Sargent Conservatory of Theatre Arts

[A slow zoom on an image of a group of students posed together smiling.]

Announcer

Introducing Webster University's Sargent Conservatory of Theatre Arts Class of 2026.

[An actor stands in front of an off-white backdrop and performs a reading from Fabulation by Lynn Nottage.]

Norah Barry

Mostly I feel rage. Anger, which is a variation of rage, and sometimes can give way to panic, which in my case is also a variation of rage. I think it's safe to say I've experienced the full range of rage, and it's been with me for so long that it's comforting. I'm trying to move beyond it. Sometimes I even think I have, but mostly I'm not a very good human being. Sometimes I'm less than human. I know this, but I can't control it. And now I'm more afraid than ever because what if I'm not a good enough person to be a parent? I know I'm not. I killed my family. Yes, I killed all of them. On the day of my college graduation, Dartmouth, my family drove 267 miles in a rented minivan loaded with friends and relatives eager to witness my ceremony. They were incredibly proud, and why not? I was the first person in my family to graduate from college. They came en masse, dressed in their bargain basement finest, loud, overly eager, lugging picnic baskets filled with fragrant ghetto food. Let's just say that their enthusiasm overwhelmed me, but I didn't mind. No, I didn't mind until I overheard a group of my friends making crass, unkind comments about my family. They wondered aloud who belonged to those people. It was me. I should have said so. I should have said that my mother took an extra shift so that I could have a new coat every year. My father sent me $10 every week, his lotto money. But instead, I locked myself in my dorm room, and I refused to come out to greet them. And I decided that on that day, that I was Undine Barnes, who bore no relationship to those people. I told everyone my family died in a fire, and I came to accept it as true.

 

[Barry continues with a reading from Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare.]

 

Barry

 Is Brutus sick? and is it physical
To walk unbraced and suck up the humours
Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick,
And will he steal out of his wholesome bed,
To dare the vile contagion of the night
And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air
To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus;
You have some sick offence within your mind,
Which, by the right and virtue of my place,
I ought to know of: and, upon my knees,
I charm you, by my once-commended beauty,
By all your vows of love and that great vow
Which did incorporate and make us one,
That you unfold to me, yourself, your half,
Why you are heavy, and what men to-night
Have had to resort to you: for here have been
Some six or seven, who did hide their faces
Even from darkness.
Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus,
Is it excepted I should know no secrets
That appertain to you? Am I yourself
But, as it were, in sort or limitation,
To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed,
And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs
Of your good pleasure? If it be no more,
Portia is Brutus’ harlot, not his wife.

 

[An actor wearing a red shirt and jeans performs a song from “Raining” from Rocky the Musical.]

 

Olivia Balicki

Finishes his cigarette and throws it down.

Gives a little wave, and then he heads downtown.

Fading in the darkness till he's finally gone from sight.

But I don't look up, and I don't wave back because the odds are 10 to none that a weed stays put in the pavement crack, and it never finds the sun.

I fit myself in my tiny space as the waters rise, and I wonder if he'll be back again with his broken face and his hard luck life, and his sad brown eyes.

Well, if it keeps on raining, I think I might float away.

Yes, if it keeps on raining, I may.

The sky is overflowing, and I am filled to the brim.

Yes, if it keeps on raining, I might float away to him.

 

[Balicki performs a reading from Laughs in Spanish by Alexis Scheer.]

 

Balicki

I am taken care of. I take care of myself. Sorry that is such a foreign concept to you, but I've been taking care of myself since you decided it was more important to take care of your career and yourself before your own daughter. And you come in here like a hurricane and turn my world upside down because it's not enough that you peaced out on the whole motherhood thing. Now you expect me to go to court and lie about it and say how awesome you were at it. Which part exactly Me texting, "I need you," and instead of calling me, I get a bank alert that you've sent me money? Christmas break alone at boarding school because you're on location. Trying to get a hold of you and only getting your assistant because you're on set. Meanwhile, I'm at the doctor's office, and they're asking me if my family has a history of mental illness to see if that explains why I've dreamt of throwing myself in the ocean my entire life. I mean, Dad's pretty messed up, but maybe you did that to him. Maybe the illness is you.

