Camelot

There isn't the language to express what this role, process, and the entire experience have meant to me personally and professionally. Guenevere and Camelot were a silent agreement with myself to go all out-- to go big or go home-- before I decided whether or not to recommit myself to the theatre, and particularly, to singing in the theatre.

My illness from 2014-2017 left my singing voice in an unrecognizable state of disarray, but more than the physical damage (that, with much help from my devoted teacher Doc White, and sometimes soul-crushing work has 90% been overcome and largely healed) was the psychological and emotional trauma of literally losing not only my "money maker" but my Voice with a capital "V"-- the source of my purest expression, joy, and much to my surprise: my identity. To have it taken from me when I had really only just truly begun to embrace its fullest potential was a grief-like devastation I am still processing (despite the physical healing taking place). The confidence of an instrument that will simply "be there" without the slightest hint of drama or fear is no longer my reality, and I am never more grateful than when my voice flows from me without pain or internal hurricane.

Guenevere sings more than almost any other character I have ever played (Laura Fairlie, Eliza Doolittle and Maria in West Side Story were her competitors), and the largest singing role I have taken on since healing from my illness. It was a line in the sand" if you will. If I could maintain my health, power, vocal resonance and do so 8 shows a week, perhaps I would learn in my cells that I was capable of singing in the theatre again. No one could tell me this. It had to be experienced to be truly and fully learned. I suppose I selected a rather ambitious task when it came to such a "test" but ah well: that's about as AlSilber-y as it gets. Whole-ass it or stay at home.

But more than Camelot's significance in my vocal and health journey, it has been a milestone of the first theatrical experience I have enjoyed so thoroughly in over a decade (since, frankly, Fiddler on the Roof in Sheffield and subsequently London).

It is a funny thing in the theatre-- not every component always aligns itself perfectly-- to have a truly special production one must have three components in place: a perfectly balanced company (of actors, creatives, orchestra, crew and stage management)—there can be not even one bad apple, and if there is, that bad apple must be so swayed by the good that they don't make an impact. An excellent product (the work itself must be of excellent quality and hopefully feel important). An excellent process and atmosphere.
It's delicate.

This entire experience—the quality of its work, the alchemy of the company and the personal victory of triumphing over illness has meant more to me than I can express. It has been one of the most profound work experiences of my life thus far (in fact only one other in my memory rivals it and it was long, long ago...) Ken taught me a great deal off stage as well, and I am ever-grateful for those lessons.

Definitively, at the very core of this experience working with Ken Clarke. Creating and building a great, complex and truthful marriage between Arthur and Guenevere. I truly feel I have had the privilege of working with one of our great actors at the beginning of his career. Thank you, Ken, for always showing up, for playing “pro tennis,” and for allowing me the privilege of being let into your eyes and inner life as Arthur.

Further, I have had the extraordinary privilege of being present for the "break out" moment of one of the greatest singers and human beings I have ever had the joy of working with and cultivating an onstage romance with, and an offstage platonic intimacy (like I've only ever known with Bobby Steggert.)

Further, we created a beautiful triumvirate of friendship with genius actor Patrick Vaill (known as "Arthur's Admins") who played Mordred. That triangle and all its branches meant so much to me.

Nick Fitzer is that man, that artist, and it was easy to fall in love with all he brought to this incredibly complicated character. He buoyed and supported me, he lifted me sky high and taught me so much about love in its many forms, on stage and off. I am so thrilled the world took note. To quote the Washington Post:

"Nick Fitzer, playing divinely self-confident Lancelot du Lac, the delights become magnified. Fitzer’s delivery of “If Ever I Would Leave You,” the pastoral love ballad Lancelot sings to Guenevere, is, in a word, sensational, and the performance is such that you may find yourself asking, “Where did they get this guy?” To other directors out there looking for a romantic musical-theater leading man I can declare: C’est lui."

And my beloved ladies of Dressing Room 3, where would I have been without their family-like support, humor, truth, and love? I've never been in a dressing room like it: I wanted to remain there forever. Each woman standing up with her own magnificence, personality, talent and sense of life. I learned and grew from and with all of you and I've never felt so loved and supported by any other group of women. Thank goodness for our text chain!

This COMPANY. My heart.

So.
Dearest Guenevere,

I shall love you eternally.

Thank you for all you taught me and all of us. I haven’t experienced a perfect theatrical alchemy as profound as #Camelot at Shakespeare Theatre Company in many, many years.

Thank you.
I won’t let it be forgot.
None of us will. X