It seems I have spent a good many years saying things that inadvertently hurt people's feelings. Back in the day, it happened a lot more often. Mostly because I really didn't care. Here's a section from my play, Praying Small:
"Once something is said, once it passes the lips and mouth, once it spills out into the air like toxic waste in front of us...well, that's as permanent as it gets, folks. You can't go home again and you can't ever take nothin' back."
I guess as we get older it becomes more important to be on constant alert as to how our words are guaged and weighed by others. Now, strangely, I'm not talking about myself. Yesterday someone very dear to me was inadvertantly hurt by someone else's words. It bothered me all day and all night. Even though I wasn't (this time) the cause of this hurt, my empathy button was pushed and I obssessed over it a great deal.
The things we say, offhandedly or not, carry so much power, it seems. They are misunderstood or taken to heart or just plain given way too much importance. I sort of know how this works. On the recieving end, I mean. With critics. I can't really say too much about the nice things that have been written about me over the past three decades onstage...but I can quote, word for word, the bad things written about me.
Approval is a tricky thing. Regard is a tricky thing. It's all tied up in self-worth. And regardless what the Hallmark cards say, it is important what others think of us. Despite the American platitudes of self-confidence we hear from every money hungry, self-help, self-appointed guru that dodges and slithers his or her way through life on the way to the bank, gossip and malicious backroom talk hurts.
I grew up in a family that didn't give a whit about the awful, stinging, scathing words that were spit out all over my childhood house. As Sondheim so perfectly wrote, "Children will listen." Indeed. And adults. And they leave scars, sometimes tiny ones, nearly unseen, and sometimes large ones, gaping wounds we carry around in our id from day to day for years on end.
We can forgive sometimes, that's a gift from our better angels. But we can't forget. That's just being human. And when bad things are said about good people, it sticks in my craw. When I was in high school, the most significant time for develpment, I was a walking dichotomy of this. On the one hand, I think in many ways I was a bully. I had been so stripped of self-worth by a drunken family life that often times, quite unaware, I belittled others in a vain search for acceptance. I don't think this is terribly unusual. On the other hand, I was keenly, if not painfully, aware of someone's inability to defend themselves. Through sheer instinct I only picked on the pompous and arrogant. And I was never afraid of physical consequences. I had a fistfight almost every weekend, it seems. In those formative years, odd as it sounds to an adult, there is that element: fear for one's safety. That fear didn't exist for me so I wasn't the least bit afraid of verbally attacking someone twice my size. But I drew the line at the timid and the meek. Not only that I championed their cause. Attacking someone that didn't deserve it was always my pet peeve.
Anyway, the gist of this, I suppose, is to be nice. Be kind to one another. Be empathetic. Do unto others, and all that.
I have a few friends that truly inspire me in this regard. They never, under any circumstances, say something, even in private, that might hurt someone. I can't say that about myself, although I wish I could.
For the most part I really disdain religious services, especially Christian services. This from a lifetime of witnessing the jaw-dropping hypocracy from so many insincere Christian zealouts. But long ago I found myself in a Christian service and the pastor did something interesting. Upon entering the chapel, he gave everyone a white sheet of paper and a pen. He asked us, during the sermon, to draw a picture of the person we hated the most in our life. The person who causes us the most pain. The bully in our life. The boss. The landlord. The cop. The banker. The ex-wife or ex-husband. Then he pinned them all to a board and asked us all, one by one, to come up and throw a dart at the picture, get all our anger out, be done with it, leave it in that chapel, on that dart board, stuck on that person causing us pain. And when we had all done that and were all feeling in fine fettle, he peeled away all the pictures. One by one. And the last picture was of Jesus. And he had about 300 holes in his face. The pastor said simply, 'What you do to the least of me, you do to me.'
I think that's from Luke, but I'm not certain.
Anyway, I liked that service and I liked that message.
Let's be nice to one another out there.
See you tomorrow.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Plays and Chairs.
I recieved word that Sam French will be going forward with my play, Praying Small. For my non-theater, gentle readers, Sam French is the publishing house for plays and musicals. Delightful news. A little soft money never hurt anyone.
Plans, decisions and support for theGathering Theatre Company are exploding. Our Advisory Board is in place now (quite impressive, too, if I don't say so myself), our core ensemble is in place, our first public appearance (Sunday, November 7) scheduled and booked. It's all good.
I had the young Turks over for a reading of my play, Bachelor's Graveyard, this past Tuesday. Perfectly cast and very talented. Couldn't ask for a better cast. And remember, these four were whittled down from about 200 submissions. Again, it's all good.
Jim and I are meeting with our web advisor today. Looking forward to that.
And in other, and far more important, news, Angie and I are buying a new chair tomorrow. Yes, a new chair. This is the first the public is hearing of it. The chair has been selected. The date and time of the purchase confirmed. The chair is waiting patiently. All that remains is for us to actually, physically gather up the chair itself. It's a fine chair. The kind of chair to write home about. As chairs go, you might even call it the Michael Jordan of chairs. It's a chair's chair. The type of chair other chairs refer to when they talk about the all-time great chairs. I won't go into details about the chair, I'll let the countenance of the chair speak for itself. I will say this, however; this chair, if I were on a desert island, would be the chair I would pick.
See you tomorrow.
Plans, decisions and support for theGathering Theatre Company are exploding. Our Advisory Board is in place now (quite impressive, too, if I don't say so myself), our core ensemble is in place, our first public appearance (Sunday, November 7) scheduled and booked. It's all good.
I had the young Turks over for a reading of my play, Bachelor's Graveyard, this past Tuesday. Perfectly cast and very talented. Couldn't ask for a better cast. And remember, these four were whittled down from about 200 submissions. Again, it's all good.
Jim and I are meeting with our web advisor today. Looking forward to that.
And in other, and far more important, news, Angie and I are buying a new chair tomorrow. Yes, a new chair. This is the first the public is hearing of it. The chair has been selected. The date and time of the purchase confirmed. The chair is waiting patiently. All that remains is for us to actually, physically gather up the chair itself. It's a fine chair. The kind of chair to write home about. As chairs go, you might even call it the Michael Jordan of chairs. It's a chair's chair. The type of chair other chairs refer to when they talk about the all-time great chairs. I won't go into details about the chair, I'll let the countenance of the chair speak for itself. I will say this, however; this chair, if I were on a desert island, would be the chair I would pick.
See you tomorrow.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Bachelor's Graveyard Cast
The show is cast. A foursome of fearless, young, fine actors and, of course, the amazing Rob Arbogast. First read-thru here at the homestead tonight.
We've pushed one of the plays back to December because of scheduling problems (with both actors and the theater). So on November 7, we go up with a one-night-only, invited audience, reading of Bachelor's Graveyard. In December we go up with The Promise.
I agonized over casting. I am speechless at the number of really fine, talented young actors that auditioned for BG. But after careful and brain-wracking deliberations, we decided on the cast: Rob Arbogast in the lead role of Chip and four young, wonderful actors, Carmine Dibenedetto, Benjamin Burt, Adam Silver and Otniel Henig. All four of which have exactly the right look for the play.
So, for the moment anyway, all is right in theatre-land.
The public read will be an exclusive, invitation-only event. We've decided to start slow and exclusively.
See you tomorrow.
We've pushed one of the plays back to December because of scheduling problems (with both actors and the theater). So on November 7, we go up with a one-night-only, invited audience, reading of Bachelor's Graveyard. In December we go up with The Promise.
I agonized over casting. I am speechless at the number of really fine, talented young actors that auditioned for BG. But after careful and brain-wracking deliberations, we decided on the cast: Rob Arbogast in the lead role of Chip and four young, wonderful actors, Carmine Dibenedetto, Benjamin Burt, Adam Silver and Otniel Henig. All four of which have exactly the right look for the play.
So, for the moment anyway, all is right in theatre-land.
The public read will be an exclusive, invitation-only event. We've decided to start slow and exclusively.
See you tomorrow.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Callbacks: Where the Rubber Meets the Road.
So the auditions yesterday were quite successful. Jim, Larry (Larry Cedar, a fine actor and director at the helm of my new play, The Promise) and I saw a whole gaggle of very fine actors. We were especially delighted to see some of the extraordinary talent from the younger actors that came in...ah, to be 18 again. Some of those guys were on fire. I was terribly pleased.
Part of our strategy is to use the readings of the two, new plays as fundraisers in addition to gauging how they work in front of an audience. Personally, I'm looking forward to them. Especially Bachelor's Graveyard, which is a piece that, shall we say, has a lot of 'adult' content written into it.
The theatre itself, located in a stretch of Los Angeles called NoHo (North Hollywood, sort of the 'Chelsea' of LA), is perfect for our plans. It's small and clean and has great lighting and sound, a nice little lobby, dressing rooms, and an easily accessible location in a safe neighborhood.
I've called back 20 or so young actors to actually read from the script today. My good bud and whizbang of an actor, Rob Arbogast (for my readers who saw my play, Praying Small, they'll recognize Rob as the edge-of-ruin character of Roman) will be in today to read opposite all of the young actors. The play is a memory piece, the memories of a mid-forties man looking back on his halcyon and reckless final days as a teenager and the clear juxtaposition in age will be readily apparent as Rob and the other actors are seen side by side on stage.