 

[An actor wearing a red tank top and jeans performs a reading from John Proctor is The Villain by Kimberly Belflower.]

 

Maggie Newstead-Adams

I also read the play. I did. I just looked it up on SparkNotes as a kind of supplemental material. Anyway, I totally get what the monologue is saying from like, a literary perspective, I guess, but your name is just something that someone else gives to you. I mean, you can change it. You can give it to someone else. You gave yours to your wife, and that's another shitty thing. Okay, but wait. Wait. I have a point. I swear. I make really good points. I'm actually really smart. I know a lot of you don't think I am, but I am. You've told me I am before, Mr. Smith. Right? That's not really how you phrased it to me, but okay. So anyway, your name is just this made-up thing. Your ancestors were like, "Oh, there are a bunch of blacksmiths in our family. Better call ourselves Smith." Right? That's what a name is. It's fiction. But my body is a fact. I live inside of it, and Abigail was a human being. She like, existed. That's a fact. But John Proctor was just so obsessed with this like, made-up thing that he just pretended like, I don't know, like his fiction was more important than her fact. That sucks. John Proctor was clearly the villain.

 

[Newstead-Adams performs a reading from How I Learned to Drive by Paula Vogel.]

 

Newstead-Adams

I'm so pissed off at you, Uncle Peck. I mean are you crazy? You scared the holy crap out of me, sending me all that stuff in the mail. What the hell were all those numbers about then? 44 more days to go, only two more weeks, and then just numbers. 69, 68, 67, like some serial killer. My 18th birthday. You were counting down to my 18th birthday. So? I'm not a child, Uncle Peck. Statutory rape is not in effect when a young girl turns 18, and you and I both know that. Listen, Uncle Peck, I don't even know how to begin this, but Uncle Peck, I came here tonight to tell you that I'm not doing very well. I haven't been able to concentrate on my work, and since I've been gone, I've been going over it and over it in my head, and I came here tonight to tell you that I don't think we should see each other anymore, other than with the rest of the family. Oh my God, I can't see you anymore, Uncle Peck. You are married to my aunt. She's my family. You have gone way over the line. Family is family. No, I'm leaving. Now. And I'm not coming home for Christmas. You should go home, Uncle Peck. Go home to Aunt Mary.

 

[An actor wearing a light blue polo performs the song “Run Away With Me” from The Mad Ones.]

 

Bryson Sands

Run away with me.

Mississippi mud, watch me slide.

We'll be on the road like Jack Kerouac.

Looking back. Sam, you're ready.

Sam, let me be your ride out of town.

Run away with me.

California dreams, here we come.

Romeo is calling for Juliet.

Ready, set, Sam, you're ready.

Let's go anywhere.

Say the word and I'm already there.

Run away with me.

 

[Sands performs a reading from The Legend of Georgia McBride by Matthew Lopez.]

 

Sands

You ever been to Houston? Miserable town for a little gay boy to come up in. The only place in the world I felt safe was inside a bar called the Montrose Mining Company. That's where I put on my first face. So this one night in between shows, I walk out to my car to get my cigarettes, when a brick materializes out of nowhere and hits me in the face. Right here. Then another brick hits me in the back of the head. Right here. By now, I'm on the ground, and I look up to see two of Houston's most promising young citizens preparing to kick the living shit out of me. I get to my feet, I face my attackers, and I say, "Well, motherfuckers, show me what you got." They did all right. Seven stitches. 18. Broken, busted, false. I was 16 years old, and I still have the guts to walk out to my car every night as I am, even in this shitty, homophobic town, because I'm a drag queen, bitch. Drag ain't a hobby Drag ain't a night job. Drag is a protest. Drag is a raised fist inside of a sequined glove. Drag is a lot of things, baby but drag is not for sissies.

 

[An actor wearing a purple top and jeans performs a reading from Black Thang by Ato Essandoh.]

