When a Working Actor Isn't

It's been less than a month since Rosencrantz and Guildenstern closed, and I am sure I will never work again. This is the ongoing neurosis of the working actor when he is not working. That may seem like an oxymoron, but I do in fact consider myself a working actor, even when I am not working. For you see, when I am not working, I'm still working. I'm working on finding some work. Which, let me assure you, is work. When a working actor is actually working (that is, when a paycheck or other remuneration is involved), the day is pretty straightforward. You wake up, you prepare to go to work, then you go to work. But when a working actor is out of work, he is working very hard to find work. And I have always found that finding work is hard work.

The family has been traveling for a while, and I took the opportunity to return to DC for a bit, just in time for several local EPAs. That's a union acronym for Equity Principle Audition, which is the audition almost all union theatres are required to provide to the local union membership. Some theatres use these auditions to scout out new talent with which they may be unaware (it was, in fact, my attendance at an EPA at the North Carolina Stage Company which led to my recent gig), but many more theatre companies simply slog through the motions in order to fulfill their contractual obligation to the actors' union.

This time of year, the world is lousy with EPAs. Instead of returning immediately to the more sane environs of Asheville, I've decided to hang around DC for a little while and attend some of these general audition calls. On Monday I popped round to the Folger Shakespeare Library to wow them with my speech from Richard III. As usual with these kinds of big calls, the lobby was filled with non-union actors hoping for some no-shows in order to slip into the audition. I had an appointment, so waited only a few minutes before entering the audition chamber. The Folger's casting department, a lovely woman named Beth, has seen my auditions several times over the years, so there was no need for any upfront pleasantries. By coincidence, the gent right before me had also performed a speech from Richard III, playing the hunchback himself, in his most famous soliloquy ("Now is the winter of our discontent...blah blah blah"). My audition was a piece pulled from the Duke of Buckingham, a co-conspirator of R3's, and a role I played quite a while ago in South Carolina.

I have finally become accustomed to the habit most auditors who watch these auditions have, which is to spend more time looking down at your resume, or writing notes, or what-have-you, than actually watching your performance. The habit no longer throws me. This particular audition, however, introduced something new into the mix: a laptop. Instead of writing her notes in longhand, Beth was tapping them out into her computer. tap tap tap. Throughout my audition, tap tap tap. A pause for dramatic effect, tap tap tap. A slow build to the climax of the speech, tap tap tap. I can only hope she was tapping notes. Who knows, perhaps she was twittering...

My EPA last week, for the Granddaddy of Regional Theatres, Arena Stage, was a bit different. Arena has a relatively new caster, a terrifically enthusiastic young guy named Daniel, and he greeted me warmly (I think, but am not sure, that he has seen me in performance somewhere). These were musical auditions, and Arena has surprised everyone by placing The Fantasticks in their upcoming season. (I appeared in a college production Way Back When, and now I'm ripe to play one of those fathers.) I had a fun time singing a little snippet of a comic song, and had a nice chat with the accompanist, who is married to a buddy. This was a nice and pain-free audition.

There are several more EPAs currently scheduled in the DC area in the next week or two, so I'm hanging around to catch them. I'm even learning a new Shakespeare speech for an audition I don't yet have. How's that for optimism? When I'm in DC, popping up to New York is quite easy, and I've submitted myself to be seen by a regional theatre doing A Midsummer Night's Dream next season. I won't hear if I have the audition until right before the day, but I am forging ahead, learning a neat little speech by Peter Quince. Don't remember Peter Quince in Midsummer? It's definitely a supporting role, but I caught Kenneth Branagh playing the part years ago in Los Angeles and saw the potential in the role. I've never seen an actor playing Peter Quince swipe those mechanicals scenes from Bottom, but in that case, it happened. (Branagh's wife at the time, Emma Thompson, was a hoot as Helena.)

