What if we want to have people over, for cheesecake?

That's one of the lines from the play, post-censoring. "The Dining Room" has a significant amount of cursing in it, and since we are Christian students performing at a Christian school, it was decided that we should just leave the cursing out. Our director, Julia, met with Dr. Reynolds, the head of the Torrey program, and also with Dr. Todd Lewis, the chair of the Communications department, which contains the only other real theatre presence here at Biola (we don't have a theatre major or department, only a track within the Comm department.) Apparently part of the Biola theatre policy is "no cursing", and the issue had been a little bit on the fence anyway; it really doesn't detract much from the play to have it out.

Anyway, one of the lines in one of the scenes belongs to a husband, arguing with his wife about using the dining room table to work on her master's thesis; she insists that they never use the space and she can work better in there, and he counters with, "What if we want to have people over, for Chrissake?" During the first read-through of the play, I thought the word actually was, "cheesecake". We were trying for options of how to censor the word, and I threw out "cheesecake" as a joke, but it's ended up sticking. It certainly makes the line, and the character, a lot funnier, and so far every time it's been said while rehearsing that scene, there's always someone who can't keep a straight face.

Rehearsal tonight was SO MUCH FUN. I was excited for it all day; we were going to work on a scene I've been really, well, excited about. The whole cast (all six members) is in the scene, which makes it fun, and the scene itself is just plain fun. It's a child's birthday, and four of the performers are playing children about four or five years old. To start rehearsal, Julia put on some music and had us run around on stage as if we were five year olds. You can imagine how that played out; lots of running and pushing and twirling and hiding and jumping and yelling. And lots of fun.

Then, we did that again, except me and one other actor, Nick (who is a junior here at Biola and in the Torrey program) were not children; we were the adults. In the actual scene, that's how it is; four actors are the children, and Nick and I are the adults. I am the mother of the girl whose birthday it is, and he is the father of one of the boys attending. Trying to be adults while everyone else is running around being an insane child is very difficult; it was hard to keep things under control, including my own laughter.

Working on the scene itself was really, really great. When the children swell (or explode) into their talking and laughing and chanting for ice cream while Nick and I ("the adults") are trying to have a separate conversation was a challenge; Julia wants the kids to keep their energy, but that means Nick and I have to overcome that energy. Practically, at some points it was just a matter of hearing the lines and everyone's cues.

I really love this scene. I was talking with Johnny (one of the actors and the assistant director) about it after rehearsal, and he said something that I think is really dead-on; this scene embodies what so much of "The Dining Room" is as a whole. Let me explain. The basics of the scene are these: I ("Peggy") and Nick ("Ted") are both married, with kids, probably in their thirties (I think the script describes Peggy as "youngish").

When Nick enters, we soon learn that there is some kind of mutual attraction between them, although nothing has been acted on. Peggy's husband is distant and apathetic, and Ted's wife is probably more concerned with appearances of a good marriage than an actually good marriage. Ted's wife knows "about us", as Ted puts it, and she's threatening to "make everything messy." As they try to pull away from the distraction of the kids for a moment, Peggy and Ted discuss their options, although it's more like wishful thinking. In the space of a few lines, the audience sees (or at least, I hope they will see) something really sweet between them; cute, even. They're certainly a likable couple, but in the end, they aren't a couple. They never can be. And this is the realization I think they come to, especially when reminded of the reality of their children, and their responsibilities. I find something gently heartbreaking about it all; they can't abandon their children, who are just as sweet and lovable, and so they must abandon themselves and, partly, their happiness.

That's why I agree with Johnny when he says that this scene is a sort of microchasm for the entire play. On the surface, the characters are funny and maybe a little flippant; it's easy to laugh at and with them. Yet as the play progresses, and as each scene progresses in itself, we delve deeper into the reality of these people's lives, and there is much pain and sadness and loss that isn't evident on the surface. In way, I think every individual is like this. When you're just scratching the surface of someone, things aren't so serious; there is small talk and casual jokes and light conversation. But the deeper you dig, the more you find; there is a good amount of joy, but probably an equal amount of grief and pain, and all of these things shape us into who we are. Humans are like sponges, constantly absorbing experiences, feelings, ideas, that build into that ever-changing person we are always becoming.

In some ways, I haven't quite put my finger on exactly what I love about "The Dining Room". But I do love that it's about being real.