A Chilly Night at the Theater

As Samuel Pepys often said, “To the theatre….” and that’s where I was last night. And I have to write about it here so as to catalogue it, in its way, in a Pepys way, I guess, for the tremendous experience it was.

First a little self-disclosure: I’m going to gush about an actor, and I should make it known that I’ve seen his work for years and have loved it, and have had the pleasure of working with him—in fact, his work on my show was what made my work so good—and I like to call him a friend. So, I’m biased.

I’m also opinionated about things, so I hope in the end I’m being fair.

Also, I’d like to say, this isn’t a review. I just want to write about my experience.

So….”To the theatre….” I went last night. A Tuesday. It was pay-what-you-can night, a night usually attended by theatre-folk, and there were plenty in the house. There were plenty of civilians too. The place was absolutely packed.

Jeffrey Hatcher’s Compleat Female Stage Beauty is about the first female actresses in England (Margarat “Peg” Hughes and Nell Gwyn, the King’s girlfriend) and one of the last actors who was known for playing the women’s parts, Edward Kynaston. Walking Shadow’s production was just as I expected from the talented team that runs it and the talented people they have work for them on stage and off. The show was entertaining, enlightening, touching, funny, tragic and uplifting all while being beautiful to look at.

Yes, I’d say that’s about right.

So to keep from being a review, let me move on to what it was that struck me so powerfully last night.

There’s a moment in the play when Kynaston, whose career has been ended by the decree that women must play women’s parts, is auditioning for a theatre to play a man’s role. He begins a monologue, gets a few lines in and stops.

He starts over. He gets a few lines in, a bit further, and he stops.

His body, his mind, his voice…all the tools he’s used for years as an actor are suddenly betraying him. He finds his hands and arms making soft, woman-like gestures. He struggles with it, tries to control it. It controls him. It’s as if he suddenly doesn’t know how to act, and it’s the only thing he’s really ever known. He becomes lost.

The thing is, Wade Vaughn‘s work has always been incredible. He’s an extremely smart, hard-working and thorough actor. I’ve worked with few people who have his steadfast determination to find the truth. And Wade as Kynaston may be the best I’ve seen him. Watching that scene, I was enraptured by this man Kynaston, and because it’s how I watch actors act, I was even more enthralled by Wade. The depth, detail and wholeness with which he was working, his powerful focus, the layers of character that were coming to the forefront at that moment, were astounding.

I literally got chills watching him. It was that good.

Now…was it really that good? Was I just being pulled in to the play and the story and the characters? (I mean, after all it’s a play about theatre people, I’m bound to be interested.) Was I just proud and happy to see friends doing such good work, and Wade in particular?

Maybe.

Does it matter?

No.

It was effective. It worked. I felt deeply sorry for this character, who frankly otherwise had been, at times, an arrogant bully. But we felt for his human side, his pain, his struggle. In him we saw a moment that could be for any of us: If suddenly I discover that how I define myself can no longer exist, what happens to me? Who am I? What do I then do?

If finding layers of questions—more questions than answers, in a moment created by an actor on stage such as this—if that doesn’t make for good theatre, for good acting….then I don’t know what can. So I feel confident I wasn’t just in the right mood at the right time in the right place to be impressed. That was some amazing work.

I have some favorite moments I’ve experienced watching plays. I think that moment of Kynaston looking at his hands with wonder, fear and pain, will stick with me a long time.

Congratulations on the lovely work.

Compleat Female Stage Beauty continues at the Minneapolis Theatre Garage thru June 2.

Fun and French, in a Cold Read

I spent the past two nights getting together with large groups of actors and reading aloud a couple plays. It was an informal gathering put together to explore these scripts as possible candidates for production. We were all assigned multiple parts, had some drinks and snacks, sat in a circle and dug in.

The first night’s play included numerous dialects, some singing and some foreign language. (This was a cold read for most of us, so there was some foreign language faking going on.) Last night’s was much tamer in that regard.

