B is for [Take a] Bow - by Nan Brooks

 

There is no accounting for what captures my imagination or my memory these days. Recently I’ve been pondering bows. Not the sort one ties on packages, but the kind one takes for an accomplishment, usually in public.  Bows are difficult.

Long ago, when I began doing one-woman theatre pieces, I felt awful taking a bow - like I was being greedy or arrogant or something.  A friend kindly and firmly pointed out to me that I was terrible at curtain calls. “You are rude to your audience when you don’t happily acknowledge their applause, she said. “You just talked to us for almost an hour and this is our chance to express ourselves back to you. Try to look like you care, like you actually enjoy hearing us.” I was startled, even alarmed to realize that she was right. I was being rude, the opposite of what I felt. I felt humbled, and very much so. For a while, I had to fake taking a bow – smile and actually listen to the applause.  As time went on, I came to enjoy the curtain calls, after all.

One-person shows are not the result of one person’s work – it takes a team of experts and hard working ones at that, to get a show on the boards. So when I began doing solo performances, I demanded that the unseen artists and technicians take a bow with me. They resisted, they argued, they refused. I tried the philosophical approach: “As women (and we were all women), we  accustomed to other people taking credit for our work, we’re socialized to be self-effacing and not to seek public approval for our work”, I said, “So it is our responsibility to break that pattern for ourselves and our audiences.”  Everyone nodded. “So you are going to take the curtain call with me.” 

“Oh no, we’re not!” they answered, with a little profanity for good measure.

“Then I’m not going to do take a bow either,” I played my last card.  More discussion ensued and they promised to take a bow with me. When the time came, they stood in the wings and refused to move. I embarrassed them into coming onstage, where they were even more embarrassed. I explained to the audience that they had made the show happen and they deserved to be thanked. Thunderous applause!

I have made a study of bows: the full curtsey, the half curtsey, the chin-up forward bend, the hand-on-heart full forward bow, the arms wide non-bow bow.  Like any other body language, each one says something different. 

I once worked with a particularly rude actor who said out the side of his mouth as we were practicing the curtain call for a large-cast musical, “I never let them see the top of my head. Demeaning.” He was a proud, albeit highly insecure man, who bullied everyone around him. I was moved to tenderness toward him when he made such a remark. He unwittingly spoke about his own vulnerability. Somehow, exposing the top of his head the audience was inviting – what? – a sword?  It did not make sense at the time because we were on a stage at the base of a steep theater that surrounded the stage on three sides. The audience could see the top of his head throughout the show. But there was something about bowing before authority, or before one’s enemies, something sort of primal in his refusal to lower his chin as he bowed. At every performance he stared defiantly forward at the audience while bending at the waist.

The curtsey is an odd thing, reserved for royalty these days unless one has just performed a period piece and bows are directed to be in keeping with the play.  I had an exacting director almost thirty years ago who demanded such correctness at the end of a Moliere play. So there we were, the women in corsets and long full skirts and very low necklines, expected to execute the perfect curtsey. It goes like this: transfer your weight to the foot closest to the nearest person (usually a man as curtain calls generally go). This avoids injury to your bowing partner as the cursey continues. Point the opposite foot (furthest from one’s partner) directly in front, then sweep it in a broad outward circle all the way to the back of that supporting foot. While thus balanced, you might put a little weight on that sweeping foot. Bend your knees until you are almost to the floor and bow your head. Slowly count to three. Then stand smoothly and gracefully from that low squat, avoid catching your heel in your skirt or petticoats, and return to standing on both feet. Smile all the while; do not look worried. I should say that if one is fortunate, she has a male partner for such a bow because he can, if he is willing, help her maintain her balance and even haul her up out of that low squat.  I once did such a curtain call with a newly-broken tailbone and had the great good fortune to have kind men on each side of me. Everything went silent and gray for a few seconds as I stood up in a lot of pain, but the gents held me up and one of them said, “Hang on!” through his smile as he squeezed my hand.  Kindness gets us through every time.

We are all accustomed these days, I think, to the arms-wide non-bow bow of shared triumph. It is standard for politicians and mega stars, but most endearing when spontaneously performed by truly happy artists. Sometimes it happens before the performance/speech/concert even begins. The crowd cheers and the person walks onstage, arms high like a cheerleader making a wide V. This bow, usually before a very large crowd, says to me, “Aren’t we all wonderful and happy?”  The variation, with arms spread horizontally, tells me the performer wants to reach out and hug everyone in the audience all at once. I did it once and felt quite exposed, but that may have been because it was outdoors and a stiff breeze was blowing.

So, now that you have thought along with me about bowing technique and how hard it is sometimes to take credit and celebrate our accomplishments, I invite you to take a bow some time in the next 24 hours. Take a bow when you feed the dog and see what the dog does (if said canine notices despite the food, that is). Take a bow when you walk into your office, including via Zoom.  (This setting probably requires the modest hand-on-heart, lowered chin bow. You can show them the top of your head or not, your choice.)  Take a bow when you see yourself in the mirror first thing in the morning and/or after you brush your teeth. Extra bows for flossing. 

Give bowing a try and see how it feels. Take a bow – you deserve one several times a day, no doubt about it.