It never hurts to have plenty of Shakespeare at one's command, so I don't think learning a new piece will be in vain, even if this NY audition does not come through. I consider it part of my work, to try to be prepared for all contingencies. Sadly, this work, learning new pieces and attending general auditions, is unpaid. So I was pleased to learn that a film I appeared in several years ago had been sold to broadcast television, which has generated some unexpected income for all the actors involved. Today, I received this residual in the mail from Warner Brothers:

Thanks to John Waters's Pecker, I'm four dollars richer than yesterday.

Andy Hallett

1975-2009

Even if you are a fan of horror/mystery genre television, which I am not, you may not recognize this guy. At least not in his civvies. But all dolled up, there is nary a Buffy buff on the planet who does not know him, and is not disturbed by his death. He was a singer as well as actor, and had an unusual career-launching moment courtesy of Patti LaBelle, who yanked him up onstage to sing with her during a concert. He was spotted by Joss Whedon, creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, when he was appearing in a musical revue at Universal City in Los Angeles. (What Whedon was doing at the Universal Studios Theme Park is anybody's guess, but I love, and also hate, stories where Nobodies are plucked from obscurity by Somebodies who happen by.)

Whedon created the role of Lorne, initially called The Host, specifically for Hallett, in the Buffy spin-off Angel, where he appeared in 40 episodes as a recurring character before joining the over-the-title cast. By the time the series ended, he had appeared in 76 episodes and had created a character which was both comic (he ran a karaoke bar) and demonic (check out the horns and the Witchiepoo nose) and, let's be honest, a little bit gay. That gleam in his eye every time he leaned forward toward David Boreanaz can't be denied.

Hallett's post-Angel years were spent as a musician, and struggling with the heart disease which took his life last Sunday at age 33.

Maurice Jarre

1924-2009

"One could say my life itself has been one long soundtrack. Music was my life, music brought me to life, and music is how I will be remembered long after I leave this life. When I die there will be a final waltz playing in my head and that only I can hear."

Jarre's final waltz played yesterday.

He was a prolific film composer with a long and varied list of credits. Even some of his lesser accomplishments were well known, as he created the scores for Fatal Attraction, Is Paris Burning?, Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, Jacob's Ladder, and Ghost. He worked with a wide range of directors over the years, including Alfred Hitchcock (Topaz), Wolfgang Peterson (Enemy Mine), John Huston (The Man Who Would Be King), and Franco Zeffirelli, who pegged him to score his landmark television miniseries Jesus of Nazareth. He worked frequently and successfully with Peter Weir (Witness, Year of Living Dangerously, Dead Poets' Society) but he achieved award-winning acclaim working with David Lean. Jarre's Oscars were all awarded for Lean films: Lawrence of Arabia, Dr Zhivago, and The Passage to India.

It's a bit eerie that Jarre died this past weekend, while my thoughts were all on my mother and her death 26 years ago (I wrote about that in the previous entry). Jarre had a huge popular hit with his "Lara's Theme" from Dr Zhivago, which was probably my mother's favorite piece of film music. She rarely had the time to sit down and play the piano, but when she did, she usually played "Lara's Theme". Both my sisters played the song as well, much better than I ever did. I studied it the one year, in the third grade, in which I took piano lessons, and against all odds, a video was made of my efforts. So allow me to close this obit with my performance of "Lara's Theme: Somewhere My Love." (Oh, by the way, when I was a kid, I went by the name "Alexander")

My Mother's Day

Two years ago, I wrote a letter to my mother in these pages.

One year ago, I sadly reported a full quarter century without her.

A few months ago, when my mother would have turned 80 years old, I wrote about her music.

I wonder if I write too often about my mother?

Today is Mother's Day for me, as it is the 26th anniversary of her death. Sounds pretty gloomy, and it has its melancholy elements. But I know I'll spend most of the day remembering the good stuff. After 26 years, the very sharp pains of loss have dulled. I'll surely enjoy a large plate of what we call "Mama's Spaghetti", with homemade sauce which she occasionally served. The recipe is in her hand, and lives above my refrigerator. Naturally, I'll be dining on her china, given to her on her wedding to my father, way back when people did such things. The day will have some sadness, mixed with some regret, too, but that can't be helped. (And shouldn't be.)

