I’d never experienced a rehearsal period as a battlefield. “Earnest”, at the end of each day, left the wounded and maimed on the rehearsal room floor, dragging themselves toward the exits, seeking emotional solace at the nearest bar. I was never among the injured and I didn’t drink, so my involvement in that drama was minimal. My observations, private and internal, were from a distance, and only now find release. As time went on, the mood in the room grew darker and darker.
An actor’s approach to their work is incredibly personal. Most of the time, that process is kept firmly contained below the surface, internally modified with each new set of conditions in the rehearsal room. When it isn’t, when “the play’s the thing” mentality is set aside and Ego becomes the driving force, the result is uncomfortable and counter-productive. In our case, this very quickly became the status quo. The degree of contention in every quarter was embarrassing and frequent. I suppose at base, these were nice people. I mean, they surely had loved ones and friends with whom they interacted well, social relationships that kept them on an even keel. But this was something else altogether. Niceties gradually disappeared and the personal dynamics became fraught, verbally combative and unpleasant. People were afraid of each other, openly antagonistic and rude, and it was all I could do to maintain focus as all this happened around me.
Susan Clarke, a television performer from the U.S. (notably for her role as “Webster’s” TV Mom) was playing ‘Lady Bracknell’. While this casting might have been questionable, her work was clear, with a secure and wholly believable English accent and she seemed to stay above the fray … perhaps because she was “from away” and had no connection to these “colonials” and their petty squabbles. I, too, was having no problems, but just watching it all take place was extremely disheartening. Our hometown folks (Mairi Babb, Teri Cherniak, David Warburton) were doing great work and seemed placid enough. But every now and then they would be drawn into the conflicts that originated with the Toronto visitors. Over the years, I’d become painfully aware (and have written about it in other postings) that our Eastern friends had a distinct attitude when playing “the provinces”, a superior air that would invade the space and colour the mood. I vowed it would be my last experience in this type of environment.
Things calmed down once we were into tech. The play was pretty well set, and the first run with costumes and hair brought everything down to the lowest common denominator – when everyone had to tuck their discontent behind the character’s trappings and focus on creating the reality of the piece. Since I was playing two roles, they had to be as distinct from each other as I could make them … and the externals were my foundation. While ‘Lane’, at the top of the show, was pretty well straight-forward looking basically Richard, it was ‘Merriman’ in the later scenes that took everyone by surprise when I walked out in full regalia … and three inches shorter. I had conspired with the Costume folks to provide me with very wide (period correct) pants that would allow me enough room in the legs to bend my knees without it being obvious and thus reducing my height. It took a bit of getting used to walking with bent knees like that, but only served to add to the age of the character – old and decrepit. A little theatrical trickery which I loved mining for all it was worth. The first time I appeared fully got up as ‘Merriman’, the cast went nuts.
Opening was quiet, not as full a house as I would have expected, but the response was positive. By the time the cast got upstairs to the Lobby afterward, the crowd had pretty well cleared out and all the food was gone. I stayed for a very short while, said hello to friends and left feeling a tad let down. But then, that probably summed up the whole experience as far as I was concerned. Once into the routine of the run, the relationship between “Actors” and “Human Beings” became much more comfortable – the stress of rehearsals was gone and with the production up and running, we had the chance to get to know each other socially, or as “social” as one can get during performances. Away from the tensions of rehearsals, the folks turned out to be rather pleasant. There remained some distance between a few of us, but then, not everyone is always a “fit” and that was alright. Since I had a lot of time off stage, my dressing room became “Central” for the on-going Scrabble games that helped us pass the time. On the surface everything toddled along, but after the opening, I think we all started counting down the days until it was over … which is never a good sign. Sadly, “Earnest” just didn’t turn out to be one that would go down in the “I-could-have-done-this-show-forever” book.
