ALMOST BROADWAY

My first Broadway show came after I’d been in NYC for 12 years. I had a couple

of reasonably close calls before that.

1984: Rehearsing TRIXIE TRUE, TEEN DETECTIVE in Delaware. One night,

Jennifer called to tell me that I had an audition in NYC the next day for SUNDAY IN

THE PARK WITH GEORGE. I’d have to get out of rehearsal… I MUST get out

because casting director John Lyons said it was an emergency audition, they were

seeing four guys and “one will leave with the job.”  The role was the American tourist

and understudy for Louis the Baker. 

I called our director and asked for a day off. I was hopeful because, though I  was

always onstage, much of it was sitting, listening. He said, “sorry, I can’t spare you.”  I

whined and begged but, “no, sorry.”  That was that.

Next day at rehearsal I sat onstage all day, listening to others, and did nothing

myself. No songs, no scenes, no nothing. Didn’t speak a word.

1988. Open call for the upcoming LEGS DIAMOND. Casting director Meg Simon

behind the table. I sang and read and got a callback on the spot. 

At the callback, Meg Simon again, also the director and musical director. I sang

and read a scene from the show (with a charming Irish lilt eff oi seh so muhself).

Then a callback in the large audition room at Equity, for Peter Allen. He was the

star and composer and kind of a big deal for a minute. THE BOY FROM OZ was

about him, with Hugh Jackman playing Allen.

I watched seven or eight guys go through the same routine: a guy would go into

the room, audition, exit, and wait. After 15-30 seconds, a young lady came out of the

room, told him he was free to go, and called the next auditioner in.

I was the last guy. 

There was a mess o’ folks behind the table.  20-something people packed in there

including Meg Simon.  Seated comfortably at the center of the table was Peter Allen. 

He greeted me and told me to sing. I did. Felt good. The crowd even applauded. I

then read my Irish scene. Got a couple of sweet laughs. 

Finished, thanked, and asked to wait outside. Just like everybody else. 

So I waited. 20 seconds passed, 30 seconds, 45 seconds… Nobody came out of

the room. A minute, two minutes…I’m not sure how long, but much longer than

anyone else had waited. Had they forgotten me? I stepped to the door, peeked through

the little triangle in the frosted window…and saw The Last Supper. 

Everybody was leaning toward Jesus, uhh, Peter Allen. People were gesturing,

several talking at once, some pointing. It looked like frustration. Clearly opinions

were being expressed. I read it as people championing … me. 

Except. Peter Allen sat, silent, wearing a frown, arms crossed, slowly shaking

his head side-to-side. 

It seemed painfully clear. People in that room had liked me. Except for one.

Twenty people wanted to make me a STAR! Peter Allen wanted me gone. 

Finally the lady came out of the room. “That’s all we need.”  And I left.  Jobless.

Later-- a handwritten postcard from Meg Simon. Something like: “thanks for

your audition. Sorry we couldn’t cast you, but we’ll see a lot of you in the future.”

  Never saw the woman again.

Now…as for the 4 Rondo Best Film Nominated titles which I’ve seen…

THE FIRST OMEN -- Pretty good overall. Good settings, good acting, some striking

scenes. But a little too predictable, I think. A couple of the maybe-would-have-been-

effective shock scenes, I saw coming down the tracks way ahead of the arrival.

Leading lady Nell Tiger Free (yeah, I don’t like it either) is especially terrific in an

horrendously difficult, taxing role.

Also maybe too much beholden to THE OMEN’s grotesque, over-the-top death scenes.

The sound level, particularly dialogue, was very low. I turned up the volume and still had some trouble. When people were talking I could barely hear them, then would come a scream or loud bang and I was practically blown out of my chair.

So I added captions to the mix and that helped. One caption did catch my notice. There was some wind noise and the title read “Cold wind sounds.”  Does cold wind really sound different from…you know…wind?

I appreciated that they took care to tie it into the beginning of THE OMEN. They really didn’t have to. How many modern-day viewers know from the original? And how many can recognize Gregory Peck? Or even the name “Gregory Peck.” So I appreciated theireffort.

THE OMEN original is still better. But THE OMEN remake is much worse. So this…is okay.

FURIOSA: A MAD MAX SAGA --  No, it’s not as good as FURY ROAD, but could we really expect it to be? FURY ROAD, in my eyes at least, is a genuine, full-blooded, no-doubt-about-it masterpiece. 

FURIOSA is a very good movie on its own. The action scenes are not surprising. Theyare typically clever, ingenious, scary, and miraculously well-done. Not a surprise at all.The drama between the action is where the movie falls down just a bit. Not terrible by any means, but a little flat.

