Arts Vanity: An Expedited Road to Mastery

A week before the start of my junior year of high school, I sat backstage at the tech rehearsal for my community theater’s production of “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” and finally opened the book I should have been reading the whole summer: “How to Read a Play” by Ronald Hayman. A self-proclaimed theater expert, I surely did not need the book. I had read half of a few Shakespeare plays for fun — and had even been in a few of them myself. Still, I had to be prepared to start “The Crucible” when I returned to school, and so I began.

Once we entered the theater that summer, backstage was my go-to spot, where I would go to read, practice, stare at the microphone packs, or just escape the noise of the dressing room. Now, it would be my reading spot; it would inspire my interest in the book and help me feel the advice in the very setting it was intended. So, sitting on a set piece I absolutely should not have been touching, I opened the book, read two sentences, closed it, then opened my phone.

Two days later, it was time to get serious. We were now in dress rehearsals and I would be in school in six days. This time, I opened the book and actually read. Maybe this could help me transform my entire performance or inspire me to really reinvent myself as the bride Sarah Kine.

The first section was: “Making the most of stage directions.” Well, be sure to read them: They are exposition and they can lay the visual foundation for your character’s motives. Sarah had few stage directions and possibly fewer motivations, but the stage directions from play excerpts in this section were fun.

Five days to the first day of school. Two days to opening night. Four sections left and zero character choices changed. The second section: “The silence under the words.” Surely, I could learn to appreciate a pause. Despite technically being a lead, I had about six lines — all quite expository. With no strong motives, how would I have underlying ones? Again, no new tricks to apply to my character, but many more fun excerpts to explore.

Four days until a 6 a.m. wakeup. Final dress rehearsal. “Mental scene changes.” This had nothing to do with me.

Finally, opening night arrived, and in three days I would be back on campus. After my mic check, I sat backstage on my forbidden set piece and read, “The actor inside your head.” This was the one. The section I should have tackled first, but that could still do me well. Think about motivations. Sure. Think about the unspoken. Still not applicable. Lose your thoughts and adopt theirs. Again, not much to work with there. But I felt reinvigorated and inspired. I skipped onto stage for my first entrance as an actress not only educated by experience, but also by the book. A true artist, an acteur.

Nothing much actually changed. Second show of week one, Saturday before school. “Costume and identity.” All of our costumes were chosen by what looked like it could be from the 1850s Wild West, and by who fit what. Still, I adored all of mine. I went onstage that night without having discovered what my character’s clothes said about her elusive personality, but I certainly had fun swishing my skirts.

The final show of the week arrived with the familiar panic of a Sunday afternoon. Luckily, writing a reflection on this summer reading was an easy feat. I wrote a flurry about connecting with characters and understanding the different energy different kinds of sets bring to a stage. I talked about knowing whether performers know whether or not they are talking out loud or singing, and, in an effort to boost ticket sales for the second weekend, I mentioned the expertise I had developed over my five-week rehearsal period that summer.

Despite how easy the read ended up being, it was not the rewarding experience I had expected. Nothing I learned could be applied to Miss Sarah Kine. Do I remember the direct advice of Mr. Ronald Hayman today? Absolutely not, but I like to think it is so deeply ingrained in my mind that I apply it every to play or musical I read, subconsciously. Did we end up reading “The Crucible”? Also no, which was deeply disappointing. Voltaire’s “Candide” was a pleasant substitute, though. In the end, “How to Read a Play” turned me into a real theater academic, from half of “Hamlet” to half of “The Death of a Salesman.”

—Incoming Theater Executive Dzifa A. Ackuayi knows the community awaits her next one woman show. It will hit theaters near you in January 2026. In the meantime she can be reached at [email protected].