Life With MAMMA!

The Day After...

2009-12-26T23:58:00.005-05:00

Crazy night on Broadway!
First, Beth continued her absence from the show with a bad case of bronchitis. Corrine is her understudy and Boy, does that woman have pipes! She sang the hell out of the show - very impressive. Both shows, in fact.
Then, in the middle of the first show, David (Harry) blew out his calf muscle and pulled up lame like a race horse coming down the stretch! It's a wonder he finished the show, limping as he was and grimacing to the end. But he's a trouper and he follows the old but true adage, "The show must go on".
Unfortunately the weather didn't help, as the unusually mild and humid evening outside made for a warm evening in the theater. We were all sweating onstage! Under the lights is hard enough, but with the extra heat - nearly unbearable.
Two more shows tomorrow - busy holiday weekend!

Christmas Show

2009-12-26T01:41:00.004-05:00

Strange Night. Everyone very excited about getting back from the day off, excited about doing a Christmas show. General love and good cheer all around. But halfway through the first act, Beth lost her voice - literally. Barely made it through Voulez Vous. So her understudy Corrinne Melacon went on for the second act. And WOW can that woman sing. It's such a treat to see one of the understudies get the chance to go on and show their stuff. Believe me people, it's a fine line between the "stars" and the "ensemble" - these people are all talented as HELL! She'll be on for both shows tomorrow, too.

Get well, Beth!

Christmas 2009

2009-12-24T00:02:00.007-05:00

I wouldn't even know where to begin to explain my absence from blogging. So I won't. What an amazing journey it's been, especially over the last month. Certainly little time to write, and even less time to explain why. Door decorating contests (Amina Robinson and Halle Morse the winners!), Secret Santa (I had Holly Hanson, an electrician and Halle had me) and today, our final show before Christmas. It's been phenominal, and I'm looking forward to the one day break.
Back to work on Christmas Day. Merry Christmas, all.

Please enjoy the Mamma Mia 2009 Holiday video!

When Two Worlds Collide

2009-11-21T12:45:00.019-05:00

I'm a bit of an open book. I can't hide too many things in my life - especially Christmas presents from my kids, but that's a different story. I have certain areas in my life that I try to keep separate from others. Not out of deceit or purpose, it's just easier that way. Less to explain. For example, I don't want to have to explain to parents at my kids schools what it is that I do for a living. Not trying to be coy or elusive, just keeping it simple. I don't go into detail at work (a bastion of liberal thinking!) that I'm Catholic and go to church (nearly) every week and send my kids to Catholic schools. Way too much explaining to do.
So imagine my terror when my hockey buddies, a group not known for it's finesse or theatrical savvy, found out what I do and where I do it:
"Mamma Mia? Dude, that's awesome! We gotta come see it so we can make fun of you."
Hockey is a world of its own; a brethren, a fraternity with it's own language - "Bert, throw it to the middle next time and stop playing like you read it in a book!" - and a level of communication that is both brutally competitive (and utterly impossible to repeat here) and darkly loving. We talk in a coarse and rough way; it's rude and inconsiderate and downright mean - and we love it. We call each other every name in the book, degrading each others sexual preference, be it for person or animal, and ridicule job and life choices (Though spouses and children are generally off limits; girlfriends, not so much.)
Theater, of course, is my life's devotion. The nuance, the commitment, the disappointments. There is so much that goes into the life of an actor, and so much acceptance and tolerance that is expected and welcome. It's how we, as artists, grow. We love the unexpected, the different, the inappropriate. It brings freshness to a performance and is the life blood of creativity - and seems, in so many ways, the exact opposite of the hockey culture.
Friday night saw the terrifying collision of these two seeming disparate worlds as the first of my many hockey buddies (this time it was Scotty and his girlfriend Linda) came to the theater and experienced, firsthand, their own "Minut" and "OC" (my aforementioned nicknames) singing and dancing to Swedish Pop songs! The terror was all mine, I'm sure, as I know they only expected a fun night out at the theater, while I, on the other hand, had very different expectations.
I can stand in front of 1500 people on a nightly basis, sometimes with family or industry people in the audience, and perform unfazed. But cross my hockey world with my theater life? I literally broke out in a cold sweat:
"Oh man, I can' believe Scotty is out there?!"
I found myself nervous and preoccupied. I laughed at my folly, that I would be more disturbed that a hockey player was in the audience than a casting director or producer. Or my mother! Ahh, the power of the hockey brethren!
In the end, Scotty & Linda had a wonderful time, topped off by pictures in the back of the theater with us 3 "spandex clad" dads.(Yes, we're STILL fundraising for BC/EFA.) Now I've got some blackmail material if Scotty starts to give me a hard time!

In general, the show is going very well these days. I find myself very interested in audience size and response, as so much of our performance seems based on this. But it's an intriguing equation to contemplate. This past Wednesday proved to be the smallest house (audience) the show has had in 8 years! Dreadful, and tough to get the energy up for and to play to. Then Wednesday night? SRO! Great house, lots of energy!
You never can tell. But the show continues to be a blast to perform.

Catch-Up

2009-11-17T20:30:00.000-05:00

Sorry, sorry, sorry! I realize it's been nearly two weeks since my last post. The excuses abound, not the least of which is I had my PDA (phone) in for repair, and that's where I do most of my writing (I'm doing it now, in fact) and my desktop seemed to tank at the same time (hence the need to purchase a new HP 750GB hard drive, 8GB ram, Intel Core2Quad processor, for you computer geeks). But luckily I'm back in the running.

*Thank you to all concerned about my voice after my last post. It was tenuous and a bit frightening, but I did make it through the show. I actually seemed to get stronger as the show went on, but I was very nervous that it wouldn't last.

*There are many things to catch up on, and I can't remember half of them, but I will say the most recent and thrilling was the opportunity to share my MM! good fortune with my family this past weekend as my Mom, brother John and sister in law Sue, her friend Val and my brother's daughter (my niece) Erica came to the show over the weekend, all the way form Michigan! They actually had a busier two days than I did, shopping at Bergdorf's, seeing BILLY ELLIOT and MM!, dining out, taking taxis - I'm exhausted just thinking about it! But it was a treat to see them and share the joy of "the Mia", topped off by dinner at Joe Allen Restaurant, the perennial theatrical fave. Thanks for coming, guys, it was a treat!

*Also of note last week was my first "personal day". I'm allowed to take 2 days off a year for purely personal reasons (not sickness or vacation, just a day off). Now I'm not the kind of guy who takes days off easily. A few years ago I was doing a Broadway (lite) show called TWENTIETH CENTURY with Alec Baldwin (great guy) and Anne Heche (can you say CRAZY?) at the Roundabout Theater. I was sick as a dog one day, terrible flu, but you can bet I dragged my ass to the theater and got up on that stage. The show must go on, eh?

In any event, I had never planned to take a personal day even when I learned, in early September, that my daughter's Theatrical High School debut would conflict with my performance. She would just have to suffer without me, I thought. Well, last Friday morning (after a Thursday night of prodding by my fellow MM! cast members - Allison: "Are you crazy?", John: "You have to go!", Beth: "It's like suffering through root canal, but you gotta do it!"), I awoke with a start and realised, as her debut was that night, that I couldn't miss it! It was not out of guilt or obligation but the sheer joy of seeing my beautiful daughter, who had worked so hard over the last few months (between school and all her extra-curricular activities) - that I knew I HAD to attend! So I called my extremely understanding and gracious stage manager (Andy) and company manager (Tony) and explained the situation, and with their blessings I was off.

HUMBUG HIGH (A modern adaptation of Charles Dickens A CHRISTMAS CAROL) was a huge hit (not, in fact, root canal at all!) and the star (in my eyes) was the illustrious performance of "Madge the Dead Lunch Lady" inhibited with verve and comic gusto by my daughter Brigid. Bravo!

I promise to try the daily posting this week. There's always a lot going on, so it's easier to keep up by doing it daily rather than playing catch-up.

Slainte!

This Is A Test. This Is Only A Test.

2009-11-02T12:00:00.003-05:00

Okay, I'm a little terrified today:

Yesterday, a Sunday back from a great Halloween off. Two great shows, a nice run through Central Park (and battling the aftermath of the NYC Marathon) and a birthday celebration (Beth Leavel's) in between and all was well. I finished the second show. Went to my dressing room to change and I suddenly sneezed. Twice. No big deal, I thought. I finished getting dressed, left the theater and headed down Broadway to my destination - home. It was two blocks away that I realized I left my wallet in my dressing room. I walked back and Mike, our doorman, let me in. I tried to say hello - but nothing came out! I got my wallet, headed back out and walked for a few blocks, talking to myself, trying my voice - nothing! I stopped at Starbucks, thinking a warm Venti Hot Chocolate might sooth the chords - I couldn't even order! I had to whisper in the barista's ear, "Venti hot chocolate with skim milk and whip cream." I think he thought I was making a pass at him. But I was terrified. I've never had this happen. Not a sound came out. What do I do?
Went home, took a hot shower, tried to rest my voice the rest of the night and all day today. My poor wife is having a rather invasive (read:colonoscopy) medical procedure today and I wanted to be there for her. Now I can only support her in a non-verbal way. It's 12noon now, I can feel it getting better, I only hope I can find my upper vocal register before 8:00pm tonight!

Quick story under the category of "New Yorkers - you think you know everything":
I'm running up Central Park West, against traffic and amidst all the Marathon finishers. Thousands of people are out and milling. It's hard to run, but I'm making my way. Suddenly, a man on a bike, pulling up next to me and also riding against traffic, points to my left with the directive "Dude, sidewalk." Not wanting to start an argument, nor giving in to his admonishment, I simply comment, "Yes, it's there."
His response? "You should be on it."
I found the irony of the situation to hard to leave alone and what came next, if I do say so myself, is what separates free thinkers from the rest of the world.
"I'm sorry", I said in a somewhat fake Hispanic/Italian/foreign accent, "I don't speak English. But I know an asshole when I met one!" And off I went.
I'm sure it's not the first time that line has ever been used, but I found the absurdity of the situation just too outside the norm NOT to respond.
New Yorkers - you think you know everything!

Wish me luck tonight!

Happy Halloween 2009!

2009-10-31T23:50:00.005-04:00

Happy Halloween 2009!

So much happens so quickly backstage on a Broadway show that it's hard to keep up sometimes:

*Last Sunday we began an in-house scavenger hunt game titled "Bats, Rats and Riddles" (put together by our brilliant stage management team headed by the incomparable Andy Fenton!), consisting of clues in a book that lead to more clues, located inside AND outside the theater (often at OTHER Broadway shows) that concluded Friday night with the best team winning a top prize of a clothespin memento in the shape and form of a witch. A fun game meant to enhance the morale of the company - mission accomplished! Five teams of five or six members fought for supremacy, and yes, it's true, my team won. Hail to the victors! Clues were as cryptic as "Travel where it was red and blue - but not anymore, now yellow and blue will open the door" [Answer: the Broadway Theater where The Color Purple (red and blue) once played, but now Shrek (yellow and blue) is playing.] Or "Travel quickly through the stormy night, to see the NHL and NFL fight" [Answer: the Palace Theater, home of West Side Story and the (NHL San Jose) Sharks and the (NFL New York) Jets.] Told you they were cryptic. But fun none the less!

*Wednesday we began collecting for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids by stopping the show at the final applause and making an audience appeal for donations. Our "Sky", Eric Morris, well spoken and articulate, made a generous and gregarious speech to a very appreciative crowd. Not just seeking donations, items are also sold, including our signed posters ($40), CD's of various Broadways casts singing Christmas carols ($20), a Mamma Mia apron ($30) and a Mamma Mia recyclable grocery bag ($10). The sentiment is well placed and altruistic, but (and I know this is an unpopular opinion) I think it's a bit much to do it after every show for six weeks. Talk about gilding the Lilly!

*Amidst all the offstage hoopla, I do enjoy my time onstage enormously and often, still, find myself looking at other actors in various moments and find some small discovery of joy or happiness. I think, ultimately, that the core of my character "Bill" is all about joy and adventure. He's a real man with many dimensions, but he's an action taker who doesn't wait for things to happen to him. He goes out there and looks for it. And that's what appeals to me!

Credit Where Credit Is Due

2009-10-27T11:32:00.012-04:00

I play hockey with a bunch of crybabies! Everybody wants their 15 minutes of fame and apparently they think I can give it to them. Assuming anyone beyond my family reads this blog, I now bestow celebrity and stardom on the following slackers:
Doug, aka "Bert", aka "Kovalov"- you're a weaselly puck hog, but you're also an artist so you get a bye.
Scotty - if you weren't such a (word I can't print here), you'd be okay too.
Uri - there, "Stinky", I mentioned your name, now stop complaining!
Coco the Racist Goalie - haven't seen you for a while, we miss your whitty, racist comments.
Fuzzball - Where the hell are you? Raising gerbils in Chicago?
Paulie - When you're not hungover, you're great between the pipes.
Billy - Ditto, only in front of the pipes.
Big Nick,aka "Gigantor", aka "The Ice Manatee" - Your girlfriend Scotty called, wants you to pick up some tampons at the grocery store.
Big Mike, aka "The Snow Ape" - Thanks for the continual supply of lefty equipment.
Terry - Seems you got swallowed up at the U.S. Open. Venus Williams shove a ball down your throat, too?
Val, aka "Valishnikov" - you're socks look snazzy, but you gotta finish, my friend.
I'm sure I've missed a few and I know I'll hear about it, but for a ragtag group of posers, it's more fame than you deserve.
Best,
Minut, aka "The O.C."
There, now that that's out of the way, we can get back to the business of "The Mia", as we call it.

Monday's show was like a group hangover, only with a great audience. They were very into it, but the end of a long weekend, and the knowledge that we're still in the middle of a 13 show run left us reeling from the long weekend. But we're pros, so we take it in stride and move on.

Great Weekend!

2009-10-25T23:50:00.001-04:00

Unbelievably exciting day and matinee performance! Not sure why, considering it's a humid, rainy day in NYC (and weather always seems to effect theater audiences), but I'm thrilled for it since my Aunt Kathy and Cousin Amy are here, visiting from Ohio and celebrating a certain someones 70th Bday! Happy Bday, Aunt Kath!
Funny clout moment of the day: I called Joe Allen Restaurant, the famous theater hangout, for dinner reservations for us and was told they were all booked up. Then I "mentioned" that it was too bad, "I can only make it between my shows."
"What show is that?", I was asked.
"Well I'm in Mamma Mia, so I can only make it for early dinner. And I DID work for Joe in the past - I was a waiter at Orso Restaurant (owned by Joe Allen).
The maitréd's response? "Well sir, you need to tell us these things first. Of course we have a table for you." MM! membership has its privileges.
*And if the matinee was fun, the evening show was beyond! What a day! Must have been something in the air. Responsive, excited - full audience on their feet by the end! When they're clapping along during "Take A Chance", we know they're a good audience. Favorite moment? After the show and the cool down and the exit and the autographs outside the stage door and the walk through a rain-soaked Times Square and getting to my gate at Port Authority Bus Terminal I'm waiting in line for my bus with a young couple I'm front of me - a well dressed Indian gentleman and quite pleasant date. After 5minutes of waiting, and some odd staring, he finally asks, "Are you with the...are you in the Mamma Mia?"
"Yes, I am."
You would have thought he was meeting Gandhi himself.
"Oh my gosh! It is you! I thought you were him, cause you look like him, the beard and all... Look-" he points out to his compatriot, "It's him! You were wonderful. The whole show - wonderful. Wonderful! So much fun!" And he went on like that for the whole bus ride. It was delightful, again, to chat with fans who are so appreciative of not only my work (which is nice to hear) but of the show itself. Believe me, it's hard to come down from a day like this. I didn't get to bed till almost 2:30am!
*Sunday, a different story. Nice audiences, receptive, but not very enthusiastic. We all felt like we were performing a show with a big group hangover. Whew!
*We're now we're halfway through a 13 show run. Brutal, but challenging!

I Went To The Theater And A Baseball Game Broke Out!

2009-10-22T23:11:00.012-04:00

I was brought up to believe that you were nice and respectful to people. Especially your elders. Decency and kindness were inbred in me. I'm from the Midwest. It's a trait that I fought against most of my youth. I wanted to be different, unique. Not rude, but I never wanted to follow the status quo. I wanted to be "different". I decided to be an actor. To come to New York, where the action is. Where people speak their mind and get what they want and "don't take no crap from nobody!" That's what I wanted, too. I thought. Now, I'm not so sure.
I watched the Yankees battle the Angels tonight in the ALCS (you would think there wasn't a show!) and I came to a realization: In Detroit - the place of my youth, the home of my heart, the anchor of my soul - in Detroit, we hope to win. We hope to succeed. We hope that with enough hard work and resilience and dedication (and maybe a little bit of luck) that we'll succeed and win that Pennant or that Stanley Cup or that we'll survive this economic downturn and come out the better for it. We hope, with decency and humility as our backbone, that these things will come to pass.
In New York, they EXPECT it. With no humility, no decency, little forgiveness and simply no class. It's crass and ugly and comes at you like a truck driver on NoDoz.
"When we win (not if, but when), it's because we deserve it! Not that we've worked hard or dedicated ourselves to the task or overcome obstacles (many of which may be true), but simply because we're New Yorkers and we're entitled to it. Period. And everyone else can go f --- themselves. And if by chance we should lose, anyone else's victory is inconsequential because it's not a New York victory." To quote Billy Joel, this is the "New York state of mind."
I'm glad I've made the realization. It allows me the clarity to do my job unfettered from the vagaries of petty regionalisms (Go Tigers!) and focus on the task at hand. The job and task I love to do so much. Act.

The Brazilians Are Coming!

2009-10-21T23:35:00.002-04:00

Astonishing to me that 25years into this business (the allotted time for an actor to fully develop, according to David Mamet) I can still feel like an impostor and completely insignificant. A shocking admission, I know, but sometimes I just feel like I've worked so hard to get where I am, and then I ask myself, "Where am I?" Working on Broadway, yes, but then what? Security? Happiness. I ask myself these questions and then, of course can only answer them with a resounding "Yes"! (Well, maybe not yes to job security, but in this economy I'm doing okay.)
Wednesday night on Broadway, but feels like a Monday since yesterday was day off. Again, no day off as I spent it with my son at the New York Botanical Gardens in the Bronx. Too close to the Yankees for comfort.
But I digress - what a 180° turn from LAST Wednesday audience. This one? Alive! Vibrant! Really into the show!
And it showed after, as well. Walked out the stage door to resounding applause and a very appreciative group of Brazilian fans. Most from Sao Paolo, some from Rio de Janiero, they were gaga over the show. Gross generalization here, but the girls all seems gorgeous and the guys all swarthy and suave and debonair. All were effusive in their enthusiasm,and that can make a long night of Swedish pop songs more than bearable, ebullient!

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

2009-10-19T23:39:00.001-04:00

Apologies for the delay. I too often make the excuse, but there never seems to be enough time in the day to eek out a new post. Here we go:

Busy weekend after an arduous start. If you recall, last week's audiences were less than generous, but they made up for it on Friday night. What a house! Loud, boisterous, really into the show and on their feet. The thrill continued through the weekend, both shows Saturday and especially Sunday matinee. Who'd a thunk it? But they rocked! Really loved it! And I continue to be amazed and very appreciative of all the visitors at the stage door who simply want to say hello, maybe get a picture taken or an autograph and express their appreciation for the show. A real treat to be a part of it.

Also got a personal surprise when my oldest brother John called me from out of the blue at 11:30 Friday night to say he was flying in from Boston the next morn - at 8:45 am! He's spending 2 months at Harvard Business School in this high powered Executive Education program. Sounds fascinating, actually, living and working with business executives from all over the globe. But he wanted to see his daughter, my niece, Erica, a freshman at Manhattan College in Riverdale. A pair of smarties, these two. It was great to spend a little time with them in the city. They didn't get a chance to see the whole show, but they did get to witness the last few minutes, including "Spandex Man"! Hopefully they're not scarred for life. I know they're coming back in November to see the full event, so I'm looking forward to that.

