James Beaman's Blog

At Liberty

2009-10-20T19:55:00.005-04:00

Does anyone realize life as they live it, every, every minute?
--Thornton Wilder, "Our Town"

Week 96: New York, NY

And so, I am back where I started. Next Monday, on my 44th birthday, I can celebrate the two year anniversary of the offer to do "Spamalot," and rejoice that I had such an incredible journey with the show. I wish I had words to express the extraordinary and transformative experience that this has been for me. I guess my blog, which chronicles the whole thing, must speak to that. Our final shows were triumphant, celebratory. The very last show was inspirational. Each and every member of the company gave their all; a full 100% performance. The energy as the company performed the "Camelot" number was so enthusiastic and so high as to take one's breath away. I felt, and feel, so proud to be a member of that wonderful company. At curtain call on our final night, John O'Hurley came out for his bow with his beautiful little boy, Will, in tow. If I wasn't already choked up, that pretty much did me in. I cried and sang "Bright Side" and drank in the applause and energy of the ecstatic audience while the confetti fluttered down upon us all like a benediction. Truly, it was one of the most joyous moments of my career, and I felt such a sense of accomplishment. If we can just engage, fully, in the beautiful moments of our lives, big and small, we can go to our graves saying that we indeed lived.

We had our final party together at a local restaurant in Costa Mesa and a good time was had by all. Richard Chamberlain, that kind and gentle man, drove down from LA to spend our final night with us. People dressed up in all their finery and enjoyed a last drink together. It was a bittersweet occasion, but all of us have shared a moment like that, because all of us are in the theatre and know that our glories are transitory and all good things must end sometime. I can honestly say that with one exceptional circumstance, I finished the tour feeling very proud of all that I had accomplished, and secure in the common respect and appreciation that I had come to share with my coworkers. The exception involved a misunderstanding between me and two of my fellow actors, and I can only say that what seemed like a terribly negative circumstance proved to be a blessing. You see, friends, while we all adopt each other as family, for support and a sense of security as we travel and work together, the truth is that real friendship is not dependent on a shared job or a lucrative and fun-filled tour. True friendship is about acceptance, unconditional love, and forgiveness. To have discovered that none of these qualities ever existed between me and these particular people I mentioned is not a cause for mourning, but rather, it is an opportunity to reaffirm my own values and ideals and a chance to understand the truth of my experience. One sour note in the midst of this celebration of life and creativity did nothing to diminish my pride and gratitude for all that "Spamalot" brought to my life. While Spam may be a cheap substitute for more sophisticated meats, "Spamily" has proven to be, in some ways, a cheap substitute for family. But there are people I will take with me and cherish as friends for years to come.

And so, with rosy memories intact, and rose colored glasses cast off, I face the next chapter of my life and career. "Spamalot" was such a big forward step in my work as an actor that it is somewhat scary to stand here at the precipice and wonder what might be next for me. All I can do is continue to believe in my talent, to strive to be excellent at what I do and to bring joy and happiness with it to as many people as possible; to have faith that the work will come and that my life will continue to deepen and expand. My agent is hard at work sending off my resume for various jobs, and I will strut my stuff at auditions and offer myself up for that next great opportunity. Such is the life of an actor. But on a personal level, I will continue to challenge myself to be more than I am while learning to accept, forgive and embrace all that I am. We can only, finally, do our best. We stumble, we fall, we get back up again; sometimes we rise to great heights and it is in those moments that we are most humbled by the incredible gift we have been given--to do our best, and to share it with others. I thank all of you who have followed my journey on this tour, for your unwavering positivity, support and enthusiasm. They have been a great strength to me, for which I am eternally grateful. No doubt, at some time in the near future, I will continue to write. As soon as I have embarked on my next creative journey. For now, friends, stay in touch, embrace those you love, look for the beauty wherever you go, and always, look on the bright side of life.

Off comes the make up
Off comes the clown's disguise
The curtain's fallin'
The music softly dies.

But I hope you're smilin'
As you're filin' out the door
As they say in this biz
That's all there is... there isn't anymore.

We've shared a moment
And as the moment ends
I've got a funny feelin'
We're parting now as friends.

Your cheers and laughter will linger after
They've torn down these dusty walls
If I had this to do again
And the evening were new again
I would spend it with you again
But now the curtain falls.

Your cheers and laughter will linger after
They've torn down these dusty walls
People say I was made for this
Nothin' else would I trade for this
And just think I get paid for this...

"Goodnight ladies and gentlemen and God love you, thank you."

--"The Curtain Falls," Sol Weinstein (written for Bobby Darin)

The Show That Ends Like This

2009-10-16T10:00:00.001-04:00

Week 95: Costa Mesa, CA

Nothing is forever in the theatre. Whatever it is, it flares up, burns hot, and then it's gone.
--Joe Mankiewicz, "All About Eve"

22 Months.
62 Cities.
676 Performances.

For me, the journey that started with an offer of work, on my birthday, in October 2007, comes almost completely full circle this week. It was a journey of firsts in many respects: my first national tour, my first principal role on a contract of this level, my first time visiting many of the cities on our tour. On a personal level, the journey was transformative. I mourned and moved beyond the breakup of a long term relationship, I overcame many fears, including my fear of driving, and got my first driver's license. I learned about myself by broadening my experience through travel; I met and befriended some wonderful people along the way, some of whom I met simply through this blog and my website. I achieved some long dreamt of goals, buried some demons, and lived some dreams. My journey was as much an internal one as an external; as I moved about North America performing, I found my way into my own heart and mind and deepened my sense of spirituality. I discovered that the work that I love to do is not just for my own fulfillment and joy. What I do enables me to collaborate with other artists, thus helping facilitate their dreams too; it touches the minds and hearts of the people in the audience and can even be a source of inspiration for aspiring young artists who might be out there looking up at the stage and wishing that wish to be a part of it all. There have been dark moments over the past twenty years of my career, moments when I honestly thought of throwing in the towel--too many rejections, too much struggle. Touring with "Spamalot" has renewed my faith--in myself, in the power of dreams, and in the doing of something that brings pleasure and happiness to hundreds of thousands of people. I thank you, dear readers, for not only taking the ride with me, but for constantly touching me with your generosity and encouragement. Many of you have asked me if I will continue blogging beyond this, and I can only say that I would love to continue writing, and just have to decide what the focus of a new blog would be. If you would like to be on my email list to receive updates on anything that I might get up to in the future, please send me an email at james@jamesbeaman.com.

I rented a car for a couple days this week in order to see something of the area, and despite some inclement weather I had a nice drive. I visited Laguna Beach, a longtime seaside resort and artist's enclave, first. Walked on the beach with my Starbucks latte, visited some art galleries and home decor shops. The town had that feeling of a seasonal community off season--a little sleepy, many businesses closed, and a few intrepid visitors braving the overcast skies and drizzle to stroll the quiet streets.
From there I drove to San Juan Capistrano, to visit the mission there. This historic Catholic mission was founded in 1776 by Spanish missionaries who came to convert the Native Americans of the region to Catholicism. The stone church and grounds of the mission were badly damaged by an earthquake in the early 19th century, but the ruins, gardens, the Mission Basilica (a lovely cathedral with a glorious gold altarpiece) and the oldest building in California still in use, the enchanting Father Serra's Chapel, make for a beautiful historic site well worth a visit.
The gardens are fragrant with roses and lush with olive trees, and the old 18th century chapel was a beautiful place for some quiet prayer and contemplation. Of course San Juan Capistrano is most famous for the annual migration of cliff swallows which are fabled to return on St. Joseph's Day, March 19, every year. Those of you who know "Spamalot" know that we spend a bit of time arguing the migratory habits of African versus European swallows in the show! So it was fun to be in a town that is famous for the little birds and even has a Swallow Festival every year. There's even a song made famous by Glenn Miller's orchestra, "When the Swallows Come Back to Capistrano:"

All the mission bells will ring
The chapel choir will sing
The happiness you bring will live in my memory
When the swallows come back to Capistrano
That's the day I pray that you'll come back to me...

Monday night, our hair and makeup department supervisor, Mitchell, threw an early Halloween fete called "The Hell Party." He hosted the soiree with his cohort, one of our gorgeous ensemble ladies, Paula, at their place in Huntington Beach. A nice cross section of the cast and crew rose to the occasion and showed up in some outrageous costumes. We had a group of girls dressed as a hot dog, a ketchup bottle, mustard bottle and a beer; we had Red Riding Hood, a sexy female cop leading a corrupt umpire around in handcuffs, not one but two Middle Eastern suicide bombers, and numerous ghosts, vampires, and other spooky creatures.
As you know, if you ever googled me or read my website, I had a brief career as a female impersonator, but have not appeared in drag (with the exception of a great production of "La Cage Aux Folles" a few years ago) in almost a decade. Mitchell has been after me to get done up, and I figured a Halloween party was a great excuse. So I attended the Hell Party as the legendary tragic Greek heroine, Medea. To me I looked like a Spanish soap star, but the Grecian gown and two dead baby dolls hanging from my belt like a trophy told their own story! It was a really fun and festive evening and a most welcome infusion of jollity and laughs during our last week. That's me with Mitchell, who seems about to take a bite out of Medea!

Since I have introduced you to all of my dressers on this tour, I thought it appropriate during this last week to introduce a special lady without whom I could not have become Robin eight shows a week. Here, with me at the Hell Party, is the lovely Suzanne. Suzanne hails from Tyler, Texas and she has the accent and sassy cowgirl attitude too. She is a very talented hair and makeup pro, who got her start in theatre doing wigs for the LA Opera. Since then she has toured with several Broadway shows including "The Producers" and "Les Miserables." Suzanne has been a good friend to me over these many months, and we have shared confidences and laughs and great times. I will miss her very much--she not only was the only one who made Robin look just right, but she also gave me amazing haircuts! I know Suzanne is looking forward very much to going home to the beautiful country house she built and spending time with her Mom, who lives with her in Texas. I wish her all the best of everything for the future, and I hope we will get to work together again soon.

I will be doing one final blog post next week in order to encapsulate our final weekend of shows, our finale, and my return to New York. So tune in next week for that. All that remains this week is to introduce you to my final dresser on "Spamalot," Julie.
Julie left an exciting career as a paralegal many years ago to do the work of the theatre. Imagine that! She is a seasoned pro and has worked every show that has come through the area. Her confident, no nonsense attitude has been most welcome during these last weeks. With the show coming to an end, I am reminded of my very first dresser, Lyn, who got me through those first weeks of performances in Washington, D.C. back at Christmas time in 2007. It was Lyn's gentleness, thoughtfulness and kindness to me that inspired my tradition of sharing my dressers with you all. I am so grateful to all the lovely ladies who have taken care of me and Sir Robin as we have traveled North America. Best wishes to you all!

It is a surreal thing to watch this production wind itself up. During this week there has been a gradual diaspora as another few performers, including our beloved dance captain Graham and his wife Cara, have left us early. We received signed posters from Eric Idle and John DuPrez as parting gifts, and have come in to work each night to another farewell letter on the callboard from the producers, or general managers, or a former performer or assistant who worked on the tour. The company's personal trunks have been packed and shipped off to their homes. Saddest moment this week was perhaps receiving our final paychecks! That is one thing I will definitely miss! It has been a challenge this week to stay positive and not give in to the feelings of anxiety that come up about being out of work, having to return to the hectic world of auditions and networking back home, and the realization that my life will profoundly change after almost two years of constant performing and traveling. But change is the only constant, as they say. To close this week, I am reminded of a parable that I read recently that I think is very wise on the subject of change (see below). At the time of this posting, we have five more shows to do. One final post next week from New York City, friends.

There once was a king who was going to put to death many people, but before doing so he offered a challenge. If any of them could come up with something which would make him happy when he was sad, and sad when he was happy, he would spare their lives.

All night the wise men meditated on the matter.

In the morning they brought the king a ring. The king said that he did not see how the ring would serve to make him happy when he was sad and sad when he was happy.

The wise men pointed to the inscription. When the king read it, he was so delighted that he spared them all.

And the inscription? "This too shall pass."

--Ram Dass, "Journey of Awakening"

The O.C.

2009-10-10T01:42:00.000-04:00

Week 94: Costa Mesa, CA

There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.
--Shakespeare

Before I launch into this week's blog about our second to last week of performances, I thought I would take some time to just talk a little about my week off in New York. New York is a pressure cooker. The proximity in which human beings coexist with each other makes for an intense energy.
This swirling vortex of energy--much of it frantic, stressed, anxious--can be a challenge to resist getting swept into. This particular layoff was tinged with a different vibe for me, because I was seeing the city through the eyes of an actor about to be (temporarily) out of work, and really feeling the enormity of the adventure I have been on and the distance it has put between me and life in New York. Consequently I had a few days of simply collapsing and hiding out in my apartment. It is easy to become overwhelmed. There is also a pervasive sense of anxiety and tension around the economy and money for people in New York--I know that in these times this is an all-pervasive state of mind, but in the city, it seems to be intensified. I truly believe that our lives show up for us as a result of our predominant patterns of thinking. If your habitual thoughts are angry, or self-pitying, hopeless, fearful, your life reflects that back at you. I believe that our current economic situation in this country is being exacerbated by a collective and dominant pattern of negative and fearful thinking. We can choose to buy into it, dwelling on negative headlines and news reports, complaining about things, talking ourselves out of spending money on things we want or need. Or we can look in a different direction, affirming abundance in our lives by practicing gratitude for what we have, by reaching out and supporting other people in feeling empowered and capable, and by having faith in ourselves that we can have the life we dream of and are committed to creating.

"Spamalot" was only a beginning for me; a wonderful step in the right direction. All creative projects come to an end, and inevitably the process begins of finding a new project, a new source of expression, and a new opportunity.
People talk a lot about luck in my business--they point to successful actors making big salaries and chalk it up to a fluke, to being "in the right place at the right time," to some sort of whimsical wheel of fortune that happened to push that person into the lap of success. I prefer to believe that those who reach what we would call success do so because they have faith in themselves, they don't listen to the negative opinions of others, and they persist. Against all odds, against the evidence of the limitation of the present moment (again, everything is temporary), they KNOW that they will be successful and they focus on giving through their work, and of experiencing the joy which is the most satisfying part of being a performer. I suppose, having returned for a week to New York, and having had the wind sort of knocked out of me by it, I am returning to the place where my beliefs are strongest and my determination the most grounded. I think all of us must find ways to untangle the negative knots we can get into mentally, and reach for that which feels the best, which reminds us of how fortunate we are, and which sustains us through times of uncertainty. And learn to be compassionate and gentle with ourselves so that we may be that way for others. Even in the crazy, unrelenting vortex of Manhattan living.

Posh Costa Mesa is a luxurious and fitting final stop for the tour. The place absolutely reeks of money and fine living. Immaculately planned, maintained, manicured and gleaming, this suburban Southern California city gives one a glimpse of how the other 1% of the population are living! BMWs, Mercedes, Jaguars glide silently along palm lined streets reflected in the mirrored glass of modern buildings.
I am staying at an elegant Wyndham Hotel directly across from the elaborate Orange County Performing Arts Center. This complex is comprised of a gorgeous concert hall designed by Cesar Pelli (with an undulating facade sheathed in a skin of transparent glass), a restaurant, the Tony winning South Coast Repertory Theatre, and our venue this week, Segerstrom Hall. Henry Segerstrom, the $40,000,000 donor and primary patron of the Center, is one of the owners of nearby South Coast Plaza, one of the most expensive and lucrative shopping malls in the US. Among the 322 shops in this marble and brass palace of materialism, every major designer is represented-- from Gucci and Pucci to Versace and Prada. The mall grosses a billion dollars every year, further evidence of the affluence of the Orange County region. It's a bit of a tease for this group of about-to-be-unemployed performers to be nestled amidst so many tempting shops and fine restaurants! We do have access this week to a splendid spa across the street, which has all the amenities and luxuries one could wish for in a health club. So I'm treating these last weeks as a sort of working vacation.

This week we had to say farewell to our fearless leader, Ken Davis. Ken is our production stage manager, overseeing all aspects of our production, both on stage and behind the scenes. He has been with the tour since its inception and throughout the nearly four years "Spamalot" has been on the road. As things sometimes play out in this business, Ken landed another job which happens to conflict with our last weeks here in Costa Mesa, so unfortunately he won't be here to finish what he started. We will definitely miss sharing the final shows with Ken. Over the past 22 months that I have been with the tour, I have come to really appreciate Ken's humor, his support of all members of the company, and in particular, his support for what I have brought to the show. He got choked up at our farewell party for him, as he paid tribute to the real family feeling between all members of the cast, crew and management team. And he's right. It's a special group, and no doubt Ken's leadership contributed to that camaraderie. Happy trails, Ken!

I have been going in to work every night this week with a sense of joy and gratitude. From signing in at the stage door, to
all my back stage rituals of preparing for the show-- greeting the crew, slapping on my makeup, warming up--to savoring each and every moment of performing, I have been reminded over and over how very fortunate I am to have had this dream come true. To be a part of this show, to have the privilege of working as an actor, is something I have never taken for granted. And I still have goosebump moments out there when I look around me on stage, or feel the energy of the thousands of people out front, or am jazzed up by the sound of the orchestra pumping out this delightful score, and I feel like I need to pinch myself. What a blessing. One more week to go, friends. Next week, I plan to drive around the area a bit and see some of the beauty of the SoCal coastline, and we have some company events and parties that I am sure you will find amusing. Until then...

Arid, Extra Dry

2009-09-24T01:00:00.000-04:00

Week 92: Tucson, AZ

Within 24 hours of arriving in Tucson, my lips were chapped, my nose bloody, and my skin peeling. The conditions here are so dry, that, in spite of 100 degree temperatures, your sweat evaporates before it has a chance to cool your body. The dryness is also, of course, terrible for a singer's voice, and I have had to drink multiple liters of water a day just to keep things lubricated. Such is the desert climate. However, I admit to a little enjoyment that we spent the first official days of autumn in a place that is eternally summer. It won't be until I return to New York for the layoff next week that I will really get that "back to school" feeling, and the reality that I must take up my life in that city of cities will truly sink in.

I think everyone has come to grips with the reality that our tour will be ending soon, and all eyes are on the horizon. Most of our crew and management team have already lined up work for themselves, many joining existing tours, others launching new ones. Some will return to working in shops and for the locals in their home cities. As for the performers, a fortunate few have jobs lined up already; others are beginning the audition process and the search for the next opportunity. Some have decided to relocate to LA from New York, others are going to take their first stab at living the New York City dream. Still others have bought, or are about to buy, new homes and are happily, if nervously, engaged in the process of becoming first time home owners. Some are just looking forward to a much needed break and are squirreling away their money to cover their monthly expenses while they rest, rejuvenate, and plan to spend the holidays with family. As for me, I plan to return to my apartment in New York and furnish it pretty much from the ground up, finally creating the little haven I have been visualizing while out here on the road. Armed with my new head shots and resumes, and charged with newfound confidence and a clear vision of where I see my career heading in the next few years, I plan to insinuate myself back into Manhattan and start that next adventure.

But back to Tucson. I am fortunate this week that I am in a nice hotel with a lovely outdoor pool and hot tub, just a short walk from the Tucson Music Hall, where we are performing. I am sort of treating this as one of those rest weeks, catching some rays and in general just getting myself slowly organized for the busy week in New York next week.
On Wednesday, I decided to walk into town and do the Presidio Trail, a walking tour throughout the downtown core, marked by a turquoise line painted along the sidewalk. This trail takes you through the historic neighborhoods and past the significant landmarks and historic sites throughout Tucson. I enjoyed strolling through the older barrios, or neighborhoods, in town, distinguished by square adobe buildings, some painted in cheerful shades of lemon, red, turquoise, violet. Some of the places that I found most interesting included El Tiradito ("The Castaway"), a small shrine at the side of the road which has had significance for the Mexican community for generations. Legend has it that a violent love triangle in the 1870's resulted in the murder of a woman's lover by her jealous husband, and when the murdered man was refused burial in consecrated ground this shrine was created to pray for the man's soul. Three historic theatres can be found on the Presidio Trail, among them Teatro Carmen, established in 1915 as a venue for dramatic works in Spanish (now an Elks Lodge); The Temple of Music and Art, a Spanish Colonial Revival building with a charming courtyard, built in 1927 as a concert hall and now home to the Arizona Theatre Company; and the Fox Theatre, one of those great vaudeville and movie palaces from the 1920's. The theatre fell on hard times in the middle of the last century and was closed for 30 years until a recent renovation restored it to its former Art Deco glory. I persuaded a box office worker to give me a little private tour and I greatly enjoyed seeing this old gem of a theatre in such gleaming, beautiful condition. The ceiling boasts an elaborate mural with classic art deco motifs, all done in rich Southwest colors of mustard, terra cotta and turquoise; the seats and seat cushions are exact reproductions of the original designs, and the original frosted glass wall sconces and chandeliers have been preserved. The Fox hosts concert and theatrical events as well as what looks like a fantastic classic movie series. So glad I got to see it. Fortified by some terrific fish tacos from a great little Mom and Pop taqueria , I completed my nearly three mile hike around Tucson in front of the gorgeous St. Augustine Cathedral. Built in 1897, it is a serenely beautiful example of Spanish Colonial Revival architecture which is currently undergoing a spectacular restoration. Unfortunately I was not able to go inside to view the cathedral due to the work being done there. Tucson is a very interesting mix of cultures--Spanish, Mexican, and Native American. The little pockets of history coexist with the structures and trappings of a 21st century city in an intriguing harmony.

Here's Renee, my Tucson dresser.
Renee has a very interesting story. Originally from Maryland, she spent much of her life in San Francisco where she worked as an environmentalist and animal rights activist. Having grown up in a multi-generational household, Renee was very close to her grandfather, and since he and her parents relocated to Arizona, she followed so that she and her daughter might enjoy the time to be with her beloved grandfather. She has done theatre all along the way and her husband also works back stage, and is on our show as a dresser. Renee has a nice, balanced energy about her which is a welcome compliment to the general feeling of centeredness and calm I am experiencing this week in Tucson. Trick is to carry this feeling into my layoff week in New York! No post next week folks, so I will catch up with you at the end of our first week in Costa Mesa, to share with you the final stretch of this amazing adventure.

All in the Family

2009-09-18T10:00:00.002-04:00

Week 91: San Jose, CA

You may recall, from my San Francisco posts, that I have family in San Jose. My brother Alex, who has worked for Apple for many years, and his wife Patricia have raised their family here in the Silicon Valley. They have become a part of a great community of people, many who come from Alex's workplace, others who have become friends through Patricia's work as a doula, assisting births. They have three terrific kids--Ben, 17, a senior in high school and a talented musician and water polo champion; Zoe, 14, a straight-A student and a budding actress; and Isobel, 12, also a precocious performer and creative writer with a firecracker of a personality. Because these relatives live cross country from me, and because we all get caught up in our own busy lives, I have not had much opportunity before now to really get to know them all as a family. This week I made up for lost time by staying with them in their home in San Jose.

It has been such a delight to get better acquainted with these intelligent, articulate, motivated and well behaved kids. But the real joy for me has been in witnessing my brother and his wife perform their roles as parents so wonderfully. They are passionately and devotedly involved in their children's lives; encouraging them, nurturing them, applying pressure where needed, but always with a sense of fairness and with love. Watching my brother come in from a long day at work and sit down immediately to assist Zoe with math homework, or proudly show me video of Ben playing water polo--it's hard to describe the feelings I have knowing that of all of Alex's great achievements, his greatest is as a terrific father. I am very proud of him, and I think he has one hell of a great family. I have also enjoyed being the visiting actor uncle, and had the pleasure of coaching Zoe on her very first Shakespeare monologue--Juliet's balcony speech--and of visiting Isobel's drama class at her middle school. I love speaking to kids, especially young actors.
Even though I grew up in a theatrical family, I still received a great deal of discouragement and negativity from teachers and people in the business when I was coming up as a fledgling artist. And I feel like that kind of talk is cheap. What kids need is encouragement. Sure, they have to know that they are contemplating a highly competitive career, with a great deal of rejection and potential for heartbreak. But more than that, they need to know that if they believe in themselves and they persist, they will have opportunities to do what they love. I warned Isobel's teachers that I love the sound of my own voice and will go on and on and ON, but they let me go, and I filled a 50 minute class with my "words of wisdom." Mostly I told these bright eyed, expectant kids to believe in themselves, to take good care of their bodies (no smoking, no drugs), and to find ways to be well rounded and have a full life--nurturing not only their artistic aspirations, but their relationships with friends and family--and cultivating many interests, developing other talents and abilities. I got a real charge out of being able to be an inspiration to them. It reminded me that when I was 12 or 13, I was just like them--stage struck and hungry to live out my dream. Come to discover, I STILL AM.

San Jose, the tenth largest city in the U.S., and the capital of high tech Silicon Valley, is really a very attractive and rapidly developing fine city. The downtown area is attractive and modern, with beautifully designed pedestrian malls, a plethora of restaurants, a state of the art light rail system, and sleek office buildings and upscale hotels. In addition to our venue this week, the San Jose Performing Arts Center, there are other performance venues, including the San Jose Rep, where I had the pleasure of auditioning this week. I also stopped in for a visit to the San Jose Museum of Art. The "historic wing" of the museum is a beautiful Romanesque revival building from the late 19th century, an historic landmark which once served as the San Jose post office and then a library; the "new wing," a slick modern space, was added to the museum in 1991 and the contrast of the two architectural statements is striking. Interestingly, the current main exhibit of contemporary art focused mostly on artist's statements about our abuse of the environment, of the dehumanizing effect of the proliferation of technology, and on corruption in our political institutions. A thought provoking collection of art for a city that owes its existence to the success of high tech corporations. In addition, there was a nice exhibit of Alexander Calder, encompassing his paintings, his jewelry and his famous mobiles; and again, there was our old friend Ansel Adams--this time in a small but striking exhibition of his very early work as a landscape photographer.

Since we were so close to San Francisco this week, I stole a day and drove up there to get a last shot in the arm of that great city's energy and beauty, before I return in a few weeks to the east coast. I got to meet a couple of my new friends and catch up, and then drive around the city again, from Twin Peaks through the Castro and Golden Gate Park, to Lincoln Park, where I stopped at the Palace of the Legion of Honor. This is one of the great museums of San Francisco that I didn't get to visit during our engagement there, and I am so glad I had the chance to see it this week. The museum is perhaps best known for its splendid collection of Rodin bronzes, marbles and plaster sculptures; indeed, one of his most famous pieces, The Thinker, greets you as you enter the building. The collection is exquisite, and beautifully laid out so one may pass with ease from gallery to gallery representing all periods of European Art, with representative works from many of the finest old masters, from Rembrandt to Rubens, and the great Impressionists, from Monet to Degas.
My favorite pieces were perhaps the most theatrical ones (surprise, surprise). These included Thalia, Muse of Comedy, , by the 18th century court artist Jean-Marc Nattier, a playful female nude draped in satin and paying winking homage to the theatre with the mask she bears; and an extraordinary canvas by Spanish artist Jose Jimenez Y Aranda from 1879, Holy Week in Seville. This gorgeous, almost photographic depiction of an 18th century public square full of interesting characters is a fascinating slice of life, brilliantly rendered. I had such a nice visit to San Francisco, all too brief, but it was great to see the fog drift across the Golden Gate Bridge and reconnect with the recent memories of the wonderful time I spent there this year.

I connected with another San Francisco friend when I found out that Lorraine, my dresser from the Golden Gate Theatre, was to be working with me for the week here in San Jose.
Several of our wardrobe workers from that engagement have joined us here and they are all such terrific people. It really was nice to see Lorraine again and of course, a great bonus for me to have a seasoned pro who knows my show assisting me. Thanks, Lorraine! And so it is with regret that I leave Alex, Patricia, Ben, Zoe and Isobel, not knowing when we will next see each other, but confident that we now share a closer connection. It's a great gift to have such people in my family and in my life. Three more performance weeks of "Spamalot" to go, folks, hard as that may be to believe. Tucson, AZ is next for us before a week of layoff and the final push in Costa Mesa, CA. More from Tucson next week. Meanwhile, if you have a brother or sister you haven't called in a while, pick up the phone. You'll be glad you did.

By the Sea, By the Sea, By the Beautiful Sea

2009-09-12T09:00:00.002-04:00

Week 90: San Diego, CA

After our lengthy "sit-downs" in San Francisco and LA, I had become unaccustomed to our typical way of life on the road, i.e., one week in every city. So when we arrived in San Diego and I checked into another hotel and unpacked my bag for my week's stay, it was something of a shock to the system. However, this city and it's many splendors helped ease the way. San Diego has been rated one of the top five wealthiest cities in the U.S., and one of its most livable. The weather is perfect--sort of an unusually warm spring day every day--and the city abounds with cultural life, tourist attractions, natural wonders, and successful businesses. On my first afternoon here, Labor Day, I wandered around the downtown area, marveling at the eclectic mix of architecture--from historic 19th century structures in the bustling Gas Lamp District, to Spanish inspired buildings of stucco and terra cotta tile, to vintage art deco wonders like the Balboa Theatre, to ultra modern high rises--and eventually found myself at San Diego Bay. Seaport Village, which adjoins the imposing Convention Center, is an eccentric hodgepodge of touristy shops and restaurants clustered around the edges of a beautiful park and waterfront walk. On this holiday afternoon, the place was hopping with activity--families enjoying the sunshine, street musicians playing. A nice introduction to this fine city.

