Reading the Theatre: Three Performance Memoirs

Thanks to reminders from Constance of Staircase Wit and Chris of Calmgrove Books, I’m reviving my Reading the Theatre project for another year – and if anyone else would like to join in, please do! Although not as intensely as in some years, I still find myself drawn to reading books related to theatrical themes or performances in a clump around the month of April.

This time around I enjoyed three memoirs by performers, two as audiobooks featuring them as narrators as well. First up was Walking with Ghosts by Gabriel Byrne — not the usual celebrity fare, but poetic and impressionistic vignettes of growing up in a working-class family in Dublin, and going through much turmoil before he landed in an amateur drama group that brought him a way out. These Irish reminiscences are juxtaposed with other scenes depicting the bizarre otherworld of Hollywood fame, where Byrne has wrestled with the darkness and depression underneath the glamor.

I found the reading experience greatly enhanced by hearing Byrne doing all the voices, describing the scenes, singing the songs, and so on. His Irish lilt can be lyrical or gritty, and both extremes are needed for this tale of finding strength in a life fraught with tragedy. Death, mental illness, sexual abuse, poverty, alcoholism are there, but also a sense of wonder and a hard-earned peace. Some may be disappointed that there was relatively little information about his actual performing career, but I found it an honest and moving story, beautifully told.

Meanwhile, in Born Standing Up, Steve Martin tells how, from humble beginnings as a kid working at Disneyland and Knott’s Berry Farm, he conquered the realm of stand-up comedy, then left it forever. Again, it was most interesting to learn about the person behind the celebrity, hearing about his struggles — including with difficult family relationships (the ending passage about reconciling with his parents was so touching) and with anxiety attacks. But there was also the joy of creating a new kind of comedy, and by dint of hard work and persistence, getting to succeed the one thing he ever really wanted to do, show business.

One would not necessarily expect from Martin’s stage persona to find such an intelligent and thoughtful person behind it. With his background in philosophy, he was something of an avant-garde artist, but not so pretentious and much more fun. Ironically enough, the success of his stand-up act ruined it, as what was fantastic to do for a crowd of 200 or even 2000 became torture to do for 20,000. Fortunately Steve was talented enough he could move on to other things, but that’s another story.

Next on my reading list came another “born” book: Born with Teeth by Kate Mulgrew. Now best known for her TV roles, she vaulted from midwestern obscurity to train in the Stella Adler academy in New York, then performed on stages from Los Angeles to London, including several roles at Seattle Rep (I was a little too young to catch her there).

Though it’s gotten rave reviews, for me her memoir started out strong but lost some focus and energy as it went along. The fact that Mulgrew had such early success — leaving drama school early to take on not just one, but two major professional roles that she insisted on juggling — actually made the story less compelling than reading about someone who had a long apprenticeship, as in the two above.

Beneath the surface layer of success is another lot of pain and regret, most notably about giving up a daughter for adoption in her first years as a performer, but in this case, self-knowledge and maturity seem somewhat elusive. The passion for being on stage, it’s increasingly clear, can be a self-medicating diversion from something one doesn’t want to face within. And so can relationships — in the latter part of the book, Mulgrew is much occupied with a passionate whirlwind romance she thinks will transform her life, but it didn’t in fact outlast the book’s publication.

A memoir itself is a performance, I realized, one that presents a certain picture of a life, but it can never be the whole picture. Locating and coming to know the person behind the role can be a struggle, even for the writers themselves. Still, I value memoirs like these for making the attempt, and for the perspective they give on the human side of the performing life.

Do you have a favorite theatrical memoir? And have you ever seen any of these performers live?