The other BIG surprise was that Sunday, October 18, was the 8th Anniversary of the Broadway Production of MM! WOW, do these people know how to party! We went to Toloache, this great Mexican Bistro on 50th St. right down the street from the theater. The show came down early, as it does on Sunday night, about 9:30. By 9:40 we were at the bistro, by 9:45, drinking Margaritas! And damn good one's too! Wow! The food was excellent, but the booze - margaritas, sangrias, lord knows what else - flowed freely for the better part of three hours, or at least that's how long we almost stayed. And I cannot tell a lie - I'm not as young as I used to be! Every time my drink was 3/4 empty, they'd take it away and replace it with a new one, so I never really knew how much I was drinking. Well, I found out this morning! Man, did that hurt!

But what a blast we all had. It was great to finally have a chance to talk with some of the people I have been working with for the last 2 months. Strange thing, that. You spend months at work, singing and dancing on stage with some of these people (sometimes nearly have naked!), and yet you know nothing about them. Who knew, for example, that my new friend Annie was a wine connoisseur on the side? Fascinating. And David our musical supervisor? His partner Michael, one of the funniest and driest wits I've ever met! Hilarious! (Even funnier, I suppose, after kicking back a few Margs!) But it was so great to meet so many fun and new people - and what a release from the show! Many thanks go out to our General Manager Nina Lannan for putting on such a Ritz. It was a blast! And many congrats to all involved for creating such a wonderful show that has lasted for 8 years. Here's to another 8!

Monday's show was a tough but welcome recovery from the previous nights antics. We all felt a bit sluggish, but still gave a great performance. The audience was a bit on the quiet side, as Mondays tend to be, but appreciative none-the-less. Met a very sweet woman and her three girls after the show who were in New York all the way from Southern Illinois to see their first Broadway show. What a thrill to think it was ours.

I continue to be awed by the blessing in my life that is Mamma Mia!

Tough Crowd

2009-10-14T21:18:00.013-04:00

Okay, I'm just gonna say it - not the best audience we've ever had. In fact - well, let's just say, in the spirit of Rodney Dangerfield, "Tough crowd. Tough crowd!" (I could also say "I get no respect", but I wouldn't go that far.)
It was a tough crowd, though. Tough to capture, tough to please. The beauty of theater is that every night, every show is new and unique. You never know what you're gonna get. They certainly paid attention - even clapped along during the entré act for Act Two, but somehow we knew we just didn't have them. Or at least it felt that way for most of the show. I felt confident that by the end we'd get them on their feet. And sure enough, when the "rock concert" that is the finale - "Mamma Mia", "Dancing Queen", and our secret weapon "Waterloo" washed over them, the kool aid had taken effect and they were sedentary no longer. It's like a drug. A prescription that works every time. Astonishing.
___________________________________

Okay, I can't tell a lie. I wrote that post before the end of the show, halfway through the second act. I was projecting, putting a positive spin on things. Hoping for the best. Boy was I surprised!
I am so angry right now! Angry at the audience! I know, "Who do I think I am? They paid their money, they can do what they want". Yeah, yeah, I know, but come on! I killed myself out there. We all did! Show a little appreciation. It started when we got no applause after "Take A Chance." None! Not a peep! What gives? Allison and I killed ourselves out there. And we're frickin' funny, dammit! Nothing?
Then, in the final number, "Waterloo", the killer-of-all-killers, the sure fire-get-them-on-their-feet, leave-nothing-on-the-table number --- nothing! Well, okay, something, but a very little something. Heads bobbing, small, placid grin on the face. Satisfaction, but hardly jubilation! And the worst offenders? Right down front - FRONT ROW - aisle seats (if you're reading this, you know who you are!) They had the gall - the GALL - to actually stay in their seats! Didn't budge! Sure they smiled and clapped a bit, a knowing grin of satisfaction on their faces. But I wasn't buyin' it.

"If you're gonna come to my house, you're gonna ROCK!"

But alas, nothing. Disgusting. I can only hope and expect that future audiences will show more self respect and behave accordingly. As John and I quote each night before our final entrance (and in the infamous words of AC/DC),
"For those about to rock, we salute you!"

Mondays and Gerbils

2009-10-12T21:57:00.011-04:00

Monday night on Broadway. It just sounds wrong. But hey, producers gotta sell tickets, especially in a tough economy. And boy did they ever! Another sold out - or close to it - show tonight. But after Friday night, 2 Saturday and 2 Sunday shows, it always feels like we're tripping over something as we do the Monday night show. Just not quite in step.

Martha our resident director was here tonight, gave us a few notes after the show. It's a double edged sword; on the one hand, indignation -"Whaddya mean I need to raise the stakes in that scene?" "Quicker? But that bit is playing perfectly" - on the other, relief - "Oh thank God you're watching. I don't want the show to become a parody of itself." I think it's too easy for a show like MM! to get away from the core of it's sweet story and just become a parody, pandering itself - and the performance - to the audience. But we're a long way from that.

And now under the category of "From the mouths of babes" comes this gem:
First, some background. If you've yet to see the show, or read my bio, you can link to it here: http://www.mamma-mia.com/broadway/cast_PATRICKBOLL.asp
The final line of my bio reads: "Patrick lives in New Jersey with 2 children, 2 labrador retrievers and one wife." My sad attempt at dry humor.
My 6 year old boy's best friend Miles was babysitting his class gerbil over the weekend. My son loves it so much he decides he's going to ask for one for Christmas. Suddenly he becomes distraught: "But Dad, I can't get a gerbil."
"Why not, buddy?"
"Cause it'll mess up your bio in the program."
Is this kid wicked funny, or am I just being a proud papa?

Sunday Thoughts....

2009-10-11T23:15:00.004-04:00

Sunday things I've yet to touch on -

* Friday's show was a terrific audience, enlivened by the fact that the production was shooting B-roll; footage to be used in commercials and promotional material for the show. Ray, our very funny "Eddie" in the show, was on a Jet Blue flight recently and saw a MM! promo and realized he was in it! He didn't even know it was out there.
The audience was amazing but they really threw the three Dad's off our game as we got major entrance applause. We never get that! We had to hold for a few seconds, waiting for it to die down before we continued. Strange but fun.

*Facial hair, let's just talk about it. I knew, deep down, that it was coming. It happened last week, actually, when Sandy our hair supervisor came to my dressing room and told me that word had come down from on high that David and I looked too similar and something had to be done. It was decided I should try and grow facial hair. I can grow a quick beard - 4 days and it's in. Well, they loved it - very scruffy and rugged. And a pain in the ASS for me! Now for the next year I gotta walk around looking like I lost my razor three days ago, and it itches like hell! Anything for theater - and Braun. They should pay me for sponsorship!

*And now, a word or two about choreography. When you're taught a dance step, you should do it every time. I was having so much fun tonight in our finale singing "Waterloo" that I messed up not one or two steps, but literally EVERY step. Embarrassing; and yet not, because ultimately it's all about the joy, and believe me, I was spreading it.

*Favorite moment - walked out the stage door and met an elderly woman and her 83 year old, wheelchair bound, disabled mother from County Claire in Ireland, here to see their first Broadway show ever - Mamma Mia! I'm humbled. Both were ecstatic and loved it.

I repeat the immortal words of Jerry Orbach, "They must pay us for the waiting around, because surely we would do the acting for free!"

Playoffs & Posters

2009-10-10T21:49:00.016-04:00

I hate not writing, even if it's only for a few days, because I feel like I'm neglecting all the good backstage dish! It's constant activity behind the scenes and it changes every minute of every day. Case in point:

David and I not only share a dressing room but we've become the focal point, the gathering place for much of our floor because we have a TV. We didn't bring it, it was there when we arrived. And at this time of year, when baseball playoffs rule the airwaves, we're everyone's best friend. The games are constantly on, with fellow cast members checking in on scores and stats. The thought is not lost on us, either, on how unique this situation is - a musical theater production full of "straight" actors interested in sports and athletics and full of testosterone. But sometimes, it rears it's ugly head, with uproarious results.

The question was begged this evening (by yours truly, an admitted Detroit Tiger LOVER and New York Yankee HATER) that perhaps my issue with said baseball team is that in adopting the "championship or bust" attitude, they may have lost sight of any humility they once had. But perhaps the real problem was not that they could win or lose in the playoffs (by the way, when was they last time they were in the playoffs, or in the World Series, or won the World Series? Champs? How about Chumps! Detroit was in the World Series 2 years ago. Yankees? 8! Anyway...), but that they simply tried to BUY their way to a championship - unsuccessfully, so far. Well, this bit of reality does not sit well with certain of my fellow cast members who are strong Yankees fans. A certain cast member became incensed at the idea the the Yankees would buy themselves a championship and he went on to list a (small) group of player who were "homegrown", who came out of the Yankees farm system. He neglected to acknowledge, however, the overwhelming amount of Yankees that have been bought and paid for (A-Rod, CC Sabathia, AJ Burnett, Mark Texiera) with more millions ($) than the GNP of many African nations! The vehemence and vociferousness with which this cast member unleashed his vitriol was both shocking and absolutely hilarious! Who knew he loved the Yankees so much? Now I know the buttons to push.

The show continues to be a joy to perform. Audiences are deeply appreciative and I'm amazed that they show up at the backstage door after each show. Many people take pictures of themsleves with cast members. I'll try and get some to email me pics and I'll start posting them.

We're gearing up for fundraising season, the time of year when Broadway shows gather money for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids, an organization dedicated to helping those who are living with the disease. Among the many fundraisers are the selling of autographed posters, so the signing begins now, with hundreds and hundreds of Mamma Mia! posters, nearly a thousand in all, circulating throughout the dressing rooms. Sherry Cohen, part of our fantastic Stage Management team, flits about the dressing rooms carrying stacks and stacks of posters, making sure that everyone signs in their allotted spot on the board. There is a "master copy" to which she can refer to make sure everyone in the cast - 33 in all - have attached their John Hancock. A daunting task.

I think I prefer the shorter postings from last week, so I will try and post with more frequency, but less content. Less is more, no?

Two more shows today (Sunday), one tomorrow, then we get a day off. A day off for an actor with two children in different schools is an oxymoron - like a "deafening silence" - but at least I get a day off from the show. Actually, it may be a day off, but it's not a break. I love doing the show!

Sunday With The Fans

2009-10-04T16:52:00.009-04:00

I was a bit taken aback today to see the theater not nearly as full as it has been. Talk about spoiled! I've just been expecting a full house every time and suddenly there are empty seats. Gotta be careful of that, cause you start to think, "Well, less seats, less intense performance." Not true. In fact, just the opposite. It takes even more focus and energy for a show like this. Each house, each performance deserves the best that we can give. That's what I believe. And you never know who might be out there.
The fan base for this show is wide and varied, and it's wonderful to see. They come in all shapes and sizes, too. As I walked out the stage door, there were two of the youngest and cutest little girls, obvious fans of the show as their outstretched programs and MM! T-shirts denoted. One wanted her shirt signed, so I obliged. But the real fun came as I stood up, only to be accosted by four obvious middle aged men, tourists, seeing the show on a lark. They wanted to get their picture with me and wanted to congratulate us on a great show. How do I put this delicately? After years in the "biz" I have a petty good "gay-dar": it was not going off. It was not even registering! These were four straight men, obvious tourists, out for a good time, seeing our show. What a treat it was to meet them and know that they were entertained. Makes my job fun.

____________________________________

And then tonight's show. Wow, what a difference. Huge house, full of enthusiasm and energy, made it a delight to do the show. Especially since Sunday night, end of a long weekend (with one more to go), it's a tough show!
And a again the fans! I'm beginning to understand how this show touches people on such a unique level. Let's just say I'm not the quickest dresser (my wife says I take forever, and I was the last one out), but there, waiting patiently was a gentleman who had come all the way from Germany to to see this, his 40th show! Let me spell that out - fortieth show! Of Mamma Mia! He has seen it all over Europe, Canada, the North American tour, and now Broadway. Again. And he said he might come back tomorrow night, too.

It's wonderful to think we give so much joy to people that they feel compelled and welcomed enough to come back again and again. Thank you, fans. You are amazing!

Well, one more show tomorrow and we rest. Whew, I need it!

Two Shows And A Snotty Nose

2009-10-03T21:51:00.011-04:00

So excited to do two shows again. My cold has really subsided, though it helped that I took a hot shower last night and tried, for the first time, an "improvised" Netty pot, which is a kind of nasal douche. I took a cup of hot water, mixed in some salt, got in the shower and took an old medicine dropper of my kids and sprayed warm saltwater up my nose. Wow! It was disturbing, painful, somehow slightly erotic, and in the end left me dizzy and gagging - laughing hysterically as I blew snot and salt water all over myself! Thank God I was in the shower.
That done, I got a good nights sleep, ready for today's shows.
They did not disappoint. Terrific audiences for both. Really responsive, loving the show. I'm especially having fun with the "Take A Chance" scene with Allison. She's so great to work with, so receptive and open. I know she's enjoying it as much as I am and the payoff comes with the audience's enthusiastic response. It's just gotten better each time and what's wrong with bringing them a little joy, I ask you that?!
Can't wait for two more tomorrow!

Friday Night In Times Square!

2009-10-02T23:14:00.010-04:00

Times Square on a rainy Friday night. The energy is electric. Hard to explain how this place pulsates - courses through my veins like blood pumping on steroids! Unbelievable.
The show had that same energy tonight. It was fantastic! The audience was great - fully alive! Pulsing. All cylinders clicking.
I'm sure I'm being far too optimistic - I've been accused before - or maybe it's just the wide-eyed Michigan boy buried deep inside me, but I can't see it ending! Nor do I want it too!

Sesame Chicken & Platform Shoes

2009-10-01T21:54:00.009-04:00

I was too worried by the end of the day yesterday, so first thing this morning was a visit to Dr. Meehan, my main man. Luckily, my fear of a sinus infection (which is what I usually end up with) was unfounded and I was merely diagnosed with a cold. Whew! Little worried there.

Then it was of to T.O.Dey's for the fitting. We're still trying to get the big platform boots right for the end of the show, and today (I think) we solved it. Funniest part was seeing other customers watch me try them on, to which one commented, "Nice boots."
I responded, "People pay $120 a night to see me wear these boots!"

Next was the photo shoot. A lot of set ups, but I was only in three of them. The first two were of the three Dad's arrival, a moment of joy and exuberance. The second was a bit more reflective as the Dad's sing "Thank You For The Music" with "Sophie" (Alyse). Then there was a long wait (nearly two hours) before Allison and I did the shot for "Take A Chance". I was not very pleased with these shots, mainly because of my positioning, so that's my own fault. We'll see how they turn out - actually everyone will because these are the pictures for the front of the theater!

Got through that, had a long dinner break - what happened to all the good Chinese food spots in the theater district? No good Sesame Chicken anymore? Kam Wei, West Side Cottage, they're all GONE! - then back for the evening show.

It's funny how, even sick and feeling under the weather, it's not hard to get it together and do this show. It's hard not to get caught up in the exuberance each and every time. The hard part is the fall after. Coming down from the high after the show takes a little bit of time, and I'm not getting to bed till nearly 1am, which is hard when I have to get up at 6:30 to take kids to school.

Ah well, an actors life for me...

Feelin' It!

2009-09-30T23:00:00.000-04:00

I've been challenged to more posting, less words. Let's try it this week and see how it goes.

Biggest problem starting this weeks performance schedule is the MASSIVE sinus headache that woke me up at 4am. My head was pounding and I was feelin' it. I spent the day trying to rest, worrying how I would feel by tonight's curtain. Happy to report by the end of the day I was still tired and feeling the effects of stuffed sinus' (sini?) but the show went great. I'm starting to feel solid in the gig now - solid enough to know that if I screw up - a line, a move, whatever (which I do often!) - I can quickly correct it and get back on track. Besides, the show is just way too much fun to fret over mistakes.

It was great to see my agents Michael & Christina there tonight. He's had a "Dad" in the show since it opened 8 years ago, so it was nice of him to come. He had an interesting opinion, observing that this was the "Meisner" version of MM!, meaning that it was more "real" and a little less "out there" and "musical theater-y". I took it as a compliment, as we're trying to tell this story from a more organic, less "schtick-y" place. The challenge will be to continue that performance.

Tomorrow, another shoe fitting at T.O.Dey, master shoe maker, and photo call!

1 Down, 51 To Go (Weeks, That Is...)

2009-09-26T20:46:00.030-04:00

Okay, I'm not gonna lie. I spent nearly two hours yesterday writing what I thought was a very good posting. I had been saving it along the way, was all set to publish it when - BAM! - I hit the back button or something and erased it ALL! I was not happy, to say the least. In fact, I basically gave up on writing for the day and spent the rest of the time - including the final show of my first week - complaining to anyone who would listen. There, now that I've got that off my chest, I'm done. Thank you to everyone who listened to me complain yesterday - you know who you are - and I love you for it!

That said - What a ride! This has been, and continues to be, an absolutely amazing journey, and it's only just begun!

Last Tuesday's debacle-ous beginning was followed by one day of budding joy after another. I say "budding" because it took time for it to evolve, obviously. Each show, each performance, grows and deepens and becomes not only cleaner in my understanding of it, but more fun to perform each time. It's very hard, neé impossible, to describe the kind of joy that is MM! I know that sounds a bit Pollyanna-ish, but it's true beyond anything I can remember.

Wednesday started with a note session, just going over how the first show felt (like purgatory survived) and what can be done to improve on it (plenty). I continued to refine my "Voulez Vous" dance steps, and I must say, to my overwhelming relief and eventual happiness, I suddenly knew I had nailed it! In fact I have quickly found that what I most dread has become what I most anticipate! It is a whirlwind of energy and buoyancy and once the steps become second nature, which they quickly have with repetition, it's like a roller coaster - buckle down and get ready for the ride of your life. Eight times a week! How quickly the tide turns, considering not more than a week ago I nearly broke down in tears at the thought of VV. I admit that I wear my heart on my sleeve - or as Allison our show astrologist notes, I have "water" in me - maybe a bit of Pisces. Whatever it is, what was once tragic is now the opposite: De-tragic? Un-tragic? Non-tragic? Whatever - I call it a kick!

Thursday was the first time I considered the idea of a long running show and what it might take to sustain the energy for that. But I was still in the "What am I doing next?" mode, constantly on edge for fear of missing an entrance, so there was little time to linger on that thought..

Friday, however, was a theatrical enlightenment on many levels. (It was also the beginning of the long, 6 show weekend with Friday night, Sat matinee and night, Sunday matinee and night, and Monday night still ahead of us. It's a grueling schedule and for those who have asked me if I actually do all the shows? The answer is yes. Everyone in the cast does every show - eight per week. There are understudies and covers in case someone gets injured or sick, but short of that malady, we do every show. And even though I'm in good shape, I can already feel the effects of the raked stage on my knees. But I digress...)

Friday brought many discoveries that I suppose, if I had thought hard enough, I knew might come, but were a surprise none-the-less.

Creating a performance is a bit like the old "peeling an onion" comparison, only in reverse. In the beginning I find that I spend so much time worrying about where I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to do and when I'm supposed to talk that I rarely see beyond the tip of my nose. Typical actor, I know, but it's all part of my process. It's not a conscious choice, but rather a survival mechanism to stay afloat. It's also, I daresay, at the core of every actors character. An actor has to know these basic elements, without which he or she will be adrift onstage. Friday night was the first performance that I realized "Oh, I am, in fact, NOT the only one on stage. Interesting..."

