wasn’t impressive enough that he had the part memorized, he also managed to bring Lancelot to life on the stage. Watching him speak, I could almost imagine him as the legendary warrior ready to devote himself to King Arthur’s cause.
When he finished everyone applauded. We hadn’t done that for the other tryouts, but none of them had the part memorized or delivered the lines so flawlessly.
On the way back to his seat, Rhys walked past Josh, who didn’t look too happy at this turn of events. He glowered and slumped back in his seat with his arms folded, a grim look on his face. He was a competitor and it was obvious he didn’t like to lose. And he would be hard pressed to get the part after Rhys’ performance.
“That was great,” I whispered to Rhys once he sat back down. “Where did you learn to act like that?”
“One of the advantages of living a long time,” he said, “is that you tend to pick up this kind of thing.”
Once all the acting try-outs were complete it was time for the singing portion. When I was called to the stage I sang “The Simple Joys of Maidenhood” where Guinevere sings about the unfairness of her prearranged marriage. It was one of my favorites – poignant and humorous at the same time. I had sung this song a thousand times growing up, and when I got on stage I tried to imagine myself as Guinevere, caught between her duty to her people and her desire to live her own life.
I could relate to the girl.
With the first note I knew I had knocked this out of the park. I hit every note, nailed every word, and really felt the song.
When it was over I felt flush with excitement. I took a quick bow and hurried off back to my seat to watch the other performers.
Josh chose to sing “C’Est Moi” one of Lancelot’s best songs. Once again I was surprised at how well he did. His voice was nowhere near strong or deep enough to do the song real justice, but it wasn’t really fair for me to compare him to Robert Goulet on the Broadway recording.
Rhys was the last singer. When Mrs. Abrams called him up, he walked very slowly and deliberately to the stage. As he walked I could almost see him changing, growing older, more mature. When he stood on stage and faced the audience, he almost seemed like a different person.
I had always considered myself to be a good actress, but Rhys could have been a professional. His ability to take on a persona through expression and subtle mannerisms was amazing.
And then he sang.
I hadn’t exactly expected him to be horrible, but I certainly didn’t expect him to be good. And he wasn’t just good. He was why-wasn’t-he-a-recording-star good. He’d selected “If Ever I Would Leave You”, the song Lancelot sings to Guinevere expressing his undying love for her. His voice was breathtaking, pounding out the deep notes and soaring on the high ones.
His eyes met mine, and as he sang I felt the words deep within me. After a moment, my chest felt constricted and I realized that I had been so entranced that I had actually stopped breathing. I forced myself to relax and breathe normally.
There was silence when he finished. We were all too stunned to do anything. By the time we had recovered enough to think of applauding, he had already climbed down from the stage.
“Thank you, Rhys,” said Mrs. Abrams. “Thank you all for participating. I will take the weekend to go over my notes and Monday morning I will post the cast list outside my classroom door. Have a wonderful weekend!”
***
Saturday morning began with the doorbell ringing at ten o’clock. I had spent most of Friday night obsessing over the auditions and what the cast list would be on Monday, and consequently didn’t get to sleep until about two in the morning.
When I heard the doorbell, I woke up just long enough to turn over and go back to bed. But more blissful sleep was denied me when I heard a knock at my door.
“I’m still asleep,” I said.
Mom opened the door and poked her head in.
When he finished everyone applauded. We hadn’t done that for the other tryouts, but none of them had the part memorized or delivered the lines so flawlessly.
On the way back to his seat, Rhys walked past Josh, who didn’t look too happy at this turn of events. He glowered and slumped back in his seat with his arms folded, a grim look on his face. He was a competitor and it was obvious he didn’t like to lose. And he would be hard pressed to get the part after Rhys’ performance.
“That was great,” I whispered to Rhys once he sat back down. “Where did you learn to act like that?”
“One of the advantages of living a long time,” he said, “is that you tend to pick up this kind of thing.”
Once all the acting try-outs were complete it was time for the singing portion. When I was called to the stage I sang “The Simple Joys of Maidenhood” where Guinevere sings about the unfairness of her prearranged marriage. It was one of my favorites – poignant and humorous at the same time. I had sung this song a thousand times growing up, and when I got on stage I tried to imagine myself as Guinevere, caught between her duty to her people and her desire to live her own life.
I could relate to the girl.
With the first note I knew I had knocked this out of the park. I hit every note, nailed every word, and really felt the song.
When it was over I felt flush with excitement. I took a quick bow and hurried off back to my seat to watch the other performers.
Josh chose to sing “C’Est Moi” one of Lancelot’s best songs. Once again I was surprised at how well he did. His voice was nowhere near strong or deep enough to do the song real justice, but it wasn’t really fair for me to compare him to Robert Goulet on the Broadway recording.
Rhys was the last singer. When Mrs. Abrams called him up, he walked very slowly and deliberately to the stage. As he walked I could almost see him changing, growing older, more mature. When he stood on stage and faced the audience, he almost seemed like a different person.
I had always considered myself to be a good actress, but Rhys could have been a professional. His ability to take on a persona through expression and subtle mannerisms was amazing.
And then he sang.
I hadn’t exactly expected him to be horrible, but I certainly didn’t expect him to be good. And he wasn’t just good. He was why-wasn’t-he-a-recording-star good. He’d selected “If Ever I Would Leave You”, the song Lancelot sings to Guinevere expressing his undying love for her. His voice was breathtaking, pounding out the deep notes and soaring on the high ones.
His eyes met mine, and as he sang I felt the words deep within me. After a moment, my chest felt constricted and I realized that I had been so entranced that I had actually stopped breathing. I forced myself to relax and breathe normally.
There was silence when he finished. We were all too stunned to do anything. By the time we had recovered enough to think of applauding, he had already climbed down from the stage.
“Thank you, Rhys,” said Mrs. Abrams. “Thank you all for participating. I will take the weekend to go over my notes and Monday morning I will post the cast list outside my classroom door. Have a wonderful weekend!”
***
Saturday morning began with the doorbell ringing at ten o’clock. I had spent most of Friday night obsessing over the auditions and what the cast list would be on Monday, and consequently didn’t get to sleep until about two in the morning.
When I heard the doorbell, I woke up just long enough to turn over and go back to bed. But more blissful sleep was denied me when I heard a knock at my door.
“I’m still asleep,” I said.
Mom opened the door and poked her head in.
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