the play leads to that explanation. It would be a discredit to the role rob myself of the opportunity to play her character fully.   

9/18

Today was our first run through in tech. As always, this brought new problems to the surface. For starters, I could not get my jacket open in the second scene, which prolonged my monologue and stopped part of the action. I was so aware of incorporating props/costumes at the correct time today that I was acting based off of memory. I was hardly conscious of the lines I was saying, which does not bode well for the performance overall. I was concentrating all of my energy on getting my wedding ring uncaught from my cloth gloves, unclipping my overcoat, keeping my hat at its tilted angle without falling off my head, and all of this while speaking animatedly to MacQueen. The start of the show got off to a rough start, to say the least. 

As we went on, there were a few more hiccups. I had to sing along to a recording of “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” today inside of making up my own rhythm and octave. This was hard because the key of the recorded version was way beneath the key I had been practicing. Some of the notes were almost too low for me to sing, especially in accent. It was also a different version of the song than what I had learned, so I was off-beat and out of tune. This would not bother me as much if I hadn’t worked so hard to build confidence in this scene. While performing it in the run through, I had a difficult time staying in character when I knew that I sounded bad. 

Today also marked the first time for utilizing the revolve to its fullest extent. I had to figure out how to time my actions to the pace of the revolve. It moved slower than we had originally anticipated, so I had to create more activities to fill free periods of time. I also had to know when to get on and off the revolve, especially in the first act where I have a quick-change. Although this was not horribly strenuous, this did take some time for getting accustomed to. I had to remember to pay attention to the scene at hand and not what the revolve was doing. 

9/19

I found new ways to deliver many of my lines today. I would consider this run-through a day devoted to playing and exploring. Many of my castmates were reacting to their circumstances in different ways, which in turn made me respond accordingly. When one person changes their delivery, it has a domino effect on the other characters. The way that someone says a line will determine how you say yours; today, we were feeding off of one another in the best way. I discovered that some of my lines are meant to make others laugh intentionally. When you play a humorous character, the words that they speak are not supposed to be funny to themselves. They are speaking realistically, not “playing the funny.” It would be very simple for me to play Mrs. Hubbard as both funny and inappropriate. The difficulty about comedic characters is that they don’t think they are funny or inappropriate, they believe that their words are entirely called for.  Today, I found that this might not be the case for Mrs. Hubbard. She might actually be seeking out laughter more often than I had assumed. She does not intend to make the audience laugh, but the other characters on-stage with her. I played around with that idea, speaking some of my lines with a new intention and waiting to see if I impacted my scene partners in the way I desired. It had a large pay-off. In scenes where I had previously struggled to find a purpose for speaking my lines, I now found a new tool to explore with. 

I also came across more moments where Linda Arden might peek through the alias of Mrs.Hubbard. Today was truly a day of discovery! I kept finding moments where Linda was communicating with others on-stage wordlessly. For example, in Act 2 scene 1, Greta is having a hard time recovering from the gory shooting of Mary. She seeks out my eyes for help, and today I met them. Although I might have appeared as Mrs. Hubbard on the outside, I was communicating with Greta as Linda. I was telling her, get a hold of herself and calm down. This is a very delicate situation and I cannot have a young woman’s nerves getting the better of her. I said, if you cannot handle this, then please remove yourself from the situation. I will not blame you for leaving, but I might blame you for staying in this state. All of these words were expressed through seconds of eye contact. It was exhilarating to feel like I was walking a tightrope at this moment. What if someone saw and noticed the way we communicated in the silence? What assumptions might be drawn? What if I accidentally dropped my facade? Could Poirot uncover the truth from this one silent exchange? All of these questions helped to build the urgency and intensity of the situation. 

