MEDEA - Part II

Rehearsals for Medea were incredibly difficult.  The play itself is challenging for undergraduates and the role of Medea demands a huge expenditure of energy.  Mr. Russell wisely directed us to play against the inherent melodrama of the script.  If I became too big in my portrayal, he would come to my side and say in a low voice, "You're milking it a bit."  That's all I needed to hear.  It turned out we were perfectly attuned to one another.  Mr. Russell instinctively knew how to direct me.  He needed only to say a few words and I knew what he wanted. This kind of rapport between director and performer is very rare as I was to realize many times in the coming years.  I was working in a joyous creative bubble that real life could not pierce.  Until it did.

Medea kills her sons at the end of the play.

During the last week of rehearsal I developed a painful sore throat and could barely speak.  I went to the Infirmary feeling desperate and they decided to admit me.  I knew if I stayed I would miss the role of a lifetime and nothing would keep me from playing Medea.  I told the nurse I would go and get my nightgown.  I left and didn't look back.  Hysterical, I called Mr. Russell who sent me to a throat specialist who prescribed powerful antibiotics and--miracle of miracles--I regained my voice and did the two performances.  Something quite magical happened while I was onstage--something that had never happened before or since.  I was completely confident and in command.  I wanted the play to never end. In my mind's eye I can still see the long lines of friends and strangers waiting to tell me they had been moved, that the play had meant something to them.  They offered me flowers and small gifts.  I shall never forget it.  I looked over at Mr. Russell to whom I owed  my performance.  He had a wistful smile on his face and I suddenly knew that nothing like this would ever happen to me again.  I would never perform as well again; I would never have such sensitive direction and surely no one would line up to speak to me after a performance.  And I was right--no theatrical experience has ever come close to that one.  In my memory we are all bathed in golden light and smiling at one another.

Note:  None of the above pictures come from our Wesleyan production of Medea.  There are no extant photographs from our production, but I would give anything to have one.