Letters to Holly

Friday, January 26

Day Twenty-Nine: Brush-Up

We're just running lines tonight, sitting around the green room table. Ten of us, sans kids, simply saying lines with little acting. We're itching to make a short night of it. And we do. Starting a little after 7, we finish around 8:30. That includes stops. Big Daddy discovers he must walk around to deliver his lines. Mae has some trouble. The reverend reads his lines before delivering them, and the doctor again gets lost in his Act III dialogue. Big Mama has some small stumbles, but she rights herself. Me? Shit, I can rattle off my lines monotone in under five minutes. Remember the fast talker in the '80s Fed Ex commercials? It sounds like that. The brush-up reminds us just how much Maggie carries Act I, and she rightfully puts her head down to rest as we move to Act II.

We talk a bit about who's coming to see the show. Big Daddy says a friend's children were turned away by an overzealous box-office volunteer. The stage manager assures him that won't happen again. Mae says her in-laws are arriving this weekend to watch, but they're practically deaf. Daddy also recollects that when he did this play in the midwest over the past 30 years, some of the cast didn't know what "poontang" (which Big Daddy yells in Act II) was. Did they cast a whole ensemble of Radar O'Reillys?

We find out the reviewer for the Asheville daily saw the show on Sunday, not Thursday, after all. And we're told the review will run Friday morning.

And here it is:

Asheville Community Theatre plumbs the depths of family conflict and hypocrisy with Tennessee Williams’ intense drama “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.”

Charles H. Bell III is unforgettable as “Big Daddy” Pollitt, a Mississippi Delta tycoon whose family gathers to celebrate his 65th birthday and release from the hospital. Beneath all the birthday hoopla they have a serious purpose, to tell Big Daddy and his wife Big Mama (Cary Nichols) that he is dying of cancer.
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And family members are already scrambling to get control of Big Daddy’s fortune and his sprawling 28,000-acre plantation.

Oldest son Gooper (Gregory Dickens), an attorney, proclaims that he should head the family empire rather than his brother Brick (Dan Clancy), a former star athlete who now drowns his sorrows in alcohol.

Gooper’s scheming wife Mae (Lysa Kennedy) trots out their five children in a transparent attempt to win Big Daddy’s approval, while constantly pointing out that Brick and his wife remain childless.

Melissa Menard gives a mesmerizing performance as Brick’s sexy wife, Maggie, who writhes like “a cat on a hot tin roof” as she tries to break through Brick’s alcoholic haze of disgust and hate.

Nothing is as it seems. The fog of lies and deceit, or “mendacity” as Brick calls it, hangs heavy over this Mississippi mansion.

Director Leslie Muchmore and a talented cast manage to wrest the full impact of Tennessee Williams’ powerful story. Even if you saw the movie or other productions, this is a show worth catching.


OK, so this is technically a summary with a few subjective opinions. But that's what dailies do. It's possible 3/4 of this was written before he saw the play. I also think Big Mama was short-changed. Her reactions alone make Big Daddy's bluster less outrageously funny and more harsh and cruel. She does that with sharp delivery, and she deserves some laurels.

Previous entries:
Day One: Reading It Through
Day Two: Act Two
Day Three: Reading Act Two
Day Four: Talking It Through
Day Five: Blocking Act Two
Day Six: Act Two Redux
Day Seven: Reading Act Three
Day Eight: The Da Gooper Code
Day Nine: The Laying On of Hands
Day Ten: Pictures and Pages
Day Eleven: Onstage
Day Twelve: Memory
Day Thirteen: The Quickie
Day Fourteen: The Lines
Day Fifteen: Act III Anxiety
Day Sixteen: Let's Just Get It Right
Day Seventeen: Molding the Gooper
Day Eighteen: Goopercalypse
Day Nineteen: There Is Not A Doctor In The House
Day Twenty: Back to Words
Day Twenty-One: Getting Technical
Day Twenty-Two: We're Ready When You Are
Day Twenty-Three: Socks
Day Twenty-Four: Our First Audience
Day Twenty-Five: Calamity
Day Twenty-Six: Opening Night
Day Twenty-Seven: Second Night
Day Twenty-Eight: The Show You Saw