In the Mad Max universe, I rate ‘em this way…

THE ROAD WARRIOR

FURY ROAD

FURIOSA

MAD MAX

MAD MAX BEYOND THUNDERDOME

That’s the official word.

Finally, I know that’s Chris Hemsworth as the bad guy. I KNOW THAT!  But I’m telling you--that is NOT Chris Hemsworth as the bad guy. Take it from me.

LISA FRANKENSTEIN --  High school girl Lisa Swallows (yes, that’s her name)

manages to unintentionally resurrect a long-buried dude.

I had read not such good things about this. Mainly the complaint was that it wasn’t

funny. Just maybe mildly pleasant. But it’s also funny. There are not a lot of laugh

out loud moments, but there’s a continuing air of good humor and cleverness.

Kathryn Newton is delightful as Lisa and Cole Sprouse manages to be quite 

effective--and funny--in his mostly silent role.

What can I tell you, I liked it.

NOSFERATU --  After I saw this I kept my opinions to myself for a while, trying

to get my thoughts straight. Actually, I was simply trying to make any sense at 

all of my thoughts.

It’s a very good horror movie. Is that enough? No? Well…

Okay then. It’s a very good horror movie which still disappointed me. I was hoping

this third (major) telling of the Dracula story from this particular angle would be as

great, as powerful, as unforgettable, as the first two. And it just wasn’t. A little too 

diffuse for me. And a little too dark (literally).

Captain Jack Sparrow’s little girl was very good, very good indeed in a tough lead

role. And it was interesting to see the story play out primarily from this heroine/

victim’s point-of-view. But I was less impressed by the vampire himself/itself.

I knew and hoped that they wouldn’t just recycle the original Orlock look. Great as

It was, it’s been played-out now, I fear. But I wasn’t really taken with the look they 

gave us. As everyone has noted, this is clearly a vampire who was a Slavic general 

in life. Got the ‘stache and everything. I’d just prefer something a little more 

corpse-like. This guy looked, when we finally got a chance to see him, like ol’ Joe 

Stalin on a bad day.

But his look is…okay. I can live with that. His voice, however, I really deeply 

Disliked. Yes, it’s very deep and growly..but too much so. It sounds like standard 

deep growly villain voice. It was, to me, almost funny. I can imagine a hefty handful

of better choices.

Beyond that, Nicholas Hoult was probably the best “Jonathan Harker” ever. Of 

course, he also had more to do than just about any other. And Willem Dafoe is a 

fine “Van Helsing”. Other cast members were…okay.

So, yeah, it’s a very good horror film, very good indeed. But it’s not a patch on 

either of its two brilliant predecessors.

Here are this years nominees for best film in the Rondo Awards -- to be exact, The 23rd Annual Rondo Hatton Classic Horror Awards.  

This year there are 18 nominees, of which I’ve seen 4. Kinda pitiful. 

I don’t think I’ll try too hard to see them all this time around, but there are maybe 7 which I wanted to catch in the theater and just…you know…didn’t. So I’ll see how I can do on those, maybe throw in a couple of the stragglers. We’ll see. I’m not about to strain anything in the effort.

Those I’ve already seen are italicized and underlined.     

   ALIEN: ROMULUS

— BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE 

— DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE

— DUNE, Part 2

— THE FIRST OMEN

— FURIOSA: A Mad Max Saga

— GODZILLA x KONG: The New Empire

— I SAW THE TV GLOW

— JOKER: FOLIE A DEUX

— LISA FRANKENSTEIN

— LONGLEGS

— MAXXINE

— NOSFERATU

— A QUIET PLACE: DAY ONE

— SALEM’S LOT

— SMILE 2

— THE SUBSTANCE

— TERRIFIER 3

2007:  My agent: “you booked the video game, you record tomorrow.” 

Great!  But, “...what video game?”

“You auditioned for a video game….didn’t you?”  

“I had two or three video game auditions, but a long time ago.”

She said, “this game is called FROZEN.” 

“Huh. Maybe I auditioned for that. But a long time ago.”

She told me where to be and when.

I dug out my daybook and leafed back, trying to find a videogame audition, any videogame audition. Nothing. So I checked the daybook for the previous year (2006) And there it was. My audition for FROZEN had been EXACTLY to- the-DAY one year before I would be recording.

The next day I traveled downtown to Rockstar Games and was greeted by a young woman. I mentioned that I’d auditioned 365 days ago and… “is this normal timing for you guys?” 

She said “oh, no.” She told me that they had had a staff meeting a couple of days earlier to discuss the progress of the game. Somebody asked, “when is the guy recording Kenny Petrovic?”

