Ned Noyes

In acting class once, while working on the character of “Louis” in Tony Kushner’s Angels in America, (who leaves his lover shortly after learning he’s been diagnosed with AIDS), a director said to me, “It’s very easy for an audience to side against Louis. It’s very easy to shame him, to distance ourselves from him, to think, ‘I could never do that!’ But it is up to you to remind us (the audience) that in truth, we’re all terrified to admit we see some facet of ourselves in him. That his behavior, though loathsome, is understandable and (gasp!) perhaps recognizable.” I was reminded of this exchange, and of Dickens’ Ebenezer Scrooge tonight.

Picture this: I’m in my lovely, comfortable artist apartment, learning lines and lyrics in preparation for our weekend of musical staging, and my concentration is broken by what sounds, at first, like an army of underfed, feral cats preparing their long-awaited siege on Palmer Square. As it happens, a merry, ragtag crew of undergrads have decided to rehearse their a capella concert outdoors. At 11 o’clock. On a Wednesday night. Right below my window. Cute! Well… for a bit. I try to focus as they gamely harmonize their way through a bizarrely syncopated “Proud Mary”, I hold my breath and chuckle as they jam out to a peppy take on Radiohead’s “Creep”, but by the time they’re jivin’ to a beat-box version of Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Under the Bridge”, the cuteness quotient is dwindling. Rapidly. So, I open my window.

Now, had I been a real Scrooge, I might have had some deliciously choice words for them (and perhaps a bowl of tepid, sour gruel to toss their way), but I was content to congratulate them… and then ask if they wouldn’t mind, er, sharing the wealth with some of the other neighbors.

But before I could utter a word, I heard a few say they were going to call it a night, and I began to turn away from the window, relieved to get back to my script. Then a voice cried out, “Well, we’ve got to do ONE more … for the guy in the window.”

I stiffened. Obligated and ashamed, I walked back to the window, poked my head out and waved, content at least that this would be the final selection of their command Palmer Square performance. They whispered to one another, turned and faced my window, faces shining, breathed as one, and began to sing what has to be the most lovely, yearning, heartbreaking arrangement of James Taylor’s “That Lonesome
Road.”

If I had stopped to listen once or twice
If I had closed my mouth and opened my eyes
If I had cooled my head and warmed my heart
I’d not be on this road tonight

Carry on

Never mind feeling sorry for yourself
It doesn’t save you from your troubled mind

Walk down that lonesome road all by yourself
Don’t turn your head back over your shoulder
And only stop to rest yourself when the silver moon
Is shining high above the trees

These kids were good. Really good. I stood there, stunned at a few minutes of perfect harmony and poetry created for an audience of one; a one that a few minutes before believed them to be a nuisance. I applauded. They waved, and before I could muster a whispered “Encore!” they were gone.

As our company thinks about the numerous reasons it’s important to tell (and continue to tell) the story of Ebenezer Scrooge’s redemption, I’m newly reminded of the ways, even minor ones, Scrooge’s redemption is actually ours, too. How easy it is to take comfort in our dissimilarity to him! But how rewarding also, to realize how we’re like him, and in our likeness to him, what we might be missing out on.

See also:

• 49 Days to Christmas… Carol
• A Christmas Carol Renewed

Posted by Ned Noyes, who plays “Fred” and “The Undertaker” in McCarter Theatre’s production of A Christmas Carol.

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 8th, 2007 at 11:40 am and is filed under A Christmas Carol 2007, Actors' Voices. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.