I had my first rehearsal for the new play on Sunday... and it was my last. Why do you ask? Keep reading.
The play was an older chestnut from the early 70's about 3 ex-wives and their ex-husbands. The husbands show up in the second act only but they talk and talk and talk a lot. Now, since this how was written about 30 years ago, the language and usage of words would be different. Oh, let's take an example: the word "faggot". My character said "fag" or "faggot" 10 times in one scene. What happens is he and a friend of his talk about homosexuality and his friend comes out to him as being bisexual. I'm okay with the fact that he's not taking it terribly well ('cause that happens) and obviously, it would have been a challenge for me to play that. What I objected to was saying those two words. I find them both very offensive and trust me, after going through high school with those words being flung at me, I really was in no mood to actually say them. If the play was about 3 gay men and they were using that term, it would be a different context, and I wouldn't have a problem. But in this case? No. So, I told the producer who told the director I need to have the words changed and the director OK'ed that. A good sign, right? You'd think so...
The producer then told me that I had to be completely off book (i.e. fully memorized my lines) by Sunday, our first rehearsal. This is very different from my previous experiences... oh hell, ALL OF THEM. But, I bit the bullet and memorized all of my 119 lines. Keep in mind, my character is only in three scenes in the second act. But, I trudged through and got them all down before rehearsal with hours to spare.
I arrive early at rehearsal on Sunday, and the mood there is... well, tense. Part of this reason is that our first performance is schedule for a week and half from then: a week from Tuesday. No, you read that right. And this is no small one-act. This is a full length play, very talky and has a lot of emotional heft. So, understandably, people are a bit put off. The director, who never has us introduce ourselves, have a read thru of the second act. It goes pretty well -- I only have to look down at my lines a few times here and there. He then calls a break and tells everyone to go outside but for me to stay.
Arrogant Director: Jon... I'm noticing that you're a little... off tonight. That you're not completely... happy with things.
Me: Well, yeah. I've never done a show this fast before. I've never had such a short period of time to turn a show around.
Arrogant Director: Well, you're only in three scenes.
Me: I know. Still, it's a lot of work with so few rehearsals.
Arrogant Director: Harrumph. Well, I've directed all over Los Angeles. What experience do you have out here? I mean, have you studied?
At this point, I got put out. Yes, I've studied -- I have my degree and everything, asshole. I cooled my jets and responded.
Me: Yes. I've done a lot of theater. When I was in Chicago, I mostly did theater and did so much I kinda burnt out on it. Now I'm rather picky about the theater I do.
Arrogant Director: [arrogant snort]
I proceeded then to explain the theater I did do in LA and how both shows each ran for 3 months, great word of mouth, etc. He then listed all the theaters he's directed at both in Chicago and Los Angeles.
Arrogant Director: Now are you worried about how you are going to be able to pull this off? Are you worried about your own abilities?
Me: Uh, to a certain extent, yeah. I'm worried about being able to do a good job on such a short notice.
Arrogant Director: Have you heard of [some actress]?
Me: No.
Arrogant Director: Do you watch General Hospital?
Me: [rolling my eyes on the inside] No.
Arrogant Director: Well, I coach [some actress] on it, and she has to learn 25 pages of lines in a short period of time, too. You have to be able to do that in this industry.
Me: Okay, true, but that's also 25 pages of lines you need to know for, like, one day of shooting and then you move on from there. You don't have to have it down for 6 performances for two weeks.
What was also unspoken was:
"Asshole, if I was on a SOAP OPERA, I'd be getting a good deal of MONEY and shooting for 12 hours a day. This is for no money and I'm still working a DAY JOB and we only have 6 four-hour rehearsals until people see this semi-homophobic opus, DICK."
We talked about the language I had changed and then said how he believed that I could do it, etc. He said he wanted me to be happy and excited to work on this project, since this is an ensemble, blah blah blah happycakes. I said I would be, but my nerves would still be high for the rest of rehearsal, and I'd be fine by the next one. Arrogant Director then called the break over and we started to roughly block the second act. I went on the stage and the one of the other actors joined me -- let's call him Swarthy Foreign Dude. Now, Swarthy Foreign Dude is obviously from another country and very, very attractive. Because of both of these things, he has a thick accent. As we're walking to the stage, Arrogant Director lays into him, saying how Swarthy Foreign Dude has to work on his diction and his voice or he'll never make it in this industry. After he saw the reactions on the rest of our faces, he smiled.
Arrogant Director: Look, I'm a very blunt guy and very honest. [proudly] I made all the women cry earlier this week.
Is this really something to be proud of? I mean, really? I calmed down a bit, and we blocked the second act, doing my best to calm my rage about his Assholeness and just focus. I spent my time off-stage trying my best to try to get to know the other actors, since Arrogant Director said we all had to be happy and ensemble-like. The problem was the rest of the actors were either in the same boat with me or worse. The women in the show had two acts of talky-talky lines to learn instead of my one, so they had no time to chat. They were too busy trying to learn their lines and trying to stay calm. When the director would direct them and be rather harsh, they'd thank him (!) and move on. Okay, call me old fashioned, but if you had a bunch of actors doing a show for no money on a horribly accelerated schedule, I'd TREAT THEM NICELY. If I'm getting paid out the yin-yang (or even scale), I'll suffer through whatever 'cause I know I'm at least being respected enough to be paid for my time.
The director then during a break told me and the other male actors that we had to get together outside of rehearsal to run our scenes, and that it was mandatory "since we don't have the time." And this is when I snapped inside. I finished blocking my last scene and then went into the dressing room, and waited for them to finish. I paced non-stop for 20 minutes. I've done two other plays in LA, both of which have had some semblence of disorganization and mismanagement, but both pulled out to be good shows in their own rights. So, in my haze of wearing a groove in the floor, I kept weighing back and forth. Am I reacting this way 'cause it's my now usual reaction when I start working on a play or is it because this is a nightmare and I need to jump ship? We eventually hit the end of rehearsal (a good hour after we were supposed to end) and the director went around the cast, asking if we had any questions and then telling us what our big problem areas were. He told me I was on the right track and to just keep going. Swarthy Foreign Dude was again berated about his diction. I kept thinking "That's what you get for casting a guy solely because you wanna fuck him, ASSHOLE."
I drove home, ranting to Tom on my cell about rehearsal and then hashing over my options with him once I actually got home. I was so wound up I couldn't get to sleep until 2:30am and slept fitfully until 6:30am. I had to get ready for work . [Sidenote: I got a three week gig on a new show for the WE Network. I'll blog more about it later, but in the meantime, Katie can get you caught up.]
This wasn't worth it. All this stress, all this frustration. Forget it. So, I drove to work early, and then called the Stage Manager to get the director's number. I get the Stage Manager's machine, so I start to leave a message saying I'm quitting the show and I need the director's number when the Stage Manager picked up his phone. With a terseness that rivals Chloe on 24 on a good day, the Stage Manager bitchily tells me to leave a message at the theater. I get the number from him, and as I start to explain how I have a lot of things going on in my life, he snaps that he has a doctor's appointment and just leave a message at the theater. And he hung up.
I left a message at the theater, and I haven't looked back since.
I've learned two good things about this experience:
(1): My time is worth money, and I won't take acting gigs unless I get paid something.
(2): I can memorize a lot of lines quicker than I thought.
1. you can take unpaid theatre, but it has to be GOOD unpaid theatre. and the kind where they respect you for doing it and treat you accordingly. 2. you know what i think about that unprofessional loser hack tool. 3. you were too nice when you quit, but that's you, so I'll accept it. xo, kd
Posted by: katied | May 11, 2006 at 04:00 PM