During the run, MSI kept my days full as always, with the payrolls and budgets. But now, since I had booked a cruise on the Queen Mary II to the Eastern Caribbean for a couple of weeks, I had to arrange for the weeklies to be dealt with in our office during my absence. The ship would not be able to accommodate all the faxing I needed to do to meet deadlines. As I started organizing the details for others to deal with, I found myself seriously thinking about what this job actually entailed, how complicated it had become. Over time, it had evolved organically, incrementally, addressing individual circumstances as they arose, and had morphed into what was now the company’s operating structure. With retirement thoughts growing more persistent, the thought of someone else doing this job frightened me a little – both personally and professionally. There was no date set for my departure, but the notion started to colour the time ahead. It affected how I felt about the job and seemed to ease the pressure I had been putting on myself for almost twenty years now. It wasn’t that I didn’t care any longer, but I came to realize that the all-consuming, all controlling intensity was wearing me down. Sam and I had superficially talked about it and, in his mind, the sooner someone could begin “training” to take over the better. Identifying who that person would be was another thing altogether. And even more difficult, at least for me, would be formally setting down what I actually did – the job description! The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this job was huge! In structural terms I was now Vice President and CFO of a multi-million dollar company, established and respected in the Industry. How would I even begin to write this down?
I’d never gone on a cruise before. The Queen Mary II was the ultimate in luxury, a self-contained floating city and nothing to do but relax. The otherworldly isolation drove me inward. With stabilizers and modern engines, one doesn’t feel the motion of the sea. At night, standing on a darkened deck, the vastness of the sky is astonishing. One feels so small and a bit lost … “at sea”. My life was on the brink of fundamental change, and I would just have to deal with it.
Just to keep one foot in the real world, I started organizing myself for “The Full Monty”. As a Director, this was a part of the process I loved most, making notes for the opening remarks, creating a timetable and laying out a framework in which everyone could feel comfortable and productive. By the end of the first week, Act One would be done and ready for a run, and we’d be touching on Act Two. Thankfully, the casting had come together and I was very pleased that there would be no chasing down of first choices because we’d waited too long to make offers. I had the folks I wanted signed and sealed. Once I set foot on dry land, all would be straight forward – a week in New York and then straight into rehearsals.
The week in New York after the cruise was special because my good friend Olaf (“The Wave”) Pyttlik was in town and we spent days together seeing shows, sightseeing, and an entire morning walking around Lower Manhattan in pursuit of a vintage and very expensive Les Paul guitar Olaf had heard was for sale. It was fascinating hearing him discuss the pros and cons of the instrument with the shop salesmen and then to barter with them and settle on a price. In the course of that evening and the dinner that followed, in typical Olaf style, he fretted and questioned whether his ultimate purchase had been the right one. That angst-ing went on for a couple of days until he discovered that Les Paul himself was appearing at a little jazz club up on 59th Street. He hauled himself (and the guitar) up to the club and, wonder of wonders, the fabled guitarist signed Olaf’s new purchase. It made the trip for him. We also went to see “Bodies; The Exhibition” which was happening at the South Street Seaport. Olaf always had a unique way of looking at the world and going to this exhibit was something I would never have done had I been by myself. It was a rather creepy experience, looking at real human bodies that had been preserved through a process called “plastination” and then taken apart and put back together to show how the human body works. There had been a lot of controversy surrounding this travelling exhibit because the subjects, deceased Chinese prisoners, had been “used” without any consent by either themselves when they were alive or their families afterward. Caught in the Olaf Whirlwind for this week, I became very aware of how sheltered an existence I had been living for perhaps much too long. He also convinced me to go see a production from Argentina called “Fuerza Bruta”! If you don’t know what that is, there is no way I can describe this extraordinary theatrical experience! Google it (“fuerzabrutaglobal.com”) and if you ever have a chance to see it, don’t hesitate … GO! Trust Olaf to open my eyes! But the break was over. I left this high energy fantasyland behind, ibuprofen coursing through my body to ease the pain from days spent walking the Streets of New York with Olaf.