 

Jamie Loeb

My name is Maddie, by the way. I mean, just in case you forgot. I mean, I'm not saying you forgot or would forget or anything like that, but just in case you did, which would be totally understandable given the circumstances. I just want to say that it's totally fine, and that my name was Maddie. And I wanted to let you know that last night was great. Yep, and I'm totally cool with this whole thing, by the way. These things happen all the time. I mean, we're two adults here. Let's not get all crazy, right? It's not like I'm super religious or anything, and I don't get the sense that you are either. Are you? You'd be a hypocrite if you were. Unless, of course, you were part of some freaky cult religion that actually condoned aggressive, uninhibited sex with semi-complete strangers? And if that's the case, sign me up. You know what I mean? So, what happened happened, and all consequences are solely ours to bear. And speaking of consequences, I feel safe. I hope you do too. I think we did the safe thing quite well, just in case you were wondering. I don't think any of your little X-wing fighters blew up the Death Star, if you know what I mean. They couldn't have with the battery of contraceptives at my disposal. Plus, you had condoms, so I would say we were pretty safe all around. No babies, no scabies. That's my motto. Okay, great. I just like things to be clear. I think we're done here.

 

[Loeb performs a reading from Angels in America by Tony Kushner.]

 

Loeb

Where were you? Where? It's late. I burned dinner. Not my dinner. My dinner was fine. Your dinner. I put it back in the oven and turned everything up as high as it could go, and I watched it till it burned black. It's still hot. Very hot. Want it? It just seemed like the sort of thing a mentally deranged, sex-starved, pill-popping housewife would do, so I did it. Who knows anymore what I have to do? No, no, don't do that. I'm fine. Pills are not the problem. Not our problem. I want to know where you've been. I want to know what's going on. If you try to walk out right now, I'll put your dinner back in the oven and turn it up so high the whole building will fill with smoke and everyone in it will asphyxiate, so help me God, I will. Tell me without making me ask, please. When you come through the door at night, your face is never exactly the way I remember it. I get surprised by something mean and hard about the way you look. Even the weight of you in the bed at night, the way you breathe in your sleep seems unfamiliar. You terrify me. Yes. I'm the enemy. That's easy. That doesn't change. You think you're the only one who hates sex? I do. I hate it with you. I do. I dream that you batter away at me till all my joints come apart like wax, and I fall into pieces. It's like a punishment. It was wrong of me to marry you. I knew you were a... It's a sin, and it's killing us both. Are you a homo?

 

[An actor wearing a green sweater sings a portion of “Work Song” by Hozier.]

 

Otto Klemp

My baby never fret none, about what my hands and my body done.

If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby, and my babe would have me.

When I was kissing on my baby, she laid her love down soft and sweet.

In the low lamp light I was free, heaven and hell were words to me.

When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth.

No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her.

When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth.

No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her.

 

[Klemp performs a reading from Mosquitoes by Lucy Kirkwood.]

 

Klemp

I put a leaflet in Natalie's locker about HPV. It's like this STD thing, virus. It affects your cervix, right? I was in the nurse's office, and I saw these leaflets about this injection that girls can get that keeps them from getting it, and so I thought she should know so she can like-protect herself. But so she comes up to me at lunch with Eloise and Stefan, and she asks me, "Did you put this leaflet in my locker?" And they start laughing, everybody laughing, shouting, throwing things like leaves, cans, and then Stefan shoves me, so I shove him back, and he shoves me again, and I fall down. And now they're screaming, laughing. But Natalie wasn't laughing. She tried to stop him, and he's hitting me. He's smacking me all around, and then I see this big stick, and I manage to grab it, and yeah. And then there's blood all over his face, down his shirt and off his chin, and he's crying. Openly crying in front of everybody, and the girls, and so I just run. They laugh at everything. They laugh constantly, like everything's funny. And I look at them, and in my head, I'm thinking about how they're going to die. Not in a threatening way, not planning it, but just statistically. You know?

 

[An actor wearing a pink top and denim overalls performs a reading from Oh, Mary! by Cole Escoloa.]