After the all-day auditions yesterday, Angie and I had dinner with some old friends from our Missouri days, Brad and Nelia Southwick and our old friend and favorite photographer, Jerry Hinkle. I believe Jerry works for the A.P. these days and Brad is a busy producer out here in LA...he's done tons of films. Nelia, always one of my favorite people back in my college days, devotes a lot of her time to saving animals, cats, dogs, whatever, from inhumane shelters around Southern California. She has one of the most contageous smiles I've ever come across. Really terrific people, both of them.
So today we continue the auditions this afternoon and this morning is devoted to re-working Act II of The Promise. One of the problems with staging a new play is the unavoidable fact of having to actually WRITE the new play. Bachelor's Graveyard is ready to go. I'm very happy with every single line of it. But The Promise has some work to be done on it. The idea, the theme itself, is solid, but the words, ah the words, must be sharpened. As George Kauffman once said, "A play is never finished, only abandoned."
Yesterday, as I suspected, found Jim and I giggling all the way through the auditions. Not at the actors, of course, but at the ridiculous history we have together onstage. Neither of us could resist telling Larry, between auditions, about our days together in "outdoor drama," causing both of us to periodically dissolve into immobile laughter.
Angie kept things moving along smoothly and only occasionally reminded us to 'keep it short.' I think she's pretty much surrendered to the idea that Jimmy and I can't help but regress when we hang together. She's a remarkable human being (and not a bad wife, too).
But today the rubber meets the road. Today we see who actually has some chops. Sides (snippets from the scripts themselves) will be read aloud and that's an entirely different ballpark than watching a prepared, exquisitly planned monologue. Today we see who can or can't make 'choices.' And 'choices,' ultimately, is what it's all about in this silly, little game of acting.
See you tomorrow.
Part of our strategy is to use the readings of the two, new plays as fundraisers in addition to gauging how they work in front of an audience. Personally, I'm looking forward to them. Especially Bachelor's Graveyard, which is a piece that, shall we say, has a lot of 'adult' content written into it.
The theatre itself, located in a stretch of Los Angeles called NoHo (North Hollywood, sort of the 'Chelsea' of LA), is perfect for our plans. It's small and clean and has great lighting and sound, a nice little lobby, dressing rooms, and an easily accessible location in a safe neighborhood.
I've called back 20 or so young actors to actually read from the script today. My good bud and whizbang of an actor, Rob Arbogast (for my readers who saw my play, Praying Small, they'll recognize Rob as the edge-of-ruin character of Roman) will be in today to read opposite all of the young actors. The play is a memory piece, the memories of a mid-forties man looking back on his halcyon and reckless final days as a teenager and the clear juxtaposition in age will be readily apparent as Rob and the other actors are seen side by side on stage.
After the all-day auditions yesterday, Angie and I had dinner with some old friends from our Missouri days, Brad and Nelia Southwick and our old friend and favorite photographer, Jerry Hinkle. I believe Jerry works for the A.P. these days and Brad is a busy producer out here in LA...he's done tons of films. Nelia, always one of my favorite people back in my college days, devotes a lot of her time to saving animals, cats, dogs, whatever, from inhumane shelters around Southern California. She has one of the most contageous smiles I've ever come across. Really terrific people, both of them.
So today we continue the auditions this afternoon and this morning is devoted to re-working Act II of The Promise. One of the problems with staging a new play is the unavoidable fact of having to actually WRITE the new play. Bachelor's Graveyard is ready to go. I'm very happy with every single line of it. But The Promise has some work to be done on it. The idea, the theme itself, is solid, but the words, ah the words, must be sharpened. As George Kauffman once said, "A play is never finished, only abandoned."
Yesterday, as I suspected, found Jim and I giggling all the way through the auditions. Not at the actors, of course, but at the ridiculous history we have together onstage. Neither of us could resist telling Larry, between auditions, about our days together in "outdoor drama," causing both of us to periodically dissolve into immobile laughter.
Angie kept things moving along smoothly and only occasionally reminded us to 'keep it short.' I think she's pretty much surrendered to the idea that Jimmy and I can't help but regress when we hang together. She's a remarkable human being (and not a bad wife, too).
But today the rubber meets the road. Today we see who actually has some chops. Sides (snippets from the scripts themselves) will be read aloud and that's an entirely different ballpark than watching a prepared, exquisitly planned monologue. Today we see who can or can't make 'choices.' And 'choices,' ultimately, is what it's all about in this silly, little game of acting.
See you tomorrow.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Auditioning: the lesser of all evils.
The job of narrowing down over 300 submissions for theGathering, our new company, has been nerve-wracking. Generally speaking, after awhile, I just skipped all the TV and film credits on the resumes and looked for the theatre experience. And of course, looked to see if the actor was physically in the ball park of what we're seeking. Not surprisingly, the younger actors flooded the Actor's Access notice. Older, firmly established actors, are reluctant to submit to a non-paying gig. I know I am.
Having said that, I'm pretty happy with the 80 some actors we narrowed it down to. And I'm sure we'll have actors simply show up that didn't bother to confirm and we'll also have actors that did confirm and for one reason or another, not attend. Personally, I always try and confirm and if, at the last second, I can't make it, I'll reply again and say so. But again, for a non-paying gig, some probably won't even do that.
But that's okay. We'll make do.
There will the three of us in the room today; myself, Jim, and Larry Cedar (who's directing my newest play, The Promise). Angie has stepped up to the plate admirably and volunteered to keep the whole enterprise running smoothly. Which is good, because as a former casting director for over twenty years, she has more experience at this sort of thing than the rest of us combined. She is constantly reminding me, "No chit chat, just see them and move on. You can chit chat at the callbacks." She knows me well and she knows that I'll probably do everything possible to put the actors at ease including pleasant chit chat. As a casting director, she is used to whipping the actors out the door like a herd of lathered, wild horses.
Jimmy, computer wizard that he is, has made a remarkable, little booklet that will be in the lobby outlining our mission statement, advisory board and founding producing directors. There will be three of them in the lobby to be perused while actors are waiting to come in a do their thing. I saw it last night and it's just terrific.
I'm taking a small table in for us to have in front of us and a thermos full of Armenian coffee to keep me from zoning off after dozens of monologues. I've always maintained to my students that decisions are usually made about callbacks within the first ten seconds of entering the room anyway. But courtesy demands we give them at least a minute to do their thing.
In the audition notice there was one tricky fact we had to diplomatically navigate around: in Bachelor's Graveyard, personally my favorite play I've ever written, one character has to strip down to his undies in the final moments of the play. It is unavoidable to the plot. So I said that very clearly in the breakdowns for that character. I don't know if that helped or hindered the amount of submissions.
Both in NY and Chicago I've found myself on 'the other side of the table' many times. It is always an education and it has helped me in my own auditions throughout my career. The main thing I've learned is the people behind the table are unabashedly on the side of the actor. They WANT to be away. The WANT the actor to be brilliant. It makes their job a lot easier. And it has helped me a lot throughout the years knowing that. It keeps me from thinking of them as 'the enemy.'
I remember once, years ago, auditioning hundreds of actors for a couple of roles in a play called 'The Relative Importance of Jeri,' a really fine play by Jim Uhls, who later went on to write 'Fight Club.' My close friend and, not incidentally, the best director with whom I ever worked, Jeff Wood, and I were in the room with a couple of other people. I was just there as an advisor of sorts because my play, Golden Eggs, was also being mounted in tandem with Uhls' play. I think that was the first time I was ever on 'the other side of the table.' In any event, we saw some good people. Really good actors. We also saw some undeniable whack jobs. One guy started bouncing around like a gorilla at one point and threatened to leap on the table in front of us. In fact, I think Jeff even actually got up and moved back a step or two, much like David Letterman did years ago when that strange actor from 'Back to the Future' started doing karate kicks during the interview.
Another actress started simulating a very loud and realistic orgasm during her monologue. While kinda fun to watch, it was still a little disconcerting. Although it did command the conversation later that night at dinner as we flipped though all the resumes. That's the thing about sex scenes...whatever the actor or actress is doing in a sex scene, I've always thought, is a pretty good barometer of what they actually do in bed. I mean, they have to get their inspiration from somewhere, right? But I digress.
Another guy, I remember, did a really fine monologue for us, very smart, underplayed, intense, quite nice. And as he left the room said casually over his shoulder, "Fuck all of you."
So auditions can be enlightening. I still think they are the worst possible way to cast a play, yet there aren't really any alternatives. They are the lesser of all evils. Ideally, I'd like to see every single actor in a play, actually in front of an audience, under fire, in the midst of real combat, and make my decision that way. Of course, that's impossible. Another thing I've noticed over the years is that very often the reading you get in the room is exactly the same reading you'll get on opening night. And there's simply no way of predicting that. So I try to keep a keen eye out for actors that possibly don't audition well but indicate a hidden level of explosive talent. After all, Robert DeNiro was a notoriously bad auditioner. The stuff of lore. He is dyslexic and doesn't read well. And Brando simply came to audions early in his career and made up monologues on the spot. In one famous and often re-enacted audition for the lauded and snooty Lunts, he stared at the dark theatre for a long time and then finally said, "Hickory, Dickory Dock, the mouse ran up the clock. There are people fucking starving in India right now, you pricks." And walked off stage. He didn't get the role.
So I'm looking forward to the day. Undoubtedly we'll get some stories from it. My concern is, Jimmy and I have a terrible tendency to make each other laugh over the stupidist things. It's one reason we had so much trouble working together onstage long ago. We just start giggling over shit that only we find funny. So, I'll probably try not to look at him too much today during the proceedings.
