Help: to give is sometimes easier than to receive…

Later today I have a coffee date with the producer of the show I’m in right now.  This is a last resort, a desperate attempt at salvaging some shred of professionalism in this production.  I’ve tried other avenues to no avail.  And so, here I am, preparing for a mid-morning Starbucks tête-a-tête...because it’s what I feel I have to do.

There comes a point in any production that’s headed south where you have a choice to make.  Either you wash your hands of it, whether that means walking away or staying without caring what becomes of it, or you figure out how to set your anger and your ego aside and do everything you possibly can to make the production a success.  I have chosen the latter.  Because I don’t believe in quitting.  And I don’t believe in doing things half-assedly, if you will.

More than any other reason, though, I have chosen to take charge and to be proactive out of respect to my fellow actors.  We have endured enough as a company, between the unforeseeable setbacks and the mishandling of the various minutiae of this production.  And we’ve stuck it out.  Because we made a commitment.  And all of our patience and work and perseverance deserves a degree of respect. 

This is what I feel we are currently lacking. 

And I know I said I wasn’t going to write about this show while it was still happening.  I’m sort of reneging on that now, but I’m doing it with the best intentions.  Which seems to be my motto this past week.  And I realize it is with these that the road to hell is paved, but good intentions are better than none whatsoever.

We had our first on site rehearsal this past weekend.  Aside from the fact that it was a holiday weekend and we were rehearsing, I want to point out that it was outside.  In early April.  In Toronto. In a week where it snowed at one point.  So, while the sun was shining, the wind was also gusting, and we were freezing.  In a six hour day, we took one ten minute bathroom break and we were given a twenty minute lunch break.  Since we were in the middle of nowhere, it took twenty minutes just to walk to and from the location of food and warmth.  We inadvertently doubled the length of the lunch break.  The director was very upset.  Some of her reasons for being upset were valid—we should have been back on time or called or pointed out before we left that it wasn’t a long enough break.  But this wasn’t done maliciously.  We literally did not think of it.  Some of her reasons were accidental on our part—everyone turned their ringers off for rehearsal and thus we did not receive her phone calls telling us to come back.  And some of it was also her fault.  She was not looking out for our health and safety on a very long, very cold, very windy day.

I think her oversight is the result of having taken far too much on.  She is directing the play.  Now she is acting a large role in the play (which is another story entirely).  Additionally, she is our weekend stage manager as our actual SM, who has been with us for about a week now, has prior commitments on the weekends.  And these are just her responsibilities in the context of the play.  I know nothing of her life outside of it.   This is too much.  For anyone.  Let alone for someone who is young and relatively inexperienced.  She is, in my opinion, in over her head.

But she won’t ask for help.

So I am trying to offer help both to her and to the cast in as supportive and non-threatening a way as is possible.  Whether this means following the script for lines, being a sounding board for people’s concerns, helping to work technical issues in our rehearsals, or just having a few good jokes at the bar afterwards, I’ve done it all this past week.  And I don’t need credit and I don’t need glory, all I ask is that you accept the help that’s being offered.  The cast has, and with a sigh of relief.  The director has not.

It is this unwillingness on her behalf that has caused me to go over her head.  Although I hate to put it that way because that wasn’t my intention.  But she won’t listen/work/acknowledge me in this respect and the reality of the situation is that outside eyes are necessary.  Someone has to help alleviate some of the pressure she’s put on herself.  I’ve tried.  But I can’t force her.  He can.

And I don’t mean to tattle or anything so juvenile, but she is harming the production and I’m concerned for her, for my fellow actors, and for myself.  We have another outdoor six hour rehearsal scheduled for this week.  The weather forecast is similar to the day of the previous rehearsal.  She has asked us to bring lunches so we don’t have to go inside at all as she feels it is a waste of rehearsal time.  I feel this is unhealthy and unsafe.  I expressed my concerns to her in a very polite, professional, and non-confrontational email (I know it was all of those things because I re-read it 6 million times to be sure it was before I hit send).  I suggested we go inside and do an Italian.  This way we have the opportunity to warm up while not wasting rehearsal time.  I felt like this was a reasonable solution that all parties could live with.  I got no response.  Not even an acknowledgement of the fact that I had concerns.

So I picked up my phone.

Because sometimes everyone needs to set aside their egos and their need to do it all (and I, too, have that ego and that need) in service of the play.  Because we are here, after all, in service of the play.  And, by extension, the audience.  Otherwise, what’s the point?

My purpose, as it were, in posting this isn’t to complain or to place blame.  It’s to point out that we all need help from time to time.  And that there is no shame in accepting it when it’s offered.  And no matter what your role in a production, you should always take ownership.  Especially when there is an issue that seems to be going unresolved.  If you see something that needs to be done, do it (of course, as respectfully as possible).  Take charge, be proactive, because chances are someone will thank you for it later.

Theatre Bloggers of the World, Unite!

Ken Davenport, Broadway and Off-Broadway producer and fellow theatre blogger, is hosting a theatre bloggers social. Because sometimes having conversations in the real world makes those in the inter-world more interesting. Also, theatre people are fun. Here are the bare bones details:

Thursday, April 23, 2009
6 PM - 8 PM
Planet Hollywood
Broadway @ 45th St.
New York

Mr. Davenport does request that you RSVP (which you can do by leaving a comment on his post). And for all us out of towners, there may be the chance to connect virtually. The food won't taste as good, but we can still be a part of it!

On professionalism, or how (not) to direct a play...

I am in a show right now. One I was hesitant about accepting a role in. Partly because it seemed like an odd casting choice (it no longer does, in the context of this production) and partly because my last experience working in non-professional theatre was somewhat disastrous. But I went for it, because nothing risked, nothing gained. And because it seemed wrong and unfair to write off any non-professional production based on one lousy experience. But now it seems like every time I turn around, this production is falling apart at the seams, much of which can be attributed to a lack of professionalism.


