Like David Hasselhoff in Germany

I'm HUGE in Czechoslovakia!

Heh.

I have no idea what it says either. But that's my name on the 12th line. Kinda.

The Press

Ok, so I try really hard not to be a diva (despite what Katy might say....)

But damn. These reviews are fucking awesome.

So....actors don't read their own press?

I'll call bullshit on that.

I know I read them. And everyone I know does too.

So....in case you're interested:

This one is damn good:

Oregonian

I particularly like this part:

The starting point of both the humor and the pathos is in the eyes of Brian Allard, whose expressions of befuddlement, sheepishness, concern and exasperation make Peter -- a "tired man-sponge" who accommodates the lost souls around him at the cost of his own way -- into a highly sympathetic slacker Everyman.

Also good:

Willy Week

Followspot

I love this show. And the press seems to love it too.

If you live nearby, please, see it. If you don't, try to get here. It's....something else

Hold on Loosely

There is a legend about Sir Laurence Olivier. Not the one with Dustin Hoffman. A different one.

He was playing Richard III, and gave a masterful performance. Everyone was amazed. He had to do 10 curtain calls. Everyone thronged around his dressing room after the show, only to hear him inside, throwing chairs around, screaming, crying and generally trashing the place.

When he finally opened the door, red-faced, a shocked crowd stood there. One brave soul spoke up. "But Larry, you were brilliant! It was the best performance you've ever given. Why on earth are you so upset?"

Olivier turned on him and said, simply "Because I have no idea why!"

--------------------

I finally did it last night. I finally made this role come alive exactly the I wanted it to, exactly the way it should be. I felt it in my bones. My director was extatic and talked of drammies. My stage manager hugged me and told me it was amazing. It was everything it could be. Everything it needs to be.

I have no idea how I did it. And that terrifies me.

OK, of course I know where it came from. Stepan (Schtep-ohn), my director, had a breakthrough the night before when a friend of his visited our rehearsal and they had a long chat. He sent me pages of notes the next day. I liked some of them, didn't like others, but the main point came down to this - we were playing Peter too jaded. He needed to be more freaked out by the shit going on around him. Like, way more freaked out. So that's what I played. And it worked.

At intermission Stepan told me that Peter was now the center the play as it should be. After the show he hugged me and told me I was there. Today in the parking lot, he told me he'd been thinking about it, and he realized he had never before worked with an actor who could take direction, think on it, and execute it as quickly as I had. That meant an awful lot.

And I know HOW I did it, really, but it's a delicate balance. I'm scared of going over the top - if Peter is THAT freaked out, then I could play it TOO big, and "over-acting" has always been my number one fear as an actor, ever since 10th grade when I upstaged an entire show in my naivete and my director, who I idolized, was so, so disappointed in me.

Acting is such a delicate balance, and because of that, we tend to try to go the safe road. And that's really where the danger lies - because if you codify your performance, if you plan each step, each emotion, each thought, then you aren't living it, and true performances ONLY happen when you live it. But- to step on that stage with no guarantee, no plan other than to just live it.... that's scary. Because what happened on Tuesday (in front of the director, SM, sound designer, costume designer and board op ONLY) could happen. OR it might just be nothing. Normal. Boring. And if I'm in my head.... So I need to not be in my head. I need to recreate Tuesday as much as possible. But I can't plan that. It just has to happen.

And I have to trust it will. Thank god this cast is so awesome and loving to me. Great performances....you can only create the most favorable conditions and hope the magic happens. You can't force it. It's like sleep. Or hitting a baseball. Or love.

Hold on loosely, but don't let go. If you cling to tightly, you're gonna lose control.

But if I did it once, I can it again.

But beyond that....this show requires me to leave pretty much everything on the stage. That's not easy when you have 100 people out there judging you. But it is what it is. And if I go too far, I go too far. Better that than not trying.

Home for the Holidays

So this is the New Year.

And I don't feel any different.

But that's ok.

This trip home at the holidays had a different feel. Single once again, I was master of my own schedule. And it ended up feeling like I'd found a time travel machine.

