Thomas Repass, Dec 14th, 2023
In weeks prior to our one act competition, the dramatic misfits of Blacksburg’s Theater Department were largely made up of Starbucks orders and late night recitations; a shiver of anxiousness at the upcoming fight seemed to tingle down all of our spines. We had been working on Dirt, a one act play set in the Texas Dust Bowl largely centered on the losses of the Loftin family. For roughly two months of practice the cast was alight with excitement and intrigue, and now that we were about to compete, we were fueled by a competitive spirit that would not be broken.
When November fourth finally came, we all woke up with dreams of moving on to regionals. At around 7:45 we began to pack onto the bus, a short ride to Salem High School that consisted mainly of tired, puffy faces. At one point, we began spelling out “Dirt” on the windows from the condensation, only to wipe them away when we realized that the cars passing by saw “triD”. When we arrived, we were quickly escorted to our assigned classroom, where we stayed for the majority of our trip.
In this sleek room is where the magic began. We took turns changing into our costumes there, a combination of potato sack dresses and assorted overalls, and in that room is where we looked at our rag-tag southern family and found the courage to step out on stage. I am not embarrassed to say that the heartfelt moments of encouragement and the affirmations of pride spoken in that room were enough to make me cry.
At roughly 2:15, the time slot of the last performance, we appeared backstage. I was clad in overalls and a flannel shirt, nerves biting at the tips of my fingers and sweat already glistening over my forehead. This was my first one act competition, and while I was tense, I was equally as excited. As our feet touched the stage and the lights went out, we began the starting choreography, called afterwards by multiple onlookers “breathtaking”.
About halfway through the show, our senior sensation Madeleine Dye gives a speech as Edith, a mother who is bent before the coffin of her recently deceased twelve year old boy. As we all stood transfixed backstage, we could hear the audience sniffle.
In the very last scene, the main family stands center stage and quotes a Bible verse as we end the play. I stood beside a cast of actors I had come to know as my best friends, and saw tears in Madeleine’s eyes that echoed the crying we heard throughout the auditorium. We exited stage to a bevy of applause and high hopes, now all that was left was to wait.
We changed out, ate, and conversed with the other casts. A game of Ninja was proposed and a group of assorted schools came together to laugh and have fun. The beauty of theater is in the connection, not just the act. When that was done, we arrived back at the auditorium. Using my coat as a blanket, I began to close my eyes and wait the two hours it took for the judges to come to a conclusion. This delay was only justified when we had a short dance break in the auditorium, where a mosh pit was formed of the various casts. It started with ‘Cruisin For A Bruisin’ which only made the day feel like a fever dream. As suddenly as the music began, it stopped, and whispers of “the judges are here” echoed through the crowd. We all ran back to our respective seats like school children as the bell rings.
Three judges made their entrance to the front of the auditorium, a group that consisted of ages between 80-100. They took a microphone and began discussing each play. The first four critiques were of Shakespearean plays, a Lazzi, and a satire by Poquelin that was questionable. Ours was the only truly modern play, and thus stuck out like a sore thumb to these old theater teachers. When it came time for our critique, the first words were. “Was this an Appalachian play?” A few quizzical looks were passed around, and our excellent theater director Mrs. Gruver replied, “This was about the Texas Panhandle during the dust storms.” The judges were surprised by this, a fact that our Bruins were confused by. Did these judges remember an Appalachian dust bowl? Their critique continued with a heavy hand of criticism and subsequent compliments towards the singing of our stunning Sailor Long and the violin music played by our wonderful Wesely Jarret. Needless to say, the only actor award we were given was to Madeleine Dye, a well deserved award for such an amazing performance on her part. The final deliberation was given, and the judges voted that we would not be one of the schools moving on.
As we packed up and got on the bus, the harsh reality seeped in. We had received a packet with the full results, and it said we came in last place. The written critique by the judges was read aloud, and bitter faces were exchanged. One judge wrote under the heading of Acting Technique simply this, “the rustic set was good and they moved it well.” We felt crushed and bickering ensued, a fact unavoidable to add. The truth is, it hurt, but we weren’t going to let it stop us. In proper tradition with the Blacksburg Theater Department, when we got home, we were off again; our destination, Macados.
This is what I will remember most about my first one act competition. I won’t think back with resentment or shame, instead I’ll remember Shirley temples and large glasses filled with ice cream. We ate in good spirits while laughing the night away, our cheeks red with delicious food and our smiles bright. My family had suffered a loss, as all families do, and in accordance with our play we got back up again. We had lost the competition, but I can’t help saying that surrounded by my friends, I felt like a winner.
(Photo credits: All photos taken by Emily Gruver)
Comments