Tomorrow we'll have the callbacks and the actors selected will be reading scenes from the plays. We'll give the sides as they leave the room to avoid having to make dozens of phone calls tonight. Also, Angie and I are having dinner with a group of Missouri friends tonight so I don't have time for that anyway.
One of my favorite audition stories. Guy comes in, gives his name, pauses importantly, finally starts: "I'll be playing Gloucester from Richard III...another solemn pause...NOW IS THE SUMMER...stops...pause...I'll come in again. Leaves the room, shuts the door and walks back in. Pause. I'll be playing Gloucester from Richard III...NOW IS THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT..."
See you tomorrow.
Having said that, I'm pretty happy with the 80 some actors we narrowed it down to. And I'm sure we'll have actors simply show up that didn't bother to confirm and we'll also have actors that did confirm and for one reason or another, not attend. Personally, I always try and confirm and if, at the last second, I can't make it, I'll reply again and say so. But again, for a non-paying gig, some probably won't even do that.
But that's okay. We'll make do.
There will the three of us in the room today; myself, Jim, and Larry Cedar (who's directing my newest play, The Promise). Angie has stepped up to the plate admirably and volunteered to keep the whole enterprise running smoothly. Which is good, because as a former casting director for over twenty years, she has more experience at this sort of thing than the rest of us combined. She is constantly reminding me, "No chit chat, just see them and move on. You can chit chat at the callbacks." She knows me well and she knows that I'll probably do everything possible to put the actors at ease including pleasant chit chat. As a casting director, she is used to whipping the actors out the door like a herd of lathered, wild horses.
Jimmy, computer wizard that he is, has made a remarkable, little booklet that will be in the lobby outlining our mission statement, advisory board and founding producing directors. There will be three of them in the lobby to be perused while actors are waiting to come in a do their thing. I saw it last night and it's just terrific.
I'm taking a small table in for us to have in front of us and a thermos full of Armenian coffee to keep me from zoning off after dozens of monologues. I've always maintained to my students that decisions are usually made about callbacks within the first ten seconds of entering the room anyway. But courtesy demands we give them at least a minute to do their thing.
In the audition notice there was one tricky fact we had to diplomatically navigate around: in Bachelor's Graveyard, personally my favorite play I've ever written, one character has to strip down to his undies in the final moments of the play. It is unavoidable to the plot. So I said that very clearly in the breakdowns for that character. I don't know if that helped or hindered the amount of submissions.
Both in NY and Chicago I've found myself on 'the other side of the table' many times. It is always an education and it has helped me in my own auditions throughout my career. The main thing I've learned is the people behind the table are unabashedly on the side of the actor. They WANT to be away. The WANT the actor to be brilliant. It makes their job a lot easier. And it has helped me a lot throughout the years knowing that. It keeps me from thinking of them as 'the enemy.'
I remember once, years ago, auditioning hundreds of actors for a couple of roles in a play called 'The Relative Importance of Jeri,' a really fine play by Jim Uhls, who later went on to write 'Fight Club.' My close friend and, not incidentally, the best director with whom I ever worked, Jeff Wood, and I were in the room with a couple of other people. I was just there as an advisor of sorts because my play, Golden Eggs, was also being mounted in tandem with Uhls' play. I think that was the first time I was ever on 'the other side of the table.' In any event, we saw some good people. Really good actors. We also saw some undeniable whack jobs. One guy started bouncing around like a gorilla at one point and threatened to leap on the table in front of us. In fact, I think Jeff even actually got up and moved back a step or two, much like David Letterman did years ago when that strange actor from 'Back to the Future' started doing karate kicks during the interview.
Another actress started simulating a very loud and realistic orgasm during her monologue. While kinda fun to watch, it was still a little disconcerting. Although it did command the conversation later that night at dinner as we flipped though all the resumes. That's the thing about sex scenes...whatever the actor or actress is doing in a sex scene, I've always thought, is a pretty good barometer of what they actually do in bed. I mean, they have to get their inspiration from somewhere, right? But I digress.
Another guy, I remember, did a really fine monologue for us, very smart, underplayed, intense, quite nice. And as he left the room said casually over his shoulder, "Fuck all of you."
So auditions can be enlightening. I still think they are the worst possible way to cast a play, yet there aren't really any alternatives. They are the lesser of all evils. Ideally, I'd like to see every single actor in a play, actually in front of an audience, under fire, in the midst of real combat, and make my decision that way. Of course, that's impossible. Another thing I've noticed over the years is that very often the reading you get in the room is exactly the same reading you'll get on opening night. And there's simply no way of predicting that. So I try to keep a keen eye out for actors that possibly don't audition well but indicate a hidden level of explosive talent. After all, Robert DeNiro was a notoriously bad auditioner. The stuff of lore. He is dyslexic and doesn't read well. And Brando simply came to audions early in his career and made up monologues on the spot. In one famous and often re-enacted audition for the lauded and snooty Lunts, he stared at the dark theatre for a long time and then finally said, "Hickory, Dickory Dock, the mouse ran up the clock. There are people fucking starving in India right now, you pricks." And walked off stage. He didn't get the role.
So I'm looking forward to the day. Undoubtedly we'll get some stories from it. My concern is, Jimmy and I have a terrible tendency to make each other laugh over the stupidist things. It's one reason we had so much trouble working together onstage long ago. We just start giggling over shit that only we find funny. So, I'll probably try not to look at him too much today during the proceedings.
Tomorrow we'll have the callbacks and the actors selected will be reading scenes from the plays. We'll give the sides as they leave the room to avoid having to make dozens of phone calls tonight. Also, Angie and I are having dinner with a group of Missouri friends tonight so I don't have time for that anyway.
One of my favorite audition stories. Guy comes in, gives his name, pauses importantly, finally starts: "I'll be playing Gloucester from Richard III...another solemn pause...NOW IS THE SUMMER...stops...pause...I'll come in again. Leaves the room, shuts the door and walks back in. Pause. I'll be playing Gloucester from Richard III...NOW IS THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT..."
See you tomorrow.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Upcoming Auditons for theGathering Theatre Company.
Big weekend coming up, professionally speaking. Our first steps toward making theGathering (the name of our new theatre company) a reality.
Starting a theatre company here in LA (or anywhere for that matter) is a massive undertaking. So many things to do in prepararation. I'm in awe of people who have done it before me. Most fail, of course. The first five years are brutal. Having been in on the start-up of Actors Workshop in Chicago I know just how tough it is. The only thing that kept that company afloat in the first couple of difficult years was the sheer determination and grit of the artistic director, Michael Colucci. That company is now in it's seventh year and one of the most respected small, professional theatres in Chicago. In fact, my play, Praying Small, opened that theatre.
One of the things we're trying to prove is that new companies don't need a 'pay to act' clause in its membership. This seems to be a very west coast thing. Personally I find it deplorable. That's just me, though. Out here it seems to be accepted as 'the way it's done.' Well, we (and by 'we' I mean James Barbour, John Bader and myself) don't buy into that. We think it can be done without having company members pay dues to be involved. But then again we don't expect to make money off our endeavor. It will be a not-for-profit venture in the true sense of the word at first...there will be no profit. Any and all monies made by and for the theatre company will be dropped back into the organization.
Saturday we're holding auditions for two new plays to be done as staged readings: Bachelor's Graveyard (which I'll direct) and The Promise (helmed by the very fine actor Larry Cedar, schedule permitting). The response to our post on Actors Access has been nothing short of astonishing. We've had close to 300 requests for auditions. We have time for about 80. So the selection process has been nerve-wracking. The first day, Saturday, will only be a one-minute monologue. We'll call back from that day into Sunday when we'll start reading from the scripts.
The three of us, the founding directors of the company, Jim, myself and John, have our plates full, to be sure. Organizing the many details for just the auditions is a challenge, much less the actual company responsibilities. But the good thing is we're forming this thing based solely on talent, not the ability to pay $75 a month to act. I certainly understand why other companies do that, but I still find it a bit smarmy.
We made the decision to have three artistic directors so that when one of us is busy with a film or some other endeavor, the other two can pick up the slack.
One of the really bright spots of the new company is the list of high-powered, recognizable names we're assembling for the Advisory Board. I'm a little stunned at some of the people that have lent us their names for use on our website and letterhead. It lends the entire enterprise a huge level of gravitas and legitimacy.
I have an audition for another film today that would take me to the mountains for a bit to do the shooting. Not a terribly exciting part, but as usual, great money.
Angie, poor thing, has been sick as a dog the past day or so. Flu season, I guess. And she caught it with a vengeance. I finally convinced her to take some medicine for it last night and it promptly knocked her out. Hopefully all of this sleep will help. This is part of that whole 'in sickness and in health' thing, I guess. He says, smiling.
All is good. Every day is fun and challenging. The new company is exciting. Lots of plans in the making. I really couldn't ask for more.
See you tomorrow.
Starting a theatre company here in LA (or anywhere for that matter) is a massive undertaking. So many things to do in prepararation. I'm in awe of people who have done it before me. Most fail, of course. The first five years are brutal. Having been in on the start-up of Actors Workshop in Chicago I know just how tough it is. The only thing that kept that company afloat in the first couple of difficult years was the sheer determination and grit of the artistic director, Michael Colucci. That company is now in it's seventh year and one of the most respected small, professional theatres in Chicago. In fact, my play, Praying Small, opened that theatre.