Everyone was shocked. She asked, “what do you mean? He recorded months ago.”  But the guy said ‘nope.’ So they went over the records and found that the guy (me) had auditioned a year ago, they decided to hire him (me), and… forgot to tell him (me) or schedule him (me) to record.

They hurriedly called my agent and got things moving.

I asked what the game was, since I knew that FROZEN was an alias. She said, “It’s GRAND THEFT AUTO IV.”  I know zilch about video games, but even I recognized that title.

She deposited me in a recording studio where I met the director of the game. He handed me my script. Not really a script, though. Just random lines of Kenny Petrovic. No other characters, no directions. Just bare lines.

What I learned immediately (and what was continually reinforced) was what they DIDN’T want: subtlety. No, no. The director told me over and over, “louder. Louder.”  He was only happy when I was literally yelling into the microphone. If I could find anything suggesting a particular stress or emphasis, I was welcome to try to bring that about, as long as I was yelling.

I was in the booth 2 ½ hours that day, yelling. I’ve always had a strong, resilient voice but by the end of that day, the ol’ cords were fried.

They called me back for further recording three more times over the next weeks. Each visit was shorter than the one before. First, about an hour. Second, about 20 minutes. And finally, really short. On that last occasion I recorded exactly one short line. 

GRAND THEFT AUTO IV was not a biggie in my career. It did bring some interesting sidelights along with it though. For one, I was paid more than I expected. I calculated what I should earn for one full day, one half-day, and two one-hour sessions. When the check arrived it was for about a third more than I’d figured. No complaints.

Also, this job probably impressed my son Jesse more than anything I did. He was sort of a gamer at the time and thought this was pretty cool. One day he called me from his mom’s house and asked if I wanted to see myself in the game. Well, sure. So I toddled over and he showed me Kenny Petrovic in action. I also got to hear myself yelling my brains out. Sorta cool. For thirty seconds, anyway. 

I thanked Jesse and started to leave. He said, “if you want to stick around a couple of minutes while I play the game, I’m about to kill you.”

Nah, that’s okay.

Jesse also insisted that I add the gig to my resume. He was certain that anyone would be fascinated by it. I added it to the bottom of my resume and waited for the avalanche of interest.

That credit was on my resume for the last 7 years I worked. It was handed to dozens, maybe hundreds of people I auditioned for. And in those 7 years, NOT ONE PERSON ever asked about it.

Years back I tried to get on WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE. Had to traipse up to the ABC building somewhere around 65th Street where I was packed into a large room with a couple hundred other hopefuls. We took a written test, sat and waited while they were graded. Then, those with a sufficiently high score were asked to stay to be interviewed by someone from the show.

First time I went I flunked the test. I was mortified. But not defeated.

I went back at least six more times and each time passed through to the interview.

The interviewers, about half a dozen of 'em, sat at a line of tables and talked generalities with us. I'm almost proud to say that I never got past the interview. I mean, let's face it, I can be damn unpleasant in person. (As opposed to my devastatingly charming online persona.)

By the last time I was interviewed, I thought maybe I'd figured out how to fool 'em, figured how to play the game.  Felt pretty optimistic till I got a look at the guy at the next interview table: a retired Navy admiral in full dress regalia. With medals. I said to my interviewer, nodding toward the admiral, "I got a pretty good guess who's gonna be on the show very soon."

She didn't laugh and I failed again. That was the last straw.

Too bad. I coulda used a million bucks.

I just watched the last third or so of IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE. Of course, I’ve seen it, by actual count, 67 million times before. Since my first viewing I’ve been impressed by the movie. Since my second or third viewing, I’ve realized that James Stewart’s performance was really good. Then I realized it was great. Then I realized it was shatteringly brilliant. And today, for the first time, I truly really appreciated, as an actor, what’s going on here.

People, even including show biz types, try to accept a movie on its own terms, as some sort of removed reality. Then if they really stop and think about it, they recognize an actor doing good work, a director in charge, designers getting it right. As concerns the actual nuts-and-bolts of filmmaking, that’s usually the end of it.

As an actor you sometimes go one step further: “Oh, nice line reading…nice subtle reaction there… I love the way he walked out of the room..”  Stuff like that. But usually not much more.

Today, though, watching the last half hour of IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE, something more occurred to me. This is something I could have, maybe should have, thought of long ago. But I didn’t, so leave me be. I’m doing the best I can.

What I’m thinking about starts in the movie with the missing $8000. I know I don’t have to explain that because we’ve all seen the movie. Anyway, that’s when George Bailey’s life really, ultimately goes straight to hell. For the next extended section of the movie, Jimmy Stewart plays anger, fear, desperation, all the bad stuff. And he plays it extremely well. EXTREMELY well.

