Busy, busy, busy...

More blocking yesterday.  All day.  Although, I must admit, it was a great rehearsal.  We're getting into 'crunch time' despite the inordinantly long rehearsal period.  This is a show that swings every club in the bag.  High comedy to kitchen sink drama to flat-out farce.  It's quite a journey, to say the least.

Yesterday was especially beneficial to me (aside from the very necessary blocking, of course) because it gave me a place to start, physically speaking, with this very long and very hard song, Zero's Confession.  Until yesterday, I didn't quite know what Ron had in mind for it.  Now I do, and I must say, it's absolutely riveting.  In fact, it's such a powerful image, I won't even write about it.  Don't wanna ruin the sight of it if someone comes to see this.

Also got to sing it while blocking it, which was very helpful. 

Long day today.  Meeting with the director and producer of From the East to the West this morning, we're blocking out one of the scenes for the cameras.  Then an audition for a short film this afternoon and then, of course, rehearsal all night. 

I was asked to send, via email, some photographic images of myself to our graphic designer for the show this past weekend.  She is in Europe and yesterday sent back our flyer/poster for the show.  She's done a very striking, yet unflattering likeness of me for it.  I'll post it as soon as it's completed.

Tons more to write about today, but I'm afraid I'm pressed for time.  I'll catch up tomorrow. 

See you then.

Ah, Blocking.

After a long blocking rehearsal yesterday, Angie and I came home and behaved quite shamelessly infantile by eating hotdogs and tater tots and watching cartoons. 

Now, make no mistake, when I say 'cartoons' I don't mean The Jetsons or Josie and the Pussycats.  Oh, no.  We had netflixed a few films that we'd never seen, only heard about.  The first was an absolutely wonderful little movie called 'Up.'

The film is unapologetically manipulative.  And that's not a knock.  I like films that are unapologetically manipulative.  Serious film people apparently don't.  I think that's a Scorcese-influenced line of thought, however.  I don't see anything in the world wrong with manipulating an audience. 

'Up' is a small film, animated, of course, about an old man who has lost his wife, his passion for life, his reason for living in the complicated world of today and so decides to take a trip to South America in memory of his daredevil, late spouse.  He ties thousands of balloons to his house and just floats there on the winds.  He accidentally takes a young boy scout with him.  Zaniness ensues.  And that's about all I can say about it without spoiling the whole thing.  Except to say I cried three times during the movie.  That's a lot for me.  And I laughed out loud a lot, too.  It's a quirky little movie and I recommend it highly.

Back in rehearsal today.  Not a lot to say about these rehearsals.  We're blocking.  And blocking is blocking.  Not terribly exciting.  Certainly necessary.  But it is what it is.  Everybody does it differently.  Ron tends to veer toward the 'trial and error' approach.  When I direct, I like to speed through the blocking and then start fixing, molding and shaping.  Others I know have an 'organic' approach.  That is to say, let the actors do what 'feels' right.  That can be a bit risky because sometimes you have actors that don't like to work that way.

I have, on occasion, worked with a group of top-flight actors who, quite literally, block themselves.  And if one is blessed with the right actors, often times they come up with blocking that's better than what was initially planned anyway.  Usually takes some real veterans to make that work, however.

Back to the drawing board today.  Blocking and discussing.  I was a little amused yesterday because Kelly (playing my wife in the play) was offering lots of input (all quite sensible, I might add) and at one point looked at me and said something like, "Do you have an opiniion on any of this?"  I had remained silent up to this point.  The truth is, I did have an opinion, but what I didn't have was an insight into Ron's overall concept yet.  So to add my two cents would be entirely based on what I wanted to do.  So it's all moot at this point.  It doesn't matter what I want.

So more of the same today.  It's all part of the process.

Angie is sitting in temporarily as AD (assistant director) until someone can be hired for that job.  The former AD had to step out of the project because of conflicts.  I think she's having fun doing it.  She's been out of the theater biz for a long time (she's been a casting director for film and TV for many years now) so I think she's kind of amused to be doing it again.  When she first moved out to Southern California a couple of decades ago, her first professional job was with The Old Globe Theater in San Diego.  I don't think she's really dabbled in theater work since then.

So...

See you tomorrow.

Last Tango in Los Angeles: Singing as Zero.

