A Week for Goodbyes

You think you've seen how pathetic a dog can look when she's watching you eat and hoping for just one tasty morsel, but that's nothing. When that same dog is to weak to move and finding it difficult to even breathe, then you see what those eyes can really do. Now before anybody who might happen to read this feels the need to send me condolences, I'm not talking about my dog. This dog and I didn't have a particularly close bond. In fact, I first realized something was seriously wrong with this dog when I walked into her yard and heard only a muffled woof, instead of the loud, angry barking. There was something not right about the way she was lying on the ground, not stretched out or curled up in typical fashion but like a used dog someone had crumpled and discarded. Her labored breathing was another clear sign, and the distress showed in her face. This would be the morning I helped my mother transport her dying dog to the vet. It turned out the dog had bleeding masses in her spleen and liver. The spleen she could have lived without; the liver, not so much, and every lobe appeared affected. The veterinary surgeon said their were procedures that she could do, but she couldn't in good conscience recommend any of them. So we watched as the vet administered a lethal injection. Within just a couple of seconds the dog stopped struggling to breathe.

That night was the final performance of A Tuna Christmas, in which I played, among other roles, an animal lover named Petey Fisk who adopts a dog/coyote hybrid he names Fresno. In this production, Fresno was played by a standard poodle. It was a strange experience being greeted by Grendel, who sniffed my jeans with particular interest that night - the same jeans I had worn to the vet. And acting with him on stage, having just said goodbye to one dog and knowing I also might well never see him again had a peculiar poignancy. Now this would be the appropriate place to say I gave an incredibly moving performance that reduced the house to tears, akin to Kathryn Hepburn's character in Stage Door when she talked about the calla lilies, but it wasn't anything that outwardly dramatic, just something I felt while playing a goofy little comedy. Afterward there was a cast party, which was nice because I got to say goodbye to the rest of the cast and hang out with some friends who came to the show, but I stayed a little too long because the conversation somehow turned to dead pets. And it wasn't me.

And here's where I give a shout-out to friends who came to the show: Glen Hardy, Spenser Coates, and Bart Weil. Glen and I met in Much Ado About Nothing, Spenser was in Love's Labors Lost, and Bart and I have done improv together on several occasions. Thanks for the support!

Among this week's auditions, the real standout in my mind was a dog-food commercial. During the audition I got to talk to a big stuffed dog as if it was real. Naturally, I kept seeing those big brown eyes staring at me like they had Saturday morning. Made for a real happy pitchman, I'm sure.

Last night was the last theater Christmas party ever at the Second Stage in Anaheim, home of many fabulous theatrical productions of note over the years. The party had some raunchy and raucous moments, largely related to a twisted white elephant gift exchange, but it also had a melancholy tinge because it was a fair well to a place where I had some personally significant experiences and met some pretty important people in my life.

Today I got a call from someone who would like me to audition for a gig hosting a new series. (The series is about animals, naturally.) Well, the audition's something to look forward to in the new year. Getting the gig could make for a very happy 2008.

I Was a Teenage Meth Addict

I pushed a terrified man against the wall today and threatened to violate his wife in a degrading and violent fashion. It was all in a day's work. I had an audition for an anti-drug PSA, and I was playing a meth-addicted teenage thug. And if you think that's a strange role for a mild-mannered middle-aged man, you're right. I was actually there to try out for the part of the terrified guy, but the session runner brought us in three at a time and had us take turns being the hoodlums. It was totally unexpected, but that's what keeps it interesting.

New Tuna Flyer

There might be a flying fish joke somewhere in there, but it's been a long day. Anyway, if you see a little picture of the flyer over there on the right, click on it for a larger version. In case you don't, here's the gist of it: December 1 through 15; Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 4 p.m.; reservations and additional information at http://plays411.com/atunachristmas.

