Opening Weekend

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Bubblegum and paper clips. This was the essence of my theater career up to this point. We didn't discuss things like "budget" because there was no budget. We actors made up the talent, stage crew, make-up, art direction, made sets, created costumes, even ushered our own audiences. Thing of it was, we all wanted to be there. Sure, we did shows that opened and closed on the same night, but we got to do a play. We got to act and feed an audience. Damn the fancy theaters and celebrity-inflated paycheck. We learned that drama, like religion, can happen anywhere to anyone at any time so long as one, or a whole cast and crew of people, had the will to make it happen. Hence the bubblegum and paperclips, 'cause that's what we used sometimes to keep the flats of the set together. Anything, so long as the story gets told.

I lost sight of that when I declared myself a professional actor because I felt, at that point, that my ability and experience demanded monetary compensation. Increased pressure from family and my girlfriend, a hundred failed auditions, and several auto-related incidents later, I couldn't do it anymore. I lost the love of performing because I didn't do it for fun, I did it for money. And all my money was spent before I earned it. That's why I stopped auditioning and spent my life searching out a career instead. And we know how that turned out.

We opened Bars this past weekend. Friday was our First Night, but Sunday afternoon was our Opening Night gala. First two shows we had no audience larger than 40, a tad intimate for a theater that can hold 150 or so, but they were lively and involved. Village Players Theater is undergoing a bit of a Renaissance under its new regime of artistic leadership. The lobby has been repainted and a new original show, our show, was slated to be the beginning of a new future. The set looks good, a visual collage of the different zeitgeists in which our stories take place under the roof of one rustic bar, a grand piano its centerpiece, and terraces in back to hold the band. Backstage is pretty meh, not much better than a Waiting-for-Guffman scenario, but you're also talking to a guy who's changed and performed in a Tulsa synagogue hallway, so it's halfway to heaven to me. Reminds me of the high school shows they never chose me to do. The theater really added some special touches to make us appreciated. First Night had champagne and chocolates waiting for us in our dressing rooms. French champagne. Two different kinds of French champagne. Three bottles, one of them cartoonishly large. Made a Magnum bottle look impotent. You looked like a Dionysian wine orgy steward pouring that bottle with both hands, which was the only way you could pour it. Opening Night brought out the bigwigs of Oak Park, a catered meal, and an ice scuplture. The piece de resistance: An ice sculpture of a bar from which they served more champagne and wine. Frickin' ice sculpture! And real Grapes-from-the-Champagne-region-of-France champagne, not that California sparkling wine sham-pagne! And we got two more weekends of this! And a paycheck to boot!

Needless to say, this is, to date, the most professional show I've ever done. Not quite as thrilling as perfoming on the Second City mainstage, but it swells me with pride.

Tickets still available
Runs through September 30