Soap Life

Recently I had an acting gig on a soap opera. I had the pivotal role of Miss Hopkins, 3rd Grade Teacher. I left my house at 6:00 am (after being up most of the night with my 2 year old) to catch a Metro North train to Grand Central, and then several subways to Brooklyn (about a 2 1/2 hr trip).

I finally arrived at the studio and sat in the hair/makeup chair. I was getting all dolled up as I listened to the stars gossip and muse on life's meaningful questions. "What's the best self tanner out there?" "Your fake Prada looks better than my real Prada!" "Is Barbara Streisand Jewish?" For Real. After putting on my authentic teacher wear, we all hopped into a Limo.

From the car window, I looked at the crowded tenement buildings decorated to the nines with Christmas lights and brightly colored Jesuses. Our Russian driver (who was straight out of MOSCOW ON THE HUDSON) took us to our location-- a swanky private high school for the rich and almost famous.

I was waiting in the "green room" for several hours as I twiddled my thumbs and observed the other actors. There was the wholesome leading lady who was pregnant with her 5th child. Yeah, 5th. Two kids completely kick my ass, how does one even fathom 5? Or 14? There was the sex kitten from L.A. who collected small dogs. The handsome leading man who complained about his wardrobe the entire time. The dangerous villain, who was actually very funny and friendly. They all had one thing in common: they couldn't wait for the shooting to be over and go home.

I admit I was a bit envious of these folks. They got to do what they love and make a great living. Okay, the script is rather schlocky, the plot preposterous, the mounds of memorization needed every day is tough. Soap actors are often considered to be at the bottom of the acting food chain because of all these factors. Meryl Streep is so brilliant because she has the luxury of working on brilliant roles, brilliant material and with brilliant directors. If Meryl was on a soap, I don't know if she'd fare much better than Susan Lucci. Still, I was envious. How lucky these actors are.

Suddenly I heard my name called. It was time for the teacher to strut her stuff. I had a small part in the episode, just a few lines. Of course, I had created the circumstances of the scene. My back story. Researched a real grade school teacher (OK, so it was my sister in law. It still counts). Years of Method training and performing Chekhov and Ibsen would prepare me to say such lines as "Please, come in." I met the director, who told me where my entrance and exit would be. We had one quick rehearsal, shot one take, and that was a wrap. My 10 minutes of fame was up. Now it was back to Metro North. Back to reality.