They Die But They Don't Obits

It's been so many weeks since my last obituary tributes, the spirits are surely lined up from here to Purgatory. Now that I'm out of work (I mean, "between engagements"), I'll try to clean up the files. These people are out of work, too, since they're dead. These three spring to mind immediately, as they are all perfect examples of the kind of actor I admire: those who spent their careers in the trenches, working hard and often, but rarely if ever achieving the national spotlight. They are players in support.

Alice Playten

1947-2011

She was born Alice Plotkin which, back in the day, may have seemed an inappropriate surname, but in retrospect, she could have kept it. The name seems to fit the oddball characters she played. She had a long career on the New York stage, in comedic and musical roles. She was a replacement Baby Louise in the original production of Gypsy, then went on to create roles in two smash musicals. She was Horace Vandergelder's niece Ermengard in the original, iconic production of Hello, Dolly!, playing opposite such future luminaries as Charles Nelson Reilly, Eileen Brennan, Robert Morse, and of course, Carol Channing. She also created the role of Bet in the original Broadway production of Oliver, sharing duets with Georgia Brown and Jack Wild.

Her star never really took off, though she received glowing reviews, and a Tony nomination when, at the age of 20, she portrayed a maniacal teenager in the musical adaptation of The World of Henry Orient. The show, Henry, Sweet Henry, flopped, though Playten is seen to good advantage in this clip from the Ed Sullivan show. The NY Times called her a "toy Merman," and she continued to belt show tunes in more recent shows like Seussical and Caroline, or Change. She won two Obies for her frequent work off-Broadway, and she appeared on various TV shows, and in films (she wore heavy prosthetics to appear opposite Tim Curry in the sci-fi cult film, Legend).

Her diminutive frame and unusual, nasally voice were always welcome in children's programming.

But I will always remember her from this little commercial. It was part of an acclaimed advertising campaign by Alka Seltzer, a campaign which yielded several national catchphrases back in the 60s and 70s. Take a look at this howler, as Playten plays a newlywed, cooking for her new husband, played hilariously by Terry Kiser (who went on to become beloved as the corpse in the Weekend at Bernie's franchise).

Alice Playten died from pancreatic cancer on June 25, at the age of 63.

The soap world lost one of its most suave supervillains when this guy died on June 21:

Anthony Herrera

1944-2011

He spent some time on Search for Tomorrow, Loving, and The Young and the Restless, but Herrera will best be remembered as one of those supervillains who would not die. Until the show went off the air last year, the characters of As The World Turns could count on surprise visits from Herrera's James Stenbeck, who bedded women, sired children, and repeatedly returned from the dead, for a whopping 30 years on the soap. That's a feat worthy of remembrance, but Herrera's lasting legacy will have nothing to do with daytime drama. In 1997, he was diagnosed with mantle cell lymphoma, a rare and deadly cancer. He made medical history when he received a stem cell transplant and went into remission. Though the cancer was to recur (despite a bone marrow transplant from his brother), Herrera became a tireless advocate for stem cell research and treatment. He even wrote a book about it, "The Cancer Wars," and continued, to the end of his life, to be outspoken about the medical advantages of using stem cells to cure disease. He died in Buenos Aires at the age of 67.

I was truly saddened by the death of this supporting player:

Tom Aldredge

1928-2011

"His glower is a thing of beauty," wrote the NY Times reviewer, of Tom's performance in the original Broadway production of On Golden Pond. He was the first to play Norman Thayer, Jr., the role which would win Henry Fonda his only competitive Oscar. Aldredge made a career of playing cantankerous old men, earning a whopping 5 Tony nominations along the way. He spent decades with the New York Shakespeare Festival, playing Romeo and Juliet's Tybalt, Twelfth Night's Sir Andrew Aguecheek, King Lear's Fool, and the title role in Cymbeline. His experience with Shakespeare didn't stop there; he played the Bard himself for the TV special Henry Winkler Meets William Shakespeare, and won a Daytime Emmy.