 

India Eddy

Hello. I'm here for my audition. I'm so sorry I'm late. I got held up at home by my hus- by a gay guy. Anyways, I'm here now. That's all that matters, right? Ta-da. Presenting Mary Todd. Oh, that's my name, by the way, Mary Todd. Of course, my married name is Lincoln, but I'm not trying to use that to curry any favor. Hmm, curry. Now I'm hungry. No. Okay. Where should I start? Today, I will be reciting for you the nurse's part from "Romeo and Juliet" by William Shakespeare. And I'm just now realizing that I forgot my book. Don't have my book. But that's okay. I will improvise. Okay? Yes. I will improvise for you here. But, okay. This is Nurse from "Romeo and Juliet." "Oi, me name's the Nurse, and I done seen that Romeo kissin' Lady Miss Juliet, I have. I seen it with me own two eyes. Of course, I done a right good lot of kissin' in my time, I have. Loads of men fresh off of them sailboats down at the docks. But I don't kiss and tell. Not like Lady Miss Juliet, who's been kissin' and tellin' and kissin' some more. She done killed herself today, and guess who's got to clean up the mess? Old Nurse. Ah, well, at least I've got me memories. Good night." Would you like to see something else? I'm much better with a script, I promise.

 

[Eddy performs a reading from The Curse of the Starving Class by Sam Shepard.]

 

Eddy

Hey. Where's my chicken? I had a fryer in there all ready to go. I killed it and dressed it and everything. And I just put it in there yesterday, too. So... You didn't use it, did you? For a soup or something? Because it's not in there. So... That was my chicken. What'd you even do, fucking boil it or something? Oh my God, you boiled my chicken. I raised that chicken from the incubator to the grave, and you just boiled it like it was any other frozen hunk of flesh. No, you used it with no consideration for the labor involved. I had to feed that chicken crushed corn every morning for a year. I had to change its water. I had to kill it with an ax. I had to pluck every fucking feather off of its body and spill its guts out, and I had to do all of that work so that you could just take it and boil it? Oh my God. Eat my socks.

 

[An actor wearing a green top performs a reading from The Cake by Bekah Brunstetter.]

 

Lillian Cooper

I wouldn't expect you to understand. It's always been different for you. Your mom's a therapist, and she buys you weed. Your parents aren't even married. 10 years old, you were taking the city bus to school, reading "Lolita." I thought Lolita was a ChapStick color. And we live in Brooklyn, okay? Everybody here is a lesbian. We are in a book club just for lesbians. There are so many of us that they had to make a book club just for lesbians who just enjoy young adult fiction from the 1980s. I feel torn in half in there. It's all like Hare Krishna and almond butter and vagina piercings, and I take it all in because that's where I live. Because I'm supposed to. Because my mother raised me to be agreeable. But in my head, I just go away. I go back to my parents' dining room and I listen to them lament about what is wrong with this world, and there is a part of me that agrees with them. No matter how much I learn, it is still in there. It was a good part of my life for a long time. Every time someone says that God doesn't exist, something inside of me just burns. I am of two different minds all the time.

 

[Cooper performs a reading from Dryland by Ruby Rae Spiegel.]

 

Cooper

You think I didn't see you hanging up my swimsuit while I was in the shower? You think I don't notice how you look at me while I dry my hair? Do you really think I hang out with you because I like you? I only let you follow me around because you would do anything for me because you fucking worship me. How many times have you thought about kissing me? How many times have you thought about my legs or my arms, or about me dripping wet in a bathing suit smelling like sunscreen and chlorine and totally ready for you to fuck me? You love me more than you've loved anything, ever, and I know that you want to kiss me so fucking bad right now. Look at me, Esther. Look at me. Look at me.

 

[An actor wearing a denim dress sings a piece from “How are Things in Glocca Morra?” from Finian’s Rainbow.]

 

Nat Harper

How are things in Glocca Morra?

Is that willow tree still weeping there?

And does that laddie with the twinkling eye come whistling by?

And does he walk away sad and dreamy there, not to see me there?

So I ask each weeping willow, and each brook along the way.

And each lad who comes a-whistling, to relay.

How are things in Glocca Morra this fine day?

 

[Harper performs a reading of Appropriate by Branden Jacobs-Jenkins.]