If you still have your mother with you, don't wait 'till May 10, the official Mother's Day, to call. Give her a buzz today. You're very lucky.

Friday Dance Party: Mambo!

Stephen Sondheim must be having a pretty good week. He had a birthday (79! wow) and the major revival of his first Broadway show, West Side Story, got a nice nod from the NY Times. It's being directed by the show's librettist Arthur Laurents (in his 90s! Double wow), who adjusted some of the dialogue to be spoken in Spanish. Well, it makes sense that the Puerto Ricans at the heart of the story would not be speaking English when they are alone together. That aspect of the revival is getting mixed comments, most of them agreeing in principle, but noting that theatre-goers not already familiar with the story may be a bit lost. Are you kidding me? Who doesn't know West Side Story??


I bet Sondheim is pleased that one of his songs, "I Feel Pretty," is now being sung totally in Spanish. Perhaps the translated lyrics do not commit the same sins which Sondheim believes the original words do; he's complained for years that the song's lyrics are too sophisticated for a character such as Maria (a girl right off the boat from Puerto Rico would not be using interior rhyme). Relax, Steve, nobody cares. Instead, revel in the knowledge that a piece written a whopping 50 years ago still holds some interest. That interest has been maintained, at least partially, due to the hugely successful film version from 1961. West Side Story the movie is still considered one of the finest film adaptations of a stage musical, and was nominated for 11 Oscars. It won all but one, losing Best Adapted Screenplay to that other tunefest, Judgement at Nuremberg.



WSS is one of those chestnuts which I thoroughly admire and yet never had a desire to perform. I appeared in an abridged, one-hour version in college, as a directing project for my friend Judy, but would never have landed a role in a professional production (I had dark hair, so I was cast as one of the Puerto Ricans, pretty laughable, as I am the whitest guy anybody ever met). I suppose I could play poor Glad Hands now, the adult schnook who arranges the dance at the gym which gets the love story going. In the film, John Astin took the role, and gave no evidence that he could play that lothario Gomez Addams a few years later. Honestly, I don't know how he was able to stand at the sidelines, listening to this dynamic music by Leonard Bernstein, and fight the urge to join in.
Anyway, in honor of Sondheim's birthday, and the current revival of his first hit, and because George Chakiris looks so suave in his lavender shirt, and because I couldn't find any dance numbers in Judgement at Nuremberg (even with Judy Garland in the cast) please enjoy the Dance at the Gym. Sock Hops at my high school never looked like this...

Theatre Droppings: Gypsies, Extras, and Body Beautiful Beale

Before I left Asheville the other week, I finagled my way into seeing a tech rehearsal for the next project from North Carolina Stage Company, their remount of Stones in His Pockets (the show had a very short run this time, and has since closed). This piece has interested me since I saw a non-union production in DC, about which I wrote a while ago. It's two actors playing more than a score of characters, and is rather a tour-de-force for the actors involved. NCStage's artistic director Charles Flynn-McIver was paired with one of the leading actors in the region, Scott Treadway, and their chemistry was dynamic (they have clearly worked together often). My travel schedule prevented me from seeing one of their actual performances, and they were kind enough to allow me to watch one of their final dress rehearsals. From my chair, the show was a winner. I particularly enjoyed the Dance Sequence (I don't even remember the scene in the DC production), which utilized the actors' comic senses quite well, and they weren't bad tap-dancers, either. Most of the show was comedic, but a handful of moments brought real poignancy to the inhabitants of this small impoverished town in Ireland, hosting a big-budget Hollywood movie crew. Since I'm spending so much of my time in the Asheville area these days, I am sure I'll catch Charlie and Scott in another adventure soon, either as an observer or, hopefully, as a co-conspirator...