The fun of it, of course, was the discovery and the challenge. Other than the title and the authors’ names, I wasn’t familiar with either script, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Cold readings can be difficult – having to make quick choices, on the spot, about intention, attitude, relationships, character, all only based on what’s in front of you at the moment, not knowing where anything’s going.

Some times that’s a good thing. Some times you choose incorrectly.

After the readings we discussed it all – what we liked, what we didn’t, how produce-able it might be, what kind of audience it might garner, whether it’s right for this company and their audience, etc….. Lots and lots of opinions were thrown out, but there was also much agreement, and good discussion within the group. The conversation was cordial, professional and productive. There were no egos, no arguments and nothing personal.

(I’m not surprised by any of that behavior, I’m only reminded that I see it so little elsewhere.)

I learned a couple things through this exercise.

I learned I can’t always think on my feet well enough to sound clear and smart at the same time in group discussions. (I feel I usually can, but these couple night’s challenged that notion.) Life might move too fast for me, and I like to consider and explore materials when reading them. Or perhaps my mind moves too quickly, jumping to ideas, and I inadvertently skim things I shouldn’t. Or maybe I’m not as bright as I think. No…that’s not it.

Also, I learned, or re-learned, that I have a pretty solid skill of doing some accents, and many I can just toss out, on the fly, without thinking about them. While this includes a few British, Irish, Italian, Russian, Chicago, New York, ranges of Southern US and perhaps a few others, it does not include French. I don’t know why, but I can’t just jump into a French accent unless I’m improvising dialogue. On night one I had to read a character with a “slight French accent” and I started trying one, but as soon as I heard it fluctuate to some Eastern European (probably to a country that no longer exists) I gave up. I couldn’t read and accent at the same time.

But mostly I learned that this kind of thing should happen more often. At any given time I probably know several dozen actors who could be available on a Tuesday night to get together to read a script. Even if people aren’t right for the part, it doesn’t matter. Hearing a script out loud is how scripts are supposed to be heard. Hearing actors put some life (even incomplete, or slightly off-the-mark-in-a-cold-reading life) into the playwright’s words is illuminating. And getting together to practice, discuss and enjoy the process isn’t so bad either.

Every time an opportunity like this comes up I wonder why it doesn’t happen more often. Perhaps it’s time it does.

11 Things about 2011

It’s the last day of the year. We’ve been inundated with lists lately, so…..here’s a list of 11 highlights of 2011 for me:

