Dear Thespis

If there are any civilians reading these pages, I should help you out a bit: who the hell is Thespis? Back in the mists of time, before drama was invented, religious ceremonies usually included some kind of choral chanting. A dude named Thespis, our theatre history profs tell us, was the first secular man (as opposed to a priest or king) to step out of this religious chorus and speak words on his own. He is considered the world's first actor, and though I don't believe he was ever officially deified (that is, classified a god by the Greeks), over the millennia, he has come to be a sort of guiding spirit for actors; after all, we are called thespians in his honor. OK, enough of the history lesson, let's get back to the important thing: my story.

Dear Thespis: Please oh please don't ever allow me to act like the jackass with whom I shared an audition appointment this afternoon. I was attending an audition at one of the area's largest and most prestigious theaters. It was late in the day, so when I arrived, only one actor was ahead of me. Let's call him "Actor," since I imagine he is one, as he is currently appearing at one of our smaller local theaters. He and I were seated at a table filling out an audition form when the director of the project in question, and his assistant, and his assistant (this theater is big enough that the director's assistant also has an assistant) popped out of the audition chamber to take a little break. Our Actor immediately launched into Full Self-Promotion Mode. He verbally assaulted this poor director with, "Daniel! (not his real name) Great to see you!" The director, who had only slipped out to grab a cup of coffee, was forced to respond with a generalized greeting: "Oh, hi! How are you?" Now this is where I started to feel my blood get hot. This actor proceded to inflict the director with a litany of self-aggrandizing statements, in the form of small talk. I couldn't help responding in my head.

Actor: "I've been so busy! I'm in a show right now!"
Me (in my head): "So am I, you twit. Let this guy get a cup of coffee without being hounded. No wonder actors have such bad reputations."

Actor: "I just did a matinee and raced over here to read for you!"
Me (in my head): "So did I, you jerk. Everybody came from somewhere."

Actor: "Our show's been extended!"
Me (in my head): "So has ours, you hack. The difference is, your show is in a theater which seats 150 people: My show is in a theater which seats 450 people: And our show is often full. Your show is never full. I am intimately acquainted with your theater, having worked there several times and having many close friends who are members of the company there. And while I don't equate money with artistic worth, I know for a fact that you are making only one-third of what I am making right now, and yet you are assaulting this director, who just wants a cup of coffee, with all this self-centered, self-important crap."

Don't get me wrong, Thespis. I have no problem with self-promotion, when it is at the proper time. If I am in the audition chamber, and the director asks me, "What are you doing now?", I have NO PROBLEM talking at length about the joys and occasional trials of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at Olney Theatre Center, or anything else I am working on. I'm all about me me me when the time and place are right. But the time is never right when the director is on a break, and the place is never right when it's in the waiting room. Thespis, I hope you will forgive this obvious dichotomy. I love my work. I love my current castmates. I love everybody in my dressing room and in the green room and onstage at Olney Theatre. I love so much about my chosen career.

But sometimes, I hate actors.

Friday Dance Party: Pass the Peace Pipe

The star of this week's Dance Party was never a household name, though perhaps she should have been. Joan McCracken was one of those firecrackers who had the tendency to steal every scene she was in, though she never achieved major celebrity. She studied dance as a kid, and spent a bit of time as a ballet dancer, but her short, stocky frame was not suitable for a career in ballet. She appeared in several Broadway hits in the 40s, including her debut in the original Oklahoma, in which she was billed as "Sylvie, the Girl Who Falls Down." She claimed that her backstage breakdown during the run of Bloomer Girl was the inspiration for a scene in Truman Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's. Joan was married for 7 years to Bob Fosse, before he hooked up with Gwen Verdon.

I only became aware of McCracken when I was researching the obit for this gent:

Hugh Martin

1914-2011

Martin was a well-respected vocal arranger on Broadway, fulfilling those duties for Dubarry Was a Lady, The Boys from Syracuse, Sugar Babies, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, and several others. His original compositions were heard in Best Foot Forward, High Spirits, and Look Ma! I'm Dancing!. He was nominated for four Tonys during his career, but it was his film work which provides his enduring legacy. Though he contributed songs to several musical films, his score to the 1944 Judy Garland movie Meet Me In St. Louis is now considered classic. For Judy, he provided two songs which became signature tunes for her, "The Boy Next Door" and "The Trolley Song" (Martin earned an Oscar nomination for the latter).