Family obligations out of the way for the time being, I spent the mid-week exploring my past. Or so it seemed. Wednesday night I had dinner and a chat with my ex-girlfriend from way back, just post college. We're both so much more grown up now. She has a real job and a long-term boyfriend. She still writes on the side, but to some extent has become "normal." And it suits her. She seemed healthier and happier than she ever has in the times we've dropped into each others lives in the past 10 years. And perhaps even moreso than when we were together. And I felt so happy for her.

Thursday day was spent with Matt, my best friend since 10th grade, a man who knows me better and differently than anyone ever will. Pulling into the driveway at his parent's house, I was a lonely teenager again, hanging out with my friend, looking for the acceptance and connection that seemed so elusive. Until I got to the door and the present snapped back in focus. His brother was no longer a pipsqueak middle schooler, but an articulate, polite doctoral student. He stood and chatted with me, though I knew he'd rather get back to watching the film on TV. 17 years ago he would have. Matt came upstairs and the year since I had seen him no longer existed, except in stories that desperately needed to be shared. The afternoon was a joy.

Thursday night I spent with another old friend, one who I hadn't seen in years, one who has changed and changed again, and who it was lovely to see has grown into a clever, fun and sexy young woman. We chatted for hours and took care of some seriously unfinished business. I was left that night with the feeling that something long neglected had been completed. And then I drove by the I-35W bridge collapse. Juxtaposition is occasionally insane.

Friday night was a party where I reconnected with masses of old college friends. It was unexpected, but wow. The more people change, the more they stay the same. Some have less hair, or babies, or producing careers, but basically, they're the same shmos I went to college with. And the fact will never change that I need to find a woman like Mel, that isn't Mel. And that I should write her more.

I got to close another open door that night - I had a chance to apologize to someone I should have apologized to years ago. And as she's now dating one of my best friends, it was long overdue.

Saturday was family Christmas, delayed because it was my inlaws year to have my brother and sister-in-law on the real holday. It was the same as it ever is, which is in no way a bad thing. There is a reason I look forward to "Christmas Morning." And next year we get the baby on his first Christmas. So there's that, right? Uncle Brian. Oh my.

And then the weekend. My heart lives in that weekend. Because I spent it, mostly, with Barb and Matt, the two people who I hold closest to me. One of the saddest parts of my life is that I so rarely see these two singular people.

There is something very powerful about knowing that if the universe altered one or two factors, your life would be oh so different. Because if I could somehow travel at incredible speeds, and spend time on a daily basis with these two, my life would be so enriched and so more grounded. Spending my New Year's Eve / Day with them was.... everything.

Barb's night-before-New-Year's party was a blast as ever, as it has been the past three years, and is the reason my trips home for Christmas will ALWAYS extend to the New Year if at all possible. And spending the next day with her, just sharing that time - was one of the best days of my year. It doesn't matter so much WHAT we did, just that we did it together.

And then New Year's night. Drinking a beer in Minneapolis, sitting on a barstool next to my best friend of 17 years - a man I have known longer than I lived before I knew him. A man with whom I have shared the indecencies of high school, the maturation of college, the wonders of being an artist in New York. The man who flew across the country to stand next to me at my wedding, and later flew across the country to get me drunk for the first time after my divorce. The best friend we all wish we had growing up. We sat there, chatting quietly, and toasted as the ball dropped (on time delay) as 2008 began.

It was nothing special. Which made it the most special thing of all. If 2008 can live up to the promise of the last day of 2007, it will be a very special day indeed.

And then I flew home. Departing my parent's house, after hugging my mom goodbye and being dropped at the airport (at 5 AM!) by my dad, I had spent the last 24 hours with the four most important people I know outside of Portland.

And after a long day of travel (no sleep, four hours on a plane to Seattle, four hours on a train back to Portland) I fell into the loving embrace of those who are my life here. Lindsay met me at the station, conveyed me home, and then to dinner with Emily and David. They are my life here, and no less important than my past, or my home. They are my present.

I felt loved as I left, and loved again as I arrived.

Truly, I am blessed with an embarrassment of riches.