 

Harper

No offense, Tony, but you and I are not the same person. And what Franz and I have is real love, and I'm going to have his baby. And I want for you to be a part of this child's life, but I can't make you. But don't you think that Franz is going to need your help? And don't you think that this child deserves to have a father who knows what the love of family is? And I know what he did here, Tony, and I don't care. And I was a young girl once. I remember what it was like to have the attentions of an older man. I remember what it was to want to feel grown up. And I'm not excusing what he did, but I do think that there are gray areas. And I think that people make mistakes and deserve to be forgiven when they ask for it. "I'm sorry" is one of the oldest rituals we have. Did you know that the root of the word sorry is sore? When we say, "I'm sorry," we're literally saying, "I'm sore." We offer up our suffering to the collective, and we move on. Isn't that beautiful?

 

[An actor wearing a blue sweater performs a reading from Funhouse by Eric Bogosian.]

 

 

Ethan Dunne Stewart

Yeah. I got something to say. I got a few last words. This is what I got to say. You don't know. You don't know anything about me. You don't know anything about the world, about reality. Got it? Who the hell are you people? Who are you to say he dies? What gives you that right, huh? My peers? My jury of peers. You're not my peers, because I look down on you. So maybe I killed those girls. So what? I didn't. But what if I did? Insignificant people die all the time. See, that's the big joke, see? You're just here because I'm here. You just came here tonight to see me. I'm the one. I'm sitting up here, and you're just sitting out there scared. You're afraid of me, like Jesus. And you think you can just put me away, and that's the end of it? And that's where you're wrong, man. You can't get rid of me, because I'm everywhere.

 

[Stewart performs a reading from Pump Up the Volume by Allan Moyle.]

 

Stewart

Suicide is not a pretty picture. First of all, you shit your shorts. So there you are, dead. People are weeping over you, crying. Girls you never spoke to are saying, "Why? Why? Why?" And you have a load in your shorts. That's the way I see it, sue me. Now, they say I shouldn't think stuff like this, that there's something wrong with me, that I should be ashamed. Well, I'm sick of being ashamed, aren't you? I don't mind being dejected and rejected, but I'm not going to be ashamed about it. At least the pain is real. You look around and you see nothing is real, but the pain is real. Even the show isn't real. I'm a phony fuck just like my dad, just like anybody. You see, the real me is just as worried as the rest of you. And they say I'm disturbed. Well, of course I'm disturbed. I mean, we're all disturbed. And if we're not, why not? Doesn't this blend of blindness and blandness make you want to do something crazy? Then why not do something crazy? It makes a hell of a lot more sense than blowing your fucking brains out.

 

[An actor wearing a blue top and green skirt performs a reading from Cymbeline by William Shakespeare.]

 

Sadie Gingold

O, for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio?

He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me

How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs

May plod it in a week, why may not I

Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,—

Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,—

let me bate,-but not like me—yet long'st,

But in a fainter kind:—O, not like me;

For mine's beyond beyond—say, and speak thick;

Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,

To the smothering of the sense—how far it is

To this same blessed Milford: and by the way

Tell me how Wales was made so happy as

To inherit such a haven: but first of all,

How we may steal from hence, and for the gap

That we shall make in time, from our hence-going

And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence:

Why should excuse be born or e'er begot?

We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak,

How many score of miles may we well ride

'Twixt hour and hour?

 

[Gingold performs a reading from Blackbird by David Harrower.]

 

Gingold

Of course it's me. How many other 12-year-old girls have you had sex with? Do you want to see the birthmark? You kissed it. Or what you said to me on the beach? None? We change, 12-year-old girls. We grow up to be older, so think. Just me, alone in that room. You know, I thought it was going to be harder to look at you, to talk, but it's not. It's easy. And I would have recognized you anywhere. With my back to you. Look at me. You have someone? You're living with someone? I know you're with a woman. I'm not stupid, Ray. You said I wasn't stupid. I want to meet her. How old is she, hmm? What's the age difference? Tell me. Say something.

 

[An actor wearing a green polo performs a piece from the song “Someone Else’s Skin” from Catch Me if You Can.]

 

Elijah Paruzynski

I'm gonna run down the street, run out of town.

I'm gonna run from the home team and never touch down.

Run from the books 'cause it's all been a fake.

I'm gonna run from the choices that I don't wanna make.

School's not out, but I can't wait.

It's a perfect time to graduate today.

I've gotta run away now. I've gotta run away, oh, yeah.

I know they'll see the truth when I move on.

They'll need each other much more once I'm gone.