The second stage of this creation involves getting past the tip of my nose and relaxing enough and allowing myself the freedom, really, to "see" the other things onstage like props ("Oh, I never noticed that guitar onstage. Has that always been here?"), lights ("Oh, there's the light? No wonder I'm in darkness over here."), sets ("Damn that wall is big. Has it always been that big?") and even other actors ("Wait, are you in this scene? Have you always been in this scene?"). Funny as that may sound, Friday night was my watershed moment, when I started to take in all these elements of MM!, and not see them as mere props in my own one person show.

The final layer of the "onion" is acknowledging and embracing our unspoken and, until last Tuesday unseen, scene partner - the audience. Doing that first show on Tuesday night in front of that first audience, as I have said, was literally like being shot out of a cannon, and Wednesday wasn't much easier. There's little to prepare you for the experience of standing in front of 1500+ people, you just have to suck it up and hope for the best. But by Friday I was able to, again, allow myself the freedom to explore new elements of the show, one of them (and in some ways the most important) being the audience. Now I'm of two minds here. On the one hand, the audience is the unspoken scene partner, sitting on the other side of this large, cavernous space (which, as you're saying words that someone else has written and breaking out into [Swedish Pop] songs, you have to admit is a very strange thing!), voyeuristically observing your every move and vocal intonation and emotional nuance, hoping to glean some bit of understanding or entertainment or emotional response themselves. They are the eyes that peer through the window, watching the proceedings from afar, and thus are to be revered at best and simply ignored, at worst. But they are never to be acknowledged, never to be looked at beyond the "4th wall" as someone else in the room. That's one school of thought.

The other, and in my mind more realistic, is that they are part of this community that has come together to share in this one time only experience. Every show is different, every performance is different, so what they see tonight will never happen in their lives, or mine, again, and that can change someone forever. They are not just sitting, waiting to get their drivers license renewed or to see the dentist - they have come to the theater in anticipation of what? Something. An experience, an event, or maybe just an evening of entertainment. Whatever it is, it is a vital connection with me and my fellow actors on stage and requires not only my fully focused effort but an openess and willingness to fully participate, too. I take that obligation seriously, as do my fellow castmates, and I have to say it's electric!

There are two observations I have made along the way that I find very interesting and singularly MM!:
#1 - Every night, as I enter the stage for my first scene with my other Dad's, John and David, I look into the audience and see the same thing - the women or wives or girlfriends sitting up eagerly in anticipation of the next moment, excited to be there. And next to them are the men and the husbands and the boyfriends, "putting up" with being there, heads in hands, dutifully watching our proceedings, wondering what the score of the game is or when they're gonna get the chance to finish that work or whatever. Every show I see this. But...
Two hours later, as our curtain call commences and "Mamma Mia" turns into "Dancing Queen" turns into "Waterloo", they are on their feet, singing and dancing and having a blast. They didn't know why they came - now they know. Every time! Amazing!
And #2 - MM! opened on October 18, 2001, nearly eight years ago, and yet every night, just before I make that entrance with John and David, I take a peek around the corner of the curtain - and spy nearly 1531 seats full, with more people standing in the back. What a thrill!

My other big thrill came over the weekend when my family finally got to see the show. A perfect day to spend in the theater as the rains came down outside, the following are reviews:
My son - "My favorite part was when we came home after the show". He was a bit grumpy.
My daughter - "Dad, after seeing you in that red spandex, I think I'm damaged for life".
My wife - "Nice codpiece..."

Saturday night we said goodbye to Rina Saltzman, our company manager who's been with the show since the beginning. She's off to CM BILLY ELLIOT in Chicago and I wish her nothing but the best. We talked of MM! and it's success and what it means and she shared this wonderful thought: (I'm paraphrasing a bit)

"From the very beginning Judy (Craymer, our producer) and Nina (Lanan, our general manager) and everyone involved knew what this show was about. It's not brain surgery. We're not reinventing the wheel. It's a show full of love and joy, and that's our gift to the audience. Joy. Is there anything wrong with that?"

If It's Tuesday, This Must Be "Opening"!

2009-09-24T23:00:00.001-04:00

Tuesday was a day I wanted to end as soon as it began. Have you ever woken up, lying in bed, wishing that the day was already over? That was Tuesday for me. Let's start with he fact that I only got about 3 hours of sleep. (Can you say nerves, anyone? How long have I been in this business? How many shows have I done?) And when I wasn't sleeping soundly (HA!) I was lying in bed, sweating and panting, sure that my MM! debut was about to be revoked due to the untimely heart-failure DEATH of Bill!

Alas, I made it through the night and began the day in the usual way which involves getting kids up and dressed and ready and off to school - nothing to write home (or a blog) about there. Knowing it was to be a full day, I was foolish enough to add to it by thinking that a quick swim would help settle me. Off I ran to the Stevens Institute pool in Hoboken for a quick dip. I'm thinking 8:45, in the pool for a bit, then get to the theater by 1 with plenty of rest between.

NOT!

As I'm driving to the pool, of course my fabulous commercial agent Tracy calls me from Abrams Artists to implore me to make it to a 10:15 audition for "Humira", a pharmaceutical product of unknown origin. It's a "National Network" commercial, which mean if it's shot and if it airs and if it runs, it can make an actor a lot of money. A lot of ifs, but worth the risk. So when the pharmaceuticals call, actors must answer.

Thus my luxurious swim is cut short and turned into a sprint to swim a few dozen laps before I dash home and shower and shave and dress and do all those actor-y things that actors do to get ready for an audition.

By the time I got there, nearly 30 minutes late at 10:40, they were well into the session, but I know the casting director (Martine) and she's genuinely happy to see me there, so my tardiness is quickly forgiven, thank God! (Note to self and others - it's not recommended, being late; but if you are, try the cute and gregarious method of sucking up the the casting director as I do. It'll probably get you nowhere, but at least you'll feel you tried your best.)

And of course an audition (even one of the commercial nature) never goes nearly as fast as you'd like it, with the various hallway greetings and errant chit chat. By the time I get out, it's just after 12noon - time enough to grab a sandwich (my favorite Italian BMT at Subway) and get to the theater.

Thank God for my new best friend Beth Leavel! My new BF because, as I walk in the door, lamenting the day and wishing, in that strange "I-love-what-I-do-but-I-want-all-the-hype-and-pressure-to-go-away" way, the day to be over, she agrees and we share the desperation of the moment together. We just want to work. To be actors and do the job we're hired to do. She knew exactly what I meant and understood why three hours sleep is not enough!

I can't lie and say that it wasn't a thrilling day, because it was. From beginning to end. To finally get on the set, everyone, returning cast and newbies, in full costume, full out production mode, was breathless. I'm actually writing this three days later and I'm only now beginning to catch my breath. So you can imagine what Tuesday was like.

We got through the run thru fine and everyone seemed to hit their marks well, with no major pitfalls. Obviously with this many newbies in the show there were bound to be f--- ups, but that's to be expected. Following the run we did have a note session in the house. I think the most remarkable thing about the note session was the swift kick I got from Allison when I was given a note but was caught sleeping in the aisle - I told you I only had three hours sleep. But I can tell you the note had something to do with my work in the "Gimme, Gimme" song. I just can't remember what it was.

After notes and a quick break for dinner (where I suddenly received dozens of texts and phone messages of well wishes from my family and friends [thank you all]), it was showtime! And it all seemed to go in a blur. But let me tell you, the foundation of my fears were right, because I've played in rather large houses before and I've performed in front of a lot of people, but 1500 screaming and supportive people, on top of not really being completely sure of what you're doing yet, can be a daunting task. As evidenced by my first entrance:

(How it should sound)
Harry: I'm glad to get off that boat.
Bill: That was nothing. You should try a kayak in the Okavango swamps.
(How it did sound.)
Harry: I'm glad to get off that boat.
Bill:...(silence)(headshaking)...pppfftt...yeh- (pause)(more headshaking)....ahhh... that was....that's boat...you - ... that's (exaggerated headshaking)... - try a kayak in the Okavango Swamps!

Brilliant!

Somewhere in the scene I'm quite sure I took a breath. Or two. And was able to finish. But I'm not sure. Really. About any of it. Even now...

Oh, but there's more.

Forging our way through the show, riding about six inches off the floor (at least it felt that way), I made it through. And though I can't say I nailed it, the big Voulez Vous dance number went fine. I felt only slightly accomplished at the thought that at least I didn't hurt anybody else. We then arrived at my big final scene, Take A Chance with my "Rosie", Allison. To say this woman, in theatrical terms, is a Saint, is giving her the credit she is justifiably due.

(How it should sound)
Bill:...I'm a writer. I made up my mind a long time ago. I walk a lone path.
(The cue which begins a series of intricately woven light and set and sound and music cues, all dependant on the line (MY line!) "I walk a lone path."
(How it did sound)
Bill:... I'm a writer. I made up my mind a long time ago. ... ... (pause)... (long pause)... (silence)... (silence and pause long enough for the audience to go back to their hotel, take a shower, return to the theater and still not miss anything.)

Finally, blessed saint and superior actress that she is, my dear Allison realizes that my Alzheimer's has suddenly taken root and I have nothing more to say and so SHE lights the candle, gives the cue and saves the day.

Well, at least I was consistent, bookending my performance with faux paux's at both ends. But believe it or not, they loved us. Apparently the rest of the show seemed to go well enough, including the astonishing performances of Beth and John and Alyse and everyone else, that the audience chose to show their appreciation with applause, and lots of it. It's all a blur at this moment, but I know the ringing in my ears was real.

After the show, we were treated yet once more, this time to the attendance of our producer, the original woman behind MM!, all the way from London, Ms. Judy Craymer. Here's the quick on her:

Judy was a stage manager in London, doing a concert version of Benny and Bjorn's musical CHESS. She spent 10 years trying to convince them to do a stage show using the pre-existing songs from ABBA. They finally relent and she mortgages her London apartment to pay for the first workshop of Mamma Mia in 1999. She procures enough money, presents the show in London, and the rest is history. And here's the final tally:

The Queen (of all): The wealthiest woman in England.

J.K. Rowling (of Harry Potter): The second wealthiest woman in England.

Judy Craymer (of Mamma Mia!): Number 3!

NUMBER frickin' 3!

And I'll bet you don't walk around humming songs from the Queen, do you?!

The after party was a real treat, a chance for everyone to let down their hair, literally, and breathe a big sigh of relief. My wife made the trek into the city just to join me in the celebration, even though she's not seeing the show till Sunday, with my children. (Please don't be scared of Daddy in Spandex!)

Thank God the show is done - now we can just get down to the task at hand and tell this wonderful and uplifting story. That's all I ever wanted, from the moment I woke up (after 3 hours of sleep) Tuesday morning.

A Little Respect, Please!

2009-09-21T22:10:00.001-04:00

I'm trying to stay to task, writing only about my MM! experience, and listen, I'm not complaining. I'm a working actor and nothing could make me happier. I'm about to open - tomorrow night! - in a hit Broadway show - Mamma Mia! There are hordes of actors out there who would give their right arm to be in my position, and I know that! I have nothing but deep gratitude for the opportunity before me and I look forward to relishing every minute of it.

HOWEVER...

You would think, or at least I did as I watched the Emmy's last night, that at least ONE of the men that I have had the pleasure of understudying over the years would give me a little SHOUT OUT! A little thank you! A little "I'd be nowhere if it weren't for the support of Patrick Boll who understudied me in (insert Broadway show title here.)" You would think...

But Nooooo....

First it was Alec Baldwin. Alec and I spent four months together in TWENTIETH CENTURY at the Roundabout Theater where I played the pivotal role of Detective Barnes as well as understudying the secondary, not so pivotal, yet lead role of Oscar Jaffe. Alec is a great guy and a wonderful man to work with. Last night he won the Emmy, for the second time, for Best Performance by a Leading Actor in a Comedy for 30 ROCK, which, if you've ever seen it, is hilarious! He gave a wonderful and heartfelt acceptance speech, except for the fact that he neglected to mention ME. Obviously a simple oversight.

Then it was my friend Michael Emerson who also won the Emmy for his performance in LOST. Michael is an amazing actor and it's a privilege to count him among my friends. Michael and I did HEDDA GABLER on Broadway during one of the most trying times our country has ever experienced - September, 2001. Our second rehearsal was to be held Tuesday, September 11. I, as most others, remember the day vividly. Though we struggled to make sense of a world seemingly gone haywire, we trudged forth, doing what we know best. Michael played the role of Tesman, husband to the ill-fated Hedda. When he was called upon to present the first of what has turned out to be many Emmy Awards over the years, I stepped into the role that I had been understudying for months. I was overjoyed to get the chance to go on and for my first time on Broadway it was an amazing experience. I'm thrilled that he won the Emmy. (I really am!) He also gave a wonderful and heartfelt acceptance speech, except for the fact that he also neglected to mention ME. Obviously, another simple oversight. Hmm..

In any event, less than 24 hours to go. Tomorrow we have a full dress rehearsal in the afternoon which includes the entire cast in full costume along with full lights, sets, props - everything but a full audience. The two days off have been good - to an extent. After the "high" of doing the run on Friday and the "letdown" of going back to the rehearsal space for notes on Saturday - in which I learned that Mick Jagger was right and "You Can't Always Get What You Want" since we came to the conclusion that no part of my costume will be changed, at this point - I think the break has given rise to two alternating feelings: 1) excitement about the experience to come, and 2) dread about the same thing!

In the end it's a moot point. At 8PM tomorrow night, the show WILL go on! There's no business like show business...

Benny, Bjorn & a Dance Belt

2009-09-19T22:00:00.003-04:00

Well yesterday was simply unbelievable! One of the coolest days I ever had in the theater - I mean ANY theater! As soon as I entered the stage door on 7th Ave there was a buzz of excitement in the hallways. I signed in at the call board, a requirement, especially in a large theater with a big cast, and proceeded up the four labyrinthine flights of stairs to my dressing room. A bit of an odd moment as I entered and realized that until next week, when I "officially" start, it is still someones else's dressing room. A dressing room, especially for an actor who's been in a show for a long run, is not just a dressing room: it is also an office and a sanctuary. It's a place to go to center one's self, prepare for the show ahead or cool down from the show just finished. It's usually filled with trinkets and mementos not only of the show but of family and faith and sustenance. So you'll understand what I mean when I say it felt a bit like walking in on someone in the bathroom - I was invading personal space, and it felt odd.

But the show must go on, as they say, so on we go'd. The first 1/2 hour was spent sorting out which costumes I wore in what scene. As much as we have gone through the costume fittings, having the actual costumes in the actual space can be very disorienting. Shirts and pants and hats and gloves and sunglasses - the one joy that I quickly gleaned from all this was I would not be alone. I will be sharing my dressing room with the immensely talented and wonderfully kind David MacDonald who will be playing Harry, so the two of us spent these first moments just sorting through our goods with our dresser Jim. Across the hall sat our Sam, my buddy John Dosset. He seemed a bit more settled, but since he had done the show a few years ago, he was already familiar with the inner workings of the Winter Garden and MM!

Once our first entrance costumes were settled on, we all headed to the house - the theater - for a quick meeting where we learned the events of the day, which included a sound check with the band for certain songs and a full run thru (with costumes, for the "newbies") followed by some notes from the director. The sound check started with sweet Alyse singing her opening anthem "I Have A Dream" and I must say, it was stunning. She has a beautiful voice, made all the better by one of the most amazing sound systems I've ever heard. Clear, precise - this is not your average "theater" sound system, this is a sound system made for a rock concert! I couldn't wait to hear more. As we went through the various songs I was thrilled to learn that one of mine, Take A Chance, was on the list. What a blast it was to stand on the stage, just Alison and I, singing through a bit of the song with a full orchestra, or in this case a 9 piece rock band. Awesome!

Then we got started on the run. I was eager to sit in the audience for bit and watch the first few scenes before I had to make my entrance. I sat house right in an aisle seat, soaking up the glorious sound and the vision of my fellow actors plodding their way through the first few moments of the show, abundant with lights and sets, when I suddenly heard a small commotion in the aisle behind me. I thought little of it since there was work being done with sound checks and various theater personnel running around. With a smile on my face I looked up to find a bespectacled, white bearded man look down at me and say, "I bet you're our Bill".

"Yes I am. My name is Patrick, actually, and I know who you are. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I'm Bjorn", came his response. And standing directly behind "Bjorn" was "Benny".

Can you say ABBA?! It was Bjorn Ulvaeus and Benny Andersson (Benny's on the left above, Bjorn on the right), the writers of our show and the founders of ABBA! I was shocked. We only spoke briefly, but what a thrill it was to have them there. Andy our Stage Manager stopped the run thru at that moment and called everyone to the stage. As whispers grew - "Why is he stopping the show? Did someone get hurt? What happened?" - he shocked everyone by introducing them to the rest of the cast. I'm not sure which was funnier, seeing Benny and Bjorn in the theater or seeing the look on some of the cast members faces when they found out they were there. I think one of the ensemble women almost fainted! In any event, they were very gracious and talked about how excited they were to see the show growing and changing again and they wished us all the best of luck. It felt as though a certain blessing from a certain God had suddenly been bestowed upon us. Now we could go forth and preach the Gospel according to ABBA. Hallelujah!

The show proceeded with gusto after that, everyone agog at their visit and excited with the possibilities. For my part, I found myself in a quandary nearly every time I stepped on stage. In my first scene, as the three possibles Dad's arrive, I walk on first and head directly down towards the edge of the stage without looking at my fellow actors. When we're all assembled, I turn to see, I mean really see, David and John for the first time in full costume and full lights, on the set, looking not like David and John but like "Harry" and "Sam". I felt like I was in another play, wondering who these men were, and what my next line was, and if they made the jacket that John was wearing (because I had never seen it before) in my size? Oh, wait, I'm in a play, I forgot?! And this kind of thing, this train of thought, this stream of consciousness continued throughout the performance. Different scene, different costume, different lights - same ecstatic, floating sensation. "Oh, there's the lovely Alison. I mean "Rosie". That's a nice looking outfit. What? Oh shit, she's talking to me and I'm supposed to say something back!? What? I have no idea. And who's that person with the sexy halter top? Singing? What singing?! Oh, it's a musical, I forgot." It's amazing that no one got hurt, that's all I can say.

No one, that is, except a bit of my ego. As the final moments of the show drew near, and my final exit from the wedding was over, I ran to the stage left dressing room where John and I don our "magic" spandex and the "real" show begins. As I stripped to the waist and then to my skivvies, prepping to slide into my skin tight spandex, Jim my dresser held up a rather skimpy piece of fabric.

"No, no. You have to lose the underpants and wear the belt".

The Belt?! What the hell was he talking about? And what he was holding up looked nothing like a belt.

"That's not a bel..." And it hit me! I remembered a discussion from long ago in a costume fitting far, far away (at Barbara Matera's) when the words "Dance Belt" were uttered. I had heard of the lore known as a "Dance Belt" (notice I pay it reverence by capitalizing each word) and thought it might be a quaint idea for a professional dancer, but certainly nothing I would have to worry myself about. Wrong. The show must go on, eh? I guess, so too, must the dance belt.

In the picture on the left you'll notice the"stylishly discreet" coverage of the frontal area. In the picture on the right you'll notice "floss". This is, without a doubt, the most uncomfortable, and nearly most painful, thing I have ever worn! I don't mind the snug fit up front, needed to cover any "religion" that might show through the spandex, but the dental floss in the back - come on, is that really necessary?! There's got to be a better way!

Apparently not, however, as I hiked up my dance belt - 45 years old, spent most of my adult life doing theater, (half of it "musical" theater) and I've never worn a frickin dance belt! - and slipped on the spandex. A lot had been added to the spandex since my first fitting, with solid glass sparkles and dangles and gussets and neckbands and wrist gauntlets adding at least 10 pounds to the costume. But I was a trooper, as they say, and I "worked it"!