And I should say that I think "professional" refers to people or to theatre groups who behave professionally, not necessarily just those who are being paid for their work. At heart, I was a professional actor when I was a high school student. And I have yet to trick anyone into actually paying me to act (minus one or two teensy tinsy stipends). Because I don't need a paycheque to understand what my responsibilities to a production are and to do everything within my power to fulfill those responsibilities. Apparently (and yes, I've always known this), not everyone feels similarly...


All this being said, I feel it would be in poor taste to go into all the details of this current production's shortcomings. I'm still in the middle of it. I may still change my mind. So I don't want to say anything I might later regret. And since it isn't over yet, I still have faith that it may manage to turn itself around in the next two weeks. Finally, of course, I hope you'll all come see me (!!!) and I'd like you to be able to do that with as little bias as possible.


So, instead I'm going to tell you about the first disaster, the one that made me hesitant about taking on this show...this is also the tale of why I don't talk so much about where I went to theatre school...but I'm getting ahead of myself.


Here is "How (NOT) to Direct a Play" in 7 easy steps.


A bit of background: I moved to the U.S. o' A. when I was but a wee child (read: an angry nine year old) and puzzled for many years over why my Green Card was actually peach in colour. I was eligible for citizenship about an eon ago, but for whatever reason, the fam and I never got around to it. Until I graduated from university and wanted to move back to Canada. The deal with the Green Card is basically that if you leave, you lose it. Peachy. Many frustrating and boring arguments with my parents/conversations with the lawyer later, I wound up trapped in Michigan going through the citizenship process. Because losing the ability to work on both sides of the border when I don't have to (becoming a citizen allows me to retain those rights) would be silly. And eventually I did become a dual citizen (bi, if you will) and haven't been south of the border since.


But there I was, hanging out in Michigan (where I didn't have any friends) and working at Victoria's Secret (not glamorous at all, in case you were wondering). Super fun. And totally fulfilling after spending four years away at university in New York City and abroad dreaming of becoming a working actress. When I graduated I was ready to work my tail off, to get out there and give 'er. Clearly, none of that year was what I had in mind.


And then I auditioned for and got cast in a play. A Shaw play. And life suddenly seemed better. I was over-the-moon thrilled. Not only was I cast, but I was playing the lead. I was off-stage for maybe twenty minutes out of 2 hours. And it was just a great part for me. This is what actresses dream of (okay, the role, maybe not so much the small Michigan theatre part)! So, in the two weeks between auditions and our first read through, I channelled my excitement into a dramaturgical fury. I learned everything I possibly could about the world of the play, from geography to politics to literary references...every little thing imaginable, I was an expert on all of it. And I perfected my British RP accent by renewing my love of the International Phoenetic Alphabet (sigh...). I went into that read through ready and raring to go!

But here is where we start the downhill slide...


1. Set a positive and productive tone for rehearsals, starting day one.


The first read through was on my birthday. I felt like it was a first date. I got dressed up, I scoped the site out early, I stopped by Starbucks for a Venti Mint Tea (fresh breath assurance!), and I brought chocolates for the cast...which was really because I like to have treats to share on my birthday. Anyway, I showed up early-ish (let's say 10 minutes or so because that's my standard MO) and the only people there are the producer and an older actor who I auditioned with and who is clearly playing my dad. We'll call him Pops. We make small talk whilst waiting. I realize that the producer and I have a mutual friend. I'm excited to be making new theatre friends! Then this lovely woman with short red hair shows up. This is Mama Bear. I auditioned with her, also, and we had great chemistry so I'm beyond excited to see her.


Fifteen minutes later (which puts us ten minutes past the start of rehearsal) everyone else rolls in together: four other actors, the stage manager, and the director. Clearly they all know each other quite well. We later learn they are all students in the theatre program at one of the local universities. They're friendly, but not overly. Before we've even begun there's this divide of them and us, with "them" being the students and "us" being me and the 'rents. I figure we'll get over this. Which we do. But not until dress rehearsal. No, seriously. So the mood is kind of awkward, but I'm so happy to be there I barely notice.


Eventually everyone gets situated and the director, who we will call C. (because it's his first initial and because the only nicknames I can think of are meaner than is really necessary), gets up to make a speech. He likes making speeches, we will learn. He makes at least one a rehearsal for the next month and a half, twice as many after we open. Oh, and he thinks he's funny. He isn't.

He starts out by talking about what a great cast we have and by getting all of us to introduce ourselves, which is all fine. Then he launches into this speech about how we all have such interesting stories. Of course, the most he knows about the 'rents and I is what he could glean from resumes and the standard audition form. He talks a bit about Pops, who was in the army. And then he comes to me...


2. Make your actors feel safe and comfortable with one another and within the production.


C. announces to the cast, none of whom I know, that I studied theatre at New York University. Not tells them, not mentions it, but announces it. As if he were holding a press conference. I cringe. I did go to NYU. I worked my tail off to get in, to get through, and to graduate with honours. And I'm very proud of that. But it's not something I feel the need to flaunt, especially to people who haven't yet had the benefit of getting to know me. Because it gives me a lot to live up to, all the hype. And because some people find it intimidating. Intimidation is not what I'm about. Neither is arrogance. I didn't really want to talk about it. The way that he said it just made me feel like I should be apologizing for something...and when I think he might be done and this can't possibly get any worse he adds, "You know, I wasn't sure about casting you because I really hate Strasberg..." I also studied there. Which he knows. Good-bye productive working relationship...


If you ever direct a play and cast an actor whose training conflicts with your own theatrical philosophy, either deal with it productively or don't cast that actor. Do not, I repeat NOT, ever do what he did and continued to do...


There's nothing wrong with the sentiment, the Stras and I have a troubled relationship as it were (which is whole other blog post), but there was no need to say that in front of everyone and in the way that he did. Especially when I don't know any of them and you do. I then spent most of the rest of the production convinced that all the students hated me. Especially because C. brought up how Strasberg was wrong at least once a week for the duration of the show. And I was doing nothing Strasbergian. How could I even consider it when that was the foot we got off on? And his fellow students got in on the action. So there I would be at rehearsal defending my training instead of, oh, I don't know, rehearsing. I felt like I couldn't use anything I learned at NYU. It was almost enough to make me walk. In hindsight, I probably should have. But I had no other creative outlet and I was starting to lose my mind. And I did learn many things from this particular production.


