Farewell to the Franks

The lights are down. The murmurs of the crowd slowly dwindle to a pregnant silence. I hear the shuffling of papers and purses, people shifting in their seats in the few moments before the first cue.

Inhale, Inhale, exhale.

Inhale, Inhale, exhale.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the sudden feeling of nausea and the bursts of both exhaustion and energy coursing through my body, keeping my fingers and heartbeat alive with ferocity. I curse myself for not thinking of going to the washroom before donning my multi-layered costume. Sigh. I never seem to learn.

Somehow, I manage to walk myself out of the wings and onstage. I am no longer a student at Sinclair Secondary - I have a character to portray from the instant the stage lights touch my face. I am alive with a different sort of drive, a passion that resonates and feeds off of my fellow actors. We have a story to tell, and God be damned if we won't do it well.

I go through the motions. I respond to every line, my heart thumping and my mind ready to cover any slip ups - we have all become quite seasoned at this skill, given the short amount of time we had to work on it.

The Diary of Anne Frank is tale that, no doubt, depicts a horrifying ending and unimaginable suffering - but what I learned throughout the five shows at Sinclair Theatre was that before the concentration camps and before the Nazi soldiers burst through the attic door, The Franks, Van Daans, Mr. Dussel... they all lived. They were individuals with personalities, with hopes and ambitions. Each and every person living in the annex dreamed of the future. What breaks my heart is coming to the understanding that, after the weeks I spent getting to know the character representation of these real people, they would never know a post-WWII life. Anne, Margot, Mrs. Frank, Peter Van Daan, Mr and Mrs Van Daan, Mr Pfieffer... they all died in concentration camps. Under Hitler's rule they hoped, feared and suffered. They never had the chance to breathe fresh air as free citizens. They were condemned to be prisoners.

Just as Miep and Mr Otto Frank survived the horror and the aftermath of the war, this show - my last fall show at Sinclair - will live on through memories. It will live on through the faces I see in the hallways, the words that, given a twist, could blend nicely into one of our lines.

It kills me a little inside to know that this is it for The Diary of Anne Frank, and that my time onstage is dwindling just like the inevitable pre-show noise of audience members. But I also know that as long as I hold onto the moments I do have, this experience will never truly leave me.

"Together, we'll weather

whatever tomorrow may bring.

So hear us rejoicing and merrily voicing

the Hannukah song that we sing."

Thank you, TDOAF cast and crew.<3

-END SCENE-