August
4, 2005
I
think everyone who gets their first Broadway gig should be read their rights.
"Mr or Ms [insert stage name here], you have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent anything you say can and will be used against you in a gossip column."
When I started this blog six months ago, it was for a small handful of friends and supporters who came visiting because they knew me or dug my music. Lately, though, since Lennon has been preparing for its New York opening, my audience has expanded considerably, to include frequent theatre goers and gossip hounds looking for the poop. Most are interested mainly in the names already established on the scene, and since I'm virtually unknown, I can still write about my own experience for those who've been following my story, and no one else cares. But I have to be very discreet in some areas for the benefit of my friends and co-workers. It comes with the territory.
Today was a day off for the company and me. It was going to be our opening night up until about a week ago, but now it'll be a Sunday matinee on the 14th. The last show we did, Wednesday night, was a great one and we all hit Chevy's afterwards to have a drink together and toast Nicole, who had her Broadway debut last Saturday and was celebrating her birthday as well (Artie and staff came through with cake, as always). Times like these are rare, when we can all gather outside the theatre and have a laugh at ourselves. I had a particularly laughable moment during a scene with Julia. A new prop has just been added, a sketch pad which I use to doodle on while Julia sings (it was one of John Lennon's habits; he drew constantly). At one point she holds out her hand and I'm supposed to take it, but I got carried away with my pencil and left her hanging there with her hand out for about eight seconds! I doubt if the audience noticed, but the people onstage nearly lost it. I can only imagine how funny it looked.
This slot that I've been covering up to now involves a handful of very small roles, such as a senator's intern, a reporter, a concertgoer, and George Harrison. The rest of it is all John through the ages. I think it has suited me well, as I've spent a lot of time observing the differences in Lennon's voice and demeanor at different phases, and I get to dip into nearly all of them at some point. Sometimes I think I know the character too well for my own good. I tend to throw in a subtle cheeky gesture here and there that's lost on most of the crowd, so I have to cut it out. "Nobody knows but me."
In the past three weeks I've gained a ton of stage experience - eighteen shows in all. I'm not scheduled to go on again at this time, nor do I expect to be. But my job is to be prepared to go on for any one of three guys at any given time, with or without prior notice or rehearsal. The pressure has been enormous, but I've handled it with a firm amount of grace, and I've grown a little more comfortable each time. More importantly, the others onstage are comfortable with me, and I find that remarkable. To be thrown in at the last minute and actually be able to kick it with these players and have them enjoy it...well it's a feeling that I myself can only describe as one of manhood.