No Autographs, Please!
Celebrities are people. Whether we can admit this or not, we’re all just people in the same industry trying to make a living doing what we do. Now, of course, Actors more easily “blow up” and turn into household names rather than Stage Managers or even Directors. Actors put themselves out there: image, talent, & all their work. When they’re on stage, the audience sees them and go to the stage door, waiting to scream and gather autographs. The same audience member who gets “ga-ga” over and actor could elbow the director without even knowing it while trying to get to “the talent.” There’s no doubt that this could sometimes be annoying for the actor, especially after 10 years of fame.
In this industry, it is bound to happen that as our successful careers develop, we will work with more and more “celebrities” and high-profile actors. It is our job as professionals to make it just like any other day at work and not to treat it any differently. I’ve worked with my fair share of celebrities and have recently “flown solo” for the first time on a high-profile event. The theatre was the cleanest I’ve ever seen it, everyone was more dressed up than usual, and the Artistic Directors sat in my rehearsal for 10 minutes before I informed them that the highest profile actor attending wouldn’t be arriving until 3 hours later (at which news, they left, seemingly disappointed).
I held my own and did not “ga-ga” over any of the talented actors. I arranged a private dining area for my highest profile actor so he could eat without being disturbed. The agent of said actor and other actors thanked me for taking care of them and holding my own as I would any other rehearsal as a Stage Manager. Was I nervous & intimidated when I found out my cast for what I thought was going to be “just another staged reading?” Yes. Hell yes. But I’ve been lucky enough to work with even higher-profiled actors previously and I recalled what my mentor/greatest-stage-manager-ever did to deal with the public and create a safe space for someone who is just a person, despite the Oscars, Tonys, recognizable name, and overall success. Actors are actors and they cannot produce their best work if they think they have to “perform” for each section of the rehearsal. It is the job of the Stage Manager to make everyone comfortable, no matter how high or low profile a cast you end up having.
That being said, if you are working with a celebrity, I find it inappropriate to ask for an autograph or a picture during the work day. (If a photo/signing has been pre-arranged or if you have a publicist, that’s a different story). I say this because – after holding curtain for 25 minutes because of the over sold out crowd – I finally called places to my well-known cast. It took at least another 5 minutes to get the cast to places, as the higher-ups I was working for decided “places” meant a perfect opportunity to grab paraphernalia for the celeb to sign “make it out to my mother, she’s a big fan…” Now, as graciously as the actor handled this, I was not only annoyed that we were starting 1/2 hour late, but I was appalled at the timing and unprofessionalism of my producers. I guess my point is, remain professional no matter whom you’re working with, and you will gain respect and appreciation from all parties involved.
Cyber Salon
After seeing the response to my last post, from From the Dramaturg’s Desk and Art and Soul Acting blogs, I feel like I now believe all the things people would tell me about blogging. I have always envisioned the theatre artist, in any capacity, to be a bohemian (Bohemian: a person who has informal and unconventional social habits). You can’t get much more informal than a blog. It is not the kind of writing I am used to. I was trained, as so many young people, in formal essay and academic journal type writing. As it was explained to me, blogging is not that. It, to me, seemed more like ranting, but it’s proven to be so much more than that. Someone writes a blog and someone else comments on it, and someone comments about that comment, and so on. A dialogue has begun, a seed has been planted and random artists from all over the globe are adding bits of soil and water to help it grow.
The artist’s life is a way of life unlike any other, an ambiance you surround yourself with, a certain swagger to you emit. It is the people you choose to create with; but what if it’s not. What if you don’t choose them, but they choose you. That is what we all are going for in this profession. Let me work with you to create art or something like it. Trust me to give you valuable insights and possibly pay me for it. So what do you do? How do you put yourself out there in the vast sea of theatre artists? You expand your territory. Thus creating: the Cyber Salon. Any collective of artists can create an Salon-esque atmosphere. It is this environment that drew me to the Theatre world in the first place. The grand lounge of actors, writers, painters, etc., exchanging ideas and creating their respective arts in real time.
So here is the call to blog! Join the Ensemble in our very own Green Room, or join another site, or start your own blog and keep the dialogue going! If you already blog, why did you start? What drew you to this medium of expression? What have you learned since you started? What has blogging done for you lately?
I Am A California Triple-Threat
Hello! I am so thrilled to start blogging for The Green Room.
Here is a bit about me, so you have context for my posts!
I started out my performing career as a dancer, and switched to musical theater in college, after injury prevented me from continuing my 7 days a week of dancing.
I graduated a year ago with a B.A. in vocal performance with emphasis in musical theater. While in college I started my career in regional theater. Now I dabble in several aspects of the entertainment industry; performing, directing youth productions, teaching dance classes, coaching vocal students, and taking every opportunity I can to audition, train, and improve my craft. California has such potential for a young actress like me, and I love watching, experiencing, and participating in the entertainment industry any time I can!
Oh, did I mention I love Disneyland, coffee, and jazz music? I am Hannah, the California Triple-Threat.