3. Directing is about exploring relationships and the world of the play.


We do all manage to survive the read through. And there are even some funny moments. Both the 'rents are hilarious and even I garner a few laughs. I don't think I'm funny. I know it's crap, but it's just how I feel about myself on stage. So laughs are good. It's reassuring. I still manage to leave feeling like this will be a positive experience.


Rehearsals get under way and it's power-blocking from the start. It's a three act play with 7 characters and we have a month and a half to rehearse. Power-blocking is unnecessary at this stage in the game. Never do we talk about who these people are, what this world is that they live in, what their relationships are, or what is even going on here. Never. Not once. I find this odd. Directing is not just blocking. Any idiot can move bodies through space. And, for the record, most of the blocking winds up being organic anyway. Minus the one or two forced crosses I had to invent logic for...but that's my job, isn't it?


Needless to say, we block half the play by the end of the first week. C. starts cancelling and shortening rehearsals. I feel this is a bit presumptuous. I feel there is a great deal we could be working on, character-wise. I'm feeling lost. It's actually a huge pet peeve of mine when directors don't work with you. I don't necessarily take criticism beautifully, particularly from people who have thus far only really insulted me, but I appreciate suggestions, questions, ideas, etc. I'm receptive to other people's interpretations; I'm all about a collaborative process. And I am getting nothing at this point. And my co-star is getting nothing productive, just a lot of line readings. C. is working endlessly with one scene between two minor characters instead. Completely necessary, without a doubt, but given that I spend 90% of the play onstage and my co-star about the same, shouldn't we get some of that attention? But what do I know...and so we blunder on.


4. The director is the leader of the production. Lead by example.


From day one to the end we had an order of arrival at rehearsal. The 'rents and I would show up about ten minutes early, always. Generally, one of the student-actors would be there at least five minutes early. The other student-actors would roll in at the exact time rehearsal was to begin. Then the stage manager and the director would show up anytime from when rehearsal was supposed to start to 10 minutes late (disclaimer: SM was reliant on director for a ride, thus she had no control over the situation. She was generally awesome and kept me from quitting on more than one occasion. She also loathed C. and managed to hide that from us all, the picture of professionalism). They had the keys, so we would be standing outside until they showed up. Really awesome on the many rainy April days. And then we would spend fifteen or so minutes setting the space up. And no mention was ever made of this tardiness.


Of course, heaven forbid one of us showed up late to rehearsal. And we had to be really late for C. to notice following his own tardiness. He would then huff and puff and run off on some tangent about how we all needed to be on time. Hypocrisy beyond measure. You know, one really valuable lesson I learned at NYU that I'm fairly certain is taught at all theatre schools is that "early is on time and on time is late." Heck, even Strasberg got that one right. No one likes having their time wasted. This one goes both ways, I don't care who you think you are.


The situation grows more and more tense with each passing rehearsal. Whilst I silently endure yet another round of "101 reasons why Strasberg was wrong and everything about him sucks," C. freaks out on my co-star for not being off book. Now, I will grant that Mr. Co-Star was a disaster on the lines, but we were still a solid two weeks from going up. We hadn't even loaded into the theatre yet. Plus, we did the show in dialect and the co-star struggled somewhat with that--it isn't everyone's thing. But instead of approaching the situation maturely, professionally, and/or productively, C. pitches a tantrum, throws his hands up, and storms out. Literally walks out of rehearsal with his car keys and doesn't come back until five minutes before rehearsal ends. And while he's gone, our SM, the champ, keeps a professional demeanor, keeps rehearsal moving, and keeps a smile on her face. And, as if by magic, the minute C. walks out the door, the tension lifts, the show becomes fun, and the rest of rehearsal is great. Which C. promptly takes credit for upon his return. Awesome.

Ridiculous though that rehearsal was, it marked a turning point. Us against them became, from that point on, the cast vs. C. It was as if we suddenly all realized that none of us could stand him and that was enough to bond us as a cast.


5. Successful productions embrace ensemble attitudes. Acting is a team sport.


We finally move into the theatre. The cast helps load in, paint sets, move furniture, set up dressing rooms, clean...run the most foul, obscene, hilarious line-through humanly possible. C. stands in the middle of the theatre and directs traffic. Which is somewhat necessary. But not lifting a finger in 5 hours is just plain lazy. And he is far more stressed than the situation warrants. He is also angry that the actors are having fun. Meanwhile, our producer is in the dressing room sewing buttons back on costumes.

Around this time, we also start the publicity push. Which was, by the way, a joke. Our posters wound up being pretty neat, although they didn't use this picture, but somehow they weren't being seen anywhere. Because everyone had an excuse about why they couldn't put up more than two or three. These ranged from "I have exams" (most of the students) to "This is not my job" (Pops). I was appalled. I get the "exams" excuse, I've been there. But putting up some posters is not that time consuming, especially when done as a team. The "it's not my job" moment was just enough to push me off the deep end. To the point of silent rage. So I said nothing. But I picked up 40 or so posters and between rehearsal and the 40+ hours at my crappy job I managed to hang each and every one of those suckers throughout the town with a smile on my face. Because hanging posters may not be my job, but being good in this play is my job. And I think most actors would agree that it is easier to be good when you have an audience. Especially in a comedy.



6. A rule for both life and the theatre: In success and defeat, one should always be gracious.


Now, by the time we're in final dress, there's not much love left for C. So when he makes a comment to Mr. Co-Star about Mr. Co-Star's personal life, all bets are off. To the best of my recollection, it was something relatively benign but Mr. Co-Star lit into him with a string of profanities that left even me speechless (and I can swear with the best of 'em, thank you, NYC). C. turns tail and gets the hell out. The most we see of him from here out is when he pokes his head into our dressing room before, during, or after performances. Literally, pokes. He comes in as if he's afraid of us. Absolutely terrified.

