Caveat Actor

Tony and Nick have both been talking about the omerta that exists here and elsewhere in the performing arts: unless it’s in a controlled environment, speak no evil about your fellow practitioners. No matter how screwed you were by not getting reimbursed for production expenses, no matter how uncomfortable that other actor made you feel, no matter how much of a complete clusterfuck a process was, save it for your friends at the bar. Caveat designer, caveat actor, goes the convention. It’s all part of paying your dues.

On one hand, I don’t think this is necessarily particular to theatre. In my relatively workaday office job, somewhat exploitative and degrading things are visited upon myself and my co-workers all the time, and we rarely speak up for the same reasons theatre folk don’t: fear of retribution, not wanting to rock the boat, resignation to the paradigm that there is this Ladder, see, and Respect and Professional Courtesy are only hanging on Rungs 35 and up.

However, it might be a little worse in theatre – the always-in-the-offing fear of Not Working that Scott Walters rails against certainly can turn genial, collaborative and energetic artists into Richard III’s or at least Lears. And, of course, theatre is personality driven and those personalities are big. The same magnificent lens that refracts and refines human experience into compelling stories and enduring characters can magnify petty jealousies into full blown Drah-Mah. And, it should not be overlooked, many of the Persons of Authority we’re afraid of offending when we point out fault are theatre lifers. Let’s face it: theatre lifers are a little insane. Either they were crazy to begin with or the ridiculousness of this life made them crazy – I’m not sure. I suppose I will find out eventually myself. But in any case, as in any closed system, close quarters and cross-pollination means even little misunderstandings have a chance to snowball and become He Said, She Said feuds, and any thing so overblown is from the purpose of playing.

“Apparently, artists are easily replaceable,” Tony says. Yup. We are, especially in this saturated market. I like to think that my work as an actor is unique and singularly compelling, that I am a perfect snowflake deserving of praise and endless meaningful employment. To directors and casting folks I am another 20something of medium height and build with a receding hairline. I’m already in the meaty part of the bell curve: the last thing I need is casting table whispers about an “attitude problem” or being “challenging to work with” sliding me down the left side of the graph into Pariahville.

But while artists not getting checks they were promised is plainly indefensible, I think the No Whistleblowers custom is merely the worst symptom of a larger culture that fears giving or receiving criticism of all sorts. Avoiding unnecessary provocation was a primary reason (after scheduling) I decided to drop reviewing for TimeOut Chicago. It’s a sort of glass ceiling or – perhaps more appropriately – a Fourth Wall: you’re either on stage or you’re in the audience. You can either work in the theatre, or you can talk and write about it, and never the twain shall meet.*

(The only people who seem to get away with it, sort of ironically, are the theatre lifers: they who have built up enough credit to say whatever they want about whoever they want to whoever they want. And maybe there’s a certain benefit to that: after all, we theatre folks didn’t get the reputation for being emotional, sometimes petty and occasionally catty by chance. I consider myself a reasonably mature person and I have to admit I have a hard time telling when my frustration with a rehearsal process, a director, or another actor, is righteous indignation borne of my love of quality theatre or because I’m not getting enough sleep and drinking too much. Surely experience and mellowing not only buy you a shielded pulpit from which to shout but also a perspective that gives you something to shout about.)

But where does that leave me? I started writing for TOC because I love theatre and Chicago theatre particularly, and I wanted to participate more fully in it. I wanted to see more shows than I could on my own devices (and budget) and, I craved a forum wherein I could have a conversation with a broader range of artists than I could simply as an actor. I started this blog to continue that pursuit in some form or another, and I hope I’ll get better at it as I – as we – go along. But while I, Homunculus has created a lot of doors, I have to admit I am perched atop the other Fourth Wall, trying desperately to keep my balance.

*I had a great conversation with Kris Vire around the holidays: his relationship to theatre and mine were pretty similar until we both hit The Wall, when trying to serve two jealous masters became untenable. I said, “Being an actor means too much to me to jeopardize it.” He sort of laughed and said, “It was the exact opposite for me.”