I, Who Have Nothing

Week 84: Los Angeles, CA

I recently finished reading Julie Powell's charming book, "Julie and Julia," which is based upon the blog she kept during the year she undertook to execute all of the recipes in Julia Child's seminal cookbook, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking."
I am eager to see the movie, which stars Meryl Streep and Amy Adams and opens next month. In her book, Powell expresses vividly the anxiety she felt whenever she had to post her blog and had nothing to write and had not done a recipe she could share with her readers, whom she affectionately termed "bleaders." She felt such a responsibility to show up and give her devotees something to read, and was filled with dread whenever she felt she might disappoint. It is with the same trepidation that I come to my computer this week with a feeling that I have nothing of interest to share. So, mea culpa, dear reader. I didn't do a whole lot of interest here in LA this week; I didn't visit Graumann's Chinese Theatre, or scale the Hollywood sign, or take a tour of star's homes in Beverly Hills. So truly, I don't know what I will write this week but I promised to show up, so here I am!

Truth is, I have been feeling somewhat stressed out this past week. LA is one of the two major markets for actors in the US, and arguably the one where the most money and fame are to be mined for those lucky enough to "break in." And I suppose I have been feeling a bit at sea as to how I can make inroads into the industry here, being a theatre actor, a total outsider, and a visitor for only nine weeks. It has filled me with more than a little anxiety. Add to that stress the fact that driving in LA turns me into a person I don't recognize and don't like at all. This person has a curse vocabulary that would make a sailor blush, and a hair trigger middle finger on both hands. He's an angry, angry guy. I think if I have remained somewhat youthful looking and have kept my blood pressure at a reasonable level all these years, it's because I didn't drive until a few months ago! So much time is wasted sitting in traffic here in LA, and dodging disaster right and left because LA drivers are complete MORONS. The worst sin of the LA driver is the sudden changing of lanes without signaling. It is beyond maddening! How freaking difficult is it to signal??! So stress has been mounting within me and the only release I have found has been escaping to the beach.

This week, I drove out to Venice Beach twice.
This famous stretch of sand has been called "Muscle Beach" because of the longtime enclave of bodybuilders who used to work out on the beach, not to mention the legions of surfers who come out to ride the swells. When I first went to Venice on my day off this week, I was mildly crestfallen. I am not sure what I expected: Steve Reeves doing a posing routine, or Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello doing the watusi? It's a pleasant long expanse of beach, punctuated by several long raised piers that one can walk out on to enjoy the view. It's a real family beach in a sort of ticky tacky beachside community and relatively easy to get to--i.e., it takes only 45 minutes in traffic as opposed to the hour it takes to get out to Malibu. Soaking up the rays and enjoying a brisk dip in the Pacific have been a source of relief and peace this week.

I did enjoy one special outing this week. Several of us got up early Friday morning and went out to the Hollywood Bowl, where the cast of a concert version of "Guys and Dolls" was doing its final dress rehearsal before giving three performances for audiences that could top out at 17,000 people a night this weekend.
This legendary outdoor amphitheater is nestled into a concave hillside with a view of the Hollywood sign visible beyond its beautiful concentric white arches. "Guys and Dolls," performed in its entirety with the lush, magnificent accompaniment of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, stars veterans of Broadway such as Brian Stokes Mitchell, Ellen Greene, Ken Page and Ruth Williamson, as well as stars of TV and film, including Scott Bakula, Beau Bridges and Jessica Biel (a film starlet who tries her best but whose thin soprano simply can't do justice to the role of Sarah Brown). What a treat it was to sit out in the brilliant sunshine and be treated to a free performance by these gifted performers of one of the most glorious scores ever created for Broadway. Frank Loesser wrote a string of extraordinary hits--each song a gem--in this masterpiece, and I found myself choking up several times, not just from the brilliance of the score, but from a painful feeling of ennui that we may never again have a Broadway musical full of actual SONGS. Songs that stand on their own, that put the emphasis on memorable melodies and smart and moving lyrics, that further the story and yet provide the audience with transcendent unforgettable moments. I tried to imagine what it must have been like to be in the audience at the opening night performance of "Guys and Dolls." I am quite sure that everyone who saw the show that night left with a new handful of favorite and memorable songs. And those songs have stood the test of time. I very much fear that the age of the true Broadway musical comedy is forever gone. Thank goodness we have classics like this one to remind us of what this American art form can really be at it's magical best.

Well, friends, I guess I had something to write after all! Thanks for tuning in for this, my 100th post since starting this blog in the fall of 2007. Next week will mark another milestone as I give my 600th performance as Sir Robin. More from Hollywood then.