But we hear him. In the audience during every single performance. Laughing. No, guffawing. At his own jokes. It was the kind of laugh that was meant to say, "Oh, did you see that? Wasn't that witty and brilliant? Yes, I did that..." And even if it wasn't something he had done, if one of us had a spontaneous moment of brilliance on stage, he still found a way to take credit.

And as if the endless self-congratulation throughout the show weren't enough, we had the world's longest curtain call. In character. Honestly, it must've been 15 minutes long. And I just remember feeling it was painful. For the audience, for us. And, frankly, the show wasn't good enough for anyone to have been applauding us that long. But C. wouldn't change it...

7. A great theatre experience is one in which everyone walks away wanting to work together again. This starts from the top...

In the end, C. successfully alienated himself from every person in the show. And this is sad. Because I don't think he was a terrible person. He wasn't even a terrible director, he definitely had potential. I think he came into the show intimidated by the cast and by the production and compensated for that by being an arrogant prick throughout the experience. It didn't have to go that way; it could have been a very productive and positive working relationship if he had been honest and owned his issues from the start.

And there are maybe two people from that show I'd consider working with again. Not because the rest weren't talented, but because I want to work with people who are talented and who have respect for their fellow theatre artists and for the process. Apparently those people are harder to come by than I ever realized...I think, at least for me, when I'm in a show, I want everyone from directors to designers to actors to be as good as they possibly can be. And I will do everything I can to support everyone else. But everyone collectively has to reach out and make the effort for this kind of support to be possible...

So that is how this started. And while this show is very different, it bears a striking resemblance to the original, more and more with each week. Which isn't to say the same people are causing the same problems, that isn't so. But the same general lack of professionalism can be found creeping in bit by bit. This being said, this show is better than the last, in all ways. And the next one will be better still. It's just that sometimes people's behavior baffles me...but all I can do is stick this one out and do everything I can to make it successful. And that is exactly my plan.

I will not be parted from either my idealism or my optimism!

Threatening and manifesting

Kris Joseph over at Struts and Frets posted this today and it has me thinking about things I'd perhaps forgotten or overlooked of late. In his post, he talks about the real threat to theatre: the theatre community. The theatre has been dying for years, if you ask many of us, and yet it has endured and survived through all manner of hardship, including its outright ban in certain times and places. So perhaps we shoud acknowledge that no outside force is capable of silencing the theatre for good. If anyone or anything is killing it, it is the theatre's artists, with misplaced priorities and agendas, with the industrialization of training and of productions, with whining in place of action. As Kris Joseph put it, "We're kicking the horse and screaming about animal abuse at the same time."

Which leads to the question why do we do theatre? Why do we make the choices we make? How did we start out on this path and why are we still here? Sure, we were all bright-eyed and idealistic once upon a time, but the real world takes that out of you little by little; it can lead you astray. Which leads to the other talk online about theatre manifestos--Ian Mackenzie contributes productively to the discussion (as always) at Theatre is Territory 2.0, summing up the latest and issuing a call to write! Manifestos give us direction, help us to re-establish our goals, principles, and priorities. By writing them, or revisiting them, we can see how far we've strayed and how to get back on track. Certainly it is difficult, especially as you are beginning a career in a recession-obsessed world, to hold onto your ideals in everything you do on a day by day basis. But if you were looking for something easy, you probably shouldn't have picked theatre in the first place. So why are you here?

For Kris Joseph, his theatre and its survival are about service: "Passionate creators and artists connect their theatrical work to a reverence, respect for, and a desire to serve the audience." And for me, well, I am inclined to agree. It is through this service that theatre will continue to survive and endure. By placing our emphasis on serving, we bring the audience in and create a theatrical community much greater than ourselves, both individually and as a group of artists. It becomes about more than our egos or our bottom lines or even just the story. It becomes about a group of people and a conversation--theatre should always be a conversation. It also recognizes the audience as a more active participant in the creation of theatre. And much like it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a community to keep the theatre alive.

And so I leave you with these words of wisdom on serving the audience from one of my favourite (and most brilliant) RADA teachers, Gregory de Polnay:

"Hamlet was not talking to the fucking cupboards. You have to take the audience with you. You can take them by the hand and lead them to paradise or guide them up the garden path and slit their fucking throats, but take them with you..."

Cast at last...

I had an audition this past weekend. I didn't mention it because, while I enjoy being honest, my tenuous grip on my self-esteem requires that I not broadcast all of my failures. But it was a good audition. And my work paid off. I got cast.

But I wasn't thrilled. I wasn't disappointed either. I was just hesitant.

The production is Twelfth Night, which I think I mentioned everyone is doing right now, and the part is Maria. I just think this is an odd choice. Not necessarily bad, just odd. This is not how I would cast myself in this particular play. But, of course, casting wasn't my job. And I do trust that there was a reason that makes complete sense for the choice, I just can't see it.

After the initial shock, I thought about it. The last show I was in I played a part that was perfect for my "type" (which is a four letter word, indeed). The show wasn't good, I wasn't great, and, were it not for my determination to maintain a positive attitude, the whole thing would've been a bad experience. A few shows ago I got cast in another part I didn't think I'd ever play. And it was awesome. I felt like maybe I should stop worrying about it and embrace it. After all, learning to see yourself in a different light can be liberating. Or, at the very least, educational. Plus, this is a wonderful opportunity to work on my wonderful comedy skills. Mad comedy skills, I tell you. So, while I think it's a weird choice, I'm going to go with it. And my Twitter friends seem to agree with this choice, so it must be a good one.

I think the most damaging lesson I learned in theatre school was about "type." Because, frankly, "type" is crap. And it is really not helpful to most of us. And it's a lazy, lousy way to cast a show. Sure, it's important to know how other people are going to view you when you walk into an audition, but this knowledge can also make it far too easy to pigeon hole yourself. And really, you don't know what anyone is thinking the first time they see you. I was told I'm an ingenue. I didn't like it. I learned to embrace it. And I've been cast against it 75% of the time since. So is this really helpful? I'm skeptical.

But every weird opportunity that comes your way is probably just another opportunity for growth. And, of course, for the making of new theatre friends. I will keep you all posted on how it goes--read through this weekend, wish me the best!

Question...