I Gave the Director a Wedgie

A large man in a blood-stained shirt grinned at me as I walked along the canyon road. I sure hope I'm in the right place, I thought. My friend Summer is working on an indie film, and based on her recommendation, some performance clips and a headshot or two, the director had cast me in a small (but memorable!) role. I hadn't seen the full script and didn't really know what the movie was about. Fortunately, the big bloody man turned out to be a friendly guy who had come to guide me to the location. It's a horror spoof, and it turned out to be a fun shoot. The writer even added a scene for me that every actor has dreamed about, in which I Gave the Director a Wedgie. And we did multiple takes! In other news, my interaction with another actor on the train movie mentioned in the previous post seems to have inspired the director/writer. He's working on a new script written around our characters!

Station to Station

The word “set” would seem to describe something stationery, but I just finished working on one that moved all over Los Angeles. I was cast in an indie film that was set largely on a commuter train. We spent two days hopping on and off the Gold Line, from Sierra Madre Villa to Union Station and back again with occasional stops en route, to get all the coverage that was needed, while hoping not to attract too much attention.

You Can Tune a Piano, But You Can't Tune a Fisk

I've begun rehearsing for an LA production of A Tuna Christmas. It looks like it's going to be a lot of fun to perform and, hopefully, to watch. It's written as a two-man play with lots of quick changes and cross-dressing, but the director has decided to spread the joy (and the work) by dividing up the roles among several actors. Most of us will still end up playing multiple characters. My chief role is Petey Fisk, a kind-hearted misfit who loves animals, but who doesn't always seem to be loved by them. Stay tuned for more information as opening night approaches.

GBZ and Me

I'm at the Coffee Bean between auditions, drinking a red-eye and using the WiFi (free until Nov. 11!). I did OK at my first audition, but I have doubts about my Great Big Zit. I think it may be holding me back, and I'm planning to dissolve our partnership soon. I'm not sure, though. What if it turns out they liked GBZ better than me? Maybe if we get both roles, I can do one and GBZ can do the other.

The Year of the Diamond Dogs

I find myself liking Radiant's “That Girl” video (no, Marlo Thomas isn't in it).



In other news, “Nightmares” is over and the show went really well and got great reactions. I wasn't sure how many people would turn out on Halloween night, but we had a nice crowd at the show and the after-party. The audience was more elaborately costumed than the cast. Standouts included Superwoman and Wonderman, Bikini Guy, Trojan and Dracula. Bart was there for the third time and did a karaoke/stand-up routine dressed as Santa. I really need to keep my camera phone with me at all times.

I Dreamed We Were Expecting A Full House...

... and then somebody realized he had counted some reservations twice, so there weren't as many people coming as expected. Aaiieee! Whew, what a scary dream. What's that? It really happened? Aaiieee! OK, calm down. There's still time for people to call 714-630-9870 and book the remaining seats.

NIGHTMARES final performance Oct. 31
House opens at 7:30 p.m., performance at 8, party follows
THE GALLERY THEATRE
3152 East La Palma, Suite G
Anaheim, CA

At only $6, you can hardly afford not to go!

Dancing Makes Me Hungry

I just got back from a salsa and merengue class. Do you know what would taste really good right now? Some chips and salsa and a slice of lemon meringue pie. But is there any salsa or pie in the house? Of course not.

Strictly Ballroom

Last night I took a dance lesson, proving I don't have to be around horses to get my feet stepped on. Fortunately, my partners this time were much, much lighter. I'll be polishing my waltz, swing and cha-cha skills in the coming weeks. One never knows when one might have to cha-cha, after all. Hey, if you want to see something even scarier than dance lessons, come to the final performance of Nightmares on Halloween night at the Gallery Theatre. It's only $6 and there's a party afterward. I'm told it's almost sold out, so call 714-630-9870.

More Nightmares!

You have two more chances to catch me (and some other people) in "Nightmares" at the Gallery Theatre for the absurdly low price of $6 (unless you're reading this after the fact, which is hardly my fault, is it?). I've had several people tell me I'm creepy and scary. And some of them have actually seen the show.

