Yet Another Edition of Piercing Analysis From Random Facebook Apps

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Data 66% Chekov 60% Mr. Sulu 60% An Expendable Character (Redshirt) 60% Uhura 55% Geordi LaForge 55% James T. Kirk (Captain) 50% Mr. Scott 50% Will Riker 45% Spock 42% Leonard McCoy (Bones) 40% Jean-Luc Picard 40% Beverly Crusher 40% Deanna Troi 40% Worf 35%

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On Jumping Ship, or the Brack Scale

My friend Christopher Henley, artistic director of DC's WSC Avant Bard theatre company, started a discussion on Facebook yesterday bemoaning the tendency of some actors to 'jump ship,' leaving one production for another, and when (or if) it's ever OK for this to happen.  He openly acknowledged that in times past he was also guilty of 'poaching' actors from other shows, and decried that some directors also offer roles to actors and then retract them when a 'better' actor becomes available.

I've been in shows where actors dropped out during the rehearsal process; usually there was a conflict of styles between the director and actor making a professional working relationship nearly impossible.  In one particular case, the lead dropped out a week into the rehearsal process and I took over the role.  I almost followed in his footsteps - the director (also co-producer, adapter, and actor) was one of the most odious assholes I've ever worked with, and wound up burning so many bridges with the theatre community that he later left town.  Though to be fair, he got a far better performance out of me than most directors could.

And I'm not immune to jumping ship myself.  I did it once and things got very messy indeed.  Some of the mess, however, had nothing to do with my dropping out, but nonetheless there are lessons to be learned from the story.

In November 2007, I accepted the role of Boo in a production of Durang's The Marriage of Bette and Boo that would go up the following July.  It was a fairly new company: though non-Equity, it paid (as most DC-area companies do), but a few colleagues had reported negative experiences working for them.  It was a bit unusual for a non-Eq theatre to cast a show so far in advance, but it should be noted that no contracts were signed.  Typically signing contracts happens at the first rehearsal, still some six months distant

I was not 100% confident about the production; I wasn't a big Durang fan, and I had reservations about the cast and director.  But it was a lead role, and the producer had wanted to work with me for quite some time.  The year before both he and another company had offered me roles in overlapping productions and I took the other offer, so I felt I kinda owed it to him.  Also, at the time my calendar was distressingly empty so I thought, well, better than nothing.  I acknowledge that these by no means are the best reasons to accept a role in a play, and the onus was on me for accepting.

Barely a week later, another theatre (a bit higher on the DC Theatre food chain) announced its season (very late in the process, as in during the first production of said season).  I was overjoyed to see that their season closer was Howard Brenton's The Romans In Britain.  I was first introduced to this controversial epic a few years earlier in grad school, and I was happy to participate in a staged reading with this company over the past summer.  This was going to be a killer production, and I couldn't wait to audition... until I saw the production dates, which overlapped the dates of Bette and Boo.

I faced an ethical dilemma.  The show that I really really wanted to do, that I would knock down grannies to act in, conflicted with the show I'd already accepted, albeit half-assedly.  I made the decision that I would audition, and if they cast me I'd jump.  When would another opportunity to do this show come up?

A couple months later, auditions for Romans were announced, and, well, I went.  They were a bit unusual; we essentially redid our staged reading for the director (one of the area's leading directors, another reason I really wanted to do this show).  We then had callbacks where we had the choice of what scenes to do.

In the meantime, a colleague had dropped out of Bette and Boo.  He'd been offered a summer tour with American Shakespeare Festival in Staunton, a plum gig with an Equity card awaiting him at the end, so they let him go with no hard feelings.  Soon after they lost their Bette, under circumstances I was unaware of.

Eventually I was offered a role in Romans, joining a list of friends and colleagues I greatly admired.  I began drafting as tactful and apologetic an email that I could to the Bette and Boo people.  I felt very guilty about dropping out, but the devil on my shoulder pointed out that there were still two months before the first rehearsal, and I had signed nothing.  The producer, understandably, was very upset about what he felt was a lateral move, and that in all likelihood he would never cast me in another show.

My guilty conscience was sufficiently stricken that I made overtures to the Romans people that perhaps I ought to decline the role and return to Bette and Boo.  I got a very terse email from one of the production staff that indicated I would be pretty much blackballed from this company as well.  Perhaps this played into my insecurity, and ultimately I threw my lot in with Romans.  A plum ensemble part in a great play with a great director.  Even with the bitter taste in my mouth from that email, this was good, right?

Then the wheels came off.  Two weeks before the first rehearsal, word quickly spread thru my colleagues - Romans was scrapped!  The producers had neglected to secure the rights to the play in advance - not the first time they'd had this problem - and when they finally got around to it, they were denied.  Worldwide performance rights had been frozen for reasons that were unclear (perhaps a film, or a West End revival?), and not even a frantic phone call to the author's agent could change it.

