Take Me Out (at the B.C.A.)
Well, I saw a lot of naked men today. Probably more naked men than I've ever seen in my life. I'm at least sure that I've never seen so many men naked at the same time. I heard that when the show first opened a good number of old people were so scandalized that they walked out of the theater(I know my Grandma wouldn't have. She knows what's what.). What a fucking show. I was just blown away. It won a Tony for Best Play in 2003, and I can see why. Well written, incredible characters. The pacing, the arc of the storyline, the designers' and director's choices, the ACTING in this production were all great. The first act was at least an hour, but when the lights came up for intermission, I was actually taken aback. I couldn't believe so much time had passed. The action never dragged. Two of my favorite local actors were in this one. Nathaniel McIntyre (the Junkie from Homebody Kabul) and Neil Casey (the cook from the Tempest and the amateur astrologist from the Arthur Miller reading) were fantastic. Neil Casey is probably has the best comic timing in the city. He's a genius. I went up to both of them after the show and shook their hands and thanked them for their performances. I would usually be too timid to approach people already in standing in groups, already holding conversations, but I decided to get over it. They were gracious, too.
Man, do I hate hate hate peer-pressured standing ovations. I obstinately remain seated through them. I only stand if I am immediately overtaken with an impulse to leap to my feet the moment the theater erupts with applause. Which in this case, I felt compelled to. The audience was incredibly responsive. I'm sure that contributed to my experience of the play. I was an usher for this production, so I had the chance to seat a good portion of the audience, and there seemed to be a lot of gay men in the audience. One of the things that I liked about this show was that in a sense it was about the issues of homosexuality and race, in a sense it was about sports(of course, baseball specifically), but at the same time it was just about the dilemma of being a human being in relation to other human beings in relation to our big world. I've thought about it a lot, and I think theater feeds that part of my self, that part of my soul that can't quite believe in God. The theater, to me is a sacred place. The hush of the audience the moment the lights dim is a sacred moment. The captivation of the audience is incredible. Whatever force it is that keeps me riveted to the seat,despite my desire to intervene in the action of the play is an important working metaphor. I know I need to keep in constant touch with theater. "Don't ever stop going," I said to myself as I walked home. Good theater gives us a salve and a sense of perspective.
I have been doing a lot of walking lately. I like to walk across town from Brookline to Emerson or Cambridge or the South End. And as a result, each pair of shoes I own, has developed its own special technique to hurt my feet. My feet are slightly different sizes, and my right foot(half a size bigger) ends up suffering for it. In my running shoes, my little toe is pinched and squished with each step. In my Birkenstocks, I have blisters on the inside and outside edges of my feet, and in my sneakers, the arch of my foot is strained. But after I walked out of that theater, and the rain started coming down, I knew with a feeling I could not contain, that I would work in theater all my life. I don't even care exactly what I do. I want to try it all, propel it forward from all angles, you know? House Manager, Stage Manager, Dramaturg, Artistic Director, Usher, Front of House, Playwright, whatever, who cares? I walked all the way home on blistered feet in the rain, grinning maniacally, idiotically. My stride was long, and my feet didn't even hurt. They just felt walked on. I was so happy to be in a position to see whatever I like, get my soul fed for free, no one to answer to, nobody to tell me not to walk home alone, possibilities exploding all over. I kept wiping the rain off my forehead and slicking back my hair, almost feeling happy that it was raining. I was in my own little world, sure that I would live in New York City at some point, toying with the idea of moving out west after college like to San Francisco or Oregon or Seattle or something. Fantasizing about working for a theater in Latin America or Spain. I was just sort of letting my mind run over surfaces, planning, wondering. The actor's life is notoriously difficult-- all that auditioning and starvation and table-waiting and rejection. (Although I've come to believe that if you're good enough and if you're in it for the right reasons there will be a place for you somewhere.) But anyway, it seems to me, that if you're willing to do anything in theater for little or no pay, it's not so hard to, like, Break Into the Business.
