Travesties

If you want to talk about the acting company

Let’s talk about them in technical terms, okay?

Because that’s what I feel comfortable in

We were doing Travesties last season

Our forty-night

And I started thinking of all of them

In this way

This very specific

Sort of

Purely technical way

Because I really don’t have much interaction with them

Aside from these ways

Not once we’re working on a show together

I just keep things technical

So one looks good in this light

One can’t handle props

One gets blocking backwards—all the time

One gets sort of sing-songy if you ask her to do an accent

One complains about his costume constantly

One never complains about his costume even when he should

One is usually miscast

One is underused

One is slowly drinking himself to death

One is looking for a way out

One is trying desperately to stay in

One is this

One is that

That’s the problem

With looking at things

From a purely technical standpoint

You really can’t do it

They’re people

I mean, they’re actors

But they’re still people

And I feel like sometimes

We---and by ‘we’ I mean me, but other people too—

We sort of forget that

We get mad because they’re sensitive

Because they’re all so sensitive

Because they all seem one way

So general

So generic

The picture of a stereotype

The difficult actor

But then one pulls you aside one day

And says—

In this sort of tragically insecure voice—

‘Was I good?  That thing, that thing I just did—was it good?  Was I right?  Did I get it right?’

And sometimes they even say—

‘This time.  Did I get it right this time?’

And you just want to hug them

Because they’re really just kids, you know?

They’re really just sort of…big kids

Big kids who can never seem

To find their light

And you have to forgive them

You have to forgive them

For just about everything

Because, you know, they’re just actors

They don’t know any better

Medea

I guess I’m nervous

That actors just aren’t meant

To be parents

Like, it’s just one of those professions

You know?

Like, I hear about surgeons

And how they’re never around

Or these crazy business people

Who spend every waking minute

At their office

And I think—

Why do those people have kids?

But why do I have kids, you know?

We were doing Medea

In 2007, the fall

And my son was just starting school

And my husband is at the police academy

And my lines weren’t sticking

And I thought—

I should give one of these things up

One of these things

Should go

And do you know what’s weird?

And by weird, I mean, unacceptable?

When I thought of each thing

Like, in terms of

If I could go back in time

And change one thing

--I’m not sure I’d change the fact

That I’ve been in love with theater

Since I was eight years old

But…

Would I not have met my husband?

Would I not have gotten married?

Would I not have my daughter?

Compared to theater

Those things seem…negotiable

And, you know, that kind of thinking

Is prized by the people I work with

By the directors who work with me

They can tell

That I would give everything up for this

At a moment’s notice

But I feel like regular people

Normal people

Would just look at me in horror

If they knew

How much I was willing

To sacrifice

So what does all that mean?

That to be a good actress

I have to be a bad wife?

A bad mother?

A bad person?

You say you’ll do anything

And then someone shows you anything

And you think…

Can I do that?

Am I capable of doing that?

I might be, you know?

That’s the scary thing

To keep this

This thing that I’ve loved

Almost my entire life

I just might be capable

Of anything

The Desperate Hours

You probably don’t know

The Desperate Hours

You’ve been hearing about shows you know

Shakespeare

Chekhov

Things you’re familiar with

But you probably aren’t familiar

With The Desperate Hours

But you’re probably thinking

What a great title

And it is

A great title

In 2008, the Orpheus Theater

Stopped being a corporation

It had stopped being a theater

A long time before that

And in 2008

It became a cult

Suddenly, everybody was saying

The same things

Suddenly everybody decided

That we were geniuses

That the theater was a landmark

And that we should start celebrating ourselves

Every year

So Tennessee created an award

And the Board named the award

After Tennessee’s father Beau

Who, believe it or not, is still alive

Beau came back to the theater

To accept the first award

That would also be named after him

And I was his liason

The first thing he said

When he got to the Orpheus

After having been away from it

For, literally, decades?

What the hell have you people

Done to my theater

The second thing he said?

And what the hell is The Desperate Hours?

The reason I bring up The Desperate Hours

Is because nobody

I repeat, nobody

Had bothered to read that script

A literary intern read it

Then gave it to the head of the literary department

Who, because he was going on vacation

Gave it to Tennessee’s assistant

Who liked the title

So she gave it to Tennessee

He read the first page

Decided it seemed okay

Gave it to the Board

To see what they thought

They also liked the title

And someone’s nephew had done it in college

And said it was good

And so it landed on our mainstage

Let me summarize for you:

A show that nobody read

Except a college sophomore

Who was interning at the theater

In between getting stoned and writing bad poetry

Somehow

Wound up

On our mainstage

I only know this

Because in addition to being Beau’s liason

I was that literary intern

I liked that show

But I knew nobody would read it

And I also knew nobody reading it

Would be the show’s best chance

At getting picked for the season

And I was right

And I liked the title

I didn’t get any credit, of course

But I did get the satisfaction of knowing

That when people were saying—

‘What an interesting show.  How ever did they find it?’