9/20

We had our Pay What You Can performance today. Although we have had designers and crew in the room with us, we have yet to experience a full theatre packed with people. The largest obstacle for me to overcome was the addition of audience interaction and responses. As Mrs. Hubbard is a rather silly character, she gains a lot of reaction from the audience. I know that this will change from day-to-day, but generally, Mrs. Hubbard brings quite a bit of comedy to the show. I expected the audience to laugh at certain points, but there were many moments in today’s performance that caught me off guard. They laughed at points that I was not expecting, and I quickly realized that I was not giving them enough time to respond. It is a hard thing to balance. On the one hand, I hate to cut the audience off when they are in the midst of reacting because it might decrease their desire to react in the future. If you don’t give them enough time, the audience stops interacting all together. On the other hand, I would hate to give them too much time to react in case they don’t need it. I do not want it to come across as though I am seeking a reaction and waiting for them to laugh at something they don’t find funny. 

I also was finding ways to overcome real-life obstacles and technical difficulties. In scene 5, where I am speaking with Michel over the intercom, his response was not working. It is a recorded voice over, so if the recording does not play, the start of the scene does not work. I thought that maybe I was not giving the stage manager a large enough cue, so I tried to make my movements bigger and words louder. At a certain point, I ran out of lines to say and had to make a split second decision. If I was really in this situation—on a train, trying to get the attention of the conductor by buzzing him, calling out with no response—how would I react? Almost instinctively, I decided that I would give up on calling the conductor and move into the next half of the scene. I threw my hands up in irritation, and moved to my makeup bag to begin my next task. My mind was whirling, trying to catch-up and figure out the logistics of my next step. If the recordings were not working, would “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” also not play? Would I have to sing that acapella? Would our stage manager be mad at me for skipping multiple lines in order to move the show along. All of this was zooming through my head as I tried to remember where my lines for Michel through the intercom stopped and my next lines began. At the last moment, Michel’s voice came crackling through, right as I was about to begin a new action. Although I as an actor felt relief, Mrs. Hubbard was thinking “finally!” I played that scene entirely differently because the circumstances had changed. My responses and actions were driven by new emotions. Although I would hardly wish for technical mishaps, it did give me an opportunity to shake off old habits and find more play. 

9/21

It was opening night today. My friends and professors were all in the audience, and my family was in the front row. Although I love the support that I get from the audience on opening night, there is a considerable amount of pressure and distraction that comes with it. Scenes where I must look into the audience and place objects within the fourth wall are harder because there is a high likelihood that I see someone I know. It is more challenging to stay in character on opening night because Maddie’s people are in the crowd watching. 

I think the overall performance went well. Yesterday was a good run and it helped to ground us more in the atmosphere of performing in front of an audience. I felt more comfortable with my character today, but it did take me a scene or two to detach myself from the audience. In the first scene, I was very aware that my mom was in the front row and would hear me crying out “mama, daddy.” She would undoubtedly cry, which is not something you want your mother to do. In scene 2, I could see her and her friend out of the corner of my eye. When it came time for me to call out for the waiter, I had to actively shift my attention. It was after this scene—where Mrs. Hubbard is really put on display for the first time—that I found my footing. My comedic timing was better than yesterday, and I gave the audience more opportunities to laugh and respond. 

By the middle of the first act, I was feeling good. I had successfully disengaged from “Maddie,” and was fully in the show. I found new discoveries with the songs that I sang, making up ways to better annoy Ratchett. I played around with volume, cadence, adding on runs and riffs to prolong certain verses. Although I could not see him through the door, I could gather his reaction by the way that he breathed or the anger with which he stomped around his compartment. I liked today’s discoveries and I plan to expand on them in the next few days. 