He played fathers, or father figures, on The Sopranos, Damages, and Boardwalk Empire, and on stage, he scored as the father of a blinded Vietnam vet in Sticks and Bones. I will always remember his no-nonsense work as another stage father, the Mysterious Man in the original production of Into the Woods. Along with Chip Zien, he introduced the world to one of the simplest, yet achingly poignant, ballads in the Sondheim canon, "No More."

He played Elizabeth Taylor's husband in the notorious revival of The Little Foxes in 1981, in a production which also starred Maureen Stapleton and Dennis Christopher; the production broke box office records and earned Tony nominations, despite a critically panned performance by Taylor, in her stage debut. In addition to Sticks and Bones and The Little Foxes, Tom received Tony nods for revivals of Where's Charlie? and Twentieth Century, as well as for the original production of Sondheim's Passion.


Aldredge's marriage to costume designer Theoni Aldredge was one of the most enduring in show business (I wrote a bit about that when she died last year), though they had no children. Tom was fond of telling the story of how he first got the bug to become an actor. As a pre-law student from Ohio, he was wandering around the alleys of Times Square on a visit to New York, and came upon two stage hands who were having a smoke behind a Broadway theatre. Aldredge asked if he could peek inside the grand house, but was given the surly answer to "buy a ticket." He did just that, spending $1.80, and took his seat, only to be surprised when the two stagehands, Marlon Brando and Karl Malden, walked out onstage to play A Streetcar Named Desire. Aldredge got the bug, and never looked back. He died last month at the age of 83.

Friday Dance Party: Summer Stock

I really shouldn't classify my recent gig in The Nerd as "summer stock," since it wasn't. Wayside Theatre operates pretty much year-round, though I imagine at some point in their 50 year history, they may have been classified as a summer stock theatre. But since my 7 weeks there coincided with the hottest, sweatiest summer on record, it surely felt like stock to me. Wayside's theatrical neighbors are true summer stock companies. Both Totem Pole Playhouse and Shenandoah Summer Music Theatre are in the same corner of the Shenandoah Valley as Wayside, and they both operate in true stock fashion: using a core company of actors (and adding jobbers as needed), they rehearse a show, open it, then begin rehearsal for the next show the day after opening night. That routine of rehearsing one show during the day, and performing a different show at night, is repeated all summer long. It's exhausting and exhilarating, and only the heartiest of stage actors can handle it.

Summer stock is not for sissies.

Even the cross-dressing John Kenley knew that. He ran one of the most successful summer stock touring circuits for decades, I wrote a bit about that when he died a couple of years ago.

This week's Dance Party celebrates the summer stock tradition with a clip from the 1950 film of the same name. Everybody knows a little about Summer Stock, the movie, mostly because of Judy Garland's troubles during its production. She was struggling with her habitual pharmaceutical dependency, and was overweight to boot. At least it was thought that she was overweight; she was certainly heavier than the public was used to, but I recently watched Summer Stock, and she looks exactly appropriate for a farm woman. But additional attention was brought to her weight when, after a two month hiatus during which she sought help from a hypnotist, she returned to film the most famous number in the movie, "Get Happy." She had lost over 15 pounds, appearing positively svelte in a tuxedo jacket and bare legs.

Summer Stock was a financial success, and Garland had begun work on her next movie (Royal Wedding) when her personal demons and her health issues once again interfered, and she was sacked. So, the clip below is from her final MGM musical. (BTW, this is not the first Dance Party which has featured a song from this classic. Go here to see a signature solo dance by Gene Kelly.) Nobody really cares about the plot of Summer Stock, but it should be noted that the film is misnamed. The musical-within-the-movie which is being produced in Judy's barn is not a true summer stock production. Like my recent production of The Nerd, it is a stand-alone show; just because it takes place during the summer, does not make it summer stock. But Judy, Gene, and I can be forgiven for considering our shows to be part of the summer stock tradition.