We were understandably upset.  It was a huge cast, nearly two dozen people, and many had turned down other work... I'd burned bridges with another theatre company for this... and there was no show.

A frantic search for a replacement production ensued and long story short, within a week I wound up directing another epic theatre piece in its place, Peter Barnes' Red Noses, with enough roles for as many of the cast that didn't find work in other productions.  We had to scramble to fill several roles since most DC actors were already committed to the Capital Fringe Festival, Source Fest, and a couple other large-cast productions.

One of the actors we pulled in was the replacement for the original Bette.  A couple weeks into their rehearsal process, Bette #2 was having personality conflicts with the director and having a miserable time.  When a mutual friend informed her that we were looking to fill roles, she jumped ship into our show.  It would be a great move for her, since she went on to work with this company for years, but still, at the time, the other company was really pissed.

I'd like to say that Red Noses became a smash hit and was a dream fulfilled, but not exactly.  It was a show that I'm proud of given the circumstances in which it came into production, but we had so many strikes against us - lack of time, lack of money, working in an AC-challenged sweatbox in July - that the show was a disappointment.  Low audiences and horrid reviews led to a production that finished several thousand dollars in the red, and was an arguable nadir for this company.  My own confidence dashed, I wouldn't direct another play for three years.

Likewise, Bette and Boo wound up going through their own nightmares.  Not only did they have to replace nearly a half-dozen actors, through an apparent administrative oversight they also had neglected to secure the performance rights for Bette and Boo.  The publisher pointed out that there was a major Broadway revival running, and under no circumstances could they greenlight them.  By this time they were in tech rehearsals and had invested thousands.  Ultimately after much begging and pleading they were allowed to perform, but they couldn't publicize nor could they be reviewed.  The company went into hiatus afterwards, and only recently have they resumed regular productions - apparently they're now doing very well.  The Red Noses people are doing well now too; they finally escaped their rusty warehouse purgatory into fancy new digs across town, and they are ascending to new heights of success.


Ultimately, I ought to have practiced better judgement in choosing what projects to audition for, and which offers to accept.  And that brings me to cite a very helpful comment to Henley's posting.  My friend and colleague Joe Brack listed the five criteria he uses when contemplating job offers: Money, Travel, Director, Role, and Cast.  If three out of five criteria are favorable, he will take a role.  I hereby resolve to adhere to the Brack Scale.

The Brack Scale presupposes that you've already established yourself as a working actor.  It sometimes is worth it to take a role that fails the Brack Scale test if you have no resumé, but really it's up to the actor to make the judgement call.

I recently had to apply the Brack Scale when I turned down an audition invite.  Great role and minimal travel, but no money, and I didn't know the director or the cast.  I also had resolved to take a few months off until my next gig in the spring.

And I think ultimately the key is having the self-possession and confidence to decline work.  It's nice to be offered work, but accepting work because of insecurity can lead to trainwrecks.  It's good for the ego when somebody is interested in working with you, but it's OK to say no.  If you're good enough, another offer will come, and it's better to decline a role that you have reservations about than to accept it and back out later.

The Definitive Piercing Analysis from a Random Facebook App

What does Jesus think of you?
Jesus thinks you're a Sanctimonious Prick
He's tired of your shit. Nobody thinks you're different, or interesting, or cool. Certainly not the Saviour of all Men. Jesus wants you to quit being such a tool.

John's comment: the Ayn Rand image was just the crown on the sin qua non of Facebook quizzes. Love it!

Still More Piercing Analysis From Random Facebook Quizzes

Which Beatles Song Are You?
You are I Am The Walrus.











You are the true iconoclast. You possess the perfect union of intuition and knowledge. You are independent and very involved in your thoughts. Avoid the tendency to have envy and contempt of others.

Which element are you?

You are Wood, an interesting element indeed. Made of tough stuff, you are. You have an outer shell that can protect you from most things and, unlike Metal, your shell is one built on logic and experience instead of one hastily put up to protect you from being hurt (though it functions in that way as well). Wood has the least personality of the elemental personae and is the most effected by the other elements (needs air to breathe, water to drink, earth to grow from, fire destroys it). Though to balance all of that out, you can heal far more easily than the rest (which is good, because if you do fall, bouncing back will be horrendously difficult). You are stable, stubborn almost, but smarts and common sense are your roots that keep you in place. Your place in the world: You are the wizened old soul whose mere existence proves that anything's possible..

John comments: How ironic, most drama critics say the same thing about my performances.

What Old Movie Star Are You?

