Snowmageddon

The snow storm which dumped upwards of 30" on the DC area has been nicknamed "Snowmageddon" by President Obama, though I prefer "Snowpocolypse," but whatever. I have had an easier time than most, dealing with the inclement weather, as I really don't need to drive anywhere. I did do the "stocking up on supplies" thing on Thursday, the day before the storm hit. When I arrived at the Shoppers Food Warehouse, where I do such shopping, the place was so packed that there was not even a cart available (this branch has hundreds). I walked into the store, took one look at the lines at the checkout, and walked back out again. I drove instead to one of those Harris Teeters located in a parking garage (what's up with that trend?), where there were plenty of shopping carts and many fewer shoppers.

I think I have enough food to last until Easter. I settled in Friday night to enjoy the snow. I am by nature a hibernator, so being stranded in my condo for several days in a row held no fear for me. I was sorry to lose the rehearsals we had scheduled for the weekend; more on that in a mo'.




The storm affected just about every theatre in town, to one degree or another. My poor Wayside Theatre, which has been plagued with weather-related cancellations this winter, lost their weekend of The Buddy Holly Story, which is expected to be a big hit. But not if no one can get to the theatre. Closer to home, the Kennedy Center shut down for the whole weekend, releasing all those Shear Madness folks into the wild.


Even the mighty Shakespeare Theatre Company had to cancel several previews for their upcoming rep. I bet they tore their hair out over that; the Shakes hates cancelling performances for any reason. I am recalling the year I worked there, back in the late 90s, when a huge snow storm similar to this one shut down the city. We were in performance with Henry V, starring that fine classical actor Harry Hamlin, and the theatre was forced to cancel one single performance. Cleanup had barely begun when it was announced that Henry was back on the next night, the only theatre in town to reopen so quickly. Hamlin himself was dispatched to local radio stations to promote the show, and urge patrons to brave the weather and attend. We got wild applause as soon as the curtain rose that night, and the actors spontaneously applauded the audience in return. It was a memorable moment.



I seem to have digressed into Memoryland. It occurs to me that The Shakes is coincidentally previewing Henry V right now; I wonder if anyone at the theatre has noticed that when they do that play, weather wreaks havoc. I noticed that the theatre did not cancel Sunday night, with hugely discounted tickets (10 bucks for all seats! That's a savings of about 65 dollars) made available to try to paper the house.

Rehearsals all over town were affected by the storm, too. Those cannibals over at Signature Theatre in Shirlington planned ahead, and put all their cast and crew in a hotel for the weekend. They were in the midst of tech for Sweeney Todd, and if there is any show which cannot afford to lose tech rehearsals, Sweeney Todd is it. Their previews begin this week; I heard their final invited dress on Sunday was a success.




I haven't heard what the end result was over at Adventure Theatre in Echo Park, but they were also teching their show, scheduled to open this week as well. Someone said the theatre actually lost power, so absolutely no progress could be made there.



My buddy Steve Carpenter is also in tech, for Mauritius at Bay Theatre in Annapolis. Usually a large number of actors and techies live in DC, and the commute between the two cities was impossible for most of the weekend. The theatre announced yesterday that the show's opening night has been postponed.





Which brings me to my own show, Lord Arthur Savile's Crime at the Washington Stage Guild. We have lost three rehearsal days so far, but the greater loss has been a technical one. The company's new space, a charming spot attached to a Methodist church, was used for years by a community theatre. The Stage Guild has higher production standards, of course, so some pretty substantial improvements have been planned to make the theatre more appropriate for professional productions. Namely, a lighting grid and new floor were to be delivered and installed this weekend; that, as you can guess, did not happen due to the storm. After careful deliberation (hopefully over some Jameson's), our glorious leaders Ann and Bill decided that the show's opening should be postponed a week. These technical aspects must be handled, and there are question marks regarding when the large delivery trucks can use the city streets again. There are mountains of snow on every corner and lining every curb, making negotiating the streets very problematic.



For now, we wait, and hope that the dire predictions regarding the next storm, scheduled for tomorrow and possibly going to dump another 10-20 inches of snow, are exaggerated. Snowmageddon may have a sequel.

Ready to Rumble

In the typical "feast or famine" mode in which my life is lived, the past two weeks have been jam packed with activity. This following at least six months of relative slothfulness. Who's in charge of this stuff?


