Thursday, July 2, 2015

Another chance to disapprove, another brilliant zinger...




June is Tony Awards month. And with the Tony Awards comes triumph and heartbreak. With this one night Broadway is shaped and molded into what it’ll be until the next wave of shows open. Careers are made and lives forever changed.

The Tony for best actress in a musical was a tough decision. You had new comer Leanne Cope, Beth Malone, Broadway legend Chita Rivera, and Stage Veterans Kristen Chenoweth and Kelli O’Hara, who had been nominated six times without a win.

By the way I secretly believe that Kelli O’Hara and Audra McDonald are the same person. I’ve never seen them in the same room together. And personally I think they look uncannily similar.

This year saw the first win for Kelli O’Hara, or Audra II as I call her. So I guess that would make this Audra McDonald’s seventh Tony win. You go girl!

Along with the Tony Awards comes the tirade of social media opinions. Everyone sounds off on which shows/people won, which shows/people should have won and which shows/people were snubbed. Heated discussions ensue. And then comes the backlash about the heated discussions. An old colleague of mine threw his hat into the ring with this Facebook post:


“Could EVERYBODY just for ONCE be grateful for what we do and the time and effort that people put in to create and do the Tony Awards ... if any of you arm chair critics were lucky enough to have landed one of these shows that were nominated for a Tony , I'm quite sure your posts would be of a different nature ... everyone's entitled to your opinion but REALLY ??? this is what we DO ... LOVE and SUPPORT people... LOVE and SUPPORT”


I recently went to a seminar about producing commercial theatre, mainly musicals, on Broadway. The reason I went was simple. I wrote a full length book musical. I want that musical to eventually be on Broadway. I know nothing about that aspect of the business, producing a show.

The composer of my show was out of town performing so I went to the seminar by myself. I had no idea what to expect. I just assumed it would be a lot of old washed up actors trying desperately to stay connected to the business by whatever means they could. I also assumed I wouldn’t know anyone there or have any connection to that part of the business. Well I couldn’t have been more wrong. 

The demographic of participants was varied. And yes it did include some very much older show business types. It also included some very young show business types. It included several current Broadway actors as well as new Equity members. In attendance were several people I personally and or professionally knew.

From across the hallway during a break, a Broadway actor and I immediately recognized each other. We squealed with delight, like actors do when seeing each other after a long absence. We hugged and then proceeded to catch up. Seeing her brought back so many memories.

The production we did together was the first time the rights for our show had been released. Our production was the first production of that show regionally after the Broadway run. It was being produced close enough to the City that a myriad of Broadway associated people came to see it.

This was a big deal for me. It was only my second Equity show. And it was my first professional experience being the romantic lead in a show, complete with romantic ballad. My bestie Thurston had been initially called back for the role, but he didn’t book it. I booked the role, after having been cut from the initial audition and then going to a subsequent call for the same role.

Ah those early innocent days of auditioning...

Recently I was in line waiting for an audition. There were about ten people ahead of me, including a woman directly in front of me and a young guy in front of her. The woman looked like she was a “broad”. You know the type: loud, boisterous, pants wearing, been there done that kinda gal who could kill you with one look. The guy was your typical young best friend of the boy next door: quirky-nerdy, nice, and sweet. wouldn’t hurt a fly. The monitor gave us the usual lining up in the hallway speech which includes being respectful of the other actors in line: be quiet, let people focus, don’t use your phones etc. So the three of us stood in silence with the others waiting for our individual turns to audition.

Slowly the line dwindled down. Now I was third to go in the room. Ahead of me was the broad and ahead of her was the young boy. The young boy, who was now at the door, next to go in, turned to the broad and said:


“This is my first Equity Audition. I don’t know what to do. Do I walk in and give them my picture and resume?”


I thought “there is nothing loving and supportive about to happen here...”

After one performance of my second Equity show I was on my way out of the theatre when I saw a friend of friend. He was one of the Broadway people who had come to see this first mounting of the show. I had met the guy a couple of times. I didn’t really know him. He didn’t really know me. As I passed him I said hello. He stopped me and said “Boy, you were up on that stage, just singing and dancing”. I thanked him and went on my way, happy that he seemed to like the show.

I found out later that the guy hated me in the show. He thought I was miscast and talent free. He wanted to not say anything bad about me or my performance so he said something nebulous and vague. He let me, a young boy next door, quirky-nerdy, nice, sweet green-horn newbie make a natural conclusion that he enjoyed the show and my performance. He was under the impression that he was being “loving and supportive.”

If the guy were truly being supportive and nurturing and loving he would have taken me aside and voiced his true opinion. Being a veteran of Broadway, I would have taken his words to heart. Perhaps at that point he could’ve suggested acting teachers or vocal coaches. But because he wanted to “be supportive of all actors and show love towards his fellow performers” he let me go on stage all the while believing that what I was doing on stage was crap.