I traveled a bit after closing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, and landed in DC in time to catch the National Touring production of A Chorus Line. I have very vivid memories of seeing the original cast of this landmark, just a few weeks after Joe Papp moved them uptown to Broadway, and a few months before they swept the Tonys in 1975. I've written about them in these pages. A grainy clip of that cast can be seen in one of my Friday Dance Parties, too.

Since seeing the original, many other productions of A Chorus Line have crossed my path, but I have resisted seeing the show again. I studied the show, which is one of the few musicals to win the Pulitzer for Drama, a bit in grad school, as I wrote a term paper on its creator Michael Bennett, and have a huge respect for it. The piece did many innovative things, including adding the term "triple threat" to the theatrical vernacular. More importantly, it actually changed the way musicals are created and rehearsed. Bennett was the first to use an extended workshop period to create his show; until that time, musicals were fully written before rehearsals began, then began a preview period out of town where the authors refined the piece before bringing it into New York. Bennett changed that routine, and the workshop system has since become the traditional way to birth a new musical work.

Anyway, access to a free ticket to the National Tour stopping into DC convinced me it was time to revisit the show. I was pleased to find a hugely entertaining, dynamically staged production. That having been said, it was unfortunate that we had four, count 'em FOUR understudies handling leading roles. My previous experience with understudies has been very good; I have almost always found them to be extremely competent. In this case, two were quite good, two were...um...not so much. Ah, well, it was a Sunday night performance, the end of a very physical work week, so I guess I don't blame so many of the leading players for bailing. I was more surprised to discover the creakiness of the final minutes of the play. The dialogue surrounding "What I Did for Love," which became a show biz anthem of sorts back in the day, has not aged well, and the director did not improve things much with his stagy blocking. Nevertheless, the tour is a very fine one, with lots of pleasant surprises, and I am very glad I saw it.

Just a few days ago, I popped over to see a new play called After the Garden. It is actually a recreation of a nightclub act which Little Edie Beale performed for a week in New York in the late 70s. The Beales were an upper-crust family of the mid-20th century, and included in their number the Bouvier sisters, Jacqueline (later to be Kennedy-Onassis) and Lee (Radziwell). Little Edie was not one of the success stories of the clan; a documentary about her living conditions at the decrepit mansion on Long Island was released many years ago. Grey Gardens revealed an eccentric woman caring for her aged mother, and was alternately hilarious and pitiful. After the Garden was developed by the manager who arranged for Little Edie to appear in her own cabaret act soon after her mother died. It is a one-man show, and my old friend Jeffrey Johnson is swell in the role. The piece itself includes bits of confessional, bits of cabaret, and a whole lot of laughs. Every once in a while, though, it delivers a very poignant moment of this unlucky woman's life. The producing theatre is Ganymede Arts, a group dedicated to the GLBT experience, and they have converted the back storeroom of a gift shop into a quirky but functional performance space. I saw the show with the gayest audience since last year's Tony awards, which added to the merriment (like other underdogs, Little Edie Beale has become a bit of a gay icon). I have a hunch more will be heard from this new play, and am certain this new performance space has a future as well. As for Jeff's performance, well, I've been his fan since our South Carolina days in the early 90s, and he has yet to give less than 1000 percent in any performance I have seen.

'sNewz

...an occasional series mentioning current events which lately held my interest...

Once again my inbox is full of items which are beginning to creak with age, so please forgive the fact that most of them are beyond their "sell by" date...

Apparently, authority figures around the world are discovering the disciplinary powers of Barry Manilow. A while back I wrote about the judge in Colorado who sentenced some juvenile delinquents to listen to an hour of Manilow's music as punishment. More recently, a mall in New Zealand, a nation known for its pacifist tendencies, was having problems with teen-agers loitering and causing trouble. (This has always been a confusion to me, the fact that teens love to gather at the mall just to hang around. Perhaps I am prejudiced against malls, as I worked in one for [get this] FIFTEEN YEARS, and cannot abide such places now. Why anyone would think going to one would be FUN and SOCIAL is beyond me...) These New Zealand teens have been spraying graffiti, tossing trash, and otherwise wreaking havoc. The mall owners plan to solve the problem by piping in Barry Manilow music, to discourage the youngsters from spending time there. Poor Barry; apparently, he writes the songs that make the whole world cringe..

