"Good People"

THEATER 81
-winter 2015
I'd been in Florida over a year, and was comfortably ensconced in my little beach home, happy to be a semi-hermit writer. I thought it might be nice to do a play - partly to invigorate my social life, and partly to make a lovely memory for my mom and aunt before i moved on. They had known me for most of my life as an actor...even though they occasionally appreciated my writing, i knew they'd love something more familiar (and less challenging). Given my emotional weariness, i wanted something fun...a great part in a comedy. A chance to be in gurney's "Sylvia" came my way, at the Pirate/Wood (now Strauss) Theater. How sweetly perfect it would be to act on that stage again. But the part was so-so, and Act II was weak. Then bill taylor at the Theatre Conspiracy asked me to audition for "Good People", by david lindsay-abaire. It was one of the few Lee County stages on which i'd never acted. I'd always liked bill socially, and admired the plays they did. This one was not light...a powerhouse that dealt with classism and racism. The director, mike breen, wanted me to be mikey dillon, a doctor who had escaped his impoverished South Boston roots. Thirty years later, he reunites with margie, a teenage love still living in Southie poverty, along with a mentally retarded adult daughter. I'd perhaps never read any play that so deftly showed how we hold on to our vain self-images, and need so much for the world to affirm who we think we are. Dr. mikey has a young, black wife. My being romantically connected to two characters meant a fair chance that offstage romance might arise (a non-artistic motivation, to be sure...but i'd had no romance in almost two years). Upon meeting the actress playing margie, i felt a rush of openness and confidence. And i felt an instant connection with the actress playing kate, the wife. But the heaviness of the play scared me...knowing how low my emotional walls were, it would be hard living such brutal emotions over and over. I asked mike how much faith he had in his second choice for the part. If he'd replied with affirmation, i'd have told him to give the part to that actor. But he didn't. I liked mike's energy, and embracing my belief that we're here to help others, i agreed to do it. I also knew that stephanie davis, the demi to my tom in "A Few Good Men", would be in the play, and that made it easier to say yes. I hadn't seen her in many years, and was delighted at the thought of becoming better friends. The actors were unpaid, and it felt right to officially call an end to the decade-plus period in which i'd acted only for money. Even though my reasons had been about respect rather than greed, my philosophies about materialism and sharing had since evolved to the point that my earlier vow seemed wrong-headed. The only time i had any financial grumble during the run was when a theater charging $25 a seat asked me to pay $16 for a haircut. Initially, i had some romantic fantasies about the actress playing kate, despite the fact that she was a christian fundamentalist (once backstage, i asked whether anyone had ever been mean to her - she replied "satan"). I wasn't deterred, and had she shown any personal interest in me, i'd have explored it. But she never opened up emotionally. I was worried that this would stunt our onstage potential, and it probably did...but ultimately she showed genuine talent, and we were comfortable onstage. I went out of my way to try to make her feel part of the group...knowing theater people, i knew that religiosity might cause division. Indeed, margie said she almost quit the show, upon learning of kate's fundamentalism. At first, rehearsals were lovely, thanks to mike's relaxed hand. And soon, my romantic fantasies transferred to margie. I loved the fact that i was attracted despite her being overweight - i grew enamored of every extra curve (perhaps the first time in my life i could absolutely say such a thing). And romance or no, i was encouraged by our artistic, platonic potential. Early on, she asked me to do an extra line rehearsal, and we spent more time just chatting than i'd expected. I was surprised and honored. But that was our high point, and would that i could have seen the coming darkness. I gave her encouragement and affirmation, and tried to lead the way by displaying emotional openness with both of them. I became aware in the last couple weeks before opening, however, that our communication lines were diminishing, not growing. I attributed it to the weight of the part she was playing...there were only a few minutes she wasn't onstage. But my growing unease burst into unhappy reality on opening weekend. Acting against the emotional wall she had around her, was awful. It wasn't just indifference - onstage and off, i could feel dark emotions directed at me. Was she one of those ultra-method actors who don't differentiate between actor and character? I didn't think so. The only person i'd told about my little crush was steph. Did it get back to margie, and trigger some loathing? The next few weeks were the most relentless, stressful misery i'd ever lived. It was torturous because of the schizophrenic quality - in three of our eighteen total scenes, she was open and supportive. In twelve, she was closed off. In the remaining three, her dislike of me felt palpable. Had i been a disappointment to her artistically? I'd given her cause to feel that way, perhaps. Most of the cast had adopted Southie accents, and in the last couple weeks of rehearsal