Why does it seem that everyone is producing Twelfth Night this spring/summer? I have no objections, I am just curious. I have seen audition notices for at least six upcoming productions, and today the NY Times announced that Anne Hathaway will be playing Viola in the Shakespeare in the Park production of the same this summer.

I have no objections, I am just curious--why this play now? Thoughts, anyone?

Praxis Theatre blogs, produces, and parties. All astonishingly well and with a sense of humour.

This past Friday I was privileged to attend the sold out opening night of Praxis Theatre's production of Stranger, a show developed in three workshops over two years. I've been waiting to tell you about it until I could link to my thoughts on the production (which were committed for posting on The Theatre Centre Blog). Fortunately, Stranger runs until February 8, so there is still plenty of time for you to see it--but I wouldn't put it off any longer. Anyway, I won't go too much into my thoughts on it here since I've already written them elsewhere. I will say, though, that I enjoyed writing about it almost as much as I enjoyed watching it.

I am also linking to J. Kelly Nestruck's review at The Globe and Mail. I disagree with his judgment of the show, but I respect his opinion and I do think he makes some valid points. I would also be curious to know, from the creators at Praxis who I imagine will see this at some point, why does Praxis keep "selecting novels by authors who were equally adept as playwright?" I imagine there is a good reason (and I like the selection), I'm just interested in the conversation. Why this play now?

But what I really wanted to write about on my blog with regards to Praxis and Stranger is the reception they held after the show. It turns out I know someone who knows someone, and I was strongly urged to come to the opening so I could make new theatre friends. Well, I'm glad I listened. Because I did make new theatre friends. And laughed, a lot. It turns out they know how to throw a pretty good party, in addition to writing that blog and you know, doing shows. So here are some highlights from my night out with Praxis:

You know the awkward feeling you get at first when you're at a party where you don't know anyone? It kind of started out like that. Because after my friend left, I really didn't know anyone. And everyone was celebrating. So I was kind of the outsider (appropriate to the theme of the show, I guess). But it didn't take too long to get over, especially when I met he of the blog, Michael Wheeler ("You must be BFG." Oh goodness...). Mr. Wheeler was very kind and made some introductions, which I very much appreciated.

The people at Praxis are smart. I miss smart people. Smart about theatre people. Don't get me wrong, my friends are smart. But it's a different kind of intelligence. And it seems like much of team Praxis has studied and/or performed all over the place. It's a very cosmopolitan (though in a non-pretentious way) bunch. I too have studied in various places. It was nice to hear about their experiences outside of Toronto and then coming back...

In one conversation, I commented on how I don't really know what the difference is between the industry (I hate calling it that, but it is) in New York and the industry here in Toronto. My source (who I will not name out of respect to her privacy) told me it could be summed up in a single sentence: In New York, everyone wants to see the new face and to put you out there, in Toronto, they don't. She told me she still has difficulty getting a general audition with a theatre company in the city after many years. And that so do many other very talented people. While I think this is, frankly, disgusting, it's also a relief in some respects. It is not just me. It is, apparently, the way the theatre world works in Toronto (note to self: change the way the theatre world works in Toronto). I don't think it's a good modus operandi for a thriving theatre community, but at least when you know where you stand, it's easier to know how to proceed.

And then I met another associate of Praxis who had me laughing so hard I had pains in my sides. She was lovely. And we discussed theatre programs for kids in Toronto; she is working on starting one. We talked about how most that exist are severely limited, to be exact. I've actually interviewed with one such program and was told I don't have enough experience (me, the summer camp counsellor with the B.F.A. in theatre). The limitations are imposed by programs looking to employ teachers with an interest in theatre and not theatre artists with an interest in teaching; there is a distinct difference. It was nice to have a conversation with a like-minded individual.

I went home smiling. Aside from seeing a good show, I met some great people. I was reassured that I am, in fact, doing the right things. And I was reminded that a career in this city in what I want to do is all about diversifying. So, I advise anyone who can to go see Stranger and to hang out with Praxis, either online or, better, in real life. They're all smart cookies and they have a lot to offer. I am grateful that they shared so generously with me. And I hope to see them again soon! You all have a standing offer from me to buy you coffee/beer/lunch for the privilege of picking your brain.

When it rains, it pours.

When today started, I had one audition booked for next week. The kind that I just scheduled, not submitted for. Now I have three auditions booked for next week. With two on the same day. And I got them from submitting. And now I'm all panicked and agitated.

I don't consider auditioning to be my strong suit. And very, very rarely do I find it fun. I need to get over all this, I realize. But I wasn't expecting to have to do it all next week. And one totally threw me off since I submitted to them in, I don't know, October maybe?

I am, of course, prepared for none of it. Which is my own fault, without a doubt. I think I know what I am going to do for each one, so we're a step ahead of last time already. But I would hardly say the plan has formed beyond that.

But, of course, I've already thought about what would happen if I got each of them. Or any of them. Jumping the gun, I know. I can only do one of the three projects (if I'm fortunate enough to land any of them) because they're all theatre and they all interfere with one another. As luck would have it, too, it then becomes a matter of prioritizing: one is a good career move (I think), another is a good financial move, and the third is a consolation prize but would definitely make me a better actress.

Nothing happening in your career is frustrating. But something happening in your career could be just as challenging...

Getting an audition is just the beginning of the battle. If you're fortunate enough to get a foot in the door, what do you do next? This is what I'm still learning. And I will let you know what I figure out.

And I thought I was lost and confused...

I don't have a whole lot to say today and was planning (am still) to tinker with my blog formatting (I am still new at this, I don't speak html, and I don't love el blogo yet). Then I was bored and surfing the web and I saw something I felt merited blog postage.

So, my current day job contract is up at the end of the coming week (anyone hiring?) and, as a result, I am hunting for new opportunities. In the course of investigations I have, of course, been through the classifieds, and what should I come across but multiple posting with titles like "Serious actor launching career" or "Actress/Model seeking work." I click on them because I am intrigued. I refuse to link to them because I am appalled.