9/22

It took a while for me to get into today’s show. I was very tired, which I am afraid might have leaked into my acting. The anxiety and adrenaline of opening night has left me drained, and this performance lagged a bit because of that. I lost my sense of urgency and time sensitivity. My acting in the first few scenes came purely from memory. I don’t remember what choices I made prior to Act 1 scene 8. I felt like I was going through the motions and unintentionally warming up on-stage. This is never something that you want as an actor. I went to the dressing room with plenty of time to warm-up, but nothing stuck. I was actively trying to get out of my funk, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of weariness. It wasn’t until the second act that the show really began to pick up speed. In the final scene, I felt everything a little too strongly. My body responded instantly to Poirot’s interrogation of each passenger, and I actively had to tamp down the need to cry. Mentally, I was freaking out as he uncovered the truth. I thought for sure the audience could see the fear on my face, no matter how hard I tried to hide it. When I finally got to my small monologue begging Poirot to let us go, I could barely get through it. I kept choking on my words, thinking about what would happen if he didn’t let us off. I am not sure if it was tiredness, but I simply didn’t have the effort to hold back my despair today. The walls were down, for better or worse. I am not sure whether it was Linda Arden begging Poirot or Maddie Baylor.

9/23

Today, I had a bad performance. I was so disconnected from the actions on-stage that I had trouble focusing on my character. Mrs. Hubbard was all over the place in this performance. During high-stakes situations, I did not feel that I was able to match the energy of those around me. I kept zoning out and catching myself losing my place in the scene. Twice, I messed up lines. Generally, this is not a humongous deal, but it is for me. This is the first time that I have ever completely flubbed two lines on-stage. I was still able to save the content of the lines, but the words were out of order and a jumbled mess. The first time I did it, I thought it was just nerves. The second time it happened, I knew I was unfocused. I kept being distracted by the smallest things, like one audience member who consistently coughed throughout the entire performance. When the final scene came, I had trouble pushing past what I could clearly hear coming from the fourth side. Usually, I can block the outside world from entering my mental space during a show. This was not the case today.

Another struggle I faced today came with the new blocking for the revolve. Originally, the turntable moves downstage to stage right as we enter Act 1 scene 8. This is the scene where I cry out and claim that there is a man in my room. I have worked really hard to make this scene authentic and urgent. It demands that I drive the scene forward in order to get what I want. I need Bouc to believe me and Poirot to hear me. I need them to think that I am a victim and not complacent in the crime. We have spent rehearsals going through this scene, and I have devoted personal time to exploring my character’s actions in this scene. During tech, Marc helped me block when my scream would occur. Initially, I was the last passenger to be seen when the revolve turned around. I would scream at the last possible minute, the lights would come up, and I would cry for help because there was a man in my room. However, the revolve is now going the opposite way. I am the first person to be seen and our compartments are lit. Therefore, my previous actions do not make sense at all. The audience can clearly see that there is no man in my room, and therefore I appear crazy. There is something to be said for theatre “suspending reality,” but this is a stretch. I did not know that the revolve was turning the other way until tonight’s performance. I had a really hard time acting in Act 1 scene 8. I felt like the audience didn’t believe there was someone in my room (which is essential), and I felt a little ridiculous screaming and pretending to see something that wasn’t there. I could not play and explore today because I was so stuck in my own head. I was having trouble adapting to the new set of circumstances, and the entire scene fell flat. I am disappointed by my acting tonight, but every performance is not going to be a knock-out. 

9/24

My parents and sister came to today’s performance and I felt like I was very aware of their presence in a different way this afternoon. On opening night when my family was also here, I felt a pressure to perform. Today, I did not have that. Instead, I was filled with a deep-seated despair. As the play progressed and I had to maintain the facade of Mrs. Hubbard, I grew tired. I was making new discoveries and having fun as an actor, but I was tired as Linda Arden. Certain lines came out differently today in reaction to this change. My moments of urgency were more pushy, my fear greater. I was invested today in a way that I haven’t been for the past two performances. Things were falling apart, plans were coming undone, and Linda was spiraling. By the time we got to the last scene, I was ready. As Poirot unearthed the truth, all I could think about was my family in the crowd. They support me in everything that I do and I am so proud to call them mine. But no life is promised, no life-span guaranteed. Daisy’s life was taken at five years old. Her mother’s, father’s, unborn sibling’s, and the housemaid’s were all taken too soon. Other children were murdered, other families unrepairable. What makes this story any different from my life? Who says…There is nothing guaranteed ever. To separate myself fully from this situation is to remain ignorant. I found such clarity in the final scene today that I was truly speaking from my own heart as I described the most terrible moment in a human being’s life. It felt raw and it felt real in a way that surprised me. My personal connection to the story was put into practice today.  