One of the things we're trying to prove is that new companies don't need a 'pay to act' clause in its membership. This seems to be a very west coast thing. Personally I find it deplorable. That's just me, though. Out here it seems to be accepted as 'the way it's done.' Well, we (and by 'we' I mean James Barbour, John Bader and myself) don't buy into that. We think it can be done without having company members pay dues to be involved. But then again we don't expect to make money off our endeavor. It will be a not-for-profit venture in the true sense of the word at first...there will be no profit. Any and all monies made by and for the theatre company will be dropped back into the organization.
Saturday we're holding auditions for two new plays to be done as staged readings: Bachelor's Graveyard (which I'll direct) and The Promise (helmed by the very fine actor Larry Cedar, schedule permitting). The response to our post on Actors Access has been nothing short of astonishing. We've had close to 300 requests for auditions. We have time for about 80. So the selection process has been nerve-wracking. The first day, Saturday, will only be a one-minute monologue. We'll call back from that day into Sunday when we'll start reading from the scripts.
The three of us, the founding directors of the company, Jim, myself and John, have our plates full, to be sure. Organizing the many details for just the auditions is a challenge, much less the actual company responsibilities. But the good thing is we're forming this thing based solely on talent, not the ability to pay $75 a month to act. I certainly understand why other companies do that, but I still find it a bit smarmy.
We made the decision to have three artistic directors so that when one of us is busy with a film or some other endeavor, the other two can pick up the slack.
One of the really bright spots of the new company is the list of high-powered, recognizable names we're assembling for the Advisory Board. I'm a little stunned at some of the people that have lent us their names for use on our website and letterhead. It lends the entire enterprise a huge level of gravitas and legitimacy.
I have an audition for another film today that would take me to the mountains for a bit to do the shooting. Not a terribly exciting part, but as usual, great money.
Angie, poor thing, has been sick as a dog the past day or so. Flu season, I guess. And she caught it with a vengeance. I finally convinced her to take some medicine for it last night and it promptly knocked her out. Hopefully all of this sleep will help. This is part of that whole 'in sickness and in health' thing, I guess. He says, smiling.
All is good. Every day is fun and challenging. The new company is exciting. Lots of plans in the making. I really couldn't ask for more.
See you tomorrow.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Matching the Medium Shot...
I finished my last day of filming yesterday with this new film. I had one last interior scene to be shot. I play a very smarmy, dismissive, asshole of a guy, an office boss, the kind of guy that doesn't even respond to 'good morning' because he thinks it's beneath him to talk to underlings about anything except work. I've had bosses like that in my life, probably most of us have. Really unhappy, miserable, soul-sucking people.
Working in film is relatively new to me. I've done fillm and television work periodically throughout my life, but it was always incidental. It was never something I sought out. Of course, that comes from a general way of thinking prevalent in both NY and Chicago. But LA is not NY or Chicago. Film is what people do here. Theatre is incidental. God knows the money is a helluva lot better for film and TV work.
I was chatting with a buddy of mine late last night after filming all day. He's done quite a bit more of it than I have. And I confessed to him that I really love it. And I do. I am, however, really, really ignorant about it. I like to consider myself a fast learner, though, and I'm learning a great deal about it every time I do something new. And I learned something new yesterday.
Now, when I say 'I love it', I'm talking about the actual filming. As one might guess, it's all about conserving one's energy until the word 'action' is shouted. Sometimes hours go by between shots. Yesterday was no different. We were shooting in an office in downtown Burbank all day. Myself and another guy in the scene and dozens of extras. Technicians were scurrying around doing technicial stuff. The principal actors (me and this other guy) were parked in a plush room by ourselves and the extras were in a big, break room on the other side of the offices. The continuity person and the Second AD were coming and going throughout.
But anyway, back to what I learned.
In this particular case, and I don't know if it always works like this, the 'medium shots' were done first and then all the close-ups, over the shoulder shots and coverage shots later. In the first 'medium' shot, I'm in a conference room with a group of young executives and I"m being an asshole at the front of the table. Being generally negative and saying things like, "If you wanna keep your jobs..." They are all brow-beaten and a bit anxious because I'm the kinda guy that likes to make everyone feel inferior...again, I've known so many people like that in my life. It wasn't, to say the least, an acting stretch for me.
But I was using glasses in the shot and put them on and took them off three times. Reading glasses.
After that shot we started on the coverage shots. The continuity person (a very nice woman with an incredible eye for detail) was on me like white on rice. Everytime, for the rest of the day, that we did another shot of that scene she was right beside me telling me exactly where I took my glasses off, on which word, when I put them back on, with what hand, which hand I used to pick up a folder, etc. My, oh, my. While not exactly distracting, it did give me a whole new level of things to think about.
So what I learned, that I suppose I already knew but hadn't given a lot of thought to, is that whatever I do in the first 'medium' shot, I'm locked into for the all the other shots. It's really just common sense, but I'm a sort of a 'let's just turn on the camera and see what happens' kinda guy. Even though it obviously behooves the actor to know exactly where the camera is and what the frame looks like, I tend to get focused very quickly and then ignore all that to the degree that it's possible. Eventually, I treated it all as a sort of intellectual exercise. And rather than be annoyed by all the constant reminders of when I did what and on what word, instead I found it utterly fascinating.
Also, as I mentioned earlier in this blog, the old adage, 'save it for the close-up' is so, so true. That is the moment when absolute, precise, exact concentration and honesty is demanded. For this project, the director (and I know this isn't always true), a veteran of many films (I can't say his name until the film is released...I signed a legal document saying I couldn't publicly discuss the director, plot or production company), was a really easy going guy that trusts actors. His focus was about 90-10: 90 percent on all the technical stuff and 10 percent on molding the performance. At the end of the day he never invited the actors to see what he filmed. But for some reason he and I really hit it off. We ate lunch together and chatted about films and plays and whatnot. He told me something interesting. He said if he's casting a film and looking through a resume, he skips all the TV and film credits and looks for extensive stage credits. Why? Because he says those are the actors, generally speaking, he's not going to have to baby-sit. Stage actors are trained to do it alone. To immediately swallow themselves in the work itself and not worry about the camera and the crew watching and all those other things that jerk an actor out of a scene. And, as an added compliment, when the final, 'let's print that one' was uttered, he asked me to come back and look at the scene. He told me he never does that, for the most part, but he knew I didn't have a huge background with the camera and wanted me to see what I had done. When we finished watching all the 'rushes' he said, "You're going to be doing a lot of this. You're completely natural in front of the camera. I wanted you to see that." And while not terribly comfortable watching myself work, I have to admit, it looked pretty good. That is to say, I wasn't watching with a critical eye of what I did, but rather was watching to see what 'that guy on the screen' was doing. And I didn't like that guy, that character. I wasn't critically watching me at all, but rather some nefarious, suit and tie guy, being an ass.
So despite all the tedious waiting and standing around, I really loved the actual spurts of filming. And, as I said, when all is said and done, the money ain't bad.
I'm off today to audition for a stage play in Redondo Beach. Big, big theatre. Great contract. A play I've done many times before. It plays right up until Christmas which is perfect because then Ange and I are flying back to Missouri for the holidays. The timing couldn't be better. The day after I would close (assuming I get the part, and egotist that I am, I always assume that) we fly out to the Ozarks.
And Thursday I'm called back for a small, supporting role in a film that would require me to fly to the mountains of Utah to do some work on location there. The trick these days is to keep juggling all the balls in the air and hope there aren't too many conflicts.
Plus next Saturday and Sunday we're auditioning abour a hundred actors for two of my plays that are going up in a staged reading capacity. The name of our new company is 'The Gathering.' These reading will be our first venture. It's all very exciting, actually.
LA is in the sixties these days, gloomy and overcast. Native LAers are treating it like a blizzard, all bundled up and wearing sweaters and uggs and trench coats. I'm treating like good sleeping weather.
See you tomorrow.
Working in film is relatively new to me. I've done fillm and television work periodically throughout my life, but it was always incidental. It was never something I sought out. Of course, that comes from a general way of thinking prevalent in both NY and Chicago. But LA is not NY or Chicago. Film is what people do here. Theatre is incidental. God knows the money is a helluva lot better for film and TV work.
I was chatting with a buddy of mine late last night after filming all day. He's done quite a bit more of it than I have. And I confessed to him that I really love it. And I do. I am, however, really, really ignorant about it. I like to consider myself a fast learner, though, and I'm learning a great deal about it every time I do something new. And I learned something new yesterday.
Now, when I say 'I love it', I'm talking about the actual filming. As one might guess, it's all about conserving one's energy until the word 'action' is shouted. Sometimes hours go by between shots. Yesterday was no different. We were shooting in an office in downtown Burbank all day. Myself and another guy in the scene and dozens of extras. Technicians were scurrying around doing technicial stuff. The principal actors (me and this other guy) were parked in a plush room by ourselves and the extras were in a big, break room on the other side of the offices. The continuity person and the Second AD were coming and going throughout.
But anyway, back to what I learned.
In this particular case, and I don't know if it always works like this, the 'medium shots' were done first and then all the close-ups, over the shoulder shots and coverage shots later. In the first 'medium' shot, I'm in a conference room with a group of young executives and I"m being an asshole at the front of the table. Being generally negative and saying things like, "If you wanna keep your jobs..." They are all brow-beaten and a bit anxious because I'm the kinda guy that likes to make everyone feel inferior...again, I've known so many people like that in my life. It wasn't, to say the least, an acting stretch for me.
