He directed me in an epic play (it was a cast of thousands - okay - only 36, but for straight drama that's big), and literally hundreds of actors auditioned for him. It was a hot ticket, and miraculously, I landed a leading role. It was the pinnacle of my non-career. Robin plucked me out of obscurity and depression for a short while to give me the deepest learning experience as an actor and artist I've ever had. Before he directed, he had a successful career as a fine actor, with boyish good looks and charm to spare. It was that same charm that made him a charismatic leader. No wonder I was so thrilled to have been chosen by Robin.
He took a risk hiring me, and liked to remind me of it. "What director in their right mind would hire an unknown actress in a leading role?" he asked rhetorically and ever-so-dramatically one day while working with me in rehearsal. His question was a comment more about himself than me. He was a risk-taker, and loved to flout theatrical convention.
I craved his attention any way I got it, even when he hurt my feelings. He sometimes played head games with his actors, and there were a few who despised him for it. But most people idolised him, and I was one of them.
I was one of his most avid acolytes, and he knew it. He took advantage of it as well, sometimes to the point of being cruel. There were a couple of occasions when he dug around in my open wounds and exposed the worst in me. But he got what he was looking for - the best performance I was able to give. And I loved him and worshipped him for it. He deserved his huge, fanatical following, because all the outrageous things he did and said were out of his passion for theatre, and to serve the ultimate good of the play.
One of his ploys was to have every character on stage secretly lusting after somebody else, even when it was completely irrelevant to what the playwright had intended. I observed that aloud one day in rehearsal. "Very true," Robin replied, "that's why my plays are so exciting." And he was right. His productions crackled with electricity, as did the rehearsals.
He was full of wit and charm, and had a real potty mouth too, which he used to good effect. I can't remember the context, but once he referred to me as a Saskatchewan Slit. Afterwards some of my cast mates asked me if I were from Saskatchewan. (Just for the record, I'm not.) Despite having the dubious distinction of being one of a few cast members upon whom he liked to perform emotional vivisection, rehearsals were always interesting, if not exciting, and frequently a lot of fun. He was a theatrical wizard, and a genius in the true sense of the word - a tutelary spirit.
He arrived in my life not long after I had embraced paganism and the magical path of spiritual feminism, a.k.a. witchcraft. Typical of someone with a new passion, I was overly enthusiastic about sharing my beliefs and opinions, which gave Robin more fodder to make fun of me. I didn't mind one bit. I was always seeking his attention because I wanted to be a part of the magic that came to him so naturally, and which he manifested in his brilliant shows. The eight short weeks I spent working with Robin were sprinkled with fairy dust. I mean that (almost) literally, because even his name evoked magic. Robin Goodfellow is another name for Puck, the famous fairy trickster of English folklore, who is also a character in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. That bit of synchronicity did not escape my notice, and I revelled in it. Names are a big thing in the practise of magic, and I put great stock in the fact that he bore the moniker of a magical, mischievous sprite. Everything he said and did bore out his name. Of course Robin probably didn't care about such things, even if he knew of them.
He conjured his brand of magic on and for the stage, and did it better than anyone else I've ever known. The theatre, just like the spirit world, is an in-between place, a world of make-believe and imagination. It's where mere mortals known as actors become shape-shifters and live forever. It's a place where magic abides. And it's the world where Robin ruled. Treading the boards of Robin's domain was to experience the magic, mischief and mayhem of the Otherworld, and for the less wary, the cruelty as well. Robin had a wicked wit. But such is the nature of the trickster and spirit guide. I found it ironic that Robin made fun of my magical thinking when he was one of the most bewitching humans I've ever known. He executed his stagecraft using the same methods of manipulating reality that wizards use in witchcraft. And the result was nothing less than awe- inspiring.
When Robin hired me I thought it would kick-start a career I just couldn't get off the ground. But alas and alack, I didn't fulfill the promise he saw in me. His recent leave-taking reminds me yet again to finally lay to rest all my lamentations for a failed career. His death is the most final and dramatic life-stage direction ever.Another namesake of Robin's is the North American bird. The red-breasted robin is a harbinger of spring, and represents renewal, resurrection and rebirth. Although I grieve the loss of Robin, I celebrate the gift of renewed hope for a new phase in my life that his passing evokes. I'm slowly but surely letting go of past dreams, and embracing a new passion and future with my recent certification as a yoga teacher. Robin's magic still touches me after all these years, and always will.
The note I wrote to him on a communal card from the cast when the play ended rings even more true today. Although a few cast members teased me for my over-the-top sentiments, I was so smitten I made no apologies. Nor do I now. So I shall end this remembrance of Robin with those same words...
You have hurt me and healed me,
strengthened and deepened me.
You are my god and I love you.
Blessed be.
- G. P.
