Spirit of Christmas Pants

(From an actual Christmas Eve conversation.) MOM: I've never been one to pry. ME: I've always appreciated that. MOM: But I couldn't help notice you have a pair of shiny silver pants in the back seat of your car. ME: They're for a show. MOM: Oh. (beat) What kind of show? ME: It's a kind of science-fiction/comedy thing. MOM: (skeptically) I see. ME: Look, don't judge the pants without seeing the rest of the outfit, OK? MOM: You aren't going to wear them on the street, are you? ME: They're for a show!

Take a Trip With Me

A friend kindly pointed out that if I want people to attend my current performance, I should provide some information about it. The show is called Holidaze, and I appear as a larger-than-life character in a wild and crazy sketch called "The Day Tripper." It's whacky, zany stuff that the opening-night audience ate up with a spoon.

Fridays at 8 p.m. through Jan. 13
Second Stage
431 N. Brookhurst
Suite 140
Anaheim, CA
(714) 502-2249
http://tinyurl.com/4o7c6

Not So Tiny, Now

A Christmas Carol closed just in time. Tiny Tim, who was pregnant, got harder to carry every week. But I'll sure miss it. It was a great cast and an exciting production to be part of, and although I wasn't the star I got to exercise my chops in a lot of ways: broad comedy, high drama, heavy exposition, even a little singing and dancing. (Although I'm no threat to... uh, you know, that famous singing, dancing, acting guy.) The best show was probably the one we did for a theater full of sixth-graders. I wasn't sure they'd appreciate our faithful telling of this old story, but they laughed without inhibition at the humor and were utterly silent during the dramatic scenes, except for the sniffles. I'd like to think we touched a few of them, but it is cold and flu season. We also had a large group of high-school students (and high-school students do seem larger than ever). I think they were there for extra credit, but even they were very attentive. Maybe there was going to be a quiz afterward, but I like to think we reached them--us and that Dickens guy.

Unorthodox Christmas

I've just taken a role in another holiday show. Holidaze will open Dec. 23, a scant week after Carol closes, and continue well after even Orthodox Christmas is over. Oh, well, if my father can leave the artificial tree up all year, I guess I can do this. Keep the badnjak burning!

Two Little Words

In case you're still wondering, this is a blog of me, by me, and for me. I am my own principal author, chief topic, and target audience. But just to prove I'm not entirely self-centered, I will devote a large chunk of this entry to the opinions of someone else, namely, Press-Telegram theater critic John Farrell: "Keith Bush is a warmly believable Bob Cratchit." OK, so "warmly believable" isn't exactly "stunningly brilliant," but it was nice to see it in print this morning, nonetheless. I didn't know if he'd mention me, or what he'd write if he did. Of all the words he might have chosen, those weren't bad. The first thing the director told me about the character was that warmth was the key to making it work. And Cratchit is so different from me and the range of emotion so great, believability was a big concern of mine. Oh, John also wrote several hundred words that didn't directly concern me. Some highlights: "The sheer complexity of the production is worth the admission price. Nine actors fill the piece's 38 roles.... [Bart Shattuck] has the presence and range to make Scrooge believable, whether he is being penurious, frightened half to death by the ghosts that visit him or gleefully happy when he finally discovers Christmas.... The rest of the cast proves its versatility in quick scene changes, faster costume changes and the ability to use the limited space of the Black Box to full effect. Brando Cutts is perhaps the king of the fast change in this production. He goes from the white ghost of Marley to a storybook genie to three other roles, including the Ghost of Christmas Present, in what seems like less time than it takes to tell about the changes.... Zavanna DeLaRoca is delightful as Tiny Tim.... a homey (and professional) telling of a great story, much of it in the author's rich language. If Christmas is a time for simple pleasures (and it is, despite all the advertising to the contrary), this is exactly the kind of show that brings those pleasures home. Nothing spectacular, nothing too fancy, just a rich and pleasant eveninng for family and those who love Dickens."