The final piece of my "costume oeuvre" was the now famous, four inch heeled, custom made silver platform shoes. Inching these on proved easy, at first, as I slid my toes in, zipped up and prepared to stand. As my weight adjusted itself, however, I suddenly felt the tiny Asian concubine, feet bound, ready for service. I could barely walk, I was in so much pain! And I still had the final dance and song, "Waterloo" to get through. Does the show really have to go on? I guess so, I thought, as I traipsed out of the room, across the stage, and stormed the front, all the while singing as loud as I could to simply cover the yelps of pain I was feeling inside. Damn, the things we do for art!

Ecstasy is not the first word that comes to mind when describing this event, but it would be the most accurate. In spite of the shock of Benny and Bjorn showing up unexpectedly, the indignity of losing my Dance Belt virginity, the pain of my first official foot binding, this day was exquisite. This was the kind of day we live for in the theater. Action and excitement and thrill and self consciousness and insecurity, insecurity, INSECURITY! It's still and always why we do what we do, and I wouldn't change it for the world.

Janet's World

2009-09-17T16:04:00.019-04:00

Henry Ford once said "Never complain, never explain". Henry Ford never danced in Mamma Mia! Is there such a thing as complaining too much? I can't believe it's true, but yes, it is. And I'm now going to break Henry Ford's golden rule by complaining. Too much. And it all comes down to one word - VoulezVous! (Well, okay, two words, but still...)

Today was dance day on the set. Again, there was quite a bit of excitement in the air as we get closer to the "big day" (Tuesday, our Opening!). We combined the "newbies", those of us who are still trying to figure out what the hell we're doing, with the veterans, those "other" people who know exactly what they're doing. Most of "us" are over 40 and slow, most of "them" are under 30 and fast. Fast dancers, fast learners - fast at everything! (And I hate them!) Although with the addition of some new choreography, even they have to be on their toes. But most of them are professionals. I keep trying to convince them that this is my first show, but none of them are buying it.

Truth be told, I had a little talk with myself before we started the rehearsal and told myself that I wasn't gonna be freaked out by the dancing, no matter what happened. And I must admit, it helped. I know for a fact that I didn't hit all my marks and I certainly got a few of the steps wrong (more than once), but as they say, practice makes perfect (or in my case at least a modicum of improvement) so all was not lost. In fact I almost, ALMOST enjoyed the last moment in the dance. But I've got a long way to go, so I'm not getting my hopes up. Yet.

We started the rehearsal with a little timeline/pep talk from Andy our Stage Manager reminding us of how the schedule was going to run for the next few days until we open on Tuesday. Then we dove into a long five hour day of dancing and transitions; transitions meaning from one scene into another with all the attendant scenery changes and movement. It really is a fascinating process and it's amazing that more people aren't hurt on a daily, even hourly, basis!

For example, when Alyse and I sing Name Of The Game near the end of act one, we stand alone at the front of the stage on the "Jetty". The walls of the "house" are in and facing front. When, in the middle of my line "All right, I'll do it", Andy calls "go", an elaborate system is put into motion where the 20 foot long "Jetty" begins a quick descent 4 feet down to even out with the rest of the stage while, at the same time, the 15 foot high walls begin an enormous rotation upstage, which (when the Jetty has landed and I am safely off) I grab onto and "ride" like a carnival carousel. In the mean time, some of my fellow actors, along with members of the crew, are running onstage, between and behind the walls, setting up for the next scene, which happens to be Voulez Vous. Chairs and tables are positioned, liquor bottles and shot glasses are set, actors and actresses are entering from all corners of the stage (all of them singing, don't forget) and no one, astonishingly, gets hurt. Now anyone who has crossed a street in New York City knows the sensation of having fifty people coming at you at once, ducking and dodging each other to cross to the other side - imagine doing that with chairs and tables in your hands, singing at the top of your lungs, trying to remember lyrics and which bottle you're supposed to grab and where to set the glasses down. You get the picture. But somehow, very much like a finely tuned and choreographed dance, it all happens without a hitch. It doesn't happen at once, of course, as each moved is layered in on top of the other over the course of rehearsal, but when it's all put together - that's the magic that you see in the audience. Pretty cool huh?

Progressing through the show, we somehow, in those five hours, managed to get through the whole thing and rehearse each dance and transition and movement. Some still need fine tuning and more work, but the outline is there. Our final kudos went to our amazingly talented Dance captain (and traffic coordinator!) Janet Rothermal. To her credit, the precision and smoothness with which this all took place was, again, astonishing. I'm privileged to be working alongside such talent.

Our final, and in some ways most interesting, hour was spent in a required Physical therapy class. The show, as I've mentioned, takes place on a rake, and the repetition of the work combined with the physical demands can take an enormous toll on the body. The physical therapist was there to give us some tips on how to prevent a lot of the ailments that can accompany working on a rake. Stretches and alignments and a battery of movements - all meant to help prevent future injuries. The most interesting admonishment came to the end of the hour, and not from the PT (as we call him). It came from our current (and a "former", which is what made his comment all the more poignant) Sam, John Dossett. John told us that all this work was very important because, even though we might feel fine now, it's the "cumulative effect of working on the rake that will take it's toll on the body". He should know, he injured himself the last time he did the show. Words to heed, I think.

Tomorrow, we hit the boards full force - costumes, full staging, sets, more equipment. Usually, you might get a little more time if you were "teching" (going through technical rehearsals) a big show like this, but being a new cast in a show that's been running for this long, we're not afforded that luxury. So tomorrow is it - do or die, so to speak. The most interesting aspect will be to get on the stage with the costumes - clothes change everything about the perception of character and show.

Can't wait!

Keep On Running

2009-09-16T16:34:00.009-04:00

Well, the train keeps running and you can either get on and enjoy the ride or stand still and watch it pass you by. I consciously chose to get on board today after a much needed, though not very effective, "day off". With a house and two kids and two dogs and career in the balance, there's never a day off. There's barely an hour off. But in my life, there is little time to ponder the details.

I say "not very effective" because as days off go, I was up and going at 6am and didn't stop till midnight. I'm not gonna go through the grocery list of things - dropping kids, school chores, picking up kids, working out - but suffice to say it would make any suburban housewife proud. And I did it all with a smile on my face. Yeah, right!

But it did provide me with a bit of perspective on this coming weeks events and I realized, with the limited time we would have on the actual set, that I should make good use of it. I was determined to get to rehearsal a bit early so I could go over my material, refreshing my memory with lines, intentions and so forth. We started off the morning with a crisp look at some of my individual scenes, first with Alyse on the "Jetty" singing Name Of The Game, then the "wedding scene" where Allison and I sing Take a Chance. Both required rather large adjustments in terms of the physical and technical elements. The stage is much larger than the rehearsal hall, and though I've spent many years working in theater, there's still that excitement that comes with actually being on the set. It made me realize that I'm gonna have to "ramp up" my performance if I'm gonna reach the back of the house, and that's to be expected. But just being on the set, walking around, getting a feel for the size and scope of the theater continued to be an eye opener.

I also realized that the more intimate work we did in the rehearsal room, though it might have felt "small" on the big stage, was actually a great place to start. It's like the seedling that needs the tiny patch of dirt and sunshine to start its growth before it takes root and flourishes. If the seedling is buried deep in the ground, flooded with water and given no light and no nurturing, there's little chance for growth. If we had simply gone right to the stage, without any chance to let the scenes "grow" organically and find their footing in the truth of the moments, the performances would be two dimensional, at best, with a lot of loud and fast singing and talking, but no real connection between actors, between the "people" in the scenes. And that's really what theater is all about, no? That connection? So it was a good thing to begin those rehearsals (what seems like eons ago) in that tiny little rehearsal room, connecting with the material and the other actors in the most intimate of ways. And now we all have a base from which to move, from which, like the seed, we can grow.

Most of the day was spent with patchwork rehearsal, putting together the scenes and spending that much needed, precious time on the set, readjusting spacing and all the while deepening our connections to each other and the material. As Allison and I ran around the set, working on Take A Chance, we laughed at how much more of an aerobic workout this was proving to be in the real space, with a rake (don't forget!) that pitches us forward over 3 degrees. That might not sound like much, but when you're jumping over furniture and running up and down stairs, it adds up! We were sweating like crazy by the time we were done, realizing the workout we would be getting every night. Who needs a gym?!

We finished the day with a quick look at one last scene, the arrival on the beach. It's a short scene-let, really, in which Rosie and Bill share an awkward and sexually tension filled moment together. It didn't take long or much to find what seemed to be a good outline, and that was it. Released for the day.

Tomorrow we move to the next level, adding more elements with full props, scenery moving (there's a lot of it) and costume parts for the "newbies". It will move very fast in the next few days, feeling (I'm guessing) like the clown feels as he's shot from the Ringling Brothers cannon - a bit dazed and extremely confused, but absolutely thrilling. Come to think of it, that's what every day in this business feels like.

Lessons Learned

2009-09-14T09:17:00.012-04:00

I've been very fortunate over the last few years to teach a Master Class at Western Michigan University. I basically spend a lot of time talking to the acting students about my life and what it takes to be a "working actor", and I must say the experience is as beneficial and educational for me as it is (I hope!) for the students. I'm always delightfully surprised at the kind of questions the students come up with. This past spring, on my last visit, a student asked me, "What's the most important lesson you've learned in all your years as an actor?" I thought it was fantastic because, honestly, I'd never considered it. My gut response was that "even though I spend hours preparing for an audition, studying my lines and going over the beats (and in the case of a musical audition, learning music and singing the song and trying to understand the "gist" of the scene), and once I've walked in that door and done my best, when I exit, I try to leave it all (the prep, the anxiety, the hard work, the questioning "Did I do this right?" or "Did I do that right?") behind. I try to just walk away and move on to the next one, because otherwise I'd drive myself crazy. It's not easy to do and it's taken me many years to learn how to cope with this kind of situation, but it's probably the single most important lesson I've learned over the years. Did I mention it wasn't easy to do...?

With that in mind, I have to say that I was so frustrated with yesterday's rehearsal - and my work in it - that I couldn't even post. I had been looking forward to it, knowing full well that it would include a lot of notes from the previous day's run thru as well as review work. I knew we would run things again and again and again, not the least of which would be the infamous "Voulez-Vous" number, and I was not disappointed. What I was disappointed in was my lackluster ability, after trying somewhat strenuously to master a particular combination of the dance, to even perform it at the most elementary level. Now this kind of viewpoint is always subjective, as many of the people around me, including Janet and our Dance Captain assistant Ryan, said I was doing fine, learning in small but successful increments. But I was frustrated. I had practiced the routine over and over by myself, trying to understand the moves and get it "into my body" and felt fairly good about it. But when the moment came, repeatedly, I missed the opportunity and seemed to misstep one part or another. As my frustration level increased, so did my self-doubt, and that didn't help. Finally, we agreed to let it go for the day, but in my mind, the damage was done. We finished the day with further review of the rest of the show, but my psyche was stuck on "Voulez - Vous" and it was a tough night's sleep. Obviously I haven't mastered the art of practicing what I preach. I let my frustration of the day carry into my night - not a healthy thing to do.

As I said before, it's not easy, whether it's an audition or the work itself, to leave it at the door.

But what a difference 24 hours can make. Today was spent on the stage at the Winter Garden, and this time I was ready. I knew we were to begin with the "Dad's" arrival scene, and it was great to actually get on the stage and move around in the real space. As nice and comfortable as it feels in a rehearsal space, standing on a Broadway stage, with the width and breadth and depth of the surroundings, it fills the entire scene in a different way. I also made my own small adjustment by wearing my own cowboy boots and my own "Indiana" hat and believe it or not, something as small as that can make all the difference in the world. We ran the scene a few times, adjusting some of the spacing we had developed in rehearsal, and we got to sing more fully on the stage, which also helps to "fill out" the character. In the end it was a very successful morning, having run all the way through Beth's (Donna's) entrance singing the title song, "Mamma Mia". The end of the song is particularly fun for us three Dad's as we get to "rock out", singing about our surprise at Donna's general condition ("She's still got it!") and really letting loose for a few bars. It's a great moment!

After lunch, though, the real fun began as the entire, and this time I mean ENTIRE company got together (over 30 in all!) to sing through the show. And talk about exciting! Wow, what a thrill to hear all these young ensemble members sing the backups and harmonies. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you can have your Patty Lupone's and your Bernadette Peter's and your Betty Buckley's and any other Broadway diva you can name - I'll take the chorus, the ensemble, the hardest working, most dedicated group of people working in the theater. They were amazing! Fantastic! They sounded terrific, and made all the rest of us principal actors sound terrific, too. We sang through the entire show, beginning to end, stopping and starting here and there to "clean up" a bit when harmonies were off or entrances and exits to songs were not clear, but the main point of the session was simply to hear each other for the first time. And it did not disappoint, let me tell you!

For the last few hours we began to review, again, some dance steps. I was fully prepared (and ready to rehearse again) my favorite "Voulez - Vous", but we ran out of time before we got to the most difficult part of the dance, so it'll have to wait for another day.

Tuesday, strangely, is our day off this week, so there will be nothing to post tomorrow. But Wednesday we start in fresh on the stage, where we'll be all week until we "Open", next Tuesday. Odd to say we "Open", since the show has been running for eight years, but for us it will be an "Opening", and I can tell you we're all looking forward to it with great anticipation.

The Bear Hunt

2009-09-12T22:12:00.018-04:00

One of my favorite children's books is by Michael Rosen. It's called "We're Going On A Bear Hunt". It's a terrific story of family adventure, traipsing through the woods and the rain and the snow and the mud looking for a bear. I used to read this story to my kids every night (and still do, on occasion, cause it's just so much fun). My favorite part of the story is repeated each time they encounter an obstacle, whether it's the swamp or the wind or any of the other aforementioned encumbrances. Each time they encounter the obstacle they repeat this simple refrain: "Uh oh. We can't go over it. We can't go under it. We have to go THROUGH it." It's a wonderful metaphor for life, really. Sometimes you just come up against an issue that you can't go under and you can't go over, you just have to go through it. Today was the first stumbling run thru of "our" production of Mamma Mia. We couldn't go over it. We couldn't go under it. We had no choice but to go right through it. No one ever said it was gonna be easy.

We actually started the day with a quick review of all the dance numbers - thank God! The dancing for "Voulez-Vous", though short, continues to be the bane of my existence. I'm getting closer with each rehearsal, but it's still fairly complicated, especially for a guy with two left feet like me. Plus, I went to my FANTASTIC guru of a Chiropractor yesterday, Dr. Shire, who diagnosed what I was afraid I had - shin splints! It's a painful strain in the shin (in my case on the left side), so every time I had to spin in the dance, which is often, I felt a sharp pull on my left shin. I kept trying to stretch and massage it, but it still bothered me most of the day. My "Rosie" ("nurse" Alison) was kind enough to offer me a Ben-Gay patch which helped to alleviate some of the pain, but for the most part I struggled through. (I love being in my 40's, except when I HATE being in my 40's!) In any event, the "VV" dance review was extremely helpful, as was the review for "Gimme,Gimme,Gimme" and "Under Attack", the opening of the second act.

Finally, we were ready for the run. As our director Martha pointed out, it really is one of the few (and last) times we will ever get to see the show ourselves since, once it's up and running, we're too busy paying attention to our own roles and putting on and taking off costumes and attending to things backstage to actually "see" it, so enjoy it while we can. Well, I have to say I took her advice to heart and it was wonderful. Even with the amalgam of newbies and veteran Mamma Mia cast members, the show had that rawness and that newness that comes with a first time run thru and it was magic. Things I never saw in the script were suddenly illuminated, performances (we shouldn't call them that since we're still in "rehearsal", but that's what they are) seemed to be growing before my eyes and the room was filled with a kind of awe and wonder. Alyse ("Sophie") and her friends ("Ali and Lisa") were an explosion of energy that started the show and filled the room. My fellow "Dad's" David and John were just fantastic, at turns funny and moving and altogether full of power and nuance. Alison and Judy and Eric and Michael ("Rosie, Tanya, Sky, Pepper") were all just great, and Beth ("Donna") - my God Beth was fantastic. I had the good (or bad, depending on how you look at it) fortune of sitting a mere ten feet from Beth and Alyse as "Sophie" walks in the room with her wedding dress (there were limited props, by the way, so most of this action was mimed) and confronts her mother "Donna" about her marriage and together they sing "Slipping Through My Fingers", a paean to a youth lost and the torch of one woman's strength and independence being passed to her daughter. I'd be lying to you now if I didn't fess up to the tears streaming down my face while Beth poured out her heart to her daughter. It was raw and real and gut-wrenching and, as we all know in this biz, it will probably never be that good again. But that's the beauty of live theater. It may never be that good, but that doesn't mean we won't continue to pursue that excellence in every performance. Of course there were mistakes. In fact, I made most of them. My favorite was during "Name Of The Game" (which, as I've mentioned in previous posts, is so beautiful as Alyse sings this song of desperate yearning and longing right to my face!), when, having listened to her pour out her heart, I just stared at her, completely forgetting MY lyric and recovering only after she prompted me. Nice work, Boll!

By the end, we were all on our feet (literally). The previous posting account of the bows; silent, dancing, singing - they all went off without a hitch and we ended the day, and the run, with the ever delightful "Waterloo", sans Spandex. But it's coming, just you wait.

Tomorrow we brush up a bit, then Monday we start in full time at the theater. We're getting down to the wire, people, and the "mess" is quickly starting to congeal into something resembling the hit show. Let's hope that my dancing doesn't hold us back.

"Uh oh. We can't go over it. We can't go under it. We have to go THROUGH it!"

On Broadway

2009-09-11T19:47:00.007-04:00

So today was my first day on the stage and I cannot tell a lie - it was frickin' AWESOME! I know, I should probably try and make it sound like it was no big deal and play it cool since I've worked on a Broadway stage before, but let's be honest, it's every actor"s dream to be on Broadway, and I'm livin' it!
As usual, however, there was very little, if any, fanfare. I entered through the stage door and met the doormen, whose names escape me at the moment, and headed right out to the house (theater) to drop my bag and get my bearings. There is a sense of "been there, done that" about this entire project, mostly because, except for us "newbies", they have all "been there and done that"! But that still doesn't take away from the fact that we're doing a Broadway show. And a highly successful one at that.
Even though I'm actually a day late getting to the stage (we started yesterday but I wasn't called), it was still exciting to be standing out there, on the set, looking at a 1400 seat house, knowing that in less than 2 weeks, it's gonna be full (or nearly) and I'm gonna be singing Swedish pop songs. There goes the pinch again.
We basically did a very rough run through of the show, skipping large sections of dialogue and songs, merely to get a lay of the technical land, as it were. One of the biggest surprises for me was the "Name Of The Game" scene, which is played on the "jetty". The "jetty" is a large, slatted platform that thrusts out toward the audience, and at the beginning of the scene it hydraulically lifts about four feet off the stage. We had talked about this moment in the rehearsal space, but I was surprised at how smooth and how high the lift was. Four feet high from the audience looks much higher when you're standing on it. We (Alyse and I) worked through that scene quickly and safely and as a company got the end in a swift fashion, saving much of the work for next week, when we will have more time on the set.
It was an auspicious beginning, but I think I'll feel quite at home here at the Winter Garden Theater.
I also got a quick haircut from the hair department, which, since they are responsible for maintaining the look of my hair, was a good thing. I haven't had a haircut in months so I was starting to look a bit ratty, although that is very "Bill". We actually decided that it would be best to keep the hair long, but groomed. That way we still give Bill that adventurous look without looking like a yeti.
Tomorrow we're back at the rehearsal space. But those days are numbered, now that we've had a taste of "the Broadway"!

The Nitty-Gritty

2009-09-09T22:15:00.013-04:00

It's so weird, or maybe not so weird, that after nearly 25 years in the theater, I know exactly where we are in the process and it never gets any easier. We're now more than two weeks into rehearsal and even though it's a wonderful company, today the "newness" seemed to drop like a rock and the confusion and insecurities that accompany this moment set in. When I say "this moment", I mean this moment in the process, because it's inevitable, like water from a raincloud, like an Elvis Wedding in a Vegas Chapel, that half way through the process all the proceedings become muddled and awash in vagaries. But it's okay, because these, being the "times that try men's souls", will inevitably lead to more clarity and a more specific performance. Right now, however, it sucks!