Last Tango in Los Angeles: Singing as Zero.: "We sang/read thru the entire show last night. 'Twas not bad. Not great, but not bad. I'm speaking for myself, of course. Others may have..."

Singing as Zero.

We sang/read thru the entire show last night.  'Twas not bad.  Not great, but not bad.  I'm speaking for myself, of course.  Others may have felt differently.  I wasn't quite prepared to do so, but Ron wanted to hear the whole thing out loud and so...well, that's what we did.  I made a decision to do the whole thing in character, that is to say, not to worry about my voice and its peculiarities, but to go ahead and sing the show, as much as possible, anyway, in the persona of Mr. Zero.  I think it may have been a good decision. 

I'm sitting here trying to think of how to explain the difference, for the lay reader, between 'Clif's voice' and 'Zero's voice.'  Musically speaking, of course, there is no difference...either I know the notes, the rhythms, the meter, the tone, the placement, the harmonies, etc., or I don't.   But mentally, there's a difference.  Now, admittedly, I'm light years away from 'finding' Zero.  (Quick insertion here for those just tuning in - Mr. Zero is the character I'm playing in the brilliant new musical Adding Machine at The Odyssey Theater in Los Angeles.)

Anyway, back to the difference in my mindset last night.  I made a thousand mistakes, most small, some large.  But I kept moving on.  At the most I'd get a quick 'eyebrow raise' from Alan (musical director).  But the thing I'm trying to convey here, I suppose, is that I was not struck by lightning, the beams of the theater didn't fall on me, Alan or Ron didn't shoot me straight away with a concealed revolver, the other performers didn't get up and walk out in disgust, none of that.  We just moved on.  Now, I know this sounds like a rookie observation.  But honestly, it was enormously beneficial for me to sing and act through the whole damn thing without stopping or grieving over what I'd just done wrong.

And on the bright side, I did a few things right.  Not many, but a few.

And also, I found some things.  Moments, beats, thoughts that don't occur to me as "Clif" came to me last night as "Zero."  Nebulous, to be sure.  But it's true.  All of this sounds terribly 'actor-y,' I know, but it was a real epiphany of sorts last night for me. 

And, as I suspected all along, I was exhausted by the end of the show.  And that's just standing there and singing and acting...not even doing it full out. 

Today the blocking continues where we left off.  I still don't have a full visual idea of how some of it is going to work.  Which is odd, because usually I can 'see' the whole thing in my head almost immediately and thus plan my performance accordingly.  Not so with this this piece.  There are some transitions and musical interludes in the show that quite frankly I have no idea what's going on. 

In any event, I'm having a really great time doing this.  The next hurdle will be memorization and I suspect it's going to be really difficult.  We have a ten day break over the holiday and I'll be working on this piece every single day. 

Angie and I are heading back to Missouri for the break.  I love hanging out with her family.  They're good people.  It will be a very 'family' kind of Christmas.  My own childhood Christmas memories usually involved lots of whiskey and shouting and drama, so it will be nice to establish new Christmas memories with her and her family.  This 'being married' gig is turning out to be pretty cool. 

See you tomorrow.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back...

Last night in rehearsal I was yet again reminded of the extraordinary level of talent I'll be onstage with in Adding Machine.  Kelly Lester, playing Mrs. Zero, my wife in the play, once again set the tone for the rehearsal by singing a couple of duets with me.  And I use the term 'with me' loosely.  Kelly sings a song and there may or may not be someone singing with her.  If there is someone singing with her no one really notices because she's an absolute vocal juggernaut.  I told her last night she was a 'freak of nature' (in a good way).  And she is. 

Then Rob Herring took over and sang his numbers.  Rob is up for an Ovation Award this year (that's LA's version of The Tony) for his work earlier in the season on Sondheim's Sweeny Todd.  He sort of 'let loose the dogs of war' last night and blew the roof off the place.  Rob and Kelly both are that rare combination of performer that sing and act at the highest possible level.

And then Christine Horn, playing my mistress in the play, Daisy, sang her songs and had everyone weeping uncontrollably.  Well, perhaps not uncontrollably, but I think it fair to say, her voice is so beautiful everyone in the room was visibly moved.  Christine has just come off a two-year national tour of The Lion King.  She's really quite breathtaking onstage.  She possesses a remarkably pure insturment.  Quite stunning, really.