Thursday, January 25

Veni, vidi, vino

The threat of a snowstorm hovers over us to a greater extent than the so-far nonexistent storm. If it hits today, I might miss the rehearsal to brush up on our lines. It won't affect me directly -- I can recite all my lines rapid fire within five minutes -- but it might rattle the older actors. As I drove home, Your Sis called to ask if I could stop by the Mart of Wal to pick up notebook paper. Sure, I said, blithely ignorant that as this is the day new semesters start, that section of the store would be a jungle of kiddos. I swam through them to get the paper and fled the scene like a burgler. We reheated leftover spaghetti and ate pizza leftovers while chugging back a nice Yellow Tail Grenache mix. Then we watched "Six Feet Under," a show that improves with inebriation.

Oh, I also whipped her in "Jeopardy" once again. I shall soon tire of this tedium, one fears.

Picture of the Day
This was my first portable game system. Blip worked like Pong, except you pressed buttons to send the red pixel back to the opponent. This then-dazzling LED technology was still shackled to an analog timer that one wound like an old alarm clock. My parents enjoyed buy me games like this, apparently oblivious to the fact that I had no siblings. There were some board games I may have played twice because I couldn't find anyone to join me. Anyway, not to sound like a therapy patient or a troglodyte, but I'm still knocked out by current technology because I so clearly remember the state-of-the-art equipment we neighborhood kids used to marvel at.




In The News
The trial of Scooter Libby stays off the front pages, but it's starting to become interesting. This is the culmination of the investigation into the white House leak of a classified CIA agent identity in response her husband's criticism of the administration's allegations of WMD fabrication. Libby, Cheney's former chief of staff, is charged with perjury and obstruction -- hardly sexy headline material -- but of note is that former press secretary Ari Fleischer invoked the Fifth and later cut an immunity deal. The questions linger as to who in the White House knew Libby leaked the name and under whose authorization. Leaking a classified name is a felony, but Cheney cites a presidential signing statement affirming the right Bush or Cheney to instantly declassify any document simply by handing it to someone not cleared to read it. This sounds like a tacit admission of authorization and suggests who provided the name to Libby. Fleischer and his replacement Scot McClellan face scrutiny as to what they told reporters in briefings and whether they covered up for whoever was involved with the leak.

Wednesday, January 24

Pizza and the Prez

Working on a theatre show makes me eat less. While some folks gain weight in rehearsals by eating fast food before or after working the stage, I lose it. I eat a little so my stomach doesn't betray me during a scene. I also do this during performances. You may have noticed I wolfed down an entire pizza at Mellow Mushroom. I usually don't do that. Now that I'm away from the show for a few days, a man's thoughts turn to chowing down like a mofo. Your Sis thought she had laid out lasagna to thaw for dinner, but it was actually hot wings. We just had wings Monday for the traditional night of messy eats and rasslin', and I wanted a big meal. We made tracks for the phone, dialed up pizza delivery, and within a half-hour were up to our elbows in buttery cheese and bread. I even manged to get onto Guitar Hero and discovered it includes Matthew Sweet's "Girlfriend," only one of the best air-guitar songs evah. I was practically giggling as I played it.

And then I watched the State of the Union. Bush had a hard sell on his hands, and he delivered quite a nice explanation of why Iraq is a hellhole right now. But I think his level of detail undercut his argument for standing firm. If the region is a growing battlefield between Sunni and Shiite extremists, why should we expect a secular democracy to maintain stability? Saddam's Iraq worked because he was a tyrant, and we're selling a whole 'nother form of doing business in a region where an iron fist could be pretty damn handy right about now. Otherwise, the speech offered a lot of far-off deadlines for fuel alternatives, balanced budgets, and baby-boomer support programs. I liked the ending of the speech as Bush waited until the last five minutes to say the state was strong (usually occurs within the first five) and end the address on a high note.

