I Hold My Breath, And You Close My Eyes, As A Curtain Of Light Drops From The Skies, I Never Knew, My Love Could Get So Far, From Me

--"Sippy Cup", Gospel Gossip

I was watching Castle tonight do their big Halloween-themed episode. While it was superb as usual--full of the requisite twists and cinematic banter between all the characters involved--what struck me as quite original was the use of Nathan Fillion in the opening scene. Because it was a holiday-themed episode, we see his character Richard Castle strapping on his boots, donning his brown leather duster, and stepping out of the door as... Captain Malcolm Reynolds, otherwise known as the character he portrayed for less than a season five years ago on his other starring vehicle, Firefly. As Lucy would say, it was a hoot-and-a-half to see him unexpectedly reprise, even for a fleeting moment, one of the most beloved characters in all of the Whedonverse.

Two different characters. Two different world views. And yet they were both portrayed by the same actor. While it might have been five years since he last looked like a Browncoat, I can honestly say that even if the show had lasted five years long, I couldn't have pictured Nathan looking any different as Mal than he did tonight. In fact, it makes me wonder how much his character's appearance might have transformed had that show run its full course. Would the Mal I saw on Castle still have been the Mal on Firefly, season 6? Who's to say. It was just nice getting to visit with an old friend again, albeit briefly.


I've written me off, I've written me off

It also makes me wonder what becomes of the affection an actor holds for the character he plays, especially television actors who sometimes have to don the coats of the character for upwards of six or seven years sometimes. After their show has been cancelled, after all the sets have been torn down, I wonder just how much they really miss the invitation to walk in those shoes ever again. I know--some actors treat their roles as the jobs they are. I suppose some actors really are able to jump from character to character, like Sam Beckett, never giving a second thought to the people whose soul they pushed into their bodies, but I believe that with some performers they truly do feel like they've lost a part of themselves when they are told they will no longer be able to be that person ever again. I believe that some actors or actresses just take it that much to heart; just like I believe there are some roles that are harder to shed than others--not because they're more profound or because they are in any way "better" roles, but because there are just roles which are more illuminating, more rewarding, and just plain more fun to tackle than others.

Those are the roles that make me wonder how hard it is to give up the ghost. Those are the roles that come along only a few times in a performer's life.

It makes me think of the precepts we normal folk adopt, the characters we choose to portray. Shakespeare had it right, I'm afraid. One man in his time does play many parts. What he failed to mention, though, is that there are some parts that we seem to take to more effectively than others. Whether that's because we find the challenge in the role ourselves or because the role is thrust upon us and we get pigeonholed into playing that part over and over again; there's just some masks that we wear that over time blends into the face we wore before, and just becomes a new face. The more we put on these masks, the more we hide behind them, the harder it gets to separate us from the costume. That's what I've come to discover over the years. It isn't so much who we are as people on the inside that defines us, but what the world sees us on the outside as that defines us. It's really like the difference between a person's story and a person's backstory. The backstory may be able to explain why a person does something, what their motivations are, but the only thing that matters is what a person's remembered for, never mind the reason they did what they did.

When a person changes identities--when that awkward teen in high school tries to become that easygoing college student, when the weakling runt of the litter takes up martial arts to become more proud of himself, when the stubborn tomboy grows up to become the earthly mother of three--sometimes there's a struggle involved. Sometimes the struggle is external with the world not knowing that person as anything other than what they are known for. Sometimes it takes an extended period of time for those closest to the person involved to see them as the person they are trying to become. Sometimes the struggle is internal with the person not really sure he or she wants to change anything about himself at all. Sometimes it does take outside forces and outside pressure from people around them for that man to become the person they are meant to be.

Often, though, it's more than that. Often, despite the acceptance that their transformation is for the best, a person will still struggle with the process of letting go of their old identity. They could have been known as a boldfaced liar, a notorious violent person, or even the scourge of the seven seas, and even though they see for themselves the need to metamorphose into something grander, they still blanche at changing any more quickly than they have to. It's not that they really want to hold onto the viler aspects of their character; it's merely that they had to live with that facet of themselves for so long it's really become all they know. Even though they know it isn't working out for them, they really lack the experience to be any other way in the beginning.

That's why people hold onto their old monikers for so long. That's why the class clown often becomes the wearisome jokester long after his jokes have stopped being funny. They don't know what else to do if they don't do what they've always done. If I'm not funny, they say, then I'm nothing.

That's why I can empathize with actors who still revisit with their more well-known characters. I know what it's like to be thought of in a certain light early on... and then suddenly lose that quality that made you special. I know what it's like to lose all definition of who you are, to be a performer without a new role to play. I know what it's like to fall back into old routines, old conversations, because you know who you were when you were playing that part. It may not be who you are now, but when you're still struggling to figure out the "new" you or the "improved" you, it's all too easy to wonder if you simply weren't better off going your whole life being known for one part of your personality and that one part only.

At least you were somebody and at least people talked about you.

When you have a purpose in life you tend to hold onto it strongly, sometimes longer than you should. It beats not having a purpose and feeling like you need to grab onto whatever you can that passes near to you. When you have your role set for you, you sometimes stay rooted to that role rather than look for the part you really were supposed to play. Sometimes its easier to get stuck in the rut rather than wander off directionless.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers