Just Listen

I owe Leonardo DeCaprio thanks.

During the worst time of my life, I watched very little TV, and fewer movies. I just couldn't handle the emotional overload. I'd been an actor and stage technician since I was in junior high school, but I was currently doing no theater; I didn't even go to see my friends in their shows.

My husband tried to interest me in things. When our church asked for performers for our yearly Christmas program, he was chirpy and upbeat. "That sounds just like you!" he said.

"No. It doesn't. It sounds like someone I used to be. I'm not even sure if I'd recognize her if I met her."

Sometimes people don't know what to do, because I'm calm and articulate when they expect me to be weepy and incoherent. They don't understand how I process pain, and wonder how upset I could be if I'm still functional. They miss the point. The best description I can give is being on autopilot. I will keep functioning just fine, but there's no feeling behind it.

One day my husband called me into the living room and pointed out something on TV. He seemed excited, but a glance at the screen made my toes curl. It was an inner city scene, lots of graffiti, barbed wire and trash strewn lots. I do not react well to such circumstances when I'm at my best, and I could not imagine how anything that happened in such a place would be anything that I would want to see in my current state of mind. Every one of my nerves was rubbed raw.

"What makes you think that I would want to watch..."

He interrupted. "Listen!"

"I don't want to see..."

He was insistent. "Don't look. Listen."

Annoyed, I closed my eyes, only so I could do whatever I needed to do to get the TV turned off. Slowly, something penetrated.

The words.

Those words.

I knew those words, every one of them, by heart. I knew what was coming next, what had gone before - every syllable.

When you're in a show, you know the scenes that you're in best, naturally. You may sit through readings or rehearsals of the scenes you're not in, but they're not carved as deeply into your memory as your own scenes. During actual performances, when you're offstage you're most likely in the dressing room or "green room," the equivalent of an employee lounge. You might be joking, playing cards or chatting. You might be changing, doing your hair or using the restroom.

When you're in the booth, though, running the lights or sound, or stage managing and sitting on the headset calling cues, you see every moment of every performance. You hang on every word, because your job depends on responding correctly at the proper time.

Years before, I had been the light board operator for a production of Romeo and Juliet. I watched weeks of rehearsals, and then two performances a day for weeks. I knew every word of the show, every inflection, every pause. I was hearing them now.

I opened my eyes and stared at the screen. I watched Leonardo DiCaprio and John Leguizamo say the familiar words, in a very unfamiliar place. I like both of the actors, and I love the words (although this play is not one of my favorites). Could I handle the urban decay, the violence, the senselessness, the deaths?

I have seen Shakespeare performed by purists, who insist on period costumes and sets. I've seen his work updated in a variety of ways, including as a Wild West show. I've heard it in the original iambic pentameter and in modern English. I had never seen it like this, though - the original words in a modern setting, one that looked like Los Angeles or another familiar California setting.

It was director Baz Luhrmann's "William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet." I hadn't seen it in theaters, and it was then probably four years or so old. Truth be told, I'd avoided it. I'm always afraid that filmmakers will screw up the classics, and using a plus sign instead of the word "and" didn't thrill me. (I blame Prince; he started the whole business of substituting "4" for "for" and "U" for "you" in the 1980s, decades before texting. It still annoys me. And I don't text.)

I decided to watch for just a few minutes, to see how they'd handle things like the references to swords (answer: make it a brand name). I kept watching; how would Claire Danes interpret Juliet? Danes is an amazing actor, just luminous. I kept watching, and kept watching. I watched the entire movie. Moreover, I enjoyed it. That doesn't sound like much, but it was huge. It was the first time I had voluntarily chosen to sit through a movie in over a year. To have not only sat through it but also enjoyed it was a huge milestone.

So: thanks, Leo, John, Claire, Baz. I almost - almost - remembered what "normal" felt like. It was an indicator that, yes, things actually would get better.