We have finished the first two weeks of rehearsal for Lord Arthur Savile's Crime at the Washington Stage Guild. I will surely be chronicling the journey from page to stage in future postings, but for now, I can report that the script seems to be a hoot, and the cast is up to the challenge of translating this Oscar Wilde story into the theatre. Our rehearsals have been cancelled this weekend due to the huge snow storm which hit DC yesterday, but my work was actually interrupted earlier in the week as well.


Monday and Tuesday, we presented our annual Equity auditions (I wrote a bit about them last year). I serve on the local AEA Liaison Committee which sponsors the event, and the past several years, I have assumed the responsibility of registering all the actors (close to 200), assigning them appointment slots, and then organizing them during the actual auditions. It's a fun job (or I wouldn't do it), but it takes its toll. Registration happened via email about three weeks ago; I spent the better part of two solid days at the computer, doing my best to accommodate special requests from actors regarding their appointments, fielding questions from non-union folks who confuse us with those other general auditions, and GENTLY suggesting to out-of-towners that they should stay off our turf and go to their own auditions instead (I am only marginally successful with that last one; we generally have a dozen or so schnooks who schlep all the way from New York or Chicago to audition for our theatres, most of whom cannot hire them anyway. We even had a gal fly in from Florida!).
During the auditions themselves, I serve as the point man for the actors, gathering them into their groups, giving orientation (which includes pleas for donations to keep our auditions solvent, hey, I'm not proud), and filling in extra slots with stand-bys. Here again, I enjoy the job, but after two long days, well, my dogs were barking pretty hard. We had a slightly lighter turnout than in previous years (around 10 fewer actors were seen this year than last), but we continued our proud tradition of getting every single actor who had the stamina to stick around an audition slot.

Naturally, I audition as well; I took a big chance this time around. I usually try to audition with a new piece each year, as many if not most of the auditors know me, or at least think they do. Last year, for example, I performed an Irish piece which garnered some praise (though failed to garner a gig). This year, I debated about even preparing an audition, as I had not run across anything which really excited me enough to present at the auditions. About a month ago, though, I hit upon something I thought would really stand out among the other 200 actron units. I decided to sing.

Now, a lot of actors include some singing in their auditions, there's nothing unusual in that. I, however, never have. I am certainly not nervous about singing, I do it all the time at auditions for individual theatres, but I have never sung at a large group audition such as this. But my decision to sing was not the dangerous part; my decision to ONLY sing was the chancy choice. Since I had no particular monologue I was crazy about, I decided to boldly go where I had never gone before (cue Star Trek music), and spend my entire 3 minutes of allotted time singing one song. This is hardly ever done at group auditions; even solid musical comedy performers who do not wish to present monologues always sing snippets of two songs; nobody ever does just one long tune.

(I subsequently learned that my current director and buddy Bill Largess did the same thing several years ago, but as far as I can tell, we are the only two actors who have tried such a thing at these generals.)

The song I chose was a tune Frank Loesser wrote for the great film clown Betty Hutton, for her film The Perils of Pauline. I have loved the song since I first saw the movie decades ago, but it is never done as an audition piece. And it is right up my alley, as it's really a comic monologue with a beginning, a middle, and an end, set to catchy boogie-woogie music.
I used to sing portions of the song at auditions, but finally gave it up when too many accompanists screwed up the playing. There are some odd repeats in the score, and the lyrics on the sheet music are largely incorrect. Once I decided I was doing the song, I visited the gal who had been hired by the Liaison Committee to accompany the auditions, and spent an hour in rehearsal. Mary Sugar is an excellent accompanist, and could have played the thing on site with no trouble, but it helped my confidence to rehearse in advance. She was free to mark the music to suit her own needs, and we ended up with a very serviceable sheet I can hopefully use elsewhere. I admit the hour was pricey, but worth it, as I entered the audition chamber with extra confidence.

The auditors who attend our auditions are generally a non-responsive bunch, which means I did not expect a whole lot of vocal reaction, and I was not disappointed. There were several loud laughs, and I could tell that the song landed as I expected, so I was pleased. I was congratulated by several attendees later on my choice (talk is cheap, give me a job).

If you asked me privately why I chose to sing one long song in lieu of performing a monologue at the auditions, I would have to confess this little secret. Don't tell anyone. I was glad others enjoyed the piece, but I actually aimed it squarely at two particular auditors, one whom I knew, and one whom I want to know. Both were representing theatres which have a solid musical role for me in their next season; I needed both to start to think of me as an actor who can sell a comic song.