And when I'm flush and he's back on his feet.

I'll pick him up and run down Easy Street.

No time to cry for all the years.

A rusty gas tank full of tears gets you nowhere.

Not places I want in.

And I just don't feel at home in mine so I'll slip now.

Into someone else's skin.

Into someone else's skin.

Yeah. Into someone else's skin.

Into someone else's skin.

 

[Paruzynski performs a reading from Golden Boy by Clifford Odets.]

 

Paruzynski

Can I tell you something? If you laugh, I'll never speak to you again. With music, I'm never alone when I'm alone. Playing music, that's like saying, "I am man. I belong here. How do you do, world? Good evening." Now, when I play music, nothing is closed to me. I'm not afraid of people or what they think. There's no war in music. It's not like the streets. Oh, does this sound funny to you? No, but when you leave your room, in the streets, it's war. Music can't help me there, you understand? No, people hurt my feelings for years. I never forget it. You can't get even with people by playing the fiddle. Musicians and people like that are freaks today. The world moves fast, and they sit around like forgotten dopes. You have to be what you are.

 

[An actor wearing a brown top performs a reading from Doubt: A Parable by John Patrick Shanley.]

 

Carmen Rose Del Vecchio

You just don't like him. You don't like that he uses a ballpoint pen. You don't like that he takes three lumps of sugar in his tea. You don't like that he likes Frosty the Snowman, and you're letting that convince you of something terrible. Just terrible. Well, I like Frosty the Snowman, and I think it would be nice if this school weren't run like a prison And I love that I love to teach history, and that I might inspire my students to love it too. And if you think that makes me not fit to be a teacher, then so be it. Actually, by and large, the children seem fairly happy here but they're all uniformly terrified of you.

 

[Del Vecchio performs a reading from Confederates by Dominique Morisseau.]

 

Del Vecchio

This job saved my life actually. I will be cut off next semester because apparently my parents make too much money, which is only about 1,000 bucks over the required income cap. It's completely ridiculous, but it's whatever. I know I can't complain about it anymore because, well, I'm white, so there's that. I mean, it's said in subliminals. You get a feeling around campus with all these protests and rallies going on. That stuff's pretty intense. No one wants to listen to a middle-class girl's problems. Anyway, I'm aware of my white privilege, and I don't have a problem with it, it's just I know there's some things I can't complain about anymore. But I could've had a way better financial package if I just stayed in state, but now I'm working like a slave, no offense, to pay off my fucking tuition and still have money for food. And after a nuclear bomb level of a phone call basically blowing up what was not much of a life in the first place. A measly 10-minute shower is just not going to cut it. But maybe that's just my privilege talking.

 

[An actor wearing a teal polo and a denim jacket performs a reading from Buried Child by Sam Shepard.]

 

Reece McAbee

I was going to run last night. I was going to run and keep on running clear to the Iowa border. I drove all night with the windows open, the old man's two buckets flapping on the seat right beside me. I could see myself in the windshield, my face, my eyes. I studied my face. I studied everything about it as though I was looking at another man, like I was looking at a mummy's face. I saw him dead and alive at the same time, in the same breath. I watched him breathe as though every breath marked him, marked him forever without him knowing. And then his face changed. His face became his father's face, and then his grandfather's face, and it went on like that, changing clear on back to faces I had never seen before, but I still recognized. I still recognized the bones underneath. I followed my family clear into Iowa, straight into the Corn Belt and further. Straight back as far as they'd take me, and then it all dissolved. Everything dissolved just like that. And the old man's two buckets kept right on flapping on the seat beside me.

 

[McAbee performs a reading from Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare.]

 

McAbee

It must be by his death. And for my part
I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
But for the general. He would be crowned:
How that might change his nature, there’s the question.
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder,
And that craves wary walking. Crown him that,
And then I grant we put a sting in him
That at his will he may do danger with.
Th’ abuse of greatness is when it disjoins
Remorse from power. And, to speak truth of Caesar,
I have not known when his affections swayed
More than his reason. But ’tis a common proof
That lowliness is young ambition’s ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
But, when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend. So Caesar may.
Then, lest he may, prevent. And since the quarrel
Will bear no color for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus: that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these and these extremities.
And therefore think him as a serpent’s egg,
Which, hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous,
And kill him in the shell.