And everybody at the theater said

‘Well, we’re geniuses.  It’s just what we do’

And I, in my own little mind, would think to myself

I did that, you assholes

I did that

So that’s my little secret

But please

Tell whomever you like

Nobody will believe you

 I mean, look at me

I’m stoned right now

And I’m not even out of college

And I still know more about what goes on at that theater

Than the Artistic and Executive Directors

Scary, isn’t it?

Like I said

It’s a cult

Cults are scary

But I’m sure you already knew that

Marat/Sade

Can I tell you a story?

Uh…

God, I’ve never…

Okay, um…

We were doing Marat/Sade

This was…not that long ago

2010, so—yeah, two years ago

Seems like…

And there was this boy in the show

Who I didn’t talk to

At all

Because he was…

Fuck, he was beautiful

Is, beautiful, sorry

This isn’t a story where, like, he dies or anything

It’s not that kind of story

So, uh, that show was crazy

I mean, it’s a crazy show

And we all went a little crazy doing it

Except me

Because, uh, I don’t go crazy

I’m not really the type

But, uh, one night

During the show

The boy

That boy

Looked at me

From across the stage

And just sort of…

I don’t know

It was a look

And I…

I looked back

I went home

To my boyfriend

We ate soup

We watched tv

We cuddled

And then I thought about that boy

I fell asleep thinking about him

He was from New York

They brought him in

His name was—

Never mind

I won’t say his name

The show finished

And we had a party

Which we didn’t always have

But I think after this one

We thought we needed a party

And it was a successful show anyway

So why not, right?

And we’re at the pub

And the, uh, the boy is there

And I decide to leave

I’m walking to my car

And from behind me

I hear—

‘Hey’

I turn around

He’s there

The boy

He walks up to me

And kisses me

There

On the street

Next to my car

Then he walks back to the party

I go home

My boyfriend’s asleep

I wake him up

I tell him what happened

He’s not…

He’s not all that upset

He says ‘He kissed you.  It’s not your fault.  I love you.  Forget it.’

But I can’t forget it

I take it into the next show

Into the next character

Into the next day

And the next

And the next

That kiss

That boy

That music

Coming from the pub

Something about…houses

A house

And how it’s…breaking

Or something

And it’s all the…Fuck, I’m sorry

I have to stop for a second

I’m sorry

. . . . .

My boyfriend

He says we’re happy

He introduces me

‘This is my boyfriend.  He’s an actor

We’re so happy’

I’m not happy

But I have no reason

To be unhappy

You see?

No reason

But I’m an actor

I can act happy

I can act happy

Better than anyone

So that’s what I do

But my lips…

My lips remember

So they speak

And they want to speak about him

That boy

So they kiss

My boyfriend

And they want to be kissing him

That boy

So they talk

And all they say

Are lies

Acting

Script

Bullshit

Okay?

So that’s my story

Thank you for listening

I’m pretty sure I’ll never tell it again

Now, if you’ll excuse me

I have to rejoin my boyfriend

Back at the party

A Delicate Balance

I have Martin

He’s my partner

Husband

Whatever we’re calling it nowadays

We met back in 2006

When he was working as the house manager

And I was the directing A Delicate Balance

At the Orpheus Theater

Martin and I have a life

A nice life

A house

Two dogs

Three bedrooms

We go to Kansas City

Once a year

To see his family

And Baltimore every three years

To see mine

We both do theater

And we both love it

But we rarely, uh, see each other

I mean, in the context of work

And so…

Not ‘and so,’ sorry

Not ‘and so’

Um…

Martin slept with this other guy

After A Delicate Balance

This actor

He really likes actors

And as a director

That really sort of irks me

But…

But I sleep with them too

So what am I really supposed to say about that?

We are

Surrounded

By cute

Gay

Actors

All the time

And we’re human

So…we have rules

The rules keep things in check

The rules are

I can sleep with actors I’m not working with

The ‘not working with’ part

Is my rule

For myself

I am allowed to sleep with actors

And Martin is allowed to sleep with actors

And we

Are not

Allowed

To sleep

With the same actors

Because actors

Talk

So he sleeps with actors

And says ‘It’s an affair.  Don’t tell.’