9/28

Today was our first performance back on-stage since last Sunday. Generally, this show tends to be the rockiest of all performances in the second week. Tonight was no exception. I was definitely warming up as I went through the first handful of scenes. It wasn’t so much that I was unprepared to act, it was more that I had left Mrs. Hubbard unattended for a few days. It took a little time to comfortably get her back in my system. I tried to walk around backstage with her little hip-shuffle to get the physicality moving. My accent was wavering throughout the performance today. At some points, it was very strong, and at other moments it was barely there. I had a hard time finding the proper level of “mid-western” dialect that I should be using. It has only been four days since I last played Mrs. Hubbard, but today felt like I was rediscovering her character all over again. Her speech and movements were a tad stale and discombobulated. It wasn’t a bad performance for me, it just felt rather mundane.  

9/29

By tonight’s performance, I was back in my stride and ready to roll with the story. After one week of acting in front of an audience, I have gotten used to the general interactions that we have. Every now and then, they might surprise me with a laugh or gasp, but usually I know what to expect. My timing is much better and it feels more natural to take a beat that it did the first night. Now, it feels like part of Mrs. Hubbard’s personality rather than Maddie’s decision as an actor. It also has become easier to cover mistakes that are made throughout the show. Tonight, in the middle of scene 2, my hat fell off. It fell straight off my head in the middle of the line I was saying. Instead of stressing about ways to cover the mishap up and play it off, I decided not to think. I just picked it right back up, as simple as that. I didn’t miss a beat, didn’t stutter in my speech, didn’t even acknowledge that it wasn’t supposed to fall off. In day-to-day life, clothing pieces fall off or get twisted. It is not an irregular occurrence, it is pretty ordinary. I did not consciously make the decision to pick up my hat, it just happened as a natural reaction. Drop something, pick it up. If I were to have treated it as a mistake, that would have drawn more attention to the action than was necessary. I have found that through the performances, I have allowed every action to be my character’s. When Bouc started to interrupt me in scene 8 today, I just kept speaking. Mrs. Hubbard would not allow a man to interrupt her while she is lamenting about her fears. She would plow ahead, Bouc be damned. Unknowingly, I chose to keep that mentality today. Bouc started his line too early, and I just kept on talking. I cut him off from cutting me off because that is Mrs. Hubbard in her purest form: unapologetically outspoken. It worked because it was natural. We were behaving like human beings, not actors. Once Mrs. Hubbard is on-stage, I hardly have control anymore. It is her movements, her thoughts being spoken aloud, her reactions. I have personified her to an extent that I sometimes don’t realize that I am behaving like her off-stage. I have adopted parts of her, just as she has adopted parts of me. 

9/30

Today’s performance was all about playing and finding new discoveries. I felt like everyone in the cast was giving me different things to respond to. There was an energy shift today, as if everyone agreed that we would explore alternative paths. My lines felt like they flowed from my own thoughts, rather than a page in a script. I felt more comfortable than I have in any performance thus far. My reactions to the given circumstances were appropriate and unforced. In Act 1 scene 8, my discovery of a man in my room felt nuanced. I wasn’t just afraid, I was confused and indignant. Bouc and I built off of one another, reacting to the same lines with different emotions fueling their meanings. He would ask me a question, and I would respond with the answer. Although that seems simplistic, that is one of the harder parts of acting. My answer was not predetermined, the words not rehearsed. It was real and authentic, so much so that I almost didn’t have to think about it. In Act 2 scene 1, I almost missed my exit because I was so preoccupied with my inner monologue. I was thinking about Mary shooting herself, the blood on the ground, and the risk she took, that I almost didn’t follow the Princess off the stage. I found new ways to interact with the people around me and the props I was given. It was a day of genuine exploration and it was exciting! 