On Tuesday I hopped on the bus and made the short trip to Balboa Park, one of the great features of San Diego. This massive park encompasses the world famous San Diego Zoo, ten fascinating museums, numerous gardens, a fabulous botanical building, and the Tony-winning Old Globe Theatre.
The look and feel of today's Balboa Park is owed to the architectural genius of Bertram Goodhue, who designed the arcaded walks and ornate Spanish Revival buildings for the 1915 Panama-California Exposition. It's an incredible treasure, this park, and is one of the premier attractions of San Diego. Before you ask, no, I didn't go to the zoo. I find zoos very sad. I know they are educational and I know they are an opportunity for children and adults alike to see animals they'd otherwise never see up close. But giraffes and zebras should be running through the sierras of Africa, not roaming about a pen. Just my personal feeling. Besides, there is just so much one can do with one day in Balboa Park, and being an art nut, I made a beeline for the San Diego Museum of Art. It's a concise jewel of a collection, with an emphasis on Renaissance art, much of which was endowed by Amy and Anne R. Putnam. There are wonderful devotional works by Renaissance masters like Giotto and Fra Angelico. There are also great pieces of Spanish art, a focus of the museum due to the region's rich Spanish heritage. These include masterpieces by El Greco, Goya, and the haunting Penitent Magdalen by Murillo.
On the Italian Baroque side, I was most struck by the David with the Head of Goliath by Massimo Stanzione, a Neopolitan artist who was strongly influenced by Caravaggio and others of his school including Artemisia Gentileschi, but who studied the work of classicists like Guido Reni. In this sense, his work combines the realism and chiaroscuro of Caravaggio and a mannerist lyricism of the style that came after him. Perhaps my favorite piece in the museum was Blue Eyed Boy by Modigliani, an absolutely classic example of this artist's elongated, whimsical style.

Across the way from the SDMA is the Timkin Museum, housing a very small but delightful collection of European works, including a Rembrandt, a Rubens, and a glorious crucifixion by Veronese. The museum was also hosting a special exhibit of Russian religious icons. From there I wandered over to the Old Globe. For a classical actor like me, there are a handful of Shakespearean theatres that represent the finest in classical English speaking theatre; among these are Shakespeare's Globe in London, Oregon Shakespeare Festival, and the Stratford Festival in Canada.
The Old Globe is among these hallowed theatres, and not only produces classic plays, but has originated many successful musicals which have had Broadway success, inlcuding "Avenue Q" and "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels." Standing in front of the beautiful buildings--a replica of Shakespeare's Elizabethan playhouse and two other great spaces,--I felt that frisson of excitement and longing I always feel in such places. I still have a strong ambition to play the great roles and to play them at the finest classical theatres. I hope someday to work at Old Globe, but on Tuesday, they were loading in a show so I couldn't even get a peep at the stage! Ah well. From there, I went to the Museum of Photographic Arts, which was hosting a retrospective of the work of legendary landscape photographer Ansel Adams. Here again were those silvery, majestic images that celebrate the natural wonders of America. Alongside this exhibit was one dedicated to the work of Jo Whaley, "Theatre of Insects." Whaley was a scenic artist who turned to art photography, and she has a fascination with insects--beetles, butterflies. She takes these colorful creatures and places them in miniature theatrical settings, producing richly detailed and highly evocative tableaux. I was a real fan of this show.

On Wednesday, I had an audition for a director who runs a theatre in one of the coastal towns north of San Diego, so I drove out there and back, enjoying the gorgeous scenery along coastal route 101, and the interesting, affluent communities that dot the shoreline. Del Mar seems to have chosen Shakespeare's hometown of Stratford-upon-Avon as the model for it's community's look--strange, faux Tudor buildings and squares occupied by blonde surfer types. Odd. La Jolla is a very wealthy enclave which encompasses UC San Diego, and another fine regional theatre, the La Jolla Playhouse.

Thursday, I kept my rental car so I could hit the beach. This is an incredible area of the country, and the beaches are some of the best. I took myself out to Torrey Pines, and the Torrey Pines State Beach, a portion of which is known as Black's Beach. This glorious, unspoiled, vast expanse of beach lies at the foot of dizzyingly steep cliffs. To reach the sand, one has to make one's way along a winding, crumbling, terrifying trail down the cliffside (and then scale its exhausting length on the way back up!)--however, the trek is worth it. The beach is incredible, the water the perfect temperature, the atmosphere serene. My only regret is that I didn't bring my camera to capture some of the beauty of the place--however, Black's is a nude beach and I am quite sure my picture taking would not be taken to kindly!

Friday, I had a mission. I got up early and caught a water taxi over to Coronado Island, which lies across San Diego Bay. This charming community was built in the late 19th century by rich industrialists as an elite resort town. It is not much more than a mile across from bayside to oceanside, and is a lovely, small town America sort of place (with palm trees). The jewel in the crown of Coronado is the historic Hotel Del Coronado, affectionately known here as "The Del."
This great old beach hotel from 1888 was my destination because of it's famous appearance as the location of the "Florida" sequences in the classic Billy Wilder comedy, "Some Like It Hot," one of my all time favorites. And while the hotel has seen an expansion over the years, to include a spa, multiple pools, retail shops, restaurants, and some rather ugly additional guest bungalows, it still retains its familiar silhouette. More frissons of recognition and excitement as I stood on the beach where Marilyn, Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon romped 50 years ago this year. In fact, next weekend Tony Curtis will be the guest of honor at a special weekend celebration at the hotel commemorating the film. I played the Jack Lemmon part of 'Jerry' several years ago in the musical version, "Sugar," and it is a role I very much hope to play again. I strolled down Orange Avenue from The Del back toward the bayside area and ferry dock and stopped on the way at the Coronado Historical Association to enjoy a charming exhibit of the work and life of L. Frank Baum, author of the "Oz" books. Baum was a guest for many years at the Hotel Del Coronado and also owned a vacation home on Coronado Island which he shared with his family. The exhibit had some terrific old photos and artifacts, and some pristine first editions of "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" and other of Baum's classic children's works. It was a nice added treat to an all around lovely day. Next time you find yourself in San Diego, don't miss the chance to visit nearby Coronado.

Phew! What a week! And while I must admit I am looking forward to going back to New York and being again home and in one place, I was reminded this week in this wonderful city of how fortunate I have been to be able to explore our great country. San Diego and environs is a terrific place and I am so glad I got a nice taste of it's many splendors.
Now to introduce you to Judy, my San Diego dresser. Judy got into the costume and wardrobe business through the design and construction end of things, and she is still a costume designer for both theatre, and interestingly, the circus! She and I had a great chat about San Francisco, a city she lived in for a long time and has great affection for--something we have in common. She has done a great job this week, so, many thanks Judy! Monday we return to the bay area, for a week in San Jose. For me it will be a family visit, as I will be staying with my brother, his wife and kids, whom you have all met before on this blog. More from there next weekend, folks!

Say Goodbye To Hollywood

2009-09-03T23:00:00.000-04:00

Week 89: Los Angeles, CA

It's somehow symbolic of Hollywood that Tara was just a facade, with no rooms inside.
--David O. Selznick

We had two celebrity visitations last weekend, from two ends of the show biz spectrum. On Saturday night, Miss June Lockhart, who you may remember as the mom on "Lost in Space," came back stage. In her eighties and still lovely, Miss Lockhart was so gracious and so enthusiastic about the show. She won all our hearts. On Sunday afternoon, Placido Domingo came by and saw the first half of our matinee. He came back stage at intermission to congratulate us, and was warm and charming (especially to the show girls!). Mr. Domingo is the director of the LA Opera and is of course, one of the greatest tenors who has ever lived. Wonderful to meet him.

Our LA run is winding down, but the houses have been consistently full, and the audiences rapturous. It is a rather odd time to be here, as the wildfires continue to blaze in the surrounding area, with no sign of abatement. It is rather like being in Pompeii and waiting for the lava to ooze into town. Nevertheless, everyone gets on with business as usual in Hollywood, even if the air is sooty and the heat unbearable. I have truly enjoyed my personal routine here: my gorgeous condo sublet, my little rental car, my gym and amazing yoga teacher (who I will dearly miss). I've accomplished so much here, from becoming a competent driver, to gaining valuable exposure to the business through my performances in the show, and some few positive meetings, to getting my new and wonderful head shots (see image above). Things are starting to buzz in New York, with some interesting projects to audition for and new ground to gain after the tour ends. Despite my enjoyment of LA, I am excited to be returning to New York in a few weeks' time.

Those of you who follow my blog and also are fans of the tour and touring cast might be interested in a copy of a terrific book of photographs put together by our stage manager, Francesca Russell. It's called "Travels on the Bright Side" and is a chronicle of Francesca's journey with the "Spamalot" tour. She's got a great eye and there are terrific back stage candids and wonderful scenic shots from the various cities we visited. For more information or to order the book visit: http://tiny.cc/6sLm6 .

It's time to introduce you to Loretta, my wonderful LA dresser.
Boy, Jeff Dumas and I lucked out, when Loretta was assigned to us. Not only is she a consummate pro and absolutely fantastic at her job, but she is a genuinely fun person to be around. Loretta has dressed some great actors (including our beloved Richard Chamberlain) and has toured with shows as well. She is an enthusiastic crossword puzzle solver, a delightful conversationalist and has given me great tips of things to do and see and eat in the area. In short, we love Loretta, and will miss her!

A friend from college who I had not seen in over twenty years came to the show. We reconnected at the stage door and talked a little about LA. She said to me, "Do not move here. It is a hellpit and will devour your soul." Obviously she has her own story to tell about life in Hollywood, and no one who lives in a major show business town walks away unscathed. I told her, don't worry, there are many things I like about LA. The weather. The beaches. The less stressful interpersonal environment. But I hate the drivers. And the traffic. And the drivers. And the parking fees. And oh, did I mention the drivers? USE YOUR @#&%!! DIRECTIONAL SIGNAL, @#&%!! MORON! Ultimately, give me Manhattan. She is a harsh mistress but at least I understand her now. Another of the blessings of travel. You learn to appreciate HOME. Next week, San Diego.

The Hustle

2009-08-28T16:00:00.001-04:00

Week 88: Los Angeles, CA

Show business is really 90 per cent luck and 10 per cent being able to handle it when it gets offered to you.
--Tommy Steele

So, several of you have written inquiring about what I may be doing after "Spamalot" comes to a close, and the short answer is, I don't know yet. I also received a question about the business, and how actors go about drumming up work for themselves. So I thought it might be of interest if I write this week about some of that stuff. Hollywood is definitely a place where actors have to be adept at packaging, marketing and selling their product--themselves. It is a very different sort of a mill here, however, compared to New York. In New York, actors literally pound the pavement in their search for work. In L.A., the dance is different. I've learned quite a lot in my time here in Los Angeles and look forward to applying what I have learned to my own shuffle-ball-step.

Okay, so the basic process of the work search can't even be accomplished without a good agent. Your agent knows your abilities and your "type", has a good sense of your body of work, really appreciates your talent and knows what opportunities to pursue on your behalf. My agent is on the lookout for specific roles for me in projects under development. He has access to the industry "breakdowns" which are basically job listings sent out primarily to agents. But your agent can also help you, as mine has, get in and meet artistic directors of theatre companies, or to do a sort of general interview with casting directors, who can tell just from a half hour conversation with you how personable you are and what sort of roles you'd play. I have had a couple such meetings in LA--and this is something I have not encountered in New York. In New York, you meet a casting director when auditioning for a specific part; in LA, because so often your casting is based upon your personality and look, casting directors will invite you in for a "general," which really amounts to a pleasant conversation in their office.

Once I've been submitted to the casting director (the casting director works for the producer and director of a particular project, gathering a pool of actors for consideration), and I am invited to audition, then I receive material to study and rehearse for presentation at my audition. These short fragments of scenes from the play or film, or original song material, are called "sides." I study my sides, I learn whatever I need to learn, and then I go to my acting coach to try out my audition and get some feedback. The day of my audition, I show up at the appointed time and perform my few minute's material for the casting director, sometimes the director and producers of the piece. If they like what they see, they request that I return for a callback audition. This is another look at your stuff because they have selected you for final consideration amongst a field of several actors in the running. Everyone gives their best shot at it, and within a week or so someone receives an offer. Then salary and other specifics are settled via the agent, and contracts are signed. I expect to be doing all of these things myself very soon (especially the "getting the offer" part)!

Actors have to make large investments in themselves and their work search, because we are essentially freelance workers. This means subscribing to trade publications and websites that publish industry news and audition information; maintaining skills through class work or private acting coaching or singing training; and putting together really good head shots and resumes. The head shot is a photo of the actor which, with a performance resume attached to the back, is sent to casting people as a sort of introduction or "calling card" for the actor. Often the opportunity to be seen for a part depends on a favorable response to the photo, so these shots are of utmost importance. This week, I went in and had my head shots taken by a very fine LA photographer, John Ganun, who is also an actor and has a very impressive resume of Broadway musical theatre credits. John and I discussed the types of roles I might be appropriate for in film, in TV and commercials, as well as theatre, and then we chose "looks" which reflected these types. Once I have made my selections from the hundreds of frames that John took, I will take the few chosen shots, have retouching done if necessary, and then have them professionally reproduced. I can also send head shots and resumes via email, which is the way it's being done more and more these days. So, you can see that the process of searching for work can be an arduous and expensive one. Most people in most types of work interview for a job maybe once every few years, if that. We can sometimes "interview" a half dozen times a week, or more! Why do we do it? We love the work. I am reminded of a scene in the wonderful film The Red Shoes, in which the ballet impresario asks the ballerina, 'Why do you want to dance?' to which she replies, 'Why do you want to live?". His response is, 'Because I must," to which she says, 'That is my answer too.' Anyway, in the coming weeks, I will post one of my new head shots so you can see what we came up with.

The end of this week turned suddenly beastly hot. The heat has been so extreme and the weather so dry that brush fires have started up in various areas around LA. This is not uncommon, but it makes for dehydrating conditions and filthy air quality. So, instead of my planned visit to the beach, I decided an indoor activity was in order for Friday, and I made a visit to LACMA, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Every great city should have a great art museum and LACMA is a sprawling campus of seven buildings, a sculpture garden (containing some famous and wonderful Rodin bronzes), a theatre, and a Japanese pavilion. I went specifically to see "Pompeii and the Roman Villa," an exhibition of art and antiquities unearthed at the sites of Pompeii and Herculaneum, which were buried when Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 A.D. The communities surrounding the Bay of Naples were enclaves for the rich and aristocratic in ancient Roman society; a sort of resort getaway for the elite of the time--similar to fashionable seaside resorts like Bath was in 18th Century England, or perhaps as Laguna Beach is today for the Hollywood crowd. In fact, as I strolled through the exhibition I was struck by the similarities to the lifestyles of the rich and famous of ancient Rome to those of modern day LA millionaires.
Lavish villas by the sea with extensive gardens and elaborate pools and fountains were the playgrounds of the Roman elite, and the excavations of these lost cities reveal a high level artistry and skill in the fashioning of marble sculptures, bronze fountains and adornments, silver implements and golden jewelry. The Romans, who had conquered Greece, nevertheless had a passion for Greek art, theatre and philosophy and this is reflected in the kinds of artistic expressions they chose when decorating their sumptuous abodes. Really beautiful exhibit. My favorite part was a gallery of artworks from the 18th century to the present which in one way or another pay homage to the world of ancient Pompeii. Most delightful were the photographs of Eleanor Antin-- monumental, richly colorful tableaux designed to mimic paintings with classical subject matter--but full of anachronism and witty commentary. Really fun stuff.

I wandered through as much of the museum as I could handle in one afternoon. It's a huge institution, and, like the Met in New York, is really a place best enjoyed over two or more visits. I passed through the European art collection, of course, checking out what they had for Renaissance and Italian Baroque works; the selection was small but there was a fine portrait by Titian and a few large pieces by Veronese. The modern art collections were far more extensive, with a whole gallery dedicated to Giacometti sculptures, with their long, thin, nubbly figures; there were also a great many Picassos and fine works representing all schools of modern art.
My favorite piece of the day, I think, was Rene Magritte's The Treachery of Images (This is not a pipe), which is a simple statement about the illusory and representational nature of art. It really made me chuckle. Which I think, thematically, brings us full circle on this blog post. The actors job, as well as the artist's, is to represent, reflect, and replicate life. But the actor also has the task of honing and projecting his own image in a way that will make him attractive and sellable to potential employers. The resume and head shot and a few minutes in an audition room can only give the smallest snapshot of the complexity and dimensionality of the person, the artist. The trick is to find a way to make the biggest and most positive impact in the shortest amount of time, with the hope that it will be enough to lead to a great job. Keeping one's feet on the ground, one's eyes on the horizon, and one's dream close to one's heart can help make the craziness of the quest for work much less excruciating! And so, friends, next week will be my last post from LA. More next weekend.

Crossroads

2009-08-21T00:00:00.000-04:00

Week 87: Los Angeles, CA

Once again, I come to my computer without a clue what to write. This isn't really like me, but it has been something of a quiet, introspective week. I have become very fond of my now familiar routine here in L.A., and have not diverted from it much at all. I get up, make a smoothie, hit the gym or a yoga class, run errands, take care of the odd bit of business, make some dinner, and drive downtown for the show. My day off this week was blissfully serene. A close friend from grad school, who is renting a little bungalow in Malibu, went away for a few days and left her key under the mat for me. The secluded place is tucked away amongst lush tropical plants on a stepped hill rising just above the beach. The shuttered windows open out to a panoramic view of the Pacific, and the steady roar of the surf, moving in and out, like breathing, fills the otherwise silent little space. I bought a bottle of wine, some fresh peaches, and a few other odds and ends to nibble on, and spent the day in this hideaway, reading, contemplating, napping, walking the beach, soaking up the sun, and just being quiet. It was a welcome retreat, and an opportunity to survey the horizon, both literally and figuratively.

Life is full of crossroads. And for the actor, this feeling of transition always accompanies the ending of a project. What will my next job be? When will it come? What do I do until that next opportunity presents itself? "Spamalot" has been a transformative experience for me in so many ways. It has been by far the most significant job I have had as an actor, the best paying, the highest profile.
I have grown and grown up on this tour---learning about our country, meeting people from all walks of life, pushing myself to explore unfamiliar territory both in my travels throughout North America and in my inner understanding of where I have come from and where I have arrived as a human being. I have overcome some long held fears--my fear of driving, of being completely on my own and responsible for my well being and my success; I've learned to trust myself more, to be able to create and coexist with other people without needing their approval or validation. I've started to discover what real freedom is--freedom to explore, to welcome abundance into my experience, to take chances, to be strong in my convictions and my determination to bring light and joy into the lives of others through the words I speak, the thoughts I think, and the work I create. From this extraordinary place of expansion, I found, as I sat on the breezy sands of Malibu and watched the sun set, that I don't have to know just now what my next chapter will be. I know that as long as I stay in a place of hopeful expectation and pure intention, the creative work, the financial freedom and the personal satisfaction will continue to permeate my life and take me to unthought-of new levels of experience and happiness. And the best part is, that I still have eight more weeks of going out on stage with this show and making people laugh and forget their troubles. What a gift that is.

My inner thoughts this week have also been taken up with really looking around me and sorting out how I feel about Los Angeles. It's impossible to do this, of course, without comparing the experience of being here with that of being in New York. The two places could not be more different.
The landscape of LA is all freeways, beaches, sun drenched neighborhoods full of brilliant flowers and foliage; the lifestyle is an easy one, in which people can pursue their own agendas and schedules without really bumping into anyone else (except of course, in the maddening maelstrom of the absurd traffic that one finds oneself in daily). The energy here is laid back, almost detached, but the consistently glorious weather seems to keep people on an even emotional keel. New York is a landscape of concrete and glass and steel, of soot and noise, constant movement, hustle and bustle. It is impossible not to be continually colliding with other people, as everyone pushes and scrambles to make something happen, get something done, be someone and accomplish something.
The high energy of that place can be exasperating, suffocating; but it can also be exhilarating, addictive. There's so much to see, so much to do, and the diversity of cultures and personalities of this great human experiment can make for a rich and stimulating existence. My feeling about both cities is that one needs to have a purpose in putting down even temporary roots in either place. These are cities where things are getting done, where people are trying to create exciting, lucrative careers and make something of themselves. As such, they are demanding environments, can be very expensive and can ask much of those who take on the challenges of life in the big city. I must say I am seduced by the fluidity of the LA lifestyle, the proximity to beaches and other natural environments of great beauty, all only a brief drive away; the knowledge that oodles of money are being made in the film and television industry for those lucky enough to break in, and the reassurance that when one wakes up each morning chances are it will be another sunny, beautiful day just like the last. New York has it's own siren call--the astonishing cultural life of the city, with art, fashion, theatre in abundance; the style of the place, the beauty of the architecture, the changes of season--crisp walks through Central Park ablaze with autumn foliage; bustling along crowded, snowy avenues in the last days before Christmas; children jumping about in the gushing streams from open fire hydrants on hot, muggy Manhattan summer afternoons. The fact that one can walk almost anywhere one needs to go, if one has the will and a good, sturdy pair of boots. Of course, both LA and New York are places best enjoyed, I suppose, by the wealthy. These cities, for those fortunate enough to have luxurious incomes, are very different places--places full of beautifully appointed homes, fabulous restaurants, shopping excursions--comforts that take the sting out of the freeway tangles or the dirty sidewalks teeming with life.

Have I drawn any conclusions? No, and I think that's okay. I interviewed with a casting director this week and she asked me where I saw my career going next. I told her I felt like I had unfinished business in New York, some long cherished goals to reach in my work as a stage actor. I told her I was excited to try my hand at film and television work; to see what my niche might be in the lucrative realm of commercials. My goal has always been to make a solid living as an actor and to do that I feel that I have to diversify my avenues of opportunity. But these many months of travel have also taught me that I can adapt to new places and new experiences. Whether the work and the joyful, abundant lifestyle I want to live keep me at home in Manhattan, bring me back to LA, or make it possible for me to jaunt back and forth cross country, I am open to what is best for me and for my creative future. When we allow ourselves to just relax and be open to all sorts of opportunities that will bring us the realization of our dreams, there is great comfort in knowing that we are limitless. Geography is just geography; each of us has our own unique path. The trick is to believe in your dreams and to stay open to the possibilities.

You Used To Be Big...

2009-08-14T08:00:00.001-04:00

I AM big. It's the pictures that got small.
--Norma Desmond, "Sunset Boulevard"

Week 86: Los Angeles, CA

My week started with a rare Sunday night off and an opportunity to see the final LA performance of the "Fiddler on the Roof" tour.
I went because two friends are in the company, but the experience was far more exciting than I had anticipated. First, the theatre itself, the Pantages, is a legendary venue. Built in 1930 as a vaudeville theatre and movie palace, it is one of the most riotous and splendid art deco interiors I have ever seen. The building underwent a renovation in 2000, and the restoration of the gold, bronze and copper encrusted deco panels, statues and ornaments is breathtaking. It's like stepping into the world of the old silent film "Metropolis." This venerable auditorium was the site of the Academy Awards ceremonies from 1949-1959, and has been one of LA's premier venues for touring productions since the late 70s.

This production of "Fiddler on the Roof" is the farewell tour for Topol, the great Israeli actor who portrayed the starring role of Tevye in the wonderful film version of the musical, directed by Norman Jewison, in 1971.
Topol created the role in the London production (Zero Mostel was the original Tevye on Broadway) and over the years has performed the part over 2,500 times. So much for my crowing about reaching 600! The excitement and energy in the packed, mostly Jewish audience on Sunday night could be compared to that of a rock concert audience--an excitement generated by both the feeling of pride Jews have about "Fiddler," which has become such a part of Jewish cultural life, and also the respect and admiration they have for Topol. And this wonderful actor did not disappoint. In fact, it was a brilliant, vivid, powerful performance every bit as splendid as his film performance 28 years ago. At almost 75, Topol is nimble, rich-voiced; his comic timing and ability completely undiminished, relaxed and in command. In short, I got to witness a star performance of the kind that we rarely ever see anymore. I liken it to seeing someone like Richard Kiley do "Man of La Mancha," or Yul Brynner do "King and I" (neither of whom I ever got to see, alas), and I feel privileged to have been in that audience, clapping along with him, cheering for him, and secretly, praying that someday I am granted as rich and glorious a role that I can put my personal stamp on. All in all, the production was terrific, and I urge you to see it if it comes to your town. The theatre has so few real stars left; don't miss your chance to see Topol.

Before the show, I had some time to kill so I took a stroll up and down Hollywood Boulevard and its legendary walk of fame. Pink granite stars embedded in the sidewalk are emblazoned with the names of actors, actresses, radio personalities, musicians, directors, producers and other celebrated people whose contributions earned them a place on this elite walkway. Hollywood Boulevard itself is in transition. While lots of investment has been made in recent years to revitalize the area, including the Hollywood and Highland shopping center, the Kodak Theatre, and tourist attractions like Madame Tussaud's and Ripley's Believe It Or Not, there is still a seedy element. Grimy hot dog joints, tacky souvenir shops and sex emporiums abound, and the alleyways off the main drag reek of urine and are home to all manner of undesirable types. This gritty aspect of the street added a sort of pathos to my stroll, as I read the names of stars, coated in grime, that are largely forgotten today.
Names like Ramon Novarro, the Mexican actor who rivaled Valentino as the heart throb of silent films, who starred in the original "Ben-Hur", and who acted with Greta Garbo, Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford; or Sabu, the East Indian actor who won the hearts of America as the star of the great fantasy classic "The Thief of Baghdad" and who distinguished himself as an air force hero for the US in the Second World War; or even more obscure names like Slim Summerville, a gangly comedian who started in pictures as a "Keystone Kop" and played character roles in films like "All Quiet on the Western Front."
All of these stars were important enough and famous enough in their time to be granted a permanent star in the sidewalk firmament of Hollywood Boulevard. Yet most of the tourists and residents of LA that trudge across their names every day will never know who they were, never see a film they were in, never remember them. As Hollywood's perhaps most iconic star, Marilyn Monroe, once said: "Fame is fickle, and I know it." I think about my spine tingling experience of seeing the great Topol perform and I think, how many people even know who he is, this living, working actor--and how many will remember his magical contributions when he is gone? I guess it is up to those of us who cherish the work of these people (and theatre and old movie dorks like myself) to keep the flame alive in our memories of them. For we too, shall pass, someday. This is a keen and profound thing to contemplate, especially for an actor whose work has been mostly on the stage--no celluloid record of the things I have created exists, only the memories of those who have witnessed my efforts. We think of motion pictures as being somehow immortal, yet many have been forgotten, along with the artists whose passion and labor brought them into being, and countless old movies lie crumbling in dusty warehouses. Shakespeare wrote a great deal about the immortality of his poetry and how it would live forever--how could he have known that? And by declaring it, did he somehow will that immortality into being?

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o'er-sways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out
Against the wreckful siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

Continuing in this introspective vein, this week I have to say farewell to one of my favorite people and best friends on this tour. Tim Connell, one of our ensemble knights and my understudy, is departing the "Spamalot" tour to pursue the continuation of his education in New York.
Tim has decided to train to be a drama therapist and his talent and his unique sensitivity and compassion more than qualify him for the work. When I joined the tour, Tim was my first friend, reaching out to me at a time when I felt overwhelmed by the work and out of step with the company. Since then, we have forged a true friendship. He has been a confidante, a generous helpmate and someone I have shared much laughter and good times with. Tim was even my first driving teacher, giving of his time and patience to help me get over my driving phobia. Even with the tour coming to an end in a couple months, I will miss Timmy's positive energy and gentle spirit. I know that we will be friends for years to come. Happy trails, Tim, and best of luck in your new endeavors. More from Los Angeles next week.

600

2009-08-07T00:00:00.000-04:00

Week 85: Los Angeles, CA

When I embarked upon this journey, I never imagined that I would be reaching my 600th performance as Sir Robin, but here it is. I have been counting the shows in hundreds, but following this week I will only have another 70-odd performances, and nine performance weeks, to go. It truly is the final stretch. I don't feel blue about this, or anxious. I actually just feel proud--a real sense of accomplishment for not only the work I have done, but the growth I have achieved as a person in the past nearly 20 months. I am sure I will be reflecting a lot on this in the weeks to come. Truth is, the adventures continue. I am meeting so many fascinating new people, reconnecting with folks from all the different chapters of my life to date, and finding out new things about myself as I go along. LA is an education in many ways and has given me a new outlook in terms of what is possible for me as a working actor; a new sense that there are many more choices available to me than I had imagined.

