Guthrie Theater

Show: Edgardo Mine

The other week the Star Tribune published an article devoted to the subject of nudity in theater. The article mentioned shows large and small from recent times, and much to our lack of surprise, our little show made the list. And why shouldn’t it? If you look at any promotional info regarding Edgardo Mine, you will notice a disclaimer mentioning that the show contains nudity and sexual situations. Guess who’s playing the role of nudity? Yours truly. Well, partial nudity that is.

Nonetheless my briefly exposed cheeks got a special mention in the article. And though they were never attributed to me, it was an honor just to be anonymously featured in the press, especially since I never made it into the review.

Now since our director was interviewed about his propensity towards using nudity when there’s room for it, finding the theater as "a place for a sort of truthfulness," I figured I’d expand on my truthful journey through the process.

Although the basis of the show revolves around the struggle for the custody of a child between Jews and Christians, we were able to squeeze in a healthy doze of sexual content just to make sure everyone’s paying attention. I’ve been given the responsibility of portraying this…element…with candor and grace – a task at which I like to think I’ve succeeded (ACTING!). I play an Austrian soldier who is involved in several brisk romps with Nina (played by Nancy Rodrieguez), the Christian maid who baptizes Edgardo, the child in question. There’s even a group scene involving three additional fellows. To all this we committed a fair amount of time during the rehearsal process so as to lessen any awkwardness that may arise in our "choreography," but once Tech rolled around, I was finally required to bare the contractual obligation that was my tush – something I’d been putting off until the last conceivable moment necessary.

Now I’ve got to confess that I’m not someone who enjoys being naked. In fact I don’t even like to be naked at home. Possibly because I don’t consider myself to be anything that special to behold…to myself, nor anyone else. Yet I’d grown used to the idea through the rehearsal process, especially when the staging we established didn’t require me to remove my shirt. Come tech, however, there were no holds barred (whatever that means). I started out in my shirt, performing some humpy hump action, after which Mark requested for the removal of the shirt. I reluctantly agreed. He clearly liked this choice, because he proceeded to ask, over the God-mike, for me to come out just in the boots and solider hat. This was obviously a joke…I think… which I politely declined. But that’s what you get when your role requires a degree of objectification. Anything for a paycheck, I suppose. (Oddly enough, of all the shows in which I’ve performed in the last two years in the Twin Cities, half of them have required my toplessness - so clearly this is a trend.)

To achieve an efficient ass-baring, by the way, the costume department has given me period underwear to protect my period pants from my contemporary butt. These undergarments are like a pair of cotton capris that the costume department has attached to my pants, allowing me to efficiently drop trousers without fail.

In regards to Mark’s attention to detail and "truthfulness," I have to mention something from the first day of Tech. Having run through our "sequences," Nancy and I thought we were in the clear, when Mark decided to enhance the action of the play by staging some making-out/frolicking amidst the columns upstage, while Marianna (played by Jennifer Regan) gives a monologue about the perils of having 8 children. Moreover, he wanted Nancy and me to peel off layers as we moved across the stage, and seconds later appear fully dressed. Sounds easy, right? WRONG! We had to figure out the different states of undress and the process by which they would occur. We also had to work out how to reverse it all in a few seconds off-stage before a fully-clothed re-entry – all timed to the monologue. We proceeded to run and re-run the sequence over and over and over again. For two and a half hours to be exact. Tension and frustration was felt by all since there were clearly much more important things to tackle, like the rest of the play, but our director was willing sacrifice precious tech-time to refine the minutest of details until they felt just right.

Sadly, after all that time, we never did perfect the change, and were ultimately told to "figure it out"…on our own. Which, fortunately, we did. So expect some sexy smooth frolicking.

Of course all of the aforementioned action is accomplished with taste and relevance. Why shouldn’t it be? It is the Guthrie after all. And that’s the truth.