October 13 – Day 37: We Made The New Yorker!
Today was our first two-show day: a matinee at 2:15, an evening at 7:15. Not much time before or between shows to do anything else, but we’re not getting paid to do anything else, are we?
Despite my lack of sleep (maybe six hours?; probably closer to five), I got up at 11:00 to take the train to the theatre. (I had planned on getting up at 10:30 and walking, but between the weather (still threatening to rain) and my sleepiness, there was no way).
I had a quick breakfast, stopped at Starbucks for a tea (which was, surprisingly, waiting for me), then took the 6 to 59th. It was a typical pre-show dressing room, some chat, some fooling around, but mostly everyone bitching about having to do two shows.
The most exciting part of the morning (for me) was that we got a good notice from The New Yorker, of all places. As is true in most shows, the subject of reviews is taboo once you’re in the building, so no one talked about it, but I quote it here:
Kurt Vonnegut’s 1961 novel, “Mother Night,” opens with one Howard W. Campbell, Jr., awaiting trial in a Jerusalem jail. Unbeknownst to his captors, Campbell is not the Nazi criminal they think he is but an American mole pretending to be one in the service of a higher cause. Brian Katz’s adaptation for the stage allows for some creative license, but the late satirist’s humor and humanity are present throughout. With Gabriel Grilli in the lead, a cast of seven plays upward of thirty memorable characters, from New York art critics to Soviet spies. At one point, it dawns on Campbell that “we are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.” The Custom Made Theatre Company has pulled off a cautionary morality tale, in true Vonnegutian style, as droll as it is dark.
I’ll be honest and say that most of our reviews haven’t been great (normally, I wouldn’t mention it, but it’s all in the public record, obviously). Some of them have been fair and others missed the point entirely. Personally, I think it’s fine work. I can’t vouch for everything I’m doing, but I’m giving it what I’ve got, so that’s all I can do. People have asked me more than once how this version compares with the original in San Francisco, and all I can say is, honestly, it’s just different. I’d gotten used to certain lines being read or scenes being played one way, and a lot of these are different, if only because this cast brings different backgrounds and skills to what they’re doing. It’s not better, it’s not worse; it’s just different. (I’m mostly the same, but, again, that’s what you get when you hire me. I’m making some different choices based on the stumuli I’m getting, but the basics of the performances are pretty much the same.) As I’ve said on more than one occasion here, I’ve had an advantage in that I had six weeks of rehearsal and four or five weeks of performance in the original production, plus two-and-a-half weeks of additional rehearsal here and (now) two weeks of performance, whereas everyone else has had only the latter. We’re only just now getting the hang of playing it, so that’s probably affected the reception. I expect that the New Yorker notice will help (I mean, this show is aimed at their demo), but you never know. Sales are pretty good for the rest of the run, so I think we’ll really have something by the end. (I mean, it’s good now, but will be something special in three weeks.)
The matinee performance was good. We didn’t reach the heights of Friday night (Yet Another Quiet Audience—soon to be acronymed YAQA), but the energy carried over and it went well.
We had a couple of hours between shows, so GG, Andi, Trish, and I went to a diner on 57th to get something to eat. We met GG’s artistic partner and roommate (who’s a dresser at The Nap, which is a Broadway show about snooker …). For some reason, everyone had omelets (same spinach omelet with different cheeses, so the waiter had to pry them open with a knife to see whose was whose) except me, who had chicken soup and an English muffin. (I just can’t eat something as heavy as an omelet before a show. I don’t know how anyone else can.) GG topped his with a blueberry muffin (which came cut in two—from top to bottom—and toasted, which I’d never seen before). He says if he doesn’t carbo-load before a performance, he runs out of gas in Act Two. Considering he’s on stage talking for two-and-a-half hours, I believe him.
The Palace Restaurant. I wasn't crazy about
the TV tuned to Fox News, but what the hell.
Conversation was lively at dinner as we talked about a lot of things we’d been wanting to talk about but hadn’t yet; it was almost all things about the show and the experience, but all of it was stuff we hadn’t had a chance to discuss in the rush to get the show up and running. I won’t say it was cathartic (that makes it sound too deep), but it was nice to finally talk about things.
We left the diner with about 45 minutes before our call, so we all split up to do small errands. I, having no errands to run, went back to the theatre. I hoped to get a little bit of a nap in, but (as explained in another post) there’s really nowhere in the building to take a nap, so I went down to the dressing room and tried to follow the Dodger game.
The evening performance was going to be a notable one for me, since Pidge was coming with her college friend, Chris. (I told her to wait a week until we got the thing broken in.) It was YAQA (I’m using it already!). Pidge did her best to get them going, but to no avail. The show was another good one; maybe not as lively as Friday’s, but with more energy than the matinee. I felt pretty focused and energetic for both performances, and it seemed like everyone was energized throughout.
Afterward, I introduced Pidge and Chris to everyone, and even though people were having drinks in the bar (Matt’s parents were in from Green Bay; Trish’s parents had come the night before, driving down from Toronto and staying in Newark [!]), but the three of us were off to eat. I was still pretty full from the soup and muffin, and they’d had dinner, so we tried to find a dessert place. Our first choice, Milk Bar, wasn’t a sit-down place, so we looked for something else. Part of my criteria was looking for a place not too far from a subway stop that would be convenient for Chris, since he would be heading back to Brooklyn. We briefly considered Monkey Bar, but I thought it might be a little dressier than we were, so we ended up at the “new” Junior’s on Broadway and 49th, which has taken over the old Ruby Foo’s space. I had hoped it might not be too crowded, since I had walked by the other night and it was (relatively) empty, but it felt as crowded as the one in Shubert Alley. (It didn’t help that was a huge group of singers who had just performed at Carnegie Hall; old white guys from Texas singing gospel. I guess it works, or they wouldn’t have been at Carnegie Hall …) We were quoted a wait time of 15 minutes, but it was closer to 25 before we were seated. Pidge and Chris opted for shakes, while I had a Manhattan and a slice of cheesecake (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it …). It was good. I mean, you go there expecting a certain type and quality of food, and that’s exactly what you get.
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