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One Bud, Well Bit

In the fall of 1978, I arrived at Yale to a class welcome by the then new president of Yale, A. Bartlett Giamatti.

Bart talked funny.
He couldn't help it. He'd read too much Dante.

During his Welcome Address To The Incoming Class of 1982, he compared his own summer of 1978 to ours, filled with uncertainty about arriving at Yale: for us, as freshman; for him, as the new president, a freshman of sorts.

But he didn't say it that way. He said, during the summer,

"The worm
of apprehension
bit deep
in the bud
of anticipation."

I recall we applauded the line. It was perfect. The phrase washed over us with delight, the intellectual joy of realizing that, yes, in fact, we had arrived at a special place, where words are discretely chosen, arguments are deeper, authenticity is pursued.

And we all knew — we felt it in our bones — how the worm would not let that bud alone.

Bart and Me
Bart eventually advanced his career toward his true love. More than Yale, baseball. He left Yale to become president of the National League and eventually Commissioner of Baseball.

As President of the National League, Bart courageously banned Pete Rose from baseball. It's a long story that many might remember: the popular player, called "Charlie Hustle" for his grit and determination, was destined for the Hall of Fame, but gambled on baseball. So Bart banned him. I don't think Mr. Rose was even allowed to come watch a game, except at home on his television.

Still now, decades later, Pete Rose remains the only living human who is ineligible for induction into the Hall of Fame. I think he needs to die first. And even then?

At the All-Star Break that summer, 1988, The New York Times asked sports fans, "Who are the league M.V.P.'s at this stage?" I responded briefly with this published letter. (When I didn't hear from Mr. Giamatti, I sent him the clipping from the newspaper. He responded with this keepsake.)

Bart was soon elevated to Commissioner of Baseball. Back then The Commissioner was a position of courage, an independent power, staring down both players and owners, as an advocate for neither, rather as a single-minded defender of the Integrity Of The Game Of Baseball. After Bart died, his lawyer and long-time friend Fay Vincent (and chief investigator of Pete Rose) became the eighth Commission of Baseball. Mr. Vincent expelled George Steinbrenner, who was later reinstated.

Unless the current Commissioner — coincidentally known as "Bud," as in "the bud of anticipation" — wishes to write me a letter and set me straight, I believe the Commissioner now serves the owners.

Great Reading
One of the best essays ever written is about baseball, by Bart Giamatti. You don't have to love baseball to love this essay, this writer — and his son, the actor Paul Giamatti. (Here is "The Green Fields of the Mind.")

But This Isn't About Baseball.
This is about the worm of apprehension, biting deep into the bud of anticipation. 

New Bud, Same Worm
Tomorrow morning, we drive our elder child to college in New York City.

We were supposed to leave this morning.

But the Hurricane Irene rages toward Manhattan, expected to arrive at the original college drop-off time.

Our family is already worm-bit. Now, we hope for the best for all in the path of Irene.

And we wait for a chance to leave apprehension behind, shake off the worm, and get to the future.

All my life, I have thought of his immortal phrase: "The worm of apprehension bit deep in the bud of anticipation."

Now, I see it from another perspective.

Dancing With The Big Kids

I'm suddenly surrounded by people who know more than I do.

I'm always with someone who knows more than I do. (Everyone knows something I don't.)

But, now, in this experience, I am surrounded by people who are much more experienced than I am.

A Freshman At the Senior Dance
That's how a participant in an improvisation training recently put it. "I so often feel," she said, "like I'm a freshman at the senior dance." 

That's how I feel.

And I'm going to feel it big, right through this Saturday night's performance at the Riffe Center.

One night only. Tickets will be sold at the door (or in advance here). It's a great play and we will fully stage it (although we will be carrying our scripts).

Meet the Seniors
I'm not the youngest person on stage (unless age = cumulative time, life-to-date, acting on stage).

Consider the formidable talents: 

• Geoffrey Nelson, founding Artistic Director, CATCO
• Jeanine Thompson, Associate Professor, OSU Department of Theatre
• and magnificent AVLT Company Members Elena Perantoni and Acacia Duncan. 

(And me.)

The play will be directed by well-loved actor Ian Short, also known for his direction of Available Light’s Our Town, The Odd Couple, and To Kill A Mockingbird.

So Why Is This Different?
In all the other plays throughout my alleged acting career, there has always been someone beside me on stage — someone — who has less experience acting than I do.