Basically, they are all the same thing: several bad photographs (some semi-nude, almost all suggestive) of people who look like they haven't got a clue, an email address, a list of their skills and "training," and links for websites, resumes, etc. So I follow a few of them because I really want to know who thinks that posting on classifieds is going to get them a "serious" acting job. Some have taken acting classes, it seems, but not necessarily from reputable teachers/schools. And whoever told one girl that she needed to list her measurements on her resume should be banned from advising all aspiring actresses in the future.

It is so easy to be taken advantage of in this industry. And I don't know whether people chose to post this information in the classifieds on their own or if someone suggested it (I am not under the impression that anyone has ever gotten a real acting job like this, please correct me if I'm wrong), but it's kind of pathetic. And mostly sad because, well, it doesn't seem like these people have any idea about how to get the ball rolling (and I say that as someone who is frequently also at a loss). I don't even know what else to say, I wasn't aware that people did this.

This isn't, obviously, a well thought out post...more of a ramble, really. But, I guess my point is, don't we all, in this community as well as others, have a responsibility to help along the next generation? To mentor those who haven't yet accomplished what we have so they don't wind up deluding themselves or looking silly? I believe so. And while I haven't come that far, I certainly have tried to help those I can (and my little protege is doing quite well on her theatre school audition tour). And I am always looking for someone to show me the way...So, if you are in a position of some power or if you know anything at all, get out there and share the wealth. So people don't post crazy things in classifieds and so I don't lose my mind.

Changing how you think of yourself changes everything.

My first year at university the head of the drama department told us that the difference between actors from our school and actors from other schools is that actors from our school have ideas. I wasn't sure what exactly this meant at the time, but I know it sounded exciting. What he meant was that when we graduate, it is with ideas about what is means to be an actor and what it means to be an artist. These ideas are not, I would argue, specific to me and my fellow alumni but my alma mater did take painstaking care to instill them in each of us. Over four years of very intense training, equal parts practice and theory, we developed our own sense of what each of these titles meant to us. Always, we were encouraged to view ourselves not just as actors but as theatre artists.

This concept of myself as a theatre artist was frequently challenging for me. While I have more than a few ideas about acting, about theatre, about the world, I always felt false referring to myself as a "theatre artist." To me, it sounded pompous, arrogant, pretentious...Perhaps because I have seen it portrayed as such so many times. But it doesn't have to be. In fact, thinking of yourself as a theatre artist can be liberating. This is what I am learning now.

Creating a career in theatre is a Herculian task, requiring an iron will and unwavering determination. Any advantage you can give yourself in this pursuit is invaluable; thinking of yourself as an actor only is limiting, stifling even, and discounts your worth to the theatre world. Any well-trained actor is capable of contributing to more than just what is happening on stage (in my opinion not only are we capable of it, but it is our responsibility). And when you realize this, you begin to understand how the potential for a career in theatre is infinite.

I have an unexpected and intriguing interview today for an unpaid internship with an artistic development program. It isn't my dream job; it isn't on stage. It isn't a job for an actor. But it is an opportunity to grow as an artist and to engage in the theatre in a new and meaningful way. It is an opportunity to demonstrate the breadth of what I am capable of. If everything goes well it has the potential to lead to a productive relationship with a prominent theatre group and to further ideas and opportunities. I think this is the modern day version of "paying your dues."

Tom Stoppard's Coast of Utopia was on stage at Lincoln Center in my final year of university and one night a favourite professor (also a well-respected theatre critic and editor) decided to use his second comped ticket for a good cause. Namely, me. It was the best seat I ever had in a New York City theatre. And not just for the fantastic view of the stage. As we sat there talking about my future plans and pipe dreams he told me something I have carried with me every day since: It is very difficult to make a living in the theatre, but, if you want to, you can make a life in the theatre.

So I propose that the difference between "actor" and "artist" is this: to be solely an actor is to limit yourself to the neverending pursuit of a near impossible living, whereas to be an artist is to open yourself up to the possibility of a life.

The neck bone is connected to...

Today I want to talk about one of the many bits of wisdom I picked up in Theatre School. Now, Theatre School is quite different from, say, Business School or Medical School or any other kind of School. It’s unconventional, to say the least. The good Theatre Schools are, anyway, and my alma mater certainly falls into that category.

Today’s lesson is about how Casting Directors have no imagination. You, as an actor and potential castee, must spell it out for them. For some casting directors (and I do know some) this is not the case. But for many, especially the ones who don’t love their jobs and aren’t particularly successful, it is. And here is a story to illustrate my point.

In my final year at Theatre School, I spent a semester having my soul sucked out by a camera learning how to act for film and television; it is a completely different art form than theatre. As part of this foray into the dark side we were required to meet every Monday night with industry professionals. These included casting directors, commercial casting directors, agents, and managers. It was, well, interesting.

The majority of people who came in were nice and encouraging. Some were even intelligent. The best of them tended to be of the agent or manager persuasion, though there were a few bitter ex-actors thrown in: word of advice, you don’t ever want to work with one of these. The worst tended to be commercial casting directors. My disclaimer is, of course, that not all casting directors or commercial casting directors are like this. But you should probably go in expecting them to be; if they aren’t, consider it a pleasant surprise.

My group’s first encounter was with a commercial casting director who we’ll call “Horace” (Why “Horace?” Why not?). The idea was for him to impart the wisdom of his experience to the eager little actors before we took turns reading mindless drivel commercial copy for him. The reality was that this man obviously had not much of a personal life and viewed this as a phenomenal opportunity for him to command an audience and run the show. He certainly thought he was charismatic. And maybe in real life Horace is a wonderful person, but all signs pointed to Loser. It was almost sad. Almost.

Horace rambled on at length about everything we absolutely must do in order to get a job. None of it was original, insightful, helpful, or even accurate. I was fortunate enough to have had a much better source of career advice the previous semester. Anyway, in the course of regurgitating the text of every bad book on how to break into show business, he starts on the topic of headshots, a topic frequently obsessed over by actors, significantly less so by everyone with the power to actually give you a job. And out of the pile, he grabs mine.

