Night of the Iguana

The theater almost closed—again
The year Enrico took over

I don’t know where they found him

Some war-torn country
In Eastern Europe or something

But the man was out of his mind
And not in the fun way
We were all used to
With Beau

To be an Artistic Director
You have to be crazy
That goes without saying
But there are all sorts of crazy

Beau was crazy and productive
And Enrico?

Enrico was crazy crazy

The year he ran the Orpheus
I had people walk up to me on the street
And tell me that I was a whore for participating
In the desecration of such a beautiful theater

I wasn’t used to hearing that sort of thing
Especially not from a priest

Everything came to a head
When we did The Night of the Iguana
Which is kooky enough on its own
Let alone when you sick a misogynistic tyrant on it

That was the show that went down in history
As the only time people walked out
During the ‘this is where the exits are’ speech

Closing night—people actually booed at us

Booed at us

I couldn’t…

You know, we joke about it
But it…

You know, you do theater to be liked
To be loved, maybe, whatever
You know, maybe not all of us
But some of us
Most of us
A lot of us do it for that reason
Whether we admit it or not

So to be booed at
To be called names
To have our audiences
Who, when you do regional theater
When you’re in a company of actors
The audience is like your family
They’re an extension
Of the company

To have them say they’re ashamed of you?
Of your work?

When all you’re doing is your job
And they don’t understand that
They don’t get that it’s your job
To do what this crazy European man
Is telling you to do

You feel like saying—

Could you go into work tomorrow
And tell your boss how things should be done?

No

So we were whores

Enrico used to scream at us
In his awful fucking accent

‘What do you care what people think?
Care what I think
Me!’

And finally one day I said—

‘Enrico, I don’t have a husband
Or kids
Or friends
Or anybody
But them

The audience

That’s all I have
That and what they think of me

So don’t tell me
Not to care
When they’re telling me I suck
And you’re up in your office
Thinking of other ways
To fuck up perfectly good plays’

Needless to say
I wasn’t with the company for too much longer
After that

I thought maybe I’d be invited back
When the next AD came in
But once you’re gone, you’re gone
Right or wrong, one of the other actors used to say

One AD never goes back and fixes a mistake
The last AD made
Not when it comes to firing actors

So I was gone
For good

But at least nobody was calling me a whore
That was nice

Did I keep doing theater?

Well…no

I found that I really didn’t have the skin for it
You know, that thick…whatever

I just didn’t have it

It hurt too much

Maybe it sounds weak or sad or—to say it, but—it did

When they didn’t like you
It just hurt too damn much