Who said you could act?

Did you just roll out of bed one morning and think, "I'm going to be an actor!"

That is so cool.

You've seen so many movies, you don't need to learn anything. You're a natural. Acting is easy. It's getting the job that's hard. Right?

You bet! But you've got looks, you've got moxie. And you were cast as the lead in your high school production of "Guys and Dolls." You know how to memorize lines. That's really what acting is all about! Know your lines and the rest will follow.

Happy auditioning!

Frank Converse is a douche-bag

Okay. So I do have a small score to settle...

When Yours Truly was a wee pre-adolescent, I snagged a speaking role on a 70s television show starring Frank Converse and Claude Aikins. I worked with both of them for one day. Claude Akins, I remembered, was a featured player in "Planet of the Apes." My mother knew Frank Converse's work on early television, but I had never heard of him. On the day of shooting, I remember he took me aside and talked with me about the life of the actor. I had just screwed up a take. I didn't hit my mark because I was paralyzed with fear as a herd of cows stampeded towards me. All I remember were assistant directors waving red bandanas, knee deep in cow manure, luring them away from running me down, and the director screaming at me.

So Frank Converse and I had our moment of bonding. I will never forget how he told me not to feel bad. It was a difficult shot, but now that I had made the mistake, I wouldn't make it again.

He had that right. The next take was flawless.

Fast forward 12 years. Yours Truly, Tobias Lovecraft, is working at a small restaurant on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. One day, while I was working the lunch shift, Frank Converse came in for a cup of coffee and a Lemon Linzer Torte. Stunned, I served him without comment. He came in the next day. And the next. I suspected that he was working on a soap opera, but I never bothered to investigate further. It was before the internet, otherwise I would have Googled his ass. Anyway, after the fifth day, I decided to introduce myself.

"Um, you're Frank Converse, right?" I asked.

Without looking up from his Lemon Linzer Torte he replied, "Yeah."

"Well, do you remember when you were doing ****** and there was an episode with a herd of cows and a farmboy?" I continued, my voice breaking with excitement. Frank and I were pals, weren't we?

Still not looking up, Frank replied, "Yeah."

"Well, I was the farm boy." I said it triumphantly, while watching his reaction. He didn't flinch. He just poked at his Linzer Torte.

He picked up the last piece of Lemon Linzer Torte with his fork and studied it. "I remember the cows," Frank said, "but I don't remember you." He said the last moment looking me directly in the eyes, holding the fork in his mouth like he was thinking about stabbing me with it.

I walked away, bitch-slapped and annoyed. "That's okay, Frank," I thought, "In a few years no one will remember you, either."

Unfortunately, I still remember him. What a douche-bag!

A Simple Reality Test

The next time you go to the theater, ask yourself this question:

Am I watching people live in a place and a time or am I watching actors moving around a stage reciting lines?

The theater should be an almost excruciating intimate experience. The audience should become completely engaged in the the excitement of observing without being observed. We are flies on the wall of an unfolding human drama.

As William Hazlitt wrote:

The theater is but a representation of life with the boring parts cut out.

The theater has the potential to provide the one entertainment experience that the public cannot otherwise get: To bear witness to real human conflict as imagined by the playwright, at the moment of its happening.

So ask yourself this question:

Why am I watching a false representation of life when I a true representation of life is so much more interesting?

I hate Marian Seldes.

There. I said it. Out loud. In public.

I hate Marian Seldes.

I don't mean I hate her personally. I hate her acting. She is mannered. Her work is unimaginative. She's funny looking, with feet like a stork. She's unpleasant to watch, her performances are so smug and condescending, and well, mannered and self-important.

Why do I care?

Because everyone LOVES Marian Seldes. Just the mere mention of her name draws hushed reverence as people bow their heads while whispering "I LOVE Marian Seldes" like a "Hail Mary." It is simply remarkable to see. And it's never based on a particular performance. It's based on her legend, the lore that has developed around her. The aura of the stage celebrity is fundamentally different from the film celebrity in one peculiar respect: the stage celebrity doesn't necessarily depend on the financial success of their work as much as the glowing reviews which keep them working from one show to the next. And these glowing reviews, over the fullness of time and depending on how well they are cultivated by the stage actor, have a cumulative effect of bestowing a perpetual shield against negative criticism. They become Living National Treasures, their future is secure, pensioned by loving public approval.

And so, Marian Seldes, the grandest dame of the theater today, has risen to the highest level of professional accomplishment, and yet she is simply a hack.

And it's not really her fault. She's doing what she was taught, or what she believed she was taught. Yes, Marian has a certain charm and magnetism which people seem to find irresistible. The trouble is charm and magnetism are the raw materials which give actors a natural advantage, but it never should be confused for talent or skill. Marian poses and recites her lines like a pretentious society matron in a community theater production of "Our Town". There is no inner life in her work. Just the gaudy veil of self-conscious conceit. Watching Marian Seldes perform is like having someone wink at you at every moment. You don't watch a person living in a place at a time, you watch a "Great Actress" in a "Great Performance" crafted with hoary clichés. She's a ham bone. There isn't one real moment in her work.

Then what makes me right and everyone else so wrong? What gives me the credibility to point out that the Emperor has no clothes? She must be a great actress if she's so highly revered. Right?

Wrong.

To be continued...

Actors Suck!

Imagine this...



You have just purchased tickets to hear the hottest concert pianist on the world scene today. You just can't miss it. All the newspaper reviews are going crazy about him. And so, wearing your best tuxedo, you arrive looking forward to hearing the acclaimed Genius play a live concert.



The lights dim. We break out in applause as the Genius, with the muscular confidence of prodigal youth, strolls to the black gleaming concert grand Steinway, seating himself, poised to play. We are riveted in anticipation and vague sexual arousal. He looks like Josh Hartnett! No one would be listening with their eyes closed tonight.



The program is Beethoven's Emperor's Concerto, a real crowd-pleasing chestnut from the Romantic repetoire. It promises to be an exciting evening.



The symphony begins to play. The Genius prepares to attack the first note. His moment arrives. He starts to play. Wait a minute. What the fuck are you hearing? Is he really playing... no, you think, this has to be a joke! The Genius, swaddled in the luxurious patina of privileged manhood, is playing... CHOPSTICKS????



No. Not only "Chopsticks", but he also pounds notes with the reckless zeal of a two-year-old on his Charlie Brown piano. It is god-awful. You look around. Surely everyone else gets the joke? But no! The audience sits in rapt attention, following each crashing chord with swooning gestures of the hands and head.



Finally, the cacophony ceases. The Genius stands to take his bow and the audience leaps to its feet in a loud, cheering ovation. Two, three, four, five bows; three acknowledgments of the symphony, and the audience roars on with approval.



You sit there in a state of shock and uncertainty. You refuse to succumb to the tyranny of the standing ovation that compels many to their feet. Are you crazy? Are they crazy? Who is crazy? You know what you heard. You know what you saw. The Genius did not know how to play the piano at all. The Genius did not even know where middle C was located. And he's a sensation? Because he looks like Josh Hartnett? That's the sum total of his musical talent? Has the world gone mad?



As silly as the above scenario sounds, it is what I go through every time I go to see theater. I sit there, simply stunned at the level of incompetence at the highest professional level of production.

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