We spent the first part of the day rehearsing the bows. Now here's an interesting point. One would think that the "bows" for a show, when, as a performer, I am allowed to take some small measure of appreciation from the audience, basking (even for a brief moment) in the glow of an audiences acknowledgement of the work I've done and, possibly (hopefully) the enjoyment I've given them, are organic, and that "taking your bow" might be a spontaneous act, a moment when, at the end of a show, the actor or actors take a moment to step forward and get their just rewards (or boos, if so deserved). This is what one would think of the bows. But not in the world of musical theater. And definitely not in the world of MM! Let me give you a quick rundown:

The closing moment, Sky and Sophie, gazing into each others eyes, love conquering all; slowly, longingly, they walk off into the blaze of a rising moon. Show's over, audience (hopefully, again) applauds. The End, right? Wrong. Only just the start.

First we run on and take what we call the "silent bows", "silent" because we don't make any noise, but the audience (hopefully) does, filling the theater with thunderous applause. Then we rush off.

Next we start the "musical bows". That begins, strangely enough, with our leading lady Beth. Strange because usually the leading lady gets the final bow, but since the show began in London, maybe they do things differently over there. In any event, after her come her two female cohorts, Tanya and Rosie: then the three Dad's including myself, then Sophie and Sky. At this point it's just the "principals", the actors and actress' who have speaking parts, taking their bows, all while singing a reprise of "Does Your Mother Know". Then we rush off.

Next comes the "Mamma Mia" bows, when the ensemble (the absolute hardest working people on the stage every single NIGHT!) sing a reprise of MM and take their bows, all while performing choreography. (Think we've had enough bows yet? We're only halfway there.) Then they rush off.

Next is the "Dynamo's bow", the "Dynamo's" being Donna and Tanya and Rosie. A virtual rock concert ensues, complete with rising platform and smoke and strobe lights, as they sing a reprise of "Dancing Queen", all while singing and dancing and wearing spandex that leaves little to the imagination. Then, you guessed it, they rush off.

Finally, the piece de resistance, "Waterloo". Arguably ABBA's most famous song, certainly their first big hit. By now the audience A: is on their feet applauding and singing along; B: is sitting passively enjoying the end (if it ever comes); or C: has begun the process of insulin injections to counteract the effects of the saccharine overload. In any event, when "Waterloo" begins, Spandex is the word of the day.

Finally, FINALLY, the show is over, the bows are done and someone (the audience, the actors, the crew, the dressers, the custodian, the box office worker!) can go home. Then we start it all over again the next show.

So if you were under the assumption that when you go to the theater and see the performers bowing that it all just "happens", think again. It is very well thought out and usually very well choreographed. And in the case of MM!, it is very well accompanied, getting the most out of ABBA's best.

Following this part of rehearsal, we got down to the nitty-gritty of really working and re-working a few of the scenes. First was the "Take A Chance" scene between Rosie and me, clarifying a lot of moments that were "muddy " and making strong choices about where we were going, both physically and emotionally. It's at this point in rehearsal when things can get a little bogged down and technical, but you have to go through this to reach the other side.

The same held true for the "Name Of The Game" rehearsal which came next. Again, technical and not very glamorous, but we really began to solidify some choices which, up until now, were simply "meanderings" and "possibilities" ("We could do this? Or we could do this?") Today we said "We WILL do this." Once the structure or outline is set, it's much easier to explore the perimeters.

Thursday was strangely a day off for me, but Friday we begin anew, this time on the stage of the Winter Garden Theater for the first time! Broadway, here we come!

"Indi"-pendence

2009-09-09T00:01:00.008-04:00

There are some days, today being one of them, when I really have no idea where to start or what to say. I suppose when that happens I should take the hint from my conscience and just leave it. But I think there's value in starting "no where" and seeing where it takes me.

Today's work was short, but informative. We touched on the only scene left in the show that hadn't been rehearsed, partly because, up until last week, we didn't have our "Tanya". But we made up for lost time in that department as she spent most of the day in rehearsal. My time with her was short, however, because she and I rarely share the stage together. We have one small scene when, after returning from a "fishing trip", my "Rosie" and I encounter her on the beach for a quick and awkward verbal exchange. Then we're gone. The scene itself is merely an introduction to the much bigger song "Does Your Mother Know", so we did our part and skedaddled. Because the scene, in the larger scheme of things, takes place on a busy stage (lots of people and props moving around and lots of different events vying for the audience's attention), it's hard to do much more in rehearsal than lay down the basics upon which, once we're in the theater, we can build.

At this point things got a bit interesting. I had yet another costume fitting, again with Angie our Assistant Costume Designer. Only this time, rather than heading down to Matera's costume shop, she brought the clothes to the rehearsal space. We tried on some simple khaki-colored cargo pants and a pocketed, khaki-colored, long-sleeve cotton shirt, fitting for the character as he's been written originally and played thus far in the run. But this is where the questioning began. Simply put, until now the character of Bill has been Australian, complete with Akubra, the real name for the Australian bush hat. And with the multi-pocketed cargo pants, the pocketed shirt, the second pair of pants (though without the cargo pockets), the khaki, cargo-pocketed shorts - the theme to me seemed overwhelmingly Australian. The problem is we're trying to change the character from being Australian to being American. It's becoming more and more clear to me that you can't simply "drop" the accent and make the character American. I'm thinking that he really needs to have his own "look". There have already been line changes in the script to reflect this difference, too. Where Bill was once referred to as "Dundee" (as in Crocodile), he's now called "Indiana" (as in Jones). Where he once replied to the query of his origin as "Australian", he now replies, "I'm from the US." So if the change in the character has been made in the words he says and the things that are said about him, it becomes increasingly difficult to think that the clothes he wears would be the same as an Australians. He would be an American wearing American clothes. Cowboy boots, perhaps, and blue jeans. And of course some sort of Indian Jones Fedora hat. If they have established the original "Bill" as the iconic Australian, it seems only fair that the American "Bill" be afforded the same distinction. Obviously more than just my opinion comes into play here. There is the consideration of the costume designer, first and foremost, and what he is trying to establish. There is also the "palette" of the show, the blending of the costumes and sets and lights and how they all look together. Much has to be taken into account before changes can be made, but in the end the strength of the show lies in the strength of it's characters.

This idea of "costume as character" really hit home when, after the fitting with Angie at the rehearsal space, I walked the 15 blocks north to the Winter Garden Theater and met Ron, the Wardrobe Supervisor on the show, for a shoe fitting. At first I was presented three different sandal options for the end of the first act, when the trio of songs "Gimme, Gimme, Gimme", "Name Of The Game", and "Voulez Vous" are sung. This is the bulk of my dancing so I want to make sure that the sandals I wear are not only appropriate looking but comfortable enough to wear 8 times a week. (I joked a couple of times today with my fellow "older actors" that when we were all in our 20's we threw ourselves around the stage with abandon, caring not for the consequences. Now all we think about is, "Can I really do that 8 times a week?) We settled not on the traditional Birkenstocks that other actors before me have worn, but on a closed-toe sandal designed for comfort and durability, but still within the style of the show.

Then came the boots for my first entrance, and suddenly my dilemma became palpable. I don't want to be known as a difficult actor, and in reality I'm not, but I am very particular about my footwear. For me, the shoes I wear say a lot about, and really inform, the character I play. These boots were large and clunky and certainly do not fit the image or idea I have of an American "Bill". I was offered two colors, dark (almost chocolate) brown, and a lighter, butterscotch-y brown. I commented that if I wore my pants halfway down my ass with the latter, I'd be a home-boy in the Bronx! I walked around for awhile in both pair. Neither held much appeal. In the end, and after much discussion with Ron about my options, I agreed to the butterscotch pair. But this decision came with the caveat that I would be discussing more the idea of boot alternatives, including Cowboy boots, with Martha our director and Angie and the other powers that be.

This is a difficult position to be in, not only for me but for all involved. If this were a brand new show, for example, the idea of character choices and clothing would be a direct discussion between actor and director and designer. But in this unique situation, where you have a very successful, long running show that is trying to "tweak" the characters and change things up a bit, it's a lot harder to make a change, fearing (justifiably) that you might alter some well-working chemistry and topple the "house of cards" that is the show. But the great thing about this situation, I feel, is that all parties are open to discussion and the possibility that something will change. Therein lies the key to success.

One last thing. (This is a lot from a guy who didn't know what he was gonna say in the beginning!) I never tire of walking into a Broadway theater, and this one is no different. It's very cool! There's a palpable feeling to walking backstage in a long running, successful show. It's exciting. As Ron led me up the 4 flights of stairs to the wardrobe room, we passed by what will be my dressing room. I'll be sharing it with David ("Harry") and it's beautiful! We have a large space with a big coach and, best of all, a beautiful view of Times Square. We look right out on to 50th St. It's breath taking and I can't wait to A:move in and B: show my kids. They're gonna think Dad's job is pretty cool! At least I hope so. And the best part is, the theater is right next door to my daughters favorite restaurant, "Ellen's Stardust Diner", complete with singing waiters!

Now if can just figure out what to do about the Indian Jones hat...

Ache-y Break-y Bones

2009-09-06T22:08:00.007-04:00

When I was in High School we had a football coach named Russ Hepner. Russ was a muscular man who wore his short sleeve shirts very tight to show off his well developed physique, and his short legged shorts pulled very high in the crotch to apparently show off the other well developed parts of his body. Though no one seemed to take notice of the latter, his "costume" provided hours of "behind the back" ridicule, as only teenagers can do.
Russ had favorite sayings - "...that's hell's bell's fellas..." and "...horse feathers..." were among his most frequent. He was a task master on the field and a feared teacher in the classroom. But he was also, and ultimately, a well respected and liked man.

Two of my older brothers, first Pete and then Dave, were star players on Russ' football teams. As a young man I always enjoyed watching my brothers play, often in fullback or halfback positions, which allowed them the opportunity to score touchdowns and carry the moniker of "star" football player.
I never liked football. I liked watching football, but I never liked playing football. When I was in 7th grade I had exactly one experience with organized football and I still have a clear memory of how much I disliked it. The coach was a non-descript tough guy, the kind who probably played high school ball himself but ended up driving a forklift six days a week: midnight shift.
"So listen young fella, on this play, you're gonna hold your ground and when the offensive end comes at you, you're gonna hit him right in the ear hole!
"The ear hole?"
"Yeah, just hard like this", thwack! (You can take the tough guy out of the game, but you can't take the game out of the tough guy.) "Right in the ear hole."
I remember thinking how much that hurt.
"Don't I get to carry the ball? And run for a touchdown?"
"Nah, nah. That's for the backs. Now get out there and hit!
"But..."
"But nothing. Don't worry about it, you're gonna love it. Hit! Hit! HIT!"
Thus began and ended my career with the Grosse Pointe Lions.

But apparently news of my retirement had not reached Russ's ears, for every year in late July or early August, I received the same phone call:
“Hey Pat, Coach Hepner here, listen, I hope you're havin' a good summer. I wanna talk to you about the football program."
"Football?"
"Sure. We start 2-a-day practices next week. Now I hope you're gonna play football like your older brothers, aren't you?"
"Football? Uh, to be honest Mr. Hepner, I don't really like football."
"Don't like it? Why not?"
"Well, I just, it's just... I don't know, I just don't like it." I didn't have the heart, or the guts, to say that I thought it was a bit stupid, that it seemed like a bunch of organized idiots running around the field, hitting each other in the "ear hole" for 60 minutes while they chased a dead pig.
"Aw, now, let me tell you something, Pat. That's just... well, hells bells fellas, that's just horse feathers. Now, your brothers, Pete and Dave, now they were great young football players. And they really benefited from the program. And I gotta tell ya, I think you’d be a great young football player and I think you’d really benefit from the program as well."
Right. Here's the thing. I didn't want to benefit from the program. I didn't like the program. And although I had a lot of friends in the program, I just didn't think it was the right thing for me.

But I digress. My point here is that in High School the "program" was probably a good thing. Young kids, mostly boys, exercised and stayed in shape. They worked out. They lifted weights. They were agile and limber and after a week of "2-a-days" they went home and ate their mothers' out of house and home and never gained weight.
That's great when you're 16. Or 17. Or 18, or 19, or 22 or even 25. But when you're a man (or woman) of a certain (mid to late 40's) age, the body is not meant for that kind of continual physical abuse.

Unless you're in Mamma Mia 8 times a week. At which point, apparently, all bets are off and constant pain is the word of the day!
Again, and I don't want to sound like a wimp here, or redundant, but we spent 8 hours today rehearsing mostly the dance and movement sequences - "Gimme, Gimme, Gimme", Voulez-Vous", the "Wedding and Finale" - and I am so absolutely fricking exhausted it's hilarious! I'm dyin' here! I'm walking around my house like a 90 year old man! Where's the walker? I think I need that stair chair thing that takes you from one flight to the next! And don't even talk to me about my back. Oy vey!

I should have known I was in trouble when I walked into rehearsal and saw John AND David, both of my other fellow Dad's, wearing protective braces on both of their knees, and we hadn't even started. Did they know something I didn't know? Had they gotten a memo that I missed? Apparently. Though I believe their pain was assuaged no less than mine even with the aid of their apparatus. At least I toughed it out without medicaid assistance!

But in the end, as seems to happen after every rehearsal, we laughed and joked and I secretly pinched myself, quietly asking "I'm still getting paid to have this much fun, right?" Somehow, it just doesn't seem right.

I also have to say that it felt, after all that had gone on over the last few days with the wake and funeral and attendant family issues, very good to be able to throw myself right back into work. There was a speaker at the wake who made a point of saying that a big part of who we are, of what defines us, is the work we do. I believe that's true, and I believe, I know, that I'm very lucky to make my living doing my work, doing what I love to do more than anything else in the world. And no value can be placed on that.

In Memoriam

2009-09-05T23:58:00.012-04:00

I just want to take a moment and touch base with you all. I feel a bit odd, taking time away from this show that I have, so far, LOVED doing, for personal reasons. It's like I'm cheating on a lover that I've promised to be faithful to. The creative and management team of MM! have been wonderful and very accommodating and of course the reason for the time off, the death of my Brother in law, is certainly valid and has warranted all my attention. But now, in a complete reversal, I am to return to rehearsal tomorrow feeling a bit like I did around the time of 911, when I went to work thinking "What's the point of all this? Why am I doing this?" I know in my mind that I am loving this experience and I will certainly move forward, as the human spirit does, and prevail. But my heart hurts right now for the loss of our Brad and I try to make sense of it.

I wrote this to a friend tonight and I repeat it here:

And now, I guess, in that strange way that always happens - life goes on. Every one's life has value and, as much as Brad seemed like "just another obligation" in our lives, I know I will miss him and his sweet and gentle presence. God rest his soul.
So...

Like a First Rehearsal - Only NOT.

2009-09-03T23:54:00.002-04:00

Wow! What a day. It was short, as we only did a read through of the show, but amazing! Really - this is gonna be a helluva production!

We started a few minutes late as we were waiting for the cast to fully assemble - minus the ensemble. The first thing I noticed, even though, as I said yesterday, we've been in rehearsal already for a week and a half, was the "first read-thru" feeling in the room. Everyone was giddy and excited to be here and for those new to the room there were a lot of introductions. Once we finally sat and began, we were still missing our Tanya (Judy) as she was running late, so we started without her. She showed up moments later and we were whole. As the first act seemed to flow along, I was taken aback at how quick some of the transitions from scene to scene really are. I was especially shocked to realize that after my first scene on stage, when the Dads enter, I don't come on again till the middle of a song called "Gimme Gimme", where the girls are desperate to dance with the guys. But immediately following this raucous number comes the much more intimate, as I've said before, and touching "Name Of The Game." The quick emotional transition between the two, from happy, giddy writer out for an adventure to shocked and confused (there's that word again) possible father, caught me totally off guard. I was still enjoying the euphoria of the first world when I was suddenly slapped in the face with the reality of the second. And the slap was helped along by the truly intense and focused read of Alyse as "Sophie". She's got such an intelligent quality and a quiet intensity about her that even with her diminutive size she really commands a room. It's remarkable to see and be a part of. We finished what was left of the first act and took a break for the intermission. I introduced myself to those I had yet to meet, including Judy, and grabbed a quick bite to eat. It's amazing the amount of food actors eat, considering we were sitting in chairs for an hour. But that just shows how much work and effort goes into a production, even at the read-thru stage.

If the first act was filled with a nervous energy, the second act became much more refined, a taught string across which these characters had to traverse their emotional lives. And when John and Beth, our "Sam" and "Donna", belted out "S.O.S.", the room was rocking! Boy are they a couple of powerhouses! I just sat there taking this all in, pinching myself, as I have often along the way, thinking, "I get to work with these people 8 times a week. On Broadway!" Cool, huh? But if I thought that was good, I was in for a real treat when Beth rewarded us all with her (very early in the stage) rendition of the true 11 O'clock number, "Winner Takes It All". Holy S--t! Talk about "rocking the house", about "quiet intensity", about "keepin' it real" - she was phenomenal! This woman has such power and depth behind her voice, it's remarkable. Even she couldn't take it sitting down, forcing her, as the song did, to get to her feet and sing this ode to loneliness, to self-acceptance, to retribution and revenge with a grace and hunger that explores an interpretation never before seen. John sat there, his "Sam" dutifully taking what was due him. This is gonna be a fascinating and exciting scene.

For my own part, it was like going backward in time, and frustrating too, to be sitting there reading "Take A Chance" after having really fleshed out the characters and the scene only days before. I was ready to get up and move, as was Allison, my "Rosie", but we played the scene with all the intentions intact, only from a seated position.

When we finally finished the read, a rousing applause arose from the room, not only from the cast and creative team assembled, but company and stage management as well. It seemed the success we had hoped it might be was coming to pass. As we arose from our seats, I did have to spend some time walking around, checking in with my fellow actors and stage managers and even Martha and Janet, our director and Dance Captain, discussing the reading. The thing that really stuck out to me, and I expressed it many times in the coming moments to all assembled, was how "real" it seemed. It was grounded and whole. It didn't feel "put on" as so often musicals can. But I attributed that purely to the performers themselves. John and Beth and Alyse and Eric, our new "Sky", these are all actors of the highest caliber and their work shows. These are people who work under the same ethic as I do - the reality comes first. Playing a scene for a joke or a "bit" or a laugh is only effective for a short time, then it loses it's luster and becomes old soon. But when something is real and grounded and comes from the gut - that's something an audience can hold onto and "take home with them". It's a real connection and an audience can feel it. I was sitting in the room with these great people and I felt it! I can't wait to continue that journey.

On a personal note (although what in a blog isn't personal), I won't be writing for a few days. I have no rehearsal tomorrow or Saturday due to the funeral arrangements for my dear brother-in-law Brad who passed away last Saturday. Please remember him in your prayers. He was a sweet and gentle man and will be missed by many. He's in God's hands now.

Change In The Air

2009-09-02T23:59:00.000-04:00

There was such a change in the air and a boost of energy added today with the arrival of my buddy, and our new "Sam", John Dossett. John and I are old friends, having performed in the Broadway cast of "The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer" many years ago, so we had a history. And if there's anything in this business that means anything, it's the histories that we share together. Our team is nearly complete now, with only the addition tomorrow of our Tanya, who is the only remaining principal from the Broadway company, Judy McLane. We will finally have our first "read through" of the show, although we've been rehearsing now for nearly a week and a half. That's how showbiz goes.