My headshot is, admittedly, a faux headshot. My senior picture was a black and white headshot and used to serve this purpose incredibly well, but that picture was taken when I was 17. I look a bit different now. The current headshot (and I do need to have new ones done) is actually an impromptu snapshot of me taken by my boyfriend, The Photographer, with a professional camera whilst walking through the woods in England. How romantic. I am wearing a cashmere scarf/shawl, my hands are in the picture, and I look about to laugh or do something mischievous. So it isn’t really a traditional headshot but here is why I use it:

1. It looks like me on a good day. So I look good. But it also looks like me when I walk into an audition. Subsequent comments on this headshot have, indeed, included, “Wow, this actually looks like you.”

2. It is interesting. At least, I think so. It says something about me and isn’t just me posing nicely for the camera. Your headshot is supposed to get people interested. There is nothing particularly interesting in just smiling for the camera. My point is, this picture shows my personality. Another subsequent comment: “Great picture.”

3. I like it. Plain and simple. Given that I could not (and still cannot so much) afford “real” headshots, it was and is the best alternative.

Horace’s comment?

“Look at this! This is a bad picture. I can’t tell what you look like, I can’t even tell if you have a neck!?! Do you have a neck?”

Well, Horace, if I don’t have a neck, how do you suppose my head is attached?

Why Won't "Reality" Television Die?

MTV has just announced that they have 16 new reality shows in the works. 16?! Apparently ratings have slipped (or tumbled) causing them to rethink their programming choices to hold on to that coveted youth demographic.


But, here's the thing, I am not an effing demographic. And I, frankly, cannot deal with anymore mindless MTV drivel being paraded around like content. Nor do we need anymore Speidis or Hiltons, people with no real talents who are famous for nothing. We're not talking about the competition shows, either, like American Idol or So You Think You Can Dance? or Top Chef or whatever else where the contestants actually have to do something (not that those are all good shows, but at least they have to do something other than shop and party). We're talking about The Hills or Real Housewives or any other show that follows random people around with cameras and attempts to sell it as "reality" after editing it down to 22 episodes that resemble poorly scripted melodramas. And it isn't a documentary even if it has the production values of one; very little of it, if any, nowadays is at all enlightening or insightful. Newsflash: this kind of programming is no more "reality" than scripted television, this just means they don't have to pay writers. Which is why it continues to exist: "Reality" television is cheaper to produce. Plain and simple. Rebel, I say!

And, meanwhile, it is contributing to the dumbing down of my generation. Plus, it takes away jobs from our creative classes--writers. directors, actors, etc. Is mindlessness really what we need in the world right now? Or couldn't we argue that this is the kind of thing that helped get us to where we are now (big, messy, undeclared war, global recession, tanking economy, bickering politicians, etc)? We need some intelligence on our screens and some responsibility from those giant corporate networks. Or we need to turn the TVs off, which is still not the right route to go because there is some interesting work being done there. Maybe we all need to take a step back and reassess our values.

And this is my rant for today.

Wouldn't this kind of turn-around be nice?

The former star of the recently canceled, critically acclaimed Pushing Daisies, the lovely Kristen Chenoweth, has already signed on to another project! That took all of about 2.5 seconds. Chenoweth is set to star in Legally Mad, David E. Kelley's new legal drama. It is being produced by Warner Bros. Set in a Chicago law firm, it follows Skippy (Chenoweth) "a cheerful and brilliant attorney who nonetheless exhibits flashes of psychosis -- and enjoys being mistaken for a teenager." While it sounds like the perfect part for her, a) do we really need another primetime legal drama? and b) isn't this a little Ally McBeal-ish? I'm sure KC will be brilliant, though...hopefully she'll sing too...do we suppose they could work that in??

Weekend Update.

I successfully survived Snowmageddon. And Snowmageddon 2.0, a.k.a Saturday night. Although I did spend several somewhat frustrating hours waiting for my siblings to arrive at Union Station in the interim. I met a family from North Bay and a cat named Mozart.

It was a weekend of work-related events. I was going to say office parties, but since I worked at a children's summer camp that wouldn't be an entirely accurate assessment of the situation. But it was back-to-back Saturday and Sunday night. I suppose, really, I should just be grateful to have had work Christmas parties: one very sad friend of mine informed me that his place of employment "cancelled Christmas." My office's version of recession economics was a limit on champagne. And really, there's nothing like making drunken small talk with your colleagues.


This whole working in a real office thing has been very interesting for me, sort of like a window into a parallel universe. It's not something I ever really thought I would do and, I have to say, it hasn't been terrible. Granted, it's a little exhausting, somewhat creatively stifling, and quite frequently boring, but on a good day, it's also kind of fun. It's organized, structured, constant...something that theatre generally is not. And I can appreciate that. On a short term, basis, anyway. I still maintain that in the long run I would probably have to poke my eyes out with the letter opener...

And I like to think I have brought some of my actress's energy to the workplace--actually, I'm sure I have. While work ethic translates through all professions, the politics of each profession and place of employment are different. Now, this office is fairly laid back, but it still doesn't have quite the same feel as a rehearsal room. But there are similarities and sometimes I think they are almost the same if you can only draw those things out--you can still have a serious place of business and a laugh at the same time. I think I have encouraged everyone here not to take things too seriously. Have a little fun, too, as long as you still get your work done. We're not machines, after all.

And now that I feel I've brightened the experience and accomplished something here, it's just about time to get out. I need to do something creative again (even better if I could get paid for it) for my own survival and sanity, whatever that might mean.

A very successful producer on a panel discussion I attended said that he admires actors because they have one of the hardest jobs. He told us, if you can imagine yourself doing anything else, do that instead. But the problem is I really can't. And that is what is so terrifying, the fact that I have to do this.

I am in it now, for better or worse.

Something Worth Investing In...

Today The Guardian is reporting a new initiative to offer free seats at various theatres to people 26 and under. This is simply another affirmation that I would be better off in London.

I would love to go to the theatre, the opera, the ballet, everything, more. Or at all. But the unfortunate reality is that I cannot afford any of these things. True, some of them offer better and better discount programs, but the reality is that, for someone working at minimum wage or even just above, a $20 ticket is still expensive. It means I manage to make it out maybe once a month instead of once a week...or more! I think this is probably the reality for many artists in a position similar to mine--just starting out, etc.