Here's another tale that is old news, but worth repeating. Censorship remains alive and well in our nation's public schools. The rock musical Rent has been released for amateur production, and a school in California's Orange County (a region notorious for its right-wing attitudes) planned a production. The principal banned the show without reading the script, after having heard it deals with prostitution, homosexuality, and AIDS. She recently rescinded her ban, and the show will go on next month. Her about-face may have something to do with the lawsuit which the California ACLU slapped on the school and its officials. They are not concerned with the Rent production, per se, but with the rampant bullying of gay students. A female student involved in the Rent production received threats of death and rape, and the administration has done little to counter sexist and homophobic behaviour in the school. Security officers even cracked down on a grass-roots effort on the part of the students to signal their support of the Rent production by wearing rainbow-colored buttons; the buttons were confiscated. It was only after the ACLU filed suit in Superior Court that the production was reinstated.

No such luck for the school in Oregon which wanted to produce Steve Martin's Picasso at the Lapine Agile. A petition with 137 names was presented to the school board, who then halted rehearsals for the show, which the petition complained had "adult content." What? Martin himself offered to fund the production off-campus because he wanted to keep the show from "acquiring a reputation it does not deserve.” I'll say. The play's concept is a meeting between Einstein, Picasso, and Elvis, in a Parisian bar; for the life of me, I cannot imagine what the hell problem the parents had with the thing.

While the above items made me mad, the next two just made me sad. Did you hear that Milan Stitt died? I never would have known if my new buddy Hans had not mentioned it. His loss will be felt in the theatrical community. Don't know who Milan Stitt is? I hadn't heard of him either, but he had a strong impact on American Theatre for a while. He was a playwright (The Runner Stumbles; remember Dick van Dyke in the movie?) but was better known as a teacher, mentor, and dramaturg. He helped found the play development program at the Circle Rep in Manhattan, where he nurtured Bill C. Davis (Mass Appeal), Arthur Kopit (Wings), Paul Zindel (Effect of Gamma-Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds) and David Mamet, among others. I have a lot of respect for anyone who has the talent to help other talent emerge, so Stitt's influence will be missed.

And speaking of death, the theatre community continues to mourn Natasha Richardson. In Sunday's NY Times, Charles Isherwood writes admiringly of the special discipline of the stage actor, and cites the Redgraves as perfect examples of actors who always show up, and always do the work. He attributes such professionalism to the "dailyness" of stage acting, as opposed to the rather contrary, sloppy aspect of Hollywood fame.

It's a nice article, but I was much more moved when I read about last Thursday night. It was the night when all the lights on Broadway were dimmed for a minute, in tribute to their lost star. Broadway.com reported that, among the regular theatre-goers in Shubert Alley, there were some surprises. Members of Richardson's stage and real family had gathered to watch the tribute. Liam Neeson, who met and fell in love with Richardson while debuting on Broadway together in Anna Christie, was joined by Richardson’s sister, Joely, and her mother, Vanessa Redgrave, as they stood outside the Booth Theatre to see the Broadway community dim its marquees for one minute, a traditional honor saved for stage greats. Seen comforting Neeson with hugs and condolences were friends Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker, Ralph Fiennes (Richardson’s co-star in the movies Maid in Manhattan and The White Countess, and Neeson’s friend since the two co-starred in Schindler’s List), Laura Linney (who starred with Neeson in the 2002 Broadway revival of The Crucible), and Richardson's costars from the Cabaret revival, Ron Rifkin and John Benjamin Hickey. At 8pm, the lights of the theater district began to dim, theater by theater, and mourners, onlookers and passersby began to respectfully applaud, at times even shouting Richardson’s name.

As the lights returned, Neeson shielded his eyes with his cap, and ducked into a waiting car with his family.

That image makes me cry.