This may have been his best speech since the 2004 convention, but he's hawking suspect merchandise with the meek accountability of a guy working on a countdown to Memoirville. Also, his choices for the annual roll call of Good Americans was weak: Dikimbe Mutombo, the founder of Baby Einstein, a quick-thinking construction worker, and the requisite military good ole boy hero. If there's anything to glean from the address, it was that Bush is well aware he owns a sinking minority stance on issues both foreign and domestic and needed a speech that would ask for help. He delivered it, doing no further harm but offering no greater notions. My biggest quibbles would be his alleged success stories of foiling further attacks such as the unfounded Los Angeles plot and the British liquid-explosive case that was thrown out of court for lack of evidence.

Picture of the Day
They brought the commercials back! Time to un-pimp yo auto!

Tuesday, January 23

Not The Rest I Was Hoping For

I spent all day Monday anticipating a relaxing night at home away from the show. As I drove home, Your Sis called me to ask if I would help her grade papers. That lasted from the time I got home to 9 p.m. There are better ways to unwind. For instance, I was hoping to play Guitar Hero again. Or go to the gym for a light workout. I'm a'feared of hurting myself in the middle of a show. I'll get back to running once the play's over. I've started collecting some ideas of mini-comics, and there is still the living-room painting to tackle.

I've got the Wailing Jenny's CD here at work along with 2 recent purchases: The Beatles' Love soundtrack for the Cirque de Soliel show, and the first Franz Ferdinand CD.

The Oscar nominations are out:

Performance by an actor in a leading role
Leonardo DiCaprio in “Blood Diamond” (Warner Bros.)
Ryan Gosling in “Half Nelson” (THINKFilm)
Peter O’Toole in “Venus” (Miramax, Filmfour and UK Council)
Will Smith in “The Pursuit of Happyness” (Sony Pictures Releasing)
Forest Whitaker in “The Last King of Scotland” (Fox Searchlight)

The presence of two black nominees will get headlines, but Gosling and O'Toole are nice additions to this list. From what I've heard, it's Whitaker's award.

Performance by an actor in a supporting role
Alan Arkin in “Little Miss Sunshine” (Fox Searchlight)
Jackie Earle Haley in “Little Children” (New Line)
Djimon Hounsou in “Blood Diamond” (Warner Bros.)
Eddie Murphy in “Dreamgirls” (DreamWorks and Paramount)
Mark Wahlberg in “The Departed” (Warner Bros.)

What surprises me in both categories is the absence of Matt Damon, the actor who owned The Departed. I wonder if there was confusion as to whether he was the lead actor. Murphy has the momentum, but Arkin made Sunshine a better film.

Performance by an actress in a leading role
Penélope Cruz in “Volver” (Sony Pictures Classics)
Judi Dench in “Notes on a Scandal” (Fox Searchlight)
Helen Mirren in “The Queen” (Miramax, Pathé and Granada)
Meryl Streep in “The Devil Wears Prada” (20th Century Fox)
Kate Winslet in “Little Children” (New Line)

I'm not sure if Streep can win for what's essentially a teenage girl-marketed comedy. Not that I'd mind. Mirren has been the early favorite for months now.

Performance by an actress in a supporting role
Adriana Barraza in “Babel” (Paramount and Paramount Vantage)
Cate Blanchett in “Notes on a Scandal” (Fox Searchlight)
Abigail Breslin in “Little Miss Sunshine” (Fox Searchlight)
Jennifer Hudson in “Dreamgirls” (DreamWorks and Paramount)
Rinko Kikuchi in “Babel” (Paramount and Paramount Vantage)

Breslin is the title character from Sunshine, and there's no way in hell she wins. She just didn't do enough to warrant the nod. Hudson is the critic's darling for the award.

Achievement in directing
“Babel” (Paramount and Paramount Vantage) Alejandro González Iñárritu
“The Departed” (Warner Bros.) Martin Scorsese
“Letters from Iwo Jima” (Warner Bros.) Clint Eastwood
“The Queen” (Miramax, Pathé and Granada) Stephen Frears
“United 93” (Universal and StudioCanal) Paul Greengrass

Scorsese is overdue.

