Dude was in another play. His second one in high school. He was a last minute replacement, as the kid who was supposed to be the French waiter pulled out, two weeks before opening night. I heard the director had to be revived four times. The kid is still missing. So they asked Dude to step in. He didn’t attend the original audition for two reasons: (1) It interfered with his rugby and (2) It interfered with his rugby. He agreed to help because we are raising a marvellous human being, courtesy of his mother.
He didn’t bother to tell as the synopsis of the play. And because it was a musical, I didn’t bother reading the script. He did tell us his part was very small. As he was playing a waiter, he was nervous about handling a tray off food in front of so many people and having to deliver his lines in a French accent. I told him he need not worry, as all men suffer from that condition, the inability to multi-task.
Did I mention the play was in English?
As he went for more rehearsals, details of the play serviced, albeit slowly. Like clues to a murder mystery. If I was paying attention, I might have caught on earlier. Clues like the fact that it’s a love story, the lead actor has a very big nose, and his scene is actually staged to create the perfect date for Christian. And Roxanne.
Nope, the penny still didn’t drop. What intrigued me more was the fact that Dude was cast in a role of a drama student having to play another character on stage. It’s happened before. Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think? I little too ironic. Yes, I really do think.
We went to the premiere last night, and the reality dawned on me like a ton of bricks. The murderer was Steve Martin, in the fire station with a really big nose. It was a clever retelling of Roxanne! Which is actually a retelling of a very old play called Cyrano de Bergerac. Which the clever director renamed “Cyrano’s Burger Shack”!! Wow! Genius! And it was a musical! And it was really good! There was dancing!
Ok, I’ll stop with the exclamation marks.
Back to Dude. Watching him pull of an authentic French accent with such ease and brilliant comic timing, made me the proudest parent in the audience. And I know this because I lost three buttons when I suddenly developed man-cleavage. Like Dude told us, the part was small, but he was shining like the North Star. I was convinced they adjusted the lighting on stage to lit up his scene particularly. Why else would I be blinded by his performance?
The crew denies my allegation, claiming that nothing special happened during that scene. But that’s just ridiculous. I’m not stupid.
I mean, can a father’s pride really alter the way he sees light?