NIGHTMARES
Sunday Oct. 28 and Wednesday Oct. 31 (Halloween)
Show starts promptly at 8 p.m.
THE GALLERY THEATRE
3152 East La Palma - Suite G
Anaheim, CA 92807

Reservations and Information:
714.630.9870

Directions:
Take the 91 freeway to Kraemer. Turn right at the end of the ramp and right again at La Palma (first light). The Gallery Theatre is located in the Sterling Business Complex.

Mares & Nightmares

Monday: Auditioned for a role as a chef in a white jacket purchased specially for the occasion ($2 at a local thrift store) — two more auditions and wardrobe changes that day.
Tuesday: Traveled to Dude's Ranch for a riding lesson. Practiced steering, accelerating, reverse, and most importantly, braking. Had a great time, not realizing my thighs would still be sore five days later. Also managed to get my foot under a horse's hoof; glad I wore boots. Later, rehearsed for Nightmares, sore thighs and toes and all.
Wednesday: Went on audition or two. In the evening, performed reading of The Dybbuk — we made people cry, we got paid, and we were invited back to do another reading. A good night all-in-all.
Thursday: Had an audition wherein I was asked to pantomime running into an electric fence, do a bad robot imitation, fall over a chair and chase an imaginary monkey around the room. Bruised more than my dignity. Another Nightmares rehearsal
Friday: Another skating lesson. Last time I thought I lurched around like the Frankenstein monster. This time my coach said I wobbled like Winnie-the-Pooh. Is that better or worse?
Saturday: Saw a very enjoyable production of A Midsummer's Night Dream at the Next Stage. "Every man shall have his mare!"
Sunday: Off to a dress rehearsal of Nightmares. The show opens Thursday at the Gallery Theatre. I play two despicable characters. Come and show me some hate!

Don't Blink

Demons, Golems, and Me

One man has delved to deeply into hidden things and another has kept his mind willfully ignorant of what his heart knows to be true. A woman loved by both is caught between the truth and the lie, the light and the shadow, the living and the dead. “Demons, Golems, and Dybbuks: Monsters of the Jewish Imagination” is the theme of a series of discussions being held in Pasadena this fall. On October 17, the conversation will focus on The Dybbuk: Between Two Worlds, considered a seminal work of Jewish theater. I will take on the role of Khonon/The Dybbuk in a staged reading that will precede the discussion. Preparing for the event has been a fascinating journey into a time, place, and belief system I knew very little about, and I look forward to learning more. For details or to register, contact Joanne Kim, (626) 585-7837, jykim@pasadena.edu.

Cool World

I have been visiting the cartooniverse lately. First, I interviewed the delightful Ann-Margret in her Beverly Hills home. Ann-Margret herself is quite real, but I first knew her as Ann-Margrock on The Flintstones. Then I auditioned for a role on the DVD release of... well, I signed a confidentiality agreement, but it was highly popular anime back when we used to just call it Japanese animation. In noncartoon news, I had my first ice-skating lesson. Technically, I think I've been to the rink at least once as a child, but I don't remember much more than sitting down, hard, a lot. This time I managed to stay vertical for several stiff, lumbering turns around the rink. I must have looked like Boris Karloff in Frankenstein on Ice.

Two Kinds of Shoot

Yesterday I fired off several dozen rounds with a Springfield XD9 and got my handgun safety certificate. During the classroom session, I sometimes felt that the life-size cardboard cutout of John Wayne was staring at me like I didn't belong. But I passed the test and even managed to hit the center of the target a few times. Take that, Duke. It was only my second time firing a handgun and my first with a semiautomatic (as part of an acting gig, I fired a 1903 Colt 38 single-action revolver). I was worried that I'd be too nervous to shoot straight, but by the time we'd had all the safety instruction and gone through a few dry-firing sessions, I felt pretty comfortable. There seemed to be one instructor for every two or three students on the firing line, and they made darned sure the only time any students were holding a loaded firearm was when they were facing the target and preparing to fire. On the previous day, I worked on an instructional video project called Treasure Your Marriage, in which I got to complain about my wife's compulsive cleaning and organizing. If only I had a wife like that, my life would be so much easier. Well, maybe not easier, but probably cleaner and more organized.

