Observations from Catonsville
Nataile Lambert, a member of the Observership from The Trial of the Catonsville Nine reflects on the reading’s relevance today.
Sitting in the rehearsal room for the first cold read of The Trial of the Catonsville Nine, I couldn’t help but feel that the moment was significant. It’s exciting to observe a two-week rehearsal process for the Taper Legacy Readings, but the urgent relevance that The Trial… highlights about the current moment made observing these rehearsals feel particularly momentous.
I was a part of a wonderful observership cadre of four fellow observers, guided by Teaching Artist Sara Guerrero and managed by Program Manager Meighan La Rocca. A typical day of observation meant meeting for about 30 minutes prior to rehearsal to check in and set intentions, observing about two hours of rehearsal, then debriefing and processing any observations in a private, post-rehearsal discussion at the end of the day. At the beginning of our observership, Guerrero tasked us to create personal goals for this process, considering that age-old question many parents begrudgingly ask their loud children: “Why theatre?”
As an MFA Playwright at UCLA, I read and see a lot of plays. That being said, it is easy to have a feeling of separation from theatre as a graduate student. To me, theatre has always been about the creation of it, with other humans in a space. As a graduate student spending her days hunched over a laptop, soaked in bluelight, spiraling over dramaturgy, it is sometimes easy to forget the “why” of theatre. This observership gave me the opportunity to feel theatre again and to reconnect with my “why.”
My main goal was to be a sponge; to absorb the process with an open mind and internalize what sticks out to me. One of the most major takeaways from this process was the idea of decentering panic in the rehearsal room. This was a precedent set at the beginning of the rehearsal process and it continues to linger in my mind to this day. I’ve replaced acting from a place of panic with acting from a place of problem solving. Translating this into the role of an observer in this space, I replaced listening from a place of needing to respond with listening from a place of needing to understand, which I believe is a form of decentering panic in one’s own life.
During the first discussion after the table read, I was internally shrieking, “Me! Me! Me! Let me say words, I want to say smart things!” I kept reminding myself that my role in that space was to learn, not to insert myself. This is a particular art of discipline for theatre people such as myself, but it was a deeply enriching experience to constantly remind myself that not everything needs to be said in the moment; some things can be sat with and processed later. In addition, during discussion, we had the philosophy of “take space, make space,” which is essentially to share what you want to share, then allow room for others to do the same.
The Trial of the Cantonsville Nine is a play that begs us to respond. I found a particular relevance to this play as a current student at UCLA. The Trial questions the current balance in the United States between true justice and the law. About a week before the reading, my classmates and fellow United Auto Worker student union members were brutally arrested at the student encampment at UCLA. As I watched the first read through, I realized that this play is a chant. One for every individual in the U.S. who deserves the right to protest. I held my thoughts in the rehearsal room and shared the powerful themes of the play with my fellow classmates later.
The cast, management team, and director Michael John Garcés were truly kind and welcoming to us as observers. The generosity of the space was inspiring to see. Perhaps my favorite moment in rehearsal was watching the staging of the “Our Father” prayer. My professor always says that theatre is the only secular form of communion we have, and this moment in rehearsal brought me back to my “why” for theatre. A moment shrouded in hope, I felt so connected to everyone in the space and basked in the significance of the moment.
What a play to be a fly on the wall for! And what a privilege to watch the great work everyone created. As an introvert with the occasional spell of social anxiety, I'm used to being asked, “Why are you so quiet?” Thanks to this experience, I have no problem proudly answering, “I’m just listening.”