Bette Davis
Short and to the point. Temperamental. Smoke when you get nervous or distracted. Good at whatever you do. Doesn't waste time. You either have strong friends or strong enemies. You have proven that nothing can stop you and you can do anything. Don't care what people say about you. You are ultimately capable of murder.

John comments: I changed my answers several times, and each time I wound up Bette. I think the fix is in.

Piercing Analysis from Random Facebook Apps, Vol. 6

Which President Are You?

Calvin Coolidge

You are shy and quiet. You are very funny, but not at all the clown. If it would mean you not being in it, you would like to watch a conversation go smoothly. Though sometimes oblivious to what is happening, people look up to you. You are compatible with Ronald Reagan.

(John says.... Reagan? Seriously?)

Piercing Analysis from Random Facebook Apps, Vol.... uh, 5?

What Shakespearean Character Are You?
(A different quiz from last year)

Jacques

You have a tremendous sense of humor, but sometimes you go a little too far with it. You veer into cynicism too frequently. A popular person, you know how to please crowds, but they don't ever seem to please you.

Which Punk Rock Star Are You?

Joe Strummer (The Clash)

You seem really involved in politics or social problems and you want to do a lot about. Charity concerts or other actions - that's your way to fix the world. You show, that punk rock exist beyond sex, drugs and alcohol. But you still know how to rock. Good for you.

On Career Minor-Leaguers, at the Plate and Onstage.

I read my new Facebook buddy King Kaufman's sports column daily on Salon.com, and in recent columns he praises a blog he'd come across written by minor-league pitcher Dirk Hayhurst. Unless that big call comes, Hayhurst is never rising above Triple-A ball. He's largely at peace with this, so rather than waste blogspace whining, he gives us the perspective we never get watching ESPN: the leaky motel rooms, endless bus rides, tarantulas in the bullpen, etc. There are a lot more of these players in the farm system than the 400 or so that are at any given summer evening are suited up for the Big Show, and aspiring athletes should take note, since the odds are that their lives will be more likely to be like his than, say, Derek Jeter. Similarly, drama programs churn out thousands of graduates every year, and somehow not all of them become Robert DeNiro.

His attitude made me reflect on my life, which isn't entirely dissimilar from his (except comparatively I'm chuggin' along in Single-A ball), maintaining my illusions of making it to the big dance, or at least a dance big enough to pay my rent.

I've got some similar life-of-a-struggling actor stories of my own, and that's definitely what I should be blogging about, rather than Youtube clips and LOLcats. To that end I can only say that I've been too busy living that life to write about it, juggling the full-time day job and struggling to turn my evening hobby into a career. My life, with not much exaggeration, is a perpetual cycle of work, rehearsal, and sleep. In the bits in between: feeding the cat, an occasional load of laundry, doing a dish or two, watching Doctor Who, and a lot of Chipotle burritos.

I spent many years in my artsy New England hometown, working in a tiny theatre with a rotating cast of fellow thespians. Although, yeah, technically I guess it was, I never thought of it as community theatre. Along with the requisite handful of incompetents and social maladjusts, many of my colleagues came from reputable arts schools, Tisch (NYU), North Carolina School of the Arts, or spent years working in NYC theatre off-off-Broadway; many were just as talented as any professional 'name' actors working today, or moreso. Yet they chose to come, or return, or remain, here.

This was my peer group. I learned far more by working with and observing them than I did at my undergraduate program (That's not a knock on my particular undergrad program, just a reflection on most B.A. drama programs in general). At the end of the run, we'd get a percentage of the gross, usually under $100. And this theatre was never dark. Each production had a two or three week run, and after one show closed on a Sunday, the next show would tech through the week, preview Thursday, and open Friday. This was my life for nearly eight years. I left seven years ago, and many of those same colleagues are still living that life (though some have passed away, moved to big cities, or are burned out).

A few that I knew tangentially, who usually worked at the nearly-Equity theatre across town, did go on to bigger things; some even to Broadway. Yet most of my peers chose to stay at the level that they are at. It's a question of priorities, I guess. Christopher, the NCSA grad, confided in me one night on a lakeside ten years ago that he wanted to be a Dad more than a professional actor (now he is a Dad, married to one of my undergrad classmates, and is from all I can tell entirely content. He still acts, just less). Kristan, whom I consider the finest actor I've ever worked with, couldn't conceive giving up her house and spacious yard to go somewhere like NYC. Her husband Chris, another fine actor, keeps claiming to be giving up theatre to focus on his painting, but never quite manages to. Eddie the eccentric visionary director (and former costumier at the NY Metropolitan Opera) emerges from his sculpture studio once every blue moon to throw some amazing theatre together on a budget of less than nothing. Tim, the aging Brit ex-pat, is slowly killing himself with overwork, exacerbating his failing health, but who would dare ask him to stop?

