Weeks Two and Three, Finding the Flow...

Almost done with Week 3, and I've finally seemed to find the rhythm of touring life. It's in 5/4 time and syncopated, mind you, but the rhythm is there.

Cities We've Hit:

• Ogdensburg, NY 
• We played to a sold out middle school auditorium. Our dressing room was the library, where our resident Historian spent Intermission finding a book on Crack and reading it out loud to my knights. Good times.
• Portland, ME 
• Oh my God, Portland is beautiful. Pictures below. And the city is rocking, with a great arts scene. Walking back from the theater, I passed some street performers doing fire eating and fire poi. What does it say about my previous place of residence that it made me feel homesick?
• Wallingford, CT
• Where my beautiful fiance drove up to see me, God bless her. Also, we wanted to hit the hotel's restaurant/bar after the show, but it was already rented out to a Swingers convention. God's honest truth...
• Saginaw, MI
• We actually had a day off in Saginaw, which we used to discover that there is very little to do in Saginaw. At least, not within walking distance.
• Mansfield, OH
• Home of the Ohio State Reformatory where The Shawshank Redemption was filmed.
• Benton Harbor, MI
• Where they fed us before the show. Those are my favorite theaters, hands down.

Keeping it Fresh

One of the great challenges an actor faces when performing the same show for any period of time is keeping the experience 'fresh.' How do you convey the impression that your character is experiencing something for the first time, even though as an actor you've said these lines dozens of times before? (As a point of reference, those actors who were on the tour last year are approaching their three hundredth performance.)

The next time you see a show that's been running for a long time, particularly a matinee, keep an eye out for the tell-tale signs of the 'been there, done that' attitude that an actor can fall into if they're not careful. Maybe one character responds to another's question almost as soon as the question is out of their mouth, without allowing any time to actually think up the answer, almost as though that character psychically knew exactly what the other person was going to say. Or, more subtly, perhaps during a long monologue an actor falls into a comfortable vocal cadence that, while pleasing and polished, is too rhythmic and melodic to have any spontaneity. It's hard to define exactly, but sometimes you get the feeling that a line delivery has become more mechanical than human.

But on the other hand, it's an equally bad idea to try changing things arbitrarily just to keep the actors on their toes. Then the show runs the risk of losing its cohesiveness and forfeiting the benefit of those hours upon hours of rehearsal. A truly great show is able to find that perfect balance of polish and presence, where the characters seem to make their choices (in a visually pleasing and well-paced way) for the first time, every time, even though they've been making pretty much the exact same choices for the past hundred shows.

One of the legends of the Ren Faire circuit, Doug Kondziolka, who's been performing his show Don Juan and Miguel in pretty much the same way for nigh on 30 years (but so help me finding a way to make it seem like the first time, every time), put it well: "If you're looking to make a change, ask yourself whether you're doing it because the audience is bored or because you're bored. Changing something that an audience loves every time just because you're tired of it is a bit of a selfish choice for a performer."

None of this is meant to be in judgement of any other actor, because this is a struggle that every performer -- myself included -- deals with on a daily basis. We walk a very narrow ledge. You might fall into a chasm on one side and find yourself, motivated by either boredom or self-doubt, making a choice that while spontaneous and fresh makes no sense in the overall story. On the other side of the ledge lie the perils of by-rote line delivery, speaking your words without really listening to what your scene partner is saying. And fall to far into that abyss and you'll reach the seventh level of artistic hell: phoning it in.

How to resolve this conflict? Well, pretty much the actors who have figured that out really are the ones who became legends. Different performers will use different tricks to keep at the very least the illusion of newness. I wish I had the words to delineate them here (although I'm sure many people have been able to). For me, the answers are mostly subconscious... they reveal themselves at just the right moment in a particular scene, but are wiped from my memory once the scene is done. And I'm quite certain I fail to keep something truly present just as often as I succeed, although hopefully in ways too subtle for most of the crowd to notice. 

Part of the job is having faith that the longer you do a show, the more of those tools for 'keeping it real' you'll discover, and the easier they'll be to use.

Pictures!

On Peak's Island, off the coast of Portland. One section of the beach sported dozen of stone cairns, which I can only assume the locals have built up over time. I'm not sure if there's some spiritual significance to them.

First stop at any mall I hit: 15 minutes 'testing' the products at Brookstone.

Found a gamestore in Mansfield that was an absolute Mecca for old Nintendo games. Really made me miss by old NES.

The theatre in Mansfield, OH. A dozen pictures could not do this place justice. I felt like I was performing in Aladdin's palace.

My castmate Carl standing next to a truly old school dimmer box at the theatre in Mansfield. That's how lights and special effects used to be run. Hardcore.

'Nuff said.

Week One and the Bus Experience

Week one has finished of the tour, and so far it's gone great. The crowds have ranged from hysterically lively to quietly appreciative, but we've gotten a standing ovation from each one so far.

Cities We've hit This Week:

• Bradford, PA (Home of the Zippo)
• Williamsport, PA (where my old friend Issac Falkes came to see it)
• Toledo, OH (where my dear uncle, aunt, and grandma attended)
• Easton, PA (home of the Crayola factory, and thanks to all the Faire fans who swung by that night too)
• Wilkes-Barre, PA
• West Point, NY 
• Charleston, WV

Some beautiful countryside, from West Point especially. A sparkling river running through rolling hills and mountains. We got off the bus, and someone said "Where's Hogwarts?" I looked at the castle-like architecture of the West Point buildings and said "I think we're at it."

