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Example research essay topic: Cleveland Ohio Twenty Minutes - 1,539 words

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The players, including myself, are veiled behind the platform. My heart begins pounding, as you would wake from a branch tapping into your window on a stormy night. Waiting for all the right cues, I deeply anticipate the rising of the red drapes so I can begin my quest. Yet I still feel overwhelmed by the charge of intensity running through me, easily seen by the bullets of sweat that line my forehead, starting their trickle to my already dampened cheeks.

The time seemed to take on a fast pace. I quickly dab my face with the sleeves of my sweater for that last final check. Thats it! No looking back, PERFORM NOW! ! ! At the precise moment that you set your eyes on me, I will no longer be the person you just spoke with or recently heard. After that light shines on me, my attitude and character take on drastic changes.

I have put on different clothes now, somewhat of a disguise, I am nearly impossible to identify. This is what I have been trained to do. You have no idea since youve never been here before. Ive been in the position you are in right now so I must let you feel what I have once encountered. Your seated in a cinema style atmosphere with cushioned seats, molding your body perfectly. The people around you are in sophisticated dress; the men: a button down shirt, maybe a tie and an occasional overcoat; the women: silk blouses, long skirts and of course excessive amounts of jewelry to parade off to each other.

Most come as couples, or in small groups; maybe youll see a wandering straggler jotting notes with a pad in a corner seat. On the plateau ahead of you is a wide-open empty space that is rectangular and filled with all sorts of items. You look into an average persons living room, a plush sofa with pillows, leather reclining chair, an oak coffee table and a brick fireplace against the left wall. Your eyes gaze on to the set as if it were your own, seems so real.

Noticing the radio by the sofa, you piece together where the faint but distinct, soft instrumental melody has come from. But suddenly the tone at the regular volume slowly fades to nothing, and the chattering crowd grows silent with just a few distant whispers. As the people around you turn and focus on the matter before them, the lights surrounding the ceiling begin to diminish their brightness to a pitch-black atmosphere. This is no game; its a world to itself. I know because Ive lived and breathed the whole process. Im speaking of the art of acting, the imaginary world.

The world where you can choose to impersonate any character inspired or despised. I have taken this path of acting for three years now and it wont stop running through my blood. Its so simple to describe what I feel because its real to me; its truthful. It began with a small acting class of about 11 people that I took in Cleveland, Ohio. The class instantly took me by surprise; shoved me down a road where the path is make-believe and you can design your own signs along the edge of the pavement. Im lucky to have been in the group of people in this class; all of them were extremely enthusiastic and wanted something to become of their acting career, as we would put it: To make the big screen.

My first time on stage was not at all an easy task. I had learned the basic essentials in my acting classes to get me through those painful auditions and callbacks, enabling me to land a lead role. The most enthralling occurrence started up in my old hometown Cleveland, Ohio with the opening night of a play called Mousetrap by Agatha Christie. I still can recall the scent of the dressing rooms, much like my grandmothers house, that old lingering scent that bites under your nose as soon as you crack the door open. My clothes, lined up perfectly on the rack. The clothes reminded me of Army uniforms hung up neatly within the barracks.

In a sense it really was a war, you fight your own self to be intertwined with the character youre portraying. Picking up the scent of my clothes as I drifted by, I developed a small mouse in my stomach; feeling my time getting near even though I had an hour and a half before show time. Pulling my chair out reserved for my character, Detective Sergeant Trotter, I look at my label above the mirror believing that I am he. Although there are 4 other cast members in my dressing room and some chaos down the hall, I mentally block out all others hearing just what I want to hear. The intercom rang with a quiet but clear message in my ear, Twenty minutes until places everyone, twenty minutes. Slipping into my outfit for my first scene: button down oxford shirt, brown sweater vest, and corduroy pants with snow boots; I felt the intensity rise to the outer layer of my skin causing goose bumps to form.

Knowing that in twenty minutes every head will turn, every blinking eye will watch my slightest step. I started the transformation into my character, Detective Sergeant Trotter, a British policeman with a cockney accent. Starting out of the dressing room, still not hearing a sound, but my own heart pulsing through my sweater vest. Looking down at my chest noticing the jump it made, each beat closer and closer to lurching out of my torso onto the floor.

Reaching my destination, the left wing of backstage where my entrance is, I knelt down on one knee to gain some type of composure. Five minutes until your on, looking good Tony, the right stage-hand softly told me; with her head set on with a curved microphone to her lips, as if she were clearing the runway for me. Nodding in approval, I was ready. CURTAINS UP, LIGHTS UP! ! ! My lines flowing smoothly from my mouth, Ive taken on someone Im really not. Feeling his energy through me I force the scenes to become magical and appealing.

Swiftly taking my character on a ride that hes never experienced, molding the Detective into each and every crevice on that stage. When I move my feet, my arms, fingers, blink my eyes, twitch my mouth; Im moving not through my own actions but the actions of another man. I can no longer distinguish between Tony Tarantino and Detective Trotter. There is a fine line drawn between the two. I dont know I exist as my feet fall out before each other and step around the room. Whom have I turned into?

The rush overcomes me like a wave from the ocean unexpectedly trounces on your turned back, forcing you face first into the sand. This feeling that I receive is almost indescribable; yet theres another exhilarating sensation I get from a new aspect when on stage. Audiences responses compile throughout the show, the oooh's and ahhh's of the dramatic events taking place. Its a constant feeding motivation to satiate the audiences appetite for comedy, tragedy, and suspense all combined. They came for one sole reason, that is, to observe my every beat in detail. The show quickly moves to the climax, then soon after, the finale.

Lights go down, lights go up. Were positioned in a simple manner around our scene to give our bows. My turn comes; cheers fill up the auditorium as well as my entire body sending a sudden buzz from my toenails up to the follicles in my head. The rush that I received from this experience is clearly unheard of. I have been out of the loop of things for a little over 5 months now since my last performance. As everyone says, Once you have the theater bug, theres no stopping.

Its honestly as true as can be. Not only is it satisfying and rewarding to yourself after completing such a mission, but also its fulfilling to the audience members that have believed in you. It really comes down to that simple word when acting; Believability. In acting and in your own life; if you believe you can accomplish something and really put your heart into it, then 100 percent of the time, its a done deal. Listening to your hearts compassion and drive and clenching on to that one attainable goal, you will be able to reach the sky and farther. I found that there could be no smarter way than to send this message out to all my readers with this quote by Sir Ralph Richardson, If youre a writer or a painter, you write or paint whenever you want to.

But we have to do this task at a precise moment. At three minutes past eight, the curtain goes up, and youve got to pretend to believe, because no one else will believe you unless you believe it yourself. A great deal of our work is simply making ourselves dream. That is the task.

At three minutes past eight YOU MUST DREAM. Bibliography: None


Free research essays on topics related to: acting, twenty minutes, three minutes, dressing room, cleveland ohio

Research essay sample on Cleveland Ohio Twenty Minutes

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