#SOBLESSED: the Annoying Actor Friend's Guide to Werking in Show Business (9 page)

Can't wait until Tangled and Glee comes to
Broadway
so I can make my
broadway
debut
already

*

Congratulations! You booked your first Broadway show!
You’ve worked and #werked, and you’re finally #livingthedream. You’re about to
become a full-fledged proud member of the Broadway Community. That means multiple
morning TV show press tours, BC/EFA events, Tonys, free cookies from Schmackary’s,
and only six months before you’re completely over all of it. I can’t tell you
how personally proud I am of you, and I would be so #grateful if you devoted a
few words in your Playbill bio to thanking me. You get like fifty now. You’re
in the big time!

 You’ve dreamt of it all your life, but you
never truly know what your Broadway debut will be like until you’re face to
face with it. Many different variables will affect the overall quality of your
debut. The Cast. The Creatives. The Content. The Critics. These are all determining
factors in whether or not you will enjoy going to work every day. This is the
first time you’ll be performing in an open-ended show in the city where you
live. You’re not living in a bubble this time. You get to do-kick, get-check,
and then go home to real life. This is the closest you’ll ever get to a normal
9-to-5 job, so your quest to stay #blessed is all the more important now. After
all that hard work, it would suck if you ended up in a “what now?” situation.
You want to love your job – and to love your job, you need to love the
people you work with.

COMPANY DYNAMICS

The dynamics within your cast were set in motion
before you even auditioned. It began with the contract, content, and creative
team. The contract sets the stakes before the first Equity Meeting. A touring
contract, for example, dictates that the company will be living in a bubble for
the duration of the job. The bubble-effect places a subconscious objective
within each company member’s mind before the first rehearsal. There is a need
to connect to each other quickly and positively, because the next several
months will be spent in close quarters together, where they will be living,
eating, shitting, and sometimes shitting where they’re eating. This means a
touring cast will immediately strive to be the poster children for best-friends-forever-and-ever-until-life-ends-and-we-die-so-let’s-go-to-a-strip-club-after-the-show-in-this-strange-town-because-I’m-totally-OK-with-that.
This behavior is indicative of a long run on the road, which we’ve already
covered. A long run on Broadway is somewhat different.

The long run on Broadway is not guaranteed, but is
always the goal. A lot of really exciting things come with your debut, but some
of those experiences can be watered down if the majority of your cast is just
too cool for school. Like, if your cast is generally annoyed by having to
perform on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, then I’m really sorry because
your cast blows. The
negatives
cannot offset the
positives
. If
the
positives
balance out the
negatives
, you’ll be fine. But if
your
positives
outweigh the
negatives
too much, you could end up
being led blindly into a “drinking the kool-aid” situation – which will
be covered later.

Are You a Good Debut, or a Bad Debut?

Let’s consider that you’re making your Broadway debut
in a new show. The Production Contract is a
positive
, so your cast
should already be in a good emotional place walking in the door. However, this
job is in town, so there might not be an immediate necessity to connect with
each other. In theory, you could all hate one another, and it wouldn’t be a
huge loss because you already have friends. The social success of your debut
will hinge on the ratio of debuts within your cast balanced with the
circumstances in which the rest of your cast made their debut. The cast member
who made their debut in a show that flopped is probably going to be slightly
more grounded than the cast member who debuted in a hit. The flop leaves scars
that encourage idealistic behavior. The hit sets a high benchmark that breeds
jadedness. The most eager veteran in your cast is going the one who made their
debut as a replacement in a long running show where nobody could give two fucks
– so they’re super excited to be doing something fresh. Unless they
debuted in
Wicked
. If that is the case, find out how long they were at the
Gershwin Theatre, because I think the bitterness-by-association seeps in after
three months. If they debuted in
Chicago
, and are under thirty, they’ll
probably approach your show with the giddiness of a teenager. If they debuted
in
Chicago
, and are over thirty, forget it.

Broadway Bonding

One of Stephen Sondheim’s ground rules of songwriting
is, “Content dictates form.” This principle can also be applied to cast morale.
If the content being developed does not initially bond a company, the
connection between cast members will suffer, or at least take longer to mature.
We’re living in an era when it’s easier to spend a five-minute break on our
phones than by actually talking to someone. I’ll bet you’re reading this on
your phone right now. #thankyoufive. Cast members bond when they are thrust
into situations where they are forced to connect. If you’re in a production
where your job is to get thrown through the air and caught by a guy you met
three hours ago, you can bet you’re going to learn a lot more about that person
in a shorter amount of time, than if you only share a few tricky traffic
patterns together. If the content does not dictate situations where the cast
needs to form bonds in order for survival, then you’re going to end up with a
lot of phone chargers around the rehearsal studio.

If content is not bonding your cast, it is up to a
common enemy to bring everyone together. If your director is a douche, then
eventually your entire company will come together over that common enemy. The
same goes for content. If the production sucks, and everybody knows it, chances
are good that everyone will relate to each other over their mutual
frustrations. It’s perhaps the only positive thing that can come from a shitty
situation such as your show sucking. Now, what do you do if your show is
terrible and you’re the only one who knows it?

Drinking the Kool-Aid

The phrase “drinking the kool-aid” found its way into
pop-culture after the horrible massacre in Jonestown. It’s now used within the
acting community when a company is performing in a theatrical massacre that
they are convinced is good. Drinking the kool-aid is dangerous and easy to get
peer pressured into indulging in. I get it. You want to fit in with your cast,
and sometimes that means siding with their enthusiasm, even if it conflicts
with your own opinions. It will happen. You will one day be involved in a
project that seduces you with its clunky book, plodding direction, remedial
lyrics, and Dolly Dinkle choreography. You’ll succumb to drinking the kool-aid
because it’s a long run and the only way to save your sanity while the monkeys
running the show rearrange deckchairs on the Titanic. Drink up. Better to be
positive for the inevitable short run, than to drown in negativity. Just make
sure that under the façade, you know your show is a stinker. Pride yourself in
your awareness, but suppress that shit around your cast – like a gay
Mormon kid does
before
he moves to New York.