Shirley Says, "Float"

Yesterday evening, Shirley MacLaine told me that when she first came to California, she was more interested in the fashions and the climate than in becoming a serious actress. I didn't buy it. Surely someone doesn't make that many films, win that many awards and reach that level of fame without relentless struggle. She explained "The Law of Inverse Effort" to me. If you're at sea and you thrash around in a panic, you drown. If you relax and float, you survive. Then, she caught me off guard by asking me about my goals. I shyly talked a little about how I felt about acting and how I denied it to myself for years and only pursued it recently because I'm "beyond humiliation." She congratulated me and said it takes some people a lot longer to reach that point. The truth is, I still get self-conscious, embarrassed, mortified even, but I don't let it stop me from doing what I want to do. After all, life has thrown much worse things at me, with far less of a payoff. So I'll stretch myself, take risks, sing a little song, do a little dance, even wear a funny wig, and just maybe I'll help somebody think about things a little differently or forget their troubles for a while. If nothing else, maybe they'll feel better about themselves because they aren't signing the song, dancing the dance, wearing the wig, and I guess that's OK too. Let them take from it what they will, what they can, what they need. I'm just floating with the currents and feeling fine.

Why Haven't You Called?

I had fun. I thought you did too. Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said? Were you only pretending to like me? Did you want to see how far I would go? Was it just some kind of game to you? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like that. It’s just, I think we could have had something really special. We still can, if you’ll pick up the phone and call. OK, maybe it’s too soon. Maybe you’ll call in a couple of days. But why not now? I mean, if you want me, why do we have to play around like that? Don’t you want me? What’s wrong with me? If you let me know, I’ll fix it. I know I came on sort of strong, but I just wanted it so badly. I’ll take it at your pace, be whatever you want me to be. Or did you decide to go with someone younger? Better-looking? How can you be so shallow? If you give me a chance, you’ll see how happy I can make you. I know I’ll never hear from you again. You forgot all about me as soon as that other one walked in the room. Don’t think I didn’t notice. So that’s your type? Whatever. You’re all the same. No, I didn’t mean it. Maybe you don’t realize how much I care. Maybe I should call you, just to say thanks and wish you the best. What am I thinking? That would probably creep you out and I’d lose whatever chance I have. Do I have a chance? Why don’t you call? I don’t need you anyway. I’ll find someone else who wants me. Someone who'll give me something deeper and more meaningful than cheap thrills and good times. You’ll see. Are you going to call or not? (Yeah, the audition is fun, but the next day sucks!)

I Like Auditions!

An audition is just a compressed, accelerated little performance--a chance to connect with an audience (albeit a small, critical one), and maybe make someone laugh or even move them a little. If that doesn't work, hopefully I've learned something, or at least had a chance to hone my skills. So I've auditioned thrice in the past eight days, even though my current play has a few weeks left to run. A stitch in time, idle hands, yadda yadda. Each time, I've felt that same rush of adrenaline that comes from actually doing a show. Kim beamed with joy and told me I was amazing. Kelly laughed out loud at all the right places and thanked me profusely. Neither one of them gave me a role. (Talk's cheap, Kim and Kelly! Actions speak louder than words! Don't make me hurl more cliches at you!) Tonight I auditioned for a part I wasn't even sure I wanted in a production that sounded a little sketchy, but once I got started I gave it 100 percent. By the end I was in love with the character and the project, and I think the director felt pretty good about me. I certainly projected, emoted and took possession of the stage, which I think is what was called for--no subtle introspection here. People who know me as the quiet guy who spends the whole party standing in a corner nursing a beer and holding a plate full of those little quiches would not have recognized me. So I was feeling pretty good until the director asked me to dance -- just a couple of steps, she said. But then she added more, and more, and more.... No one told me I'd be dancing. I never said I could dance. And in the end, I'm not sure you could call what I did dancing. But I took a risk and did something entirely new and different and unexpected and had fun, and that's kind of what this acting thing is about.

In My Head/In the Dark

"My, isn't the sewing coming along nicely?" (Why are they sewing an overcoat? They were never sewing an overcoat during rehearsals. Does the audience see that it's an overcoat? Does it matter? Whoops, I'm worrying about the audience; that's bad. Now I'm judging myself for worrying about the audience; that's worse. Get back in the moment, now! Back!) "Such nimble fingers." (Why did the lights just go out? Is this some kind of comment on my performance, like getting the hook? Maybe they decided to trim the scene and forgot to tell me? Why would they do that? Should I wait for them to go back on? What if they don't go back on?) "I've just been to the place where Tim will rest. I wish you all could have seen it." (I wish we could see something. Or at least be seen.) "We'll visit every Sunday." (Oh, great, here come the lights just in time for my unconvincing emotional breakdown.) "My little child!" (Is that... a cell phone? Yes, yes, it's a cell phone. In 1843!) I left the stage feeling like a complete fraud but, amazingly, another member of the cast congratulated me afterward for not missing a beat and audience members said (before I had a chance to prompt them!) they scene moved them to tears. I'm pretty sure Dickens deserved the credit for that, but since I was there and he wasn't, I took a share of it.