 

[An actor wearing a dark orange top and green trousers sings a piece from “Everything I Know” from In the Heights.]

 

Anahi Jimenez-Chmielowski

In this folder, there's a picture from my high school graduation with a program in mint condition and a star beside my name.

Here's a picture of my parents as I left for California.

She saved everything we gave her, every little scrap of paper, and our lives are in these boxes while the woman who held us is gone.

But we go on.

We grow.

So hold tight.

Abuela, if you're out there, I'll make you proud of everything I know.

Thank you for everything I know.

 

[Jimenez Chmielowski performs a reading from Abstract Expression by Theresa Rebeck.]

 

Jimenez Chmielowski

What's it like to be poor? It's like not having enough money. You worry a lot. It's not interesting. It's not. It's just you don't have enough money. That's all it is. You skip breakfast. You buy cheap shoes. You stand in the drugstore, and you try to figure out whether to buy the big bottle of aspirin or the little one. And all you can think of is, of course, it's better to just spend the money and buy the big bottle because then you'll have paid less per aspirin. But if you do that, you won't have enough left to go to a movie. And sometimes you just want to go to a movie. You'd be amazed at how long that stuff sticks in your head. And then you think about other cities where movies don't cost $8, and you get mad because $8 is a lot for a movie. It's boring, really. A lot of boring stuff just sticks in your head for a long time. You think about money all the time.

 

[An actor wearing an orange quarter-zip sweater performs a reading from Completeness by Itamar Moses.]

 

Sam Matthews

I've been coming by this computer cluster a lot lately, just at random different times of the day. Not because it's remotely convenient for me or on my way anywhere, but just because I've been hoping. Molly, I really like you, like a lot. I'm attracted to you and you're really smart, and we're interested in a lot of the same things, so if I seem remote, well then, I'm sorry it seems that way, but it has nothing to do with not wanting to be close to you. What it is, it's the fear that knowing everything about each other would somehow eliminate the wanting. So I was hoping that maybe this time I could keep you just close enough to keep you from disappearing, but just far enough away to maintain that feeling, and then we could draw this first part out a bit. Because I don't have any compelling evidence that anything better after this exists. That it ever gets any better than wanting to be with you and knowing that I can, or that I could. So I want us to know everything about each other. I want us to know so much about each other that it turns out we know less and less every single day.

 

[Matthews performs a reading from Really Really by Paul Colazzio.]

 

Matthews

Look, this whole thing is a big deal, all right? I haven't been able to breathe for all 21 years of my life because I have been trying desperately to become the man I want to be. And don't you tell me I'm not a good friend, because I am. I schedule time before tests to help you even before you've asked. I go to your house for parties when you know full well I hate parties. I hate them, but I go because I'm a good friend. And when Natalie dumped you, I was the only one who didn't curse her out right away because I knew you still loved her. Why? Because I'm a good friend, Davis. So I'm sorry if on the eve of my graduation from college, I don't want to be drawn into the midst of some scandal. Just be a good friend, Davis. Don't bring me down with you.

 

[An actor wearing a dark orange, short sleeve button-up shirt sings a piece from “We Gotta Get Out of this Place” from Beautiful: The Carole King Musical.]

 

Crayton Haney

In this dirty old part of the city, where the sun refused to shine. People tell me it ain't no use in trying. I see my daddy in bed a-dying. I see his hair a-turning gray. He's been working, slaving his life away. He's been working. He's been working. He's been working and working, working, yeah. Well, we got to get out of this place. If it's the last thing we'll ever do. Well, we got to get out of this place. Girl, there's a better life for me and you. Girl, there's a better life for me and you.

 

[Haney sings a piece from “Bright Star” from Bright Star.]

 

Haney

I'm ready for my life to begin. I'm ready for it all to start. My heart's about to bust. Don't lead the way I must, follow my own bright star. I've seen a weak man fight. I've seen a strong man cry. I have learned the brightest day can turn into the darkest night. Bright star, keep shining for me. Shine on and see me through. Bright star, keep shining for me. And someday, I'll shine for you.