I started the week with a relaxing day off in the Pacific Palisades/Malibu area. I took a nice drive to the Getty Villa first. The site of the Villa was purchased by J. Paul Getty in 1945 and served as the location of the original Getty Museum.
In 1968, Getty decided to build a reproduction of a 1st century Roman country house, the Villa dei Papiri, on this stunning property overlooking the Pacific in Malibu. It now houses Getty's magnificent collection of Greek and Roman antiquities, and has been expanded to incorporate not only the stunning villa, but a beautiful outdoor amphitheatre, a lovely cafe, and gorgeously landscaped grounds and formal gardens. The marbles, the mosaics, the olive groves and lush plantings of roses and exotic plants, and the collection itself--replete with magnificent specimens of ancient sculpture, gems and jewelry, and rare artifacts, all make for a feast for the senses. The featured exhibits during my visit included a special showing of a rare Etruscan bronze sculpture, the Chimaera of Arezzo, which once was the centerpiece of the Renaissance collection of the great Medici family; also a marvelous exhibition of golden artifacts unearthed relatively recently from an excavation of the graves of the nobility of the ancient kingdom of Colchis (which was the destination of Jason and the Argonauts in their quest for the golden fleece). The artistry and imagination of these ancient civilizations was the foundation for what we now think of as Western culture. I was especially delighted by the gallery dedicated to Dionysos and the great theatre tradition of ancient Greece.

From ancient relics to contemporary creations. On Thursday I took myself to the MOCA, or Museum of Contemporary Art, in downtown Los Angeles. The museum is currently running an exhibit of choice pieces from the permanent collection as well as recent acquisitions. I have to say that I feel that contemporary art is a mixed bag. It seems that creating something beautiful and aesthetically pleasing is old hat. Most of the very new pieces at MOCA seem to me to be more political or personal statements, many of them appropriating everyday objects and presenting them in an ironic fashion in order to amuse, shock, provoke thought,or simply provoke. Some of them are interesting, others startling, and some just rather juvenile and confrontational in a way that lacks thought or subtlety. Fortunately, amidst the crumpled pieces of foam rubber and upended commodes were some real masterpieces of modern and contemporary art. MOCA owns some wonderful early Lichtensteins and Warhols, showing the pop masters as they found their voices and before they polished up their styles; they have Jackson Pollock's first, revolutionary spatter canvas, Number One, from 1949; and for me, the most beautiful and exciting part of the current exhibition was a gallery full of canvases by Mark Rothko. Rothko is considered a pioneer of abstract expressionism in painting, although he himself rejected this classification. Like many modernist painters in his circle, he was inspired by primitive art and he felt that it all started with color. His mature works are large fields of color and light; rectangular blocks of contrasting hues that seems to bleed, glow, expand and deepen as you look at them. As much a fan of Baroque art as I am, I really love Rothko. His paintings seem to breathe and express a primal sense of emotional depth and a fascination with space.

And so, lest you think that LA is all red carpet events, botox injections and anorexic starlets, there is a real presence here of art and culture--and I am so glad I got a taste of it this week. My time here has also been enhanced by the reemergence of old friends and fellow students from college and grad school days who live here and have reconnected with me. It's been really great to see these people and learn about the great lives they have made for themselves out here. I hope you are enjoying the dog days of summer, wherever you are. Until next time.

I, Who Have Nothing

2009-07-31T13:00:00.002-04:00

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.

Malibu Robin

2009-07-25T00:00:00.000-04:00

Week 83: Los Angeles, CA

Beach life. I know it well. I grew up in coastal Massachusetts, north of Boston, and our house was a short walk to the beach, which meant summer pretty much revolved around sun, sea and sand. My affection for beach life was something I adopted from my Mom, and I always feel a very special aliveness by the sea.
One of the most attractive things about LA living is the proximity to great beaches, and Malibu is essentially a long strip of beach divided into public or exclusive private beaches--with a community around it. I took myself to Malibu on Monday, making the winding, snaking drive west on Sunset, then joining Pacific Coast Highway. I settled on Topanga Canyon Beach, because the fish restaurant I wanted to dine at later in the day was directly across the street. It was a good choice: a small, quiet, sparsely peopled stretch of sand. The weather here is perfection and frankly, if I lived here I would probably end up looking like a crocodile handbag. I just love soaking up sun and I must say I have quite a tan! Thank goodness my Robin gear covers pretty much everything except my face. My beach day was great--mellow, relaxing.

I had an early supper at The Reel Inn, one of those great roadside shanty style fish restaurants, with picnic tables and a menu scrawled on a chalk board.
I love places like these, and you know you are getting the freshest possible seafood. I had grilled swordfish, fried calamari, hand cut fries and homemade slaw. Again, it just takes me back to my youth. When I was a kid, after a long day of romping on the beach, we would all go home, shower off the sand, put on something clean and cool, and, with our hair still wet and our faces glowing from a day in the sun, head off for a fresh seafood dinner. There were fancy places, but the favorite was always Woodman's Eat 'Em in the Rough, a little shanty style place very much like the Reel Inn. I mentioned Woodman's in a previous blog post--they invented the fried clam. Anyway, for me, no beach day is truly complete without a fresh fish dinner.

After three weeks here in LA, I have started the inevitable conversation with myself about whether or not I could live here. I think this is a conversation every actor eventually engages in, because the two centers of show business in America are New York and LA. If you really want to make a stab at a career as an actor, you have to consider one or the other city. I never really thought much about moving to Hollywood, mainly because my primary focus has been live performance and making it as a stage actor. And I still have big ambitions for my stage career, particularly eventually working on Broadway, so I have made being in New York a priority. But there is a much larger world of opportunities for an actor in film, TV, commercials, voiceovers--and almost all of it pays better than theatre! I had the opportunity to meet with a top agent here this week and it got me thinking about what it might be like to try my hand at the LA scene.
The lifestyle here is worlds away from the hectic life of Manhattan, with it's frenetic pace, overcrowded sidewalks and long winters. The LA lifestyle is about sunny summer weather every day, endless driving and parking and sitting in traffic, and a feeling that the city is not really a city but more a sprawling series of disconnected areas and neighborhoods. There is something comfortingly contained about New York City--I can almost walk everywhere I want to go there. While I recognize this time in LA as a chance for me to improve my skills as a driver, I am pretty much fed up already with the delays, the horrible driving of most of the people around here (no one seems to know how to operate a directional signal!), and the endless search for a place to park. This week for example, I was supposed to meet friends on Friday night for a drink at a popular bar, and after twenty minutes of driving around searching, and with a determination not to pay outrageous fees for parking, valet or otherwise, I went home--with frustrated steam coming out my ears.

And LA is, like New York, a great city to live in when you have money and are gainfully employed in your profession. When you are out of work and scrounging for opportunities, I bet it isn't quite the glamorous life. And not only are there exorbitant rents to pay, but a car to pay for and maintain and fuel up. I think if I were established and had work here, I might get used to the weirdnesses of it all and come to enjoy LA. I certainly would love having access to the beach, but wouldn't I come to miss the New York seasons? As dirty and crowded and stressful as Manhattan can be, wouldn't I miss the relative ease of getting around on my own two feet, and the culture, restaurants and ethnic neighborhoods all within easy reach? The answer is, I would go where the work is. As I get older and more open minded about what is possible for me in my life, I come to see the possibilities of doing more than just theatre, much as I love it. I would really enjoy trying my hand at performing in front of the camera or the microphone, and finding ways to diversify my career and make a good living at it. I have come to admire John O'Hurley very much--he is committed to doing good work in theatre, but also has a great job as host of "Family Feud," does voices for ten different cartoon series, and has done spokesman work and commercials. He is living every actor's dream, which is making a living as a performer. Fame and stardom and all that is attractive but for me, the ultimate would be knowing that I never again have to go back to a "day job;" that I can in fact, make my living as an actor. Doing this tour has gotten me very used to being a working actor, and I want to pursue any avenue that might further me in that direction. Whether that be in New York, which has been home for over 15 years, or LA, I know that I will go where I have a chance of doing the work that I love. And while times may have changed since Shirley MacLaine went on as an understudy on Broadway and was discovered by film mogul Hal Wallis, or Lana Turner was spotted by a talent scout while sipping a soda on a stool at Schraft's drug store in Hollywood, all it takes is one influential person or one "right place at the right time" moment to turn the tide in an actor's career. "Spamalot" has started me in a great direction, and my "right place and right time" are surely coming my way. Keep the thought!

"Come On Down!"

2009-07-18T01:00:00.004-04:00

Week 82: Los Angeles, CA

This week was an apt continuation of my LA education--I got a real taste of the contradictions of this city, from the lowbrow to the highbrow. There is no doubt that this is an amazing, sprawling city; the weather is consistently perfect, the freeways consistently frustrating, and the range of things to do endless. I spent my Monday off on the beach soaking up the California sunshine and plunging into the turbulent, chilly Pacific waters. One of my favorite things to do at the end of a beach day is to clean up, put on something crisp and cool, and go out for a seafood dinner. A small group of us enjoyed a swanky meal at Mirabelle on the famous Sunset Strip. Classy.

Wednesday's adventure was far from classy, but it was a fun time nonetheless. Twenty-five members of the cast and crew of "Spamalot" went to a taping of "The Price is Right." To say it was a hoot would never come near to capturing the absurdity and hilarity of the day. We had to arrive en masse at 9AM, to begin the screening process, which included security processing, the distribution of those crazy yellow name tags shaped like price tags, and brief interviews during which one assumes the decisions were made as to who would be the lucky audience members called down to play the game.
Around lunchtime, we filed into the studio, which is far smaller than it appears on TV, with the most garish and tacky set I have ever seen. The spectacle that is "The Price is Right," is, to me, a little snapshot of the essence of American culture. It is a paean to materialism surrounded by chaser lights; a chance for a whole bunch of ordinary folks to put themselves out there for the lucky chance of doing what Americans want most in life--getting something for nothing. And the inordinate glee and excitement that people can summon up over a set of flatware, or a catamaran, or a bedroom set, is nothing short of ludicrous. The taping was the loudest thing I have ever experienced--shrieking, shouting, cheering, applauding ad nauseum. I'm not saying I didn't have fun--it was really quite fun to watch. I was delighted not to get called up; one of our showgirls, Vanessa, got to compete, although she didn't win any major prizes. The nicest surprise of the whole thing was observing the host, Drew Carey, who is one of the nicest, most genuine, down to earth guys I have ever seen. He went out of his way to show interest in the audience members, to take the time to sign autographs and to fill the breaks in taping with very funny banter and amusing stories. I came away understanding why Carey has made such a success for himself; he's immensely likable. By the way, if you have a yen to catch a glimpse of the "Spamalot" group in the audience of "The Price is Right," our segment airs October 21.

Thursday, a good friend from college, who was out here on a family vacation, invited me to lunch. And to my delight, it turned out to be a Jewish soul food lunch! While Jewish delicacies were hard to find in San Francisco, here in Hollywood one need look no further than Fairfax Avenue, where there are numerous Jewish shops, bakeries and restaurants.
The great granddaddy of the food emporiums is Canter's, an absolutely fabulous slice of old world authentic Jewish deli, which was started in New Jersey in the 1920's, then transplanted to Los Angeles in 1931, where it has been serving up matzoh ball soup, corned beef, and other delicacies for generations. Just the smell of the bakery as you walk in tells you you have stepped into an authentic experience. They even make cherry hamantaschen (little triangular tarts made of crumbly pastry dough and filled with fruit), my favorite kind (Mom used to make them for us), and bialys (short for a bialystock pletzel, which is essentially a cross between a roll and a bagel with a deep impression in the center filled with savory onions). And does Canter's have the right kind of pickles? Are you meshugenah? Of course! In fact, the restaurant pickles their own kosher dills every day--one of the only delis in the US that does it. It was a wonderful treat to eat there and hear my friend Susan's stories of when she worked there as a waitress and served numerous celebs and show biz old timers.

Friday, I decided I needed an art fix, so I drove out to visit the Getty Museum. This phenomenal art institution is gorgeously situated on a dramatic hilltop in LA's Santa Monica Mountains.
It has to be reached via a tram up the side of the mountain, and the spectacular site commands breathtaking views of the city. The five pavilions that make up the museum are at once modern and classic, made of bleached beige stone reminiscent of Egyptian temples, and the permanent collection spans all significant periods of art, with special galleries dedicated to photography, decorative arts and even a jewel of a gallery kept dim to protect a lovely collection of fragile pastel masterpieces. The featured exhibition was of French bronzes from the 17th and 18th centuries. These dark, dramatic pieces depicting mythical creatures and characters were created for the great Kings of France, including the great patron of the arts, 'The Sun King," Louis XIV. The ingenuity and skill it took to create these statues and monuments was extraordinary.
I of course visited the Italian Baroque galleries, looking for paintings from the Carravaggist school. My favorite piece from the period was "Lot and his Daughters," by Orazio Gentileschi, one of the masters of the Naturalist school and father to Artemisia Gentileschi, who I have mentioned in a previous blog post. The Getty, like most great museums, is so extensive that it's impossible to really see everything in a matter of a couple hours--but suffice to say, the collection is glorious, and contains some great masterworks, from Van Gogh's "Irises" to perhaps the most famous image captured by surrealist photographer Man Ray, entitled "Tears." The grounds and gardens of the Getty are spectacular, overflowing with exotic plants and flowers richly in bloom, interspersed with fountains and water features, sculptures and exquisite vistas to look at. It's a feast for the senses, that's for sure. The combination of natural beauty and magnificent artworks acted like a tonic on me and lifted my spirits.

I often talk about looking for the beauty wherever you go. You can always find it, whether it be in the people you meet, the places you find yourself in, or in the small unexpected moments and encounters that make life a constant surprise. I love to quote Keats, who wrote that "beauty is truth, truth beauty;" in Los Angeles there is beauty, both true and false. Image is incredibly important to those who reside and work here and the extremes to which people will go in pursuit of physical perfection are sometimes impressive and sometimes alarming. I love looking at pretty people, but to me true beauty emanates from within, from a sense of humor, from personal warmth, and from a sense of joie de vivre. No matter how pretty the package is, if it's empty inside it is ultimately worthless. I have seen some ostentatious fashion statements and outrageous plastic surgeries out here, that, far from projecting a sense of beauty, just reveal an ultimate hollowness of spirit. Some may jump up and down with delight over the prospect of winning a brand new car or a trip to Maui, some may be impressed by clothing labels or expensive automobiles. Give me a few moments in front of a magnificent piece of art, or a whiff of sweetness from a rose warmed by the sun, or the smile on an old friend's face that conjures up memories of good times. These speak to a beauty that has nothing to do with money, commerce, fashion trends or an obsession with being young, pretty and rich. They speak to the priceless, timeless riches of the soul. LA can appear soulless until you look a little deeper. There's real beauty amongst the tinsel and glitter. It's nice to know.

La La Land

2009-07-10T10:00:00.000-04:00

Week 81: Los Angeles, CA

The culture shock of coming to LA after San Francisco was mitigated somewhat by the long, eight hour drive down the coast which I took with friends Lenny and Tim. I had never seen the magnificent scenery of this part of California, and while it was quite a long day it was well worth it.
The twisting trail of Highway 1, with sheer cliffs towering over the Pacific, was breathtaking. We drove through Big Sur, stopping briefly for lunch, and then made our way south, past San Simeon and Hearst Castle, and then joined Highway 101, marveling at the landscape of rolling hills covered in parched, yellow grass with the occasional bright green vineyard cutting through them. Pulling into LA for the first time for me was a sort of tingly experience, passing the Hollywood Bowl and traversing famous streets like Sunset, Santa Monica, Hollywood and Vine. I am sharing a condo in West Hollywood, a great area, and the place itself is a sprawling, loft style apartment on a charming residential street. I leased my very first rental car, a little white Cobalt, and am learning to shuttle myself around LA, boldly braving the freeways to and from the Ahmanson Theatre downtown!

Our venue here in LA is part of Center Theatre Group, a complex of three venues including the Ahmanson, the Mark Taper Forum and the Kirk Douglas Theatre--all part of the Los Angeles Music Center-- and reminds me very much of Lincoln Center in New York.
It's the top of the line for theatre in LA and what an exciting thing it is to be the featured offering for nine whole weeks. To describe our opening here as a triumph would not be an exaggeration. The audience was ecstatic, the celebrity guest list included such luminaries as Michael York, Laurence Fishburne, Betty White, Olympic champion figure skater Scott Hamilton, Loni Anderson, Kevin Neelon, Anthony LaPaglia, and on and on. It's quite something to be on stage and to see so many famous faces smiling up at one from the audience. At our curtain call, Eric Idle and John DuPrez joined us on stage to give their thanks and to express the inspiring story of how they came to see a show at the Ahmanson while conceiving "Spamalot" and determined that one day they would see their creation on the stage there. Their dream came true, in spades, and what an honor to be a part of all that. The opening party was held on the roof of the Standard Hotel, a swanky, hip open air bar with an illuminated pool, odd round water beds to lounge upon, and a glorious panoramic view of the LA skyline. As I was leaving the theatre in my party duds, I came smack dab into Eric Idle and his wife Tanya, chatting with Billy Crystal and his wife Janice. To my shock and delight, Mr. Crystal came right up to me, shook my hand stoutly and said, "You were terrific." Eric leaned in and seconded it. I felt like I was dreaming. Does it get better than these two comic geniuses?
Such acknowledgement is priceless to an aspiring performer. The party brought more opportunities to meet great people, and I had a delightful encounter with comedienne Joanne Worley, during which we posed for this photo. I also got to be reunited with Richard Chamberlain, our beloved "Mr. C.," who is in LA for a performance at the Hollywood Bowl. What a pleasure to see him again! What can I say? The opening was such a happy occasion, crowned the next day by nearly unanimous raves in the press. We can look forward to a highly successful run here.

I must say, I did not expect to take to the LA lifestyle as pleasantly as I have this first week. I always had an idea that LA was rather plastic, image conscious and fake. And there is that element. But it is also a fascinating city of diverse neighborhoods, amazing architecture, glorious warm and sunny weather every day, and an energy distinctly its own. I am getting used to the driving and enjoying my Hollywood neighborhood. I have not ventured further than the theatre all week, just becoming familiar with the way everything works here. But I plan to really see LA during the next two months, and experience all it has to offer. Thanks for coming along for the ride--put on your sunglasses and roll the top down!

Pride and Prejudice

2009-07-03T10:30:00.000-04:00

Week 80: San Francisco, CA

'All men are created equal.' No matter how hard you try, you can never erase those words.
--Harvey Milk

San Francisco is, as you know, a gay mecca. This is largely due to the efforts of gay civil rights activist Harvey Milk, who, confronted with prejudice and discrimination in the Castro neighborhood of San Francisco, claimed the area for gay residents and businesses and brought gay rights issues to the forefront of public awareness, in the midst of a virulent anti-gay movement spearheaded by conservative harpy Anita Bryant (if you haven't seen the remarkable, Oscar winning film "Milk," I encourage you to see it). That was 40 years ago this year, as were the Stonewall Riots in New York, an event which some acknowledge as the catalyst for the gay rights movement. In the summer of 1969, on the day of Judy Garland's premature death, after continued discrimination, police raids and brutality, patrons of the Stonewall Tavern in Greenwich Village finally fought back, in an all out street fight with the police. This year being the 40th anniversary of these transformative events, as well as the year that the anti-gay Proposition 8 was passed and upheld, denying gays and lesbians the right to marry in California, San Francisco Pride was potent and powerful, and how lucky for us that we got to be a part of it.

I have not gotten terribly political on this blog, nor particularly detailed about my personal life. But I have always been openly gay, despite the possibility of discrimination and limitation within my chosen profession. It seems wrong to sublimate something so essential to one's being and I feel it is important for each and every one of us to be our authentic selves. I also have strong feelings about the same sex marriage issue, because I was in a long term partnership of 16 years with a man I loved deeply and with whom I shared many of the joys and struggles that straight couples live through.
Gay marriages, whether they be sanctioned or acknowledged by the public or the government, already exist. Prop 8, in my opinion, is wrong primarily because it is an example of the majority using the law to discriminate against a minority population of American citizens and that is simply un-American and wrong. San Francisco's Gay Pride celebration's theme this year was "To Form a More Perfect Union," and the glorious parade on Sunday, June 28th, represented this in so many ways. Sure, there were the usual over-the-top drag queens and leather men, but there were also contingents representing gay couples who married before Prop 8 passed, gay families with children, straight people who support gay marriage, parents proudly marching with their gay kids, and a host of ethnic and cultural groups representing everything from Native American to Pacific Islander cultures. The diversity, the spirits of inclusion and optimism were utterly inspiring. The bottom line is that all of us deserve the right to be who we are without fear or oppression, and to share a commitment to whoever we choose to love. All of the events of the weekend were fantastic, from the Pink Saturday street dance in the Castro, with hundreds of thousands cramming the streets in celebration, to the parade and the rally and street fair at the San Francisco Civic Center. And it was all graced with glorious summer weather. It was so great to be a part of it all, and to feel that if we have made such strides in 40 years, anything is possible; and one day gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered people in America will have equal rights and privileges under the law.

You will be happy to know that my search for authentic Jewish soul food in San Francisco was rewarded this week! Hallelujah! And hats off to Miller's East Coast Deli, on Polk Street in Russian Hill. This lively and popular emporium of authentic Jewish deli is as different from the over priced and depressing David's Delicatessen as could be. The staff is friendly, the atmosphere lively, and the food is the real deal. The corned beef is shipped in from New York and is all you could wish it to be; the vorspeis, or appetizers, from the chopped liver to the whitefish salad, taste like the ladies of the synagogue sisterhood made them themselves. I had a meat knish that was perfection: flaky pastry and savory meat filling; and the desserts were right on the money--apricot ruglelach that melts in the mouth, and noodle kugel (a sweet noodle pudding) with raisins and almonds was so authentic that it brought a tear to my eye, it reminded me so much of Grandma's. And what of the all important pickle?
Yes, friends, at Miller's they don't skimp on authenticity--your sandwich is accompanied by a half-sour, garlicky kosher pickle spear that gives that perfect last bite to the meal. Hell, they even have pickled green tomatoes, something I thought you could only find in a New York deli. If you are in San Francisco and get a hankering for a taste of real Jewish soul food, look no further than Miller's!

Those of you who have taken the time to write to me to tell me how much you enjoyed "Spamalot," or to post a comment about something on this blog, will know that I am extremely grateful for your feedback and make every effort to contact each of you personally. In fact, one of the greatest pleasures of writing this blog has been the personal connections I have made with fans, some of whom have become friends. That's why I was so stunned and disappointed to receive the following comment posted to the blog from "Anonymous." I reproduce it below, along with my response. I hope this clarifies any confusion about how to contact me and about any issues folks might have if they don't see their comments published alongside the blog posts.

"Anonymous" writes:

Your comment feature doesn't even work, so you might as well remove it.
Also, it's surprising and disappointing that you don't respond to your e-mails with even a simple acknowledgment of..."thanks for being a fan." I realize you're busy, but too busy even for that common courtesy? Why offer an e-mail icon on your blog, if all you do is ignore your e-mails---might as well remove that feature too. By offering comments and e-mail enhancements on your blog, it appears you enjoy interacting with your fans and welcome their feedback. My experience, after several attempts, is you don't, so it would be better not to even offer those add-ons, and simply write your blog...that way, people don't expect anything more, and don't get their nose bent out of shape when you completely ignore them.

So to answer this irate comment as best I can: My comment feature does work, but it is set to allow me to monitor comments and publish those I wish to publish and discard those I don't wish to publish. It is a feature of Blogger. Secondly, comments posted to the blog are not the same as emails. I can't respond to you when you post a message as a comment. There is a "Contact" page on my site which gives my email address if you wish to send me a message for me to respond to. There is an "Email" option on the Profile page of my blog, and I believe it forwards emails to my email address: james@jamesbeaman.com. It's possible that the Blogger site is not forwarding email via that profile link and I have made inquiries to customer service about it. If people do send me email to my email address which is james@jamesbeaman.com, I ALWAYS RESPOND. You can ask any of my fans and friends who write me--it is a point of honor with me. It may take me a while to respond but I always do and am most grateful when people take the time to drop a line. Lastly, why do you write to me as "Anonymous?" My true fans and friends are on a first name basis with me. My blog and who I am are about positivity and good energy. Please don't write me angry and belligerent messages anonymously. Why would I bother with such stuff? I apologize if any of my readers feel I don't respond to them in the way in which they would wish. I do my best. Sometimes I get lax in deleting old email messages and your message may bounce back. But believe me, I read every email and every comment personally and enjoy very much hearing from you all.

This is our last week in San Francisco and I have to say, at the risk of sounding cliche, I will leave a part of my heart here. I really love this place, for all its beauty, kookiness, schizophrenic weather, amazing sights, and diverse communities. It goes on the list of places I could happily live if I ever chose to leave New York. I feel so lucky to have had seven weeks to really get to know it.
As I prepare for my very first, and lengthy, visit to Los Angeles, one last duty remains: to introduce you to my San Francisco dresser, Lorraine. Lorraine trained as a costume designer and has spent her life doing costume work. She is also a new mom, having had a child late in life, and she is loving the experience of being a parent. Lorraine and I have enjoyed getting to know each other, and I owe my discovery of Miller's Deli to her and her expatriate New Yorker husband. Thanks for everything, Lorraine! Enjoy your July 4th holidays, folks, and I will have tales of our opening in Hollywoodland next week.

Where Does the Time Go?

2009-06-26T16:00:00.001-04:00

Week 79: San Francisco, CA

The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time
Any fool can do it
There aint nothing to it
Nobody knows how we got to
The top of the hill
But since we're on our way down
We might as well enjoy the ride...
--James Taylor

The passage of time. It's a real head trip, isn't it? It doesn't seem to go so fast, and then suddenly something happens to make you realize that, good Lord, it was a blink of the eye. I have been having this experience a lot this week. Monday, on my day off, I took Caltrain down to San Jose to visit my brother Alex and his family: my sister-in-law Patricia, nephew Ben, and my nieces Zoe and Isobel, who I introduced you to last week. The hour and a half train ride from San Francisco was relaxing and it was interesting to watch the little communities go by as we moved further into the suburbs--places with names like Redwood City, Menlo Park and Sunnyvale. Each train station had it's own unique depot, from streamlined 1950's art deco to old fashioned gingerbread buildings right out of "Hello, Dolly!."
It had been a number of years since I had visited my brother, who lives in the Silicon Valley because of his position at Apple, and that blow to the solar plexus one feels when one recognizes the passage of time hit me as we pulled into their driveway. Alex is a great guy, wonderful at his job, and a terrific father to his three kids. His hair is gray now and I recognize we have both gotten older (when did it happen?), but even more shocking was the little adults his three kids have become--well, Ben is far from little; at 16 years old and 6'5", he is a young man now. A talented musician, popular with his friends, and a water polo player and swimming coach. I definitely missed the growing up years of these fine kids, immersed as I was for so long in my life in New York, struggling to get my career going and cocooned within the relationship with my ex partner. It's hard not to have regrets. But my day with Alex and his kids-- hiking at a nearby park, taking photos of nature and enjoying the California sunshine--was so great that I felt that the passage of time had not taken away the feelings of appreciation and affection that I have for this wonderful family. When we return in September to play "Spamalot" in San Jose, I will get another good visit with them.

More blows to the solar plexus came this week as the world reeled from a series of celebrity deaths: Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, and most shocking, Michael Jackson. You know you are getting older when the icons of your youth are passing on. Michael Jackson, and what he represented for my generation, had nothing to do with bizarre antics, plastic surgeries and child molestation charges.
Michael was only 7 years older than I, and as a kid aspiring to show business, he and his brothers were a miracle to me. I watched their animated series on Saturday mornings, I collected their records. When I was in college, Michael broke out on his own with two magnificent albums, "Off the Wall" and "Thriller." He revolutionized the music industry by virtually creating what we now know as the music video. In short, as strange as he was, he was a brilliant artist and a part of our history. And of course, seeing him pass at the age of 50 just brings back that sense of awe about time. Where did it all go? On stage in "Spamalot" this Thursday, the day of Jackson's death, some of the performers added little touches of homage to their performances; the nun in the nun/monk pas de deux in the "Camelot" number exited doing the moonwalk, to great applause.

I have not done any sightseeing this week aside from my trip to San Jose, as I have been resting up for the busy Gay Pride weekend to come and finalizing plans for my apartment, car, etc. in Los Angeles, where we will be week after next. However, I did have the chance to speak to a group of adorable drama camp students at my friend Russell Blackwood's theatre here in San Francisco. Russell's company is called Thrillpeddlers, and they perform in a crazy barn of a space called the Hypnodrome.
Russ and I went to college together more than 25 years ago (again, where did it go?!), and he is an enormously talented man--he has directed everything from Shakespeare to opera, he is a fine actor, and he has a quirky, smart and outrageous sensibility which is reflected in his company's work. Thrillpeddlers presents classics of the Grand Guignol (a 19th century theatrical movement that was a precursor to what we now think of as the horror/thriller genre), and revive some of the most bizzare plays from fringe artists like Charles Ludlam and Charles Busch. I had such a nice time chatting with Russell's students about life in the business and life on the road--and as I sat there giving sage advice about 'the biz' to those open, young faces I thought, wasn't it just yesterday that I was that age? Hopeful, enthusiastic, with stars in my eyes? And then I realized, even with the passage of time, I still have that little kid inside. I hope I never lose him. As James Taylor advises, it's about enjoying the ride. We just need to make sure we keep our eyes open and don't miss all the special stuff along the way. Enjoy the moment, everyone.

Now the thing about time is that time
Isnt really real
Its just your point of view
How does it feel for you
Einstein said he could never understand it all
Planets spinning through space
The smile upon your face
Welcome to the human race...

