Antagony

THEATER 74
-summer 2005
My first year in New York, i spent more time writing than acting, which was kind of cool. But my old buddy Chris Capp came calling, wanting to stage an original play he’d written. It was fascinating, a semi-autobiographical one-man show about a homeless heroin junkie who speaks directly to the audience. The junkie, Mac, relates tales of his life, from Vietnam to Wall Street to the street. He talks of his wife and kids, whom he hasn’t seen in years. He talks of his dead dog Blackie, his only friend. Extremely edgy, it begins and ends with a shooting; heroin at the start, and shot dead by an audience member at the end. He yells and cries at them, berating and abusing. It was indistinct in terms of dramatic structure, but that appealed to me. Very much like Chris himself, you either loved it or hated it. He had been such a supporter of my work at the Orpheus and Red Curtain, the only community member who had ever spontaneously slid money into my hand. I had rented an apartment in the house he shared with his mother Irene, and the low rate they charged allowed me to more easily continue creating. Chris had been the publisher of Fort Myers Beach’s only independent newspaper. He lived a life calculated to shock and provoke, but beneath the contentiousness was deep caring. His mother was just as wonderful in a more reserved and classy way, and the year i spent with them was beautiful. I had reservations about the piece, though. It would be tough, in terms of vocal control. And as a play, i wasn’t sure whether it were more striking than brilliant. And with Mac being 55, i wasn’t convinced i was old enough. I’d always felt that Chris himself was the perfect choice, but he maintained that he was no actor. I knew it would absorb a big chunk of my life, time that might be spent pursuing more personal projects. But i knew it would also be very rewarding, and in world where mediocrity is often venerated, it was a piece that needed doing. So i said yes. It ran about an hour, with two short intermissions. Chris handled the producing – it was nice to just act and direct. He did a lovely job, as we prepared for an open-ended run at the LBI Beach Haven fire hall. I arrived a few days before we opened. Chris ran lights and sound, and we called on our old Red Curtain buddy Paul to help too. It was a sweet reunion. For the audience plant who speaks a few lines as i badger and insult him, then shoots me, i enlisted my brother John, whom i was living with in Jersey City. It would be the first time we’d shared a stage since M.P.C.Y.C.’s JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR a decade or so before. We used a starter pistol for the shooting, and Johnny was all too happy to murder me. He took great delight in developing a Jersey goombah character, too. The script was tough to memorize, because it was non-sequential (indeed, during the second performance i was ALL over the place…a tight-rope act that few actors ever experience). I used my writing skills to hone the piece, even adding a few ideas and lines. Opening night was…well, amazing. We had a wonderful house of 100 or so. Despite technical glitches, the energy was crackling and the audience was with me from start to finish. Many of my family were there (the LBI location was nice, as that was where John’s grandmother lived). Chris had asked about him giving a pre-show speech. I thought not, especially not some B.S. about my dedication as an artist. I felt that drawing attention to the fact that i was an ACTOR would only make my job (making the audience feel off-balance) harder. He agreed, then went ahead and did it anyway. I couldn’t be too mad, as his gratitude was so sincere. At the end, the plan had been for me to not move from my death position, leaving the audience unsure as they leave the building. But Chris was so happy that he jumped up and asked me to take a bow. After a few moments, i complied. After months of preparation, the come-down was so peaceful and beautiful. The next day, my throat was raw, so when Chris came to me with reservations about a lack of reservations, i was content to postpone that night’s show. We were both wiped out. That day we relaxed on the beach, which i hadn’t had time for in the days leading up to the show. Several reviews came out, one of which was very, very gratifying. We had one more performance a few weeks later. Chris found a louder gun which i thought was maybe too much, but he and Johnny really wanted it. With only twenty-five audience members, the energy got sucked into some hole from which i couldn’t pull it out. It was perhaps the most “high school”-ish feeling acting i’d done since, well, maybe ever. On the plus side, the earlier technical glitches went BEAUTIFULLY (in the opening night "penis rap", the accompanying music was so soft that i’d lost the beat…but that and the synching of the heroin injection music was just perfect the second night). And the show did end with a bang, as the extra-loud shot tore through the hall. This time, i stayed down. It felt nice lying there. Despite the off night, i wasn’t too unhappy. A bad night in the theater still feels better than most other good nights. And sometimes there’s a certain beauty in a crappy show, if your humor is perverse enough. Mine is. The fire hall was next to a police station, and all along John had been worried about the shots attracting the wrong attention from the boys in blue, as he shoots me, then runs out and around the building. Sure enough, as he tore around the building that night, an officer came investigating. John had the gun re-holstered, and kept his hands well visible. We talked of doing the show again, perhaps on a college tour or in Florida. While not giving a definite no, i told Chris that i hadn’t been able to gain total control vocally, so it might be time for someone else to take over. An amazing piece.