I recently attended a show that a friend of mine created and, along with a fantastic cast, executed brilliantly. I don’t get out to see stage, movie or concert productions as much as I probably should and I attribute it to the fact that my editor sucks the very life from my soul. I’m also convinced that he kills kittens in front of children as a method of relaxation.
I got together with my director friend several days after the show and he suggested that I join the troupe for a production that he’s been developing. Because my friend is incredibly talented, I was flattered. Because I am not, I asked if he was on drugs.
He believed that my previous experience in working public relations campaigns for "political figures" (pronounced: "Crazy people") would serve well for his latest production concept. He, apparently, isn’t aware of my former politico colleagues’ fate. For the record, I never worked on Fred Thompson’s campaign for President, but my friend did. I'll never let her live that one down. I DID almost accidentally run over Senator Thompson with my car: I proudly note that experience on my resume’ as a conversation starter. Incidentally, it seems that "Law and Order” should get its own network since it’s aired 500 times per day.
I agreed to attend a production meeting with the troupe to test the waters- By the way, production meetings seem to be an excuse for actors to drink and smoke. I immediately liked these people. Had someone brought chicken wings I would have probably married them.
Another thing that made quite an impression where actor-types are concerned is their acute self awareness and concern for their fellow cast members. At the outset of the meeting the director asked if anyone had been feeling an inexplicable wave of malaise this week. The entire room sighed a breath of agreement. THIS week? Try EVERY week. However, I felt it best not to share my troubles this early in the game, being the new kid and all. Because I’m a meticulous planner, and often in denial, I’m usually able to extend the "Getting to know me" grace period before people discover that I spend a large portion of life “in over my head.”
As the director shared his opening remarks and delivered a general production rundown, everyone in the troupe attentively clung to each word. I was trying to remember whether or not I set the DVR to tape the Red Sox game AND Anthony Bourdain. I also discreetly invited the cute actress next to me for a beach getaway this weekend.
Suddenly, a terribly animated actor burst through the front door in a frenetic tear, explaining that traffic had caused his tardiness. Actors are even dramatic when explaining everyday urgencies and pitfalls which plague the rest of us. My tardiness explanations to the boss are nowhere nearly as talented and award winning as that of this gentleman:
My Boss: You’re late.
Me: You are correct.
My Boss: Why?
Me: Seinfeld was on Regis this morning.
My Boss: That’s why you’re late??
Me: Of course not, Kim Kardashian was also on. Plus I stopped for an Irish Coffee…THAT’S why I’m late
I thought the actor’s tardiness incident was part of the show rehearsal and that perhaps I was the only person in the room who wasn’t in on it. I immediately stood and clapped. Judging from the look on my director friend’s face I sensed that this project was probably going to fully test our friendship.
It’s funny to watch stage actors at a production meeting. Many of them seem so detached from the occasion yet, on cue, the director can point a finger, as though it were some sort of "magic" wand and one of them will instantly belt out a show-stopping tune from Miss Saigon while working their Sudoku puzzle. Impressive! Whenever someone calls on me in a meeting environment I stare at them as though I’m an illegal alien in an ESL class. (Note to illegal aliens, and everyone in my neighborhood: That’s English As Second Language Class).
Feeling completely inadequate, I excused myself and went to the restroom…hoping that there might be a fire escape access window. I stumbled across a full rehearsal for another production taking place in the main theatre. I silently observed for a few moments when a light and sound person asked if I was lost. It probably comes as no surprise that I’m often asked this question and struggle with the correct contextual answer each time. Opting for the safest bet, I used broken English and answered in my best Swedish accent, telling the gentleman that I was a visiting director. I grew up as an only child, therefore was tasked with amusing myself much of the time.
I don’t know if I did a good job with the accent- I used the Swedish chef from the Muppets as my point of study- I DO enjoy eating Korv Stroganoff though, so I feel strongly that this increased my accent believability quotient greatly.
The light and sound guy began to ask many questions, prompting me to look for a quick escape from this situation before my friend became suspicious and set out to find me. So I executed a clever, yet logical, tactic for one to be excused from most awkward situations: I yelled FIRE!
30-minutes later, after everyone returned from the sidewalk to the building, I found myself back in a, now, very uncomfortable production meeting. I stared at my feet amidst deafening silence as everyone looked at me.
The meeting clipped along nicely as we reached the suggestion portion of our get together. I finally felt like a part of the troupe and it was an energizing feeling. The director asked if anyone had ideas or suggestions that might enhance the stage production. Everyone silently scanned the room, anticipating useful direction which might make a great show even better. I slowly raised my hand until I was called upon. I proudly recommended a high-speed car chase. My idea was politely declined.
The director then asked if anyone had upcoming schedule conflicts which might prevent them from attending the next rehearsal. I advised that I would be unavailable next weekend for a quick beach visit. The actress next to me announced that she, too, would be unavailable next weekend as she briefly glanced to me. SCORE!!! And, to my cheesy, nightclub scavenging, sex maniac guy friends: THAT is how it‘s done! This whole Broadway thing rocks!! I’ll be available for a book signing soon.
My director friend shot another suspicious look at me as I stared at my fingernails, pretending not to notice.
Before the meeting adjourned, the wardrobe guy brought out the costumes which would be used for the production. At this moment it occurred to me that I hadn’t asked enough questions before falling into this show. Apparently, this piece takes place in the distant future, which I knew in advance. Judging by the costumes, however, it takes place in an era where citizens are allergic to wearing clothes.
I received my costume and hoped that my expression didn’t appear as that of a man who had just witnessed his entire family be butchered by a group of South American cannibals.
Resolving to take the costume concerns up with my friend in private, I folded my costume and placed it in my wallet.
The production meeting concluded with everyone exchanging pleasantries and then they gossiped about other actors. I, on the other hand, pulled my director friend aside and asked if he might modify my role, downgrading it to a cameo. He quickly pointed out that theater isn’t presented as though it were adapted from Cliff’s Notes in miniature fashion. All evidence to the contrary where the costume department was concerned. I offered to loan him money for costumes if budget was a concern.
Another fascinating tid-bit that I learned about actors…they’re versatile. (With the exception of Keanu Reeves). My friend assumed the role of slick prosecuting attorney. And so, it appears that I will be wearing a piece of leather dental floss for a costume.
I may bring it with me for my trip to the beach next weekend.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2010