Good Causes and Bad Pickles

2009-06-19T18:00:00.000-04:00

Week 78: San Francisco, CA

On Monday night this week, members of the company of "Spamalot" and the cast of the San Francisco company of "Wicked" came together to present a one night only performance to benefit the Richmond Ermet AIDS Foundation (REAF) and Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. From the beginning of the AIDS crisis, performing artists have been at the forefront of the fundraising effort, giving of their hearts and talents to help raise awareness and much needed money for AIDS related causes. As a cabaret artist in New York in the '90s, I performed in literally hundreds of these evenings, and it is always an uplifting experience. Monday was no exception. We performed at a charming little theatre on Pier 39 at busy, touristy Fisherman's Wharf, and our show was sold out. It was so great to see an enthusiastic audience come out, even in these difficult economic times, to give of themselves for this worthy cause. And our performers and volunteer crew put on a fabulous evening. It's always great to see my fellow artists step outside of their roles in the show and do something that expresses their other facets and talents; we have amazing musicians and dancers within our ranks, as well as gifted comedians and songwriters.
I had the honor of opening the show with a song that had been hand picked for me by my dear friend, and the benefit's indefatigable director, Tim Connell. It's called "Stupid Things I Won't Do," and is by musical theatre songwriter William Finn; it's a diatribe by a theatrical snob about how he won't live the humdrum life outside the rarefied world of show business. I really put on the dog, with a natty suit and fedora and had a blast. Ultimately, we raised a nice amount of money through ticket sales and our silent auction, and the audience was treated to an evening that was moving, funny and inspired. What an honor it always is to be able to give something back with love and creativity.

Every cultural minority has its "soul food." I have mentioned before that I am the token Jew on the tour, and usually this doesn't bother me at all. It's nice to be the one to chime in with a good Jewish joke or a bit of Yiddish now and then, and it certainly adds to the secret pleasure of performing "You Won't Succeed on Broadway (If You Don't Have Any Jews)." Every now and then I get a hankering for some Jewish soul food. Sometimes these moments creep up on me because I am homesick for New York, sometimes because I miss my Mom and my childhood. When one of these cravings hit, I go searching for a little Jewish food fix.
On my way to work I pass a place called David's Delicatessen on Geary Street so one day this week I stopped in. The place looks authentic, except both times I have been in it has been rather empty and quiet. They boast that they have provided a "real Jewish deli" to San Francisco for over 50 years and claim to have all the traditional delicacies, from knishes to matzoh ball soup. My craving that day was for a good boiled brisket sandwich on rye, some chopped chicken liver with schmaltz (chicken fat), a good pickle, and a Dr. Brown's Cel-Ray (celery flavored--believe me it's good) Soda. As you can tell, traditional Jewish deli food was conceived pre-cholesterol awareness!! So, the review. Well, the brisket was quite good, a little fattier than I like, but nicely accompanied by brown gravy and served on caraway rye. The chopped liver was also excellent but lacked salt. The accoutrements were what truly disappointed. The potato salad was not traditional Jewish potato salad, the big problem being chunks of hard boiled egg in it. I know enough about Southern cooking to know that hard boiled egg in potato salad is really more a Southern thing. The big disappointment was the pickle. A pickle, you say? How can the wrong pickle spoil an otherwise decent meal? Well, my gentile friend, the pickle in a Jewish deli meal is the high note at the end of the concerto. It's the bit of bite and sourness that finishes the whole experience. At David's, they gave me three crinkle cut sour pickles right out of a jar of Vlasic. Uh uh. That's not the real McCoy. What you want with a good Jewish deli sandwich is a kosher garlic dill spear pickle, with a mild garlicky flavor--or better, a green pickled tomato (but you can only get that in New York). So, I give David's a B overall. My dresser, Lorraine, who is married to an expatriate New York Jew, has given me a couple other places to try for an authentic experience so my mission before I leave here is to find the best Jewish deli in San Francisco! I will keep you posted.

My week finished out with a day of fun spent with my sister-in-law, Patricia, and my two nieces, Zoe and Isobel. They took me to Golden Gate Park on a spectacularly summery day, and we enjoyed this world class public park, with it's splendid botanical and rose gardens and museums. We spent a couple hours struggling to get through the overcrowded, very popular California Academy of Sciences. This amazing complex, which I understand has been recently expanded and refurbished, contains an aquarium and a replica of a rainforest among other treats.
It was fun to spend time with Zoe and Izzy, neither of whom I know very well because we live cross country from each other, and who have simply gone from the little girls I knew to intelligent, articulate young ladies. Both are very artistic and interested in drama, both have beautiful skin, long lean figures and lush curly blonde hair. Nothing makes you feel older than to see your brother's kids becoming young adults! In the picture, that's Isobel on the left and Zoe on the right. I greatly enjoyed the day and am looking forward to going out to their home turf of San Jose next week, where I will also get to hang out with my brother Alex and my nephew Ben. Yet another perk of this tour--I have the chance to visit my family. I can't believe we have already done five weeks in San Francisco! It has sped by, and excited as I am about being in LA for the first time, I am going to miss this town. I have fallen hard for the City by the Bay. Well, two more weeks to go here in SF. Stay tuned.

Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay

2009-06-13T11:00:00.000-04:00

Week 77: San Francisco, CA

On our day off this week, my pal Lenny and I decided to take the ferry across the bay to Sausalito. This charming little community was at one time an artist's enclave, and still retains a sort of laid back vibe, although it is now a pretty exclusive and chi-chi area. The ferry ride was very pleasant and as we pulled away from the stunning San Francisco skyline, the temperature rose and the day gave way to bright sunshine and early summer weather the likes of which one does not get in San Francisco proper (there's always a nip in the air). Arriving in Sausalito, I was reminded of little seaside towns on the Mediterranean, like San Tropez or Nice. The marina is full of vessels of various kinds, and a community of some 400 houseboats, which lend a unique charm. The town rises up from the bay in tiers of Spanish style villas and modern condos nestled in lush tropical plantings. It's really beautiful. The main drag of Sausalito is fairly touristy, but there are some great art galleries and unique shops, as well as some really nice restaurants.
Lenny and I had lunch at Horizons, a restaurant perched right on the water, where we sat and enjoyed the view of San Francisco in the distance as we ate fresh oysters on the half shell and soaked up some sun. It really was the perfect day off--relaxed, genteel and completely satisfying. That night, a mixer was arranged with members of our company and the company of "Wicked," which is having a long and successful run here. We gathered at a wine bar and "talked shop" with these talented and friendly people, some of whom will be performing alongside us next week at our benefit for the organization REAF, the Richmond Ermet AIDS Foundation, which raises funds for AIDS organizations through events like ours. The remainder of my week has been spent working out, performing, and preparing my own number for the benefit.

Since it has been a fairly uneventful week, I can take this opportunity to answer a few questions sent to me by audience members. I love receiving your inquiries, so keep 'em coming!

Question for you. How do you fly back to NYC to audition when you are across the country performing? Can you assure your diehard blog fans you'll keep us informed on the life and times of James Beaman after Spamalot ends?

Well, thus far I have not been called upon to return to New York for auditions, but that may happen. In that case, we are permitted to request a personal day, and I would then fly, at my own expense, back to NYC and do the audition. The job would have to be a really great one for me to do that, however. I am actually hoping that there will be some auditions for me in Los Angeles while we are there, not only for film or TV--many Broadway projects hold LA auditions. I don't know what sort of blogging I will do post-"Spamalot," but I assure you my website will have updates and news on whatever life brings me next!

Rebecca asks:

Since you have spent so much time on the road, do you have any tips or recommendations for those of us who might be traveling around the U.S.?

Sure. The first thing I would say is, travel light. Don't load yourself down with extensive wardrobe choices and heavy full sized toiletries and bottles of perfume. In the first place, you won't wear all of that stuff. Pick the pieces that are staples for you, limit your wardrobe to a narrow color palette so you can easily mix and match pieces, and have one or two dressy items you can pull out as need be. Airlines charge exorbitant fees for checked luggage, particularly overweight luggage, and cramming tons of stuff in carryon and then trying to fit them in overhead bins just slows down the whole boarding process for everyone and gives you a heavy bag to carry that will end up being gate checked anyway. Keep things light.

Secondly, I would say, join every frequent flyer program and hotel rewards plan that there is. It's free, you earn points towards flights and hotel stays and can receive special benefits for being a member, like free internet access in hotels. My favorite chain hotels by far are the Marriott Residence Inns and the Candlewood Suites. I highly recommend both--you always know what you are going to get, and I have never been disappointed. Both hotel chains provide suites with full kitchens and nice amenities, and Candlewood offers guests free laundry, and a pantry for late night snacks.

Lastly, I would say, plan ahead and make a list of the sights and attractions you really, really want to see in each place you go and set aside time throughout your stay to do each thing. By planning ahead you can avoid a lot of running around that can exhaust you and ruin the enjoyment of your trip, whether it be business or pleasure. Remember to leave time to rest and relax and I would say always set aside one day just to wander--pick a neighborhood or an area and just stroll, discovering things along the way. Bring a camera and a journal and record your adventures.

And last, here is Ben's question:

How do you stay in shape while you are traveling so much? Do you and the other performers warm up before every show?

Staying in shape is a priority for me. I am a big fitness freak and have learned as I have been out here that, with discipline, a good fitness regimen can be maintained. I do a combination of weight training, power yoga and various forms of cardio. Here in San Francisco, I have a gym, and I joined a yoga studio where I go a couple times a week. In other cities, I have had to work out on my own, sometimes in hotel rooms, so I spent three months doing the P90X plan, which is a series of DVD workouts that can be done with minimal equipment, pretty much anywhere. As for warming up, each performer has their own routine. For some, the warmup can be extensive (Ben Davis, our Galahad, is an opera singer and his warmup can be in excess of an hour sometimes!), for others, it's a simple routine that just loosens up the muscles and gets the voice warm. I do a fairly simple warmup for the show because I work out every day and my body is usually fairly ready for the show. Also, once you get used to doing the same performance eight times a week, your body has learned to adapt to the demands of the show and the muscles are tuned to those demands. Warming up is essential, however, to avoid injury and to be at peak performance level.

So folks, more from San Francisco next week. I will fill you in on the "Spamalot"/"Wicked" benefit then. Meantime, enjoy summer, wherever you are!

A Bowl of Cherries

2009-06-05T18:00:00.002-04:00

Week 76: San Francisco, CA

It occurred to me this week that I might do very well as a travel writer. I don't express this to pat my own back in any way about my writing abilities. I have just reached a stage in my life when I realize I have put all my eggs in one basket, so to speak. I have been doing theatre since I was 12 and I have focused all my energy, my passion and my resources into generating a life in the work that I love. And I have no intention of stopping acting; but I often think about things I love to do that I might pursue as other outlets for my creativity and possible sources of income. Travel writing and taking photographs of the places I visit seem to me very pleasant side lines. I think about Julia Powell, who decided to tackle a year long project to execute 365 recipes as set down by Julia Child. Her passion for her project transformed her life, led to a blog, which led to a best selling book, and now is a feature film starring Meryl Streep and Amy Adams. One wonders what is possible if one just follows one's heart--or gut--or both.

San Francisco, like all great cities, is endlessly fascinating, mystifying, and full of surprises of every stripe. This week, on our day off, I convinced my buddies Tim and Lenny to head out with me to take the 49 mile scenic drive through San Francisco. I needed the practice driving and I thought it would be a great way to see the various neighborhoods of the city without sitting on one of those silly double decker buses. Well, we had a terrific time. The drive was originally created in 1938 to promote the Golden Gate Exposition of 1939, inspired by the opening of the Golden Gate Bridge in 1937. Why 49 miles? It's a special number in San Francisco: the city covers 49 square miles, and became prominent during the Gold Rush of 1849. Now, driving in San Francisco is a fascinating set of challenges all its own. I am sure you remember crazy chase scenes like in "What's Up Doc?" or "Foul Play." This is a city of incredibly steep hills, where one must drive to the top only to be met with a stop sign that causes one to teeter perilously at the peak of an incline before proceeding again. Talk about Vertigo! The drive was worth it though--from the crowded streets of Chinatown, to the expansive boulevards of Nob Hill; from the winding climes of Twin Peaks to the tourist delights of Fisherman's Wharf. I drove for three hours and we still didn't get through Golden Gate Park and a number of other notable areas. Thank goodness I am here another month.

I am slowly discovering the various neighborhoods in San Francisco, and like most cities, the more you explore the smaller and more manageable it all starts to become. The neighborhoods here are all unique, with their own cultural and aesthetic personalities, and one can easily bump right into one area from another since they are all sort of stacked up against each other. My most pleasant day this week was Thursday, one of those beautiful, mild days where one can wander and explore at one's leisure, and I found myself walking north up Polk Street through what I found out was Russian Hill.
This enchanting neighborhood is fast becoming my favorite in San Francisco. Polk Street is lined with charming and completely unique businesses--antique shops, vintage clothing stores, interior design galleries, antiquarian booksellers, well worn old world pubs (including the appropriately named O'Reilly's Holy Grail Pub). It is here that that distinctly European flavor I have been feeling in San Francisco is most apparent. After wandering through the various shops, fantasizing about purchasing things to decorate my New York apartment, I had a late lunch at La Boulange de Polk, an authentic French boulangerie serving magnificent pastries and delicious soups and sandwiches. Then further down I stopped in at Lotta's Bakery, owned by a charming couple, one of whom is the baker and the other a collector of vintage objects which are also a part of the bake shop. Lotta's makes the real old fashioned, home style baked goods I adore, and I couldn't leave without a slice of the rhubarb pie. The shop is named after Lotta Crabtree, a famous entertainer and San Francisco legend. Lotta was an actress and vaudevillian who became one of San Francisco's wealthiest residents.
The character that Jeanette MacDonald plays in the 1930's movie, "San Francisco," is based on Lotta, and in fact, the event at the end of the movie, when the earthquake has devastated the city and Jeanette leads the survivors singing to a place of safety is a true story about Lotta Crabtree. I was amused too, to learn that Bob, the co-owner of the bakery, used 'Lotta Crabtree' for years as his drag name. How San Francisco is that? As I contentedly wandered back to my hotel, I stopped for some fresh flowers and a pound of cherries, which are now in season. I brought the cherries home, washed them, gobbled a few, and like my Mom used to do, I put them in a bowl in the fridge for later enjoyment. Something so simple can be such a pleasure. To me, fresh cherries mean that summer is indeed here.

Lest you think the City by the Bay is all charm, I can tell you about the Tenderloin, the area at the bottom of the hill from my hotel, where our theatre is located. Again, one can walk, as if through an invisible membrane, from the rather affluent Nob Hill neighborhood to the north into the Tenderloin and feel a distinct and quite unpleasant shift in reality. The Tenderloin district became a disreputable area as early as the 1920's, where it was populated by gambling halls and speakeasies. Sandwiched between Union Square and it's fashionable shopping district, and the Civic Center, this area is sort of the sink drain of San Francisco, where all the undesirable human refuse of the city washes up. Crackheads, prostitutes, the homeless, and a plethora of just plain old drunks (there are 60 liquor stores in this small area) and crazies hang out on the streets at all hours of the day and night. Walking through this bedlam of fist fights, drug deals and public urination every day and every night to and from work is not the most pleasant thing imaginable. It's piteous, really.

Yet, as you know, my credo is to look for the beauty, and I had the pleasure on Friday of exploring the beauties of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. This magnificent institution is every bit as impressive and as rich in great works as the MOMA in New York. Housed in a beautiful building with a glorious, sun drenched central atrium and a newly opened and expansive rooftop garden, the SFMOMA represents modern and contemporary art in all its diversity. From Rothko to Warhol, from Matisse to Picasso, there is something for everyone here. My favorites of the painted works in the collection were Lichtenstein's triptych of pop art interpretations on Monet's "Rouen Cathedral" series; Magritte's surreal commentary on male grooming and accoutrements, "Personal Values;" and a very famous Diego Rivera, "The Flower Carrier." Most exciting for me were two wonderful exhibitions of photography. The first was an in depth exploration of the seminal photographic collection "The Americans" by Robert Frank. Frank was a Swiss born Jew who came to the states, optimistic about the country and what it represented, until, with the aid of a Guggenheim Foundation grant, he traveled extensively throughout America, photographing with an unflinching eye the shifting landscape of American life.
His vision is often bleak, cynical, yet touched with moments of heartbreaking empathy for the fragility and anonymity of modern urban life. It's an amazing vision of our country in the middle of the 20th century. The other exhibition I visited explored the relationship between the work of great American photographer Ansel Adams and painter Georgia O'Keefe. The two met in New Mexico in the 1920's, and were aligned with each other through their common bond with Alfred Stieglitz, O'Keefe's husband and Adams' mentor. Both artists explored the natural beauty of the American landscape, and both were drawn to the abstractions possible when focusing in closely on the details of plant life, terrain--whether it be sand dunes or mountain crags, and the inside of flowers or just the foam on the surface of a pond. Adams palette was the evocative range of silvery hues of black and white photography; O'Keefe's aesthetic was all about the exploration of color in organic expressions of astonishing variety. Further proof that art is here to remind us all of our common humanity, our common connection to nature, and the infinite individual expressions of those experiences that are available to us. Looking at an Adams photograph of a leaf or the patterns of light on a stream, I am reminded of that bowl of cherries. Something so simple can be so joyful, so life affirming. Remember that old song... "Life is just a bowl of cherries, don't take it serious, life's too mysterious."

Idle Thoughts

2009-05-30T12:00:00.000-04:00

Week 75: San Francisco, CA

Our opening night this week in San Francisco was an unqualified triumph. For me, it felt like a Broadway opening. Eric Idle and John DuPrez, the creators of "Spamalot," were in attendance. Eric came back stage to our dressing rooms to wish all the leading actors well. He had seen the first preview last week and had great things to say about all of us; he told me he felt I was wonderful in the show and "very, very funny." For a comic genius who was a member of one of the most famous comedy teams in history (which celebrates its 40th anniversary this year) to offer me praise like that, for a role that he himself created in the film, was heady stuff indeed. If I had doubts about my work in "Spamalot" they were allayed by the approval of the man himself. Eric and John came up on stage after curtain calls and joined us for the big "Bright Side" singalong, and after the show our presenters here threw us an elegant party at the Hotel Monaco nearby.
As usual, the company got out their Sunday clothes and made a beautiful showing. Above, there's a shot of me with Chris Sutton and his lovely wife, Lyn, together with Eric Idle; and here is a shot of me with our reigning King, John O'Hurley, and his beautiful real life Queen, Lisa. Such a great kickoff to our run here.

I have been, for the first time on this tour, living the classic life of an actor. San Francisco offers so much fun and entertaining nightlife that I have been out on the town virtually after every performance of the show, staying out til all hours, rising in the late morning and using the afternoon hours to get to the gym or a yoga class, or to see something of the city. This is unusual for an early riser like me--in almost all the other cities I have gotten up early and been out and about sightseeing every day. The long and short of it is, there is much of San Francisco to explore and I have not seen a whole lot just as yet. Part of the reason is that it is quite a complicated city to get around in--once you figure out the tangle of subways, buses and cable cars, you have to prepare yourself for the inevitable walking, which is really climbing. And I tell you, it can be a challenge, even for the physically fit, to do a full day of exploring in San Francisco. I have managed to wander around the Nob Hill neighborhood where I am staying, marveling at the classic architecture, the beauty of Grace Cathedral, the majesty of the Hotel Fairmount, and the views of the city from atop the hill. Each neighborhood has its own character, and I look forward to seeing more of this beautiful city as the weeks go on. If I can get out of bed in the morning!

We are preparing for a benefit which we will be performing in a couple weeks on our "dark night," for a local AIDS charity as well as Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. Various company members are coming up with musical numbers and dance pieces to perform and we are going to appear alongside members of the cast of "Wicked." I am doing a number by musical theatre composer William Finn, which was suggested by my friend Tim, who is organizing the benefit. It's a fun number and really expresses my personality. Following my rehearsal yesterday, I wandered back to the hotel and along the way I stopped in to the San Francisco Performing Arts Library and Museum for their incredible exhibit entitled "Star Quality: The World of Noel Coward." You may recall that I went to the Lunts' home in Wisconsin, Ten Chimneys, last year--the famous acting couple were lifelong friends of Coward's and this exhibit started there and has expanded to what it is now in San Francisco.
Coward was one of the great theatrical minds of the last century--starting his career as a precocious child actor, by his twenties he was an established playwright who was not only prolific but fast (he wrote "Hay Fever" in three days and "Private Lives" in four), was a composer, an actor, a singer, a director--in short, he was what he came to be called later in life: The Master. I have always loved Coward and this exhibit, full of rare photographs and memorabilia (from Coward's dressing gowns, to his cigarette cases, his theatrical makeup kit and toupees), wonderful recordings and video is just thrilling. It's a glimpse into a theatrical world that, alas, no longer exists. We may never see such glamour again.

"Star Quality: I don't know what it is, but I've got it."
--Noel Coward

San Francisco's many museums offer riches that I absolutely plan to explore during the rest of my time here. Along with those explorations, I plan to get in some quality time with my brother, his wife and their kids, who all live in nearby San Jose. I don't get to see them often and it was a blast to share "Spamalot" with them--especially with my brother, who has been a die hard Python fan since the 70s. I have a few other friends in the area that I plan to spend some time with, and will no doubt continue to burn the candle at both ends! But it's all part of the adventure of this tour. Now that we know that the journey will come to an end in October, we all have the opportunity to really savor not only the sights and activities of these last great cities, but to really appreciate how lucky we are to still be getting out there and doing the work of this hugely successful and popular show. Believe me, I am deeply grateful still for this opportunity, and feel very proud and excited indeed that the creators, especially Mr. Idle, have given me their seal of approval. I am off to do a two show Saturday, so best wishes to all. More next week!

Spam Francisco

2009-05-23T17:05:00.001-04:00

Week 74: San Francisco, CA

If you're alive, you can't be bored in San Francisco. If you're not alive, San Francisco will bring you to life.
--William Saroyan

At last! Our long awaited seven week engagement in The City by the Bay. San Francisco is one of the most distinctive, unique and amazing cities in the world. One look at the streets of this place and you know exactly where you are--it is as recognizably itself as any great city--Paris, New York, London. And it is somewhat improbable, this great metropolis built on all of these steep crazy hills--it reminds me a bit of the ingenuity and audacity that created Venice, a city on stilts in a swamp. There is something magical about the creativity and determination that brought these unique cities to life. And let me tell ya, there is no better workout for the buns and thighs than climbing the hills in this town! I just love it here. I had been to San Francisco a few times with my cabaret act, but never for more than a week at a time. This summer I get to really develop a relationship with this place. The weather, while intermittently cold (you know Mark Twain's quote about "the coldest winter I spent was summer in San Francisco") is beautiful and the place is endlessly fascinating. It has a somewhat indefinable European quality and a sophisticated charm that even New York doesn't possess. I really love it.

"Spamalot" excitement is in the air here, and our promoters are really getting us out there--the show has posters and billboards everywhere: on the sides of buses, in the subways, on nearly every street corner. We had our first weekend of preview performances, and the first one was sold out, with an ecstatic energy that gave us all a rush. Eric Idle was present at our first show and, while I didn't get to meet him, I hear he was pleased with how his creation is coming across. Our producers have enhanced the show for our California run by restoring the full orchestra and beefing up the lighting and sound. These touches, especially the fuller, richer sound of the amazing band, add so much to the experience not only for the audience, but for us. It has revitalized us all with new energy and enthusiasm.
We are performing at the Golden Gate Theatre, one of those great old venues that started as a vaudeville house in the 1920s, went through a decline with the advent of movies and the changing fortune of the sketchy Tenderloin district where it resides, and then experienced a revitalization to become one of San Francisco's leading performance venues. It has that crumbling, dusty feel of a good old fashioned theatre, where once the Marx Brothers cavorted and Frank Sinatra appeared to crowds of screaming bobby soxers.

San Francisco is a city of many cultures and many neighborhoods. I am looking forward to exploring them all and taking in the unique sights, the fabulous art museums and the historic landmarks and writing about them here. This week has been primarily about getting acclimated to my neighborhood, my apartment here, my routine; we also had a full dress rehearsal this week prior to our first preview for Casey Nicholaw, our brilliant choreographer, who gave us all thumbs up on our show. I am staying here in a sort of in between neighborhood, halfway between Nob Hill and Union Square in what is referred to here as "downtown." A 20 minute walk to the theatre district and the busy shopping center of San Francisco, I am centrally located and can easily jaunt out to the various neighborhoods of the city from here. I am staying in one of those great old residential hotels from another age, the Steinhart.
Built in 1910, its marble and mahogany lobby and gated elevator are charming, and I have a sweet little studio apartment with a Murphy bed. It's really cute. All in all, I am happily ensconced and am looking forward to the adventures here over the next several weeks and the pleasure of what I know will be a most successful run. Stay tuned for more from San Francisco next week.

Mile High

2009-05-16T10:28:00.000-04:00

Week 73: Denver, CO

My week off in New York sped by. There were many things to attend to, people to see, and goals to accomplish. Such is the New York way, but in my case, this was my last time home for at least several months. I really was industrious, and among other things, I passed my driver's test and am now a licensed New York driver. It's funny to be saying that at my age but it's definitely an achievement, and is just in time for our California tour! I had not realized I needed the break from the show so much until I showed up for our opening here in Denver. I suddenly felt so refreshed and energized to perform, and the Denver audiences are vocal, smart and there to have a rollicking good time. Fantastic crowds.

Our energetic opening here was tempered somewhat by a visit from our general manager, who came out from New York to give us all the official news that the "Spamalot" tour will close in October, following our engagement in Costa Mesa, CA. With over three years, 101 different city stops, and over 160 million dollars in revenue, this highly successful tour will finally come to an end. It is, of course, always sad when a production has to close up shop, but it is also the nature of the theatre. I am sure that I am not the only performer in the company who is now focusing on the horizon and thinking about that next job. It's the nature of the beast. Anyway, that's all a few months off and we still have our exciting San Francisco and LA engagements to look forward to. I am grateful that I will be fortunate enough to be in the final company of the original "Spamalot" production.

Denver is a really cool town. I love the look of it, the laid back energy of it, and the weather has been wonderful. It has been quite a challenge to get used to the dryness of the air here as well as the altitude. The former makes it imperative to guzzle water all day and stave off chapped skin with lip balm and lotion; the latter makes breathing a challenge, and as you can imagine, that poses something of a difficulty when one is jumping around on stage in a musical! I have not gotten to see as much of Denver as I would have liked but I really love the visual character of the city. Old warehouse districts are now high end loft condos and chic restaurants; old buildings have been preserved, giving a taste of gold rush era Colorado, while modern structures and glass skyscrapers provide a modern edge.
The Denver Center for the Performing Arts is one such magnificent architectural feature. In the 70's, an ambitious project centered around expanding the existing old Auditorium Theatre into a multi-space performing arts complex, and today the DCPA encompasses ten different spaces with over 10,000 seats. Our theatre, the Temple Hoyne Buell Theatre, was opened in 1991 and is a really beautiful modern performance venue.

While I was in Des Moines last Christmas I was befriended by a couple of fans, Beth and her mom Karen, who saw the show a few times while we were there and who have become pen pals of mine. They decided to take a vacation to Denver while the show was here to visit relatives and see their favorite musical (and actor!) again. I had the pleasure of spending some time with Beth and Karen during their visit, and we all went to see the Denver Art Museum together.
The new wing of the museum, designed by Gio Ponti, resembles something out of "Star Trek"--all pointy angles and high tech gray tiles. The collection is relatively small but diverse, and they had a special exhibition of psychedelic concert posters from the Haight Ashbury period of the 60s in San Francisco which was fun. Of course I took Beth and Karen to the European collection to see what treasures of the Renaissance or the Baroque they might have. I was pleased to find two really exciting pieces there: "Portrait of a Young Man in a Red Hat," a famous piece by Sandro Botticelli, and a rare "Still Life With Fruit" by the master Caravaggio, on loan to the museum. One of the great joys of doing this tour and keeping this blog is that it has introduced me to some terrific people like Karen and Beth. I was delighted to visit with them here in Denver, and as fate would have it, Beth was the audience member pulled up on stage to be our "peasant" at the third performance she saw this week! What a treat for a diehard fan!

And so, with the completion of our time here in the Mile High City, the long awaited California leg of the tour will begin. We are all looking forward to a nice long stay in San Francisco at a wonderful time of year, and, since we all know now when our tour will come to an end, we will cherish these next few months. Denver has treated us well. Some of our best audiences ever, and a really swell time had by all.
Janel is my Denver dresser. She has been doing wardrobe work since she was 18 years old, and it is a family business. Janel's husband has been a wardrobe worker, her mother in law started the wardrobe union here in Denver, and she has a handful of relatives actually working on our show! She's been just lovely to work with. And so folks, it is good to be back on the road with you! San Francisco, here I come!