Being Bob

Last night at 8 p.m. I stood on a dark stage, wondering if it was too late to slip away unnoticed. Surely someone else would remember my lines well enough to cover for my absence. All I knew was that the stage doors had magically sucked every bit of dialogue out of my head. But before I knew it, the lights went up, and the last note of the requiem (how appropriate) faded. I put on my derby, faced the audience and started talking. Words came out of my mouth as if they were my own, not some text I was struggling to remember. I don't know if I'll ever get used to that sensation or fully understand the phenomenon, but I'm sure glad for it. Once the play started rolling there was no more time to be nervous as I bounced around from Narrator to Cratchit to Schoolmaster to Fezziwig to Miner to Topper to Businessman and back again. (The rest of the cast plays multiple roles too, so as much activity as there is onstage there's even more off, with continual lightning-fast costume changes.) Topper is the most fun role for me, as he's all about having a good time. As Fezziwig I was nearly swallowed whole by the wig from hell, but I survived. But Bob Cratchit is the most challenging and the most rewarding part for me by far. Although the dialogue isn't extensive, he's called upon to show a wide range of emotions and create meaningful connections with several other characters. To be honest, it's not the role I wanted or expected. I had my eye on a couple larger-than-life characters who deliver important messages in grand, flowery language, not a simple, down-to-earth clerk, husband and father. Now of course I can't imagine not being Cratchit. I could write more, but it's time to get ready for tonight's show.

Passing Shadow

The Anaheim 2005 cast of Tales From the Shadow Zone has taken its final bows, and I've put away the bow tie and Ben Nye stage blood. It was definitely time to move on. Doing a Halloween show on Nov. 5 was pushing it, even if we did beat The Simpsons by 24 hours. But ending the show was bittersweet. As much as I look forward to new challenges and opportunities, I'll miss getting together with the rest of the cast next weekend—another little family formed and dissolved in a matter of weeks. But our paths may cross again soon. When I showed up at the theater last night, I met a guy from Pan who was there to work on another show, in which he'd just got the lead. Also last night, I learned that in Hollywood even the homeless have notes. A street person came in from the cold (he must have been comped) and stayed to critique some of the actors, but not me. Either he was pleased with my performance or thought it unworthy of comment. IMHO, The Woods Beast didn't sizzle quite like last week, but The Girlz reached new heights of... something.

Take that, Martians!

Last night was a real hoot! As an actor I generally have to respect the fourth wall, which means I don't get to watch the audience reactions, other than peripherally. As a narrator, however, it was appropriate for me to tell the story directly to them, and to watch them, keenly and closely. It was fun to see them hang on my every word (OK, they were really H.G. Wells' words, but they were mine for an hour or so.) I think it really helped create a connection. But it was also nerve-wracking sitting up there the whole time, never retreating backstage or even upstage, and having to convey mood and emotion without making any huge gestures, running around, or knocking things or people about (which I'm sure is exactly what Stanislawski had in mind). And I couldn't get away with the mental trick of pretending the audience didn't exist. Fortunately I was far from alone up there, sharing the stage with five fine actors, one of whom is going to play Scrooge in A Christmas Carol and was also responsible for the bulk of last night's sound effects, in addition to a star turn as a survivalist.

Mars Attacks!

This Halloween night, I'll be on hand to narrate the invasion. This dramatic reading draws from the H.G. Wells classic, incorporating scenes and characters absent from the well-known film, TV or radio adaptations but essential to the author's vision.

Making Christmas

"Time to give them something fun they'll talk about for years to come. Let's have a cheer from everyone. It's time to party. Making Christmas...." So, now I'm a carpenter! Well, not really, but I have been helping to build the set for A Christmas Carol. We built a massive platform that elevates the actors to increase our visibility (not to mention making us look taller and more important). We're thinking of calling this revolutionary structure a "stage". But that's just the beginning. If you saw a Black Box Theatre production earlier this year and come back for this one, you'll be amazed at the transformation. I'm just amazed that I'm doing construction work. It's the first time I've done anything like this since flunking wood shop in the seventh grade. But I'm doing so well they've given me the all-important job of sorting screws!