I think I accomplished that, at least in one case. I received a callback a day later from the fabulous artistic director of a summer stock company, stay tuned on that score. In the other case, I think I will need to attend another general audition, this one at the particular theatre, before I might be considered for a role there. But I have planted the seed in this guy's mind, ready for me to feed it with my own brand of fertilizer at our next encounter.

Friday Dance Party: Don't Let 'em In!

It's been a very long, exhausting week, and I need a laugh. This week's Dance Party provides it. In fact, it's a scream.

Our star had a long career in radio and television, as an announcer and host. The list of game shows with which he was involved early in his career is quite lengthy, and he appears in the oldest episode of a quiz program preserved on kinescope, NBC's Party Line from 1947. Here's a fun fact: he taped the pilot to The Hollywood Squares, but was dumped in favor of Peter Marshall when the show went to series.

But of course, if you mention the name Bert Parks, everyone will think of the Miss America pageant. He was its congenial host for a quarter century, until he was sacked in 1979. The pageant was seeking a younger audience, and Parks's demographic skewed decidedly old. His dismissal caused a bit of a firestorm, with Johnny Carson leading the charge to get him reinstated. Parks was so identified with the pageant that his statue stands in front of the Atlantic City hotel which always hosted the event.

The effort to reinstate Bert failed, but I understand that Parks's iconic rendition of "Here She Comes, Miss America" is still played during the contest's final moments.

I never watched the pageant (yes, another gene I lack: I have never understood the fascination gay men have with beauty pageants). But anytime I have run across a clip of Bert Parks, he gives me the willies. Don't you find him a bit creepy? If not, you will in the following clip, which comes from the 1976 Miss America show. Paul McCartney should sue.

And I have to admit, it's the gayest clip to grace the Dance Party since its inception, including Prop 8 the Musical!

Bert Parks died from lung cancer eight years ago this week, at the age of 77.

"I Consider Myself Rather Condensed"

Zelda Rubinstein

1933-2010

An actress and human rights activist, she came to her entertainment career a bit late, after having worked for years as a lab technician. She is best known for her role as psychic Tangina in the 1982 horror flick Poltergeist, where her diminutive (4'3") stature and doughy face combined with a steely stare and little-girl voice to create an unforgettable impression. ("Would y'all mind hangin' back?" she drawls upon her entrance into the haunted house, "You're jammin' my frequencies.") After a series of hair-raising tactics to rid a suburban home of ghouls, she calmly proclaimed, "This house is clean." Luckily for her, she was wrong, as the film spawned two sequels; she appeared in both.

Her first film role was as one of the comic relief munchkins in the Chevy Chase monstrosity Under the Rainbow, which solidified her belief that little people were used more for comedic props than for their talent. She formed the Michael Dunn Memorial Theater Company especially for under-sized actors (the late Dunn was an actor who gained some fame as a recurring villain on TV's The Wild, Wild West, and who earned an Oscar nomination in 1965 for Ship of Fools).

Rubinstein's career stalled a bit in the mid-80s, when she became one of the first celebrities to join in the fight against AIDS. The epidemic was in full swing, and the only victims seemed to be gay men. Anyone living in Los Angeles who went to a club or watched a bus go by became aware of the print and video campaign in which she appeared as "Mother," urging all her sons to play safely. She later maintained that her involvement in the cause adversely affected her acting career.

Our Zelda popped up again in the early 90s, as a co-star of Picket Fences, a David Kelley TV series about a seemingly normal mid-western town where odd things often happened. Rubinstein, playing a police dispatcher, seemed a perfect fit for the scenario, but after a season or two, she was dropped to recurring status when the writers had trouble coming up with plotlines for her particular eccentricities. She eventually vanished from the show's canvas, though a later episode, starring composer Paul Williams as her brother, tied up her disappearance (her character fell into a deep freezer and, well, froze. Comic relief again.).

I am not a fan of horror films, or ghost films, or the like. But the original Poltergeist really spooked me, probably because, rather than taking place in a secluded house on a creepy hill, it took place next door. It was a relatively low-budget flick, with B and C list talent such as JoBeth Williams, Craig T. Nelson, and Beatrice Straight turning in steady performances. And of course, our Zelda helped the film to huge grosses (pun intended). If you are interested, here is a scene:

Zelda Rubinstein died this week from natural causes. She was 76.