Even more impressively, Meet Me in St. Louis provided the world with an enduring Christmas song with "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." Hugh's original lyrics for the song were a bit dark ("Have yourself a merry little Christmas, it may be your last...") Garland complained about the tone of the tune, and under pressure from the star and from the film's director, Vincente Minnelli, Martin jollied up the lyrics. As a result, the song has become a holiday perennial.

Hugh frequently accompanied Garland when she sang live, specifically for her celebrated concerts at the Palace Theatre in New York in the early 50s, the first of her famous comebacks.
Martin's second Oscar nomination came for this week's Dance Party. He contributed this number to the 1947 musical film Good News. Despite it's political incorrectness, it's a fun song, and our star Joan McCracken displays a lot of spunk. I imagine she is equally perky throughout the movie, but I've never seen Good News in its entirety. Frankly, I avoid musicals starring Peter Lawford.

Joan McCracken died of diabetes back in 1961. Composer Hugh Martin died last week, at the age of 96.

"Well, Nobody Died"

Those were the first words out of the mouth of director David Hilder after our first stumble-through rehearsal of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Though that rehearsal happened many weeks ago, David's words have come back to me, to describe the past week of our run at Olney Theatre Center.

Last Sunday, we completed our ninth performance of the show in a period of five days. This is a pretty significant departure from the normal run of a musical at this theatre (or anywhere!). The contract under which Olney works calls for a maximum of 8 performances per week, to be given over a maximum 6 day period. Yes, we stage actors traditionally work 6 days per week, even in rehearsal. While you civilians enjoy a 40-hour work week, with two days off, stage actors endure a 48-hour work week with only one day off. But I don't complain. Much.

Several weeks ago, the management at Olney alerted the company that, during one week of our show's run, we would be performing 9 shows. Apparently (and this in unconfirmed by anybody), nine performances were inadvertently advertised during this week, and by the time somebody of import noticed, there were already too many tickets sold to all the shows to cancel one. So, Olney paid the actors the going overtime rate, and allowed all 9 shows to remain on the schedule.

We did these 9 shows, as I mentioned above, in only 5 days. That scheduling is completely at the discretion of the theatre, but it makes for a pretty intense 5 days (4 of which had both a matinee and evening performance).

I'm relaying this background for the sole purpose of expressing my admiration for, and pride in, my fellow company members. Joseph is a completely "sung-through" musical, which means, it's really an opera. There is no spoken dialogue, everything is sung to music. This puts some strain on the voice, and in addition, there is substantial dancing in our production. Luckily, our cast was up to the task of so many shows back to back (to back to back to back to back to back to back to back). There were no injuries during this intense period (injuries being a fairly common occurrence in a musical with a lot of physicality to it, just ask Spiderman), no illness running rampant among the company, no one missing a performance. Everybody here is a pro, and giving their all each and every performance.

Our audiences agree, and we are greeted with thunderous applause after, and during, each performance. We've been extended into April, which means there has been good word-of-mouth on the show, since we cannot claim the reviews helped us much. I think it was Noel Coward who claimed that, if you believe the good reviews, you have to believe the bad ones, too. I don't necessarily believe any reviews, but I do read them. It's unclear to me whether reviews affect the box office at Olney Theatre Center or not. Olney, MD, is a fairly rural community, and though it's sometimes called a DC suburb, I would submit that if there are horse farms in the area, it's not really a suburb. But anyway, who knows if folks in the area read the Washington Post, which is considered the "money review" by theatres downtown. The Post's critic was dissatisfied with David's directorial choices, and seems to have been in a grumpy mood the night he attended. We had a couple of very nice notices on online sites, and a recommendation from one other paper, and as far as I know, that's all the attention we have been paid by the press.

I guess the umpteenth revival of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat is not likely to generate the same excitement as the Edward Albee festival at Arena Stage, or the Wicked tour sweeping through town next summer. But I'm proud as hell to be involved with this show, and look forward to our final two weeks.