They say that casting is ninety percent of the job and I’d done my job in spades with “Monty”! One doesn’t really know that to be the case before rehearsals begin. One hopes, but it’s not until folks are in the room, on their feet and working that one knows for sure. There was immediate confirmation on our first day. My six guys (Steve Ross, Jeremy Koz, Marc Devigne, Mantee Murphy, Jeff Kohut and Gord Tanner) bonded as soon as they saw each other. There was no hanging back. From the very first moment, they launched into the blocking and musical numbers (Scott Peter as our Choreographer) with incredible energy, great humour and inventiveness, and it only got better as time went on. I was in heaven. It was so smooth and easy. The ladies (Debbie Maslowsky, Stacey Nattrass, Melanie Whyte) were the emotional anchors for the show, devoted and loyal, funny and willing to do just about anything to make something work, never shying away from a difficult moment. Oh, Lands, but they were good! I could not have asked for better artists!
“The Full Monty” tells the story of a group of unemployed steelworkers in Buffalo, N.Y. who, in order to raise some bucks, decide to present a strip act at a local club after seeing their wives enthusiastic response to The Chippendales and the money that act generated. There is a heart and warmth built into this show as these loveable regular guys discover and overcome their inner demons and insecurities.
The show-long lead up to the strip that the boys have to do took a couple of weeks to set in place. But we eventually got to “it”. For so long during rehearsals, the actual doing of it had remained a complete unknown. The mechanics of the strip had been worked thoroughly in advance, clothes on, and the choreography memorized. But it was all theoretical! Getting down to their “gotch” was scheduled toward the end of the second week. There was no way to tell what it was going to look and feel like until they did it. And that actually happened spontaneously one afternoon – a surprise to everyone, including themselves – a very natural progression during a run. Rather than stopping when they reach the song “Let It Go”, they just did it! Without encouragement or urging from me, it just happened. That was the first hurdle, and it was done. It was incredibly touching. The boys were so in tune with each other, all a bit nervous but honestly desperate to make it work, and, at the same time, having a great deal of fun! Next was doing it with the breakaway costumes but that had to be put off for a few days because they were late arriving from the South. It was frustrating because now they were tugging at the bit to do the real thing. The clothes eventually arrived. It was a case of them doing the strip down to their own underwear (which they wore under the G-strings) to get comfortable and accurate in the mechanics of taking off everything they were wearing.
The afternoon of the costume run of the Second Act was fraught with anticipation. The whole cast was in the rehearsal room for the first time and as we got closer to the Finale you could feel the energy in the room rising. The boys started the number. The jackets and ties and shirts came off. The break-away pants disappeared at exactly the same time and the cast went nuts. They started screaming and hooting and that just served to buoy the guys on the rehearsal hall floor. Then it was down to the G-string and finally losing that. When it was done, the cast stood and applauded and yelled at the bravery of my boys and how great it had gone. I doubled over with laughter as it happened, more out of relief that it worked than out of amusement. “What a rush” was Steve’s comment. The crucial test wouldn’t happen until we got into the theatre.
The move into the Pantages was very easy, at least for the cast. Everything was in place as far as their work was concerned. There were some spacing things and an entrance or two that had to be altered, but for the most part, I knew we would sail through this with flying colours. The set was a bit shabbier than I thought it should have been considering it was a rental and was supposed to be in working order upon its arrival. But we had it repaired in no time and everything was running smoothly. It wasn’t until the Thursday before opening that the guys finally went down to the buff!
