Family and Spamily

Week 50: Boston, MA

If you are paying attention, each successive year will make you more intimately acquainted with your flaws--the blind spots, the recurring habits of thought that may be genetic or may be environmental, but that will almost certainly worsen with time, as surely as the hitch in your walk turns to pain in your hip.
--Barack Obama, "The Audacity of Hope"

There is a feeling of full circle about returning to Boston at this juncture of my “Spamalot” journey. We were last here in January, shortly after I began the tour. I arrived here with a strong sense of the prodigal son returning to his home town, a magical snowstorm frosting the city in sugary white. Many cities and several hundred performances later, we are back for a week’s engagement at the Colonial Theatre. This week I have had the joy of spending quality time with my Mom, and of wandering the streets of this city where I spent much of my childhood, my college years as a young drama student, and several years as a working adult. With the present uncertainty as to whether or not I will be asked to continue on with the tour beyond this first year, the comforting energy of a place that feels like home is so very welcome.

Yes, as of this writing, I have not yet been invited to stay on with the tour beyond my first contract. I have certainly been asked over the past few months if I would want to continue, and have always answered in the affirmative. But there are many factors that go into the decisions that are made in regard to a large production like this, and while it is an excruciating time of uncertainty for me, the powers that be will make whatever decision is best in their judgement for the future of the tour. I am confident in the contribution I have made to the production, am gratified by the approbation I have received from the creative team, the press, and our audiences, and am proud of my work. However, I tend to be a somewhat high strung individual and while I wait on pins and needles for that extension offer, I have been a nervous wreck and I am quite sure, a pain to be around.

This brings me to an aspect of tour life that I have not yet touched upon in this blog, that of the group dynamic. Most people have experienced a workplace of some kind or another--an office environment, a busy restaurant, a manufacturing shop. Thrown together with an assortment of different personalities from diverse backgrounds, one has to make one's way, get along with everyone, and, hopefully find a few chums one can share a personal conversation with or, at least, lunch. But regardless of the interpersonal dynamics,in the "real world" most people go home at night and leave those other workers at work. In a touring show, one spends a great deal more time with one's coworkers, traveling from place to place, rehearsing and performing, and socializing in strange places where what counts as "going home" from work is returning to a hotel room. Naturally, the chances of getting on each other's nerves are increased exponentially by all this interaction, and sometimes emotions run high for various reasons--homesickness, fatigue, plain old grumpiness, ennui. I will say this about the "Spamalot" company--it is a fine group of people who get along, and often, genuinely enjoy hanging out together. The "Spamily" has built in some group activities into the touring life, including company birthday celebrations, bar crawls to celebrate both the comings and goings of cast and crew members, and our Saturday night tradition of "shot night." It is, by and large, an affable, generous, good humored group of people.

Belonging to groups has always been a peculiar challenge for me. Without turning this blog--which I realize has largely become a travelogue--into a therapy session, I will say that as a child I was a bit of an outcast.
Precocious, asthmatic, creative, moody, I was picked on relentlessly from a very early age. I learned to be self-sufficient, to enjoy solitary pleasures, and to believe in myself despite the rejection of my peers. But along with these survival skills, scar tissue formed--fear of rejection, a feeling of being an outsider, an impulse to overcompensate to make people like me. The theatre is full of misfits of all kinds and I have always felt it my proper home--where I can truly be myself and give of the natural gifts I feel I possess--of creativity, sharing, and joy through performing. Still, with each new company I join, there is always that nagging feeling that I am a misfit among misfits, still trying to fit in and somehow only managing to find a real connection with a small handful of people who "get me." Now, the "Spamalot" company are fun people. They love to party, to do group activities; there are football confidence pools, organized games of "whirlyball" (a group sport that is sort of lacrosse played in bumper cars--I am not kidding), and movie premiere outings.
Not all of these activities are my cup of tea; but then my movie nights of popcorn, cocktails and Bette Davis, or my Tarot card readings, or my museum trips are not every one's idea of fun either. There are some company members I have never had a real conversation with; others have become good friends. I am not for everyone; I am perhaps an acquired taste--I wear my heart on my sleeve, I express my emotions too freely, I have a wicked temper which I generally keep under wraps but which can rear it's ugly head from time to time, usually with me shooting my mouth off inappropriately. I have difficulty being inauthentic, and sometimes show business requires that one put on a happy face, even if the business is full of rejection, judgment, heartache. I have often said that I am perfectly suited to the work of the theatre but temperamentally unsuited to the business, which can be duplicitous, dehumanizing and just plain nasty. I have been a little hard to live with this past week, but I am hopeful that the "Spamily" in their good natured way, will find their way to forgive me and cut me a little slack during a trying time. As I said, our little moving workplace can be claustrophobic at times. Perhaps I can smooth things over with the "shot night" I am hosting this week. Always one for a theme, my shot this week is a "Boston Cream Pie," consisting of equal parts Godiva liqueur, vanilla vodka, and Irish cream. God, I do have a sweet tooth.

