Passage 2 Excerpt: The Actress (2018) PDF

Read Passage 2 - Excerpt from The Actress, then answer questions 8-13. December 1941 :Vi Stanley listened to the applause with satisfaction, but the feeling was bittersweet. She wasn’t on the stage, rather behind it, having written the play her appreciative actors had enjoyed performing. With war...

Read Passage 2 - Excerpt from The Actress, then answer questions 8-13. December 1941 :Vi Stanley listened to the applause with satisfaction, but the feeling was bittersweet. She wasn’t on the stage, rather behind it, having written the play her appreciative actors had enjoyed performing. With war on the horizon, the theater was closing: too many members of the cast and crew were obligated to take on different responsibilities for it to continue to operate. Vi left the theater that night and never looked back. May 2018: There was nothing more appealing to Tressa Lazar’s ears than the sound of thunderous applause. A Broadway star for over a decade, Tressa had come to expect her audience to rise to their feet when she came onto the stage to take her bow at the end of a performance. Tonight, that sound was infinitely more important since the show she had been appearing in was closing. It had been produced for a limited run, and though there was no surprise at its conclusion, Tressa was still sad to have to say goodbye to the role she had painstakingly made her own. After goodbyes to the crew, Tressa made her way up the street to have a late dinner with her co-stars. As they talked, Tressa discovered most of the others already had jobs lined up: one woman was going to be working on a music video, and another had been cast in a streaming sci-fi series. When they asked her what she had planned, she avoided giving a direct answer and said her manager had mentioned something, but they hadn’t had the time to discuss the details. There was no way Tressa was going to admit that there hadn’t been a rush of offers from eager producers hoping she would sign contracts. A call to her agent yielded no promising results. It seemed the word on Tressa was that she was a diva and, though talented, not the easiest to work with. At first, Tressa ranted about how unfairly she was being treated, but then the anger turned to tears of disappointment. Her agent told her not to fret. She was working on a few possibilities, but it might take some time, and Tressa should sit tight and perhaps take a well-deserved vacation. The idea of taking a vacation from the stage made her nervous. Tressa lived on applause; she loved making an entrance and reveled in being able to hear a pin drop because everyone was waiting for her to begin. It was a rush like no other, and once she knew her part as if it were a second skin, Tressa could play it to what critics often called “perfection.” Maybe, in some ways, that was her problem—she needed her job too much. As if sensing Tressa’s situation, her mother called with news: Tressa’s grandmother had won the coveted writing award for best one-act play in her senior community and was given the opportunity to stage her production at a local theater. The only thing missing was professional advice and hands-on help. At first, Tressa made up an excuse about having auditions and no time. Her mother could tell by the tone in Tressa’s voice that she was making up a story of her own and challenged her. “Fine,” Tressa grumbled. “I’ll be there first thing in the morning.” When Tressa arrived at the senior center, she wondered if she had accidentally stumbled into the wrong room. No one had even glanced her way when she entered, and it became woefully obvious to Tressa that no one knew or cared who she was. People were sitting shoulder to shoulder at tables, passing around scripts and buzzing about how excited they were to be a part of her grandmother’s production. Tressa was about to leave when her grandmother came in through a side door. The crowd rose and cheered as if this tiny, older woman had won a Tony, and Tressa immediately felt guilty for feeling envious. She would need to get back to her world and hear that wonderful sound again, but in the meantime, she had made a promise to help, and she was going to keep it. When her grandmother introduced Tressa to the room, she said very simply that her granddaughter was talented and there to help. Tressa was puzzled—there were no accolades and no specifics about her body of work. Taking her grandmother’s lead, she kept her list of credits to herself and made the whole day about the production. The piece was excellent, and Tressa was excited to see where it could go under her volunteered direction. As Tressa was taking notes, one of the women playing a leading role casually mentioned that it was no great surprise that Tressa’s grandmother was talented. After all, the woman had been a writer on Broadway before the war. It was information Tressa had never heard before and later, when they were having dinner alone, she asked her grandmother why such an achievement had been kept a secret. “Why didn’t anyone ever say anything?” Tressa asked. “Women didn’t have such jobs back then; some even considered it shameful, so when the war came and the theater closed, we kept it quiet,” Vi explained. “Truth be told, my mother never said a word about it to my father, and when I stopped writing, it didn’t seem that important anymore.” “That’s why you didn’t tell your friends about me being an actress—you’re ashamed of me?” Tressa asked with trepidation. “Of course not, you’re an incredibly talented star!” The thing is, people are funny; if they think you’re a big deal, they treat you differently than when they think you’re on equal footing. If these people had a clue who you are, they wouldn’t be able to think straight, and they’d show it in their performances.” Tressa thought about her grandmother’s words and realized she had a point. Maybe moving forward, it would be better to hear her own applause than to need it from others.