But I was using glasses in the shot and put them on and took them off three times. Reading glasses.
After that shot we started on the coverage shots. The continuity person (a very nice woman with an incredible eye for detail) was on me like white on rice. Everytime, for the rest of the day, that we did another shot of that scene she was right beside me telling me exactly where I took my glasses off, on which word, when I put them back on, with what hand, which hand I used to pick up a folder, etc. My, oh, my. While not exactly distracting, it did give me a whole new level of things to think about.
So what I learned, that I suppose I already knew but hadn't given a lot of thought to, is that whatever I do in the first 'medium' shot, I'm locked into for the all the other shots. It's really just common sense, but I'm a sort of a 'let's just turn on the camera and see what happens' kinda guy. Even though it obviously behooves the actor to know exactly where the camera is and what the frame looks like, I tend to get focused very quickly and then ignore all that to the degree that it's possible. Eventually, I treated it all as a sort of intellectual exercise. And rather than be annoyed by all the constant reminders of when I did what and on what word, instead I found it utterly fascinating.
Also, as I mentioned earlier in this blog, the old adage, 'save it for the close-up' is so, so true. That is the moment when absolute, precise, exact concentration and honesty is demanded. For this project, the director (and I know this isn't always true), a veteran of many films (I can't say his name until the film is released...I signed a legal document saying I couldn't publicly discuss the director, plot or production company), was a really easy going guy that trusts actors. His focus was about 90-10: 90 percent on all the technical stuff and 10 percent on molding the performance. At the end of the day he never invited the actors to see what he filmed. But for some reason he and I really hit it off. We ate lunch together and chatted about films and plays and whatnot. He told me something interesting. He said if he's casting a film and looking through a resume, he skips all the TV and film credits and looks for extensive stage credits. Why? Because he says those are the actors, generally speaking, he's not going to have to baby-sit. Stage actors are trained to do it alone. To immediately swallow themselves in the work itself and not worry about the camera and the crew watching and all those other things that jerk an actor out of a scene. And, as an added compliment, when the final, 'let's print that one' was uttered, he asked me to come back and look at the scene. He told me he never does that, for the most part, but he knew I didn't have a huge background with the camera and wanted me to see what I had done. When we finished watching all the 'rushes' he said, "You're going to be doing a lot of this. You're completely natural in front of the camera. I wanted you to see that." And while not terribly comfortable watching myself work, I have to admit, it looked pretty good. That is to say, I wasn't watching with a critical eye of what I did, but rather was watching to see what 'that guy on the screen' was doing. And I didn't like that guy, that character. I wasn't critically watching me at all, but rather some nefarious, suit and tie guy, being an ass.
So despite all the tedious waiting and standing around, I really loved the actual spurts of filming. And, as I said, when all is said and done, the money ain't bad.
I'm off today to audition for a stage play in Redondo Beach. Big, big theatre. Great contract. A play I've done many times before. It plays right up until Christmas which is perfect because then Ange and I are flying back to Missouri for the holidays. The timing couldn't be better. The day after I would close (assuming I get the part, and egotist that I am, I always assume that) we fly out to the Ozarks.
And Thursday I'm called back for a small, supporting role in a film that would require me to fly to the mountains of Utah to do some work on location there. The trick these days is to keep juggling all the balls in the air and hope there aren't too many conflicts.
Plus next Saturday and Sunday we're auditioning abour a hundred actors for two of my plays that are going up in a staged reading capacity. The name of our new company is 'The Gathering.' These reading will be our first venture. It's all very exciting, actually.
LA is in the sixties these days, gloomy and overcast. Native LAers are treating it like a blizzard, all bundled up and wearing sweaters and uggs and trench coats. I'm treating like good sleeping weather.
See you tomorrow.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Two New Plays Going Into Production: Bachelor's Graveyard and The Promise.
It's been a whirlwind week. I love whirlwind weeks. Nothing beats a good whirlwind week.
I'm doing rewrites on a new piece called 'The Promise' today. It came about rather odd. About six months ago I was having lunch with a buddy of mine at my favorite 'sit around and chat and smoke cigs and kvetch' diner here in LA called Sittons and I was despairing the fact that there were no plays that a whole group of my 40-something actor friends and I could do. Unlike NYC and Chicago, LA is a place that uses theatre to stay sharp between 'real' gigs. Actually, I was having lunch with Jim Barbour and John Bader. Jim said, "You're the damned writer. WRITE something for us." So I did. And it's called 'The Promise.'
There are several themes in my life I seem to be obsessing over these days: aging gracefully, forgiveness, emotionally driven, spiritual paradigm shifts, and reliance on a higher power. The latter of these themes is a sure way to get my dander up. There is a plethora of spiritual ideas concerning this. All of which I summarily dismiss. The most prevelant being that if one only 'surrenders' one achieves a semblence of a 'state of grace.' I'm utterly confounded and annoyed by this line of thought. AA, perhaps the most altruistic social movement of the twentieth century, bases it's entire existence on this train of thought. It has always seemed purposely elusive to me. I do not deny it's power, however, and I'm all for doing what makes one a better person. I mean, it's difficult to argue with success. Nonetheless, the sheer ambiguity of it always leaves me cynical.
Therin lies the premise for 'The Promise,' alliteration intended.
So I began writing the piece. It's finally nearing completion and will be done as one of two, full-length staged readings that will launch our new company in early November.
Personally, I've always preferred a more 'hands on' higher power. You know, the kind that parts seas and feeds thousands with a loaf and a fish and strikes down invading armies and gets pissed off and floods the world out of childish pique. The 'absentee landlord' higher power has always sort of bored me. I don't believe a word of it, however, but it makes for good drama. The Jeffersonian thinking now called 'classical deism' has always been my pesonal way of sorting through life's hurdles. Also, I have an inordinate number of friends that subscribe to the science of mind teachings. Wayne Dyer, those kinds of guys. I'm all for it. But to be honest, that stuff bothers me, too. I find it to be insufferably optimistic. Nonetheless, some very smart people I know are neck deep in it.
A couple of my friends are unabashed Scientologists, an organized teaching religion that has gotten a very bad rap in the press, undeservedly so, as far as I can tell. From what I've read, it's really rather altruistic, too. Although they do tend to hammer home the money part of it a lot. And L. Ron Hubbard was a little too Norman Rockwellish for me in his writings. Very Republican, this guy was. However, having said that, if one is able to approach the teachings with a clear and unbiased mind, it's pretty cool stuff. At least it's practical, which is more than I can say for the Christian guys. As Salinger points out in nearly all of his writing, Jesus was one smart F-ing guy. Just a bit deluded. Updike also has a great book out there on this subject called 'A Month of Sundays' if you're so inclined to search it out.
But I digress.
The very foundation of Christianity is the idea that God forgives us. The guys that thought this up weren't just whistling Dixie. It's an enormously smart thing to base a belief on. Because if all I have to do to make that happen is join the team, well, I'm joining. The Catholics, those wily Vatican plotters, took it a step further: they added guilt to the mix. Of course, it's a lot more complicated than that, but in the final analysis, that's the upshot.
So I started with that idea. Suppose the simple act of surrendering to a notion of thought that, once adhered to, releases one from the bondage of sin is possible? That's a corker, that is. And more, suppose one man had the power to do this? And suppose that man were with us today? Let's, for the moment, forget all the trappings and myth that go along with that line of thinking. Let's dismiss all the miracles and harps and angels and demons and flowing, white hair, and whale swallowing. Let's just put the whole scenario on a back porch in rural Missouri. And then let's borrow a page from GB Shaw and play Devil's Advocate for the whole story.
Well, that's what the new play is about.
Yes, yes, a little esoteric, but fascinating nonetheless, I think. So I've created five characters, all smart, educated guys, all seeking peace of mind, all gathered together to finally clear the air so as to allow a little grace to enter their lives. Cast it with five really, really fine actors. Make it real. Don't airbrush the warts and scars. Give them a contemporary language to use. Focus on their ability to choose free-will over antiquated, paranormal beliefs, and see what happens. It is so much more interesting to write questions than answers, I've found.
This Saturday we're holding auditions for a couple of the roles for the initial staged reading in NoHo. A few of the roles are cast with the actors I had in mind when I wrote it: Jimmy Barbour, Kyle Puccia, Rob Arbogast and John Bader. All enormously gifted actors.
We're also casting four of the five roles in Bachelor's Graveyard, my homage to growing up in the small, King's Row-influenced town of Fulton, Missouri. For those of you who don't know, King's Row was sort of the test run for Peyton Place, a novel that came out decades later. But King's Row, written by Henry Bellamy, was actually written and set in small town Missouri. I think that's his name, anyway. It's not a very good read, but it's claim to fame is that it was later made into a movie with a very young actor named Ronald Reagan.
Bachelor's Graveyard, a play I wrote in 2004 and worked on periodically through 2009, is set in a graveyard outside the very small, rural town of Bachelor, Missouri, a town that actually exists, as does the graveyard itself. When I was a senior in high school it was an exclusive place that only the 'in' crowd knew about. And on some weekends we would go there and drink a ton of beer and tell lies and sometimes unspeakable trutths to each other as the evening wore on and the beer did it's work. Bachelor's Graveyard is about the last night these blessed and cursed young ne'er-do-wells, these goofy scofflaws meet there before real life swallows them up and they all leave their homes and lives to embark on a world of harsh realities. It is my favorite play. It is not my best play. But it is my favorite.