But what a treat it was to have John join us today and to be working, for the first time, with the full compliment of "Dad's". And a treat it was - from our first moment in the room there was nothing but joking and jockeying for position, all in the name of good fun. Poor Alyse, our "Sophie", didn't know what hit her, as this influx of testosterone simply took over the room. As opposed to the past few days, where we would discuss a scene first and then read through it, we decided today to do just the opposite and we dove right in. From the very first read it was clear that this was going to be, although I have nothing to compare it to but the image in my mind of what it should sound like, a very different scene. There was tension and fun and most of all bite. Yes, there was a bite to the scene which I had no idea existed. It was fresh and invigorating and it felt like three guys, new to the island, vying for position, vying for attention, vying for top dog position. That's what it was - a pissing contest of three dogs saying, "I was here first and this is my territory." And it was a blast. We laughed and joked a lot, mostly about the nature of these three men and why each was here. I, of course with my new found discovery of Bill's motives, continued in my belief that Bill basically came to the Island for a good time and an adventure and ends up utterly confused at every turn. But in this, the first scene, he's yet to encounter that confusion, so for him, it's a time to discover his surroundings and meet, for the first time, this young girl. Little does he know what's in store for him, but his first curve ball is the discovery that Donna, his old fling and Sophie's mom, didn't invite him here at all, as he was lead to believe. It was Sophie who invited the three men and it was her secret to keep. But before that secret can be tested, there's a lovely song (Thank You For The Music) that's testament to the power of a melody and how it may have affected each of their lives. Each of us, including Sophie, lends our voice to the song and it's a great introduction to the charm that awaits.

It's not long before that charm, and Sophie's secret, are tested as Donna makes her first entrance and discovers the men, the three possible fathers of her baby. And this is where rehearsal got really interesting. Our new Donna is the Tony Award winning Beth Leavel and when I say she is funny, I can't begin to describe funny. She has quirks and ticks and laughs and voices and impulses that come out of her at such a rate it's hard to keep up - but it's damn fun to try! She is hilarious and was no less so today. It was hard to keep a straight face, even for a first read thru of this scene, between Beth and John and David and myself, especially when the three men seemed so confused that we jokingly referred to the new headlines - "Never before in the history of Broadway have three actors so quickly closed a successful, long running Broadway show. Their lack of performance surely goes down in history and one of the strongest showings of inability to act ever seen on a Broadway stage" - and so forth. We wandered aimlessly, myself in the fore, desperately trying to make connections with each other and sense of the scene. In the end, as with any other "first go'round" of a scene, it went quite well and we all learned a lot. The next time we approach this scene we will certainly have a better understanding of what each of us means to each other and to Donna. And in the end, that's really the crux of this story. We laid it to rest, confident in the knowledge that with a bevy of talented actors, a scene like this will find it's own rhythm and it's own life and we needn't worry. I only hope now that between the four of us, and the rest of the cast, we don't have too much fun and forget the story we're here to tell. It's been known to happen...

In the meantime, tomorrow, as I've said, brings our first real read thru. This process seems so backwards, I know, but sometimes, because of actors schedules and all of the people it takes to collaborate on a successful project like this, things get put together in such a mumbo jumbo way it seems as if it's never gonna happen. But surprisingly, and amazingly, it does. And I have no less confidence in this project.

Twists and Turns

2009-09-01T23:33:00.002-04:00

After an abbreviated morning run (I'm a working actor, after all, I don't have time to spend all day just exercising!), I got to rehearsal a few minutes early to go over the days material. I knew that the "Bill - Sophie" scene was on the docket, and I always like to look look over a scene before I go into rehearsal (I know that should be a no brainer, but you'd be surprised).
I walked in the door and it was everything I had hoped and feared it would be. We spent the first hour just discussing, again, the nature of the relationship between Bill and Sophie - how he knows her, what he knows about her, her past, her mothers past, and whether or not, ultimately, he is or might be her father. Wanna know my personal opinion? I think he's the actual father. Shy of a paternity test, the evidence points most favorably, or in his case, a bit shockingly unfavorably, in his direction. But it was some wonderful investigation and opened even more the mysteries of the script. (I can't believe I'm using those two phrases in the same sentence - Mamma Mia and "mysteries of the script", but when you get down to it, it's true. The play is really a mystery of, as we like to joke, "Who's your Daddy?")

When we finally read through it the first time, with sweet Alyse and I just sitting there, looking at each other and reading through the scene simply, unencumbered with any direction or props or sets or anything more than a basic understanding of what the scene is about, it was everything I could do not to fall apart! She started singing this song (Name Of The Game) of yearning, of hope, of desperation, looking to me for the answers, demanding to know them, and, since the song provides only so many lyrics and most of them belong to her, I could do nothing but reply non verbally, which is not easy to do. I wanted to help her. I wanted to give her the answer she so longed to hear, but I could only communicate through silence, which might actually say more than words. It was simple and beautiful and intimate, and in the end we decided that the actual playing of the scene, once we get to a stage with lights and sets and props, will probably play very similar to this. That is as an intimate, simple, beautiful scene about possible father and yearning daughter struggling to connect. We left it there for the day, knowing the next time we visit the scene, there will be more knowledge to bring to the table.

Next up was Allison and I - more Rosie and Bill work, and we had another blast. We continued with the pre-wedding scene and I discovered, in a great way, that Bill comes to this Island with a fairly banal idea of what's to come. He's merely a writer and an interested "third party", though, having had a "biblical" relationship with the leading lady Donna many years ago, he's not completely without interest. But what happens to him throughout his stay here leaves him in a constant state of befuddlement and confusion. He seems to enter each scene with a certain knowledge about something, only to have that knowledge, what he thinks he knows, turned upside down, leaving him in a constant state of confusion. Knowing that, and discovering that, was like a small light bulb going off for me. As an actor I find the constant battle of trying to stay "on course" or sticking to my "objective, as they say, and battling the things or obstacles that get in my way, to be the most fun. Fighting the adversity, looking for a different tack, walking around in a perpetual state of confusion, though it's tricky to play, can be the most fun. And it's a fine line playing it, cause if you're not careful you can fall into either A: a very muddled performance that confuses not only you, the actor, but the audience as well, or B: it just comes off as comical and two dimensional. The one thing I like to pride myself on as an actor is "keeping it real". I try and keep the character, no matter how crazy the situation may be, grounded and real. It's what often makes, I feel, for better theater. We ended this session, literally, on the floor in what may be the most physically demanding part of the show - for Allison and I.

And speaking of physical - OMG!, as my teenage daughter would say. Men and women over 40 were never meant to move this way! I'm dying over here! I am absolutely exhausted (of course, it doesn't help that I ran 5 miles before rehearsal) because the rest of the day - nearly 4 hours of it - were spent learning the dance to "Voulez-Vous"! I understand that the best way to learn the dance, especially considering we were missing actors and dancers and we're piecing it together, is to do it in sections, but this made it all the more confusing. (See, more confusion, what did I tell you!) So we start the movement a third of the way through the song and (God Bless the patience and understanding of our dance captain Janet and her assistants Ryan and Tony) I was completely lost. I put on a good face and made it look like I knew what I was doing, but that was all a front. (As I said in a past post, I revoked my "Dancers Union of America" card long ago) Twists and turns and stomp steps and arms flailing and more twists and turns on gyrations and counting. Counting, counting, COUNTING! I can't be expected to sing (Oh yeah, did I mention, we SING while we're counting and dancing!) - I can't be expected to sing AND dance AND count AND act! For God's sake, I'm only one man! And let me tell you, it was painful! I can run 5-8 miles in a day, no problem, but ask me to dance for 10 minutes - I'm a frickin basket case! And I wasn't alone. I won't name names (Beth, Allison, David, basically any of us over 40) but there were others who struggled as well. Twisting and turning - all I can say is anyone out there over 40, or even near 40 (or under 40 but can appreciate 40!) who comes to see the show better get on your feet and give us a damn standing ovation at the end of this number! Did I mention the twisting? And the Turning? And the jumping? I know I sound like an old man, but I left that rehearsal aching in places I didn't know I could ache. I walked down my street after and saw my friends Manny and Elsie who asked how I was doing.
(Nearly out of breathe) "...Exhausted from dancing..."
Loving and kind neighbors that I have, that laughed in my face so loud I could hardly react. they seemed to think my pain and anguish was merely provided for their enjoyment. (I have to say, it was pretty funny.)

In spite of all the hard work, did I fail to mention how much fun it was!? I don't want to leave you with the impression that I don't enjoy this, because I do, deeply. At the end of the day, I wouldn't give it up for anything - except, maybe, some vicodin.

Tomorrow my friend John arrives and our cast is nearly complete. I'm looking forward to that. And I don't think I have to dance, but, like a boy scout, I'm always prepared...

End Of Week One

2009-08-31T01:00:00.003-04:00

As the title suggests, we are at the end of the first week. Lots has happened, with lots to come. The exciting thing so far is this incredible energy put forth by everybody in the room. Today was spent almost entirely on review of what we'd done so far this week, much of it dancing and singing the finale or what leads up to it. There's something magical and more than a bit contagious in the music that gives me the energy to keep going. I know I've touched on this already, but it bears repeating again and again. Or at least it bears the discussion again and again, because I often feel that I'm just repeating the same thought, or re-circulating around the same idea.

The finale consists of the reprised version of two songs and the introduction of a third song, all of which are familiar to the audience, whether you've seen the show or not. The first song is the title song, MAMMA MIA. Sung with such energy and verve by these young, nubile men and women it's impossible not to be filled with a certain joy just watching them. Then they move into a reprise of DANCING QUEEN, and let's be honest (without trying to sound ironic here), who wouldn't be filled with joy watching this song? And finally, the secret weapon - the final song. I'm not gonna say what it is, cause I don't want to spoil the fun for those who haven't seen it yet. And if you've seen the movie, forget it, you still know nothing. But the end of the show is fantastic! Not only an homage to ABBA (of course) but one of the funniest reveals you might ever see on a Broadway stage. And as I was about to enter the scene in our final moments of rehearsal for the finale today, I thought to myself - "And I get paid to do this?" I mean honestly, to quote the late, great Jerry Orbach, "We must get paid for the waiting around (or in our case, the auditioning and waiting to get the next job), for surely we would do the acting for free!" Oh My God, how true that is. It was simply a blast. It's why we do what we do, I know, but it's so much more than that. It's also, and I suppose some of this comes with an awareness of age in the business, the joy that you know it gives an audience.

The discussion came up more than a few times this first week about the fact that when MM! opened in New York it was October 2001, only a month after 9-11. People were still reeling from the events of that day. I was in the second day of rehearsal for the Broadway production of HEDDA GABLER starring Kate Burton when the planes struck, and when we opened only a few weeks later, I thought (as dark as the play was) "Who's gonna want to see a show about a woman who shoots herself in the head? There's a real upper!" But then I thought, "Well if I thought that was bad, who in their right mind would want to go see a light and frothy "...giant singing Hostess cupcake..." of a musical?", as Ben Brantley of the New York Times called it. (It's true, I remember that review!) Apparently a LOT of people did. It was the salve for people's wounds. It was the calm for peoples storms. It was a wave of release and a chance, if only for a few hours, to forget the outside world and get lost in remembering a past that might actually have never existed. (Okay, that last bit? I'm sort of paraphrasing the Times there, but it's a great image and appropriate to the story.)

So of course over the years, and through the many friends I've had who've been in the show, I had heard about how much fun it was, and indeed I experienced it first hand on the night that I saw the show. But I can only imagine what joy that kind of a connection is with an audience 8 times a week. Even today, with the memory of 911 growing more and more distant, I none-the-less look forward to that experience and that connection more than I can say.

Our final 2 hours of rehearsal were spent on the intricate and lengthy scene between Bill and Rosie in the second act, when they finally come to a "meeting of the minds". Again, to avoid any spoilers for those who haven't seen it, I won't give away too much. But for those who have, we'll call it "the chase in the church". You know what I mean. The best part about this rehearsal was, again, this feeling of excitement and acceptance in the room and the idea that anything is game, anything is new and refreshing, nothing we try is "wrong" or "inappropriate." It's not just this scene but the whole show that is being re-done and the constant reminder of that goal makes this gig so cool and exciting! Anything goes and so we, my Rosie and I, tried it all. We were falling all over each other and the floor, literally, trying to find (always) the truth in this situation, in this scene between these two very real people who discover, through the course of the scene and the song, how desperate they are for each other - sexually, emotionally, spiritually. It's an amazing joy to work with Allison, my "Rosie" who's willing to try just about anything, and Martha and Janet, our director and dance captain, who are there to support it. We're still not all the way through the scene, but we found a great path to follow, so the rest should fall into place easily. And for the sake of my son and daughter, just so no one's shocked when they see it, "Yes, Daddy does kiss another woman." But it's okay, it's just work. ;)

The coming day off is much welcome, but I have to admit I'm a bit timid and nervous about the following days rehearsal. Tuesday I start the scene between Bill and Sophie where he first discovers that he's her father, or so he thinks. They sing the duet "Name Of The Game", and Alyse, our new Sophie, has such a haunting and yearn in her voice, I fear (in a good way) what that might do to me or bring out in me. Part of the job description, I know, but that doesn't mean I'm not aware of it or fearful/excited to see what comes up.

Yet another example of why I do what I do, I guess...

Sad Heart

2009-08-30T01:16:00.001-04:00

I have a sad heart today as my dear, sweet brother in law Brad passed away after a short but valiant fight with pancreatic and liver cancer. He was diagnosed only a month ago and it was so late in the game that he barely had a fighting chance. He was a very young 59 years old and will be remembered as such a "nice guy" and a gentle soul. The world is diminished today without his good natured spirit to inspire us. May God bless him and may his loving and gentle soul finally rest in peace.

It's hard to really talk much about the days events. We spent a good part of rehearsal discussing the change in the character of Bill from an Australian, which is the way he's always been played, to an American of unknown origin. The idea of a renegade, boisterous, somewhat cocky, certainly self-assured character keeps popping up. We keep coming back to the idea that he's the American version of Crocodile Dundee, a cross between Indiana Jones and maybe Jack Colton (Michael Douglas' character from "Romancing the Stone".) Cowboy boots came into the discussion as a way of possibly grounding him, giving him an immediate "gravitas", as cowboy boots can do. But nothing is definite. And like all works of art and collaboration, it's a work in progress.

The second part of the day was spent with Janet and Andy, our dance supervisor and her assistant. We learned the movement, for it's really not "choreography", for two new numbers. "Under Attack" opens the second act and presents as a nightmare that Sophie lives through regarding her upcoming marriage. It's a very sultry and sexual number, at least for the Dad's. "I Do" is the joyous celebration at the end of the show and the only real choreography for me, so far. It's straightforward and quite easy, which is good, since I gave up my "Dancers Union of America" card years ago.

I will say there's something strange and a bit intangible about the experience to this point. I know that we're creating a "new version" of MM!, but I still (and this is my insecurity creeping in) feel like I'm trying to fit into a show that exists. Like I'm still "auditioning for the job" and somewhere in the back of my head trying to compare myself to others who have played the role before me. Am I like them, I wonder? Am I different? And the killer of all - am I better? That's a question that has to be left alone or it can fester away, destroying the very fabric of creativity. But I'd be lying to you and myself if I didn't acknowledge it's existence in the back of my mind. It's there.

Tomorrow will be the end of our first week. We're already at that point where I'm panicking, knowing we have plenty of time still to rehearse and yet wondering "How are we gonna get it all in?" and "God I hope I don't look like an idiot out there!"

Such is showbiz.

Surviving Spandex

2009-08-29T00:30:00.002-04:00

Today's rehearsal was a bit longer than yesterday, mostly music. Our fabulously talented music director Wendy and I did a short review session, then I started singing with some of the other people in the show. It started with our new "Rosie" (Allison). She walked in the door, we greeted each other with a little small talk ("How are you?...it was great to meet your kids yesterday...they're so adorable..."), then we got down to work. The song we sing together, "Take A Chance On Me", is a duet, but she has the lions share of the material, so we reviewed my small parts first (which come late in the song), then we started at the top. Suddenly she opened her mouth to sing and I knew I was gonna have to raise the bar on my game - a lot. When I say this woman has pipes, I mean PIPES. She sounded terrific and she blew the roof off the place. She belted out the song with such confidence and power, I was amazed - and thrilled. I really felt like "Wow, I'm in good hands with this actress. She knows what she's doing and how to do it." We had a great session and a great connection and we sounded very good together, our voices blending well.

Next was my "daughter Sophie", played by Alyse. Again, she has the lions share of the duet we sing together, "The Name Of The Game", but I was a willing and involved participant. And again when this young girl (I call her a girl but she's really a young woman in her 20's) opened her mouth I was stunned. Maybe I'm just easily stunned, but she was terrific. So much so that she started the song, singing directly to me, using lyrics like "...tell me please, cause I have to know, I'm a curious child, beginning to grow..." with a desperation and a longing in her eyes, and a voice that had such control and yearning that my own eyes began to well up. There's something about the clarity of the voice and connection between two people - as Rilke says in his LETTERS TO A YOUNG POET, "...things aren't all so tangible and sayable as people usually have us believe; most experiences are unsayable, they happen in a space that no word has ever entered... those mysterious existences, whose life endures beside our own small, transitory life." In that moment, in that rehearsal, I wanted to help my "daughter" figure out who her father was. And if I'm it. And that, my friends, is how the seed is sown. The first connection of how a relationship onstage begins, in a rehearsal room, singing a song directly to each other, just saying the words on pitch. Simple, clean - amazing.

The final rehearsal was a trio - it should be a quad but we're still missing our "Sam" (my friend John Dosset) who's out in San Diego - so it was just Alyse ("Sophie"), David ("Harry") and me singing "Thank You For The Music". This is a great song which comes early in the show about connecting to each other and old times. It's sung with ease and we had a great time with it. Again, our voices blend well together and it's easy to see that the ride is going to be a pleasant one.

And now what you've all been waiting for...

The final part of the day, which was not a rehearsal at all, but another costume fitting. Again, a subway ride down to Barbara Matera's. Again the wrought iron elevator ride to the 5Th floor. Again, Angie greeting me at the door.
"Hi, come on in. Did you wear tighty-whities by any chance?" (Referring, of course, to my choice of underwear and wasting no time in getting down to business.)
"No, I'm a boxer-briefs kinda guy."
"No worries. You'll be wearing a dance belt during the show anyway (which is basically a jockstrap without the cup), but for today the boxer-briefs will do. So if you can just slip into this and pull it up to your waist, don't worry about zipping it up. We'll do that in a minute."
All I can say is thank God I've lost 40 pounds in the last few months! (Special shout out of thanks to my friend Jack Cummings for that. He knows why!) This was one of the tightest pieces of fabric I've ever had the pleasure of sliding over my body. I began at the feet and slid up, first one leg then the other, cinching and tugging as I went. Once I got it past my waist (I just couldn't stop, it felt so good), it was over the shoulder with one side, then the other. At first I wondered about the lack of fabric in the middle, across the chest. Are they missing some? Did they not measure correctly? Oh, wait, no. This is Mamma Mia. Disco, Abba, the 70's - they're not missing a thing! The tailor then came into the room and spent the next 45 minutes cinching and pulling the already tight fabric even TIGHTER, with our assistant costume designer Scott looking on with approval and disapproval as every inch of my thigh and midsection and chest was scrutinized.
"This could be tighter here... it's pulling a bit there... can this be pulled in here?"
Oh but we're not done. Now that my body from the shoulders to the knees was hermetically sealed in spandex, we still had the legs to deal with.
"Here come the 4" platform shoes. Now don't worry, these might be a little tight, but they're just for fitting purposes. The real ones will be at the theater when you get there."
Oh good - I wouldn't want to be stuck with the bad ones. I mean really, what will people say?

I'll tell you this much, Freddie Mercury would've been proud. I took it like a man as I stood there for another 20 minutes, pained by the platform shoes that were a size too small, and had the hem on the bottom of the pants fit to size. And finally, there I was, in all my glory. Red spandex and sparkling codpiece and silver platform shoes. I sent a text with a picture to my wife and the following message,
"Need I say more?"

I love my job!

