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She flipped through, pausing at a sheet that stood out from the rest. Genevieve's character outline. Eden had practically memorised it before the audition, but now she studied it with fresh eyes. The legendary director's vision was clear in every carefully chosen word, painting a picture of a Beatrice who was ferocious, conflicted, deeply human.
Eden's fingers traced over a particular line:"Beatrice's anger is not a flaw to be overcome, but a strength to be harnessed."She felt a shiver run down her spine. This was the core of the character, the beating heart that she would need to bring to life.
As she read more, new ideas began to form. Connections she hadn't seen before, nuances she'd overlooked while battling her pre-audition nerves. This Beatrice was more than just a witty foil for Benedick. She was a woman raging against the constraints of her world, loving fiercely and fighting even harder for what she believed in.
Eden set the folder aside and stood, moving to the full-length mirror propped against her wardrobe. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and squared her shoulders. In her mind, she wasn't Eden Rowley, struggling actress. She was Beatrice.
"I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me," she recited, infusing the words with the perfect mix of humour and bitterness. She watched her reflection, noting how her eyes flashed. How her lips curled into a sardonic smile.
Eden tried another line, this time from a later scene of the original script. "O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the marketplace." Her voice trembled with rage, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.
Then, unable to maintain the intensity, Eden burst into giggles. She felt slightly foolish, play-acting in front of her mirror like she had as a young, naïve drama student. But beneath the embarrassment was a thrill of excitement. This was her job for the foreseeable future. She would get to dive deep into this character, to live in Beatrice's skin for months.
Still grinning, Eden moved to her bookshelf and pulled out a well-worn paperback. Alicia Pearson's "Beatrice." She'd devoured it in record time when preparing for the audition, but now leafed through the pages with slower consideration.
The book fell open to a dog-eared page, a passage Eden had read and re-read countless times: "Beatrice stood at the edge of the orchard, the sun setting behind her. In that moment, she felt the weight of every expectation, every restriction placed upon her by virtue of her sex. And she made a choice. She would not bend. She would not break. She would forge her own path, even if it meant walking alone."
Eden felt a lump form in her throat. This was the Beatrice she wanted to portray. Strong, defiant, but also vulnerable. A woman grappling with her place in a world that didn't know what to do with her.
She wondered how Genevieve would interpret these scenes. Would she emphasize Beatrice's isolation? Her anger? Her love? The possibilities seemed endless, and Eden found herself eager to delve into rehearsals, to see the notorious director's vision come to life.
Setting the book aside, Eden settled at her desk and opened her laptop. She hesitated for a moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Then, decisively, she typed: "Genevieve Howard early career."
The search results populated her screen, a mix of old theatre reviews, interviews, and articles. Eden clicked on one from a small theatre magazine, dated nearly two decades ago.
"Rising Star Genevieve Howard Shakes Up London Fringe Scene," the headline proclaimed. Eden leaned in, eager to learn more about the woman who would be shaping her performance for the next few months.
As she read, a picture began to form of a young Genevieve Howard, fresh out of drama school and already making waves. The article described her first independent production, an immersive rendition ofWaiting for Gadotthat had critics divided and audiences enthralled.
Eden found herself captivated by the description of Genevieve's bold choices and unapologetic vision. Even then, it seemed, she had been unafraid to challenge conventions and push boundaries.
Eden clicked on another article, this one detailing Genevieve's clash with a prominent theatre critic who had dismissed her work as "attention-seeking gimmickry." Genevieve's response, quoted in the piece, made Eden grin: "If seeking attention means demanding that voices long-dimmed be heard, then yes, I am seeking attention. And I will continue to do so, loudly and unashamedly, until the theatre world wakes up and realizes that the status quo is not good enough."
Eden felt a spark of admiration ignite in her chest. This was a woman who fought for her art, who refused to be cowed by tradition or expectation. To be chosen by her, to be entrusted with bringing her vision to life, was an honour Eden was only beginning to fully comprehend.
As she continued to read, Eden found herself drawn deeper into the story of Genevieve Howard's rise to prominence. Each article, each interview, painted a picture of a director who was as brilliant as she was uncompromising. And with every new piece of information, Eden felt her excitement – and her nerves – grow.
She clicked on another review from a small avant-garde theatre festival, her eyes widening as she read about Genevieve's reimagining ofOthello.The production had apparently featured a stark, minimalist set and had required the actors to perform in complete darkness for several key scenes.
"Howard's bold choices force the audience members to confront their own prejudices and expectations," the reviewer wrote. "By stripping away the visual spectacle, Howard lays bare the raw emotions at the heart of Shakespeare’s well-known text."
As Eden delved deeper into Genevieve's early career, she began to notice a pattern. Time and again, the young director had faced criticism and scepticism, only to prove her detractors wrong with the sheer force of her talent and vision. It was clear that Genevieve had fought hard for every opportunity, for every accolade.
Eden's admiration grew with each new discovery. She found herself imagining what it must have been like for Genevieve, navigating the male-dominated theatre world in her twenties. Standing firm in her convictions even as others tried to dismiss or belittle her work.
Eden’s search led her to an interview with an actor who had worked with Genevieve on one of her early productions. The man spoke glowingly of her unique directing style: "Genevieve has this incredible ability to see right to the heart of a character. She pushes you to dig deeper, to find layers you never knew existed. It's exhausting, and sometimes frustrating, but always rewarding. I've never given a performance I've been more proud of, than the one I gave under her direction."
Eden felt a mix of delight and trepidation as she read these words. She wanted that experience, wanted to be pushed to her limits and beyond. But a small voice in the back of her mind whispered doubts.What if I’m not good enough? What if I can’t live up to Genevieve's exacting standards?
Eden shook her head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts, and clicked on another video interview. This one showed a slightly older Genevieve, probably in her early thirties, her hair a shade darker than it was now, but her eyes just as intense.
The interviewer asked about her unconventional approach to classic plays and Genevieve leaned forward when she answered, her hands moving animatedly. "Theatre should provoke. It should challenge. If we're not making the audience think – if we're not making them feel – then what's the point?"
Eden found herself leaning closer to the screen, captivated by the passion in Genevieve's voice and the fire in her eyes. There was something magnetic about her presence, despite the grainy footage of the old interview.
She watched as Genevieve continued, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I'm not interested in putting on pretty productions that people can watch and then immediately forget. I want to create experiences that linger, that haunt the audience long after people have left the venue."
Eden felt something coil in her stomach, a warmth spreading up and into her chest. She told herself it was just excitement about the project, about working with such a visionary director. But a small part of her knew there was more to it than that.