Best motion picture of the year
“Babel” (Paramount and Paramount Vantage)
“The Departed” (Warner Bros.)
“Letters from Iwo Jima” (Warner Bros.)
“Little Miss Sunshine” (Fox Searchlight)
“The Queen” (Miramax, Pathé and Granada)

There will be a lot of talk about Dreamgirls' absence from this list in favor of Sunshine, a thin bomber-crew road comedy with a majority white cast. Sunshine is not the brilliant film everyone claims, and I can't see it winning. The Departed is the best film I saw this year, and Your Sis, who is hardly a film aficionado, agrees.

Picture of the Day
Sunspots through a filter.




In the News
Bush is to deliver his State of the Union tonight. He'll stand amid an opposition Congress and try to convince them to ignore their overwhelming mandate against the Iraq occupation. I also look forward to the catalog of pie-in-the-sky initiatives that pad out the last fifteen minutes of every SOTU.

+ + +

Dig this: Scientists have managed to store and retrieve an image on a photon. This means we can transfer information on light waves. Wowsers.

Monday, January 22

Day Twenty-Eight: The Show You Saw

I bought a new eyeliner pencil at CVS for $8. EIGHT BUCKS. I thought art supplies were expensive.

Two kids are out sick today, the youngest boy and the oldest girl. Without a sidekick to impress, the talky boy is eerily quiet. Maybe he's feeling ill too. He does have a nasty croupy cough today. The kids have practiced exchanging lines, and after a few practice drills in the green room, they're ready to replace the missing. The assistant stage manger orders us to wash our hands religiously today to keep us from catching the kid bug. Big Daddy even refuses to hug the girls, despite their cute smiles and wide arm spans.

The doctor can't figure out what happend last night, but I assure him we got it covered. We're told about half an hour after we report for duty that we can't use the regular parking space shared by the Thomas Wolfe House. Something about an agreement. But it's freezing cold outside, and no tourists are milling about for those parking spaces. I think it's silly, and I haven't dismissed the notion that one of those employees took my plate.

The crowd is the usual, older Sunday gang, and they're sedate throughout but they do applaud the set. They're too polite to really dig into the play; they chuckle instead of guffaw but feel attentive.

I discover that the recent stage-left staff changes are due to the lead assistant's obligation to present a speech to an intern program last night. She coached her replacement on Friday, and that person worked with an assitant Saturday, hence the phone-call timing shifts. But the initial assistant is back today, and everything runs smoothly. The reverend misses a line in Act III, but it doesn't affect my cue, and only we two realize it.

After the show, we take photos. Almost 30 shots are listed on the hand-out, and we start quickly. But right before, we sing happy birthday to the assistant managers on either side of the stage. It happens to their birthdays today. Cake is available but only after our photos. I count four people with cameras: one with a wide lens in the auditorium and three roving photographers. The hand-out tells us what scene the theatre wants a photo of, and we're instructed to act out a minute's worth until we're told to freeze. We do, and the photographers move about to get their pictures. After a show (and a week of shows), this is more tiring than you'd think. I only have to do about ten photos, and I'm ready to quit after three. It seems to take a long time to finish up each shot, and I get a little light-headed. Soon enough, I'm gone, and out the door. The stage manager tells us we're to meet up again Thursday to run lines, and that sounds years away from now.

I run down to the local pizzeria to meet y'all for dinner. It's a good end to the week, a good end to a lot of work. So much so that I can't imagine volunteering for another show when Your Dad asks when they can see me onstage again (not counting the next 2 weekends). That's something to worry about later. For now, I want to enjoy being away from the show, and I'll go back to it fresh after time away.