There is so much going on here, right in Boston, I can't even see it all. But I've been trying. This week alone, I saw Duplex at the BCA Black Box, Julius Caesar at the Cambridge YMCA, Take Me Out, and tomorrow Susie and I go to Somerville to see Herostratus. Since I've been back in Boston, I've seen Falsettos at the Huntington, a reading of All My Sons at the Shubert, The Boston Theater Marathon in the BCA Wimberly, Shakespeare in Hollywood at the Lyric... I want to be SEEN everywhere too. Austin, an Emerson graduate who I see as a BCA big shot offered me a job in September. Which really excites me even though I am going to be so busy in the Fall, I MUST work at the BCA.
Man, do I hate hate hate peer-pressured standing ovations. I obstinately remain seated through them. I only stand if I am immediately overtaken with an impulse to leap to my feet the moment the theater erupts with applause. Which in this case, I felt compelled to. The audience was incredibly responsive. I'm sure that contributed to my experience of the play. I was an usher for this production, so I had the chance to seat a good portion of the audience, and there seemed to be a lot of gay men in the audience. One of the things that I liked about this show was that in a sense it was about the issues of homosexuality and race, in a sense it was about sports(of course, baseball specifically), but at the same time it was just about the dilemma of being a human being in relation to other human beings in relation to our big world. I've thought about it a lot, and I think theater feeds that part of my self, that part of my soul that can't quite believe in God. The theater, to me is a sacred place. The hush of the audience the moment the lights dim is a sacred moment. The captivation of the audience is incredible. Whatever force it is that keeps me riveted to the seat,despite my desire to intervene in the action of the play is an important working metaphor. I know I need to keep in constant touch with theater. "Don't ever stop going," I said to myself as I walked home. Good theater gives us a salve and a sense of perspective.
I have been doing a lot of walking lately. I like to walk across town from Brookline to Emerson or Cambridge or the South End. And as a result, each pair of shoes I own, has developed its own special technique to hurt my feet. My feet are slightly different sizes, and my right foot(half a size bigger) ends up suffering for it. In my running shoes, my little toe is pinched and squished with each step. In my Birkenstocks, I have blisters on the inside and outside edges of my feet, and in my sneakers, the arch of my foot is strained. But after I walked out of that theater, and the rain started coming down, I knew with a feeling I could not contain, that I would work in theater all my life. I don't even care exactly what I do. I want to try it all, propel it forward from all angles, you know? House Manager, Stage Manager, Dramaturg, Artistic Director, Usher, Front of House, Playwright, whatever, who cares? I walked all the way home on blistered feet in the rain, grinning maniacally, idiotically. My stride was long, and my feet didn't even hurt. They just felt walked on. I was so happy to be in a position to see whatever I like, get my soul fed for free, no one to answer to, nobody to tell me not to walk home alone, possibilities exploding all over. I kept wiping the rain off my forehead and slicking back my hair, almost feeling happy that it was raining. I was in my own little world, sure that I would live in New York City at some point, toying with the idea of moving out west after college like to San Francisco or Oregon or Seattle or something. Fantasizing about working for a theater in Latin America or Spain. I was just sort of letting my mind run over surfaces, planning, wondering. The actor's life is notoriously difficult-- all that auditioning and starvation and table-waiting and rejection. (Although I've come to believe that if you're good enough and if you're in it for the right reasons there will be a place for you somewhere.) But anyway, it seems to me, that if you're willing to do anything in theater for little or no pay, it's not so hard to, like, Break Into the Business.
There is so much going on here, right in Boston, I can't even see it all. But I've been trying. This week alone, I saw Duplex at the BCA Black Box, Julius Caesar at the Cambridge YMCA, Take Me Out, and tomorrow Susie and I go to Somerville to see Herostratus. Since I've been back in Boston, I've seen Falsettos at the Huntington, a reading of All My Sons at the Shubert, The Boston Theater Marathon in the BCA Wimberly, Shakespeare in Hollywood at the Lyric... I want to be SEEN everywhere too. Austin, an Emerson graduate who I see as a BCA big shot offered me a job in September. Which really excites me even though I am going to be so busy in the Fall, I MUST work at the BCA.