Although I could have been relatively content to stay home, eventually I realized there was nothing keeping me there, and I wanted to challenge myself to see just what I could do outside of this self-contained microuniverse. I dipped my foot into the water and got an internship, worked in summer stock, applied and was accepted into the Actors Studio MFA Program at the New School University (though I didn't attend), and finally packed and moved to New York City in the summer of 2001.

The people I met in NYC were a mixed bunch. For every career-focused tunnel-visioned hyper-talented person like my roommate Becki (now seen on prime time TV), there were dozens of talented unemployed (usually in my acting classes; they'd typically turn Equity and drop off the map), and hundreds of unfocused wanderers. The talented unemployed were usually the ones acting circles around me in Austin Pendleton's classes at HB, paying the rent as personal assistants to Oscar-winning actors. The wanderers tended to be grown up child actors, on the rare occasion doing the sort of store-front theatre in the boroughs that my CUA classmate Molly lovingly lampooned in "Ten For Hamlet." One of them told me how much I inspired him, apparently because even though I wasn't knocking on agents' doors, I regularly read Backstage, sent out headshots, and went to auditions. If, like them, I wasn't working, at least I was making the effort. Yet somehow I could never warm to the idea that showing up was particulary worthy of adulation.

My career in NYC was going nowhere so when the opportunity to pursue my oft-delayed MFA came around I jumped ship and came to DC. A two-year grad program later, I was out making the rounds, and almost instantly I was a steadily working non-Equity actor, basically having the life I had back home, just in larger theatres, for a (slightly) bigger paycheck, and getting my name spelled right in the Washington Post rather than misspelled in the Portsmouth Herald.

I'm still comparatively in the Minor Leagues, as befitting my status as a minor-league actor. I work in theatres where rats lurk, where the AC doesn't work in summer, I've had tech rehearsals interrupted by fires, homeless guys leave us roses and beer, and rehearsed in rooms in which we have to stay alert for parts of the floor that are too rotted out to support our weight.

I don't know if I'm a Major League caliber actor. I don't have leading man looks, I'm a decent singer but a terrible dancer, I have some issues with physicality, insecurity, socialization, etc. That said, I'm an intelligent, flexible character actor, can work in a wide variety of genres, have a strong voice and sharp instincts. I'm a well-rounded utilityman, a solid journeyman, not a spectacular power hitter or speedy base stealer. So at best I'll probably be like Dirk Hayhurst, toiling my career away in Triple-A. If I go Equity, I may work, I may not. I can see myself doing low-level Equity Regional theatre around the country. And unlike Dirk, who at my age would be considered at the twilight of his career, barring physical or mental infirmity I can act until I drop dead. So I still am on an upward career trajectory, albeit a gentle slope. I've got time. Knock wood.

Piercing Analysis From Random Facebook Apps, Volume 4

What Type of Person do you Attract?

You attract unstable people!
Congrats, you are an 'insane' magnet, and you probably have no idea why. Something about your mix of styles, how you walk not just 'one' lifestyle, but appear to have a foot in them all. To the insane, you appear to be a beacon of hope and they will flock to you, like it or not. But, they ARE insane. Lucky for you, the insane tend to be the best sexual lovers, just the rest of the package deal may not be for you.

How Evil Are You?

Mostly Good.
You are a decent person, who generally strives to do the right thing. But you have a little evil streak that sometimes shows its face. Usually, this tiny villain only expresses itself in small or petty misdemeanors and mischievous acts, and because of this you aren’t a huge threat to the wellbeing and goodness of humanity. But in a way, your impishness is even more dangerous because it can be charming, entertaining, and even amusing. So we have to keep a careful eye on you to make sure that little devil stays under control.

How CrAzY Are You?

You're so not crazy.

But that's a bad thing. You're boring. Dull. Some more boring. Soome more dull. Get some crazy medicine or some Cocoa Puffs to get coocoo for!!! YOU ARE SO NOT CRAZY, IT'S NOT NORMAL!!!!

Piercing Analysis From Random Facebook Apps, vol. 3

Which Winnie the Pooh Character Are You?

You are Piglet, the adventurous but weary little pig. You are quick to agree to do new and exciting things but then become apprehensive. Nevertheless you never back out.

What Greek God are you?

You are Artemis, the goddess of hunt. You are independent and know what you want from life. You respect nature and sometimes may test your skill at target shooting.

Piercing Analysis From Random Facebook Apps, vol. 2

Which Shakespeare Play Are You?

You are Macbeth.

You started out as good person, but as time goes on, you become more and more corrupt. You often seek the advice of witches.