Deer In the Headlights

I was in a production of Golden Boy in Chicago. The show, sadly, did not find an audience. We played to nearly empty houses. And it was a long run, too … It was kind of dreadful, and heartbreaking – because we had worked so hard, and we believed in the show. (This was the production where we sent a letter to William Hurt – asking him to come see it. We had read that Hurt was looking for a theatre company to get involved with – so we contacted him. And he actually came! The night Hurt showed up, with a friend, they were the ONLY TWO PEOPLE IN THE AUDIENCE. Of course we couldn’t cancel because … he had flown in from LA to see it. So we did the ENTIRE 3 act play for William Hurt alone. It was the strangest most moving experience in the world. It was so WEIRD. When we came out for our curtain call … well. Obviously, bowing to the sound of two people clapping is a highly terrible experience – but it’s even more weird, when one of those people is William Hurt. We bowed, looking out at him, and he sat there, clapping, with tears streaming down his face. Mind-blowing night.)

So anyway – back to my story.

Our director continued to give extensive notes following each show. As the run dragged on, we (the actors) started rebelling a bit against this. Like: dude, we just played to 5 people … you’re gonna give us notes???

“Notes” became a rather slap-happy interlude. We all sat around in the empty theatre, listening to our director, sort of … but all with ants in our pants. Like: get me the feck OUT of here! It’s a weird feeling when you’re in a bomb. A bomb that you don’t think deserves to be a bomb. It’s very depressing.

Anyway, one of the cast members was this guy I will remember forever. He played Eddie Fuseli, the gay gangster who basically buys Joe Bonaparte’s soul in the play. This actor was good-looking, talented, kind of a prick, but also – when he wanted to be – so FUNNY. He had a way of cutting through the bullshit of the moment and just speaking the truth.

So in one particular note-taking session, our director focused on this actor. Started giving him notes about his entrance. Now remember: we had been up and running with the show for a couple of weeks now. The show IS what it IS … why with all the notes? Tweaking this or that aspect of a performance is NOT going to suddenly bring in an audience! (I want to make clear, though, that I loved this director. He was not an idiot. He probably had a hard time letting go of the show. It happens a lot.)

ANYWAY.

We’re all sitting in the echoey empty theatre. There is a very depressed vibe among the group. It is demoralizing to pour your heart out for NO AUDIENCE. It sucks.

So this actor was listening to the notes being given to him about his entrance. I could just TELL, from the kind of calm empty look on his face, that he thought this entire thing was ridiculous. He didn’t say anything, he listened, but he sure as shit didn’t write any of the notes down. He felt, as the rest of us did, that we needed to just accept that the show was up, running, and we needed to stop worrying about it, and just play the damn thing and get it over with.

Director goes on and on about his entrance: “I think it’s important that when you first appear you blah blah blah … so make that entrance more blah blah blah … I mean, we’ve talked about this … You need to show that Fuseli is blah blah blah …”

Finally, this actor interrupts the speech, and says, “I know, I know. I know what I’m supposed to do, but what can I say – I panicked. I had all 8 eyes on me and I just FROZE like a deer in the headlights.”

Everyone erupted into laughter and that ended the note-taking session. For that night, anyway.