Mob Rules

When I asked the attendant about parking for Deal Or No Deal, she gave me a quizzical look. Stupid parking attendant, I thought. She ought to know the name of the show. Certainly other contestants have already arrived. “The game show,” I prompted her, “at the studio.” “Oh,” she responded, a look of sudden realization on her face. “You want the next entrance over.” I thanked her and drove to the next entrance, marked by a yellow sign reading 1 vs. 100, the actual name of the show I was there to participate in. I'm really not prepared for this, I realized. In my defense, I did wake up at 4 a.m. in order to make it to the studio on time. How is anyone supposed to be smart after waking up while it's still dark out? Oh, sure, emergency room surgeons do it all the time, but they aren't dealing with the stress of being on a game show. And as I've already written, I'm not a regular viewer and it wasn't my idea to be on the show. As it turns out, it wasn't anyone's idea for me to be on the show that day. For this episode, they wanted two mobs, one all male and one all female. The men were all given name tags, some of which had blue dots on them. The blue dot people were made mob members right away. Then they asked for men over 6 feet tall (missed it by that much. Then, they took men whose tags had a 1 or a 2 as the last digit. Mine had a 4. There were no 5s. I'm not sure if the numbers were randoms, or the 4 meant they really thought I sucked. Maybe it related to the 3.5 I got at the audition? In any case, I was again sent home before the day was over. Before I left, someone explained that all the people with blue dots had been there once before and were called back, and that's why they got preference this time around, and the same thing could happen to us. So that blew our theory that the blue dot meant they blew the casting director.

Life and Death Concerns

I went to an American Red Cross CPR and first aid class today and as I was watching the demonstration videos, a couple of very important questions occured to me, namely, who are these people and how much did they get paid? Some of the performers may well have been ARC employees, while others almost had to be professional actors. Some of the vignettes were simple demonstrations that were done very straight and without emotion and some of them were staged to simulate real-life situations. Of the latter, some were performed a little lethargically, but that may well have been a directorial choice to keep theatrics to a minimum so as not to interfere with the instructional purpose of the videos. Still, others were very effective and even occasionally moving. I thought the heat exhaustion farm workers and hypothermia fishermen were particularly good. So, it had me wondering if the Red Cross had some sort of SAG waiver like the film schools that allows them to use a mixture of union and non-union actors, and if so, what if anything they pay them. Or if they produce some of the videos in-house as a non-signatory and contract out the rest to a company that has signed a SAG agreement. These are the things I think about now. (Lest anyone think that's all I thought about today, I got 100 percent on my written exam and am now certified in first aid and CPR).

No Rushin' This Literature

In preparation for a dramatic reading of The Dybbuk, I ordered an Ansky anthology from an online bookstore. I was about $5 short of the minimum to qualify for free shipping, so I searched for something to buy for $5 or less. In the mix with a bunch of questionable titles I'd never heard of was an acknowledged classic: The Brothers Karamazov. What the heck, I thought, I'm basically getting a free book. Upon delivery, I breezed through The Dybbuk in one sitting. Then, I turned with some apprehension to the heftier tome: 700+ pages of smallish print with narrow margins. Well, I told myself, it's a classic, so it must be worth the effort. Then I read the author's introduction, in which Dostoevsky basically apologizes for writing such a uninteresting story about such an unexceptional proagonist but assures the reader that it's a necessary prelude to the second part of the story, which will be much more interesting, honest. The problem with that is that he never got around to writing The Brothers Karamazov II: Alyosha Strikes Back, or whatever it was supposed to be. No, he took the easy way out and died, leaving me with 700+ pages of prologue.