A moment of disappointing self-discovery…
Remember when online quizzes were a thing?
The halcyon days.
Of course I want to know what kind of root vegetable I am — and I’ll get nothing done until I find out!
Online quizzes were great fun. Most of the time, I would tailor my answers to get the desired outcome. But sometimes — when I felt the outcome really mattered — I’d answer honestly in hopes that the result I wanted would happen organically. Then I’d have scientific proof that I was, in fact, the human equivalent of a beet.
Naturally, when I came across the quiz that asked “Which Jane Austen heroine are you?” I had to take it right away. Although I had always seen myself as an Elizabeth Bennett, I decided to approach this particular quiz with total honesty…
…while anticipating that I would see “You are Lizzy Bennet from Pride and Prejudice” pop up as my result.
I was taken aback, therefore, when the result of my quiz revealed that I am not Lizzy Bennet from Pride and Prejudice.
I am, in fact, Catherine Morland from Northanger Abbey.
wait wut?
After recovering from the initial disappointment, I realized the quiz was right. Of all Jane Austen’s heroines, I’m definitely Catherine Morland. I came to embrace it ... eventually.
Besides, I would soon have another opportunity to live out my Lizzy Bennet fantasy — and in a much more tangible fashion.
A golden opportunity — followed by a rare audition experience.
Shortly after I left graduate school (obligatory “Go Gators”) and moved to New York, I found an audition notice for a production of Pride and Prejudice at a theater in Virginia. Being in one of the more confident chapters of my life, I took a train down to Virginia to attend the non-Equity local call.
me rolling up like I've already got the part
It must be stated that I’ve never been a consistently strong auditioner. Historically, my track record has hovered around 50/50. Half the time, I’d come out of an audition room feeling confident in what I’d just done. The rest of the time, I’d come out wondering what the hell just happened. The more I wanted a role, the more likely I was to experience the latter sensation. The less I cared, the more likely I was to nail it.
Such is life.
So, you’ll forgive me for dusting off the ol’ horn and giving it a braggadocious toot…
toot toot
… this audition for Pride and Prejudice …
… this was a good audition.
The director must have thought so, too. Following the call in Virginia, he asked if I would serve as the reader for the Equity auditions that were coming up in New York. Naturally, I said yes.
Weeks later, I was in a studio with the show’s director and the casting director, reading opposite every Equity auditioner. The director even asked me for my opinion on some of the auditions — me! And while several candidates gave charming, nuanced, and delightfully unique representations of Lizzy (and surely would have done the role justice in this particular production), I still harbored the hope that I had clinched it. Something in my gut told me that the stars would align, the muses would bend their favor in my direction, and I would finally have my Lizzy Bennet moment…
Yeah, no.
It was not to be.
The casting offers were sent out several days later. Instead of being cast as Lizzy, I’d secured the role of her good friend and confidant, Charlotte Lucas.
Don’t get me wrong — Charlotte isn’t a bad character. Far from it. Her role is an important one, and her involvement in the narrative is memorable. But still, it’s jarring to go from feeling like you’re a Lizzy to being told you’re a Charlotte.
pretending to be a Lizzy while realizing I'm actually a Charlotte
In the book, it’s generally understood by all the other characters that at 27 years old and still unmarried, Charlotte is basically a hideous spinster who everyone likes, but nobody really thinks about after she’s left the room. She’s kind, intelligent, and sensible — but complacent, dispassionate, and unromantic.
Charlotte is, in many ways, the opposite of Lizzy.
Again, I was forced to overcome a twinge of disappointment. This seemed to be definitive proof that I am not, as I had always hoped, a Lizzy Bennet by nature. I am, in fact, the sturdy best friend who is often overlooked, but happy to be included.
But a role is a role, and I was grateful for the opportunity to be a working actor — especially since it meant being able to play in Austen’s world with a group of talented performers. I was determined to heal my wounded ego quickly and do right by Charlotte's character.
me all ready to get this Regency rave started
Charlotte is awesome, actually.