Emerald City and Shakespeareland

2009-05-02T00:00:00.000-04:00

Week 72: Eugene, OR

Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems.
--Rainer Maria Rilke

A group of us left Anchorage in the dead of night, taking an overnight flight to Portland, and from there, a bus to Eugene. Drifting in and out of sleep, I watched the dawn break over the passing Oregon landscape. Rays of sunshine breaking through cloud illuminated verdant hillsides, brilliant fields of green with sheep grazing, rich farmland, acres of wildflowers. It reminded me of the beautiful countrysides of Germany and Austria.
After the austere, dingy winter that had overstayed its welcome in Anchorage, Spring rose up at me in a riot of color and extravagant lushness. How very welcome it is. I have said often that we must seek out beauty wherever we can find it, but in Oregon it seems to simply reach out to you from all sides. Spring is here in full flower; trees bend with the weight of their blossoms, the grass is vibrant and studded with dandelions and daisies, the air is fresh and fragrant with the scent of rich, moist earth and honeysuckle.

Eugene is a charming small college town (University of Oregon is here) and something of a hippie enclave. It is nestled in a beautiful natural setting, and surrounded by lovely parks like Alton Baker Park, which lies right across from my hotel, and borders the rushing and crystalline Willamette River. It's no wonder such a green haven has been nicknamed "The Emerald City." Green thinking and environmental awareness are part of the lifestyle here, as are all forms of outdoor exercise, from running to biking. On Saturday the town hosts the oldest outdoor market in the country; grocery stores and farmer's markets burst with the freshest produce. There are funky shops and art galleries at the 5th Ave Market, as well as numerous excellent eateries. In short, Eugene is as lovely a place to spend a week as any I can remember visiting--I have the same feeling of well being and balance here that I had back in Greenville, SC last year. Places like this make you feel healthier and more relaxed. And fortunately, our week started with three whole days off in which I explored the area, wandering the woods and strolling along the river, taking pictures, watching the migrating geese float downstream with their little goslings in tow, or sitting by the rushing water under a shady tree reading Pablo Neruda. Folks, life is good.
And if that's not enough, there's the glorious Oregon coast 50 miles away. The rocky coastline rising above the Pacific is what I would imagine the coast of Ireland to be like. Green, craggy, majestic. Oregon is growing on me.

Back in January, in wintry South Bend, I concocted a plan to visit the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland while we are here in Eugene. I was working on learning to drive, and my intention was to reward the achievement of my license with a road trip to Ashland. I bought theatre tickets and requested a rare personal day. I also booked a room at a charming bed and breakfast, and wrote to the artistic staff of the Festival and requested an audition. They agreed to see me during my overnight visit this week. Let me try to explain what going to OSF and auditioning for them meant to me.

Oregon Shakespeare Festival is a Tony Award-winning regional theatre that is going into its 75th year of continuous operation; it is an American institution.
It is also only one of three Shakespeare Festivals in the world that work as a genuine repertory company (The Stratford Ontario Festival and The Royal Shakespeare Company are the others), presenting a full season of rotating productions in three incredible spaces. The Elizabethan Stage is a replica of an early Elizabethan playhouse for a stunning outdoor experience, the Bowmer Theatre is their arena style thrust stage space, and the New Theatre is a black box, in the round venue. It's a Shakespeare dork's dream! And the theatre is the main attraction in charming Ashland, a slice of real Americana here in the northwest. White picket fences, Craftsman style houses, perfect gardens. Funky antique shops and dynamite restaurants. And I love the campy names that businesses have adopted inspired by Shakespeare such as: Puck's Donuts, Juliet Hair Salon, All's Well Nature Foods, and my personal favorites--a music store called CD Or Not CD, and a storage company called As U Stor It. At the Black Sheep you can get a black and tan and a genuine Welsh rarebit or a Norfolk fish pie. I could go on and on about my little overnight jaunt to Ashland. I saw two shows, a violent modern dress "Macbeth" and the zany and completely delicious Commedia dell'Arte Farce, "The Servant of Two Masters." I snuck into the Elizabethan Theatre and watched, a bit jealously, a rehearsal for a scene in the upcoming "All's Well That Ends Well." I practiced my soliloquy for "Richard III" in nearby Lithia park, which is as close to the Forest of Arden as I have ever seen. At one point, I was speaking my speech, and a deer crossed my path and looked at me. Richard the third and a deer had a standoff in a woodland glen.

What can I say, folks? I love classical theatre and there are still many roles I would love to try my hand at in the Shakespeare canon. So, I was honored to audition for Oregon Shakespeare Festival while I was there. This would be akin to a ballet dancer auditioning for ABT, or an opera singer auditioning for the Met. By the way, I didn't get my license during the layoff, so I had to fly from Eugene to Medford, 20 miles from Ashland, and hire a car to drive me there. I swear, during my vacation next week, I will do my damnedest to pass that driving test! Grrr! So, back to Eugene. Our run at the Hult Center, a beautiful theatre, is going great, and the audiences here are vocal and enthusiastic. My dresser here is the lovely Gwen.
Gwen, as you might imagine, was once a model and also worked in the fashion industry before finding her way into costume design in Los Angeles and now here in Oregon. She's simply beautiful and a great dresser, such a sweetie. And now, my friends, I am heading home to New York for a week's vacation, while the company goes on to Spokane. So I will reconnect with you the week after from Denver, Colorado.

500

2009-04-24T11:00:00.001-04:00

Week 71: Anchorage, AK

This week, my friends Tim and Angela and I rented a car and drove out along Seward Highway in the direction of Portage glacier to take in the scenery. The Alaskan landscape is awe inspiring. Vast, unspoiled expanses of sea and snow, majestic mountain peaks and towering pines.
Waterfalls and mountain streams that trickle down the sides of steep rock faces that rise above one as one drives the coastal highways. Eagles circle overhead as the sunlight dazzles off the sparkling water and gleams across the polished, icy glazed surfaces of the craggy peaks. Chill, fresh mountain air fills the lungs and numbs the nose and cheeks. Surveying these panoramas, we couldn't help commenting on how small and insignificant we humans are in contrast with the awesome majesty of nature. Truly, I understand now why people choose to make this part of the world their home. Our little band scrambled over rocks, climbed to lookouts and visited a wildlife preservation center where we were able to view bison, moose, caribou.
We had the pleasure of watching a reindeer mom attending to her newborn calf, a fluffy black baby with spindly, still-uncertain legs. I think we tend to get so caught up in the little dramas of our lives, we humans, that we forget that there is a natural world out there, as basic as our true, essential selves, which exists in a timeless cycle that we would do well to connect with more often than we do. How fortunate we are also to live in such a vast and beautiful country that encompasses so many different landscapes and ecosystems. Talk about purple mountain's majesty.

This week marked my 500th performance in "Spamalot." This is half of what several original tour members have performed, but for me it's certainly a significant achievement, and the most performances I have ever given of any one role. It's a mindblower to think of the many places I have been and fine performers who have come and gone from our little "Spamily," and the thousands and thousands of people I have helped entertain over the past 16 months. All I can really say is that I am grateful as hell to have such a great job during these uncertain economic times and to be able to say I am a working actor. It's something I have spent many years dreaming of and struggling for, and to realize that I have been continuously employed as a performer for over a year is humbling and deeply gratifying.

Our second week in Anchorage has been certainly as successful as the first, with word of mouth bringing enthusiastic crowds to the theatre every night. John O'Hurley has integrated himself into our production with finesse and is now a charming, befuddled and delightful leader as King Arthur. We are able to jell somewhat now as a company after a flurry of changes in the cast, and all eyes are set on our San Francisco opening in a few weeks. California, and the happy promise of multi-week "sit downs" in San Francisco and LA have loomed on the horizon all winter, and we are all excited to be on the brink of getting there. From Alaska, we head to Eugene, Oregon, where I will be making a brief pilgrimage to Ashland and the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, and then, when the company goes on to Spokane, Washington I will be taking a week's vacation to return to New York, conquer my nerves and nail my driving test! From there, it's a week in Denver and then on to our opening in San Francisco. Several of you have written me asking about dates beyond San Francisco, as the official "Spamalot" website has not posted dates yet. We will be at the Ahmanson Theatre in LA from July 7 through September 6, and a week in San Diego follows that engagement. September is as far as our official itinerary goes at present but the tour will continue beyond that.

Vicki is my dresser in Anchorage.
She trained originally to be an actress, and many years ago was offered a teaching job up here, fell in love with Alaska, and stayed. She has taught drama, debate and public speaking as well as math on the high school level up here, and keeps her hand in in the theatre world as often as possible, acting and working wardrobe among other activities. Our whole Anchorage crew has been a friendly, welcoming lot and it has been a most enjoyable engagement. I confess, however, that I am ready for the warm. Pretty as this part of the country is, I am hankering after some real spring weather. Perhaps it's waiting for us in Oregon. More from there next week.

Northern Exposure

2009-04-17T17:00:00.003-04:00

Week 70: Anchorage, AK

Welcome back! I had a hectic, but ultimately good week off in New York. Got my taxes done, visited with old friends, and made it to three Broadway shows. I also took my driver's road test, but alas, nerves prevailed and I failed. Which means that in a couple week's time I will be taking a vacation in order to return to New York and retake the test. I am undaunted and determined to get to California as a licensed driver!

So here we are in Anchorage for almost two weeks. I admit that I wrote a whole blog post about my reaction to Alaska but discarded it because I realized that from where I have been and lived my whole life, the Alaskan way of life is something very foreign to me and I had a lot of judgments about it. While these observations may have been entertaining, they were ultimately unenlightened and needed rethinking! Alaska is remote, and the people who live here have a keen sense that they live in a place and a culture far removed from much of American life. As such, they take great pride in their way of life, and have an interesting paradoxical relationship with the wildlife and natural beauty that surrounds them. The animals that populate Alaska, from moose to caribou, from wolves to salmon, are celebrated everywhere here: on wall murals, statues in public squares, and in numerous depictions from fine art to tourist trap souvenirs. Wildlife is also seen as a source of income, commerce and sport for Alaskans. There seem to be almost as many fur shops in Anchorage than there are coffee shops and bars--which is saying a lot. Alaskans are passionate about coffee and love their microbrews and booze. Anchorage is a PETA supporter's worst nightmare. The minute you get off the plane you are confronted by an airport display of the trophies of the hunter and the taxidermist's art, in the form of decapitated moose and deer heads and even an entire stuffed polar bear in a glass case.
In an effort to understand the whole hunter culture I have visited websites and picked up pamphlets about things like "Predator Control," which essentially is the systematic slaughter of wolves and bears in the wild which feed on moose and caribou, thus leaving more moose and caribou for "harvesting" by hunters. I just wonder in what way the "harvesters" are different from the "predators." And I wonder too if moose and caribou meat and skins etc are of real use to people who don't necessarily live any more in an arctic wilderness. Again, I make assumptions. But blood sport holds no fascination for me and it is difficult for me to be open minded about it. There's also controversy here about efforts to get oil drilling going offshore and in nature preserves and national parks. This was, of course, one of the cornerstones of Sarah Palin's message during the presidential campaign. And again, it is part of the conundrum of human beings living so much surrounded by nature and wildlife, and yet having the usual human urges for comfort, profit and "progress." I had a surreal moment the other morning as I walked to the gym around 9AM and saw coming toward me a fancy hansom cab, led by two horses in jingle bell harnesses and driven by a man in a top hat. As the rig jingled past, I saw that in the back was someone dressed in a polar bear suit, holding up a sign that read, "Drill, Baby, Drill." It went along its way and I stood there and gaped, as local residents went about their business, completely oblivious to this bizarre nose-thumbing at environmental protection.

All of that said, there is much to appreciate about Anchorage, not the least of which is its gorgeous natural setting, surrounded by majestic snowy mountains, glaciers and expanses of mud flats. While it is not unusual to see a moose roaming the downtown streets, as of this writing, I have not yet had the pleasure of a sighting! The town itself is a unique mix of cultures and an odd assortment of buildings--while the people have a great deal of character and diversity, the town itself lacks a cohesive, attractive look. Lots of boxy structures , a few glass office buildings, and a plethora of souvenir shops, everything coated in a thin layer of grime from a hard winter of snow and road salt. There is an odd, suburban feeling mall in the center of town, and the large Alaska Center for the Performing Arts, where we make our home this week.
The Center was built in 1989 and our venue, the Atwood Concert Hall, has a very interesting and colorful interior, which resembles a series of teepees fanning out from the proscenium arch. Our audiences have been terrific and buzz around town has been ecstatic--there are some hardcore Monty Python fans out here, and on our opening night, they were cheering for familiar characters and situations as fast as we could parade them out for them! One thing that does characterize Anchorage is the food, glorious food. Wonderful restaurants abound here, from genteel Italian and Pan Asian bistros, to traditional seafood restaurants and brewhouses, to local favorites like the Snow City Cafe, which serves hearty breakfasts all day and makes the most delicious homemade granola (I bought a huge bag of it and eat it all day long). The popular bars, like Humpy's, where one can enjoy everything from trivia tournaments to live blues bands, are hopping every night of the week. I guess in a place where the winters are long and sometimes the sun never seems to set on a landscape that can be more than 20 degrees below zero much of the year, nice warm corners to eat a good meal or drink a nice brew are highly prized.

Now that the delightful John O'Hurley has opened as King Arthur, we do not have the same hectic schedule of rehearsals we were doing prior to the layoff. So Anchorage has been a place for quiet contemplation and lazy days of exploration, with plenty of free time to rest. The Anchorage Museum, regrettably, does not open until May, but I have had the pleasure of exploring some very nice art galleries featuring local artists, most choosing as their subjects the natural beauty of the region and the art of the indigenous cultures. Next week, a few of us are renting a car and driving out to view the glaciers and other wonders of the surrounding landscape. Full report and photos on that next week, when we will complete our two week run here in Alaska, and I will reach the 500th performance mark with the "Spamalot" tour! Phew!

King Richard's Himself Again

2009-04-03T23:00:00.001-04:00

Week 69: Cleveland, OH

This week marked our last performances with Richard Chamberlain, as well as a landmark birthday for our reigning king--his 75th. I wish I could adequately express my admiration for "Mr. C." (as I have come to call him) and the work he has done with us in his three months with "Spamalot." He has been a study in devotion and personal discipline. He literally spent every day in his hotel room, resting and preparing for each performance; he ran through his entire show in his dressing room before going on every night. Richard is also an inspiration to those of us who aspire to longevity in our careers as actors: he is fit, vital, loves performing, and didn't miss a single one of his shows during his time with us. I hope that when I reach 75 I will be doing just what Mr. C. is doing, and will be as loved and respected as his fans have shown him to be, with a standing ovation each and every night. On our opening night here, Richard was presented with an enormous birthday cake on stage after curtain call in front of a cheering crowd. It was a great moment. I will miss Richard's kindness, gentleness and enthusiasm. All the best, always, Mr. C.

When we arrived in Cleveland, it was still in the grip of winter, but as the week has progressed, the weather has gotten more and more springlike. However, Cleveland is vying with Oklahoma City for windiest city I have been to on this tour. The gusts that whip across the city off Lake Erie are something fierce. Cleveland has a nice, solid look and has many large, imposing neoclassical pre-war buildings and impressive monuments. These are the result of the 1903 Group Plan, and constitute one of the most complete examples of "City Beautiful" design in the United States. We are staying in Playhouse Square, where our theatre, The Palace, shares the district with the Ohio, Allen, State and Hanna theatres, making it the largest U.S. performing arts center, after Lincoln Center in New York.
Cleveland is a theatre town, with two large regional theatres and numerous other performing arts institutions. The Palace is a magnificent theatre, originally built in 1922 as a vaudeville circuit theatre, in the French Renaissance style, with rose damask walls and Carrara Marble, crystal chandeliers and a glorious domed ceiling medallion. With its more than 3,000 seats and the opulence of its interior, it is one of the finest theatres I have played in my months on this tour.

On Wednesday I went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
Why, you may ask, is this venerable institution in Cleveland? Well, in the 1950s, legendary DJ Alan Freed coined the term "rock and roll" to describe the upbeat rhythm and blues music by black artists which he was then promoting on his popular Cleveland radio program. Thus, Cleveland became the birthplace of rock and roll. The Hall of Fame is a magnificent complex, housed in what looks like a glass pyramid perched on the edge of Lake Erie. It is an overwhelming collection of memorabilia and artifacts, interactive displays and multi-media installations spanning the entire history of rock and roll, from its roots in the blues and gospel music through the decades. In short, it is the Smithsonian of rock and roll music. One needs far more than the two hours I allotted myself to explore the museum, and after a while my head began to swim from all the stimulation, both visual and aural. I loved seeing the stage costumes of some of the greats of popular music, from Madonna's bustiers, to Michael Jackson's rhinestone studded white glove, to David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust costumes.
My two favorite things in the Hall of Fame were: a film instillation called "Video Killed the Radio Star" which is a brilliantly edited exploration of the impact of the music video both on music and popular culture--really fantastic piece of film making, presented on multiple screens in a dazzling display; and a small piece of history--a handwritten letter from Dusty Springfield to her producer regarding the songs she was choosing to record for her legendary "Dusty in Memphis" album. This album is a masterpiece and one of my favorites of all time, and to see this early bit of creative conception from one of my absolutely favorite artists was a real treat. Goosebumps! The current special exhibition is on Bruce Springsteen, and chronicles his career via some wonderful memorabilia, much of it from The Boss's own collection. There was a quote from him in the exhibit that really resonated with me, so I wrote it down:

I believe that the life of a Rock and Roll band will last as long as you look down into the audience and can see yourself, and your audience looks up at you and can see themselves, and as long as those reflections are human, realistic ones.

Words to work by for any live performer, in my opinion. Check out the Hall of Fame when you are next in Cleveland. By revisiting the history of American music, we find that we are exploring the history of Americans. Very cool.

On a rainy afternoon I went out via public transport, through the sprawling Case Western Reserve University campus, to the Cleveland Museum of Art. The museum is undergoing extensive renovations at this time, so a good portion of the collection was closed to the public; nevertheless, what was accessible was well worth the trip. The highlight of my visit was the current special exhibition of the captivating photography of Lee Friedlander. I think I have mentioned before my love of photography, and my enjoyment of taking photos myself. I have also mentioned that one of the pleasures of traveling and seeing as much art as I have been fortunate enough to see, is the discovery of artists whose work really excites me and makes me an instant fan. I had this experience with photographer Andre Kertesz, and now I am completely enamored of Friedlander.
Many may know his work for his wonderful portraits of famous musicians like Aretha Franklin and Miles Davis, but Friedlander's range extends far beyond portraiture-- to incredible landscape photography, to the capturing of remarkable images of American life through a unique and sublimely wise and ironic eye. His self portraits are wonderful, and are often simply his capturing of his own shadow projected on to a person or place he is photographing. He loves to view things in layers, calling our attention not just to the central subject of a photo, but forcing us to view it through reflective glass, or beyond obstructions in the foreground, or in contrast with other elements in the frame. I just loved seeing his work, which ranges from gritty candid moments to sublime, sensual images of nature. I found myself laughing out loud at the unique moments that his subtly humorous eye captures. I related strongly to his vision, and was inspired to take more photos myself--and I think all great artists inspire others to want to view life in their own particular way, and to create. I love this quote from Friedlander, which gives real insight to his artistic view:

I only wanted Uncle Vern standing by his new car... on a clear day, I got him and the car. I also got a bit of Aunt Mary's laundry and Beau Jack, the dog, peeing on a fence, and... seventy-eight trees and a million pebbles in the driveway and more. It's a generous medium, photography.

--Lee Friedlander, 1996

No trip to a fine art museum for me would be complete without exploring what they have from the Baroque period. One really beautiful gallery contrasts the opposing movements of the period: Naturalism, as exemplified by Caravaggio, and Idealism, as represented by Guido Reni and his followers.
Obviously, I prefer the more dramatic, full blooded work of the Naturalists, and was delighted to see that the museum possesses a Caravaggio, "The Crucifixion of St. Andrew." With unflinching honesty and an understanding of the human form in all its complexity, the master gives us a scene of rich, earthy power. Other favorites of mine in the Cleveland collection are the completely delicious "Cupid and Psyche" by David, a portrait of a mischievous adolescent boy rising from the bed of pleasure, where his ivory skinned lover lies sleeping. Cupid looks straight out at us with a grin and a decided twinkle in his eye, which makes this painting wonderfully naughty. I also fell for a small portrait by 18th century French artist Nicholas de Largillierre, of the Comte de Richbourg-le-Toureil.
Eschewing the notion of idealizing his subject, de Largillierre gives us a strong, optimistic young man with a slight shadow of a beard, wonderfully textured clothes, and even the fallout of white dust on his shoulders from his fashionably powdered hair. I find it most fascinating to notice what an artist chooses to include within the frame of his image (whether photograph or painting) and what he leaves out.

Beverly is my Cleveland dresser.
She has been working in wardrobe for 40 years and dressed Sir Robin the first time the tour came through two years ago. It is always a pleasure to work with the seasoned pros who have dedicated a lifetime to the work of the theatre. Well, that's it for Cleveland. We are all very much looking forward to our week off next week before our two week engagement in Anchorage, Alaska, where we hope we will not be buried in molten lava from the increasingly restless Mount Redoubt. More in two weeks, friends, from Anchorage.

The Man Who Would Be King

2009-03-28T17:00:00.000-04:00

Week 68: Wilmington, DE

This week we began rehearsing with John O'Hurley, who will be our new King Arthur until at least the fall. While he doesn't begin performing with us until our opening in Anchorage in a few weeks, he came to Wilmington to work with us this week. "Spamalot" is not new to John, as he was the star of the Las Vegas production at Wynn Casino which closed last summer. He has most recently been playing Billy Flynn with the tour of "Chicago." You will know Mr. O'Hurley from his many television appearances, which range from playing the role of J. Peterman on "Seinfeld," to winning the first season of "Dancing With the Stars" in a controversial "dance-off," to hosting several game shows, including "Family Feud." But this versatile and accomplished man has far more to his credit than that. He is a successful voiceover artist, providing the voices for many cartoons and video games; he is a venture capitalist and principal partner in two companies; he is an accomplished musician and composer, with a CD out of his cello and piano compositions; he is a motivational speaker and the creator of products for corporations to increase productivity and customer satisfaction; he maintains a single digit handicap in golf; he is a published author; and he is a devoted husband and father. In short, John O'Hurley is THE MAN. He is larger than life in every way, and his Arthur is supremely dignified, ultimately befuddled, and as charming and charismatic as Mr. O'Hurley is himself. It will be great working with him.

We are performing this week in the historic DuPont Theatre in Wilmington.
Originally built as The Playhouse Theatre in 1913 as a venue for out of town tryouts of shows heading to Broadway, the DuPont has the distinction of being the tiniest theatre we have played since I joined the tour. The house itself is lovely and intimate, about 1200 seats, but the back stage areas are cramped and claustrophobic. My dressing room is like a small train compartment in which I have to stand to do my makeup; the stage door opens out into the lobby, and all week I have left work and come smack dab into a crowd of patrons! The theatre is housed in the swanky DuPont Hotel and is of course a popular destination here; the sold out houses have been most gratifying.

Wilmington itself has a rich history. More than a hundred years ago, it was the center of the iron and steel industry in America and a major shipbuilding hub, with foundries and factories lining the Christina River (named for Queen Christina of Sweden by the Swedes who originally settled here). Today, Wilmington is the center of the credit card industry, and the banks of the Christina River are now an attractive river walk, lined with restaurants, condos and a farmer's market. Great care has been taken in the development of the riverfront, and the marshes and wetlands on the river have been meticulously preserved to support wildlife and the flocks of migratory birds that are attracted to the area. Wilmington was an important player in African-American history.
During the Civil War, it was a treacherous and crucial passage through which the Underground Railroad operated, with heroes like Harriet Tubman leading the courageous effort to bring southern slaves to freedom in the north. Despite these efforts, criminal gangs successfully abducted free slaves, selling them back into slavery down south, a shameful part of Wilmington's history which is movingly remembered in a monument on the Riverwalk. In fact, African Americans are further honored with Harriet Tubman Park and public ways named after Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, Jr. Today, Wilmington seems to have a large black community and it's great to see their cultural history being honored in this way. My favorite discovery, in my early morning walks through Wilmington, was the architectural cornucopia that is Market Street, the main business strip leading up from the railroad station and riverfront. The street still retains much of the feeling it must have had as travelers ascended the hill carrying their carpet bags in the 19th century. It is lined with a wonderful collection of buildings from various periods, from the carefully preserved 18th century houses on Willingtown Square, to ornate late 19th and early 20th century structures, to some marvelous streamlined examples of Art Deco design.
While many of these old buildings are boarded up and crumbling, one can see the efforts to restore these great structures, particularly in the Lower Market Design District, which is revitalizing this historic street. Perhaps the most imposing of the architectural features of Market Street is the Grand Opera House, its white gingerbread facade creating a fanciful effect, especially at night, when it is washed with lights in shifting rainbow colors.

I have received a couple more questions via my website regarding touring life, and thought I would answer them here this week. Just a note to those of you who want to send me a personal message or a question--rather than posting a comment here on the blog, shoot me an email instead at james@jamesbeaman.com.

One reader asks:

Got a cosmetic question for you -- I noticed in one of your pics, MAC was on the table. Is that usually the best make up to use for those who appear on stage and/or tv?

Our wig and hair department supplies all the makeup we need for the show, and they use a combination of MAC and Makeup For Ever, which is a French brand. For specialty things, like the "dirt" we use on our faces in the early scenes, we use products from Ben Nye, which is a tried and true theatrical makeup company. MAC does make products suitable for stage work, and of course they have a great many products and choices. MAC was started by a group of professional makeup artists in Canada and was bought out several years ago by Estee Lauder. When I played the lead in "La Cage Aux Folles" a few years ago, MAC "sponsored" me and provided me with all of my makeup for the show.

Wendy writes:

My family saw Spamalot 'way back in frigid Peoria in January and loved it! My husband has been reading your blog on his lunchbreaks since then and is now all caught up. One thing we wondered - do the musicians tour with the show, or do you use 'local' musicians at each city? My sons both play instruments and they always want to know about other musicians.

Our tour travels right now with a drummer, a trumpet player, and two keyboard players, plus our conductor. The rest of the orchestra is jobbed in in each city, and I believe five additional musicians are hired: a woodwind player, a bass player, guitarist, violinist, and an additional brass player. When we have our longer runs in California this summer we will only be bringing with us our two keyboard players and the rest of the orchestra will be local, per the rules of the union out there.

Danielle is my Wilmington dresser.
She is primarily a costume, wig and makeup designer and works with the theatre department at University of Delaware as well as the Delaware Theatre Company. While she works wardrobe for us, she is busy creating wigs for three shows at once. Industrious girl! Well, folks, Wilmington has been a busy week. We have had some intensive rehearsals with Casey Nicholaw, the original choreographer of the show, in anticipation of our highly publicized openings in San Francisco and L.A., in addition to the company rehearsals to integrate John O'Hurley into our production. After our Cleveland engagement next week, we all get a blessed week off!

The 'Burbs

2009-03-20T23:00:00.000-04:00

Week 67: Atlanta, GA

When you travel as much as I have been, certain absurdities about the travel industry become just part of the drill. Airport security, with its usual series of indignities, has led me to become what they call an "expert traveler." No belt on travel day, slip on shoes for easy removal, my lip balm and toothpaste in regulation ziploc bag. But certain aspects of airline travel nowadays just get up my nose. The most glaring example of gouging imaginable is the new baggage fees.
Airlines now charge you an "excess baggage fee" just for having checked baggage. Used to be no charge for the first bag, a nominal fee for the second bag checked. Not so anymore. You have to pay just to have luggage. And not only that, if your bag is even one pound over the limit of 50 pounds, you pay an exorbitant fee. On Delta, flying from Austin to Atlanta, I paid $15 for my first bag, $25 for my second bag, and because my suitcase was three pounds overweight, I was charged $90. That's $30 per pound. In all, the fees came to $130, enough to have bought an extra plane ticket. Now, our company covers these charges, as our union requires them to transport a certain amount of baggage for us, but nevertheless these fees are pure GREED on the part of the airlines and are an outrage. End of diatribe.

Atlanta, as you may know, is not merely a city. It is a region. Downtown Atlanta is a small fraction of what makes up the Atlanta metropolitan area, which is made up of a plethora of counties and communities that sprawl in every direction. We are playing Atlanta this week, but technically we are in Cobb County--northwest of Atlanta--in an area called Cumberland, which is kinda-sorta part of Smyrna. In short, we are in the suburbs of Atlanta. The reason for our being out here in the land of malls, shopping centers, and office parks is our snazzy venue, The Cobb Energy Performing Arts Centre.
This state of the art facility opened less than two years ago and is an impressive structure of enormous glass tiers rising in stylized "waves", with a multi-story grand facade that offers a view at night of the alabaster grand staircase and massive gold and Murano glass chandeliers in the style of Dale Chihuly. It's a very beautiful venue which just happens to be a half hour outside of Atlanta in an affluent suburb. Because our hotel is within walking distance of the theatre, we have no company vehicles this week, so there's not a whole lot to do out here except eat at chain restaurants and shop.