So, as a bit of a tribute to Ray and Thomasin and Rex and Wil and Carl and JJ and Steve and Mike and Rick and Robin and Susie and James and Karen and Tom and Hal and Cat and Warner and all my other cohorts who participated in some summer stock this season, enjoy this week's Dance Party. It begins as a country square dance, then morphs into a Lindy, finally becoming a dance-off and showcase for our two stars. Happy Dog Days of Summer, everybody!

Friday Dance Party: Dressing Room Demeanor

Actors with whom I share dressing rooms often are surprised that I become so subdued backstage, once rehearsals are over and performances begin. My natural ebullience (shut up) which is always on display during the rehearsal process seems to vanish once we move into the dressing room. This has always been the case with me; my body takes over, and though I don't do it consciously, my energy level plummets, and, in the dressing room, I appear to become depressed, quiet, and downright gloomy. This is my body saving adrenalin, I think; it has happened for years and years, and almost always garners comment from my fellow actors. Even back in grad school, this behaviour was commented upon by a director who was also appearing with me in a play: he became concerned that I was actually upset about something. Nope, it was just my body shutting down for a little while, in preparation for a resurgence of energy as soon as the curtain went up.

So, I am usually very quiet and isolated in the dressing room, much to the consternation of my roommates. I'm used to it by now, god knows. In about 100 shows over the years, I have had my own dressing room exactly three times. In grad school, I appeared in a one-man play called The Night Larry Kramer Kissed Me, so naturally, I was alone in the dressing room (which, as I recall, really wasn't a dressing room. We did the show in the school's lab theatre, and the dressing room doubled as the paint closet). The second and third times I had my own private dressing room coincided with the two productions of Vigil I performed about a decade ago. The show has only two performers, and as they are opposite sexes, we each had our own room.

Those were the only times when my quiet, reflective demeanor in the dressing room has not been commented upon by other actors. This is surely because most other actors are exactly the opposite in the dressing room. There is always loud, boisterous chatter among the actors, and sometimes much more. This week's Dance Party proves the point. It is a little different from other clips in this series, as I lifted it from somebody's facebook page, rather than from a film or TV show. It includes, coincidentally, an appearance by Bill Diggle, who directed the show which I will be closing tomorrow night, The Nerd at Wayside Theatre. Bill is an actor as well as director, and he works pretty steadily in the DC area. Here, he and his dressing roommates are having some fun making an exercise video with a twist. (Bill is the guy eating a hotdog.) The show for which these energetic guys are preparing is Sunset Blvd, which ran in DC over the holidays. I saw the show, among a host of others during the hols, and wrote about it here. I had no idea this kind of hijinks was going on backstage (I would never suggest it may explain the under-energized performance of the show I caught).


Honestly, I wish I could be one of these actors, who can have such goofy fun in the dressing room, then step out on stage and perform at their best. These guys certainly have more fun in the dressing room than I. And they look good doing it! So, with my apologies to the owner of the facebook page from which I lifted this clip (I don't remember who), please enjoy a Dressing Room Dance Party:

A Modest Suggestion: Buy This DVD

We're approaching the grand finale of The Nerd at Wayside Theatre, with tonight's performance to be followed by two tomorrow. Then, this wild ride will be over (and it has been one, believe me). I almost wish we had finished last night, as we had a very large and boisterous crowd, which seems essential for this piece. Thespis sent us an audience full of people who had been drinking heavily, and mixed in one or two gents with Asperger's. The performance was one for the books, and would have been a great one to take this play "up, over, and out," as my beloved acting coach Bobbi used to say.