 

[An actor wearing a dark red, longsleeve top performs a reading from This is How You Got Me Naked by Catherine Weingarten.]

 

Ainsley Hammond

I think it's really cool that you're a junior and older than me, and therefore better at things. Like your slam poetry on the topic of marshmallows, so subtle, yet, I don't know, kind of hot. Like who even thinks about marshmallows like that? I don't. I just eat them. Maybe I shouldn't have come to this party. And now we're in your room alone. Well, you're in your bathroom, so the adjacent room, but I don't know. I've never been here like this before as more than a bro, but as a woman. Oh my gosh, I think I'm going to cry. No, I'm fine. It's just, I've been taking this Meisner acting class for non-majors and it's really opened me up and all we do is talk about our childhood and shit, and I think I love you. No! Not you, but the concept of you. You're worth crying about in Meisner.

 

[Hammond performs a reading from Witches by Jen Silverman.]

 

Hammond

No, there's just so much bullshit to put up with. There are so many times in which I'm right here. I am right here, and people look through me like I'm empty air. There are so many times in which I want to say something, but there's a voice in my head. It says, "What's the use?" It says, "Do you really want to draw attention?" And I want to want to speak, but I just get so tired that in the end it's easier not to. And the one thing I know I have, the only thing, is whatever I have inside of me that makes people so uncomfortable, the thing they don't want to look too closely at, the thing they don't want to listen to. Well, what if that's my soul? And I give it away, and then they win. So I don't expect you to understand, but that's why. It's not a good reason, but it's the one I have.

 

[An actor wearing a royal blue polo sings a piece from “Desert Island Top 5 Breakups” from High Fidelity.]

 

Braidy Kirkegaard

These are the ones that tore my heart out. These are the ones that ate me alive. You might squeeze into the top 10, Laura, but you're nowhere near the top five. These are the girls who got in early. They scarred me for life, I have no doubt. But you're too late now. You don't rate that kind of hurt, that kind of clout. Oh, Laura, Laura, you'll be missed. But sweet, sweet Laura, you don't even make the list. Because losing you is like having no cash. It's like having a cold in the middle of the summer. Losing you is a sold-out movie. No big deal, just kind of a bummer. You're a pizza dream, an ice cream headache that you know will soon be gone. Five minutes of pain, then you move on. Then you move on.

 

[Kirkegaard performs a reading from Other Desert Cities by John Robin Baitz.]

 

Kirkegaard

Just listen to me, all of you. There are three places that I could be right now, Cape Town, Punta del Este, or Bahia. And there, there are nice girls with nice families that aren't trying to fucking assassinate each other over a goddamn book. Over a book. That is of 0.1% conceivable interest to anyone I know, and I know a lot of people. I have met so many people from working on my show. The way that the bored and the desperate just throw away any chance at happiness they have, it makes me want to look at them and go, "Hey, you schmucks. There you go. You've thrown away another day of living better." But me, I am goddamn happy, and I am not going to let you take that away from me. So I have flights booked to three distant cities, and as of right now, I will only be canceling two of them. So as to would I stone her, you see, I'm not asking for peace like Dad is, Mom. I'm just saying I won't be played, not by any one of you.

 

[A montage of each actor stating their name plays.]

 

Barry

Norah Barry.

 

Balicki

Olivia Balicki.

 

Newstead-Adams

Maggie Newstead-Adams.

 

Sands

Bryson Sands.

 

Loeb

Jamie Loeb.

 

Klemp

Otto Klemp.

 

Eddy

India Eddy.

 

Cooper

Lillian Cooper.

 

Harper

Nat Harper.

 

Stewart

Ethan Dunne Stewart.

 

Gingold

Sadie Gingold.

 

Paruzynski

Elijah Paruzynski.

 

Del Vecchio

Carmen Rose Del Vecchio.

 

McAbee

Reece McAbee.

 

Jimenez Chmielowski

Anahi Jimenez Chmielowski.

 

Matthews

Sam Matthews.

 

Haney

Crayton Haney.

 

Hammond

Ainsley Hammond.

 

Kirkegaard

Braidy Kirkegaard.

 

[The Webster University logo appears onscreen accompanied by the Sargent Conservatory of Theatre Arts emblem.]