One Line

170.

I have always appreciated the nuanced similarity connecting actors with athletes. The actor, be they on stage or on set, portray another person who’s characteristics, mannerisms, attitudes and actions create a story line. The athlete, who thrives in real time surrounded by near constant danger, portrays her best self in the heat of battle. They each must adapt to changing circumstance, call upon their experience and training, inspire and lead others into and out of violent confrontations with their opponents and find a sense of dynamic flow in their quest for victory. The only difference between the two is that the athlete must adhere to a strict set of rules and play in front of the watchful eyes of a referee, umpire or official. The actor, as suggested by the script writer and instructed by the director, is unencumbered by such rules. 

It is with this socio-philosophical backdrop that we use our individual gifts, physical and intellectual, to achieve the common goals of each discipline: The creation of good art. Without hesitation I can recreate hundreds of special moments from my athletic past, the perfectly placed spiral hitting the target in stride forty yards downfield, a dramatic twisting, spinning, dodging, starting and stopping run to daylight. To me there is little difference between the long hours of practice required of a successful athlete and the physical demands of the endurance athlete, where the only question is how long the time separating the opening gun from the closing curtain. Likewise, the many dramatic, frightening and joyful moments on stage in front of a live audience, who’s only demands are to share instant emotion, are equally vibrant in the library of my random access memory. There are themes, experiences, lessons and magic moments from each with which we may call upon when the situation requires improvisation. 

This is one of those moments, or rather this is the moment I practice and prepare for that moment. 

I will need to be both actor and athlete. I will need sharp wit, stage presence, a command of the material and the ability to follow the lead of the person who holds no understanding of the line, page or act. I will be acting with a non-actor. This is like dancing with a pine tree or batting practice with a pitching machine, the interaction all one-sided, a soliloquy of solitude. 

The character I will portray is a retired Marine Colonel who now heads a clandestine defense contractor operation loosely affiliated with NASA, McDonnell Douglass and a startup civilian company called Oculus Rift. He is also the liaison between the Department of Defense who funds the operation and the amalgamation of private and military contractors. His persona is charismatically professional, profoundly confident, energetic and, in a chivalrous way, both classic and modern. He appreciates the difference between talent and luck, noise and music, victory and defeat. He loves a good Cuban cigar and a formidable challenge. 

The Queen has authored a line by line script that is a brilliant forecast of the critical time we, Warden Daniels and myself as Col Mason, stand admiring the silent maneuverability of the secret drone in a test at the epicenter of the highly secure exercise yard in the frozen vortex of the most escape-proof maximum security prison in the United States. 

I have a single line of dialogue to deliver that is the culmination of all our efforts to arrive at these precise coordinates and with the target personnel. The line must achieve the desired result. 

One line.