And they think it’s sordid and wrong

And so they keep it secret

To keep it sordid and wrong

And I do the same with my actors

And the same thing happens

And everybody knows what’s going on

And nobody says anything

And it’s really quite fantastic

Except for the fact

That I want to kill myself

Al the time

Everday

And I’m very, very aware

That one day

We’re going to be old

God willing

Or not

And not all that pretty to look at

And we’ll still

Be surrounded

By gorgeous

Actors

And we will not have, uh, cultivated

The personality

To deal

With that

With being just…

With just being…with…

Each other

And I worry

And I don’t

Because I love him

And he loves me

But we’re never alone

Never

And we tell ourselves

That we are the way we are

And that’s because we’re passionate

And artistic

And interesting

And so, it’s okay

It’s okay to be this way

To do things this way

That it’s how we work

But one day

It will be how we don’t work

Do you see?

One day it won’t work

And we don’t think about one day

And we don’t talk about one day

We just wait for it

For the day

Things have to change

And in the meantime

We suck up

Every minute

Of now

But I can feel it

Disappearing

The now

The present

I can feel it

All

Just…

Disappearing

A Thousand Clowns

I have a daughter

A little girl

Precious

I can show you pictures later

If you want

Which you should

Want to see them, I mean

Anyway

I have a daughter

And one day

She’s going to do theater

Because I do theater

And it’s in the blood

Trust me

It is

And the only advice I’ll give her

When she comes to me

And tells me she wants to do theater

Is—

Don’t fall in love with a gay man

And if he does theater

He’s already at least twenty-five percent gay

Even if he winds up being straight

In 2009—this was before my daughter was born

I did A Thousand Clowns

At the Orpheus

And I fell in love

With one of the acting interns at the time

Who was gay

He sort of loved me too

In his way

And I said ‘Let’s have a kid together

Like—just for fun’

And he said ‘Sure’

Because we were both high on coke at the time

And so we did it

We had a kid

Now I have a kid

And he’s backpacking in Europe

With a nice young man named either Stephen with a ‘ph’

Or Mikel with a ‘k’

Yes, the gays spell ‘Mikel’ with a ‘k’

Probably just because

It looks better that way

I’m not angry

Or upset

About anything I’ve just told you

I just wish somebody had warned me

That the theater is a wonderful place

Where you will meet wonderful people

And they will be gay

And you should not love them

As anything more than friends

And/or second family

Not that I have regrets

I love my daughter

And she loves me

And we both love her gay father

Even though we haven’t heard from him

Since he called us

From a payphone

In Zurich

It’s not a traditional life

But what can I say?

We’re a theater family

We’re anything but traditional

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead

A conversation with an audience member

After a performance of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead

By the Brilliant Tom Stoppard

-       Did you enjoy the performance?
     No

-       Why?

I didn’t understand the play.

-       That’s your fault.

Why is it my fault?

-       You didn’t get it because you’re not smart enough.  You’re not smart enough for this play.  Many, many people have gotten this play but many, many other people have not gotten it and those people were stupid and the people who did get it are smart.  I’m sorry you’re not smart, but a theater cannot base what shows it does on what stupid people would like to see.

Well if you’re going to talk to me like that then I won’t come back here.

-       Good.  That last thing we need is a stupid audience.

I’m not just an audience member, I’m also a donor.

-       Oh.

In fact I work for [Name of Wealthy Business That Gives the Theater a Lot of Money] and my father is [Some Guy Who Plays Golf a Lot, Hates Television, and Has a Wife Half His Age].

-       Well then, we should never have done this show and we will never do anything like it again.  We will find the playwright and kill him and everyone in his family.  We apologize sincerely.

This is what it felt like

This is what it felt like

Whenever we’d have to do these…

(Great, big sigh.)

Audience

Engagements

Where we’d mingle

And chat

And get feedback

From the audience

If they were just Regular Joe and Jane Audience Member

Tell them you appreciate their support

But that their input can’t always be integrated

Into what they see onstage

If they’re a donor or someone who could be a donor

Then you have to kiss their ass

And report everything they say

Back to the business office

Who will report it to the artistic office and the Board

Where it will be taken under serious consideration

In some ways, people who think theater is all politics

Are correct

In this way, it is entirely like politics

And just as frustrating

And for us, the acting company

We wonder

Well, I guess we wonder

Why we don’t have a say

Or why our say is met with ‘Fucking actors’

‘Fucking actors with their opinions’

Our opinions somehow mean less

Than those

Who ‘see theater occasionally’

And ‘did it once in high school’

And love quality programming

Like what they see on—Brace yourselves—television

And by television

I mean shows where somebody finds a body at the top of the hour

And discovers it was the stepfather

By the end of the hour

These people

Have valued opinions

But more than that

They have

Checkbooks

So they speak

And we listen

And they give us

Their checks

And if they don’t

Fuck ‘em

They don’t know anything

And if everybody in the audience

Starts to look the same

Like one big breathing blur?

If you see them that way

Then congratulations—

You’re one of the lucky ones