I ended up having an incredible time being Charlotte. In fact, she’s still one of my favorite roles I’ve ever played. The actor playing Lizzy was fantastic — and admittedly one hundred times more of a Lizzy than I’ll ever be — and I had a blast building the world of Pride and Prejudice with her and the other actors in the cast.
Lizzy + Charlotte = friendship goals
But in addition to having fun, I also wanted to do my character justice. After re-reading Pride and Prejudice and comparing the original text to the script adaptation, I decided to take a purist’s approach to Charlotte’s character. I wouldn’t try to color her with shades that weren’t evident in the text. I wasn’t going to make her more complex than Jane Austen had intended — after all, Pride and Prejudice isn’t Charlotte’s story.
In the scene when Charlotte tells Lizzy that she’s agreed to marry Mr Collins, I said my line, “I am not romantic,” without a hint of subtext that would suggest my character wasn’t being genuine.
My Charlotte was sweet, docile, and realistic…
…and above all, completely risk-averse.
always go straight to the source
The whole reason Charlotte married Mr Collins was to avoid the risk of being a financial burden to her family. She needed a living, and the only way for her to get one was to marry it. Such was life for most women in her time.
Mr Collins, having experienced a swift recovery following Lizzy’s refusal of his marriage proposal, was willing to swoop in and save Charlotte from a life of public scorn and economic dependency. She recognized Mr Collins’s unromantic gesture as her only chance of having — if not a particularly happy ending — an ending that included a roof over her head and the respect of her neighbors. All she had to do was put up with a slightly ridiculous man for the rest of her life, and she’d be happy enough.
I accepted Charlotte as she was written. I didn’t play her as if she pitied herself for marrying Mr Collins. Instead, I portrayed her as a woman who felt she’d made a logical decision for her given circumstances — and who was determined to be content with that decision, even if it wasn’t worthy of a sweeping romantic narrative like Lizzy’s.
And then, the lightning bolt striketh.
Given the approach I had taken with Charlotte’s character, I was left slightly confused by an encounter I had with an audience member after one of the performances.
This audience member spotted me in the theater lobby and flagged me down to gush about the show and bond over our mutual love of Pride and Prejudice. She also happened to have very strong feelings about Charlotte’s character.
In our fleeting conversation, she said something I will never forget: “I love Charlotte — but I always feel so sorry for how her story ends.”
everyone hearing that Charlotte is gonna marry Mr C
Again, I hadn’t played Charlotte in a way that was designed to solicit pity — and it’s not that I thought the audience member had misinterpreted my performance. She was obviously a Jane Austen fan whose opinion of Charlotte had been formed long before I ever put my spin on the character.
But her comment made me realize a universal truth about Charlotte’s character — when it comes to her ending in Pride and Prejudice, the pity is unavoidable.
Yes, she comes away with a good living and a secure future…
… but on the other hand, she’s married to this guy.
nobody should look at potatoes like that
And it made me think…
… what would have to happen to reverse that feeling of pity for Charlotte’s ending?
Is there a story that would give audiences a new perspective of the choice Charlotte made in Pride and Prejudice?
And could such a story be told on the stage?
I wondered…
is it possible...?
An idea is born.
I’ll never forget my random post-show encounter with that audience member. I never learned her name and can’t remember what she looked like, but I remember her words well enough:
“I feel so sorry for how Charlotte’s story ends.”
With just one sentence, that audience member had planted the seed of an idea that would become my most beloved creative project yet. I was going to write a play that would flip the audience’s pity for Charlotte on its head and completely change their perspective of her ending.
Essentially, I would yank Charlotte out of the role of supporting character and into the protagonist’s spotlight…
…whether she wanted it or not.
Continue reading to find out how an idea becomes a play.
Written by: Grace Abele
Editor: Peter Giordano
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