Ok, well, It’s been a while. In that time, my show has come close to opening, the opera is in full staging mode, my other shows have closed and I’m really, fully understanding why people hate actors. I don’t hate my actors. I’m not sure I’d take many of them out for drinks, but I don’t hate them. I don’t know what it is about some actors that gives them the egos they have without the stuff to back it up? And this is coming from one of (in the loving words of my dear sweet wife) the most egotistical pains in the ar5e to walk the planet. All right, my wife didn’t really say the pain in the ar5e bit, but I have been called egotistical (in addition to other adjectives) many times in the past. And I may not have the stuff to back it up as well as some other famous pains, but I think even my wife will admit that I have some talent. Other people not related to me to have, at various times, come to my defense in that area. And yet I still cannot understand what it is that enables a person of moderate talent to assume that they have the knowledge or need to meddle with casting and affairs of other actors.
I was in a production of “My Fair Lady” years ago, and the actor playing Prof. Higgins was of this type. Constantly gave the director grief over every move and every bit of blocking. He constantly questioned the motivation (“But why would I move to that chair and sit? I don’t understand the motivation.”) I was good friends and highly respected the director and could see that he was kicking himself for ever casting this wart. One night, during the production, when His Highness was out on stage, we noticed that he had left his script out in the open in the dressing room. On every page he had detailed notes as to why the blocking he was given did not work within the structure of the psychological workings of the play. A real nut job. Ask any actor friends you may have, and I assure you, they will have story after story of this type.
I guess what I don’t understand about this is, what in their past has brought them to the point that they feel that they are more important than the director/producer/cast and that they should somehow be granted some divine dispensation to dictate the particulars of a cast/show/concept/what-have-you. What is it that makes them assume that they somehow know better. It happens in the opera all the time, too. We get some well-meaning but small-minded person who assumes that they are “helping out” by giving others direction, pep talks, etc. I just cannot fathom the ever-lovin’ cheek it takes to assume such a role. It is outrageous and offensive to his fellow actors. Can you tell I’m passionate about this? Do you really think that any professional actor, who has attained any degree of prominence, has gotten where they are by treating collegues in this way? You are hired for a job, and you either do the job you’re hired for or you get lost.
Ooooohmmmmm! Ooooohmmmmm! Ohwah… Tagoo… Siam… <*zen state*> Ah, much better. On the foodie front, I have great news! I have lost weight!!! My last weigh in was at 424, down from 440. That’s 16 lbs, people! Let’s celebrate! Cheesecake for everyone!! (just kidding!;-0) But I’m excited. This is so cool. And you’d never know it to look at me. Of course, that is an Elizabeth-Taylor-sized buffet meal from being a distant memory, but luckily I don’t do those kind of things anymore. Yes, yes, I know. You all used to like to take me to McDonald’s to watch me eat and see the numbers change. You giggled when you asked me what I wanted on my hamburger and I said a hot dog. You used to chortle with delight when you see me standing in front of a microwave yelling, “HURRY!” Well, all those days are but a misty, water-colored memory of the way I was. You’d be so proud of me if you saw me today. Eating healthy (er) and being mindful of the portion and calorie count. I’m reminded of a song by Allan Sherman, the title of which I used in an earlier post (sung to the tune of “Little Butercup” from H.M.S. Pinafore):
I'm called little Butterball,dear little Butterball.
Though I could never tell why.
My calories mount, my cholesterol count
Is as high as an elephant's eye.
They told me to diet, I promised I try it,
But somehow my weight would not budge.
Each Metrecal cookie to me tasted ookie,
So I covered it with hot fudge.
I ate watercresses and other such messes,
And pushed all my favorites aside.
I said to the caterers, no more mashed potaterers,
Just baked, then hashbrowned, then french fried.
I sing this sad song, for my diet went wrong,
Though I honestly tried to pay heed.
I don't know how high is an elephant's eye,
But an elephant's rear I don't need.
My thoughts exactly!
Quote of the day:
“High-tech tomatoes. Mysterious milk. Supersquash. Are we supposed to eat this stuff? Or is it going to eat us? ~Annita Manning”
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