Then, finally, after Clarence has done his magic, George gets it. The snow starts falling again, his lip starts bleeding again, Zuzu’s petals make their return. And George Bailey is happy. He’s as happy as anyone in human history has ever been. Jimmy Stewart has to play that, and he plays it extremely well. EXTREMELY well.

But what really occurred to me for the first time today was… The scenes with desperate George probably took a week to film, at the least. And every day of that week or more, actor Stewart had to be at the very extremity of anger and fear and desperation over and over again. He probably had to be suicidal for a full day. 

Then, thank God, the misery is past and it’s time to be happy. This is no easier, believe me. Stewart had to be at the opposite extremity now, happier than humans are allowed to be. He had to experience and evince pure joy. For another week. Every day, over and over, he had to smile till his cheeks hurt, laugh and make it real, love all these people who are, really, just other actors.

This sort of acting, in extremis, is difficult on stage eight times a week, really difficult. So difficult, in fact, that it’s often not really achieved. But to do it over and over, day after day, for a week or more, first maximally miserable, then impossibly joyful, that was Mr. Stewart’s assignment. Something almost impossible, I’d think. But there it is. The proof of it is on the screen and it is undeniable. 

And, though it’s really beside the point, it’s still worth remembering that this was the first performance for an actor after years of war. Genuine war, in his case. Actual dangerous, life-threatening, soul-changing war.

Mr. Stewart…Bravo. Brav-the-damn-o.

 

My first memory of American politics is 1956, when, six-years-old, I loved the conventions. It was exciting. Yelling, signs, balloons, people with microphones. I remember a delegate being asked which candidate he was supporting and tossing off a name which the interviewer had never heard before. Somebody said, “I guess he’s a favorite son.” I couldn’t figure what that meant.  My parents had two sons. Was I the “favorite?”

    Having loved the ‘56 conventions, I was primed for 1960. It didn’t disappoint. So many people wanted the Democratic nomination that it felt like a gameshow. And I loved the name of the Republican Vice-Presidential candidate: Henry Cabot Lodge.  I learned that “Cabot” was a  big name in New England, as witness this:

Boston, the home of the bean and the cod,

Where the Lowells speak only to Cabots,

And the Cabots speak only to God.

             We had a mock election in our 5th Grade classroom, I was campaign manager for Richard Nixon. Sorry. And we won! Well… Indiana.

My best friend's dad asked me who my parents were voting for. Even at ten years of age, I knew better than to answer, so I said, “I don’t know.”

He said, “They’d better vote for Nixon. If Kennedy wins, the Pope will be running this country.” Even to a dopey kid, that sounded wacky.

With no school on election day, I worked for my dad. Hey, I was ten years old. A guy’s gotta make a living. At the end of the day, I wanted to get home to watch election returns. But Dad stopped on the way, leaving me in the truck while he talked business with someone. He took forever so the returns started rolling in without me. 

‘64-- not much of interest. I was LBJ, all the way, but I remember that Barry Goldwater, the Republican candidate, while obviously WRONG about everything, still seemed so disturbingly smart.

‘68 was memorable, for all the wrong reasons. I watched as the Chicago police rioted and as Mayor Daley’s face was forever ingrained in my brain as the precise image of corruption.

My dad dropped by in his police car one night during the convention. I sat in the cop car with him and raged about what was happening in Chicago. It was the cops I was particularly angry about, and my dad sat there listening, in his police uniform. All he said was, “mmm…uh huh…” He’d never seen me in this mood. No one had.

‘72, finally of age to vote. As the bumper stickers would soon read: “Don’t blame me, I voted for George.”  McGovern, that is.

‘80--I voted for a third-party candidate. I was a Carter man, but it was obvious that Reagan would take Indiana easily. Well…Indiana.  I read that the third party guy, John Anderson, would only receive federal matching funds if his vote total reached a certain level. So I voted for him, hoping to stave off his bankruptcy.

‘72 again: I accompanied Dad to his voting place. I was told that I should vote there, that I was in their book. No, I said, this is not my voting place. Yes, someone with my name was on their list, but the address was not mine. “That’s not me,” I said  

But a guy--the son of our sitting mayor and also a jerk--was haranguing me to vote, assuming that I would vote for his dad. 

He put his arm around my shoulder, and whispered, “c’mon, what does it matter? And you could vote again at your other place.” And he laughed. So, okay. I voted there where I shouldn’t. I voted for the guy running against his dad. As I left, we exchanged winks at having cheated the system.

And, no, I didn’t vote twice.