But this weekend's stage ending should not overshadow my booming film career. And by booming, I mean the smart little indie flick I made last October. A Modest Suggestion is available, starting today, for purchase or online streaming! You can snag a copy at Createspace.com, here is the link. I have visited the site only for this purpose, and it seems to be a place where filmmakers can self-distribute their work. As far as I know, A Modest Suggestion has yet to be accepted into any of the film festivals to which it was offered, though I understand that a shorter, half-hour cut of the film has also been making the rounds (the full length film is only 70 minutes, but I guess somebody thought it still seemed to drag a bit?). Regardless, the movie is bypassing the need for a bigtime distribution deal. It is also available on Amazon.com, both for purchase and for streaming, if that's more your style. Here is the film's Amazon page.

I have seen the final cut, and am pretty proud of our work, which was created with an extremely low budget and under less-than-Hollywoodlike conditions. I have just checked the history of this blog, and discovered that I wrote a total of six entries about the making of A Modest Suggestion, and since I'm such a fascinating writer as well as human being, I'm sure you'll want to enjoy them at your leisure. Go here to find all six; they will come up in reverse chronological order, but if you scroll down, and read "from the bottom up," as it were, you'll get a fun look at the making of the film, from my audition onwards (or at least, my impressions of the making of the film, and that's all that counts, right?)

Haul out the popcorn, and enjoy some satire this weekend!

Friday Dance Party: I Like Lucy

...but I don't LOVE her, as (ahem) some people do. I certainly appreciate her expertise with physical comedy, and her signature TV programs speak for themselves. It is often said that Lucille Ball was one of the few comic actresses of her generation who could maintain her femininity while performing the most outrageous stunts. Well, I would hedge that statement a bit; I don't see a whole lot of femininity popping out when Lucy was stomping grapes or shoving chocolates down her blouse. But not to be a complete naysayer, she was certainly a glamorous star for so many decades that nothing contrary should be said about her these days.

Well, except for her dismal performance as Mame in the film musical of the same name. The powers who granted her that opportunity, and thus robbed posterity of Angela Lansbury's iconic portrayal, were rightfully skewered once the film was released; there is really almost nothing redeemable about Mame, even the bouncy score (Jerry Herman's best, I think) slowed to a crawl whenever Lucy was trying to sing. Ah, well.

Lucy's birthday is tomorrow, and I was planning to present a clip of that film failure, but I have reconsidered. I'm sure Mame will pop up here one of these weeks, it's too deliciously bad to ignore forever, but instead, here is a swell picture of Ball's earlier career, when she was bopping around Hollywood as a supporting player, trying to find her niche. We all know that niche very well, thanks to TV reruns, but we are not as familiar with some of her film work in those early years. She is certainly wearing her glamour and femininity well in this clip, from the 1940 film Dance, Girl, Dance. The movie did not receive much praise when it was released, but, in addition to Lucy, it had another great artist attached. Robert Wise, who was to win Oscars for directing West Side Story and The Sound of Music, was the editor of the film (he also edited Citizen Kane, so he knew what he was doing).

But back to our star. While I am not a slavish devotee, I have a hearty respect for Lucy's contribution to American comedy. Everything has already been said about her television endeavors (and I encourage you, if you have a mo', to check out this early Dance Party, which comes from the last incarnation of I Love Lucy. It may be the sweetest, and most melancholy, of the clips ever to appear in these pages, sung by Edie Adams in the last TV pairing of Lucy and Desi). Though Ball had the long legs and proper rhythm for a dancer, she was never much good as a vocalist, a fact which can be seen in this clip, which she speak/sings. But she's got the glamour, that's for sure, and her comic timing is never far away. Happy Birthday, Lucy.

Friday Dance Party: Dream A Little Dream in a Paper Bag

The anniversary of Cass Elliot's death is today, so she is the star of this week's Dance Party. As one of my favorite old-timers, she has graced these pages several times in the past, including one of the more bizarre clips in the history of this series. In fact, the very song which Elliot is singing below appeared here, in a very different context, last year, when I was reminiscing about the little British film, Beautiful Thing.