Previous entries:
Day One: Reading It Through
Day Two: Act Two
Day Three: Reading Act Two
Day Four: Talking It Through
Day Five: Blocking Act Two
Day Six: Act Two Redux
Day Seven: Reading Act Three
Day Eight: The Da Gooper Code
Day Nine: The Laying On of Hands
Day Ten: Pictures and Pages
Day Eleven: Onstage
Day Twelve: Memory
Day Thirteen: The Quickie
Day Fourteen: The Lines
Day Fifteen: Act III Anxiety
Day Sixteen: Let's Just Get It Right
Day Seventeen: Molding the Gooper
Day Eighteen: Goopercalypse
Day Nineteen: There Is Not A Doctor In The House
Day Twenty: Back to Words
Day Twenty-One: Getting Technical
Day Twenty-Two: We're Ready When You Are
Day Twenty-Three: Socks
Day Twenty-Four: Our First Audience
Day Twenty-Five: Calamity
Day Twenty-Six: Opening Night
Day Twenty-Seven: Second Night

I also had the Pats-Colts game on TiFaux, and we missed none of it. Well, I didn't. Your Sis hit the bed around the second quarter, but in her defense, the game appeared over with New England up 21-3. But then Indianapolis went to town with passing plays and took the lead with one minute left with a run. An interception 30 second later sealed it, and Payton Manning goes to the Super Bowl to face Da Bears. This should be a very good game.

Day Twenty-Seven: Second Night

Because we had a late night followed by a party that lasted well into the a.m., the director and thus the managers are worried about show energy. I worry about it for another reason: burnout. This is the eighth show of this week, and once I enter the green room, it feels like I never left. Also, there's a danger of becoming bored once you've proven to yourself that you can handle gaffes. The audience will smell that immediately and pull away from you. All the above threaten to mix tonight, and the director requests a high-energy warm-up session. That's great for the Act I leads who start the show onstage, but the rest of us barely sniff the stage for another hour. Sunday's show -- a dreaded matinée -- is much more likely to see us dragging.

My shirt has lost a button in the wash, but the costume commanders take care of it before the curtain goes up. One of Gooper's sons is chastised by his real mom to behave a certain way onstage, and the kid wrangler interrupts to say only the director gets to do that. My eyeliner pencil proves too soft to sharpen conveniently, and I notice Big Daddy has the perfect pencils for this, but I won't ask to use it. That's risking infections. So I'll have to say something I never thought I would: "Honey, can you buy me some eyeliner?"

Once the show starts, all seems well until the first offstage phone scene. There are three of them, one in each act, and since Thursday night, someone different has manned the button. The rings happen in different times and for different durations, and tonight, the Act I ring is super early and goes on for days. Big Mama heads toward the phone before her cue is spoken by another assistant. I don't understand why why the phone is given to people who can't be there for the entire run. I wonder what Gooper's phone cues would be like if I weren't standing right there to answer it. This is just one of the things we have to be ready to adapt to in front of everyone. Also, right at the end of Act II, as four guys and the stage-right manager start to sing "Pick a Bail of Cotton" onstage, the bar band across the street cranks up. We do not sing to the beat, but the doctors tries some pop-and-lock, I believe.

Speaking of which, the doctor botches his Act III lines as he gets distracted by, well, I'm not sure, but I think it's a cigar Big Daddy left onstage. The cigar is fake (we didn't smoke in the show, after all), and it sits in an ashtray in the very back of the set. Right as Mae, Gooper, and the doctor are to surround Mama about Daddy, the doc stays behind and fiddles with the cigar and misses his cue. I have my back to him. It's only later that I figure out what he's doing over there, but I wait for him to say his lines. And wait. And wait. Right as I'm about to pipe in, he starts up. But then he misses his second line, not ten seconds later. He's lost now. And Mae is covering for this until he finds his place and joins in the scene. After the show, the stage manager gives notes about the scene to the doctor and me, and the director talks to him about the moment. I didn't jump in quickly enough, I admit. That won't happen again.

A good crowd tonight. Tomorrow, we get the Blue Hairs and finish the week o'hell.