We're casting that this Saturday and Sunday, too.
So...rewrites today on 'The Promise,' meeting with my business and artistic partner, Jim B., taking my wife to lunch, learning a song for a big audition I have on Monday and memorizing a couple of short scenes I have to shoot tomorrow for this little film I've committed to. A good day. They're all good days, really.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a walk and think.
See you tomorrow.
I'm doing rewrites on a new piece called 'The Promise' today. It came about rather odd. About six months ago I was having lunch with a buddy of mine at my favorite 'sit around and chat and smoke cigs and kvetch' diner here in LA called Sittons and I was despairing the fact that there were no plays that a whole group of my 40-something actor friends and I could do. Unlike NYC and Chicago, LA is a place that uses theatre to stay sharp between 'real' gigs. Actually, I was having lunch with Jim Barbour and John Bader. Jim said, "You're the damned writer. WRITE something for us." So I did. And it's called 'The Promise.'
There are several themes in my life I seem to be obsessing over these days: aging gracefully, forgiveness, emotionally driven, spiritual paradigm shifts, and reliance on a higher power. The latter of these themes is a sure way to get my dander up. There is a plethora of spiritual ideas concerning this. All of which I summarily dismiss. The most prevelant being that if one only 'surrenders' one achieves a semblence of a 'state of grace.' I'm utterly confounded and annoyed by this line of thought. AA, perhaps the most altruistic social movement of the twentieth century, bases it's entire existence on this train of thought. It has always seemed purposely elusive to me. I do not deny it's power, however, and I'm all for doing what makes one a better person. I mean, it's difficult to argue with success. Nonetheless, the sheer ambiguity of it always leaves me cynical.
Therin lies the premise for 'The Promise,' alliteration intended.
So I began writing the piece. It's finally nearing completion and will be done as one of two, full-length staged readings that will launch our new company in early November.
Personally, I've always preferred a more 'hands on' higher power. You know, the kind that parts seas and feeds thousands with a loaf and a fish and strikes down invading armies and gets pissed off and floods the world out of childish pique. The 'absentee landlord' higher power has always sort of bored me. I don't believe a word of it, however, but it makes for good drama. The Jeffersonian thinking now called 'classical deism' has always been my pesonal way of sorting through life's hurdles. Also, I have an inordinate number of friends that subscribe to the science of mind teachings. Wayne Dyer, those kinds of guys. I'm all for it. But to be honest, that stuff bothers me, too. I find it to be insufferably optimistic. Nonetheless, some very smart people I know are neck deep in it.
A couple of my friends are unabashed Scientologists, an organized teaching religion that has gotten a very bad rap in the press, undeservedly so, as far as I can tell. From what I've read, it's really rather altruistic, too. Although they do tend to hammer home the money part of it a lot. And L. Ron Hubbard was a little too Norman Rockwellish for me in his writings. Very Republican, this guy was. However, having said that, if one is able to approach the teachings with a clear and unbiased mind, it's pretty cool stuff. At least it's practical, which is more than I can say for the Christian guys. As Salinger points out in nearly all of his writing, Jesus was one smart F-ing guy. Just a bit deluded. Updike also has a great book out there on this subject called 'A Month of Sundays' if you're so inclined to search it out.
But I digress.
The very foundation of Christianity is the idea that God forgives us. The guys that thought this up weren't just whistling Dixie. It's an enormously smart thing to base a belief on. Because if all I have to do to make that happen is join the team, well, I'm joining. The Catholics, those wily Vatican plotters, took it a step further: they added guilt to the mix. Of course, it's a lot more complicated than that, but in the final analysis, that's the upshot.
So I started with that idea. Suppose the simple act of surrendering to a notion of thought that, once adhered to, releases one from the bondage of sin is possible? That's a corker, that is. And more, suppose one man had the power to do this? And suppose that man were with us today? Let's, for the moment, forget all the trappings and myth that go along with that line of thinking. Let's dismiss all the miracles and harps and angels and demons and flowing, white hair, and whale swallowing. Let's just put the whole scenario on a back porch in rural Missouri. And then let's borrow a page from GB Shaw and play Devil's Advocate for the whole story.
Well, that's what the new play is about.
Yes, yes, a little esoteric, but fascinating nonetheless, I think. So I've created five characters, all smart, educated guys, all seeking peace of mind, all gathered together to finally clear the air so as to allow a little grace to enter their lives. Cast it with five really, really fine actors. Make it real. Don't airbrush the warts and scars. Give them a contemporary language to use. Focus on their ability to choose free-will over antiquated, paranormal beliefs, and see what happens. It is so much more interesting to write questions than answers, I've found.
This Saturday we're holding auditions for a couple of the roles for the initial staged reading in NoHo. A few of the roles are cast with the actors I had in mind when I wrote it: Jimmy Barbour, Kyle Puccia, Rob Arbogast and John Bader. All enormously gifted actors.
We're also casting four of the five roles in Bachelor's Graveyard, my homage to growing up in the small, King's Row-influenced town of Fulton, Missouri. For those of you who don't know, King's Row was sort of the test run for Peyton Place, a novel that came out decades later. But King's Row, written by Henry Bellamy, was actually written and set in small town Missouri. I think that's his name, anyway. It's not a very good read, but it's claim to fame is that it was later made into a movie with a very young actor named Ronald Reagan.
Bachelor's Graveyard, a play I wrote in 2004 and worked on periodically through 2009, is set in a graveyard outside the very small, rural town of Bachelor, Missouri, a town that actually exists, as does the graveyard itself. When I was a senior in high school it was an exclusive place that only the 'in' crowd knew about. And on some weekends we would go there and drink a ton of beer and tell lies and sometimes unspeakable trutths to each other as the evening wore on and the beer did it's work. Bachelor's Graveyard is about the last night these blessed and cursed young ne'er-do-wells, these goofy scofflaws meet there before real life swallows them up and they all leave their homes and lives to embark on a world of harsh realities. It is my favorite play. It is not my best play. But it is my favorite.
We're casting that this Saturday and Sunday, too.
So...rewrites today on 'The Promise,' meeting with my business and artistic partner, Jim B., taking my wife to lunch, learning a song for a big audition I have on Monday and memorizing a couple of short scenes I have to shoot tomorrow for this little film I've committed to. A good day. They're all good days, really.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a walk and think.
See you tomorrow.
Friday, October 15, 2010
October Tenth, Two Thousand Ten...One of the Best Days of My Life.
I apologize for my lack of blogging. Our old, circa 1947 computer had a hard drive crash and we had to put it down. It was sad, of course, but it had a long and good life. It wrote a couple of plays, in fact, with a little help from me. But it finally gave up the ghost and we brought in a Science of Mind preacher and gave it the last rites. He told it to 'visualize' a beautiful computer heaven and it will happen. Life is so easy for those guys. Today I'm going to visualize a Big Mac and hope for the best.
Oh, and I got married.
We found this guy, Reverend Chuck, on the internet. In addition to being a Notary that marries people he's also the Vice President of his local Harley Davidson Club. Perfect. Actually, the big reason we chose Reverend Chuck is because he offered a 'one stop' deal...marriage license, ceremony and chapel. He had a 'first come, first serve' deal on 10/10/10 so we just did it.
We were pleasantly surprised, to say the least.
We got to the small office/chapel about 9:30 with our bridesmaids and best men. It wasn't early enough. There were four other couples ahead of us. So we sat and drank Starbucks and laughed a great deal while waiting next door. Finally, our names were called and Angie and I went in and filled out all the pre-requisite papers, etc. Then we brought in the rest of the gang and commenced. Now, I had every intention of treating the whole thing with a certain amount of levity. I mean, come on, it's not like we were in the Sistine Chapel. But I was caught off guard when we saw what a lovely little chapel it was and Reverend Chuck turned out to be a soft-spoken, sincere, gentle little man with the best of intentions. He lent the whole scene a surprising amount of gravitas. I had written our vows beforehand and we opted for the non-religious ceremony. It turned out, much to my delight and surprise, to be a really beautiful and thoughtful ceremony. I'm sure Angie will be posting pictures today. One of my best men, Jim Barbour, is one of those guys that has every cool gadget known to man. And one of them is a camera that costs about ten million dollars. So he acted as the unofficial photographer throughout the day and the pictures, which I saw yesterday, are incredible. He took about three hundred, all told, including the ceremony and the party, which we had later that day.
Again, I was prepared to treat the party with as much cynicism as I could muster. And again, I was pleasantly foiled. Tammy Jackson-Lipps, one of Angie's dearest and longest friends, is a world-class caterer. She did the whole shebang for us. As soon as we got home, all married up, we began to work. My other Best Man, John Bader, and I began setting up. We had carefully selected 30 people to attend the wedding dinner. And every single one showed up. I somehow had it in my mind that we would have a bunch of chairs scattered about the back yard with maybe some 7-layer dip and that would be that. Oh, contraire, my dear. Angie and Tammy had something else altogether in mind.
It was an 'Italian Country Dinner' complete with a long table we stretched out endlessly into the back yard complete with exquisite dinner settings, elegant decorative touches and absolutely astonishing food; filet mignon, stuffed chicken breasts, arugala salad with goat cheese, tons of appetizers so fancy I didn't even know their names, dozens and dozens of bottles of top-notch wine, all kinds and shapes of incredible desserts. It was a beatiful and moveable feast. Again, pictures forthcoming, I'm sure. Toasts were made deep into the night. Our horses were just a few feet away, neighing happily. Franny and Zooey were in heaven. They got lots of attention. White, gleaming table cloths, all my oldest friends in Los Angeles there, may from my NY days. And Angie's, too. It turned out to be, and I apologize for sounding corny but, a magical night. The kind of night we will talk about when we're in the 'home' together many years from now.