Our opening night was made a bit more special than usual by a visit from none other than Clay Aiken. Clay drove six hours in order to see his good friend Merle Dandridge, with whom he performed in "Spamalot" on Broadway. I admit that when I heard he was out front, I got a couple butterflies; one always feels that extra scrutiny from another performer who has played the same part. But turnabout is fair play--I got to see Clay perform when I was in New York last fall-- and I was actually delighted to show him my take on Sir Robin. He stopped back stage after the performance and was very complimentary to me. It was nice to see him again, and what a good friend he is to come and see his buddy Merle strut her stuff.

On the glorious first day of spring this Friday, I took the public bus downtown to visit the High Museum of Art. The museum was hosting two special exhibitions, one about the Louvre and the other an army of terra cotta soldiers from China. Both had long lines for tickets and to see the exhibits and I am not one to be pushed through an art show with a crowd of people. I opted to visit the permanent collection, which I found rather meagre. The museum itself is very modern looking; vast stark white atria with a series of ascending ramps connecting floors, similar to the Guggenheim in New York. What alarmed me was that the gallery spaces were all fairly wide open with no real climate control within each space, and with the natural light flooding in from the large windows on every floor, I worried about the preservation of the artworks, being exposed to these factors. I was also really concerned that the paintings seemed poorly supervised. The vinyl transfer captions on the walls next to each piece were peeling and rubbed away in places, and the walls themselves marked with grimy fingerprints. I shudder to think that priceless artworks are being handled by thoughtless fingers. Anyway, there were some nice pieces in the collection, including some representatives of French impressionism, including Monet, Renoir, Camille-Corot; some nice decorative art pieces from Louis Comfort Tiffany and Frank Lloyd Wright, and a few nice Renaissance pieces including a fine Madonna and Child by Bellini. The one representative of the Carravagist school was Nicolas Tournier, and his Denial of St. Peter. A French painter who lived and worked in Rome, he was clearly influenced by Caravaggio; all the hallmarks of the school are present in this work: the anachronistic costumes and dramatic gestures of the figures, and the sculpting of light and shadow. My favorite piece in the High collection is a small, wonderfully spontaneous portrait by John Singer Sargent of his friend Ralph Curtis, on the beach at Scheveningen. The piece was clearly created on the spot on the beach, as evidenced by the grains of sand embedded in the paint. It's a free and happy small masterwork, by a portraitist who usually worked in a larger scale, more formal style.

Check it out! Two lovely fans from Huntsville, Brooke and Jenni, who took our show to their hearts when we played there (and me and Ben Davis in particular), drove all the way to Atlanta to see us again.
It's amazing that they are so enthusiastic that they would come all that way. What's more, they made, with their own hands, this fantastic "action figure" of me as Sir Robin, complete with chicken tabard, studded gloves and floppy red wig. It is one of the dearest and loveliest things ever, and even sweeter because they made it themselves to thank me for my work in the show. My new "mini me" will travel with my makeup kit and sit on every dressing table from now on. And when I am back home in New York, he will become a new addition to my Christmas tree. Many thanks to you, Brooke and Jenni, for your kindness and support!! You rock.

My dresser at the Cobb Energy Centre is Kelley.
Kelley dressed Robin and Patsy when the tour played the Fox Theatre in Atlanta a couple years ago, so she knows the tracks well, but her finesse and expertise are in the blood. Kelley is a third generation wardrobe worker, following in the family business of stage hand work which started with her grandparents. In short, she was born to do this, and she is the epitome of calm and skill. Kelley works mainly with the Atlanta Opera, which is in residence at the theatre, and she says we are the first big musical road company to play the venue. The 2,700 seat theatre has been quite full this week and the audiences have been great. Our next stop is Wilmington, Delaware, where we will meet the man who will be our next King Arthur, John O'Hurley. We have two more weeks with our beloved Richard Chamberlain, and then a one week layoff before we head to the west coast.

Keeping it Weird

2009-03-14T00:08:00.002-04:00

Week 66: Austin, TX

I have a soft spot for Austin. Six years ago, I did Terrence McNally's "Love! Valour! Compassion!" here at Zach Scott Theatre Center. It was a wonderful production of a great play and I had the marvelous role of Buzz, who is the comic center of the piece. It was a blast, and during the two months I was here I got to know and love Austin. An oasis of liberalism in the heart of Texas, Austin is it's own special world. It's a college town, home to University of Texas Austin (where we are performing this week at gigantic Bass Concert Hall), and a hub of live music, art, culture and creativity of all stripes. The city's slogan is "Keep Austin Weird," and in a way it's fitting. I love the diversity here, the funky neighborhoods, the open minded attitudes and the great music and food. I have had the chance to revisit some of my favorite haunts, especially the fabulous restaurants.
Chuy's (the original location on Barton Springs) is where you go for outrageously good Tex-Mex and kitschy homage to Elvis Presley. I have yet to have a tortilla soup as splendid as theirs. And for the best burger in Austin, it's Hut's, in the same location since 1939 and full of old diner memorabilia. I had a Richie Valens burger, overflowing with grated cheese, tomatoes, jalapenos, and guacamole. So much for the diet. The shopping is great here, as is the nightlife, and the "Spamalot" tour had it's own special Austin celebration when we marked our three year anniversary this week.

We had a special brush up rehearsal this Thursday to polish up the music and choreography of the show. It was a nice opportunity for us all to get into a rehearsal hall together and reconnect with the work we do without the pressures of the audience out front. And a chance to just enjoy working together and refining what we do. Our stage manager Ken started the rehearsal by telling us that our Austin reviews were stellar and remarking that in all the time he has been on this tour he has only read one mixed review of our production. And he praised all of us for continuing to present a fine, committed, high energy show each and every time we get out there. This affirmation added to the sense of camaraderie and enjoyment we enjoyed in rehearsal this week, as well as to the celebration of our anniversary at Moonshine bar and restaurant, where we had great food and drink and stomped our feet to the fabulous sounds of Bluegrass band Milkdrive.
A great time was had by all. Here's Mr. Chamberlain and Mr. Connell enjoying some party grub and camping it up for the camera. Sometimes in the thick of the whole relentless touring thing, it is easy to forget how lucky we all are to work within such a great group of people.

The annual South By Southwest Festival begins this weekend, with a film festival and an extensive lineup of live music events. You can feel the energy in the streets. Austin is definitely a place where things are happening, where people go out every night of the week, and where creative people are doing their own thing. There is art everywhere, from the tattoo parlors to the art and craft galleries, to the Austin Museum of Art. I ventured in this cold, rainy Friday and enjoyed a really beautiful exhibit of photography by Clifford Ross. Ross is a landscape photographer whose work spans from the realistic to the abstract. My favorites of his images were his series of surging waves captured by Ross during hurricanes along the Long Island coast. The majesty of these foaming towers of water, frozen in vivid tones of white and gray, is really captivating. I was glad to have a chance to catch a little bit of art in Austin this week.

The Austin crowds have been big, boisterous and appreciative and it has been a blast to perform here! Bass Concert Hall is enormous and it has been gratifying indeed to see those packed houses. My dresser this week is Trinka.
Trinka tells me her name is a Slavic derivative of Katherine, and Trinka is as unusual as her name. With a bright, eccentric personality, she goes about her job with a smile, answering in the affirmative with her chirpy "Yup-per!". She fell into wardrobe work when she was the driver for singers in the local opera company. One night she dropped her charges off at the theatre and was asked to fill in last minute as a dresser when the crew was shorthanded. She has not left the wardrobe world since. She's been great fun to work with. I wish we had more time in Austin for me to retrace all my favorite places here and discover new ones. But I know I will be back here. It's a great town. We are off to Atlanta next week--see you there!

Lush Life

2009-03-06T22:18:00.001-05:00

Week 65: Tampa, FL

Some stops on our tour feel like resort vacations rather than work. Tampa is one such. Pristine, sleek, the city embodies everything I imagine a Floridian city to be. It's elegantly situated by water on many sides; it seems to all have been designed by the same architectural firm and been fabricated overnight. Reflective glass, creamy sherbet colors and lush plantings of palms, hibiscus, and bougainvillea. Our gym this week is over a bridge in chi-chi Harbour Island, all impeccable landscaping and gated communities, and my spacious room at the Sheraton Riverwalk Hotel has a balcony overlooking the Hillsborough River, with a view beyond it to the most eccentric feature of the Tampa skyline.

Plant Hall at the University of Tampa was built originally in the late 19th century by a wealthy magnate, Henry B. Plant, as the Tampa Bay Hotel.
This over the top fantasy castle in the "Moorish" style was meant to outdo any luxury resort up to that time. It rises five stories, with spires topped with silver minarets tipped with crescent moons. It has over 5000 rooms and was the vacation home for luminaries like U.S. Grant, Teddy Roosevelt and Sarah Bernhardt. Now it is the main classroom building of the University, but, framed by flamboyant palms and silhouetted against a hot pink Floridian sunset, it looks like something out of The Arabian Nights.

On Friday, I took an adorable streetcar to historic Ybor City.
This, the Latin Quarter of Tampa, was established in the 1880s by a cigar manufacturer from Cuba, attracting Cuban, Spanish, and Italian immigrants, who came to Ybor City to work in the cigar trade. Today, this national historic district retains its multi-ethnic flavor, but like most re-gentrified ethnic neighborhoods, is also home now to the "funkier" element of Tampa--with gay clubs, artist's studios, tattoo and piercing shops, and a lively nightclub scene. The two story brick buildings, with their upper galleries framed in wrought iron railings are reminiscent of New Orleans, while the Latin music and cigar smoke wafting out on to the street speak to the neighborhood's Cuban roots. The only real eyesore in this charming neighborhood is the Centro Ybor outdoor mall, a tourist destination with all the familiar and tiresome American mall businesses like Urban Outfitters, Claire's Accessories, Starbucks. Americans simply cannot go to a new place and explore without having the security blanket of these ubiquitous temples of commercialism. Tacky. Hungry for an authentic experience and some real Cuban food, I wended my way to the Columbia Restaurant, a Tampa institution for over 100 years.
This popular (and noisy) eatery with its painted tile facade and wacky, overdone Spanish interior, serves some really stellar traditional food. I opted for the "El Combo de Cuba," with roast pork, rice and beans, empanada and fried plantains. Absolutely delicious. Despite the more touristy aspects of Ybor City, I am glad that Tampa has supported the ongoing life of this historic district and has encouraged commerce and tourism (even with the tacky mall shops). I wish more cities would invest in the heritage of their old neighborhoods. For example, I am waiting for someone enterprising to revive Coney Island in Brooklyn and bring it back to its former glory.

I love answering your questions about road life, but haven't had any in a while. This week, Jeff asked:

How much or does the change in weather and or venue change your performances?

Well, going from one climate to another definitely has an effect on one's health and energy levels. I have terrible seasonal allergies and asthma, and moving from the cold weather in the midwest to the warming spring of Florida had a real impact on my sinuses and bronchial tubes. That said, the warmer climate is more relaxing and rejuvenating. In terms of the effect of the venue on the performance, there are things to be adapted to in each theatre. Some theatres are enormous and the audience can be very far away from us. This requires us to really reach out with our energy and to bring a larger physical presence to our performances. Different spaces have different acoustics; sometimes we can hear ourselves perfectly and sometimes it is hard to find the balance between us and the orchestra. Some theatres are overheated; some underheated. Sometimes the climate on stage is so dry that we are guzzling water all night, sometimes it is so humid that I have sweated through my costume within minutes of starting the show. All of these things require our flexibility and good humor, but they also keep us on our toes.

My inner art lover was thwarted this week, as both the Tampa Museum of Art and the Florida Museum of Photographic Arts were closed. Drat. I had to console myself with lounging by the pool, working out at our swanky gym... all right, smack me now, I know! We are performing at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center, a huge complex with a loyal following of theatre lovers. Richard has been received particularly warmly here, and it's been a good run.
I was reunited with Ann, my dresser from last year in Clearwater (lord, time flies). You may recall that Ann had been a competitive figure skater in her youth. She still has that elegant posture and bearing and is she ever the most impeccable pro! It's wild that I have been on this tour now long enough that I am repeating dressers. I am excited that our next stop is Austin, Texas! I did a play in Austin a few years ago and it is a good time town. I am so looking forward to a little two step, a little push-tush. See y'all in Texas.

From Rocket City to the Space Coast

2009-02-27T23:08:00.003-05:00

Week 64: Melbourne, FL

I apologize in advance. This will probably prove to be the most boring blog post I have yet published. Mea Culpa. Problem is, I have not done a whole lot here in Melbourne this week! Our hotel is, as it frequently can be, on a highway. Everything has to be driven to and I am carpooling again this week. So I have not gotten around much. That said, just to be in a climate, at long last, where you can wear shorts and a t-shirt is in itself an event!

On Friday, my Aunt Nancy and Uncle Larry came by and whisked me off to their vacation condo on Satellite Beach.
This was my only opportunity to get to the beach this week and it was made doubly pleasurable by the opportunity to see my relatives. Nancy and Larry are enjoying a glorious retirement. These folks get around! They travel all the time and drive from one end of the US to the other. They have been coming to this part of Florida for almost a decade every year. Their place is right on the water and I imagine falling asleep and waking up to the sound of the surf right under one's window must be heavenly. I have a special connection to beaches and to the sea. I think all people who grew up, as I did, on a coastline, respond with a deep intuitive feeling to the ocean. My aunt and uncle strolled for a while on the sand with me (they are inspiringly appreciative of all of nature, pointing out the various sea birds, the colors of the sea and sky, and other beauties) and then let me walk on myself. There is something deeply healing about a long walk on a beach--the lull of the steady surf in your ears, the fresh salt air, the sun on your back and the feel of your feet sinking in the sand or plashing through the water's edge. My mother taught me the therapeutic and spiritually renewing value of a long beach walk. It was something we did a lot together as I was growing up in New England. And for Mom, that ritual was something that she made time for when we were kids, driving up to Maine, taking a motel room for me and my siblings and herself, just so she could get up at dawn and "walk the beach." It was there, with the sea whispering to her, that she sorted out the tough decisions of her life, said a silent prayer, visualized her future. Walking on Satellite Beach allowed me the time to think about how far I have come in the past year or two, and to contemplate where my next steps will take me.

We've had delightful audiences here in Melbourne at the Maxwell C. King Center for the Performing Arts. Both audience members and press have remarked on what a tonic "Spamalot" is for people immersed in the gloom and anxiety of our country's economic dilemma. Just to get out amongst a group of other human beings and laugh for two hours seems to be what the doctor ordered. It feels good to provide that relief for people. I firmly believe that we will pull ourselves out of this difficult time. It's important to stay positive and, yes, look on "the bright side." My dresser in Melbourne has been the lovely Christine.
Christine lived in Norway most of her life and has been in the states for a couple of years. She is by trade a lighting person/electrician, but the nature of stagehand work is that you take whatever employment is available. So this week Christine gets to operate zippers instead of lighting boards. Thanks for taking good care of me and Jeff Dumas this week, Christine! And with that folks, we wrap up our weekend here and move on to Tampa on Monday. Maybe I will have a better story to share next week, or at the very least, have a tan line.

Sudden Spring

2009-02-20T23:00:00.003-05:00

Week 63: Hunstville, AL

The only thing I regret about my past is the length of it.
If I had to live my life again, I'd make the same mistakes, only sooner.
--Tallulah Bankhead

After the shameful dilapidation and neglect of Detroit, there couldn't be a starker contrast than picturesque Huntsville. Civic pride is everywhere here; the streets, parks and buildings pristine and meticulously clean. Citations for "beautification" from the city are posted everywhere. It's so clean, the only graffiti I have seen here is one sentence scrawled in magic marker on the side of a building that reads, "Beauty is all around, waiting to be found!" Huntsville is sort of the epitome of a small Southern city--it reminds me a bit of Greenville, S.C. but not quite as hip and artsy. Our hotel and our venue, the Von Braun Civic Center, lie adjacent to charming Big Spring Park, which is beautifully landscaped, its pond inhabited by migratory flocks of geese.
The Hunstville Museum of Art is also located in the park. The handsome building is about ten years old, and while it seems to have a great deal of public support, it has no permanent collection on display and the current exhibits I found rather meagre and not especially interesting; although there was a collection of silver animals executed in exquisite detail by the Italian silver artisans at the House of Buccellati. The museum seems mainly to be a venue for events and weddings. Yet, Huntsville's true art exhibition is its extraordinary historic districts full of magnificent Federalist and antebellum homes.

On Wednesday of this week there was a sudden heat wave. The temperature rose into the 70's with humid balmy breezes and bright sunshine. I saw my first robins of spring as I roamed the Twickenham and Old Town Historic Districts, marveling at the period homes, all immaculately restored and wonderfully maintained. One historic home is open to the public and I stopped in for a very entertaining tour.
The Howard Weeden House was built in 1819 and was home to artist and poet Maria Howard Weeden. Weeden was born in the house, but her family had to flee when Union soldiers commandeered the home during the Civil War. Upon the return of the Weeden family, the house had been looted and the family was impoverished. Maria (who was called by her middle name, "Howard") had a talent for art and for writing and she became fascinated by the African American ex-slaves who lived in the Huntsville area. She began painting sensitive and finely executed portraits of various black inhabitants of the town, and published several books of her paintings which were accompanied by poems and "ballads" that Weeden wrote based upon the stories told to her by these early African Americans. The poems are written in the original dialect and are meant to capture the essence of the slave vernacular with authenticity and affection. Unfortunately her works are not only largely forgotten but there have been efforts to suppress them as being disrespectful to African Americans.
However, Weeden House director Barbara Lauster-Scott has great reverence for these works and has devoted herself to educating the public about Howard Weeden and her legacy, while single handedly keeping this historic home operating as a museum. Barbara alone is worth the $5 admission fee! A charming, articulate woman with a delightful sense of humor and a rich Southern drawl, Barbara can recite all 200 of Weeden's poems and gave us a sampling of them during our tour. She regaled us with history, ghost stories about specters seen and heard within the house, and delightful tales of the visitors who have passed through the museum. We were allowed to roam the house and take photographs following Barbara's 25 minute lecture. Regrettably, the museum receives no public funding and so the house is in disrepair and badly in need of restoration and refurbishment. The few objects and pieces of Federalist furniture are in a sorry state, although the house itself is a lovely early 19th century structure and there are several fine period portraits on display, as well as original etchings of Weeden's work. It seems to me that while that work is a reminder of the shameful history of slavery in America, it is also a record of a generation of African Americans that we otherwise wouldn't have; the paintings are so fine and so detailed that Selznick Studios used them as reference material for the design of the slave costumes in "Gone With the Wind." It's hard to believe that the State of Alabama, as well as organizations to preserve African American heritage, would not want to provide funding to keep this, the oldest historic home in Alabama that is continuously open to the public, in better condition for generations to come.

I suppose the most famous person to come out of Huntsville is the late, great Tallulah Bankhead.
This husky voiced, outrageous star from the golden age of Hollywood is one of my favorites. Her birthplace is still here, and there is a Bankhead Parkway, which is named after Tallulah's father, who was one of the leading citizens of Huntsville and a speaker in the House of Representatives. Tallulah started as a popular stage actress, originating many great roles including the viperous Southern belle Regina Giddons in "The Little Foxes," and went on to make many Hollywood films, most notably "Life Boat." She was famous for her cocaine habit and alcoholism, her bisexual antics, and for calling everyone 'Dahling'--which she admitted she did because she could never remember anyone's name. The anecdotes about Tallulah are legion (and I can pull any number of them out of a hat at parties, complete with vocal impressions of Bankhead), including the one in which she was meeting with Eleanor Roosevelt at the White House and had to use the toilet. She apparently kept the conversation going with the First Lady while seated on the pot with the door open! And this is one of the tamer tales of Tallulah's merry hijinks.

Huntsville has been nicknamed "Rocket City," as it is the home of the Marshall Space Flight Center and the Redstone Arsenal. There are also tourist and family attractions like the U.S. Space and Rocket Center and the U.S. Space Camp. Some of the company members took a "field trip" to the center to take a dip in the large tanks that the astronauts use for zero gravity training. I opted not to take the plunge, but I am sure a good, wet time was had by all. I have been content to keep a simple schedule, absorb the quaint beauties of the town and perform for the enthusiastic crowds our show has attracted here in Huntsville. As quickly as the spring weather came, it vanished, the temperature plummeting and bringing with it a chilly wind. It's easy to endure the nippy air as we are heading to Florida next week for two whole weeks. Big sigh! I also received good news this week that I will be continuing on with the tour at least until fall, which means the highly anticipated West Coast premiere of "Spamalot" in San Francisco and Los Angeles this summer! The adventure continues...

Look who it is!
I was reunited with my dresser from Birmingham this week, the lovely Sandy. Sandy is a salt of the earth lady, and I was so happy to work with her again this week. As I mentioned back in Birmingham, she is a cancer survivor and a union activist, as well as a talented interior decorator. She had her birthday this week and it was nice to be able to celebrate with her. Well, it's off to palm trees and balmy breezes. I don't mean to rub it in, honest, but the Florida weather will be a welcome change.

Urban Sprawl

2009-02-13T23:00:00.000-05:00

Week 62: Detroit, MI

Downtown Detroit is, I am sorry to say, a dying city. It is a depressed, desolate place in many ways. I have become friends with some local people who live outside the city limits and who despair of Detroit proper ever returning to a place of vitality and life. Detroit is a place that reflects the struggles of industry, the impact of the economy and the tragedy of a palpable racial divide. Life is very different 20 to 30 minutes in any direction outside of Motor City. The suburbs are thriving, self contained little communities. One such picturesque town is Birmingham, a neighboring community to Troy, where our hotels are. Ed, a new friend who lives in Birmingham, showed me around this affluent enclave, full of lakeside homes, trendy shops and quaint streets. We did some window shopping and I finally accepted my need for reading glasses and purchased a snazzy pair at Optik, a high end optical boutique. If I'm gonna get old, I am gonna do it in style!
Near Birmingham, in Bloomfield Hills, is the campus of Cranbrook, a private school and art academy on a beautiful stretch of ground with buildings designed by Eliel Saarinen in the Arts and Crafts style. The Cranbrook Museum of Art (which was regrettably closed the day we visited) is a lovely building, like a Greek temple in the Art Deco style, and surrounded by wonderful sculptures by Swedish sculptor Carl Milles. I am quite sure the Cranbrook campus is just lovely in warmer weather, with the trees in bloom and the fountains and reflecting pools in operation. It was nice to see this National Historic Landmark, even if only for few moments, and take some photos.

My week has mostly been taken up with the show, a photo shoot with renowned Broadway photographer Joan Marcus (who came out to shoot pictures of Richard Chamberlain and our other new principals), my workout schedule, my taxes, and enjoying the schizophrenic Michigan midwinter weather, which has ranged from humid days of pouring rain to icy deep freezes. During this time I have also had the pleasure of some quiet contemplation, and the joy of receiving some wonderful emails from audience members here in Detroit who have loved the show, and from dear new friends that I have made along the way as I have toured with the show. I find that I have been extraordinarily blessed to have been reached out to by some amazing people, who have shared their stories with me and who have renewed my faith in the spirit and the strength that are in all of us. You have reached out to me in kindness and generosity and have given me the gift of allowing me to touch your lives as well. It is easy these days to focus on the stress and anxiety that come with the challenges that our country and our world are facing. Easy to look at the deserted streets of Detroit, for example, and feel a sense of futility. But if we just reach out a little--allow our inner knowing to extend itself--we realize that these things are cyclical, that life ebbs and flows, and that out of the ashes of what is lost arises new life and new opportunity. As we pass through transitions like this, our greatest power is in our ability to be kind, loving, and generous with each other. I would like to think that, as an actor, I am privileged to reach out to so many more people with my enthusiasm, and my hope, and my love, than most get to do. The message of our show, underneath the sight gags and the glitter, is timely. "If life seems jolly rotten, there's something you've forgotten: and that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing." Thanks to all of you who have written and shared with me that what I do has lifted you up. I am so grateful to have the chance to share that with you.

Now, as sadly ruined as Detroit is there is still beauty. As you know, one of my determinations in life is to seek beauty everywhere I go. Thus my obsession with art museums. The Detroit Institute of the Arts does not disappoint. It's a really terrific museum with masterpieces from all periods. I feel that they work a little too hard at making the museum "visitor friendly" and educating people on art. Every gallery is full of interactive displays and many of the exhibits are designed to compare and contrast paintings from various artists and periods. While I am sure it makes museum going more educational and fun for kids, for me it was just distracting and cluttered and drew attention away from a simple appreciation of the work.
That said, my hunger for the Italian Baroque was wonderfully sated in the gallery devoted to the Carravagisti. At the glowing center of the collection is a piece by the master himself, Martha and Mary Magdalene, by Caravaggio. Luminous, rich, startlingly real, it is, as are all of his works, astonishing. I was even allowed to take flash free photos of the piece which was incredible. Alongside this masterwork are others by some of the most accomplished painters of the school, including one by Orazio Gentileschi and one by his daughter, Artemisia. The story of this wonderful Baroque painter, the first woman to be admitted into the Accademia di Arte del Disegno in Florence, is one of the great stories of classical art. There is a film called "Artemisia" that is well worth adding to your Netflix queue. Anyway, it was wonderful to see these representatives of my favorite school of art in Detroit. There are many more treasures in the DIA, including wonderful WPA murals by Diego Rivera, the famous Wedding Dance by Breughel, a marvelous collection of portraits by John Singleton Copley. They were showing a special exhibit of photographs of artists taken by other artists. Among the photographers represented were favorites of mine, like Andre Kertesz and George Platt Lynes. It does the soul good to see such a rich and varied trove of artistic wonders, even in a troubled city like Detroit. Thank you Ed, for taking me there and for a memorable afternoon.

Meet Pam, my wonderful Detroit dresser.
Pam is a continual surprise. With a gentle, unassuming personality and a quiet touch, she is also funny and stylish and irreverent. One evening after the show we were chatting about a post show drink, and she piped up that for her it would be a dirty martini-and a cigar! I was so tickled by that. Pam started in the wardrobe world as a stitcher at a young age and has done virtually every aspect of wardrobe work over a career of 30 years. She has grown kids and a husband and is now coming into that time (that hopefully we all come to) when it is time to focus on herself and doing things that are fulfilling and creative for Pam. I have been going through an introspective time of new understanding and spiritual growth and I have recognized a kindred spirit in Pam. Our conversations have really been a comfort and a pleasure during my time in Detroit. All the best to you Pam! We begin our Southern migration next week in Huntsville, Alabama. Here's to warmer climes and happy times.

Patsy Redux

2009-02-06T22:30:00.001-05:00

Week 61: Detroit, MI

With the departure of dear Brad Bradley, the "Spamalot" tour welcomes back Jeff Dumas as Patsy. Jeff was the original Patsy on the tour and spent two years performing the role on the road, earning himself a Helen Hayes Award for his portrayal along the way. Jeff is a supremely talented man, a true "triple threat"--actor, singer and dancer. And at 5'2" he makes me feel tall, which is rather nice for a change. Ha ha. Just joking. It's great to have Jeff back in the fold. As far as I am aware, this should be the last change of cast on the tour for a while; John O'Hurley will join us as King Arthur after Richard Chamberlain completes his three month run with us, but in the meantime we can settle a bit and allow the new people to jell with us.

Driving into Detroit for work from the somewhat cushy suburb of Troy, where we are staying for the next two weeks, one can see the signs of a failing local economy and a city in a difficult transition. Run down neighborhoods with boarded up houses and businesses, litter and graffiti, and dirty, abandoned streets are the landscape one passes through on the edges of this city. We are performing at the Fisher Theatre these two weeks in Detroit.
The theatre is housed in a fabulous Art Deco skyscraper built in 1928, which still retains its original barrel vaulted lobby, complete with mammoth Deco lighting fixtures, elaborate ceiling murals, and a design that incorporates forty different kinds of marble. The theatre was built as a vaudeville house in the same period and was originally decorated in an Aztec style, with Mexican-Indian artworks and live macaws that were allowed to roam free and eat out of patrons' hands!
After years of operating as a movie house, the theatre went through an extensive renovation in 1961 which gave it its current look. It is extremely dated, with walls decorated in big ovals made of pegboard, stipple painted in metallic gold and framed out with white moldings. It's pretty tacky, and appears even more so in contrast with the stunning Deco lobby. Take a gander at this vintage photo I found of the original theatre interior. Wow.

For those of you with an interest in the ongoing back stage life of the tour, and the ways in which our show is maintained, this week we had a visit from a dialect specialist who worked with each of the leading actors on our British accents. Yes, even after hundreds of performances, there is still room for improvement! Ben Furey, the dialect coach, is very highly regarded and works on many big scale projects including the Broadway production of "Billy Elliott." He is also a Brit, so his ear is especially tuned to the sound of the various English accents. I had an hour session with Ben, during which he was able to work with me on refining and fine tuning the sound of my various characters, differentiating a more upper class British sound for Sir Robin from a more working class or "Cockney" sound for the guards I play--and for Robin before he becomes a knight. I was happy to discover that most of what I have been doing is on the money. The adjustments Ben gave me really helped me to polish up my performance and to be more aware of the sounds I am making. I hope that this gives you a sense of how vigilant everyone is about making sure that our product is the very best quality it can be.

