January 7, 2009
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Practice Makes Perfect
Well, not perfect exactly. But, dear readers, we have a show. Yes, I know, I have hardly been Panglossian about our process here. But who wants to read a bunch of hyperbole huh? I mean when I say things suck, you can bet dollars to donuts they suck. (Come to think of it, it's getting to the point where betting a dollar to get a donut may be a good payout. But enough of the financial meltdown.) But also you can trust the good Dr. to let you know when things are getting better and are approaching good; that's where we are now. Last night there were more than a few moments of inspiration. They're still fragmented, there are still moments of terror and cluelessness, BUT they are so much more spread out and sometimes even not noticeable.
I know this usually happens. I also know I've been particularly whiney about this show but, OH MAMA! When I originally got the part, I looked at the script in abject terror. What had I gotten into? It reminds me of when I was fat and drunk (see photo) in the bad old days, and I decided to clean up my act, so to speak, by exercising; lifting weights. Now, at the time, even though I was a much younger man, I was weak! I went into the gym and I could barely bench press the naked Olympic bar (45 lbs.) for repetition. I was mortified. Teenagers used to kick sand in my face (and this was no mean feat in a gym. They had to first bring the sand in...you get the picture.) At any rate, it was daunting. But I persevered. Slowly, with practice, I added plate after plate. I became, in time, a veritable Colossus; a titan among, well...psychologists. It got to the point where I could press 290 lbs. for repetition!
So it has been for Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf. At first, my acting muscles were so weak from musical comedy and farce that I could barely lift a sneer. I struggled week after week to add gravitas and color. I fed Tums and Mylanta to Lou, our erstwhile director, while I went home and nursed my wounds by studying the nuanced delivery of Yosemite Sam. BUT! I now feel strong. My emotive muscles are bulging (wanta see?) I can feel something coursing through my body. I think it's energy! Or perhaps the Taco Grande' I had for lunch. But no matter! I am energized and along with me I feel the coming to life of, what's her name...Martha; and the kids, the kids! They look to us with that look of pure wonderment and awe as if to say, "What the fuck are you guys doing?" In short, it's almost opening and I'm alive, ALIVE I TELL YOU!! AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