John and Jim and Tammy and Angie's other 'Best Woman,' Glenna Norris, all gave beautiful and enormously touching speeches, glasses raised, profundity galore, deep and heart felt speeches, tears and laughter. I was very moved and I know Angie was, too.
Both Angie and myself were, quite simply, overwhelmed. So much so, in fact, that I kept trying to break into 'The Theme From Ice Castles' at every opportunity, only to be shushed into silence.
Then our computer died and I was cut off from the civilized world. But we have a new one now and all is as it should be.
Jim and I finally decided, few days ago, to not only go forth with our acting workshop on November 6 and 7 but also to produce two staged readings of my plays, Bachelor's Graveyard and The Promise. The former had been scheduled for full production with the last theatre company in which I was involved but after the very difficult rehearsal process of Praying Small with that company, was discarded. The latter is a piece, a murder mystery of sorts, that I've been working on for a long time for several close friends and wonderful actors: John Bader, Jim, myself, Brad Greenquist, Kyle Puccia and the remarkable Rob Arbogast. We plan to include both plays in the debut season of our new theatre company and just decided to get the ball rolling with both of these world-premiere plays. They're both pretty good, if I don't say so myself.
So we posted the auditions on Actors Access and now I am inundated with actors looking for a slot to audition. I love it. I'll say this much, it may take Jim and I awhile to make a decision about something but once it happens it goes forth like a dam breaking. Every second of my days are filled with preparations for the workshop and the readings now. Plus I still have one more day to shoot on the film I'm doing. They've called me in for more interior scenes on Sunday.
My wonderful agents at Schiowitz, Clay, et al, have sent me up for an audition on Monday for the prestigious Civic Light Opera Company of South Bay Cities...quite possibly the longest name for a professional, Equity theatre in history. They're doing 1940's Radio Hour, a show I've done six, count 'em, six times in six different venues. Suffice to say, I know that show fairly well, so I think I might have a good shot at it. It's a terrific Equity contract and the timing is perfect.
We also posted a whole gaggle of new shots on LA Casting, a website for commercial actors, and picked up new pictures from a cracker-jack photo-guy in Burbank. They look great. As I told Angie, I don't want anything special out here in LA as an actor, I just want to compete on a level playing field. Well, that's about to happen.
So there you have it. Optimism has always been a strain for me. I don't trust it. But it is upon me. So much to do and I am incredibly fortunate to love every moment of it. To quote Mr. Sondheim, "So many...possibilities." Ah, in love and working. What more can anyone ask for? But I'm still 'visualizing' that Big Mac.
See you tomorrow.
Oh, and I got married.
We found this guy, Reverend Chuck, on the internet. In addition to being a Notary that marries people he's also the Vice President of his local Harley Davidson Club. Perfect. Actually, the big reason we chose Reverend Chuck is because he offered a 'one stop' deal...marriage license, ceremony and chapel. He had a 'first come, first serve' deal on 10/10/10 so we just did it.
We were pleasantly surprised, to say the least.
We got to the small office/chapel about 9:30 with our bridesmaids and best men. It wasn't early enough. There were four other couples ahead of us. So we sat and drank Starbucks and laughed a great deal while waiting next door. Finally, our names were called and Angie and I went in and filled out all the pre-requisite papers, etc. Then we brought in the rest of the gang and commenced. Now, I had every intention of treating the whole thing with a certain amount of levity. I mean, come on, it's not like we were in the Sistine Chapel. But I was caught off guard when we saw what a lovely little chapel it was and Reverend Chuck turned out to be a soft-spoken, sincere, gentle little man with the best of intentions. He lent the whole scene a surprising amount of gravitas. I had written our vows beforehand and we opted for the non-religious ceremony. It turned out, much to my delight and surprise, to be a really beautiful and thoughtful ceremony. I'm sure Angie will be posting pictures today. One of my best men, Jim Barbour, is one of those guys that has every cool gadget known to man. And one of them is a camera that costs about ten million dollars. So he acted as the unofficial photographer throughout the day and the pictures, which I saw yesterday, are incredible. He took about three hundred, all told, including the ceremony and the party, which we had later that day.
Again, I was prepared to treat the party with as much cynicism as I could muster. And again, I was pleasantly foiled. Tammy Jackson-Lipps, one of Angie's dearest and longest friends, is a world-class caterer. She did the whole shebang for us. As soon as we got home, all married up, we began to work. My other Best Man, John Bader, and I began setting up. We had carefully selected 30 people to attend the wedding dinner. And every single one showed up. I somehow had it in my mind that we would have a bunch of chairs scattered about the back yard with maybe some 7-layer dip and that would be that. Oh, contraire, my dear. Angie and Tammy had something else altogether in mind.
It was an 'Italian Country Dinner' complete with a long table we stretched out endlessly into the back yard complete with exquisite dinner settings, elegant decorative touches and absolutely astonishing food; filet mignon, stuffed chicken breasts, arugala salad with goat cheese, tons of appetizers so fancy I didn't even know their names, dozens and dozens of bottles of top-notch wine, all kinds and shapes of incredible desserts. It was a beatiful and moveable feast. Again, pictures forthcoming, I'm sure. Toasts were made deep into the night. Our horses were just a few feet away, neighing happily. Franny and Zooey were in heaven. They got lots of attention. White, gleaming table cloths, all my oldest friends in Los Angeles there, may from my NY days. And Angie's, too. It turned out to be, and I apologize for sounding corny but, a magical night. The kind of night we will talk about when we're in the 'home' together many years from now.
John and Jim and Tammy and Angie's other 'Best Woman,' Glenna Norris, all gave beautiful and enormously touching speeches, glasses raised, profundity galore, deep and heart felt speeches, tears and laughter. I was very moved and I know Angie was, too.
Both Angie and myself were, quite simply, overwhelmed. So much so, in fact, that I kept trying to break into 'The Theme From Ice Castles' at every opportunity, only to be shushed into silence.
Then our computer died and I was cut off from the civilized world. But we have a new one now and all is as it should be.
Jim and I finally decided, few days ago, to not only go forth with our acting workshop on November 6 and 7 but also to produce two staged readings of my plays, Bachelor's Graveyard and The Promise. The former had been scheduled for full production with the last theatre company in which I was involved but after the very difficult rehearsal process of Praying Small with that company, was discarded. The latter is a piece, a murder mystery of sorts, that I've been working on for a long time for several close friends and wonderful actors: John Bader, Jim, myself, Brad Greenquist, Kyle Puccia and the remarkable Rob Arbogast. We plan to include both plays in the debut season of our new theatre company and just decided to get the ball rolling with both of these world-premiere plays. They're both pretty good, if I don't say so myself.
So we posted the auditions on Actors Access and now I am inundated with actors looking for a slot to audition. I love it. I'll say this much, it may take Jim and I awhile to make a decision about something but once it happens it goes forth like a dam breaking. Every second of my days are filled with preparations for the workshop and the readings now. Plus I still have one more day to shoot on the film I'm doing. They've called me in for more interior scenes on Sunday.
My wonderful agents at Schiowitz, Clay, et al, have sent me up for an audition on Monday for the prestigious Civic Light Opera Company of South Bay Cities...quite possibly the longest name for a professional, Equity theatre in history. They're doing 1940's Radio Hour, a show I've done six, count 'em, six times in six different venues. Suffice to say, I know that show fairly well, so I think I might have a good shot at it. It's a terrific Equity contract and the timing is perfect.
We also posted a whole gaggle of new shots on LA Casting, a website for commercial actors, and picked up new pictures from a cracker-jack photo-guy in Burbank. They look great. As I told Angie, I don't want anything special out here in LA as an actor, I just want to compete on a level playing field. Well, that's about to happen.
So there you have it. Optimism has always been a strain for me. I don't trust it. But it is upon me. So much to do and I am incredibly fortunate to love every moment of it. To quote Mr. Sondheim, "So many...possibilities." Ah, in love and working. What more can anyone ask for? But I'm still 'visualizing' that Big Mac.
See you tomorrow.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
...Get me to the church on time...
Angie and I are getting married this Sunday, October 10, 2010, at 10am. Yes, that's right, 10/10/10 at 10. Initially, we had planned to wait till November, but the idea of all the tens was just too inviting. The rings are on the wash table in front of me as I write. Angie has a beautiful, understated, diamond-studded, petite and slim ring that perfectly matches her engagement ring (a re-set ring from her grandmother) and I have a black, silver-lined ring with pure silver lines through it. I confess to not being a ring wearing kinda guy. I don't know why. I've just never liked wearing rings. So it will take some getting used to on my part.
We're having a private, very small wedding in a little chapel in the exclusive Sherman Oaks area of Los Angeles. We've decided to be ultra-casual about it. We've both been around the block a few times and neither one of us is interested in a big wedding. On Angie's side will be her dear and lifelong friends, Tammy Lipps and Glenna Norris. On my side will be my old and close buddy's Jimmy Barbour and John Bader.