A Peek Behind the Curtain

And now for a little bit of inside info about the glamorous life of the touring actor. Today we'll discuss the bus. Which, as buses go, is quite nice. Everyone gets their own two seats; this was a very good decision on the company's part, as being able to stretch a bit has a massive effect on morale, especially considering we're on that thing for an average of 7 hours a day.

There's power, and a wireless internet connection that kind of works, but only when specific conditions are met (I'm starting to figure out the formula... it's a complex algorithm based on the bus's GPS location, vector and speed of the bus itself, where you're seated on the bus, and Mercury's position in relation to Saturn's house). Motion sickness is an issue, but with a good supply of Dramamine I'm pretty set to watch movies, or check email (sporadically), or conquer Europe: I play a computer game called Europa Universalis which I'm convinced helps get me in character for the show, since it involves being the leader of a European nation.

This bus is certainly not without its challenges. Sleep is the big one. Many of our bus calls are as early as 4:30 in the morning, and there are quiet hours enforced until noon. Everyone tries to get as much shut-eye as they can during this time, but this is no easy procedure. 

Half the cast sleeps stretched out on their seats, with their torso on one doubleseat and their legs spanning the gap so their feet rest upon the corresponding doubleseat on the other side. These are the seat sleepers, of which I am one. Your advantage as a seat sleeper is you get the padding of the chairs. However, since the seats don't line up exactly right, you need to sleep at some interesting angles in order to fully stretch out. I have found three positions (on my left side, on my back, on my right side) from which I may attempt slumber, but each of these requires a slightly different contortion and a different combination of seats used to achieve maximum comfort (which, even at its maximum, is tolerable at best).

Then there are the floor sleepers. These adventurous, non-claustrophobic souls lower themselves down into the gap between the seats, where they then stretch out to the best of their ability. Frequently, they will lay down all manner of padding first; mattress topper, yoga mats, blankets, etc. Once you get down there, there's a surprising amount of room, but the process of lowering yourself into your desired position is arduous enough that it requires a commitment: you better know for sure that you're going to sleep once you go down into the floor cave, because it's a long and complicated process if you want to surface for air.

Make no mistake, sleep is possible on this bus, but it is a hard fight that will result in at best a pyrrhic victory. You doze in fits and starts; forcing yourself to close your eyes, knowing full well that it might just be you and your thoughts for maybe even half an hour before sleep overtakes you... and then you might wake up only half an hour later to begin the process again. 

Every magical moment that I glance at my watch, close my eyes, then glance at my watch again and notice that a measurable amount of time has passed while I was in REM is a battle won in the war against insomnia. But these victories are not achieved without their share of scars: aching muscles that result from strange and eldritch sleeping positions, or bruises that you develop from God knows what poking into your back for hours at a time.

Don't even get me started on if you have to go to the bathroom. Imagine being at the front of the bus, looking to your destination at the back, and finding your way blocked my a jungle of arms and legs; some at floor level, some floating two feet up like fallen trees in a slumbering human Amazon. A spider monkey in top physical condition might be able to make the trek... whereas I usually just try to hold it to the next rest stop.

Pictures!

This is the theatre at West Point. It seats over 4,000, apparently. Largest space we've played so far.

This is the view from the stage of the Wilkes-Barre Theatre.

This is the view from BELOW the stage of the Wilkes-Barre Theatre. I went looking for the green room and wound up on Battlestar Galactica.


This is an abstract scuplture outside the theatre in Charleston. When viewed in the light, it's shape seems meaningless, but when viewed in silhouette...


It's clearly a crude representation of the "Trojan Rabbit" from Spamalot. Either that or Don Quixote tilting at windmills...

King's Log the First: Bradford, PA

First Stop: Bradford, PA. This place is gorgeous in the autumn:

Bradford is a beautiful town with some wonderfully welcoming people. It used to be a big oil center, and I got the impression that oil is still a large part of their industry.









Some items of note:

• Bradford is the birthplace of the Zippo lighter. We went to their museum, and I found myself almost wishing that I smoked, just so I could have had an excuse to get a good Zippo. They put a lot of pride into the quality of their product, so much so that they guarantee a full repair on any Zippo that stops working, no matter the cause of the damage or how long it's been since you bought it.

• The Option House: This is a hotel/tavern that was first established in 1902, called the Option House because that's where high stakes investors would meet to trade oil options. It's owned by a fantastic man named Sam Sylvester, who invited us in for free drinks (even though the place was closed) when he found out that we were with Spamalot. Apparently he used to love coming here when he was young, then when he returned to Bradford from the military 40 years later, he found out it had become a real dive bar. He raised the money to buy the place himself 3 years ago, and restored it to its former splendor. It looks like an honest to god high quality 1920s speakeasy now, including a beautiful dining room called the peacock parlor. If you're in Bradford and are looking for a place to eat, I cannot recommend this place enough. It really was the best of small town America. Also check it out at www.theoptionhouserestaurant.com