I wish I could say that I did a whole bunch of sightseeing and museum visiting this week in Detroit, but, alas, no. I have spent the week pretty much working out, organizing my 2008 tax papers and receipts (UGH) and doing the show. And a few driving lessons thrown in for good measure. Sometimes, even life on a national touring production is ho hum and routine! But there can be satisfaction in keeping a simple schedule. I'll tell you, though, I will be very glad when we have finished our wintry midwest portion of the tour and can enjoy a few weeks down south in more hospitable weather!! Hope this finds you well and staying warm wherever you are. More from Detroit next week.

400

2009-01-30T22:30:00.001-05:00

Week 60: Chicago, IL

Yep, this week I gave my 400th performance as Sir Robin. That's 800 screams, 1200 times I "shat my pants", 2800 times I had my wig put on and taken off, and 2000 knee slides. That's a lot of mileage on the ol' carcass.

My week started with a lovely day off; a Monday of luxuries. I started with a little mani/pedi--some of the other performers found a nail place with a grand opening special package and we all flocked in there to get sloughed, trimmed and buffed. Then I took a wintry walk up Michigan Avenue, the "Magnificent Mile," which is pretty much Chicago's answer to Fifth Avenue. Lined with impressive hotels, designer boutiques and glass enclosed malls, it is one of those rarefied stretches of American real estate dedicated to the elite and the wealthy. At the northernmost end of the Mile is the old world splendor of the Drake Hotel.
My buddy Tim met me to partake of the Drake's afternoon high tea, held in the swanky Palm Court, where a tinkling fountain and a fabulous harp player set the mood. And the veddy veddy English tradition is alive and well at the Drake, with tea cakes, scones, sandwiches, clotted cream and lemon curd, and an impressive menu of various teas and infusions. I nearly gave myself a heart attack with caffeine overload from many cups of sweet and strong Irish breakfast tea! It was a real delight, and one of the must-do things of Chicago.

Monday night I went out to the DePaul University campus to see a student theatrical production directed by my former acting teacher and friend, Catherine Weidner. She ran the Academy for Classical Acting in Washington where I got my graduate degree and is a marvelous person and a gifted teacher.
The students performing "Twelfth Night" at DePaul were third year undergrads of varying ability, but the production itself--performed bare bones with a few rudimentary props and costume pieces in the round in a rehearsal studio--was terrific. Catherine's cutting and interpretation of the play was fresh and honest and the performances were exuberant and energetic. She had a four piece jazz combo playing an original score composed by a graduate music student and they added vibrancy and energy to the show. In short, it was a delight. And I sat there, the big shot actor in the glittery Broadway national tour, and I realized I was jealous. These kids are just discovering what they can do and just digging in to Shakespeare and the craft of acting. They bring passion and wonderment to it and I know that the creative process that Catherine led them through was challenging and uplifting. I sat there, a bit misty eyed and applauding their work, and realized that I miss that collaboration that is the birthing of a piece of theatre. I am grateful and happy to be a part of "Spamalot" but as a replacement actor, I missed out on the initial collaboration that resulted in the piece we are performing. I love that first day of rehearsal when everyone comes to the project at the same level and discovers it together. Nothing like it.

One performer in "Spamalot" who has known that experience, as an original cast member of several Broadway shows, including ours, is Brad Bradley.
Brad leaves us this week after a year of playing Patsy on the road, but he has been in "Spamalot" since the very beginning of the production, and is, as far as I know, the last remaining original cast member to leave the production. Brad is a kind and gentle soul and a talented man who started dancing as a kid and is now making the transition from ensemble dancer to principal actor with grace and ability. I will definitely miss him and wish him all the best as he returns home to New York City.

This week couldn't pass without a visit to a museum! I went to the Museum of Contemporary Art on Tuesday, the free admission day sponsored by Target. The slogan of this museum is FEAR NO ART, and indeed the installations I saw there were fearless; some were political, confrontational, others were whimsical and deeply thought provoking. Jenny Holtzer employs electronic signs that scroll LED texts drawn from declassified government documents related to prisoners of war and US plans for the invasion of Iraq, while nearby, human bones are laid out in a sterile and systematic way on cold examination tables. Chilling. On the more whimsical side, there was a wonderful exhibit of pieces by Alexander Calder, featuring his signature mobiles and sculptural "objects" culled from found materials. My favorite installation was of works by Joseph Grigely.
Grigely was rendered deaf at the age of ten in an accident and has spent his life as an artist exploring the nature of communication, of various forms of "speech"--both spoken and gestural--and illuminating for the hearing his unique perceptions of the world. A lip reader, he sometimes employs scraps of paper when holding a conversation with someone to write things out for clarity. He saves these papers and then arranges them in wall pieces that become fascinating mosaics of thought and dialogue. He also did a really amusing video project with a choir singing familiar songs like "My Favorite Things" and "Silent Night;" he wrote out the words that he got from lip-reading the singers, showing how very imprecise this form of interpretation can be. And he recorded the choir singing both the original and the "new" lyrics, presenting a funny and touching contrast. It struck me, walking around this museum, which is, like many contemporary art museums, an exercise in negative space (vast white rooms occupied only marginally by the actual artworks), that the classical artists I love were exploring ways of interpreting the world they saw with their eyes and imaginations. Contemporary artists, many of them, are trying to explore the role of the artist himself. One school of art explored what they saw, and another explores the seer.

Meet Jeannie!
Jeannie is my dresser here in Chicago and she is a seasoned pro, having done this for 20 years. Her first show was "Starlight Express" (imagine dressing your first production and it's a musical on roller skates!) and since then she has worked with some of the top performers in show business, from Donny Osmond to Tony Curtis. Jeannie is a pistol--quick to laugh and joke around and just a bubbly, delightful gal. I am making the most of my last weekend in Chicago, with some nightclubbing and tickets to a show at the renowned Goodman Theatre. I really like this town, and I hope I will get to come back and explore it again soon. Detroit beckons... I am looking forward to bringing laughter to a community that has been hard hit by the economic setbacks our country has been suffering. More from Motown next week.

Broad Shoulders

2009-01-23T23:30:00.001-05:00

Week 59: Chicago, IL

In years to come, people will be asking each other, "Where were you on the historic day that Barack Obama was sworn in as President?" For my part, I was watching the inauguration on a Jet Blue flight from New York to Chicago, and just as Obama stepped up to the podium to make his speech, the plane pulled into the gate and the screen went dark. It was only later that I was able to catch the speech on the internet. Chicago was jubilant on inauguration day, celebrating the elevation of their senator from Illinois. There was definitely a vibration of hopefulness in the air.

Chicago is one of America's great cities and I am grateful that we are here for two whole weeks, so I can get around and taste of its many delights. The place speaks to the city boy in me; it has everything a metropolis should have. It's noisy, dirty, ethnically and culturally diverse. It abounds with art and theatre and culture of all kinds; even the architectural landscape of the city is a work of art. The extreme cold of the Chicago winter has inhibited my wanderings somewhat. I love exploring a city by plopping myself down in a neighborhood and strolling, discovering both the famous sights and the hidden gems by simply losing myself along the streets and byways of a place. It's hard to do that with the icy wind of the Chicago winter whipping you in the face. Nevertheless, I am undaunted, and plan to see as much as I can while I am here.

Our opening here in the Windy City was smashing. Our ebullient first night house received us with great roars of laughter and cheers and applause; a warm way to welcome Richard Chamberlain into our production.
We celebrated the opening at a reception held at a swanky Chicago restaurant, Petterino's, where I posed for this shot with Richard. Our venue here in Chicago is the generically named but opulently beautiful Auditorium Theatre, a massive concert hall style venue of more than 4,000 seats. This national historic landmark was the crowning achievement of architects Louis Sullivan and Dankmar Adler, completed in 1880. It is a grand venue of gleaming gold, vaulted ceilings, beaux arts murals, intricate mosaics and jewel encrusted stained glass windows. Standing on the stage and looking out into the house the first time was quite breathtaking. The Auditorium is just one of a treasure trove of architectural marvels in Chicago; I visited the Chicago Cultural Center this week, housed in a magnificent beaux arts building erected in 1897 as the first Chicago Public Library.
Sumptuous materials used in the interior design include rare imported marbles, fine hardwood, stained-glass, and polished brass, as well as mosaics of Favrile glass, colored stone and mother-of-pearl. The building's most notable features are its spectacular stained-glass domes. The 38-foot dome in the Preston Bradley Hall in the south end of the building is the world's largest Tiffany stained-glass dome, valued at an estimated $35 million. The Cultural Center houses the Chicago Visitor's Center, as well as a theatre space and banqueting rooms for special events.

And then there is the Art Institute of Chicago. It is, quite simply, an astonishment. One of the great museums, on a par with the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, this institution houses an extraordinary collection of art and antiquities from all periods, but is especially known for its extensive Impressionists collection as well as a remarkable collection of American art. Some of the most famous and recognizable paintings in the world are in this museum, and for an art lover there is that tingling frisson of excitement when one stands before Grant Wood's American Gothic, or Edward Hopper's iconic Nighthawks, or perhaps the most well-loved and most visited piece in the museum, Seurat's masterpiece A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, which inspired Sondheim's musical "Sunday in the Park with George." The impact of seeing these famous works was not lost on me, but I of course went in search of my favorite periods in art, particularly the Italian Baroque.
While the museum does not own a Caravaggio, there is a remarkable gallery of artists from the Caravaggio school, including Manfredi and Baglione, represented by works with mythological or religious themes executed in that almost photographic vividness of light and shadow that characterizes the school. I guess I love these paintings because they are like theatrical tableaux, posed carefully and lit dramatically, yet full of earthy vitality. I wandered through the Renaissance and Medieval galleries and, as if emerging from a deep and austere winter into a vibrant and sun dappled spring, I emerged in the Impressionist wing, where the flowers, fresh faces and daring color schemes of such masters as Van Gogh, Monet and Renoir seem to dance off the walls. Amazing. To give a catalogue of the many wonders of this incredible museum would take forever. You must visit if you find yourself in Chicago. One special surprise for me was the gallery containing the Thorne Miniature Rooms.
These 68 tiny interiors were the brainchild of socialite Mrs. James Ward Thorne, an avid collector of miniatures who studied architecture and conceived this rather mad project of assembling these minute rooms, each representing a period in European and American Architecture and interior design. Between 1930 and 1942, she commissioned a team of artisans to build the tiny furnishings, construct the rooms with their elaborate moldings and ceiling murals, and even hand needlepoint the miniature rugs. These are by no means little doll house rooms, these are painstakingly accurate reproductions of real rooms--like the most elaborate and well constructed tiny set models you have ever seen. They are so detailed one could spend hours in this one gallery eyeballing these things. Talk about a hobby gone wild! My day at the Art Institute was overwhelming and highly enjoyable and I plan to go back once more before I leave Chicago; the museum allows non-flash photography and I want to return with my camera.

Segue to my visit to the Museum of Contemporary Photography, just a stone's throw down Michigan Avenue from the Art Institute. The current show explores the photography of artists who capture the every day life of the modern workplace, the office environment. The exhibit included the work of Karen Yama , who photographs the little still lifes made up of personal items that workers arrange in their cubicles to personalize them; she then keeps the detail of the photos and objects that make up these tableaux and manipulates the backgrounds, flattening them and enhancing the plastic, impersonal quality of the sterile office environment. There was an amusing film installation that featured four New York lawyers in their suits performing a strange expressionistic sort of dance piece by the elevators in their firm offices. It was funny and striking at the same time.
The main focus of the exhibit was the work of Michael Wolf, and his project "The Transparent City," in which he photographed the skyscraper landscapes of Chicago office buildings and also focused in, voyeuristically, on the people he captured through the many windows of these towering geometric structures. He has a keen eye for detail and a fascination with capturing small gestures and everyday objects. His work really spoke to me.

Ah, there are so many things I want to do before leaving Chicago--visit Navy Pier, stroll along the Magnificent Mile and take tea at the Drake Hotel... we shall see how much I get to.
Part of this week was about rehearsing with our new Lady of the Lake, Merle Dandridge, who replaces Esther Stilwell and joins us from the most recent Broadway company of "Spamalot." Merle has played leading roles in "Aida," "Rent," "Tarzan," and is also, I am told, an award winning video game actress. She is a stunning young lady with a soaring, effortless voice--I got to see her performance in the Broadway company when I went to see Clay Aiken, and I was impressed by her diva attitude and her thrilling vocals. While we will miss our dear Esther when she leaves us next week, it is good to know that she has such a talented successor.

So, more from Chicago next week, friends. Aside from sightseeing and meeting up with some old friends, I am also going to get to see a performance at the Goodman Theatre of "Desire Under the Elms," starring Brian Dennehy. Chi-town has so much to offer; two weeks is not nearly enough to do it all.

Will It Play in Peoria?

2009-01-17T08:00:00.001-05:00

Week 58: Peoria, IL

Eight performances a week plus constant traveling make touring an endless grind that requires total discipline and the stamina of mountain goats... Playing a new city almost every week is a mixed blessing. It's fun discovering the unique character of various parts of the country, getting to know northerners and southerners and westerners in their differing environments... I was surprised to see, in all this traveling around, how homogenized our country has become. City after city, state after state, the same malls with the same shops and Cineplexes selling the same movies and clothes repeated themselves everywhere... it seemed like we'd keep getting on planes, fly a thousand miles, and then land in the same place.
--Richard Chamberlain, "Shattered Love"

Hail, fellow! Richard knows from where he speaks, having been in two enormously successful Broadway musical tours. If you have not read his memoir, I highly recommend it to you. I have always been an admirer of Richard's charisma, his talent and glamorous screen image, but I never knew the side of him that he reveals so powerfully in his book. Far from being a show biz memoir, this is an intensely personal revelation of his spiritual journey and an exploration of profound ideas. I admit that I picked up the book in order to have a better understanding of this star before beginning work with him; what he offered me was a better understanding of myself, at a time of powerful spiritual exploration and questioning in my own life. I am more excited than before to work with, and hopefully, get to know this remarkable man.

Back in the days of vaudeville, it was said that if an act succeeded in Peoria, it would succeed anywhere. Since those days, Peoria has continued to be a city used as a test market for new products, for stand-up comics and rock bands to try out new material, and even to gauge popular opinion in political races. The term "Heartland of America" was coined for this region of the country and Peoria is still considered to be "the test market capital of the world." Visually, Peoria is rather ho-hum; and the downtown area we are in is so much like other similar cities in America--somewhat busy during the work day and absolutely deserted at night. There is a nice riverfront section of town along the Illinois River, where our gym this week is located. However, with 7 degree temperatures, the ten minute walk to there from the hotel and back is a workout in itself! I grew up with seasons in Massachusetts, but the damp cold of a New England winter is nothing compared to the dry, deep, bone chilling cold of the Midwest. I have no idea how people exist here year in and year out.

So what can I tell ya? Not a whole lot to do in Peoria to begin with, and the record cold temperatures are limiting the agenda of activities.
My time has been taken up with working out, studying and rehearsing with Mr. Chamberlain, whose Arthur is going to be charming, regal and just lovely. We are performing at the Peoria Civic Center, designed in the early 80s by the renowned architect Philip Johnson. Three structures are enclosed within a streamlined glass arcade that presents a very pretty contrast to the Peoria City Hall building adjacent to it, an historic structure in a sort of neo-Renaissance style, circa 1897.

Sarah is my Peoria dresser.
She is such a down to earth lady. This is one of her jobs--she also works in social services, and during the winter months is the sole breadwinner for her family (her husband is a roofer and works in the warmer months). She has two kids, a nine year old and a thirteen year old. Such a devoted mother is she that she has some of her younger daughter's artwork tattooed on her body--it's very cool and endearing. Sarah's family is going through some rough times and she is handling it all with grace. She is not the only new friend I have met on this tour who has filled me with awe and deep respect. I have had the good fortune to have connected with some of you (and you know who you are) who have taken the time to write to me after seeing the show, or who have met me at the stage door, and have opened your hearts and shared your stories. Some of you have become friends. Your personal journeys have touched my heart, opened my mind and inspired my deepest respect for the hardships and challenges you have endured. The greatest common denominator in all of your experiences has been the positivity and optimism with which you have faced what life has offered you. I am forever grateful for these special connections I have made with extraordinary human beings who I have been lucky enough to bring a little laughter and pleasure to along this journey.

Chicago is the next stop on the tour, for two whole weeks. Having not spent nearly enough time in that great city, I am looking forward to exploring all it has to offer. And of course, I celebrate with the rest of the country the inauguration of Barack Obama. A new era begins...

Star Struck

2009-01-09T23:00:00.002-05:00

Week 57: South Bend, IN

I can't imagine that I need to introduce Mr. Richard Chamberlain to you.
Those of us of a particular generation will remember him as the "mini-series king" and lead actor of such TV epics as "The Thorn Birds," "Shogun," and "The Man in the Iron Mask." Those of an earlier generation will remember him as the star of "Dr. Kildare." He is also the star of some movies I especially love like "The Three Musketeers" (with Oliver Reed, Michael York and Raquel Welch) and the little-known big screen musical adaptation of Cinderella, "The Slipper and the Rose." Richard has played leading roles in some very successful Broadway musical revivals in recent years, including "The Sound of Music" and "My Fair Lady." Well, he is opening with us week after next as King Arthur, and it's very exciting to have the chance to work with him. When I was a teenager and had dreams of being a strong legit actor, my mother used to point to Chamberlain as an example of an actor who took control of his destiny and made a classical education and a commitment to quality work his priority. With the overnight success of his 60's TV series "Dr. Kildare," he had every reason to stay in Hollywood and build on his stardom. But Richard chose to go to England, study classical acting, and perform as a leading actor in plays of Shakespeare and other great playwrights. When he returned to Hollywood in the early 70's, he came back as an accomplished leading man with great presence and finesse. Consequently, he was the number one choice for any drama that came along in period costumes! We met Richard at our company meeting this week; he will be rehearsing with the dance captains and our stage manager this week and next before his Chicago opening. He has a great bearing about him, still possesses chiseled good looks, and is easygoing and friendly. I look forward to seeing what his King Arthur will be like and the new dimensions we will find in the show and our individual performances by working alongside him. So cool!!

South Bend has proven to be what I fondly call a "rest stop." There is little to do here and I am housed in a very comfortable efficiency hotel which is like a little apartment. The weather has been cold and snowy and I have found much to do indoors, catching up on paperwork, reading, and beginning a new fitness program which is part of my new year's resolutions. Sometimes it is nice not to have so much sightseeing to do.
South Bend, as you may know, is home to the University of Notre Dame, one of the grand old college campuses. Our venue this week is the gorgeous Morris Performing Arts Center. Built in the 1920s as The Palace Theatre, it was part of the thriving vaudeville circuit of the time, featuring live performances and motion pictures. Exquisitely restored, the theatre is a confection in blue, rose and cream with ornate gilding. It's a very grand place, and home to the South Bend Symphony Orchestra.

You will forgive me, I am sure, for not having made it to the Notre Dame campus during my visit here, and if you have been following my blog for a while, you will understand that I didn't make time to see the College Football Hall of Fame. I did, however, get in to the South Bend Museum of Art (of course). The permanent collection is primarily dedicated to Indiana artists, and many of these are marvelous landscape painters. One of the things I love about exploring regional art museums is the opportunity to fall in love with an artist one has never heard of.
At SBM Art, I discovered the luminous work of George Ames Aldrich, an Indiana painter who created beautiful Impressionist landscapes, three of which are a part of the collection here. The temporary exhibit on view this week featured works from the collection at the Guild Hall Museum in East Hampton, New York. Established in 1931, the focus of the Guild Hall collection is on works that use eastern Long Island as subject matter, or were created by artists who were part of the East Hampton community. Consequently, this show was eclectic, ranging from exquisite 19th century landscapes by Thomas Moran and Frederick Childe Hassam to 20th century modern pieces by De Kooning, Jackson Pollack, Roy Lichtenstein and Andy Warhol. The museum was highly enjoyable and featured a gallery of student and faculty works from the art school there. The museum worker I chatted with told me it was her last day at work, due to cutbacks. The institution itself is in precarious financial straits. Everywhere I travel these days the signs of the struggling economy are conspicuous. Here in South Bend, the local health food store has virtually empty shelves; healthy eating and organic produce have become luxuries here and they can't afford to order merchandise. In Cincinnati last week, panhandlers on the street bore cardboard signs with things like "Laid off--Anything will help" emblazoned on them. I pray our economy takes an upturn soon.

On a happier note, I visited one of the popular attractions here, the South Bend Chocolate Company. Started in 1991 by a chocolate lover, and under license to produce chocolate novelties for the University of Notre Dame, the organization has grown to 10 company owned stores in Indiana and 10 franchised stores throughout Indiana and Michigan. There is a chocolate factory here in town and the store itself includes a cafe with wonderful food as well as, of course, sweets of all kinds, and a children's play area complete with chocolate treehouse and animatronic M&Ms. Since I am on my new year's resolution diet, I limited my indulgence to a cup of Mexican Hot Chocolate, dark creamy chocolate with a hint of peppery spiciness. Perfect thing to warm up on a cold and snowy day. The snow here has been a pleasure actually, reminding me of my childhood when we used to put on our snowsuits and trudge out with our toboggans and sleds for a day of winter fun. Spending time in my little hotel room watching the flakes come down has been really lovely.

Tracy is my South Bend dresser.
She lives in Florida now but came up here for an extended visit with family and took on some work with us at the Morris Center. Tracy started her theatrical endeavors as a performer, and has worked extensively as a radio disc jockey and voiceover artist. She has a bright and happy smile and upbeat demeanor, as well as very glamorous hair and makeup every single day. Such a pleasure to work with. Our next stop is Peoria, Illinois, where we principal actors will get our first rehearsals with Richard Chamberlain and meet our new Lady of the Lake, Merle Dandridge. I want to send love to the Broadway company of "Spamalot" as the production closes this weekend. After four years, 1579 performances, three Tony Awards and a ton of confetti, the Shubert will go dark on "Spamalot." We will carry on the legacy, continuing to bring the bright side to America! Congratulations, Broadway Spamily, on a great run. Stay warm everyone! Until next time...

Queen City

2009-01-03T02:00:00.000-05:00

Week 56: Cincinnati, OH

And this song of the vine,
This greeting of mine,
The winds and the birds shall deliver
To the Queen of the West
In her garlands dressed
On the banks of the beautiful river.
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Now you know why it's called the "Queen City." It is called Cincinnati after the Society of Cincinnati, founded to honor George Washington, who was considered in his time to be a latter day Cincinnatus, the Roman who was called upon to be dictator and resigned the position as soon as he had accomplished a great military victory. And that completes today's history lesson.

Happy New Year!! I hope that you had a good time ushering out 2008 and welcoming in 2009. The new year arrived clear and cold here in Cincinnati. "Spamalot" celebrated in its usual festive style, taking over the upstairs of a popular martini bar following our performance that night. Show biz people clean up real good, and all our lovely ladies took the opportunity to break out their most stunning frocks and give us a glimpse of beauty and class.
This trio of lovelies is, from left to right, Cara, Jen and Paula. A good time was had by all. It was wild to remember last New Year's Eve in Washington, D.C., which was right after I opened in the show , and to realize that a whole year of touring adventures has passed. What will 2009 hold? Well, we all have our hopes, our dreams and a few resolutions. For the world, I hope that we can find our way to peace; and for our country, that we can emerge from our economic crisis, get behind our new President, and learn to be more accepting and inclusive of all Americans. For myself, I look forward to a year full of more creative opportunity, abundance, adventure, joy--and health and well being for my loved ones.

I must say I like Cincinnati. The downtown area is concentrated enough to be extremely accessible and walkable.
Fountain Square is the heart of the city and a sort of miniature Rockefeller Center, bordered by hotels, restaurants and cultural institutions, like our venue this week, the Aronoff Center for the Arts. You may recall the Overture Center in Madison, Wisconsin and its very beautiful streamlined modern design. That venue and the Aronoff Center were designed by renowned Argentinean architect Cesar Pelli. The Aronoff is quite nice, all honey toned woods and plush seats in sage velvet, with a ceiling of translucent tiers adorned with twinkling lights.

Cincinnati is known for its many cultural institutions, fine theatre and dance companies and museums. While I was disappointed, what with the New Year's holiday smack dab in the middle of the week, not to have gotten to the Cincinnati Art Museum, which is some ways outside of the downtown area--I did get to two fine museums.
The Taft Museum of Art is a real gem of a collection housed in a stately mansion built around 1820 by Cincinnati's first millionaire. In time the home was bequeathed to iron industry heiress Anna Sinton, who, with her husband Charles Phelps Taft, amassed an extraordinary collection of paintings, decorative art and Chinese porcelains. In the 1920s, these patrons of the arts bequeathed the house and the artworks to the people of Cincinnati and in the 1930s the museum was opened to the public. It is a wonderful place, part historic home, part art museum, and reminded me of a miniature version of places like the Isabella Stuart Gardner Museum in Boston or the Frick Collection in New York. Each room has been painstakingly decorated with Federalist antique furnishings and reproduction carpets and window treatments, in color and design schemes that compliment the period of the artworks in each room. A wonderful feature of the house is a series of wall murals painted in tromp l'oeil style by the prominent 19th century African American artist Robert S. Duncanson, commissioned by the then owner of the house, arts patron and abolitionist Nicholas Longworth. The Taft collection ranges from Dutch masters such as Rembrandt and Frans Hals, to 18th century portraitists like Gainsborough and Joshua Reynolds, to artists of the Barbizon school such as Camille-Corot and Daubigny, who was a strong influence on Monet and other impressionist painters. There is a treasure trove of Chinese artifacts as well as an extensive collection of Limoges enamel pieces from the 16th and 17th centuries.
My favorite pieces in the museum were the early Whistler masterpiece, "At the Piano," John Singer Sergeant's portrait of Robert Louis Stevenson, and a hauntingly beautiful portrait by Ingres, "Mademoiselle Jeanne Gonin," exquisitely rendered in amazing detail. Incredible, really.

By contrast, the Contemporary Arts Center is a far cry from the decorative splendor and classical antiquities of the Taft. The museum building, opened in 2003, is a marvelous combination of industrial materials and innovative design by architect Zaha Hadid. The space is vast, open, airy and is a strong background for the challenging exhibitions of contemporary art on display. My favorite of the shows was the first U.S. solo exhibition of Austrian artist Maria Lassnig.
Now 90 years old and still painting (most of the pieces in the exhibit were executed within the last five years), Lassnig's work is spontaneous, vigorous, sometimes startling and confrontational, at others, touchingly human, particularly in her depiction of less than "perfect" human bodies. Applying oils to raw canvases with enormous courage and vitality, her use of the layering of color to create surreal depictions of human flesh are startling. I found it an extremely invigorating show. On the top floor of CAC is the "UnMuseum"--a center for arts education and an interactive museum for kids that I found wonderfully creative and imaginative.

My cultural exploration went from high brow to low brow, when I conducted a "when in Rome" foray into local cuisine phenomena.
Cincinnati is obsessed with chili, considering itself the true chili capital of the world, and they do it in a very special way. A meat based chili, with a slightly thinned out consistency, it is flavored with unsweetened cocoa, cinnamon and Worcestershire sauce, and served spooned over spaghetti and topped with a mound of shredded cheese. If you want your chili "Five Way" you would add to this a pile of additional toppings, including onions, refried or kidney beans, and crushed oyster crackers. So, I tried it. I had been warned it was an acquired taste. I did not acquire it. I found it icky. And it was almost instantaneous heartburn. However, the local taste I did acquire was the yummy goodness that is Graeter's Ice Cream. This frozen confection is made using the "French Pot Process" in which fresh cream and egg custard is gently swirled around the sides of a slowly spinning French Pot freezer. As it thickens, blades scrape the ice cream from the sides of the pot, folding it in on itself. This accounts for less air in the product and a denser, thicker ice cream. It is beyond rich and delicious.

My dresser in Cincinnati is Pat.
Pat studied design and stage management at the University of Oklahoma and when the "Spamalot" tour was last here, she worked as a stitcher on the show. This time she decided to get into the action back stage and she has done a great job dressing me and Brad Bradley. I asked her about herself and she said, 'I have two kids and two cats. The kids are out on their own and the cats are still at home!'

Our midwest odyssey continues next week in South Bend, Indiana. This next stop will be the calm before the storm in a way, as our engagements in Peoria, Chicago and Detroit will all bring significant changes of cast, with a new King Arthur, a new Lady of the Lake and a new (or I should say, returning) Patsy.

Christmas Caucus

2008-12-26T23:00:00.001-05:00

Week 55: Des Moines, IA

I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six. Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked for my autograph.
--Shirley Temple

I hope your holidays were warm and wonderful. I had a pleasant Christmas in Des Moines, mainly because of the delightful way that the company came together to celebrate and make this holiday away from home special. We were treated to a delicious Christmas Eve dinner, and a wonderful dessert and egg nog party in the penthouse of our hotel.
Secret Santas were revealed, carols were sung, Christmas crackers popped, and our own pyro guy Mike Berg played a fabulous Santa Claus--and found himself being sat upon by every member of the cast and crew! Here he is with the two resident Jews, me and Jonathan Hadary! People flew in their families and significant others; Matt Greer had his beautiful children Spencer and Miranda dashing about. Lest you should worry that we don't get to have a family style Christmas on the road, let me assure you Christmas with the Spamily was an affair to remember.