Business and Pleasure

2009-08-27T23:00:00.002-04:00

Summer's not quite over, and since we're missing a few key cast members (our "Sam" is still in San Diego and our "Tanya" is still on Broadway), this is a fairly light week for rehearsal. So when I was told that I only had a 1 1/2 hour rehearsal today, I figured I could combine my time at work with some late summer play time with my kids. I took them on an adventure they've longed for but I've neglected for some time: the top of the Empire State Building! My kids have been "jones-ing" to see it for a while now, and I haven't been there for years, so we took advantage of a late summer day and went to the top. It was beautiful, to say the least. But the last time I went, I felt like I just walked in, paid for a ticket, and rode the elevator to the top. Now it's like going to Disney! You wait behind stanchion ropes in this line, then you wait behind more stanchion ropes in that line, then you take everything off (practically) as if you're going through airport security, then you wait in some more lines behind some more stanchion ropes. It took nearly 45 minutes from the minute we walked in the door on 5Th Ave to walk out onto the rooftop deck. But on a gorgeous day like today, it was worth it. And hey, I got to spend some quality time with my kids, so I can't beat that. 4 postcards (for my daughter) and 1 Empire State Lego Building project (for my son) totalling nearly $40 later, we were outta there and on our way to MM! We stopped off for a quick slice - my kids get hungry so it was more like 2 slices each - and we buckled down into my mid-afternoon rehearsal.

Over the years, and with the help of my wife who really knows how to care for kids, I've learned the trick of diversion and distraction. If left to my own devices, I would've merely told my kids to sit down and wait for me. For an hour and a half? Never gonna happen. But I've learned - gotta keep 'em busy. So I was like Santa on Christmas morning when we arrived at the studio. (It also helped that our babysitter Sarah met us in the lobby to hang with them.) I opened my bag and there were treats and drinks and handheld video games and the piece de resistance - a portable DVD player and 2 movies to choose from: Bedtime Stories with Adam Sandler and the Tim Burton directed Coraline. They opted for Bedtime Stories and were on their way.

In the meantime, I ducked into my rehearsal and spend a wonderful nearly 2 hours with my director Martha and my "Rosie" Allison mulling over more script and story and trying to decipher which character knew which when. If that sounds confusing, that's the point. The wonderful thing about MM!, for those who've yet to see it, is (beyond the obvious ABBA music) the mystery that lay within the story - a young girl getting married, not knowing who her father really is. Regardless of your feelings about a grown woman who would put herself in that kind of a position (getting pregnant at the age of twenty-something having been promiscuous with many men and not knowing the father of her child), I think MM is a very refreshing story about their search. The mother's search for her true love and the father of her grown child, the daughters search for her father and her destiny and, coincidentally, each of the other's characters search for themselves. In the case of my character Bill, it's almost a search to find some stability after a lifetime of living out of a back pack and being the adventurer. Or is he? Perhaps he talks the big talk but in the end has always been a bit of a homebody, almost trying to live up to an expectation that was inadvertently placed on him by others. Or, even more difficult, by himself. Fascinating and rich material.

Anyway, I'm getting a bit carried away with the intricacies of the role and the possibilities, but these are the kinds of discussions we are having right now in rehearsal and I find them fascinating. In fact I find theater, and acting in particular, to be not only about the show, but more importantly, about the human condition and the human psyche. I always felt that if there was no such thing as acting and no career path to follow I would have ended up being a psychiatrist. I love delving into the personal motivation behind why people do what they do. This is going to sound a bit controversial, I know, but I was asked at a dinner party many years ago (as if I go to a lot of dinner parties!) if I could meet anyone living or dead (the old "living or dead" game), who would it be? While others mentioned names like "Jesus" or "Gandhi", my first thought was "Hitler". I mean why not? Who wouldn't want to know what went through the mind of a guy like that! I wouldn't want to be his friend, and I sure wouldn't want to be his enemy, but I would be very interested to know what was going on in his psyche, to understand what drove him to be the man he was.
Bet you didn't count on that kind of a post from a blog on Mamma Mia, huh? Well neither did I, to be honest. I just write what comes to mind.

In any event, the more time we spend delving into the story and the relationships (and the inevitable and idle theater chatter that goes with any rehearsal - "I remember when I played the ringmaster in the Ringling Circus..." true story, but we'll get to that in another post), the more enjoyable this process becomes.

Tomorrow, more singing, more dancing and another costume fitting. I've got one word - and I fear to say it - SPANDEX.

Dancin' & Singin' to Swedish Pop Songs

2009-08-27T00:45:00.000-04:00

Singin' and dancin' - that's what it's all about.

Today started with another music rehearsal, this time going through every song, or part of a song, that I sing. I actually don't sing any major solos, but I sing an awful lot of "bits" in smaller songs. The real fun of it is the music itself. It's infectious. I know that we all know ABBA music and we may have our varying opinions about it, but when you listen to it, and especially when you start singing it, it really is hard not to just feel good. It's infectious. Oh, I just said that. Well, for lack of a better word, it is infectious. (By the way, I never promised deeply insightful blogs on EVERY outing, did I?)

So first I sang - Thank You For The Music, Mamma Mia, Voulez Vous, Waterloo - then, I danced.

We learned the finale today, and I gotta tell you, trying to put dance steps together with music and lyrics - it ain't easy! It's the old "rub the tummy and pat the head at the same time" trick. First of all I'm still trying to remember lyrics to the songs, but when you add in the idea of having to do specific movements with specific lyrics (that you don't even know yet!) timed to a specific point in the music, it becomes very confusing. I'll admit, I'm a pretty good athlete and I'm fairly well coordinated, but dancing is like speaking Swahili to me. It's a whole different language. I admire and applaud the real dancers (not only because they have "smoking hot bodies" (the men and the women!)), but because what they do requires a discipline and a focus far beyond what most people are capable of. It's remarkable!

So I just struggle through, trying not to look too foolish, and hoping, like the kid at the back of the class, that no one will notice when I constantly screw up! But in all honesty, it's a blast to do and I think, for the first day, I did okay.

Thank God I took notes, now I just have to study them...

That First Step Is A Doozy

2009-08-25T23:49:00.003-04:00

I don't want to sound cliche, but my head is spinning right now. Day one and the information feels overwhelming! Not so much rehearsal, which was fine, but the paperwork: unbelievable!

Let me elaborate: to begin with, rehearsal was great. We started with the meet and greet (it seems like a terrific group of people) and then there was a long discussion about the history of the show. Also, a lot was said about the unique challenges of replacing a character in a long running production. But what makes this unique is that, unlike the "cookie cutter" replacements, where an actor simply does the same thing at the same time in the same place as his or her predecessor, we are being asked - encouraged, actually - to think outside that box and create the role anew. To find new answers to the questions that this script and this story holds. This is not only refreshing, it's invigorating! It's great, once again, to be thought of and respected as an individual and have your unique talents and gifts appreciated and encouraged. Yes, this is gonna be fun!

After this discussion, we had three hours of music rehearsal where we worked on four of the group numbers from the show, including "Waterloo" and "Voulez Vous". There's an awful lot of falsetto singing, so my upper register is gonna get a helluva nice workout.

Following a short lunch, David (the actor playing Harry) and myself spent an hour doing "table work" with our director Martha, discussing in depth the nature of the relationships between the "fathers" in the show and the daughter, Sophie. Good scripts, like the one for Mamma Mia, provide clues about the nature of relationships, but at the same time leave "space" to interpret these relationships and discover their meaning. And as they (the Mamma Mia production team over the years) have discovered (and we will discover anew), with each cast change comes an entirely fresh interpretation of the story. Thereby keeping it updated and fresh for each new audience that sees it. The goal is to tell this joyful story as best we can and share it, as a gift, anew with the audience. Our gift to them. A wonderful thought.

So the overwhelming part of the process so far is not the rehearsal, which is delightful, but the paperwork, which is abundant. Pages of W-2's and I-9's and 401K's and Direct Deposits and Emergency contacts and sexual harassment agreement's (15 pages of sexual harassment agreements - not to agree to sexually harass, but to understand and agree not to sexually harass) and contracts. Contracts, contracts, contracts. You don't just sign one, but you sign the same one over and over and over. One for you, one for the producer, one for Actors Equity, one for your agent, one for... Everybody gets a piece of the pie, so everybody gets a copy of the contract. No tree saving here. But it's certainly necessary.

And that's it for day one. Tomorrow, more singing and we begin dancing. Now THAT'S gonna be interesting...

Less Than 24

2009-08-24T23:42:00.000-04:00

Less than 24 hours now before rehearsals begin and I seem to spend more time writing about the experience than experiencing the experience. But that's about to change and I can't wait.
I got an email from my Stage Manager Andy over the weekend confirming our first rehearsal date and time and location and the availability of our scripts at the Winter Garden Theater. I was planning to try and pick up the script this afternoon at the theater, but when I finally spoke with Andy, I was informed that scripts had already been delivered to the rehearsal space. I guess I won't see it until tomorrow.
In the meantime, I did take advantage of my last morning as a "free man" - another one of those delusional anecdotes, otherwise known as "unemployed actor" - and played hockey. I play ice hockey a couple times a week and I must say, it is beyond therapeutic. It is cathartic. It is one of the most enjoyable moments of my week!
I play "Open Hockey" which means anyone with skates and a stick can join us, but it's usually the same group of 10-12 guys - Doug, our GM (general manager, because he tries to loosely organise the session), Scotty, our seasoned pro, Nick, Terry, Joe, Brian, Stan - your basic group of hockey crazed, middle aged men. And everyone's got a nickname - "Gigantor", "The Snow Ape", "The Ice Manatee", "Fuzzball", "Johnny Cakes". I'm lucky enough to have two nicknames - "Minut", after Minut Bol, the famous basketball player from the 1980's, and "The OC", short for "The Orange Cone". One day I was playing particularly slow and Scotty was critiquing my performance, saying that he was "skating around me like an orange cone on the ice." The name stuck.
I played hockey as a youth, until I was about 12 years old, but then I stopped, using the excuse that I had "bad knees". I hadn't played for nearly 30 years, taking it up again at the age of 40. My wife encouraged me. I think she regrets that encouragement now.
I love hockey because, like acting, it is an escape. An escape from the real world, an escape from life. But I've also discovered that it's a form of male camaraderie that I don't find anywhere else. It's a competitive camaraderie with a language all it's own. We curse at each other. We yell at each other. We use language that would make a truck driver blush and a nun run for the cloisters. But, and if any of them read this they're gonna call me more names than I can imagine, we love each other too, in a strange way. We support each other. We encourage each other. We respect each other. We don't really know much about each other, aside from the time we spend together on the ice, but these are friendships and times together that I cherish deeply and hope never end. My wife once suggested we have a "party" and invite my hockey buddies over, so she could meet some of the guys like "Studley" and "The Professor" and "The Weatherman." Now I love a good party, so I gave it some thought for a moment, and then said, quite vehemently, "No way! I don't want these guys knowing where I live!"
But more importantly, I don't want to break this sacred bond, this male bastion of communication and friendship. These are hockey buddies and what happens on the ice, stays on the ice.
But now I leave all that behind, at least for a short time, and I prepare for the show that lies ahead. I have no idea what to expect.
Well, I have a little idea, actually. Tomorrow we'll have what's commonly referred to as the "Meet and Greet", which is the first meeting of all involved. Everyone will probably go around the room and introduce themselves and what their function is with the show, be it actor, director, stage manager. Then we'll start musical rehearsals, where (even though we might think we know the music) we'll actually learn the music, including things like harmonies, of which I'm guessing there are plenty. We might also do some "table work", where we literally sit around the table and discuss the story of MAMMA MIA! and how each of our characters fits into the story and what each character wants, what it is that motivates them. This is always a great place to start, not only as an understanding of the story, but also as an introduction of the people, all of whom will be working together for the foreseeable future. By the end of the day there may be some staging or dancing, but that remains to be seen.
That's what I expect to happen, in any event.
And so, as my father would have said, "We're off in a cloud of dry turtle dust."

1 Week To Go

2009-08-17T08:47:00.000-04:00

My new routine is to get up at 6:30, AM, and go for an early run, before anyone else in my house gets up. It's a very suburban thing to do, but I know when I start rehearsal, I won't have time for this kind of luxury, so I'm trying to take advantage of the opportunity now. I live in New Jersey and it's amazing to go down by the Hudson River that early in the morning and look out over New York City. It's an endless array of shapes, changing everyday as the sun muscles its way through the spires of concrete and glass.

One week to go before I start rehearsal. Actually a week and a day, since my Stage Manager Andy called me yesterday and confirmed my start time, next Tuesday, August 25 at 11am. People ask me if I've started to learn my lines. Learn my lines? Hell, I keep wondering if I'm gonna see a script before I start rehearsal. Probably not. Which is fine, because unlike a "straight play" where you spend a lot of time going over the script with a fine tooth comb, culling the nuances of a character and developing a through-line, in a musical it's mostly about getting up on your feet and moving as soon as possible. There's a lot of dance, or "movement for actors", in this show, so I'm sure we'll be on our feet early and often. There's also a fair amount of music to be learned, not that I don't know most of it already. It's ABBA, remember?

A note about the movement and my running. I run to stay in shape and, when I need to, lose weight. I've actually lost nearly 40 pounds in the last 3 months. It's the fourth time in my life that I've lost a lot of weight in a short amount of time. People are always astounded that I lose that much weight. "How do you do it?", they ask. The first time it happened a friend cautiously asked me if I had Aids. I did not. But my answer is always the same, "It's simple, but it's not easy." I eat the same things that I've always eaten (pizza, peanut butter and jelly, spaghetti) only less of it, I snack a LOT healthier (frozen grapes and granola and yogurt instead of Costco chocolate chip cookies, milk and chocolate milkshakes) and I work out (run, swim, play hockey). Those three on a regular basis seem to work for me, but everybody is different and I wouldn't profess to be a diet guru, so don't ask me.
But I also run to be ready for a show like MM! No one is gonna stand by my side and hold my hand and tell me I should stay in shape in case a show comes along. I, as a professional, have to be ready for the possibility of what's out there. Of what could come next. I expect this show, as fun as it will be, to be grueling too. Eight shows a week can be tiresome and exhausting and it's my job to be ready for the rigors. And so I run. Or swim. Or play hockey. Not that there's much hockey in MM! But hey, they're Swede's, so you never know.

The Emperor's New Suit

2009-08-14T11:00:00.000-04:00

Here's the difference between a lucrative, well established long running hit on Broadway - and everything else:

In everything else, for example, you meet the Costume Designer in the basement lobby of the shitty theater on 46Th street (because there's no proper fitting or dressing room with a mirror in which to meet) during a five minute break from rehearsal (when you might get a chance to take a bite from a PowerBar and have a sip of water), where she asks you if you have any clothes that might be appropriate to use as costumes for the new play you've just been cast in (as the emergency replacement because they've decided that the guy they originally hired {who wasn't really an actor, but rather a model who wanted to try acting and was an old student of the director and so she thought she'd give him a chance} doesn't have the "chops" to play the role and now you've been cast and you've got about 4 days to learn it before previews start) because:

A: she has no budget;

B: she's working on a show at the Midtown International Theater Festival and the New York International Fringe Festival , and is about to start working on a show at the New York Musical Theater Festival (none of which she is being paid for, of course) and has absolutely no time to go out and look for a costume for you;

C: she has no budget;

D: you're 6'4" and it's gonna be impossible to find a 1930's costume (the show takes place in 1936) that is going to be close to your size and even if she did find one she doesn't have the time or money to have it altered to fit you;

E: she has no budget;

F: and do you also possibly have a 1930's Fedora hat that matches the as-yet unfound costume because you also have a really big head (7 5/8) and if you think it's gonna be hard to find a three piece 1930's suit that can be altered to fit you, wait until you try and find a 1930's Fedora hat that is 7 5/8 and matches the as-yet unfound suit;

G: she has no budget... shall I go on?

Now, on "The Broadway", as we like to refer to it, things work a little differently. On "The Broadway" you get a leisurely call from Angie the Assistant Costume Designer from MAMMA MIA! wondering if you have time next week to come in to Barbara Matera's (one of the leading Broadway Costume production houses in New York City) to meet her so she can take measurements for the custom made costumes that they will be building for you. Checking your schedule, you reply, "Sure, how's next Wednesday or Thursday sound?", to which she, being the busy professional that she is, checks her schedule and responds, "Thursday at 12noon sounds good."

Next Thursday you arrive at Matera's on Broadway and 19Th St and take the stunningly old fashioned wrought ironed framed elevator (one of the few left in New York with an actual gentleman sitting on a stool, operating the handle that navigates the elevator up and down) to the 5Th floor, where you exit, only to be greeted at the front door with, "Hello, Mr. Boll, I'm Jonathan. Please come right in. Unfortunately Angie couldn't be here, she was called away to Mexico City for an emergency "put in" (a phrase which here means a cast change) in the Mexico City company, but I'll just be taking your measurements today, so it shouldn't take long. Can I get you something to drink?"

You politely decline and your measurements proceed without incident.

Two weeks later, you again receive a call from Angie, apologizing for her absence at your measurement session two weeks prior due to an emergency "put in" in the Mexico City company, but would you be free next week to come back in to Matera's for a fitting?

"Absolutely, name the time", you delightfully reply, enjoying the pleasant and respectful manner in which you're being treated.

"Let's say 12noon?"

"I'll be there."

At the appointed 12noon time, you again arrive at Broadway and 19Th Street, again take the graciously appointed elevator to the 5Th floor, and again are greeted at the door with "Hello Mr. Boll" - only this time a team has been assembled. The players, all of whom seem to have been eagerly awaiting your arrival, include, once again, Jonathan ("Good to see you again, Mr. Boll") as well as the aforementioned Angie ("Hi I'm Angie, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm so sorry I couldn't be here for your measurement session."), Scott ("Hi, I'm Scott, the Associate Costume Designer, it's a pleasure to meet you and welcome to the company."), various other wardrobe and production house assistants and your newest best friend and personal tailor, Arturo. ("Bon giorno. I am Arturo. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Boll.")

For the next hour and a half you are treated like a king, as assistants gently drape a newly minted tan and brown-checked linen suit ("ooh, I'm so sorry, careful of the pins...") across your body ("This is for the wedding scene, where Rosie chases you all over the set. There is a lot of gesturing and movement, so feel free to move about now and make sure nothing hampers you...") and Arturo carefully checks in with Scott about the placement of the lapels and buttons. ("I think, Scott, that the lapels might come down a half inch, no? And the buttons, the buttons can come in, yes?" In hushed tones all around, the answer comes "Oh yes, yes, very nice.") The perfectly manicured shoulder placement and arms-eye are carefully unfastened as Arturo, like a frickin artist with a canvas, gently slides a seam ripper between the layers, breaks the stitch and lowers the lapel, or opens the arm, or spreads the shoulders - anything to create the "perfect look" they so eagerly crave.

On another costume, a freshly created suit with the look of a court jester ("for the nightmare scene at the end of Act 1") of black and white diamonds and circles gives you the trim and tight figure of an Olympic swimmer you never knew you had. Tommy Tune's got nothing on you, as your height is accentuated even further by the high waist and long, elegant black lines of this ridiculously opulent suit.

"Oop...can I...sorry about this...just be care -" comes the gentle voice of the female assistant who has graciously, and carefully, reached down between your legs, right to the middle of your crotch and removed a dangerously loose straight pin.

"In case you want to have children again", she jokes.

"Two's enough", you reply, realizing the ridiculousness of the life you lead and the job you have and how lucky you are. What other job in life allows a woman to reach between your legs and pull down ANYTHING without getting a married man in trouble.