1. Street Scene: I was lucky enough to be a part of the (massive) ensemble that created a highly successful and beloved production of this Elmer Rice script. The cast included children and a dog and a couple dozen actors playing in an intimate (and, frankly, run down) theater. It was a huge show and we worked very hard to bring it together. Because of the the way in which we rehearsed, wherein many people watched other people’s scenes and we were mostly all there most of the time, we developed a great bond as a cast which went a long way to each of us individually, and collectively, owning this piece of theatre. I hope I’m lucky enough in 2012 to have a similar experience. I celebrated that show with several friends at the Ivey Awards where two statues were given out in relation to the production.
2. The 3-Cent Stamp: I wrote, directed and edited a 1-minute “commercial” for inclusion in a local theatre’s mock production of Fargo. I had a blast putting this together and want to do more of this stuff in 2012.
3. It’s not about the money: I got paid. Truthfully, it’s no one’s business but mine (and my agent’s) but a couple well paid gigs this year (primarily a single commercial) made 2011 one of the most profitable years for me as an actor. I’ve put it in savings for a rainy day. And while it’s never about money and there’s not a lot of it, especially in theatre, it’s nice to feel compensated for my time and talents.
4. Testing my skills: I jumped in to a production of a full-length play that didn’t have a full-length rehearsal, and it tested most everything I know about acting, building a character and, in some instances, how to be a nice guy at rehearsals and not get bitchy. Next time I’ll be more prepared.
5. Flexing my (imaginative) muscle: I once again joined a holiday show where in a single hour I had to play multiple characters, be funny, run my ass off and charm and ad lib a small group of strangers. And then do it all over again for the next group. And…once again for a third group. It was exhausting and exhilarating and fun, and made me enjoy performing.
6. Inspirations: I was inspired by many things I saw this year on local stages, and one piece of theatre that keeps sticking with me in my head is Moving Company’s Come Hell and High Water. A beautiful, epic (true) story, done in bold imaginative ways and with the utmost attention to the minutiae of the characters’ lives and details. Steve Epp is one of the best actors I’ve ever seen work. This whole thing made me want to be a better, bolder theatre artist. I was also inspired by the depth of work that goes in to the making of a Scream Blue Murmur piece. I was fortunate to spend some time with these great folks whom I admire so much, and learned a bit more about their process. They’re not messing around. We should all be so diligent.
7. The Silver Screen: I was twenty feet tall. The short film I shot last year was finished and had a sneak preview at the Twin Cities Film Festival. Seeing myself on the big screen was a bit surreal, especially since it focuses primarily on my character and I open and end the thing. It was exciting and makes me want to get to know the film community even better. (On a side note, the other day I discovered that the film is listed on IMDB, so subsequently I’m finally listed there too.)
8. Disappointments: I wasn’t cast in many things, including one or two that I really wanted. But that’s to be expected. In one case I was sort of relieved to not be cast (even though I was a bit surprised.) I know this is all vague but why go into great details…I’m not naming names. Let’s just say that I was invited to audition for a play I hadn’t heard of but in researching it found it to be incredibly challenging and exciting. Done, for lack of a better word, correctly it could be an amazing and powerful piece of theatre. What I witnessed in the auditions and callbacks, particularly from the director and the choices she was making, was that this was not a stellar opportunity and in fact could be a complete train wreck. I debated for days whether I’d take the role when offered. I decided I wouldn’t because the “good enough” and lackluster approach I witnessed was…well, I guess it was challenging to my own standards and beliefs. (See Creed if you need to know more.) Yes, this probably makes me sound pompous. Of course, they didn’t cast me anyway. I unfortunately wasn’t able to see the show either due to my own work schedule, so I’m not sure how big that wreck may have been. I’m confident I made (or would’ve made) the right choice. It’s disappointing though because I think done right it could’ve made a huge splash on the theatre scene.
9. 365 Images of 2011: I shot pictures. Lots and lot of pictures. I challenged myself to post a picture for each day (even if not posted every day.) I don’t think I’m going to make the goal, unless I take and choose another 30 or so in the next 5 hours. Nonetheless, I had fun doing it and found new and interesting images around me all the time. I think some even turned out to be good. I’ll probably add them here over the coming months.
10. Nook: I read. A lot. Although I haven’t written about it I received a Nook for my birthday, and have subsequently doubled the number of books I’ve read. I never thought I’d have the capacity to read more than one book at a time, and keep things clear in my head about each one, but now…it’s only a matter of the mood I’m in when I crawl in to bed at night (that sounds so wrong, but it’s when I do most of my book reading) and I’ll have two or three different books going at a time. Super Sad True Love Story may have been my favorite of the year.
11. What’s next: I imagined. I still have a small dream in the back of my head to make a film of The William Williams Effect. I know nothing about making a movie, truly, but I know some people who do. I’ve been thinking of taking a stab at putting together a film script version this winter. (Note to self: talk to co-writer.) Recently while driving through the rolling Iowa fields (strangely empty of snow for December) and listening to a Mumford and Sons album I was struck with some images of what the film might incorporate and how it might feel and flow. I think I’ll make it a longer term goal, but plan to find a project or two to write and shoot this coming year, as practice, as learning the craft of filmmaking, in preparation for what might come next with that story.