I’ll never know if my performance was good or not. Does an actor ever? The New York Times liked it and so did many others. There were some who missed the point of my character/characterization and thus reviewed me badly. Or maybe they completely understood, agreed with my friend’s friend’s assessment and reviewed me properly. At any rate these people shared their impressions of my work, good or bad. It was then up to me, as a professional to heed or revel in what they were saying, or just leave it alone. They provided me with the opportunity to learn something about myself and my Art. I could grow as a performer.

I replied to my old colleague's Facebook rant about being loving and supportive...


"...Although I love and support theatre, since it's what I do, Theatre is a business. Do you think Bankers or Brokers love and support each other? No. What about real estate agents? Do you think they're all saying "Good for you Josh Flagg for selling another 20 million dollar estate"? No. They are sizing him up, breaking him down and dissecting him to see what he is doing that they aren't. The people with ambition will try and improve upon the "performance" and surpass it, fix what they see as imperfections and take it to a new height. They ready themselves to take his place. It's this that keeps businesses growing and changing. Artists do the same, except with rawer emotions. And this is what the Theatre needs to survive: growth and change. What I would say is that we as artists need to HONOR what each of us are doing as important and vital and necessary. Sure love and support what you truly care about, what ignites something deep inside of you what moves you, entertains you and delights you, But love and support just for the sake of love and support? Eh, not so much"



Being loving and supportive for the sake of being loving and supportive is counter-productive. It’s like giving baseball teams trophies for showing up. It diminishes the work of the team that won the World Series and devalues the World Series itself.

Some people believe that the Tony Award for best actress in a musical should’ve gone to Chita Rivera. She’s a show biz living legend. Chita’s like 107 years old. She’s been there and done that, and still does it better than anyone else onstage today. When she performs you can’t pull your eyes from her. She is a star and the stage lights up when she’s on it.  Just on principle alone the Tony award should have gone to her. That’s my opinion. And right now my opinion in this matter has no bearing on the outcome. I don't exist in that aspect of the business. And first and foremost Show business is a Business.

I learned in the producing seminar that the budgets to campaign for a Tony Award win are HUGE, like millions and millions of dollars. And for whatever business reasons, maybe because of the Tony campaign, the committee decided to award Audra II the statue. It’s not always about talent. But it is always about Business.

I later saw that friend of a friend, the "you were up there singing and dancing" supportive loving guy, in a show on Broadway. He was horrendous. And quite frankly it made me happy. The man had an amazing singing voice but he could not act. Not even a little bit. You’ve heard the expression “can’t act his way out of a paper bag”? Well this guy wouldn’t be able to act his way out of a paper bag even if a saber-toothed tiger ripped it open for him. 

I chose to say nothing about the show and nothing about him or to him. He didn't deserve my opinion and insight. He was not worthy of love and support. He didn't deserve to have an opportunity to better himself.

My opinion of his lack of acting ability was later validated. His acting was so bad that a condition of him being cast in another show was that he had to take acting lessons. At the end of the lessons the production/creative team would assess whether he would actually be cast or not. That’s good business: protect and hone your investment. That’s nurturing. That is being supportive. That’s a business professional caring enough about someone else in the business to not leave him in the dark about what's really happening. 

The broad and the young boy's interaction continued before he entered the audition room:


Young boy: This is my first Equity Audition. I don’t know what to do. Do I walk in and give them my picture and resume?

Broad: (very sweetly) No. The monitor has already taken in your picture and resume. You just simply walk in and say hello. Then go straight to the accompanist and give him your music. Make sure you give him a tempo. It’s really important to give him your tempo. You walk to the center of the room and signal to the accompanist that you’re ready to start. Then you sing.

Young boy: Thank you so much.


And with that the young boy opened the door and walked in, confident he knew what to do.

I have no trouble voicing my opinion. It’s mine and it counts only as mine. It’s as important as you’d like to make it or it’s as trivial as you believe it to be. I voice my opinion because I care. Hopefully it will give you new information or a new perspective to consider. Maybe it will even make you think about and asses your own views and why you have them. Perhaps it will stir you to educate yourself, hone your talents and better equip you for the world you want to live in. That’s love and support.

As I listened to the young boy sing his heart out, and he was awesome, I turned to the broad.


Me: I hope I’m not interrupting your focus time, but I wanted to say thank you for being so kind to that young boy. Not many people would have been.

Broad: Yeah, no problem. I didn’t have the heart to tell him none of it matters, not even what he sings, since they’re just sizing him up like a piece of meat.


"...I’ll drink to that!"


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