Incandescently | Dead Poets Society

Ten

"These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which, as they kiss, consume." William Shakespeare

"I cannot believe it is finally closing night," I comment to Neil as we add the finishing touches to our costumes, preparing ourselves for our final performance as Romeo and Juliet. The previous four performances went incredibly well, and the audience seemed to be enraptured at each one. This one, however, feels the most important performance, and not just for it being the final one. Per the request of both myself and Neil, Father and the Dead Poets were only allowed to attend the final performance, as we knew we'd have definitively perfected our acting for that one.

"Neither can I," Neil responds excitedly, as he pats on a final application of powder, locking his base makeup in, "I feel more nervous for this one though, just as Mr. Keating and the guys are going to be in the audience." I agree with his statement in a mumbled voice, as I try my very best to line my eyes with the subtlest hint of black shadow. After that, I fill in my lips with a deep red lipstick that Mother had gifted me for a previous birthday, and then I turn to Neil, who looks at me with his signature kind smile. "Neil, I--"

"Neil, Elizabeth!" Our director calls, popping her head through our dressing room door, "It's almost time, starting places please." We both nod our heads and after a final check in our mirrors, we stand and go to head to the stage wings, but Neil stops me from moving by grabbing my hand. "What were you going to tell me?" He asks, smiling, and I do not have the heart to tell him in this moment, so I merely respond with, "I wanted to say break a leg." Satisfied, he beams at me as he reciprocates the message back to me, and we leave our dressing room for the wings.

I do not have to enter until the third scene of the first act, meaning that I get to watch and enjoy Neil's performance for most of the second scene, up until the point I have to prepare to enter the stage. After my first entrance, the rest of the play goes by in what feels like a handful of moments. Romeo and Juliet meeting for the first time, the balcony scene, the deaths of both Mercutio and Tybalt, Romeo's banishment and more. They all lead to the final scene: Romeo and Juliet's deaths.

Just before that scene, in a moment where neither of us are onstage, we find ourselves looking out at the audience through the wings. As we are gazing, I feel Neil tense up beside me and almost shrink backwards. "What is wrong?" I whisper to him, careful not to speak to loud as to disturb the actors who are on stage. His hand, shaking slightly, points out towards the back of the audience and when I follow his pointed finger, I spot his father at the back. In that moment, I realise that he never spoke to his father, and merely hoped that he would not turn up to a performance.

But before I can say anything, we both have to return to the stage in different ways. He must search for Juliet's tomb, whilst I must play that I am 'dead' inside said building, whilst really pretending under the charms of a potion. Soon enough, Neil is pretending to be dead in my tomb, and I am addressing the Friar after discovering that Romeo has taken his life through the use of poison.

"Go, get thee hence, for I will not away," I exclaim at the man playing the Friar, my voice cracking slightly due to my forced tears and sobs, portraying Juliet's broken emotions as best as I can. "What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand?" I look down at Neil, lying at the bottom of Juliet's resting podium and pretending to be dead, a small glass vial in his hand. "Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips. Haply some poison yet doth hang on them to make me die with a restorative."

I am quick to step off of my podium and I practically drop to my knees in front of Neil, before I anxiously lean forward and press my lips to his. I pull away, only to lean in again with further desperation, desperate to find any trace of poison on Romeo's lips. "Thy lips are warm," I sob, tears now free flowing down my cheeks as I pretend my heartbeat is rising in pace, panting gasps leaving my chest as I clutch onto Neil's hand. Then, I have to notice Romeo's dagger. "O happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die." In one swift movement, I plunge the prop dagger into my chest where my heart would be, and an oozing of fake blood emerges from the packet hidden beneath my white dress.