Friday Dance Party: Missing the Green

It seems impossible to miss St. Patrick's Day around here, but miss it I did. Or at least, I didn't do any celebrating, which is a bit unseemly, as I have at least a drop of Irish blood. I'm told I'm Scotch-Irish on my mother's side, which I think means we will drink Scotch, Whiskey, or anything in between.

And though I was surrounded by people all day yesterday, most of whom were very anxious to Party with the Green, I kept forgetting that it was in fact St Paddy's. Our production of Joseph... performed the first of several school matinees yesterday, at the unholy hour of 10:15 AM. For a sung-through musical (read: "pop opera"), that's a pretty tough time to Go Go Go Joe.
But our cast, despite much groaning, pulled off a great show, and the kids were highly enthusiastic. We had a whopping seven and a half hours before we were due back at the theatre, and I think my castmates spent the time planning their benders after the St. Pat's evening show. Here's a shot I swiped of four of my wives (I have six) in their green drag:

After the morning show, I darted over to BWI Airport to pick up my father and stepmother, who flew in from North Carolina to see the show last night. I was pretty surprised they took the time and effort to do so, but they had not seen my work in a couple of years, so I was pleased. We drove up to the Inner Harbor in Baltimore for lunch overlooking the water.


We had a lovely time until the sushi place next door started their outdoor entertainment: an Irish band. Sushi...Ireland...they go together hand in hand, don't they?

I checked my folks into their hotel, and myself too, as I was staying the night. We returned to Olney, but not before our unexpected detour to the employee entrance of the NSA headquarters. I took the wrong off-ramp and landed at the front gate, confronted by some severely bored security guards who nevertheless take their jobs very seriously. We were detained about 10 minutes while they checked my ID for outstanding warrants and, I suppose, whether I was on the "No-Fly" list. We finally got to the theatre, where my folks thoroughly enjoyed our Joseph. We adjourned to our Baltimore hotel, where we stopped into the bar to enjoy that most Irish of dishes, nachos. I had a beer, but it was not green.

Because I missed all the St Patrick's day hoopla, let's end it all up with a lovely rendition of the song just about everybody in the world thinks they can sing, but alas, can't. But these dudes can. A day late, wishing you the luck o' the Irish for this week's Dance Party (and aren't you glad this is not a clip of Riverdance?):

Nobody's Coming Up Roses

I have to confess I'm disappointed that Arthur Laurents has pulled the plug on the new film version of Gypsy. It was to star Barbra Streisand, and everyone agreed what a great career book-end such a performance would make with Babs's splashy film debut in Funny Girl. Apparently Streisand was serious enough about the project to drop thoughts of directing the film herself, recognizing that playing the role of Mama Rose (at her age, which is a bit long in the tooth for the part) would require so much effort that directing the thing as well would be out of the question.

All that thinking is moot now, as the project has been sunk by Laurents, and torpedoed by Stephen Sondheim. More on that in a mo'.

Lots of people out there were pretty sure that Streisand would fail as Mama Rose. That's entirely possible, but why not give her the chance to try? According to Laurents, he pulled the plug because Sondheim asked him why he wanted another film version of Gypsy. (Who WOULDN'T want one? The original film was a dismal failure, an example of a Hollywood star messing up a Broadway masterpiece; if you don't believe me, go to this Dance Party from years ago.) Sondheim convinced Laurents that, if another film was produced, it would somehow "define" the piece, hampering future productions of the musical. Nothing could be further from the truth. Chicago had a well-respected, Oscar-winning film version, yet the stage show is about to become the longest running revival of anything in Broadway history.

I don't believe there will EVER be a definitive version of Gypsy, because it is a masterpiece. Follow my thinking here. There are no definitive versions of masterpieces of the theatre. If a play or musical is a true masterpiece, it can withstand new interpretations. That is why Olivier, Gielgud, Burton, Kline, Jacobi, and Branagh can all succeed as Hamlet. The play is a masterpiece, and can withstand, and even invite, new examinations.

The reverse proves my point. If a play or musical is not a masterpiece, and let's be honest, most are not, there CAN be a definitive version. There can be one single production (or film) which is the best the piece can be. Streisand's Funny Girl is an excellent example of this. There has been no successful, high-profile revival of that show since Babs won the Oscar for it over 40 years ago. This is because the piece itself is not a masterpiece, and the film version is the best the show can ever be. There are many other illustrations of my point; two Katherine Hepburn projects come to mind. Kate won the Oscar for both The Lion in Winter and On Golden Pond, and I would submit that both performances were definitive. Neither of those texts is a masterpiece, so it was possible for Hepburn to create indelible performances in those pieces, performances which will never be equaled. (Neither will Henry Fonda's in On Golden Pond, come to think of it.) They are, in a word, definitive.