The Hollywood Zone

On Thursday I got a frantic call. The actor who plays Robert in the Hollywood cast of Tales From the Shadow Zone couldn't make the Friday night performance. Could I please, please, please step in? Well, in the proud tradition of Underdog and Mighty Mouse, I answered the cry for help. Actually, I just seized an opportunity for a few extra minutes in the spotlight, but I can pretend like I'm some sort of hero. So tonight I found myself playing a familiar role with an unfamiliar cast in an unfamiliar venue. It was very interesting to experience how their personalities and choices affected the onstage dynamics and caused me to make different choices in reaction to them. Okay, it was still about four people in a cabin surrounded by monsters, but it had a whole different energy—not better or worse, just different. It was a clear demonstration of the living, organic nature of theater.

Inside the CD Club

Hey, I'm a casting director! Well, maybe not, but in the past few days I've been helping a technophobic director complete the cast of a play by posting notices online, screening applicants and scheduling auditions. So, like everyone else who has been involved in that side of the casting process for more than a minute, I now have advice to offer actors. How much is that worth to you? Nothing? Well, that's what I'm charging. These tips pertain particularly to actors using online casting services. Tip No. 1: Smile! I want to work with happy people. Besides, if I don't see your teeth in at least one of your photos, I'm going to wonder if they're little, brown, crooked and pointy. If you have little, brown, crooked, pointy teeth, you might as well let me see them now. They may actually be what I'm looking for. Tip No. 2: Provide an e-mail address. You're online. I'm online. Wouldn't it be great if I could reach you right now -- online? Oh, wait, there's another actor with comparable looks and experience and an e-mail address. I wonder which one I'll contact first. Okay, so two tips is all you get. It's free, and I told you I haven't been doing this long.

Brush With a Brush With Fame

So I'm at the Westwood Brewing Company (which isn't a brewing company at all) with an actress you've never heard of when she says, "I'm going to talk to Marisa Tomei" and leaves the table. A few minutes later she comes back and announces, "I just hugged Marisa Tomei," as indeed she had. Kind of makes me wonder how many other Oscar-winning actors I've been within hugging distance of without realizing it during all my years in and around L.A. Even when I've been on sets with famous people, I'm slow to recognize them. Well, there you have it: my first celebrity name-dropping. Pretty soon I'll resort to pictures of cute, furry animals.

The Girlz and I

Hey, that was all right! We had 18 people in the audience, which may not sound like a lot but for a show that got very little promotion opening in a 49-seat theater in the back of an office building in a nondescript area of Anaheim, ain't too shabby. After a brief introductory scene came the first of four self-contained episodes, "The Girlz," in which I play a nerdy scientist with a couple of dedicated personal assistants. The girlz and I have really hit it off. In fact, they demanded I step into the role after the original lead left the cast, and now they say I'm perfect for the part, which is kind of flattering and insulting at the same time. The second sketch, "The Virus," I'm not in, so it can go to hell. Then, after intermission, comes "A Date in Time." I can't say too much about my role in that, but it involves holding still for what seems like a very long time. My last appearance was in "The Woods Beast," which I was worried we hadn't rehearsed enough, but other than lights going up and down at random, one character having to exit through a window because the door was stuck shut, sound cues that consisted of silence or white noise, and my own Wizard of Oz moment (Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. Thanks a lot, Toto!), it went great! We just stuck with the characters and and did our best to keep the energy up and move the scene forward, and the audience seemed to enjoy it on one level or another!

The Curse of the Woods Beast

Wanna hear something really scary? One of the vignettes mentioned a post or two below this one hasn't had a full cast rehearsal for three weeks. Perhaps I shouldn't broadcast the fact on a public blog, but since judging by the lack of comments no one but me actually reads the damn thing, what the hell. Anyhoo, I was on my way to a rehearsal tonight when one of the other cast members calls to tell me she was having car trouble. Aiieee! Then, while I'm sitting alone in the dark parking lot, the director -- who has the keys to the building -- calls to tell me his car broke down. Aiieee! Eventually, another cast member shows up and says he only came to audition for another play. Aiieee! We open Saturday. Aiieee! Will the cast show up? Will we have rehearsed first? There's only one way to find out! Tales From the Shadow Zone, Second Stage Theatre, El Rancho Plaza Suite 140, Saturdays through Oct.29th at 8 p.m., 714-502-2249.

Here We Come a-Caroling

I just got back from the first read-through for A Christmas  Carol and I am definitely feeling the spirit. It's a very faithful adaptation, meaning all of the great lines are intact and undiluted. After seeing so many modern retellings I'd almost forgot how powerful the original is and filled with cheer, pathos, and wit, often in a single paragraph. And although the world has changed much since Dickens' time, the issues he addressed are just as relevant today. I'm going to enjoy immersing myself in this for the next several weeks.