“So while all this was going on, I don’t know why I did it, I put on a pair of (boxing) gloves myself...” —Martha in “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”

Some Muse readers may remember that I answered an audition notice recently for the Edward Albee play, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” produced by the Sullivan County Dramatic Workshop. Twenty-five years after my last stage role, getting the part of Martha put me back in the thick of it. Sometimes we do things and our motivations are not always clear to us.

As a young woman, a life in the theater did not wear well on me. I was not yet in touch with my competitive nature, so auditions were hellish. The hours were awful and the pay was worse, if I were lucky enough to get paid at all. During rehearsals for my first legit (i.e. paying) role, I watched a barroom floozy ascend the stairs to my boyfriend’s apartment as I ran off to the theater, a little late one evening. The lesson was clear—do what you love and lose who you love.

It didn’t occur to me then that I needed a better boyfriend. That would have been an easier lesson, and more fulfilling.

There were lots of reasons to escape the theater world, but the truest one was that I was not yet as fluent in the language of emotion as an actor must be to thrive.

Albee’s play, although long and redundant by design, is a brilliant piece of writing, both in its ability to capture character and in its utterability.

The verbal jibes between Martha and George are museum-quality portraits of a couple teetering on the brink of mutual annihilation. Humanity and inhumanity run deep in this drama.

I have always loved this play, although it is rarely produced. The film, with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton as Martha and George, had been my introduction to the world of adult drama. I sneaked into the movie, though I can’t remember how, as a twelve-year old. This was in the pre-ratings era, but some films required a parent or guardian for teenagers. When I left the theater that day, I knew why. The emotional brutality it portrayed was something only adults should see. Unfortunately, I had already seen a fair amount of it in person, at home.

The role of Martha in “Virginia Woolf” (no, it’s not about Virginia Woolf) is an emotional steeplechase. The character’s emotional temperature fluctuates wildly from scene to scene, even line to line. She, like me, is a fiftyish woman who has been married for more than 20 years. As a friend said recently, “Any woman who has been married for 20 years should be able to play that part with feeling.”

Indeed, it is cathartic. I have been much nicer to my husband since rehearsals started. It may be that I’m not around as much, or that I’m grateful for his extra help with family responsibilities. Or it just may be that my own private “Martha” gets an airing on the stage and doesn’t need to at home.

Maybe, I think, it has even enlightened me to the treasure of my own solid marriage.

I picked a doozie of a role for a comeback. What has surprised and pleased me most is my ability to project the emotional range of this character. It has been hard to learn the lines and to remember how to move on stage. It has been challenging to make time in my life for three days of rehearsals a week, while trying to raise a family 100 miles away. More than anything, it has been a challenge to express the variety and depth of emotion that Albee has written.

In the expression has been the joy. This is not a joyful role, but reaching inside to find the truth of feelings of loss and disappointment and failed dreams and having the playwright’s words to express those feelings is a joy. I don’t know why I did it, but I’m glad I did.