Frankly, I've quietly thought, "Anytime I'm the most experienced actor on stage, the show is in trouble."

That's not happening on Saturday. These rehearsals have been unbelievably eye opening. Everyone around me is more than an actor. Each one is a theatre teacher, too.

Example.
My character — the most complex character I've ever played — has a strange stage direction in the script. I don't know what to do.

So, late last night, I sent a note to Geoff Nelson (who plays "James") asking him what to do. I broke a rule. It's bad form to ask another actor for direction. (That's the director's job.) But I'm in a learning mode and wanted to hear what the other guy on stage might say.

So I asked:

Hey, Geoff, this probably breaks all the rules (not that I know any), but next time I see you would you please demonstrate (from page 45) what you think it might look like when "Schultz convulses in horrible, strained, silent laughter"?

Here is his answer. (Ethical malfeasance alert: I don't have Geoff's permission to post this. There isn't time. I should not post it. I apologize in advance, which is not a true apology. It isn't fair. Geoff didn't prepare this for public viewing.)

But consider how excellently he wrote this in the late night. If you aren't an actor or director you might not appreciate how he does not tell me how to do it. (That would be too much intervention.) He simply teaches — correctly — where I should be spending my energy to "convulse" in the "horrible, strained, silent laughter." 

Geoff's answer, unedited, beautiful as it is:

Sure — but I imagine the problem you are having with it is not how it looks but what his intention is in doing it. Presumably, this is something he does completely consciously as a way to express, either to himself or to her, his reaction to whatever she has said just before this. The fact that "horrible" and "strained" are combined with "laughter" suggest to me that he views what she said (and I don't remember what that was) as incredibly hurtful yet also absurd.  It might be helpful to consider what his "subtext" might be, if you are familiar with that term in the actor sense.  (An actor has a lot of choices about the meaning and intention of every line he says, beyond the literal content of the words. (So a line like "Hi" can have a subtext of "I'm really glad to see you" or "Oh, my God, what are you doing here?" or "Who are you, exactly?"). His subtext might be "She is driving me crazy" or it might be "You are driving me crazy." Since the character himself is "acting" this feeling — illustrating it, in a way — then it is really a gesture, the same sort of thing as hitting yourself on the head and then saying "I could have had a V8!" or pointing your finger at the side of your head about someone or something and humming the Twilight Zone theme.  He is commenting.  The size of the gesture — it's a very large comment — is meant to convey how deeply he is affected by what she is doing.  I don't think you need to worry about it being "real" -- it is his way of giving expression to the depth and pain of feelings that he cannot easily express in a natural way.  It's his symbol of how he is feeling, meant to convey how much more strongly he is feeling it than his outside demeanor might indicate.  It is also a pretty bold and a very brave sort of statement of who he is and what he feels that no other character in this play would have the [courage] to make — at least at this point in the play.  

Anyway, I'd be happy to work on it with you.

Isn't that marvelous? In Geoff's hands — and the others on the cast and crew are equally gifted teachers — this is a truly teachable moment.

I'm sorry for posting Geoff's comments without his permission. I will seek it today.

Come. 
Go ahead. Come, spur of the moment!

 

One great show. One night only.

Two weeks from this Saturday, on August 20th, I'll be appearing in a play called Circle Mirror Transformation. One night only.

It's a wonderful piece that's won a ton of awards all over the country, but there are more reasons to encourage you to attend.

An All-Star Cast (and me)
You'll see Geoffrey Nelson (founding Artistic Director of CATCO) and Jeanine Thompson (the head of OSU's Acting & Directing program), alongside beloved Available Light company members Elena Perantoni and Acacia Duncan (both seen in far too many hits to list here.)

And me.

No Do-Overs
It's a one-night-only production. There's a particular electricity that comes from knowing we've only got one shot to get it right. (It's a staged reading though, so we'll have the scripts to back us up.)

For A Good Cause
And, it's a fundraiser. Available Light's mission is to make great theater accessible for everyone who wants to attend. My appearance in this show, and your attendance, will support their Free Readings Series and their Pay What You Want ticketing program. 

A Personal Note
Personally, I love this show because it's about acting — and about people who dream of being actors. That hits pretty close to home. No. It hits home directly. Right in the home in my heart. 

For Tickets And More Information
Please visit: http://avlt.co/avltcmt or call 614-558-7408.

Hope to see you there.