i made a radical shift, switching from full accent to slight - i decided my character had spent his life trying cover up his past, and that the accent only really came out when he was drunk or upset (in other words, much of Act II). It was a subtle challenge, and i sucked for a while. And margie was relentless in pushing us to pick up lines...something i feel generally comfy with, as i've long told actors that lines usually begin before the other character stops talking, not after. But once during rehearsal, she yelled at me, and was right on that boundary between good-natured and disgusted. I felt that if kate or i waited one millisecond longer than margie liked, she was content to bulldoze past our lines (something she did during performances, too). Was i ever a little slow? Sure. But during one rehearsal, mike sided with me when i said i thought there should be a pause before one of my lines. It all added up to a non-supportive environment, in which actors don't feel safe and free to explore...and that was even before the negative personal energy. The words of andre previn resonated in me, to the effect of "great music can't be made by people who don't like each other". One night, my old college friend greg longenhagen came to rehearsal, as a dialect coach. I was delighted...yet somehow almost ashamed. The first non-paying gig i'd accepted in over a decade, and a college peer has to show up? To say nothing of my accent being a mess? I can laugh at my insecurity. We're all so damaged...drive out 999 demons of vanity, and that thousandth one will worm its way in. Eventually i felt okay with my work, but i knew that the poisoned environment meant our show would never achieve its potential. Looking back, it's easy to second-guess myself for not bringing my concerns to mike...i had too much faith in my ability to make things right. And he pretty much disappeared after opening. For a brief time, i thought her strange energy might have been because she was attracted to me (wishful...). By the time i knew it was darker than that, i felt that confronting her might only make things worse. So i sucked it up, and night after night did my best to convince the audience that nothing was wrong. Had there been an understudy, i would so gratefully have relinquished the part. As it was, by the third week the stress was destroying me...aches, insomnia, and worst of all the stomach sickness i had left New York to heal, was back with a vengeance. Had the show run four or five weeks, i genuinely believe i might have ended up in a hospital (i'm not given to hyperbole, i promise). I grasped for an explanation. Under such conditions, persecution and paranoia fuck with you. I thought of times when i'd opened myself to being misunderstood or vilified, and people i'd rubbed the wrong way...was some past demon haunting me? Had i been too frank with her, in speculating on the sexual history of our characters? The infrequent moments that she momentarily treated me like a human almost made things worse. The way she said goodbye on closing night (terse and from ten feet away), were the final spit of salt on the wound. Kate's goodbye was about the same, minus the edge...as though a rehearsal had ended, not a run. And what of the rest of the cast? Unprecedentedly, i shared no stage time with four of the seven. And very little rehearsal time. Was i even in a play with them? It was bizarre and disjointed. I didn't share my problems with steph, as i didn't want to risk spreading the negativity, and she seemed a bit cold to me. I shared a dressing room with the one actor in the cast who seemed close to margie. For a brief time, i thought he didn't like me either. Perhaps that was just paranoia, because during the run he was kind. He's the only person i partially opened up to, taking him aside to ask for advice. He replied with nothing concrete. I sent a note after the show asking whether he'd known more than he'd let on, but he didn't reply. A post-show note to steph explaining my low energy also went unanswered. I felt some affinity and closeness with the remaining cast member, but our energy was precarious, as i think she was attracted. I almost pursued it, but had a feeling she'd realize i wasn't her type, and indeed there was a shift in her energy the final week, when she seemed to no longer find me charming. Happily, there was one angel in the cast - our uncredited seventh actor, ken johnson, with whom i'd shared such wonderful memories in "Twain by the Tale" on Sanibel. He was the assistant stage manager, and offstage voice of the priest. I was floored when i discovered he was joining us, and more than a little relieved. When i say his presence saved my life, i hope i'm exaggerating. I also had a lovely connection with the stage manager angie. She was perhaps more patient with semi-idiotic actor questions than any SM i'd known. And the audience? So sweet...occasionally i could almost feel the joy of that connection. There was more laughter than we'd expected, and they got so agitated over the unresolved question of whether mikey was the father. Mom came three times. Even though the audience disappeared more quickly than with any theater i'd known, those who remained gave some humbling feedback. One said that my accent had been the most authentic. Another, who may have seen every show in the Conspiracy's 10-20 year history, said that we might have been the best show they'd ever done.

(for a follow-up, see http://nakedmeadow.blogspot.com/2015/03/good-people-leftovers.html)