Adding to the tension this week was a much anticipated visit by the director of "Spamalot," Mike Nichols.
I am sure I don't need to introduce Mr. Nichols to you. His career has spanned every area of the profession--theatre, television, film--his legendary comedy career with partner Elaine May, his direction of great films like "The Graduate," "The Birdcage," "Angels in America;" he is one of a handful of artists to have received every major entertainment award--the Oscar, Emmy, Tony, Golden Globe. His helming of "Spamalot" led to a flurry of Tony Awards for the production, including Best Musical. He is, at the risk of using a cliche, a living legend. He saw the tour in performance for the first time in almost two years this week in Boston, and gathered us all together afterward to give us his notes on our work. Obviously, everyone was very nervous, especially those of us who he had never seen before and who never received his direction from his own lips. Like most replacement actors, I learned my show from a dance captain and a stage manager and over the past year have received sporadic notes and coaching from our assistant director, whose job it is to interpret Mr. Nichols' directorial intentions and maintain the show to his specifications. To call Mr. Nichols' note session with us brutal would not be overstating things. He praised the company, and our talent and abilities, but he showed us a lot of tough love in that session--as he called it, he "beat us up a bit." But even though our egos were bruised by his comments, his intention was clear--to make sure that we don't fall into habitual patterns and technical tricks, but make it our business to keep the show simple, truthful and connected to real human experiences, even within the context of the absurd situations and technically perfected musical numbers. It's a tall order, but an opportunity for each of us to reach within as actors and bring more to what we do for the good of the piece, even after some of us have done over 1000 shows. This is the essence and the challenge of being a live performer--repeating the same tasks over and over again while managing to keep it fresh, true and real. Sometimes we all need a kick in the ass, and Mr. Nichols gave us a swift one, masterfully.

During this rather high pressure week, I have been given the blessing of spending time with my Mom, my biggest and most loving supporter, who I had not seen since our last stop in Boston in January. Her belief in me and the sheer joy that we share in each other's company is priceless and we had a lovely week, enjoying some nice meals and a stroll around the Museum of Fine Arts, reveling in the treasure trove of masterpieces that this world class museum offers.
We visited our favorite Impressionist works like Renoir's "Dance at Bourgival;" the dreamy Victorian love scene "The Painter's Honeymoon" by Lord Frederick Leighton; we had the pleasure of wandering into a special exhibit of the great portrait photographer Yousef Karsh, who captured the faces of some of the greatest people of the 20th century, from Picasso, to Churchill, to Einstein, to Audrey Hepburn.

Marvelous. I am deeply grateful for these treasured times I get to spend, however infrequently, with my Mom. She is a great human being, a wonderful artist, and my soul's friend. She inspires me and encourages me and reminds me that, no matter what mistakes I make or challenges I face, that I do what I do out of love and a desire to be the best artist and person I can be. I love you, Mom.




We are performing at the historic Colonial Theatre, where the "Spamalot" tour launched in 2006.
This jewel box of a theatre is also where I saw all of my first Broadway shows, including a touring company of "Annie" in the late 70s. I was maybe 12 years old and all the kids on stage were my age--I sat there in my nose bleed seat, dazzled and hungry to join them up there, dreaming of that day I might be in a Broadway musical. During the finale of our show one evening this week I looked out at that gold encrusted auditorium and thought, oh my God. I did it. I got my dream. I am up here performing a Broadway musical. How many people can say they have had a moment as ineffable and as magical as that? No matter what happens in terms of my future with this particular tour, I can be exceedingly grateful for my adventure thus far and the extraordinary achievement of a childhood dream. Life can be so humbling.

Remember Beverly?
She was my dresser at the Opera House the last time we were in Boston, and it is so nice to work with her again. She has a lovely energy and that fantastic Boston accent that makes me feel so at home. Beverly has the distinction of being the first dresser to make a return appearance in my blog. Thanks Bev! More from the city of my birth, Pittsburgh, PA, next week, friends.