When it comes to outside the job, one must never
admit to having drunk the kool-aid. Drinking the kool-aid may not be literal
suicide, but it sure as hell is social suicide. That’s why when discussing your
show with friends, it’s perfectly natural and recommended to let your true self
come flaming out – like a gay Mormon kid does
after
he moves to
New York. If you’re in mixed company, and you don’t want to offend your cast-mates,
or be perceived as foolish to your friends, I suggest using the following key
phrase when discussing your show, “Oh, you know… It’s cute. It’s not going to
change the world. But it’s fun!” That’s the best way to box-step right out of
an awkward situation. Remember: Never stressed. Always blessed. #lietoyourself.

If it’s your Broadway debut, you are contractually
obligated to drink the kool-aid. It doesn’t matter how good or how bad your
show actually is. Nobody in your company is going to judge you for being
excited in your Broadway debut. What people
do
care about is the rookie
who does
not
drink the kool-aid because he or she is too busy partaking
in trendy cynicism. No matter what the cool kids are doing, it’s never cool to
be jaded your first time out the gate. Save that for your next rodeo! Your
career is a marathon not a sprint. If it’s not your debut, feel free to enjoy
putting down your show in equal company – but never complain about your
job to your unemployed friends. Bottom line – know your audience.

I DON’T READ REVIEWS

The subject of whether or not an actor should read
reviews has been debated since Shakespearean times. I have no hard facts to
back that up, but considering
The Merry Wives of Windsor
was like the
first spin-off ever, I doubt the Bard picked up any reviews that may have come
hot off the printing press, as his play could have been received like the
Joey
to
Henry IV
’s
Friends
(again, no facts to back this up). It
wouldn’t have mattered anyway. If post-show critical pans even existed, they
would have been redundant. When Shakespeare’s audience thought your show
sucked, they fucking let you KNOW IT. The groundlings paid a penny for
admission and if you didn’t deliver, you got a mutton chop in the face. Today,
audiences are civilized to at least wait until intermission to throw the proverbial
mutton chop at your cyber-face in 140 characters or less.

There are a lot of well-adjusted actors out there who
genuinely avoid as much as they can about what is written about them online.
However, if that well-adjusted actor is an understudy who gets to go on, you
can throw all that shit out the window because you know they’re searching their
name on Twitter during curtain call. There is a difference between “reviews”
and “crap online.” People who are paid to critique your show write reviews. They
are professionals, and whether you agree with them or not, they’re performing a
paid job. People who really hate you write crap online. They hide behind their
computer, and sanctimoniously sound off angry opinions in a pathetic quest to
garner attention. I mean, who does that? LOL. Only losers! [Visit
annoyingactorfriend.com for an archive of over twenty critical blogs about season
two of
Smash
.]

There are also people out there who will write great
things about you online. There are many smart theatre lovers who simply enjoy
sharing their love of the art with people like them. There can be value in
that. However, if I show you thirteen educated tweets and message board posts about
how you #nailedit in a performance, and one tweet calling you #fattypantssingsflat
– who wins? #fattypantssingsflat wins. Every single time. Avoid the troll
altogether and fill your voyeuristic needs by reading shit people say about
your friends’ shows.

The Other Boards

If you do find yourself lost in the wilderness of
online discussion, you’ll need some advice to take with you along your journey
into the woods – of crazy. There are three major outlets to peruse the
plethora of show business bitching, moaning, and occasional complementing: All
That Chat, BroadwayWorld, and Twitter.

I consider All That Chat to be the oldest theatre
related message board because it mainly consists of people who were around
before theatre even began. Located at www.talkinbroadway.com, All That Chat
boasts a bevy of personalities that have seen every production, of every play
or musical – EVER. And they saw it when it was done better. All That Chat
is what happens when you give a time capsule access to the Internet. I’m sure
there are frequent posters of all ages and genders, but I like to read every
single comment written on All That Chat in the voice of a sixty-three year-old
gay man sitting alone in his apartment surrounded by an uncomfortable amount of
plants and a wall of cast albums – on vinyl.

All That Chat is ultra conservative about what is
posted on their board. They moderate that shit like the government. Being a
member of All That Chat is a privilege, not a right. One time, I actively tried
to make a profile so I could rave about my remarkable understudying
capabilities, but the process to sign up was more cutthroat than anything I’d ever
experienced as an actor. Once you sign up, you have to go through a waiting
period where they decide if they will approve you. I’m not kidding. There is
actually a callback process. It’s essentially a background check, and I think
after that there’s a blood test. Worst of all, access to All That Chat is not
immediate. You have to wait like a day,
or more
. You can literally “catfish”
an unsuspecting Florida chick on Facebook faster than you can get approved to
discuss Broadway on All That Chat. That’s right, folks. It’s easier to
anonymously ruin a human being’s life than it is to talk about Carol Channing.

If All That Chat is the elderly, ultra-conservative
audience member sipping cognac out of a snifter and complaining about how much
better things used to be, then BroadwayWorld is the teenage, uber-liberal
audience member hopped up on molly and gummy bears, complaining about how much
better things used to be. Again, I’m sure BroadwayWorld members come in all shapes
and sizes, but whenever I read a post on that website, it’s in the voice of a thirteen-year
old fanboy wearing an
American Idiot
t-shirt, who is dead-set on his
convictions because he’s friends with someone in the show, and by “friends with
someone in the show,” I mean, he saw the show forty-seven times.