Friday Dance Party: Dream Curly

James Mitchell

1920-2010

He was a soap opera stalwart, landing his first contract role on The Edge of Night in 1964. Later in the decade, he was the male lead in Where the Heart Is, a barely remembered CBS soap which ran four years or so. In 1979, he landed the role for which he is best remembered, Palmer Cortlandt, on All My Children, a part he played for 30 years. He received 7 Emmy nominations for his work on the show, winning none.
Before snagging that role, Mitchell had toyed with retiring from acting. He had a lengthy stage career, but as he aged, roles dried up, and his final big stage appearance, in the Broadway flop Mack and Mabel, caused him to return to school, where he earned an MFA and landed teaching gigs at Julliard and Yale.

But his earlier stage career is why this gent is on my radar. He came late to the ballet studio (in his twenties), so his traditional technique was lousy. But his masculine style so impressed choreographer Agnes de Mille that she hired him anyway, for Bloomer Girl in 1944. Their collaboration lasted 25 years, during which Mitchell became a leading interpreter of de Mille's work. She placed him in the starring dance role of Harry Beaton in Brigadoon, and often hired him as her assistant as well as a leading dancer. Mitchell always stated that it was his acting ability which attracted de Mille to him, never considering himself a true dancer. In fact, he played many non-dance roles in his career, including Marco the Magnificent in Carnival, and conceited choreographer Paul Byrd in the Fred Astaire classic, The Bandwagon. His final film role was as another choreographer, in 1977's The Turning Point, opposite Anne Bancroft.


Though he also danced for Jerome Robbins and Gower Champion, he was known principally for his close ties to Agnes de Mille. This week's Dance Party is only a brief illustration of his style, and the clip, I'll be honest, is not one of my favorites. It's from the film Oklahoma, and the sugary sweet performance of Shirley Jones makes my teeth ache (I've heard she's actually a salty lady, but that persona never made it on film in any of her movie musical roles). The sequence is capped with a dream ballet, a technique which was used occasionally back in the day when a choreographer wanted a leading character to dance, but the performer didn't have the skill. In these days of triple threats, it's just as likely to see the stars themselves dance this routine (Hugh Jackman performed his own ballet in his revival of Oklahoma a while back).


But way back when, stars such as Shirley Jones and Howard Keel were not expected to dance, so dream sequences took over. Here is part of the dream ballet from Oklahoma, with James Mitchell playing "Dream Curly."

James Mitchell died last week at the age of 89.

Time of "Hope" becomes Time of "Nope."

I live four blocks from the Capitol (yes, that Capitol), so it's very difficult to avoid lots and lots of political blather. But I do my best.

This year it's particularly hard. I am a Democrat (what are the odds of that?), and remain very disappointed in the party's performance. Others more qualified than I can examine and dissect all the monumental things which have gone wrong with the President's agenda, a matter which he will probably address in his first State of the Union Address tonight.

Health Care Reform seems dead in the water, which distresses me on the personal level. I don't know if the current bills would even have eased any of my difficulties, nobody can really explain all the details clearly to me. I am persuaded that Obama's sincere desire to allow the legislature to handle this gargantuan issue was naivete on his part. As has been pointed out by others, the guy should have come up with his own plan, then submitted it to congress for review and passage. Instead, well, everybody knows what happened next.


My health insurance ends in June, after which I'll have to come up with exorbitant COBRA payments until I re-qualify through my union's plan, a process which can sometimes take a year or more. I'd like another option, please.


Anyway, today, in the midst of a very busy week (rehearsals for my next project have begun, an important audition has reared its head, and there is still much prep to be done regarding the annual group audition I help run next week), I received the following alert from the District of Columbia.



Remember, I live four blocks from the Capitol.


Street Closures for President’s State of the Union Address.


(Washington, D.C.)


The United States Capitol Police have provided the following information regarding security restrictions for the President’s State of the Union Address on Wednesday, January 27, 2010.

The Capitol Square will be restricted to authorized pedestrians only beginning at 6 pm on January 27.