And then I sang.  Or rather, I croaked through my stuff.  I told Angie last night after rehearsal that it's really joltingly clear I'm not in the same league as these guys, vocally speaking.  Fortunately, the piece is written that way, sort of.  And I stress 'sort of.'  My character has a buttload of stuff to sing, so it's not as if they can carry me. 

Toward the end of the play, I have a couple of musical segments to warble through.  I've spent so much time working on my big number, Zero's Confession, that I've neglected the other stuff to a certain extent.  Yesterday I worked on those later numbers here at home, singing them through about 112 times.  Naturally, once I got to rehearsal and started singing them it was as though I'd never heard them.  Oy.  Very frustrating. 

So I left rehearsal last night in a snit.  At myself, that is.  Alan Patrick Kenny, our unflagging musical director, is being terribly kind and encouraging toward me and my efforts.  He assures me there's nothing to worry about...yet.  Ron Sossi, our director for this astonishing piece of theatre, has clearly taken a calculated risk by casting an 'actor who sings' rather than a 'singer who acts.'. 

There's nothing to do except re-double my efforts today.  Back to the drawing board.  I reminded myself last night that the reason I took this role initially was because for the first time in years I had serious doubts as to whether I could even DO the damned thing.  I'm so used to being the 'hired gun' on a play, that I've almost forgotten what it's like to struggle with the material.  Well, last night it became clear to me all over again that this material is not within easy reach.  I'll be perfectly honest...I'd forgotten what it's like to be scared. 

Rehearsal starts today for the film version of my play, From the East to the West.  Following that, I'll be back at work on this music.  I'll do it and do it and then do it again.  Repitition is indeed the soul of art.  I will learn to sing every single note of this score as though no one has ever sung it before.  I shall 'compose it on the spot' as Alan says.  I will work as hard as I can and if that's not enough I'll work harder.  And if all else fails, I'm close to the 405 and I can always just step in front of a big truck.

See you tomorrow.

Last Tango in Los Angeles: Blocking Rehearsal.

Last Tango in Los Angeles: Blocking Rehearsal.: "Blocking rehearsal last night. Generally speaking, one of the more tedious nights of the rehearsal process. Last night didn't feel that w..."

Blocking Rehearsal.

Blocking rehearsal last night.  Generally speaking, one of the more tedious nights of the rehearsal process.  Last night didn't feel that way, however.  Ron Sossi, the veteran director and Los Angeles theater legend, is helming the piece.  Ron probably wouldn't appreciate being called a 'Los Angeles theater legend,' but he really is.  He's also, thank heavens, an incredibly astute director. 

Before the opening readthru of the script, the table rehearsal, Ron said something I liked very much.  He said, and I'm paraphrasing, "When I was younger I used to plan a show out meticulously; blocking it on paper, finding the beats, doing all the paper work that they teach in school these days...now I just kind of throw everything up against a wall and see what sticks."

He wasn't just whistling Dixie.  That's what we did last night.  I love that.  Try this, try that, discard that, keep that, give this moment a chance, try it a different way, etc.  Love it.

Years ago I did a play called The Dropper at a new play festival in the south.  Good play, actually.  Written by Ron McClarty.  In addition to myself, there was an actor in the cast that was 81 years old.  I loved sitting and talking to him for hours and hours.  He had been a stage actor all his life.  He'd worked with everyone, including Sir John Gielgud once.  He said that on the first day of blocking the play he was doing, Gielgud said to the cast, "I wouldn't bother writing any of this down.  Everything will change in a week or so.  And don't bother writing that down, either, because it will change yet again before we open.  In fact, if I were you, I'd ignore me altogether for awhile."  I kind of got that feeling from Ron last night.  He steadfastly refuses to 'set' anything.   He's been doing this a long, long time and he clearly understands something I tell my students all the time, "There is no right or wrong in the theatre, there is only what works and what doesn't work."

I also appreciate his complete lack of 'offstage drama.'  You can't be in this business as long as he has and still take everything so seriously.  I'm reminded of a story of Hitchcock working with Kim Novak on a film.  Ms. Novak had apparently been taking a few classes at the actor's studio with Lee Stasberg and was becoming quite uppity about her 'art.'   Now, Kim Novak, even at her best, was nothing to write home about.  So there was a moment in the filming when Hitchcock asked her to walk from the door to the table.  She refused to do it.  Said there was no motivation to do so.  Said she could only do it if Hitchcock explained her intentions to her.  So Hitchcock allegedly pulled her aside and said, very softly, "Kim, dear.  It's only a movie."