I met Jim in Kentucky, of all places, back in the summer of 1988. The show was that old warhorse, Camelot, and I was playing King Arthur to Jimmy's Lancelot. We were instantly close friends. I had just pulled up to the parking lot out in front of the theater and was standing beside the car yapping with some other actors in the show that I knew. Jim was up by the box office and someone told him, "That guy getting out of his car is your King Arthur." So he came down to meet me and as I stood there chatting, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. I turned around to see Jim, all 6'4" of him and he said, "Hi, I'm Jim Barbour. I studied with the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in London." He claims I said, "Hi, I'm Clif Morts and I don't give a shit." I don't remember it that way, but Jimmy swears that was the exchange.
Between us we have about a thousand stories of that summer and that show together. We still laugh about them today. We went on to do a whole gaggle of shows together at a number of professional theatres up and down the east coast: Funny Girl, Drood, West Side Story, 1776, 1940's Radio Hour, Hello, Dolly, a couple of others. Eventually, it became difficult to work together because we both had a niche for making each other break on stage. Very few people can make me break on stage, Jim is one. For some reason we got to the point where just looking at each other on stage put us both in danger of dissolving into laughter. I don't know why. Doing 1776 with Jimmy was almost painful every night because of it. If you've ever tried to keep from laughing in church, you know exactly the kind of pain I'm talking about. I sort of moved into writing a lot of plays and Jim, of course, became a few years later one of the most sought after musical theatre leading men in the country, doing mafor roles in Broadway's Carousel, Jane Eyre, A Tale of Two Cities, Assassins, Beauty and the Beast and many others. And somehow, without planning it, we both ended up in Los Angeles, 22 years later, living about five minutes from each other. In fact, we're co-teaching a workshop this November in NoHo.
John Bader has been a close friend even longer. Right after I graduated undergraduate school in Springfield, MO, I travelled to Iowa, of all places, to a little dung hole of a theater called The Old Creamery, run by a psychopath of an artistic director. John and I were both doing our Equity Internship there at the same time. That was October of 1984. We ended up going on a bus and truck tour of the show The Fantasticks, with me as El Gallo and John as The Man Who Dies. We both ended up moving to NYC at approximately the same time and over the course of the next fifteen years drinking most of the beer and tequila in that city. In fact, John ended up directing my first produced play in New York called Changing It To Brando. He moved to Los Angeles in 1999 and lives about ten minutes from me now in the other direction. John went on to do about 100 commercials out here, a few films, some TV shows (most notably a long stretch on the network series, The Practice) and a couple of plays. He, like Jim, is a very, very good actor. One of the best I know, in fact. It's funny, but I seem to be incapable of being close friends with bad actors. All of my best buds are really good at what they do. I'm sure that says something about me, just not sure what.
So those are the two guys standing up with me in Sherman Oaks this Sunday. And I couldn't be happier about it.
John has organized a Bachelor's Party of sorts for this Friday night. Seeing how neither of us drink anymore, we'll probably be in bed by ten that night. We're heading over to a bowling alley with a group of my closest friends out here on the west coast, John, Jim, Brad Blaisdell, Brad Greenquist, Joe Hulser, Jim Petersmith and Rob Arbogast, all incredibly talented actors. It's shaping up to be a fun night.
Afer the small ceremony (yes, I've written the vows myself) we're heading back here to the cottage to have a big dinner party, about 25 people or so. Angie's friend, Tammy Lipps, a professional caterer here in LA, is doing the whole spread. She's been written up in lots of magazines and stuff for her work and it promises to be a very tasty afternoon. Lots of old friends are coming over and a few new ones, too. It seems I was nearly the last of my generation of actors to make the move to LA. We all started out in NY years ago, and one by one made the journey west. I guess I sort of did, but I had a decade-long, pit-stop in Chicago.
I have to teach this workshop and finish filming the little movie I'm doing now, so our honeymoon is going to have to wait a bit. But when we have the time our plan is to simply rent an RV and take out on the open road for a couple of weeks stopping off at places like The Grand Canyon (Old Dean Martin joke: Í went to the Grand Canyon yesterday and it was closed!) and Vegas (oddly, I've never been). We decided on this because we wanted to take our dogs, Franny and Zooey, with us. Plus, I've always had a sort of obsessive preoccupation with RVs. Don't know why. I just like the idea of a mobile "fort," I guess, like when I was a kid. We went to look at some awhile back and we think we've found the perfect one: a 28 footer that looks like a small, upper west side apartment on the inside without the great view.
So after nearly a year of talking about it, we're finally doing the deed. Getting married.
How do you make God laugh? Tell him your plans.
See you tomorrow.
We're having a private, very small wedding in a little chapel in the exclusive Sherman Oaks area of Los Angeles. We've decided to be ultra-casual about it. We've both been around the block a few times and neither one of us is interested in a big wedding. On Angie's side will be her dear and lifelong friends, Tammy Lipps and Glenna Norris. On my side will be my old and close buddy's Jimmy Barbour and John Bader.
I met Jim in Kentucky, of all places, back in the summer of 1988. The show was that old warhorse, Camelot, and I was playing King Arthur to Jimmy's Lancelot. We were instantly close friends. I had just pulled up to the parking lot out in front of the theater and was standing beside the car yapping with some other actors in the show that I knew. Jim was up by the box office and someone told him, "That guy getting out of his car is your King Arthur." So he came down to meet me and as I stood there chatting, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. I turned around to see Jim, all 6'4" of him and he said, "Hi, I'm Jim Barbour. I studied with the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in London." He claims I said, "Hi, I'm Clif Morts and I don't give a shit." I don't remember it that way, but Jimmy swears that was the exchange.
Between us we have about a thousand stories of that summer and that show together. We still laugh about them today. We went on to do a whole gaggle of shows together at a number of professional theatres up and down the east coast: Funny Girl, Drood, West Side Story, 1776, 1940's Radio Hour, Hello, Dolly, a couple of others. Eventually, it became difficult to work together because we both had a niche for making each other break on stage. Very few people can make me break on stage, Jim is one. For some reason we got to the point where just looking at each other on stage put us both in danger of dissolving into laughter. I don't know why. Doing 1776 with Jimmy was almost painful every night because of it. If you've ever tried to keep from laughing in church, you know exactly the kind of pain I'm talking about. I sort of moved into writing a lot of plays and Jim, of course, became a few years later one of the most sought after musical theatre leading men in the country, doing mafor roles in Broadway's Carousel, Jane Eyre, A Tale of Two Cities, Assassins, Beauty and the Beast and many others. And somehow, without planning it, we both ended up in Los Angeles, 22 years later, living about five minutes from each other. In fact, we're co-teaching a workshop this November in NoHo.
John Bader has been a close friend even longer. Right after I graduated undergraduate school in Springfield, MO, I travelled to Iowa, of all places, to a little dung hole of a theater called The Old Creamery, run by a psychopath of an artistic director. John and I were both doing our Equity Internship there at the same time. That was October of 1984. We ended up going on a bus and truck tour of the show The Fantasticks, with me as El Gallo and John as The Man Who Dies. We both ended up moving to NYC at approximately the same time and over the course of the next fifteen years drinking most of the beer and tequila in that city. In fact, John ended up directing my first produced play in New York called Changing It To Brando. He moved to Los Angeles in 1999 and lives about ten minutes from me now in the other direction. John went on to do about 100 commercials out here, a few films, some TV shows (most notably a long stretch on the network series, The Practice) and a couple of plays. He, like Jim, is a very, very good actor. One of the best I know, in fact. It's funny, but I seem to be incapable of being close friends with bad actors. All of my best buds are really good at what they do. I'm sure that says something about me, just not sure what.
So those are the two guys standing up with me in Sherman Oaks this Sunday. And I couldn't be happier about it.
John has organized a Bachelor's Party of sorts for this Friday night. Seeing how neither of us drink anymore, we'll probably be in bed by ten that night. We're heading over to a bowling alley with a group of my closest friends out here on the west coast, John, Jim, Brad Blaisdell, Brad Greenquist, Joe Hulser, Jim Petersmith and Rob Arbogast, all incredibly talented actors. It's shaping up to be a fun night.
Afer the small ceremony (yes, I've written the vows myself) we're heading back here to the cottage to have a big dinner party, about 25 people or so. Angie's friend, Tammy Lipps, a professional caterer here in LA, is doing the whole spread. She's been written up in lots of magazines and stuff for her work and it promises to be a very tasty afternoon. Lots of old friends are coming over and a few new ones, too. It seems I was nearly the last of my generation of actors to make the move to LA. We all started out in NY years ago, and one by one made the journey west. I guess I sort of did, but I had a decade-long, pit-stop in Chicago.
I have to teach this workshop and finish filming the little movie I'm doing now, so our honeymoon is going to have to wait a bit. But when we have the time our plan is to simply rent an RV and take out on the open road for a couple of weeks stopping off at places like The Grand Canyon (Old Dean Martin joke: Í went to the Grand Canyon yesterday and it was closed!) and Vegas (oddly, I've never been). We decided on this because we wanted to take our dogs, Franny and Zooey, with us. Plus, I've always had a sort of obsessive preoccupation with RVs. Don't know why. I just like the idea of a mobile "fort," I guess, like when I was a kid. We went to look at some awhile back and we think we've found the perfect one: a 28 footer that looks like a small, upper west side apartment on the inside without the great view.
So after nearly a year of talking about it, we're finally doing the deed. Getting married.
How do you make God laugh? Tell him your plans.
See you tomorrow.
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