Your Lot in Life

I remember that my sister and I were in Wales when we overheard the news that Richard Burton had died.  Two women were chatting, bubbling out a stream of memories, remembering the great Welsh actor, his tumultuous life-long love affair with Elizabeth Burton, the many roles that he played on screen and in the theatre, and his incredible voice. Their conversation ended with an extended silence and an unintentional punchline.

"Fat lot of good, that'll do him now."

My family had gone to see Richard Burton play the role of King Arthur in Lerner & Loewe's Camelot, one of the Broadway musicals that re-opened the Golden Gate Theatre back in 1979.

Camelot tells the story of the mythic kingdom, a place built and shaken by a love triangle: Arthur of Pendragon, the young man who would be king meets Guinevere, the young woman who will become his queen, and they both befriend the handsome knight, Lancelot. Guinevere and Lancelot transgressions will break Arthur's heart and bring down the kingdom.  Still, the musical ends on an upbeat note and a hopeful promise. As long as the story is told, Camelot would live on. The optimistic ending offered comfort to the musical theatre-going audiences of the 60's, including a President who was to be forever associated with the magical kingdom.

After President John F. Kennedy's death, Mrs. Kennedy was interviewed by journalist Theodore H. White, for the Life essay, "For President Kennedy: An Epilogue." Mrs. Kennedy was the one who first linked the story to her husband, "there's this one thing I wanted to say. I'm so ashamed of myself. Jack . . . everything he ever quoted was Greek or Roman . . . no, don't protect me now . . . one thought kept going though my mind -- the line from a musical comedy. 

"I kept saying to Bobby, I've got to talk to somebody, I've got to see somebody. I want to say this one thing. It's been almost an obsession with me. This line from the musical comedy's been almost an obsession with me.

"At night before going to bed . . . we had an old Victrola. He'd play a couple of records. I'd get out of bed at night and play it for him when it was so cold getting out of bed. It was a song he loved. He loved 'Camelot.' It was the song he loved most at the end . . . 'don't let it be forgot that for one brief shining moment there was Camelot.' "

  

How thrilling to hear Burton's amazing voice in all of its shades.  In this interview with Dick Cavett, Richard Burton delivers the speech where Arthur tells Guinevere about the moment when he became king.  After failing twice, Arthur finally pulls the sword from the stone, and his destiny is set.

He also mentions how he became self-conscious every time he approached a particular scene in the show, after being showered with superlatives for speaking a single word. Even though he doesn't actually speak the word, that's a moment in Camelot that will be forever burned in my brain. The actor stood still on the stage, barely moving, and it was operatic. He lifted his voice out to the audience and raised goosebumps with his delivery of three letters.  

R       U       N

Later, he revealed that he was performing with tremendous pain and could barely lift his arm above his shoulder. Economy of movement was a necessity, but when that moment arrived, it was a master class in how to use the voice as a sword.

Years later, the young actress who played Guinevere, Christine Ebersole won a Tony Award for Leading Actress in a Musical for her “dual role of a lifetime” as Edith Beale and Little Edie Beale, the eccentric aunt and cousin of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, in Grey Gardens.

Ebersole also understands how to deliver intensity of feeling to an audience though stillness.

I imagine that she learned a lot from the voice that released the sword from the stone. 

Show after show after show after show...