10/1

Today was our last performance. It was a tough show to get through, knowing that this was the end. I was both looking forward to and dreading the moment that the cue lights went off and the show began. I had butterflies in my stomach for the first time since we opened. I felt a new sense of urgency with my character. Mrs. Hubbard was grounded in my own realization that time was running out. Today was our last chance to convince Poirot and get away with our murder. We had no other choice and I was not letting this opportunity pass just because unexpected events were popping up. Cassetti had to die and we would find a way to stay innocent. Our show took on a gravity that I was not used to. It didn’t go faster and it wasn’t more hectic, but it felt more vulnerable. There was a depth to Mrs. Hubbard that I was finding in each scene. I was nervous that Maddie’s thoughts about closing night would trickle into my performance, but that didn’t happen. I was locked in and willing to play. Even in our final performance, I was making discoveries. As Marc says, the work is never over. There was a purpose behind every word that I uttered, and today, I did not take that for granted. When we got to the final scene, I felt myself letting go of my walls. This was it: we were found out and we were going to jail because justice was never served. When I gave my monologue, there was a plea in my voice. I was enlightening Poirot, but I was also begging him. I needed him to understand, more than I ever did in any other performance. This was our last shot, our hail mary. When he told us to “go with God,” my relief was not performative. Down to the depths of my soul, I felt that disbelief and exhaustion that Linda Arden was experiencing. The final performance was not the best of all of our shows, but it was exactly what I wanted it to be. 

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 Final Reflection:

I learned so much about myself as an actor and human being through this play. The research and preparation that I put into creating this character far surpsasses any production that I have done at UMW. I have done character work, daily journals, accent preparation, and everything else that is necessary for creating an authentic character. However, this show asked that I be entirely vulnerable and prepared to lay myself bare. I have yet to experience a performance as visceral as the ones in Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express. Although this show is a comedy, it weighed very heavily on my heart. My greatest fear in life is death. I am deeply terrified of my own death or the death of my loved ones. It is hard to even write about, to put that idea in the ether. When I first read this play, I did not instantly fall in love with it. I saw the ending coming a mile away, and I thought it seemed a little corny: eight stab wounds, eight murderers, poetic justice, etc. It was not until I was cast as Mrs. Hubbard that I experienced the nuance of this play. It was begging the viewers to reflect on their own code of ethics and decide what they would do if they were put into this situation. Would they let the passengers go? Would they have killed Cassetti? I found a deep connection to Linda Arden that I was ill-prepared for. She is a woman twice my age who has lived through an unimaginable experience, and yet I understand her. She responds to the tragedy with an aptitude and ambition that I was in awe of. Her love of her family is something that I relate to on a core level. Her actions, although excessive, are completely founded. To this day, I am not sure that I would not wish to do the same. 

I find it very hard to leave this show when I return home every night. Some days, these ideas torment me for hours. I cannot help but put myself into this situation and think endlessly about my own response. If someone took my child, parent, or sibling, I am not sure I could survive that loss. It would be unbearable in a way that I do not wish to imagine. It would stay with me forever, coloring every decision, every milestone, every day of my life. In order to do this story justice, I had to conceptualize this reality. This was the hardest part of the process for me, and it is an emotional journey that I will not soon forget. This character and this story will stick with me for many months to come. I loved playing a character outside of my comfort zone. I loved being extroverted and outrageous to the fullest extent and playing with everything in my arsenal. I loved saying my lines and using my accent to enhance Mrs. Hubbards humor. She was a delight to portray and I am eternally grateful to be cast in her role. I am also thankful that I got to experience the flip-side of her character, Linda Arden. The depth and strength of Linda was humbling to play. It took a lot of energy—mentally and emotionally—to give my final monologue each night. It required me to drop my walls and truly allow myself to feel,  unapologetically. This is scary in and of itself. It devastates me to know that people have truly lived the reality of this story, but I hope that I was able to portray this character in a respectful way. I am most proud of this show and the growth that I have done throughout this production. Even though it was difficult for various reasons, I would not change any part of this experience.