Also, I appreciate the fact that the Arts Council in Britain really feels that this program they've started is an investment in culture. It's an investment undervalued in most other places, which is unfortunate. After all, what will we be remembered or known for if not our culture? And what will that mean if we have none? How can we have any when we do not see it as a worthwhile investment?

I don't propose to have all the answers...but at least I am thinking about the questions.

Good night, Grand Aspirations. (Good morning, Reality.)

As if the epic amounts of snow that seeped into my ballet flats on my way to work this morning (I, genius that I am, forgot my winter boots at the office last night...and, by winter boots, I mean Uggs, which anyone who has ever stepped in a cold slush puddle whilst wearing them knows aren't really winter boots), I was reminded of the harsh reality of my life this morning when the first courier into our office was wearing an ACTRA Toronto toque. We had a chit chat that basically amounted to how I don't have a reel, an agent, or, it would seem, a hope.

I am consoling myself with the fact that his toque said ACTRA and not AEA because I don't really want to do film, commercials, or television that badly anyway. He did, though, take care to remind me that it's almost impossible to make a living in the theatre. He was a nice enough guy, it's the facts themselves that are distressing...

A very wise and experienced man, one of my favourite theatre critics/professors, once told me that, while it is very difficult to make a living in the theatre, it is quite possible to make a life in the theatre. So which would you rather have? A life or a living?

More importantly, how would this fit under the tree?

Richard Ouzounian, theatre critic for the Toronto Star, wrote today about his five theatre Christmas wishes that the big man in red can't grant. I would like to request any and all of the same because, basically, what they all amount to is more theatre in Toronto, more Canadian theatre, and more potential work for those of us who are "emerging actors," whatever exactly that means. So if Santa can't do it, could those of you with the power to make these things happen please work on it?

Battle of the Titans??

Apparently, Fox has picked up the film rights to How To Talk to Girls, the self-help book written by a 9 year old. Cute, but really? Is there a movie there? Actually, it could be really good if it falls into the right hands...And that kid has definitely paid for his future university education. Lucky little bugger.

But more importantly, it was Ellen who helped to launch this kid to super-stardom. Could her powers now be rivaling those of the big Queen O??? Ponder that over your lunch break.

The End of An Era.

Last night marked the final "episode" of the cult/going mainstream hit Trailer Park Boys on Showcase. I happen to think these guys are brilliant, if a bit off colour. There is an interview with them in the Star and, judging by the comments, clearly people either love them or hate them. Whatever your personal feelings, you have to admire the fact that these guys and Mike Clattenburg had a crazy idea, went with it, and wound up with a hit series, a few specials, a movie, and a sequel due out in February, I believe. And, as a bonus, they have had the chance to work with some incredible artists in different mediums throughout their careers as the Boys, including touring with Guns 'n Roses and an ongoing relationship with The Tragically Hip. Gordon Downie was in last night's final episode. And I think I spotted Rob Baker buying weed from Julian. Bonus, if you've never seen it, here is The Tragically Hip video for The Darkest One. Check it out! And so long, Trailer Park Boys, it's been a good ride. Can't wait to see what the future brings from you...

Patience & Anxiety: Helpful Hints

Patience is a virtue. Or so I've been told. I wouldn't really know as it certainly is not one of my virtues. An unfortunate character flaw, and one I am always working on, but a reality I have nonetheless come to know and accept.

Being an artist requires a great deal of patience. On the one hand, you have to go out there and make things happen! But on the other hand, you have to patiently trust that as long as you keep trying, eventually, things will happen. It's contradictory, messy, and a breeding ground for anxiety. But this is what you, as an artist, have gotten yourself into. If you can't handle it, you may want to get out while you can. If you aren't sure whether or not you can handle it, you probably can. Most of us can handle more than we give ourselves credit for.

Every now and then the anxiety, the "what-the-hell-am-I-doing" hits me. Generally at odd intervals, when I'm doing not much of anything, or when I think of a submission I haven't heard back about yet. It got me for a while last night, but I managed not to let it get out of control. Amazingly, I have developed some ways of coping recently.

1) Take deep breaths. Seriously. If you have any kind of training in relaxation, which you probably do if you have any kind of training in theatre, now is a good time to use it. Things that are useful in theatre are often also useful in life.

2) Focus on the positive. Think about the things you have accomplished. And think about what you consider to be an accomplishment. I once had a teacher, a well known agent/manager/producer, tell our class that most of us are too hard on ourselves--if all you do in the first year after you graduate is manage to pay the bills and live on your own, be proud of that. It is an accomplishment. So don't make it about what you think you should have accomplished or what other people have done. If managing to get out of bed in the morning is a big deal, celebrate the fact that you have done that much. Give yourself credit.

3) Think about what you can do in the future. This includes thinking about things you could do differently--I believe nothing is a total failure so long as you've learned something from it. It also includes all the things you haven't yet done. I guarantee there will always be something you haven't yet tried. I, for example, was worried about submitting to auditions. Then I thought about the fact that I haven't even begun submitting to agents...So there is still work to be done. And a lot of anxiety has to do with feeling like you're at a dead end.

4) Find a temporary distraction. A book, a movie, a tv show, a friend, a game, anything (well, anything not self destructive). If you think about anything for too long, you will lose your mind. Take a break. Give yourself permission to take a break.

5) Get it out. If you are having a freak out, sometimes all you need to do is get it out. Put it out there in the universe, get it out of your head. Keeping things in only makes you dwell on them more. This could mean talking to friends or family. Or, if you're like me and for whatever reason just can't talk about it, write a journal or start a blog! Or dance about it. Or paint it. Just get it out!!

Those are some of my hopefully helpful thoughts for this morning. I did notice I've had some hits on this blog in the last 24 hours, so I hope there is someone out there a) reading this and b) benefiting from it. Or it could just be people clicking that "next blog" tab up top. I do that sometimes. Whatever the case, it's kind of neat!