That is precisely the vibe Ron Sossi gives off as a director.  And personally, I couldn't be happier about it.

Tomorrow rehearsals start for the filming of my play, From the East to the West.  Shooting commences next Thursday.  Nice.

See you tomorrow.

Last Tango in Los Angeles: The First Plateau.

Last Tango in Los Angeles: The First Plateau.: "An eye-opening rehearsal last night, to say the least. This is my 112th professional, Equity production as an actor. And over the course o..."

The First Plateau.

An eye-opening rehearsal last night, to say the least.  This is my 112th professional, Equity production as an actor.  And over the course of those shows I'd like to think (although sometimes I'm not so sure) I've learned some things.  One thing I always wait for in the rehearsal process, and it nearly always happens, is what I like to call the 'first plateau.'  It usually happens about two weeks into rehearsal (for non-musicals, usually a little earlier).  This is when the cast has a rehearsal that finally gives everyone a glimpse of what is possible.  It's a heady feeling.  This is what happened last night. 

One of my co-stars in this piece is a remarkably talented actress named Kelly Lester.  She, like myself I'm surmising, has a long history in this silly little business.  And in this play, she, too, has a brutally long and complicated song.  Her major song comes at the top of the show, right out of the gate.  Mine is about halfway through.  So when the curtain metaphorically goes up, the first thing the audience will see and hear is Kelly.  And as anyone who's done musical theater can tell you, it's crucial, absolutely crucial, to knock 'em out immediately. 

Kelly's song, even more so than mine, I dare say, is a combination of impossible range, intensely complicated rhythms and complex counting on the part of the actor.  Kelly came in last night and hit it out of the park on the first swing.  During the break I told her, completely sincerely, "You've just set the bar impossibly high for the rest of us."  I meant it.  It was a dazzling display of virtuoso talent.  Even Alan (Alan Patrick Kenny, our encyclopedic musical director, himself unbelievably talented) normally somewhat subdued during rehearsal, was whooping with excitement.  I am not, at least vocally, involved in the first number, so I only had to sit and listen to it.  Our ensemble nailed it right along with her.  Alan has said a couple of times in this process thus far, "Musical theater at it's very best must appear as though the actor is composing the score 'on the spot.'"  Well, that's what it looked like.  It is, and will be, a tour de force for her.  I often tell my students that a play is only as good as its weakest actor.  I hope I'm not getting ahead of myself here, but I honestly don't think we need worry about that with this piece.  There simply are no 'weak' actors. 

The next 'plateau' will probably occur during the sitzprobe, which is German for 'sit and sing.'  That has been my experience, anyway.  We'll continue along on this current path, working at this high level of expectation, that is to say, and I suspect the next time we all jump to a higher plane will be when the orchestra is present and we all hear the fullness of the score underneath us.  That day is always tremendously exciting.  I remember the second time I did Camelot I did it with an orchestra of about twenty-five musicians.  We were all in an acoustically perfect rehearsal hall in Pennsylvania and when the music (remember, we had been used to working with simply a piano) and the strings swelled beneath us, it was a little bit of magic.  Always works that way.  I've done a play called 1940's Radio Hour a total of six times around the country.  That play, as the title would suggest, is all about jazz/swing music from the forties.  The first time the cast works with the onstage full orchestra, complete with swinging brass, it's electric.  Every single time. 

So, we're finally off and running.  Off and flying, actually.  The rest of the evening went well, too.  I was even a little happy with my massive number, Zero's Confession.  There are still spots in the song that concern me deeply (there are two moments in which I'm compelled to sing high Fs...and by the time I get to them they are, well, just not there) but I have some ideas.  I mentioned to Alan last night that I'd like to 'negotiate' with him about the spots in the song that I can emotionally express without actually singing.  He smiled and said, "Okay."  I think it will be up to me to demonstrate whether they can work or not. 

So, finally, a rehearsal yesterday I didn't walk away from in angst.  I knew it would happen, I just didn't know when. 

See you tomorrow. 

Last Tango in Los Angeles: Attacking the Script.

Last Tango in Los Angeles: Attacking the Script.: "There are fleeting, secret moments during the rehearsal of this play in which I think to myself, 'This play is not do-able. At least not p..."