ACTOR SPOTLIGHT: TO BE UNDERSTOOD WITH SAMANTAH COCCO
Acting relies heavily on verbal communication to convey emotions, thoughts and intentions. We know that a playwright's language is sacred. How we use it - and the motivations we uncover, the diction we shape, the boldness of our choices - is what renders our performance authentic and comprehensible, even when language is heightened or abstract. But what happens when words the playwright gives us are few? When the text leaves space - vast, open space - for silence, stillness, and the body to speak instead?
In First Snow of Summer, my character's spoken language totals around 3 minutes, a sliver of time spread across about 70 minutes on stage. While her neurodivergence is not expressly defined, Peg demonstrates several patterns of differences: stimming (repetitive motions used for energy regulation and/or overstimulation), sensory seeking, special interests (SPINs), emotional intensity, and communication differences including situational mutism and eye contact and touch avoidance. She moves through the world differently - and beautifully, if we are willing to see it.
In the rehearsal room, we are intentional with our language about Peg and her individual lived experience. We don't describe her as nonverbal, because we know that Peg has and understands language. Peg is at times nonspeaking, indicating that she has words, but cannot or chooses not to speak them. We don't say low- or high-functioning. We instead describe Peg's patterns of difference without assigning value judgment. We ask questions, issue one another gentle corrections, and don't claim expertise or diagnostic authority. We don't speak in terms of deficit, but in terms of difference. We name and caution one another against the tired tropes: infantilization, the "magical other". Peg is not a problem to be solved. We recognize her assets: Peg is creative and artistic, honest and loyal, sensitive and empathic.
Spending the past three months with a toe dipped into the world of Peg has been a rare privilege. I approach Peg as part actor, part dramaturg - hours spent researching her patterns of difference, listening to neurodiverse voices, and taking props home to practice the intimate, silent choreography of her world. One day in rehearsal, I found myself overcome by a scene and couldn't explain exactly why to my castmates. Our assistant director hugged me and softly offered, "of course you are - it's clear how much you love [Peg]."
Most unexpectedly, I've begun to recognize myself in Peg - or, perhaps, how much of myself I have been avoiding. Through the lens of Peg, I have been working my way into greater compassion and understanding for my own neuro differences. My partner, who kindly dims overhead lights and patiently waits to chew until I've turned on background noise, can tell you that I'm prone to overstimulation by light, sound, temperature and touch. My castmates may tell you how I self-regulate - swaying gently or passing an object between my hands during notes, laying on the floor or with my knees to my chest, doodling and writing out quotes during read-throughs, finding anchors. My coworkers could describe my deep-dive tendencies, SPINs, and "rabbit holes" (see: aforementioned hours of research), and just about anyone close to me could speak to my struggles with emotional regulation and hyperempathy.
I have spent a lifetime trying to mask, self-soothe, medicate, cure. Like Peg, perhaps I've needed is to be understood.
Performing without words demands an honesty that cannot be faked. It asks the actor to reveal the quiet truths of a character and invites audiences into the most intimate corners of their world, stirring potent emotion. As actors, we move away from stereotypes by using our full selves—bodies, faces, voices, and choices—to challenge, illuminate, and engage. We play characters different from us, but sometimes we find ourselves closer to them than expected. In inhabiting Peg, I am coming to understand parts of myself I've long overlooked.
I hope to share Peg with the respect, nuance, and authenticity she deserves - in a way that honors her and that she might be proud to watch. And I hope that in sharing space with Peg, we are all reminded to move through the world with a bit more patience, empathy, and grace for those who speak, feel, and connect with the world in unfamiliar ways
