La Loteria
A Reflection on the Bizarrities of La Loteria
By Ian Turner-La Muerte
The latter half of the 2004-2005 school year was an interesting time for me, to say the least. Recently freed from the grip of the Academic Decathlon team, I decided to spend my remaining 6th periods in something enjoyable, i.e. having absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with academics. Using that as my primary class-choice criterion, I joined Eagle Rock play production, having earlier witnessed the spectacle of their fantasmical Antigone: The Remix.
Upon the first reading of the script for "La Loteria", I was, at best, confused. It was a non-linear storyline with multiple subplots and riddled with inside jokes exclusive to Spanish-speakers. Um .. Chivas .. yeah .. ha, ha. At least I had found a character that I liked. La Muerte, the spirit of death, the ruler of hell. That sounded fun, so I tried out for the part. Using my best booming voice and evil laugh, I got it. Unsuspectingly, I began rehearsing lines and had a mannerism worked out and everything, then Copley told me to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show, a movie I had never seen, with focus directed toward Dr. Frankenfurter. I was to model my character on him.
As soon as Tim Curry came on screen, I thought, "Oh, dear god, no." The viewing experience was downhill from there. When the film had finished, I had an extremely good idea of what kind of character I was playing, and, though disheartened, stuck with it. This was to be my first time looking like a crazed transsexual maniac, and it was not pleasant. My costume consisted of a corset, skirt, tights, a giant brown afro wig, and massive platform shoes. It was quite uncomfortable, and I gained a new respect for women and whoever the hell might choose to dress like that. I thank god that the costume's ridiculousness was seen as comical.
After a long period of acclimating to Frankenfurterism, opening night of the show came. The fear was overwhelming, but after working on the part, I had to do it. My first entrance was spot lit, coming from the back of the auditorium in the style of a runway model, with "Sweet Transvestite" blasting out of the speakers. For the first three seconds, a stunned silence reigned over the audience, but then a wave of uproarious laughter burst forth, mixed with cheers and screaming the likes of which I had never heard. Apparently my costume had the desired effect.
The rest of the show went smoothly; I even garnered a few laughs, calling the two protagonists "juevos" and damning them to hell to suffer an eternity of hamstery pain. Once, my wig flew off in the middle of some crazed yelling; that was a hit. Despite some technical mishaps, the show was a success and, in a strange way, satisfying. It was a sort of rite of passage that cemented whatever respect I now hold with the people of play production. Like the football players donning cheerleader uniforms for snow bowl, becoming the 'sweet transvestite' for a few hours was the kind of thing I had to do once in my life just to say I did it, but will never do again.
