I headed to Richmond recently for a production of the modern classic, The Dixie Swim Club, at a off-off-Broadway theatre dedicated to the musical CATS. Naturally, at such a feline-inspired theatre, I expected a rousing rendition of something jellical, litter boxes in the bathroom, or at least an all-cat version of Sylvia. Strangely, I experienced none of the above.
The play was a modern commentary on costumes and wigs throughout the ages. Personally, I would never allow myself to be cast in a role where I would play someone OLDER than myself. Truth be known, I could never really be cast as someone who is actually my age. While I don't flatter myself to think I could carry off anything less than 13 convincingly, I also understand that nobody would believe me as a woman in her, well, over 35.
The MOST impressive part of the evening was that these aquatic women would regularly leave the stage to go for a swim in their wigs. I don't know what was more fascinating: the fact that the set included an off-stage ocean or the ability of the women to blow out and set their tresses during a scene change.
And kudos to the actress who actually had to die each night. This part seems especially hard to cast, unless you are paid in advance. I myself tend to only accept parts where I am alive for the curtain call.