I think my funny is broken.
What remains to be seen is if the funny is permanently broken or if it is just a momentary lapse.
Last night, I had an audition for a show that I am producing. An adorable show. A very funny show. The kind of show you leave wondering what kind of pharmaceuticals the playwright was smoking in order to come up with it.
And I tanked the funny.
Oh, I was moving and touching and even almost burst into tears at one point. As far as an audition goes, I felt it was some of my finer work . . . had it been for a Big Serious Drama. Not for a comedy. Therein lies the issue. Where did the funny go?
Just a few years ago, funny was my go-to. I was notorious for big, broad, ridiculous comedy. I would go to great lengths for the laugh. I have been bald, naked, covered in body paint, thrown over shoulders, dressed in drag, covered in hay with blacked out teeth, you name it. If it was funny, I was game. I had even begun to wonder if I actually could ACT because it seemed ALL I could do was funny.
Then THIS year happened.
Suddenly, Sami was an "actress." All seriousness - all the time. Big, overwrought, pass-the-hanky ACTRESS. At first, it was pretty exciting. Could I manage to play a bitch without bursting into a giggle fit? Could I be poignant? Could I . . . cry on cue????
Last night as I was staring at the sides for a show I have now read several times, I just couldn't find the funny. Trust me, I looked. I found the underlying heartaches and discomforts and disappointments, but just could NOT find the funny. Finally I said "screw it" and just played what I saw.
And it fell flat.
Well, not FLAT but definitely not funny.
So now I am on a mission to refind my funny. It was such a HUGE part of who I am as a person and as a actress, I can't imagine moving forward without it. Imagine going through life without your favorite jammies or fuzzy slippers. You can do it, but your feet will get cold.
I like my feet warm.