Dance Dance Revolution

Nothing historical occured last night that would change the course of human events, however we did manage to celebrate the birth of one radical chick extrodinaire.   A woman that lives her life in between glides and heel to toe grooves on the rigid hard wood floor that is the foundation of our living room.  A free spirit whose neck whips and hip circles are legendary for setting the air on fire.  In these days of economic hardship, nuclear omens, and weening polar bears what we need most some times is a good ole' fashion rump shake to expel the woes of modern middle middle America.  As we danced on into the night, well past the D.J.'s toleration I was reminded of one simple thing.  Louisa Sargent can kick your ass.  Happy Brrfday Lou.

About not Me

After two weeks of running the most storied play in the history of drama I couldn't be more grateful for the opportunity to have worked with such an incredible director, cast, and one man crew (the unsung hero that is Bryan Luabenthal [though I'm sure I butchered his name]).  

It's been a long wild and weird journey up to this point.  The best part of this process has been the development of the show over the past two weeks.  This story is truly organic and every night, if we're open to the spirit of the tale, we're granted another unique gift.  Last Saturday I felt like a child on Christmas eve peeking down the stairs to see the acts of love wrapped in shiny paper topped with bows and bells.  Centuries old language delivered with passion and grit by all the members of this cast, especially Jeff's truly unique, and as DTLine stated "everyman" Hamlet.  There was a new found sense of joy and wonder for the play.  I rediscovered my true love for the theater, and the people it takes to make it happen.

During the course of work on a production, especially once the run has began, it's easy for an actor to be distracted by reviews, friends and family in the audience, living up to expectations, and just plain "acting good."  I found myself conscious of the quality of my performance.  Trying to create the same performance twice, is like one of my professors has always said "recreating an orgasm." I began judging myself while in the middle of scene.  "That sounded awkward. . . that was forced . . . why aren't I connecting."  

A friend was in the audience after one night, and I asked her what she thought.

"It was great, the whole production."

"What'd you think of me."

"You were good."

"Can you be more specific?  What wasn't good?  I want to improve."

Be careful what you ask for.

"You didn't have any energy in your hands.  The energy was going out through the ground instead of out at us . . . There was one part when you were on the ground where I thought 'oh, he's a person."

*GASP*

These are principles of a performer I thought I had long been aware of, but criticism struck a chord.  I knew I wasn't hitting notes, and it was because I was failing to play.  You can do all the background work on text, character, story, masticate the language, and bury it deep inside your gut, but if you don't let loose and start riffing the work will only amount to a paint by numbers performance.  Red here, blue there, green all over the edges.  Not just that.  I had become self centered, internal.  It was a difficult week for me in many ways, which I won't touch on in this first blog, and I had been thinking about myself instead of making the other people around me more important.  

For the past five years theater has been, and remains, the love of my life.  She's a tender, humbling, occasionally cruel, and always, demanding mistress.  On every page of this chapter I've reminded myself, "it's not about me."  I've told this to students of mine, colleagues and mentors.  It's a way of taking all the pressure off.  An actor can't worry about how they're doing, all they can do is give graciously from their heart with love, discipline, and care.  I ask to be made a servant to the cast, the director, the crew, the audience, the playwright, and the story.  I ask to be made a vessel for the story that is impelled to reveal itself. If an actor can get out of their own way, trust the work they have done, and let loose like a great jazz musician, or a california boy on the waves, I believe they'll never go wrong.

I thank everyone who has gone along on this trip with me, helped me with my ticket, and kicked me in the caboose when I wanted to jump off the train.  You all hold a very special place in my heart, now and always.