This particular tune is the biggest hit Cass had as a solo artist (in fact, though it is remembered as her breakout solo hit, the song was recorded with Elliot's group The Mamas and The Papas, with Cass singing the lead. As the release date neared for the single, the group was clearly falling apart, so ABC/Dunhill, the record company in question, gave Cass separate billing on the recording, a move which angered Papa John Phillips and which hastened the group's disintegration). Her rendition of this song, which was written way back in 1931 and recorded by Ozzie Nelson's band and everybody else under the sun, has become the definitive version. And it crosses my mind, and lips, during every performance of The Nerd, in which I have been appearing at Wayside Theatre.

There is a moment in this very silly comedy in which the characters play a parlor game dreamed up by the eponymous nerd. The rules involve shoes, socks, and paper bags, as you can see:

During the game, the contestants are required to stick their fingers in their ears, turn around in circles, and hum. This ain't Noel Coward, folks, but it gets its share of guffaws. The song which I inevitably hum under that paper bag is "Dream a Little Dream of Me." I have a hunch it does not rival the rendition below. We're still playing your music, Cass!

The Good Samaritan and the Unexpected Understudy

It was a pretty hectic two weeks, getting The Nerd up and running out at Wayside Theatre, more on that in a mo'. But I was very, very glad to pull up to my condo building late Sunday afternoon. After an awkward matinee that day (during which I knocked a full cup of drawing pencils off the table, dumping dozens of pencils onto the stage floor, gotta love live theatre), and a very hot 90 minute drive back to DC, I was ready to relax for a few days. 'Twas not to be.


Monday morning, as I was lazily preparing to head out into the heat to run some errands, my cell phone rang. A woman who does not know me, nor I her, was calling in a neighborly fashion, to alert me that a black bag had been delivered to her doorstep in the middle of the night. According to the label, the bag belonged to me.

I hurried downstairs with a sinking feeling which was justified as soon as I stepped outside. My car had been burgled in the night, the glove box had been ransacked, and my trunk emptied. Well, not completely emptied: the thief had left behind the skanky towels I use at the gym. But the black bag which contained my laptop was gone. I was feeling quite the fool as I walked around the corner to the neighbor's house to retrieve my empty bag. (Well, again, the bag was not completely empty: the thief had apparently been unimpressed with my 8x10 headshots, and had left them behind. Everybody's a critic.)

It was my own stupidity which made the Big Heist possible. My car was not broken into, I had apparently left it unlocked. And it was more stupidity which persuaded me my laptop would be safe overnight in the trunk. For several hours on Monday, I kicked myself for my oversight, even as I recognized the ridiculousness of the feelings. I, the victim, was feeling guilty, while the perp was happily walking around with my laptop. (And several dollars worth of quarters, which he had also snatched from the car. Even lowlifes have to feed the meters in DC.)

Such things happen regularly when living in urban settings, which is where I choose to live, so what the hell. I suppose I should feel lucky that the sleaze did not know how to start a car without a key, as I drive a Honda Civic, and I'm told they are prized on the hot car market.

I was feeling violated for a couple of hours, but it is amazing how a gig improves my mood, no matter what is going on. The Nerd is in full swing now, after a rocky final rehearsal period.

One of our actors took ill only a few days before our opening, and it was determined that he could not perform our first weekend. Wayside, like most theaters its size, cannot afford understudies, so our director stepped into the breach. Luckily, Bill Higgle is an actor as well as director, with strong comedic chops which he showed to great advantage during our two preview performances, and again opening night. After only two rehearsal days, he was able to bring a lively tempo and hysterical timing to the character, which is several decades too old for him, but nobody cared. Bill infused his time on stage with real drive, and his performance proved the pace necessary for his scenes to be truly funny. I had a great time with Bill onstage, and was sorry to see him return to DC, his home base, once his performance was no longer needed. The experience was another in a long line of "The Show Must Go On" stories which all actors cherish.

We have two more weeks of the show, afterwhich, who knows what's coming next?