We cleared the Theatre of all non-essential folks and they got into their security guard uniforms, this time with no underwear. Scott’s choreography was done to perfection, their voices, now mic-ed, rang out in the house, and I could tell that the guys were having great fun. Then, in a blink, it was done. The lead up to the final pose was complicated and had to be timed immaculately with the crucial lighting cue. At this point, they had only their security guard hats in their hands covering their private parts as they did the last steps of the routine. On the final musical button they simultaneously throw their hats away and step into a naked spread eagle pose as the huge wall of marquee lighting behind them spelling out “The Full Monty” flashes to life, basically blinding the audience for three or four seconds, silhouetting the naked guys followed by a blackout. Timing was everything. We had taken great care to make sure the boys felt as “safe” as possible. They were shown what the lighting looked like from both sides of the proscenium. From the on stage perspective the entire house was lit up like high noon from the marquee lights. They had that experience first. There is no way to trick your mind into believing that the folks looking back at you couldn’t see “everything”. You could see their lit up faces in perfect detail … why couldn’t they see yours? It was very disconcerting. But sitting them in the house and having some stage hands play them in the moment the lighting cue happened, they understood that, indeed, they were blinded by the dazzling lights. In the days that followed they got to do it five or six more times and it didn’t seem to bother them in the slightest. The next test would be opening and 1600 people looking at them!
These talented young guys had been fully committed from the outset and met each challenge with a “this-is-the-job” attitude. Early on in the show, Jeff Kohut had to “audition” for the group showing his “reportedly prodigious credentials”, bare butt to the real audience but supposedly exposed to his friends. He wore a “sock” in the show, but in the absurdity of the moment as the guys have to look at “it” they could hardly control themselves. In fact they did lose it a few times. But the good humour of it all anchored the work and by the time we opened, they were having a total blast!
Jeremy carried a huge burden as the major character in the show, and there were moments of understandable insecurity at times, but just before opening he settled in and blew me away with his truth and appealing vulnerability as both the character and the actor. There was a funny, crusty, open quality about him that went right to one’s heart. I told them all how proud I was of them and so grateful for their trust and honesty. I also told them I was completely overwhelmed by their trust of each other. When the Orchestra finally hit the pit and when Michael Walton’s grungy, industrial and theatrical lighting defined the stage, I knew this was another really GOOD show! It only remained that Winnipeg thought the same thing I did.
The structure of the story line is a constant tease leading, of course, to the big final strip number, “Let It Go”. The Pantages is laid out with boxes abutting each side of the stage and that is where we put the girlfriends and wives of the men. They would act as a subtle “guide” for how the real audience should be reacting. But on Opening Night, the real folks didn’t need any guidance! They played their part, laughing, cheering, applauding and laughing some more. All the performers nailed their roles, maintaining that honesty and focus, carefully building the dramatic arc of the song – tentative and slightly scared at the start, but slowly, with the vocal encouragement of the ladies, gaining more and more momentum. But by the time the clothes started coming off, everyone in the Theatre was on the same page. The screaming and yelling was overwhelming, and the guys played it for all they were worth, becoming more and more brazen and confident. I held my breath as we approached the last moments. The boys have been coerced by the girls in the house into “taking it all off”. After a moment of hesitation, the music ramps up into full bore, the dance continues, and the boxer shorts came off and are discarded leaving them in only G-strings. After few more dance steps sashaying up stage, bare butts to the house, they unhook their G-strings which spring free and are now hanging down from the hand protecting their modesty; the hat in the other hand comes down, covering the unloosed G-string for an instant. The G-strings are discarded at exactly the same time, and after another four steps toward the house, they plant themselves, legs spread apart and, with the final “whomp” played by the orchestra, they lift their hats above their heads and the wall of light snaps on, blindingly, to end the song.
The house EXPLODED! I just started laughing out loud, again with relief. The audience rose to their feet en masse and cheered. The guys came out for their bows in white terry cloth bathrobes and were hailed even louder by the house! I was so proud of their work and took heart that we probably had a great run to look forward to. The after-party was joyous and somewhat giddily manic for all of us, and I got the feeling that the cast was anxious to settle in for the rest of the run.
But those anticipated houses and sales didn’t materialize. No one could figure out why. It drove Ken mad. Folks who did come went wild for the production, but box office never took off and that baffled and angered him. I was sad for the cast. They deserved full houses. I’d not been this emotionally connected to a group of folks in a while, and, as the show whimpered to a close, we all took heart that we’d done our best. What was next?