I believe Gypsy, as I said, is a real masterpiece, so there will never be a definitive performance. Just look at the roster of actresses who have had success playing the leading role; is there anyone more different than Tyne Daly and Bernadette Peters? Or Ethel Merman and Angela Lansbury? Or Bette Midler and Patti LuPone? Mama Rose is a masterpiece of theatrical writing, and as such, she is like Hamlet, Lear, Amanda Wingfield, Blanche DuBois, and George and Martha. They are masterful creations, and can be re-interpreted, re-invented, re-examined, and re-illustrated in any number of ways.

I wish Streisand had played other musical roles in her career. For an actress remembered primarily as a musical star, her resume is pretty pitiful in that area. She has only two Broadway appearances to her credit, including her debut in the underrated I Can Get It For You Wholesale, and of course, the Fanny Brice bio which launched her into the stratosphere. As I said, she was definitive as the lead in Funny Girl; her Dolly Levi was universally trashed (I think she was better than the critics reported, the problem was the huge age difference between Babs and her costar Walter Matthau. And the fact that they hated each others' guts). Her performance as Daisy Gamble in the minor musical On A Clear Day You Can See Forever will probably be entirely forgotten later this year, when the new, updated version of the show debuts in New York, in which her role has been altered to be played by a man. Her Yentl will always have its fans, as she was the single guiding force behind the project, but I never bought her masquerade as a boy. Her updated version of A Star is Born cannot hold a candle to the earlier Judy Garland film.
And that's the lot, the totality of Streisand's involvement in musicals of stage and screen.

There was talk many years ago of our Babs playing Mame for television (Cher was mentioned as her co-star! Mame is one of those well-regarded non-masterpieces whose definitive version was probably the original Broadway production starring Angela Lansbury, a performance which went unfilmed), and Evita was also discussed as a Streisand vehicle. Even while Glenn Close was barking her performance in Sunset Boulevard on Broadway and in L.A., there was talk that Streisand may play the musical Norma Desmond on film.

Nothing came of any of those possibilities, so I am one who is sorry that Arthur Laurents, who wrote the book for Gypsy, has decided Barbra Streisand playing Mama Rose is a bad idea. He has allowed himself to be persuaded by that passive-aggressive headcase Stephen Sondheim. Steve, you'll recall, is the lyricist for Gypsy, so he could very easily have pulled the plug on the new film himself. But rather than being blamed for robbing Streisand of one final musical icon to play, it looks like he has manipulated the 90-something Laurents to yank the rights instead. It's too bad, as Streisand could have been successful in the role. But not definitive.

3/21/11 update: Broadway.com reports that the Streisand "Gypsy" may be on again, with contracts being prepped, and with Laurents and Sondheim having a "strong say" in the choices of director, choreographer, screenwriter, and the casting of Herbie and the title role. Stay tuned.

Friday Dance Party: Secret Hand Shake

The inspiration for this week's Dance Party comes from the choreographer of our production of Joseph.... Wendy came up with a signature move which reappears in various forms throughout the show. The move is actually a series of gestures which evoke...well, I'm not sure what they evoke. But I am glad we have them, as these hand movements help tremendously when trying to recall the 125 or so colors which are mentioned in Joe's Coat. I doubt I could recite these colors without using the gestures, they are now so ingrained in the body.

This week's Dance Party is all about the hands as well. Suzanne Cleary and Peter Harding are Irish dancers of note who spent many years in troops such as Riverdance before breaking out on their own as Up And Over It. It's likely you may have seen the video below, as it's had over 3 million hits on YouTube since it was placed there in September of last year. The duo has since appeared on daytime talk shows, and have really hit the big time with their McDonalds commercial. They call their routines "Irish dance for the post-pop generation." I just call them fun as hell to watch. In honor of Wendy and her sign-language choreography which helps trigger the brain cells to come up with the correct color, enjoy: