If We Were Villains

by M.L. Rio

I close my eyes, inhale deeply, and imagine the freshness of Illinois springtime, what it will be like to step outside after gasping on stale prison air for a third of my life.

Yikes

Alexander studied me with narrowed eyes, running his tongue across his teeth. “Probably as Octavius,” he decided. “They won’t make you Antony—no offense, but you’re just not conspicuous enough. It’ll be that insufferable third-year, what’s his name?” Filippa: “Richard the Second?” Richard: “Hilarious. No, Colin Hyland.”

That actually made me laugh. I hate Richard already.

Only half as talented as any of the rest of them, I seemed doomed to always play supporting roles in someone else’s story. Far too many times I had asked myself whether art was imitating life or if it was the other way around.

Bro same

One sin, I know, another doth provoke; Murder’s as near to lust as flame to smoke.

Pretty rhyme but let's parse this. "I wanna boink" =/= "I wanna stab you" so um no.

We, the fourth-year theatre students, lived on the far side of the lake in what was whimsically called the Castle (not really a castle, but a small stone building that happened to have one turret, originally the groundskeepers’ quarters).

Castle automatically gives goth vibes and I'm here for it.

a small courtyard and honeycomb of corbeled walkways wedged between them.

I do like this description but also note to self, wtf is "corbeled"??? Dictionary me

Just don’t shift your weight too much. You’re most interesting when you stand still.

Yeesh. Be still.

Some people saw me as Gwendolyn always cast me: simply the loyal sidekick.

Maybe that's what you are. If you didn't wanna be seen that way you wouldn't be so loyal?

For three years I enjoyed the overflow of his popularity and admired him intensely, without jealousy, even though he was Frederick’s obvious favorite in much the same way that Richard was Gwendolyn’s. Of course, James did not have Richard’s ego or temper and was liked by everyone, while Richard was hated and loved with equal ferocity.

Bro you're so in love with James just go for it.

Alexander said, with a wicked little smirk. “You’ll only have rehearsal half the week—you die in Act III.”

I call foreshadowing.

At the time, we liked our isolation.

Oh what changed?

Richard: “Seems fair, after last year.” Me: “I hate you.” Richard: “Hatred is the sincerest form of flattery.” Alexander: “That’s imitation, dickhead.”

LOL

She was brighter than the pale morning sun outside and almost painful to look at.

Nice

Gwendolyn’s teaching methods were merciless, and it wasn’t unusual for students to leave her class in tears.

Polite way of saying she's a b¡tch

“Now, who can tell me—what is our biggest impediment to good performance?” “Fear,” Wren said. It was one of Gwendolyn’s many mantras: On the stage, you must be fearless. “Yes. Fear of what?” “Vulnerability,” Richard said.

This hit home. Stop.

Filippa looked slightly nauseous;

*nauseated

James peered up at Meredith with keen, evaluative interest, as if she were a statue, a sculpture, something shaped a thousand years ago in the likeness of a pagan deity.

Wonderful phrasing

Meredick

lmfao

He twinkled down at us like a bookish little Santa Claus.

Cute

“Fourth year. The year of the tragedy,” Frederick said,

More foreshadowing

Drinking tea from mugs, we were often reminded, was like drinking fine wine from a Solo cup.)

I drink wine over ice in a Mason jar so I ain't here to judge how people get the drinky to the face-hole.

Me: “Fate versus agency.” James: “The tragic hero.” Richard: “The tragic villain.”

Fore.Shadow.Ing.

What is more important, that Caesar is assassinated or that he is assassinated by his intimate friends?”

Ope

I stole furtive glances at my classmates as they wrote and listened and occasionally posed questions, struck by how lucky I was to be among them.

But are you tho

Per aspera ad astra. I’d heard a variety of translations, but the one I liked best was Through the thorns, to the stars.

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet, or that's what I heard anyway.

Here you will make many friends, and perhaps a few enemies. Do not let the latter prospect frighten you—if you haven’t made any enemies in life, you’ve been living too safely.

I'm super excited at the prospect of living the rest of my life "too safely" as I've had quite enough with enemies doing me dirty tyvm

Make art, make mistakes, and have no regrets.

Neil Gaimen stump speech

We expect you to be dedicated. We expect you to be determined. We expect you to dazzle us. And we do not like to be disappointed.

Really? I'm paying you to deliver me a service, and I don't like to be disappointed either, so teach me well and it won't be an issue. Glad we had this little chat.

The future is wide and wild and full of promise, but it is precarious, too. Seize on every opportunity that comes your way and cling to it, lest it be washed back out to sea.

So much foreshadowing

“There is a tide in the affairs of men / Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune,” he said. “On such a full sea are we now afloat, / And we must take the current when it serves / Or lose our ventures. Ladies and gentlemen, never waste a moment.”

Carpe diem, got it, move along

I looked from him to Meredith to Richard’s empty chair, and couldn’t help feeling that the balance of power had somehow shifted.

Hmm. Second time you've mentioned power dynamics amongst your peers. Interesting. Or weird.

First semester of fourth year was devoted to hand-to-hand combat, second semester to swordplay.

this will not end well.

“It’s fine for Richard to look like the Hulk, but frankly you don’t have the metabolism for it. Keep your protein intake up and you’ll be lean and mean.”

nothing like comparison to brew jealousy. awesome.

James, who was the smallest of us boys—barely five ten, slim but not skinny. There was something almost catlike about him, a kind of primal agility.

bro, don't be weird

When Macbeth has his head chopped off, or Lavinia has her tongue cut out, or the conspirators bathe their hands in Caesar’s blood, it should affect you, whether you’re the victim, the aggressor, or only a bystander.

if violence does not make you feel A WAY, please seek help immediately.

Something was moving, working, in his mind—accompanied by a tightening at the corners of his jaw, a nervous twitch of his lower lip. James had never really been angry with me, to my knowledge.

oh you done SOMETHING because he is ready

A friend should bear his friend’s infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.”

womp womp

“That’s just perfect, now we can’t even stay mad. Seriously, fuck him.”

LOLOL

It never stood still until the morning of November the twenty-second, and it seems, to me at least, that it hasn’t really moved since then.)

“Oliver, you make every scene you’re in about the other people in it. You’re the nicest person and the most generous actor here, which is probably more important than talent anyway.”

what a lovely sentiment

Outside, a perfect autumn day had lit the trees around the lake aflame. The blaze of color—tawny orange, sulfurous yellow, arterial red—shimmered upside down on the surface of the water.

gorgeous!

Tragic hero: Caesar. Tragic villain: Cassius. Wishy-washy middleman: Brutus. I guess you could equate him with Banquo.

“Couldn’t you argue that Brutus’s tragic flaw is his insurmountable love of Rome?” I asked, looking across the table at James,

I looked at James too, but he didn't look back.

Actors are by nature volatile—alchemic creatures composed of incendiary elements, emotion and ego and envy. Heat them up, stir them together, and sometimes you get gold. Sometimes disaster.

excuses, excuses

“Well,” I said, “blood will have blood.” “Well, I plan never to get on your bad side.”

oof don't tell me

Sometime during the party, the storm had passed over. The sky was clear and quiet, stars peering curiously down at us from a wide dome of indigo. The water, too, was still, and I thought, what liars they are, the sky and the water. Still and calm and clear, like everything was fine.

love this phrasing

Dellecher was less an academic institution than a cult. When we first walked through those doors, we did so without knowing that we were now part of some strange fanatic religion where anything could be excused so long as it was offered at the altar of the Muses. Ritual madness, ecstasy, human sacrifice.

sounds a bit like dodging accountability, but as I'm still not clear on what actually happened, I'll allow it for now.

she makes that scene so real that I look at you offstage and I can’t decide if I want to kiss you or kill you.”

knowing a murder is not far off, I don't know whether to LOL or raise my eyebrows. bit of bolth?

I was quiet. Motionless. In my own estimation, pointless. A fuse with no fire and nothing to ignite.

why do I relate to this

My hands moved automatically, without my permission,

FALSE.