All in the Family

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

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

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

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

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...

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

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.