Previous entries:
Day One: Reading It Through
Day Two: Act Two
Day Three: Reading Act Two
Day Four: Talking It Through
Day Five: Blocking Act Two
Day Six: Act Two Redux
Day Seven: Reading Act Three
Day Eight: The Da Gooper Code
Day Nine: The Laying On of Hands
Day Ten: Pictures and Pages
Day Eleven: Onstage
Day Twelve: Memory
Day Thirteen: The Quickie
Day Fourteen: The Lines
Day Fifteen: Act III Anxiety
Day Sixteen: Let's Just Get It Right
Day Seventeen: Molding the Gooper
Day Eighteen: Goopercalypse
Day Nineteen: There Is Not A Doctor In The House
Day Twenty: Back to Words
Day Twenty-One: Getting Technical
Day Twenty-Two: We're Ready When You Are
Day Twenty-Three: Socks
Day Twenty-Four: Our First Audience
Day Twenty-Five: Calamity
Day Twenty-Six: Opening Night

Day Twenty-Six: Opening Night

Opening night begins with a mixed bag of traditions. People give gifts of various investments: Mae hands out candy, Mama hands out roses, the doctor has cat magnets bearing the names of each member of the show, the director gives out cards thanking and congratulating us. I plan to give out my items next week. My previous theatre handed out fridge magnets of a show's poster image and bearing a memorable quote on the back. I wanna continue that, and I'm working on new artwork of the magnet. The new managing director offers us all a glass of sparkling cider to toast our work. We're given a copy of the program with our bios and photos. The director officially turns over the show to the cast and crew, saying his work is done. It's a little party, and then we approach curtain time and settle down to work. During warm-ups and prop check, we discover the crew repainted the floor, and it's now a deeper black.

It's a great crowd (they applaud the SET!), and the previous night's string of chaos has got me ready to knock this one out of the park. This is when I remind myself that I have gotten roles in every show I've auditioned for, including walking off the street to get roles with three theatre companies. Deep breath, straighten the tie, check the hair and makeup. Overture, hit the lights, this is it, tonight's the night. And oh what heights we'll hit, on with the show this is it. Can you believe there's at least two generations of kids who never heard the theme music to CBS' Saturday morning Warner Brothers cartoon show? Wait a minute. You're one of them.

I have to admit that I'm starting to count down the days of the week now. We have two performances left after tonight, and we all murmur just how ready we are to have a break. But we must zap up our energy when we're onstage. During the show we trade notes backstage on reactions. Gooper seems to get the biggest laugh of the show when he insults mama in Act III. Big Daddy's profanity shocks them into laughter. Brick gets some laughs. The wealth is spread out, it seems. During an Act I fight scene Brick, unfortunately, lands mouth first on the foot of the bed. It's near the end of the act, and he ices his mouth before Act II. The Act II fight scene between Daddy and Brick spreads ice cubes on the floor and word quickly moves backstage to be careful. This is such a good crowd that we anticipate going back on stage for them. They catch a lot, and we can be more subtle.

Act III goes great. We run right past one of the reverend's lines, and I screw up a word, but otherwise, the energy is solid, and it flies by. The cast moves over to a downtown Indian restaurant for a small party. I walk out to my car right before to discover someone has stolen my license plate. I file a police report over the phone and walk to the party and find seated Your Sis, Kathy, and Travis. I had no idea they were coming tonight. I just unknowingly performed in front of them. I make introductions and sample some alky-hall and curry chicken.

It's a great night, and I can celebrate the start of the end of the production with my girl and my pals. I don't even care about the license plate.

Previous entries:
Day One: Reading It Through
Day Two: Act Two
Day Three: Reading Act Two
Day Four: Talking It Through
Day Five: Blocking Act Two
Day Six: Act Two Redux
Day Seven: Reading Act Three
Day Eight: The Da Gooper Code
Day Nine: The Laying On of Hands
Day Ten: Pictures and Pages
Day Eleven: Onstage
Day Twelve: Memory
Day Thirteen: The Quickie
Day Fourteen: The Lines
Day Fifteen: Act III Anxiety
Day Sixteen: Let's Just Get It Right
Day Seventeen: Molding the Gooper
Day Eighteen: Goopercalypse
Day Nineteen: There Is Not A Doctor In The House
Day Twenty: Back to Words
Day Twenty-One: Getting Technical
Day Twenty-Two: We're Ready When You Are
Day Twenty-Three: Socks
Day Twenty-Four: Our First Audience
Day Twenty-Five: Calamity