[Benjamin's performance is an imposing one. His physical presence exudes unyielding power, in a way that both works, given the role he's been cast in and the scene chosen, and also gives the impression that he is slightly brute forcing his way through the scene (the French, especially. Salieri and Sissi did the Lord's work but God bless him he didn't know a word of French before this).
But it's an honest, solid effort, and a relatively good one for where he started mere days ago. He has the expectation of Salieri's faith in him to live up to, of course - that's the main thrust behind his performance. But when the time arrives, he finds it soothing to imagine Lucy watching him from the audience, to imagine making her proud.
When he comes out for the curtain call, once again a teddy bear, he can almost imagine her jumping from her seat, clapping and tugging the arm of her neighbor to point at him and say 'That's my Benjamin!' and when he beams out, at the same people he's seen for the past week, a pang of longing hits him so strongly that when he rises from his bow his eyes are wet.
After the curtain call is done and the afterparty has commenced, he takes his well-earned cup of mead and a plate of food, and mingles happily with the others.]
That was a thrill, wasn't it. Lord, I'm still shaking.
[But as the initial adrenaline wears off, the longing that struck him at curtain call becomes harder and harder to ignore, and he retires to the edge of the party, content to nurse a fresh cup of mead and watch the others continue to mingle. His expression becomes bittersweet and distant, as his posture closes off slightly, lost in thought.]
for once having icons from the actual curtain call is relevant
But it's an honest, solid effort, and a relatively good one for where he started mere days ago. He has the expectation of Salieri's faith in him to live up to, of course - that's the main thrust behind his performance. But when the time arrives, he finds it soothing to imagine Lucy watching him from the audience, to imagine making her proud.
When he comes out for the curtain call, once again a teddy bear, he can almost imagine her jumping from her seat, clapping and tugging the arm of her neighbor to point at him and say 'That's my Benjamin!' and when he beams out, at the same people he's seen for the past week, a pang of longing hits him so strongly that when he rises from his bow his eyes are wet.
After the curtain call is done and the afterparty has commenced, he takes his well-earned cup of mead and a plate of food, and mingles happily with the others.]
That was a thrill, wasn't it. Lord, I'm still shaking.
[But as the initial adrenaline wears off, the longing that struck him at curtain call becomes harder and harder to ignore, and he retires to the edge of the party, content to nurse a fresh cup of mead and watch the others continue to mingle. His expression becomes bittersweet and distant, as his posture closes off slightly, lost in thought.]