My week here started with a series of seven back to back radio interviews at various studios spread out around town. The local press representative picked me up at the unholy hour of 7:30AM on our first day here, and shuttled me from one interview after another. It was rather fun, though, to tailor the conversation to the station that was conducting the interview--"musical theatre" talk for the public radio/arts station, fart jokes and showgirls in bikinis for the rock station. It's fortunate that our show has such a broad appeal! Des Moines is an odd city, rather nondescript and strangely quiet. Part of this has to do with the very convenient skywalk system that connects office buildings, hotels and indoor malls--leaving the streets almost deserted. We are performing at the Des Moines Civic Center which gets my vote for ugliest theatre I have thus played on my tour. The interior is vast, with plain high walls of grungy white stucco, and horseshoe shaped, continental style seating, upholstered alternately in primary green, red and blue. However, the audiences have been great.

Lest you should think there is no beauty in Des Moines, au contraire. A small group of us went on a tour of the governor's mansion, Terrace Hill. This historic home was built in the mid 19th century by Iowa's first millionaire, Benjamin Franklin Allen, who squandered his family fortune and had to sell the home to one of the lawyers who worked on his bankruptcy case, F. M. Hubbell, whose descendants lived in the house for over 70 years. The family bequeathed the house to the state of Iowa and in the 1970s it became the governor's official residence.
Built in 1869 at a cost of $250,000, it was the first home in the region to have gas lighting, indoor plumbing, and an elevator. Rich with sumptuous woods and veneers, magnificent stenciled walls and ceilings, marble fireplace mantles and an extraordinary stained glass window at the top of the grand staircase (reminiscent of "Gone With the Wind"), this place is a real treasure of Victorian and turn of the century opulence. It was a pleasure to visit it and to learn about the extraordinary efforts of the nearly all-volunteer staff that keeps the place going while the governor's family resides in the historic home. We even got to meet the staff chef, whose pumpkin pies filled the air of the house with sweet smells of goodness. The place was all decked out in Christmas finery and all in all it was a real treat to see it.

From Terrace Hill, I went further up Grand Avenue and stopped in at the Des Moines Art Center. It is a small gem of a museum: the main building dating back to the late 40's is sort of sleek, post-war deco with light woods and matte steel railings, and a very special wing built in the 60s and designed by I.M. Pei is in his signature style, all clean lines and striated concrete. The collection itself is small, and primarily focused on 19th and 20th century artists. There are some fine pieces by Picasso, Childe Hassam, Rodin, Monet, as well as some photography by Man Ray and Alfred Stieglitz.
The most famous piece in the collection, and the one that drew me to the museum, is "Automat" by Edward Hopper. Regrettably, the painting is currently on loan to a museum in Seattle so I missed the chance to view this wonderful piece up close and personal. I did have a very nice lunch in the museum restaurant, reputed to be one of the finest in Des Moines, and the art dork in me was very satisfied.

Flo is my Des Moines dresser.
She and her husband were publicans, and owned a bar in the East Village section of Des Moines for 25 years. They got involved with stagehand work via the fire fighters who frequented their pub (seems fairly common that fire fighters do back stage work on the side), and Flo became a wardrobe worker ten years ago. Luckily for me, she dressed my "track" the last time the show was in Des Moines, so this week has been easy breezy. Thanks, Flo! New Year's will find me in Cincinnati, so I will write from there in 2009. Happy New Year everyone!

Girl of the Ozarks

2008-12-20T08:00:00.004-05:00

Week 54: Fayetteville, AR

Touring is traditionally an adventure playground for young actors and those who would remain young past their first youth; oats are sown, hell is raised, candles are burned at both ends. The twin excitements of a new town and an almost unbroken succession of first nights, every one a triumph of adrenalin over adversity, added to the curious sense of truancy involved in being away from home create an emotional wildness.
--Simon Callow, "Orson Welles: The Road to Xanadu"

Sounds like fun. What tour was he on?!

Welcome back--did you miss me? Last week's layoff week marked the end of my first year with "Spamalot" and so I suppose this begins the next major phase of this journey for me. The week off afforded me some time to get my holiday shopping done in New York, and to enjoy an early celebration with my Mom and family up in Massachusetts.

It is perhaps timely that I write something about our lovely leading lady, Esther Stilwell, since we are in Esther's hometown this week.
If you have seen the show, you know what all of us know about Esther--that she is an attractive, graceful young woman with a stunning, powerful voice. Hers is one of those great show business stories about the start of a young performer's career. Esther studied at the University of Oklahoma and spent a summer at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in England; upon graduation she did a handful of shows including a couple for Disney and the 25th anniversary tour of "Cats," in which she played Grizzabella. But "Spamalot" was her first professional job; she was brought in as the stand by for Lady of the Lake when the national tour was forming and toured with the company in that capacity for the first year. When the reigning Lady left the show, Mike Nichols and the other creative team members decided to give Esther a wonderful break and move her into the role. Thus, in her early 20s and at the start of her professional career, Miss Stilwell became the diva leading lady of a major Broadway national tour. Yet for all the hoopla, Esther is incredibly down to earth, self effacing, sweet natured and real. I believe she owes these qualities to a strong background of family and faith right here in her home town of Fayetteville. She welcomed us here with great warmth, leaving goodie bags for all of us at our hotels, complete with lists of her favorite spots around town and delicious chunks of her own homemade fudge, and her parents hosted our opening night party in their home. Esther will be leaving us in January and there is no doubt that she will be much missed. And the fudge was divine, by the way.

Fayetteville is the home of the University of Arkansas, and has all the qualities of a college town, with a charming campus and a downtown strip of pubs, restaurants and fun shops.
In the heart of this district is the Walton Arts Center, our theatre this week. The result of a collaboration between University of Arkansas, the city of Fayetteville, and Sam Walton (the founder of Wal-Mart, which has its headquarters in nearby Bentonville), the theatre was opened in 1992. It's a somewhat institutional feeling building, a far cry from some of the ornate old theatres we have played recently, and the interior of dull tan colored seats looks rather like an enormous graham cracker. Aesthetics aside, the Walton Center is a well supported, integral part of the Northwest Arkansas region, as evinced by our sold out houses this week.

I admit I have not done a great deal of sightseeing here in Fayetteville. My hotel is out on a highway and we are carpooling, plus there are not too many attractions in this town. There is a museum in honor of Bill and Hillary Clinton, commemorating their time spent here, teaching at the University of Arkansas School of Law. The Fayetteville Public Library is said to be one of the best in the nation. I regret to say I did not visit either institution. It's been a week of simple pleasures--some shopping, internet surfing, reading, and generally hanging out. Sometimes weeks like this are so very welcome on tour--resting and recharging is necessary and places like Fayetteville are great for that.
The highlight of the week has been watching our company game of "Secret Santa" unfold. Every night people are finding goodies and gifts at their dressing stations, being treated to poetic recitations, sent on scavenger hunts, being made to wear funny clothes, finding their spot in the quick change booth festooned with Christmas lights and wreaths. Several of the folks who elected not to participate in the gift giving have volunteered as "elves" to deliver goodies; here is Brad Bradley in full elf regalia ready for duty!

My dresser this week is Melissa, and this is only her second time doing this.
She's a nice, soft spoken young lady who executed her duties to perfection on her very first night. She says her sister is a theatre major but Melissa is more interested in art history, because she wants a job that will afford her opportunities to travel. I harangued her with talk of my passion for the Italian Baroque, and recommended all sorts of books to her, poor girl! Ah well. So, folks, next time I write it will be after Christmas and Hanukkah have passed. I want to wish you and yours the happiest and healthiest of holidays! Take time during this next week--of last minute shopping, tallying up receipts, dashing from one commitment to another, and in general overindulging as we all do this time of year-- to just sit quietly and remember how fortunate you are. In this season of giving, make time to give back to yourself in the form of positive thoughts and feelings of gratitude. And if you can, do something for someone less fortunate this year. The "Spamalot" company has "adopted" two families in Des Moines and it has been a source of great joy for each of us to contribute to making the holiday warm and happy for these deserving people. Give your loved ones the greatest gift you can give--your affection, your embrace, your appreciation and your love.

The best of times is now

What's left of summer but a faded rose?

The best of times is now

As for tomorrow, well, who knows, who knows, who knows?

So hold this moment fast
And live and love as hard as you know how
And make this moment last
Because the best of times is now, is now, is now...
--Jerry Herman

Four Feet

2008-12-05T23:30:00.000-05:00

Week 52: Sioux City, Iowa

Brrr! Sioux City is in the grip of a deep freeze this week, but apparently this is not unusual for this part of the country. The extremes of weather here in "Siouxland" are just part of the way of life. Still, the cold is brutal. Sioux City is a small, quiet place; I will be honest, there ain't a whole lot going on here. One of the young ladies in the show was at a local restaurant and she asked her server what there was to do in the area. The server enthusiastically said, "Well, "Spamalot" is in town!" When this dancer said she was in it, the waiter sort of shrugged and said, "Well, I don't know what to tell ya." So, this is a rather quiet week. There's a cineplex across the road from the hotel, and I got to see Baz Luhrmann's new epic "Australia."
Beautifully filmed, and starring Hugh Jackman, who is my new hero--he looks the way every 40-something man dreams of looking. His physique is beyond belief. Oh, and Nicole Kidman looks pretty too. But she is going the way of Meg Ryan with the weird plastic surgery on the lips. A collagen intervention is called for. Saw "Changeling" as well--grim, gripping, terribly upsetting. Beautifully directed by Clint Eastwood in his usual restrained style, with one exception. He seems to have been so seduced by Angelina Jolie's beauty that he allowed her to be given the full Hollywood glamour treatment, in a role that really would have been served by a little less makeup and fashion. Jolie gives a finely modulated, strong performance nonetheless. I have also had a couple nice meals here in town at a place called Sweet Fanny's, where the southern specialties they serve are first rate. The rest of my free time has been taken up with working out, writing Christmas cards, and taking driving lessons from my dear friend Tim. Tim and I did what I called jokingly a 'Thelma and Louise' road trip, flying into nearby Omaha and renting a car to drive the hour and a half to Sioux City. So we have a rental car this week and Tim has been taking me out to parking lots and back roads and letting me practice. I must say, I am doing pretty well!

We are performing at the Orpheum Theatre here in Sioux City.
Built in 1927 as part of the famous Orpheum vaudeville circuit, this local landmark went through a meticulous restoration which was completed just seven years ago. It's an opulent, beautiful old theatre with a fully restored Mighty Wulitzer organ. Unfortunately, the restoration process didn't include enlarging the playing space to accommodate today's large scale tours, like ours. When the crew arrived, they had to do some fancy footwork to fit our scenery into the shallow stage space. This meant eliminating four feet of the stage 'deck' from the front of the stage, foreshortening our playing space considerably. A few additional changes were required in the set and some restaging of some key moments in the show--the rehearsals for these changes being quickly accomplished just an hour before our opening performance. This made for an exciting and sometimes scary first show. With cast and crew on our toes the entire evening, making sure that everyone was safe and knew where to go in a very different space, the energy was kinetic. Only one moment of terror opening night, during the nun and monk pas de deux in the "Camelot" number. At the climax of the dance, the monk takes one of the nun's arms and one leg and spins 'her' around-- but with the stage space being smaller, this move brought the dancers perilously close to the pit and Matt, our nun, almost ended up in the string section! Scary! But there were great benefits to the sudden change in stage space as well: the energy on stage was electric, spontaneous; we were closer to the first rows of the audience which made for a stronger connection with the spectators. And what an audience! Don't judge a book by it's cover, folks. Sioux City may be sleepy but it's inhabitants are not. Rarely in my year on this tour have I experienced a more enthusiastic, responsive and appreciative audience. It was pure joy. The day after opening I was sitting in a local coffee shop and heard a group of elderly men talking about the show. One of them was rapturously reporting to his friends that our show "will spoil you for any other Broadway show--it's that good." I sat there, in anonymity, grinning with great satisfaction.

Something else touching happened on our opening night at the Orpheum. As you may remember, at the end of the show, Patsy goes out into the audience and finds the Holy Grail under the seat of an audience member. It's a different "peasant" and a different seat every night, and the unsuspecting person is brought up on stage in a bit that never fails to delight the audience. On our Sioux City opening, Brad Bradley, who plays Patsy, went out and brought up a young boy, a shy kid with floppy bangs half obscuring his eyes. The next day I received this message from our bass player in the band about just how special it was that this particular young boy, Austin, was selected:

Great show tonight in Sioux City. I play bass in the pit. I wanted to let you know about the boy you brought up on stage tonight. He has had a very rough year and is suffering major depression. He has been in and out of school all year and his father passed away earlier this year. This is the second time he has gone anywhere besides school in the past few months. Today was his birthday and also the first time his family has seen him smile in months, and you have it captured in the picture you took tonight. I know it was not planned but you made his family very happy today. Kudos to you and the cast!

My emotional reaction to this touching news requires no comment. What we do does matter.

The holiday season always brings with it a time of reflection for me, when I look back over the year that has passed; the gains, the losses, the lessons learned, new friends made, and the growth that new adventures have engendered in me. This tour has been a seminal event in my career. After 20 years of solid work in many areas of the profession, from cabaret to Shakespeare festivals, I got a real 'break' being offered Sir Robin. It has been a year of many firsts and a chance to see the country. I have experienced more of North America in the past year than I have in my entire life. The opportunity to travel, to make a good living as an actor in a profession that offers a precious few such chances, to reach out and connect with our audiences and to be able to share my experiences with people like you... all this has been an embarrassment of riches. I feel very blessed. And my "Spamalot" adventure will continue into 2009. I have been asked to stay on at least until May. So there will be many more tales to tell in the next five months. I hope you will stay on for the ride.

My dresser here is Chris.
She qualifies as the coolest dresser I have worked with thus far on the tour. Chris was at one time a jockey in Colorado; she married and moved back to Iowa, working in her parents' photography studio. In her mid-forties, she decided to test to become a firefighter and passed! She is now the only female firefighter in her station house. Many of the guys she works with take part time work as stagehands and she followed suit, which is what brings her back stage at the Orpheum. This fascinating lady also competes in riding competitions with her horse Boo Boo. I just think she is the coolest. Next week is a layoff week, and I will be returning to New York to attend to some business there and then spending a long weekend with my Mom in Massachusetts, celebrating an early Christmas together. So look for a post the week after, from our Lady of the Lake Esther Stilwell's home town of Fayetteville, Arkansas.

Giving Thanks

2008-11-29T16:30:00.000-05:00

Week 51: Pittsburgh, PA

Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are.
--Marianne Williamson

As I mentioned before, I was born here in Pittsburgh, as was my older brother. My parents met in the drama department of Carnegie Tech (which later became Carnegie Mellon). After they married, they lived here for a few years and then moved us to Massachusetts. I don't have memories of Pittsburgh, aside from one summer I spent here in 1978 when my Dad was designing the scenery for the Civic Light Opera season at Heinz Hall. I remember hanging out in the paint studio with him as he worked, washing brushes and buckets, helping to size drops. I remember the majestic white, gilt and red velvet interior of Heinz Hall, and the wonderful productions, which included "Company," "Anything Goes," and a beautiful "Oliver!" starring Clive Revill, reprising the role of Fagin, which he created in the original London and Broadway casts of the show. I remember the remarkable sight of those three mighty rivers joining together in the city, and a trip to Kennywood amusement park; I also saw "Star Wars" on the big screen here that summer. Now that I have completely dated myself...

If you have read my bio on my website you will know that I spent several years impersonating the great Marlene Dietrich. Thus, the photo that launches this week's post. If you are looking for a fun flick for a snowy night in front of the fire this winter, check out 1942's "Pittsburgh." A tale of ambition in the steel industry, it stars John Wayne as "Pittsburgh," Randolph Scott as "Cash" and Marlene as Josie, whose nickname is, and no, I am dead serious--"Hunky." Dietrich's penultimate dramatic moment in this film is a harrowing scene in which she plummets to her death in a mine shaft elevator that comes detached from its cable. Dietrich always played women of easy virtue who had to die to keep the Hays office happy. But I digress.

Architectural grandeur highlights this visit to Pittsburgh, beginning with my hotel this week, the historic William Penn Hotel.
Built in 1916, this is one of the great American hotels, like the Plaza in New York. From the elegant lobby, with its sparkling chandeliers, presently swathed in garland, twinkling lights and an enormous Christmas tree, to the plush guest rooms and the stately ballrooms, this is definitely a swellagent place from a bygone era. It's been a delight to stay here, and the company threw us a scrumptious Thanksgiving dinner in the Lawrence Welk Room (his band began it's rise to fame at the William Penn, and the famous bubble machine not only made its premiere here but is still stored somewhere in the hotel!).
The food was just delicious and it was a chance for the entire cast, crew and management to dress up a little and be family together on this festive holiday.

The grandeur continues at our venue this week, the Benedum Center.
Built in 1927 as The Stanley Theatre, it was originally a movie palace similar to Radio City Music Hall, presenting big screen entertainment and lavish stage shows. Beautifully restored, the venue is just breathtaking, with 90 crystal chandeliers and torchieres, gleaming brass railings, Florentine style friezes, and a mirrored lobby meant to emulate the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles. It's a beautiful venue, and is home to the Pittsburgh Civic Light Opera now, nearby Heinz Hall being used primarily for the symphony. Pittsburgh is an interesting city to stroll around, at once seedy and solid-- skyscrapers sharing the landscape with ornate 19th century buildings reflecting the ostentation of a city built on the wealth of the great steel magnates. I have enjoyed taking pictures of some of the architectural gems here.

Making money is art and working is art and good business is the best art.
--Andy Warhol

That quote just about encapsulates the commercial theatre! My one museum outing here was a real beaut. The Warhol Museum is a unique tribute to one of Pittsburgh's favorite sons, and with seven floors of art and archival material, it is a comprehensive overview of the art and life of the enigmatic Andy Warhol.
I never quite realized how diverse his talents were. Of course there are the famous Campbell's Soup cans and the celebrity portraits, from Liz Taylor to Marilyn. But he also did some striking abstract works, including mammoth Rorschach images in metallic inks and a large canvas on which he experimented with the effects achieved by urinating on to copper-based paint (sounds gross but the final result was rather pretty). From his work as a commercial artist and film maker, to the publisher of Interview magazine (he said he started the publication to get free tickets to events), Warhol was intensely aware of American culture and all its detail, which he collected in his consciousness and used to create art with a very particular and compelling point of view. He was a true aesthete in the tradition of Oscar Wilde, viewing life as art and the artist as art. His signature black Ray Ban glasses and wild blond wig made him as iconic as the images he used in his work. The museum also includes the work of some of his contemporaries and collaborators like Keith Haring and Jean-Michel Basquiat. But my favorite room was the one containing Warhol's "clouds:" silver foil pillows filled with helium being gently wafted around a white room by fans. I had a delightful time watching a little angel-haired child romping amongst these puffs of silver. It was a playful collision of art and life that I think Warhol would have found delightful.

The holiday this week, the time I have spent in Pittsburgh and the kindness of a new friend I made here have all reminded me how important it is to try and stay in a place of gratitude and appreciation of all that I have and the beauty that life has to offer. It is easy to get bogged down in concerns and anxieties, to fret about the economy and worry about money, to try and hold on to what one has for fear of losing it and being without. It's easy to lose perspective; to forget the gifts one has been granted--of health, of vitality, of meaningful work, of loved ones. There are some people in my circle and in the circles of my friends who are suffering, who are dealing with catastrophic illnesses; the death toll continued to rise this week in Mumbai, where innocent people have been the victims of hate and ignorance. In the face of despair, and our own feelings of helplessness, there is power in gratitude. I hope that this Thanksgiving brought great bounty to you and the feeling that you are blessed and have much to be thankful for. May we carry those feelings into the new year.

Sigrid is my Pittsburgh dresser.
She has the elegant carriage of a dancer, and used to work in the fashion industry, draping and tailoring--she says with pride that her specialty was creating suits and if you know anything about that kind of tailoring, you know it requires great skill and attention to detail. I have no doubt Sigrid was terrific at it. She has been a pleasure to work with here. The Pittsburgh audiences have been enthusiastic and generous. We are doing the annual holiday fund drive for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS right now. At each performance, cast members collect money in the lobby for this very worthy charity which has raised $100,000,000 through this kind of grass roots fundraising. If you are looking for a worthy cause to contribute to this season, I recommend BC/EFA. The money you contribute goes directly to those who need it, from all walks of life. And so, in closing this week, let me thank you for YOU. Your interest in my journey and your enthusiasm for the work I do lifts me up and makes me feel connected. So thank you for sticking with me! Sioux City is next...

Family and Spamily

2008-11-21T23:00:00.002-05:00

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.

Mermaids

2008-11-15T01:00:00.000-05:00

Week 49: Norfolk, VA

I was last in Norfolk about ten years ago, performing at Virginia Stage Company in the zany two-man show by Charles Ludlum, "The Mystery of Irma Vep." A riotous spoof of gothic horror stories, the show requires two actors to take on several characters each, and jump in and out of them in a series of lightning fast costume changes.
Starring opposite the then artistic director of the theatre, Charlie Hensley, I played a shrieking lady of the manse, a hunchback caretaker who is also a werewolf, a Middle Eastern trail guide who sounded suspiciously like Peter Lorre, and an Egyptian princess raised from the dead. It was a hoot (that's me on the left as Lady Enid). I am glad to say that Virginia Stage Company is still here, in its lovely jewel box of a theatre, The Wells.

Norfolk is as I remembered it, with some improvements and developments, including a very fancy mall right in the downtown area where we are performing this week at Chrysler Hall. Norfolk has a long military and naval history reaching back to the Revolutionary War, during which the city was completely destroyed in battles with the British navy, then built up again in the Federalist period. There is a national maritime center here and a memorial to the great General Douglas MacArthur. Norfolk is also the cultural center of this region, known as Hampton Roads. A revitalization project started around 2000 gave the city it's symbol, the mermaid. And the little ladies are everywhere--on official buildings, signs, and throughout the city in the form of sculptures which were part of the "Parade of Mermaids" project benefitting the arts in Norfolk.

Due to a somewhat melancholy streak in my character, I have always enjoyed a rainy day with nothing pressing to do. I have always seen such days as an opportunity to commune with myself, and to do something solitary and introspective. Visiting a museum is the ideal activity, and on this rainy Thursday I took in the Chrysler Museum of Art here in Norfolk.
Incredible to me that I never visited when I was last in Norfolk (for several weeks). The museum is a gem, a sort of "mini-Met," its Tuscan style building housing a marvelous collection of antiquities, modern art, an extensive collection of glass, decorative arts and photography, as well as a large exhibit of neoclassical American marble sculptures. I realize that it makes me a fuddy-duddy art dork, but I had such a delightful time there. The staff is the warmest, most helpful and welcoming of any art museum I have been to. One of the staffers, a bright young lady named Michelle, joined me in the Art Nouveau room of the decorative arts collection and we had a stimulating chat about our shared obsession with visual art. Michelle told the director of the museum that one of the "Spamalot" actors was visiting, and he very generously sent her to me at my lunch table in the museum's charming cafe to present me with a stack of free admission coupons for the entire company! The welcoming atmosphere set the tone for a wonderful exploration of some very fine pieces of art--my Renaissance and Italian Baroque cravings being sated with canvases by Tintoretto and Veronese as well as the last known marble sculpture--a bust of Christ--by the great master Bernini, executed at the age of 80. There were some marvelous surprises, such as a dramatic painting, Orestes Pursued by the Furies, by Bougereau, featuring an incredibly erotic and beautiful male nude; another casting of Rodin's masterwork, Age of Bronze (you recall I saw one in Ottawa last week--I learned today that the execution of this nude sculpture is so fine that when it was first exhibited Rodin was accused of having made it from a life casting of his model, forcing him to produce the photographic studies he had worked from to sculpt the figure); and my favorite of the 19th century French paintings in the collection, Pierrot as Politician by Couture, depicting two businessmen, dressed in costumes on their way to a masked ball, discussing current events over a newspaper. The New York Times has described the Chrysler collection as "one any museum in the world would kill for," and it is easy to see why. Again, there is great beauty for us in unexpected places. We just have to get out our umbrellas and go look for it.

Friday was another rainy day and I decided to visit the Moses Myers house, an historical home in Norfolk that was built in the late 18th century by a Jewish shipping merchant and his family.
I was the only one to show up for the 3:00 tour, and so was treated to a private tour by a charming docent named Therese, who told me the story of the Myers family, the only Jewish family in Norfolk in the late 18th century. The family rose to a high position in society and was greatly respected. One of the sons of the family was the first Jew to graduate from the College of William and Mary, and graduated valedictorian; Moses Myers was awarded an official position by president John Quincy Adams. The house remained in the family line for five generations and so 70% of the furnishings and objects in the house are original. It's a beautiful Federal era home, full of the neoclassical flourishes that were popular in the period. It was a real treat to get a personal tour of the place and glimpse a bit of American history.

My dresser in Norfolk is Tanya. This is Tanya's first big show. She fell into backstage work after being dissatisfied with her former work options and finds she really loves the crazy world of the theatre. She has been level headed and a delight to work with all week. Great work, Tanya!

You will notice that I am three weeks away from the one year mark of my tour with "Spamalot." It's incredible to me how quickly the time has gone. By week 52, I will have played 38 cities across North America and done 352 performances. And it is likely that I will continue on with the tour, perhaps for another year. Next week in Boston, I will finally get to meet our venerable director Mike Nichols, who will be coming to see the show and give us his notes and insights. I am excited to have the opportunity not only to meet this legendary talent, but to receive direction from the man who created "Spamalot" with Eric Idle, John DuPrez and Casey Nicholaw. What, me nervous? Naw.... gulp!

A New Hope

2008-11-08T12:00:00.000-05:00

Week 48: Ottawa, Ontario

Did you miss me?? Our two week layoff sped by, during which I caught up with old friends, celebrated my birthday, got my learner's permit, saw some shows and ate like a pig! Honestly, I think I went up two waist sizes. Oh well. Running around in chain mail will burn it off.

You can imagine how very strange it was to spend our opening night in the capital of Canada during the election of Barack Obama. After our performance, a big group of us went to a local pub and watched with eager anticipation and growing excitement as the returns came in and Obama emerged victorious. There was a wonderful feeling of fellowship amongst us, this little band of theatre folk in another country, feeling the pride of being Americans and the elation of being a part of history. It was the first time in years that I felt truly proud to be an American, and while President-Elect Obama has an arduous and heavy challenge ahead of him, I believe that he has the strength and vision to see us through. And perhaps now more Americans will be involved in the process and will participate in government and the furtherance of the causes they believe in. May God guide the footsteps of our 44th president.

Ottawa is our final Canadian stop on the tour. Located on the border between the provinces of Ontario and Quebec on the Ottawa River, the city's name is derived from the Odawa people, a native tribe that once occupied this region. There is a legend that the city was chosen to be the capital of Canada by Queen Victoria, who allegedly took her hatpin and stuck it in a spot halfway between Toronto and Montreal. With the city of Gatineau and the province of Quebec directly across the river, there is a decidedly French feeling to this area. Some of the architecture, from the houses of Parliament to the Fairmont Chateau Laurier Hotel, is truly majestic and very Parisian in feeling. French is spoken as much as English here and there is a rich multi-cultural life. "Spamalot" is performing in the vast National Arts Centre this week, and unlike our engagements in Vancouver and Toronto, our run is completely sold out here! It was a great feeling to return to the show after two weeks and to be received by such an enormous, effusive and supportive audience.

In my travels in Canada, I have visited some good art galleries, but have been disappointed in not finding a fine art museum that has the kind of European antiquities that I am passionate about. Well, the National Gallery of Canada here in Ottawa did not disappoint. What a marvelous structure, and the permanent collection is first rate.
I have a passion for the Italian Baroque as well as the Venetian artists of the 18th century, and this museum has many fine examples of both, in particular some very important large Venetian scenes by Canaletto. All periods of European painting are represented, with some fine examples by Rubens, Boticelli and others; there are some excellent Impressionist paintings including two stunning Monet landscapes, and one of Rodin's great bronzes, Age of Bronze. There was a temporary exhibit of American/Hungarian photographer Andre Keretsz that I found particularly exciting. Most of the photos were taken in the 20s and 30s in Paris and New York and Keretsz had a wonderful eye for detail that I really responded to. After my visit to the museum, I wandered through By Ward Market, one of Canada's oldest public markets, dating back to the early 19th century. This charming area is now home not only to produce and fine gourmet food stalls, but pubs and restaurants and fancy designer furniture and clothing stores. Ottawa is a classy town.

On Thursday, the company treated me and a few others who celebrated birthdays during the layoff to a birthday cake.
This is a "Spamalot" tradition--each member of cast and crew gets a cake on their birthday, usually presented at intermission of a performance, with much frivolity and good will. It was a nice surprise to have a second birthday celebration. With me in this photo are my buddy Tim and Francesca, one of our stage managers, who always takes on the duty of cutting and serving the birthday cakes.

My Ottawa dresser is Adelle.
This is only Adelle's second show and she has done a terrific job. She, like many of the dressers I have worked with on tour, came to wardrobe work after retirement and she seems to be enjoying herself amongst the crazies of the theatre! Ottawa has been a pleasant, successful and gratifying last stop in Canada. Next week, it's Norfolk, Virginia. Until then, best wishes to all.