In addition, Capitol Police will be closing the following streets surrounding the Capitol on Wednesday at 7:30 pm until the event has concluded:

D Street between 2nd Street, NE & Louisiana Avenue, NW

C Street between 2nd Street, NE & Louisiana Avenue, NW

Constitution Avenue between 2nd Street, NE & Louisiana Avenue, NW

Delaware Avenue between Columbus Circle & Constitution Avenue, NE

New Jersey Avenue between Louisiana Avenue, NW & D Street, NW

Pennsylvania Avenue between 1st Street, NW & 3rd Street, NW

East Capitol Street between 2nd Street & 1st Street

1st Street between Columbus Circle, NE & C Street, SE

1st Street between Louisiana Avenue, NW and Washington Avenue, SW

Maryland Avenue between 1st Street, SW & 3rd Street, SW

Independence Avenue between 2nd Street, SE & Washington Avenue, SW

C Street between 1st Street, SE & Washington Avenue, SW

Delaware Avenue between Washington Avenue, SW & C Street, SW

New Jersey Avenue between Independence Avenue, SE & D Street, SE

South Capitol Street between Independence Avenue & D Street

Now I know that, constitutionally, the president must report on the state of the union annually to the public, via the legislature. But the habit of his coming to the Capitol is old fashioned, a tradition set back when there was no other way for his message to be presented. Why must he disrupt my very busy week with his visit to the Capitol, just to deliver a speech?

Hasn't this guy ever heard of Skype?

A Cowboy And A Doll

A couple of folks have died recently who, though better known for their screen work, were on my radar because of stage appearances late in their careers.

Jean Simmons

1929-2010

"Simmons is one of the most quietly commanding actresses Hollywood has ever trashed," wrote film critic Pauline Kael in 1960, regarding her performance in Elmer Gantry. At that point, Simmons was already in the waning portion of her career, a career which began in her teens, when she was plucked from her dance school recital in 1944, to play Margaret Lockwood's little sister in Give Us the Moon. She played a brat in David Lean's Great Expectations in 1946, a performance which brought her to the attention of Laurence Olivier (Simmons was to come full circle with Great Expectations 45 years later, when she played batty spinster Miss Havisham in a Disney remake). Olivier had trouble hiring Simmons, who was under contract to another producer at the time, and tested dozens of alternatives before finally prying our Jean out of her contract to play Ophelia opposite his own Hamlet. She snagged an Oscar nomination and landed on the covers of Time and Life. She was 19.

That pesky contract was purchased by Hollywood profligate and weirdo Howard Hughes, who had more on his mind than Jean's iambic pentameter. Though she had recently married Stewart Granger, a leading man 16 years her senior (Jean liked older men: her second husband was 17 years older than she), Hughes was blatant about his desire to bed the young actress. When she refused, he retaliated by putting her in a string of stinkers (he owned RKO at the time). Hughes further damaged Jean's career by refusing to allow her to appear in Roman Holiday, in a star-making role which then went to Audrey Hepburn, who won an Oscar.

Simmons had a substantial film career, playing both leading and supporting roles. She turned to television later in life, winning an Emmy for the mini-series The Thornbirds, and starring in the prime time Dark Shadows remake, playing the role film-noir siren Joan Bennett had played in the daytime soap version. She also turned to the stage, headlining the first national tour of A Little Night Music; she also played in the original London production. It was not her first musical role. Back in 1955, she played strait-laced Sarah Brown in Guys and Dolls, opposite that musical icon Marlon Brando. She did her own singing in the role (so did he! The film was not well-received); here is a clip featuring one of the better known songs from the show:

Jean Simmons died this week from lung cancer at the age of 80.

If you are old enough, you will recognise this guy:

If you are not quite so old, you may recognise this guy:

They are both the same guy. It's Pernell Roberts, who had a long career of ups and downs. He started his work on the stage, winning a Drama Desk award in 1955 for Macbeth, but became a star with a big break in the early 60s, playing the eldest Cartwright boy in Bonanza.
He left the hit show after six seasons, after clashing with producers over a variety of issues. He disliked the habit at the time of casting white actors in non-white roles (remember Marlo Thomas as a Chinese girl?), and wanted to discard his toupee, which network execs vehemently opposed.


After leaving the Ponderosa, Roberts continued guesting on various episodic programs, and returned to the musical stage, where he displayed a rich baritone voice (he did a fair amount of singing on Bonanza, too). He is really on my radar for his connection with the disastrous attempt to musicalize Gone With the Wind, in which he played Rhett Butler (I wrote a bit about this show when Harve Presnell died; Presnell played the role in London, while Roberts played it in the states, when the musical was called Scarlett). Pernell returned to weekly television in the title role of Trapper John, MD, playing a character originated by Elliott Gould in the movies and by Wayne Rogers in the earlier TV hit M*A*S*H. The show ran a healthy seven seasons, and introduced Gregory Harrison as a young doctor mentored by Pernell.

Roberts died this week from pancreatic cancer. He was 81.