It is a common joke among people in our business that if the same rules applied to us as applies to "corporate" America with regards to sexual harassment, we'd all be out of jobs and most likely in jail. Innuendo and flirting is a big part of "the biz". It's how I met my wife years ago in Williamstown. It's how countless others have met over the years. It's not good, it's not bad, it just is. For actors, theater is a medium of emotion and feeling, and the core of that medium is sex. Sometimes the opposite sex, sometimes the same sex, but if you can't deal with sex, you're gonna have a hard time surviving this biz. It's what makes it fun. It's what makes it mysterious. It's what keeps people coming back again and again. Of course we don't corner the market on flirting in the workplace, but flirting, and the language that goes along with it, is what keeps it interesting.

As your fitting comes to an end, Angie remembers the boots. The custom made, six inch high, platform boots that you will be wearing at the end of the show. You know what she's talking about, but you feign ignorance.
"Boots? What boots?", you ask with a slight smile on your face.
"Oh, don't you worry. You'll be spending plenty of time in the boots. But I need you to go to the boot makers shop to get measured. Do you have time today?"

And suddenly you are whisked away to see Gino at T.O. Dey's up on Madison Avenue where he will carefully measure your foot and thigh in sixteen different directions in order to get the fit just right. As with the nice folks at Barbara Matera's, Gino graciously offers you a beverage - a glass of water perhaps, but you politely decline. He is quick with his work, precise and knowing, for he doesn't wish to waste your valuable time.

And as you leave T.O.'s, ready for lunch and an afternoon of commercial auditions following your exhaustive morning of fittings, you are once again reminded, as Mel Brooks so adequately stated, that yes, "It's good to be da' King!"

There's Broadway - and there's everything else.

Walking Dogs and Fielding Offers

2009-08-10T11:00:00.000-04:00

I have two Labrador retrievers, Morgan and Limo. Morgan is nine years old and black. She is a sweet old dog. Her main purpose in life is to stare at you with her droopy black eyes, forcing you into a defenseless submission at which point you find yourself giving in to her every whim. She was an old dog when we got her, having spent her prime as a breeder. By the time she arrived on our doorstep, she had already bred about a dozen times, so even though she was fairly young, she had been through the ringer. In fact, she had some extra weight on her which we gladly helped her work off, giving her a stable home and lots of love along the way. As she began to lose weight, people would notice that her stomach was somewhat distended, hanging low as it did. I would then mention, a bit defensively on her behalf, that if you gave birth to 50 children, your uterus would be hanging to the ground too, so back off! It seemed to do the trick.

Limo is Morgan's two year old son. (Yes, it's a mother and child reunion.) Limo is the exact opposite of Morgan. Where Morgan is black and docile, Limo is brown and full of more energy than an attention deficit child on cocaine. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, slows this dog down! I suppose that's what labs are supposed to be - boundless balls of energy. And for the most part, he's an amazing addition to our family. Except when you don't want an animal with that much energy. But we love them both and have a relatively peaceful coexistence.

The greatest challenge of any day is the morning walk, and this morning is no exception. Calling dogs to the front door, getting their assemblage of chains and leashes on, the routine of "Sit. Stay", while I open the door and go out first, making them follow dutifully behind (Cesar Milan would be very proud!) - it all works quite well, until Limo spots another dog, or a squirrel, or an empty bag floating down the street. Then all bets are off and it's "tear after it like a bat outta' hell!" But since I'm still bigger, I often win the battle and keep him in line (dislocating my shoulder in the process). But the walk proceeds nicely on this crisp summer morning until we reach the 3/4 mark of our stroll, when my cell phone rings. As my wife can attest, I don't often pick up my phone, letting it fall to voicemail instead, and this time would be no different. Only this time, I see that it is my agent calling, and my heart stops short a bit.

It's actually stopped short a few times in the last few weeks. Ever since my callback, I've been receiving periodic updates from Michael, all encouraging but nothing definite:
"So Patrick, it's Michael. I got a call from Eric over at Tara Rubin's office. He wanted you to know that he thinks you gave a wonderful audition and you're definitely in the mix for Mamma Mia. No decisions have been made yet, but they really liked you so... you're definitely in the mix."

A few weeks later:
"Patrick, it's Michael. Just want to keep you in the loop. I heard from Eric over at Tara Rubin's office. No decisions have been made yet, but he just wants you to know that we should hear something very soon, and they are definitely interested in you and... you're definitely in the mix."

And still a few weeks later:
"Hello, it's Micheal. Just want you to know I spoke with Eric at Tara's office. They just want you to know that the role of Bill will definitely be opening up in the Broadway company of Mamma Mia and, even though they haven't made any official decisions, they really liked you and... you're definitely in the mix."

To me, all of this is code to mean... I'm definitely in the mix. Nothing more. It's a good sign, to be sure, but I've also been around the block enough times to know that this is also code for... absolutely nothing. Until I see my name on the dotted line, I take nothing for granted. So though I've been glad to get these periodic and encouraging updates along the way, I'm still wary of being overly optimistic. I'm optimistic, just not overly optimistic.

So when I see that it's my agent calling, I decide to let the voicemail take it. This way, if it's an audition, which it often is cause I have the greatest agents in the world who work tirelessly to field offers and get me work (it's true!), they can leave all the pertinent information on my voicemail about the time, place and nature of the audition. Maybe it's a film audition, maybe its another Broadway show, maybe it's a TV pilot - in this biz, you never know.

The message icon pops up, so I hit my voicemail button on the phone - and suddenly, my life for the next year is about to change, drastically.

"Patrick, this is Michael, can you give me a call please, so we can discuss your offer to join the Broadway company of Mamma Mia!? Congrats, my friend, talk to you soon."

There are a lot of "ifs" in this business. "If" I get the audition. "If" they like me. "If" I get the job. "If", "if", "if"... I try not to concern myself too much with the "ifs" anymore, I just try and focus on the "now's" and the "what I can do's". Suddenly, I find myself on the other side of "if". I'm on the side of "now" and "what can I do". "Now", I just got an offer to play a leading role in a long running, hit Broadway musical. "What can I do?" I can refuse the offer, I can entertain the offer, or I can accept the offer. There are very few moments in an actors life where he can just sit and ruminate over these possibilities. Much time is spent pursuing this moment (auditioning) and much time is spent looking back on this moment ("I remember back when I got the offer to do...") But very little time is spent living "in" this moment, so I want to cherish that. I'm not sure how to cherish it, but I don't want to lose the opportunity of being able to cherish it.

The dogs must find it strange that I choose, in the middle of the walk, to simply sit down on a neighbors brick wall and stare. That's how I choose to live in this moment - stare. No jumping for joy, no screaming or hollering, just passively sitting and taking in what I just heard - "...can you give me a call please, so we can discuss your offer to join the Broadway company of Mamma Mia!?" I've been in five Broadway shows, but this will be the first show that I don't have to understudy another actor. This will be just me, playing a role. A great role. After all these years, after all this time, I just don't know how to react. Joy? Elation? Gratitude? A combination of all that? Now I can be cynical and say "Yes, it's just a job", but life is too short to think that way, and in my heart of hearts, I just can't. It's too great an opportunity and too rare an event to belittle it that way. Besides, in many ways it's more than "just a job". It's the culmination of everything I have been working for for years. It is, as all jobs are, a justification of what I do.

No, I didn't win a Tony Award for Christ's sake, but I was just offered a lead role in a long running, hit Broadway musical. Wow! That is frickin' COOL!

The rest of the walk home feels a bit numb, floating, as I go, to a destiny I know nothing about.

But my dogs seem happy.

Day 2 - The Callback

2009-08-03T11:00:00.000-04:00

There's a feeling you get - well, it's a feeling I get - when I have a callback. On some level this feeling goes to the core of every actor's need to be accepted. On the first audition I can walk out of the room and, no matter how prepared I am, no matter how good I feel and no matter how well I think I've done, there's still that feeling of, "I hope they like me. I hope I did the right thing. I hope I didn't screw up!" Beginning actors have it, mid-career actors like myself have it, international movie stars have it. Every actor has it, and if they tell you they don't, (because they're either too "cool" or too "good" or too "important") they're frickin' lying through their teeth. I guarantee it. Because every actor, on some level, wants to be accepted. It's why we do what we do. It's what keeps us doing it and striving to do it better every time. I just saw "Julie & Julia" and Meryl Streep (who I honestly can't stand because she is just so good) is ALWAYS striving to do better and be accepted - and she usually succeeds.

So the fact that I even have a callback means, on some small level, that I have been accepted. That I have been validated. That my work counts and matters and means something to someone. Having mentioned in an earlier blog that the casting of a show or a role can depend on criteria as varying as "your ability to cull the nuance of a character" to "the length of your eyebrow hairs", I know full well the absurdity of this "acceptance". I don't need it in order to succeed. I don't need it in order to be an actor. But I do need it to feel worthy. I do need it to know, in some weird way, that I matter. It's more of a "life" need than an "acting" need, I suppose, but it's a need all the same. Recognizing it does little to diminish it's power over me or any other actor. But the bottom line is, I've got the callback, and that's a great accomplishment. One that I'm certainly proud of, but nothing to rest my laurels on.

My preparation for the callback is basically the same as for my initial audition: familiarize myself as best I can with the material, listen to the song that "Bill" sings instead of "Sam" ("The Name Of The Game") and RELAX!

Now I'm prepped. Now I'm ready.

The callback itself runs pretty much the same course as the initial audition, only there's even less connection with the "team". By connection I mean less time spent in the actual audition room, fraternizing, as it were, with the auditioners. I realize it's not their job to be my "friend", it's their job to cast this show, so I have nothing but respect for what they're trying to accomplish. I wait in the hallway and run into my friend Christianne Tisdale who's also here for an audition. Years before, I was a "reader" (the person who reads the other roles when an actor comes in for an audition) for the Broadway production of BEAUTY AND THE BEAST when Christianne came in. She gave a terrific audition and got the role. Since then she's always credited me with being her good luck charm. I don't know if it's true, but it's very generous of her to say so. She's a good friend and a good person. While we were standing in the hall together making small talk, she introduces me to another friend of hers and one of the actors that I end up reading with named Graham Rowat. (As most actors do with modern technology, I Google Graham's name that night, only to realize that I should have been much more nervous than I was, considering the kind of credits he has to his name. No matter how much work I've done, I'm still always amazed and awed to be working with the incredibly high quality of people I find myself working with, even if it's only in the audition situation.)

Christianne and a few other women are called into the room, do their audition, then it's only myself and Graham standing in the hall. Wondering if perhaps we are waiting on a third actor to play the triumvirate scene, I'm surprised to hear Eric step out in the hall and ask us to come in.

"Gentleman, thank you so much for coming back. We really appreciate it. So, Graham, you'll be reading "Harry", Patrick, you'll read "Bill" and I'll read "Sam"."

We enter the room, again greeted warmly by the team with some small talk about our height (Graham, like myself, is tall, possibly 6'4""), and then we read through the scene. No singing this time, as the casting hinges (and I'm only guessing here) on which actors "fit" with other actors. Interestingly enough, that's the other thing about callbacks. When they bring you back, you've more than likely proven that you can already play the role. What they need to see is how each actor fits together to create the bigger picture. Which is the best way to "tell the story onstage". It is often a very ethereal and esoteric criteria, but it goes to the core of every show. It's also a skill that takes years to understand and comprehend as an actor, helping to quiet the "I just want to be accepted" voices, but never fully silencing them.

"Thanks, that's all we need for now."

And just like that, it's over. No hoopla. No "You were amazing!" No "You've got the job." ( That comes later.) Just a pleasant "Thanks" and you are on your way. Wondering, always wondering...

Stepping Up To The Plate

2009-08-02T11:00:00.000-04:00

I've been acting for many years.
How many, you ask? Well, I started when Reagan was mid term, if that helps. And I've gone on so many THOUSANDS of auditions - my favorite was when, about 2 years ago, my friend Manny asked me how much I get paid for each audition I go on.
"I don't get paid", I told him.
"You don't get paid? You mean you do all those auditions for FREE?"
He was astounded to learn that I didn't get paid to audition. But yes, it's true, for those of you out there who may be wondering how it works. Actors do not get paid to audition. Do you get paid to go on an interview?

As I was saying, I've gone on so many thousands of auditions that when my agent Michael called and said I had an audition for MAMMA MIA! (the exclamation point is theirs, by the way, not mine) I thought, "Oh boy, knocking on that door again". (Okay, props where props are due. That phrase comes from my buddy Kurt Zischke. He coined it, but I loved it so I stole it. As my college professor Kevin Kuhlke once said, "Good artists borrow, great artists STEAL!" Thanks, Kurt.)

I had auditioned for this show many times over the years, including Broadway, the national tour - even Vegas! Came close a few times. Actually came close every time, always getting a callback or two but never getting the offer. About a year ago I ran into Devin Keudell, one of the general managers of MAMMA MIA (herein after referred to as MM!), a nice guy and someone I had worked with years before on the ill-fated Broadway production of THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER. He asked me what I was up to and if I had ever auditioned for one of the Dad's in MM! I told him my tale of woe (always the bridesmaid, never the bride), and he suggested I audition again because I was "really the right age now." Suddenly a little light went off in my head and I thought, "Oh, of course, that's why I never got it. I was always too young." (All the Dad's are supposed to be in their mid-40's after all.) Of course I may have also not gotten it because my auditions sucked, but I like to think that ALL my auditions are fantastic and that it was merely my young AGE that had kept me from the job. (That's a little trick that I've taught myself to accept over the years. There's really very little I can do about getting or not getting the job. It's often about how long or short my hair is or what color my eyebrows are or that I remind the director of someone they hate or whatever! It's not my problem. So I just decide that my auditions are always SUPERB! That delusion I can always tell myself!) In the meantime I tucked Devin's little tidbit of advice away for extraction at a later date.

Fast forward to Michael's call. Somehow, it seemed to me I should take this audition more seriously than I had the one's in the past. The first thing I had to do was to actually see the show. Yes, it's true, I had never seen it! Un-American though it may be, I was a MM! virgin. So a few days before the audition I marched up to the box office, bought myself an obstructed view seat (I couldn't afford to pay top dollar), and I proceeded to fall in love with it like every other person over the last eight years! It's cheesy, it's schmaltzy, it's corny - it's 2 1/2 hours of Swedish pop songs, for Christ's sake! But it's also, for people of a certain age group, our youth. I grew up listening to these songs. And loving these songs. And to be honest, having just wrapped a production of HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL at Papermill Playhouse playing Coach Bolton a few months earlier, I found the MM! adults to be more integral, and less peripheral, to the story, and that was a pleasant surprise.

SO here I was, about to audition once again for this delightful musical. I was told to prepare the sides for Sam, the architect and the song he sings, "Knowing Me, Knowing You." Somehow, this time felt different from the others. Maybe it was my age. Maybe it was what Devin said. (I know, hindsight is 20/20, but still...) Whatever the impetus, I thought I better do everything I can to have a good audition, so I called my friend and coach Christine Riley and asked her to help me prep the material. I knew the song from the past auditions, but I thought a refresher might not hurt. She really helped me to focus not only on the story of the song but also the technical elements of emphasising certain parts and not pushing in others. She thought I sounded good, I thought I sounded good - I was ready.

The day of my audition I actually arrived early, which is not like me. With 2 children, 2 dogs, a house, a life, a career and everything else to juggle, getting to an audition (getting ANYWHERE) on time is a rarity. But somehow, I got there early. Too early. Eric Woodall, the casting director from Tara Rubin's office, was very gracious as he met me at the elevator.
"I think I'm early"' I told him, recognizing this might be the case since I was surrounded only by middle aged actress' obviously auditioning for the roles of Donna, Judy or Rosie.
"Yes, you are," was his reply. "We don't start with the men for a little while. Why don't you go out, relax, have a cup of coffee and come back in a half an hour."
"Well, I don't drink coffee, but I'll be back", I said as I removed myself.

A word about these middle aged actress', by the way. Some of them I know - as one tends to when you've stuck it out in this business as long as we have - like the un-Godly talented Michelle Ragusa, and some I'd never seen before. But all of them, I trusted, were the best in our business. And that makes me proud. To know that when I'm at an audition like this, I'm putting myself in the company of the best actors and actress' New York and Broadway has to offer, and that's pretty damn good. New York doesn't suffer fools, and if you want to make it here - whether it's on Broadway, in film, on TV - you've got to be at the top of your game. It's very unforgiving that way. You can't relax for a minute in this business, cause there are 20 people right behind you waiting to take that job. It's not mean spirited or vicious - quite the opposite, actually. The amount of support and encouragement is unprecedented, I believe. But no one gives anyone a break. It's the same spirit of competitiveness that this country and a free economy was founded on, and I'm proud to be a part of it every single time I go to work. Whether I'm on a Broadway stage or auditioning for a "Viagra" commercial at Beth Melsky's office - a job is a job and I'm a professional and if I don't do my best and raise my game to the highest level, I may as well get out. Cause everybody else will.

All right, enough preaching - although that's what a blog is for, no? So I can spew my thoughts out about life, liberty and the pursuit of all things MAMMA MIA!

After my re-arrival, I ended up waiting to actually "audition" for a few minutes as other men were also arriving. At most auditions you are invited into the room one at a time to read and/or sing. But for MM! they have a different system. They have each actor (or actress) come in and sing, then ask them to wait outside. After three actors have sung individually, they bring them in together to do a group scene. For the men, it's always the first scene in the show, when the three "possible Dad's arrive on the dock."

I entered the room for the musical portion of my audition and, as I approached the auditioners behind the table, was struck by the fact that I knew half of them. There was Janet Rothermel, the dance supervisor with whom, though we had never met, I share a babysitter, since we live in the same small New Jersey hamlet. And next to her was Martha Banta, the resident director, whom I hadn't seen in years but who's brother John once shared the stage with me as a spear carrier in THE LEGEND OF OEDIPUS at Williamstown Theater Festival. And there was the director Phyllida Lloyd whom I had met a few times over the years at my other, less successful auditions. There were others as well, including a musical supervisor who prompted me to sing from the show. I did as asked, all seemed to go well, and I waited my turn in the hallway. When the time was right, I was then asked to audition with two other terrific actors, neither of whom I knew before hand. As I read "Sam", the American, another actor read "Harry", the uptight banker from England, and a third actor, who really was English, read "Bill", the Australian. The scene zipped along just fine, at which point they asked us to step out in the hall and wait. Moments later, Eric came out and asked us to read different roles, so the "Harry" read "Sam", the "Bill" read "Harry", and I (the "Sam") read "Bill". Are you keeping up with this? Doesn't matter, the important part is what came next.

"Oh, Patrick, we're thinking of making Bill American, so when you get to the part in the scene when he says he's Australian, just say somewhere in America." So that's what I did.

"Are you from Greece?"

"Oh, no, I'm from... Kalamazoo!" It was the first, and most American, place I could think of. They seemed to enjoy it.

Four hours later, as I'm standing at a junior high school art show with my daughter, my cell phone starts ringing off the hook.

"Patrick, this is Michael. They loved you and they want to see you tomorrow for a callback for MM! for the role of Bill. I'm emailing you all the info. Call me as soon as you get this."

"Patrick, hi, this is Eric Woodall. We'd like to bring you back tomorrow for a callback for the role of Bill. I spoke with Michael and he's going to email you all the material."

"Patrick, hi, this is Dale, I'm Eric's assistant from Tara Rubin's office. Eric would like to bring you back tomorrow for a callback..."

It seemed endless. And fascinating. When they want you - they WANT you!

I left the art show, daughter in tow, feeling pretty good about what I had accomplished that day. But day 2, the callback, lay ahead. And the preparation started all over again.

Away We Go!

2009-08-01T11:00:00.000-04:00

I was recently cast as a replacement for the role of Bill Austin in the hit Broadway show MAMMA MIA!

People are already asking me, "How's it going?", "How are rehearsals?", "Are you having fun?", and I haven't even started yet.

Then I thought, "Well, the best way to keep everyone abreast of the situation would be to start a blog about my experience".

This way I can start at the beginning and update people as I go. And who knows, maybe there'll be some surprises along the way! So this is my first blog, elementary though it may sound.

It all started long ago, way back when I was a young lad...