My Oldest Drug
Hello, my name is Alexandra and I am an overcommitmentolic.
I have a very serious problem of saying “yes” much too much. It’s not even that I’m a “people pleaser” as much as I love to be busy and when I see a tiny window of time in my schedule I think, “Oh goodness, I should fill that.” Of course, what inevitably happens is that at some point it all becomes too much and things (mostly my mental health) suffer for it.
In the next month I am going to be going through a major change in my lifestyle. I’ve had the amazing opportunity for the past two years of being able to pursue many wonderful experiences that pay little or no money and know that all of my essential needs will be taken care of. That help dries up at the end of May of this year and I’ll have to support myself close that gap with a full-time job or multiple jobs (unless, of course, Broadway comes a-knockin’ in the next few weeks… it could happen… shhh stop giggling).
Having a full-time job, or working the equivalent of it between several jobs, is going to force me into a new kind of lifestyle. One in which I can’t just do any project that catches my eye. I’ll have to be very selective and do only the things I am wildly passionate about.
So, how do I choose my projects?
It’s time I developed a way to evaluate opportunities and, ultimately, decide whether to pick them up or pass on them. Let’s try some questions:
What is the initial draw to this project? Script? Director? Company? Neil Patrick Harris in the lead? (note: I would lick the stage clean before curtain each night if it meant I got to hang with NPH. Crazy? Maybe. Oh, well.)
How does this project help me to further my professional goals?
How does this project help me to satisfy my artistic appetite?
Who is attached to this project that I want to collaborate with?
What do I feel I bring to this project that no one else can?
How much time must I commit to ensure my work on this project is fully realized?
That feels like a good start. Do you have certain questions you pose to yourself when deciding whether to work on a new show or project?
And for your viewing pleasure, this is what happens when you drink too much coffee so you can stay awake to get script changes to your stage manager, send lyrics to your writing partner, find your receipts for your accountant, track down AEA members for program copy approval, and grab a dollar slice of pizza… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkWJDos13vw
The Curtain Call Criminals
Please excuse me while I rant for a moment. I have a serious bone to pick with Broadway audiences.
My friends, WHAT IS UP with the dozens of people who scramble to leave as soon as the first tremors of a Broadway show’s final applause begin? I’d like to have a little chat with those curtain call criminals one of these days. Here’s hoping they’re reading.
I have had the tremendous good fortune of seeing six different Broadway shows in the past month and saw this occur at every one of them, but nowhere was it more upsetting to me than at “Catch Me If You Can,” a three-hour musical spectacle (that I thoroughly enjoyed, for the record), which was so energetic and so demanding, that it seemed to be roughly the equivalent of a triple threat marathon for its many performers.
After watching dozens of singer-actor-dancers perform their hearts out (for did I mention THREE hours?), I was exhausted for them. Which made it all the more upsetting for me to watch seemingly unappreciative audience members who couldn’t even be bothered to reward them for their efforts with two minutes of applause.
This never happens at a high school play. I never experienced it during my community theatre days either. And it doesn’t even seem to happen at smaller NYC productions like those performed in the many off-Broadway and off-off-Broadway houses that dot the city.
So why Broadway? Is it the tourists who are so eager to catch their LIRR train that they can’t wait an extra two minutes? Is it industry folk who are so jaded that they can’t wait to get home and leave the biz behind for the night? Is it the anonymity of a large Broadway house that makes it seem okay to filter out without feeling “noticed”? Is it the fact that audience members feel more removed from Broadway performers because they don’t know any of the cast members personally and regard them as mini-celebrities who don’t have feelings?
Whatever the reason, it is a fact that the very brief moments that comprise a curtain call are nothing short of magical. Especially on Broadway, a quite literally legendary place that is the benchmark of success for hundreds of thousands of actors around the world, myself included. The actors who come out for that final bow have most likely spent decades of their lives training and sacrificing to hone their art and climb to the top of the heap, and have just spent two plus hours pouring their souls out on stage for the audience’s entertainment.
Curtain call is the time when those actors ask the audience to connect with them and share a tiny piece of their souls in return. Curtain call is the time to thank those actors. Sure, the audience members bought an expensive Broadway ticket to be there, but that money really thanks the Producers and the Designers and the Theater Management and too many other people to count. Yes, it pays the actors’ salaries, but let’s be frank – if actors could figure out a way to eat without getting a paycheck, most of them would do this for free. Your ticket price is also thanking the ushers by paying their salaries, but when they hand you a playbill, don’t you take the time to say a quick “thank you” as well? Why is a curtain call any different?
Obviously this is something that bothers me on a deep level (had you noticed by the novel I’ve written?), but I’d really like to hear how you feel about it: does it bother you when people walk out early on curtain call? Why or why not? And why do you think it happens so much more often in a Broadway house?
TO TEACH OR NOT TO TEACH?
After reading The Redheaded Actress’ post about survival jobs, I thought about quitting my survival job and what I could do to maintain my artistic lifestyle without sacrificing my sustenance. So I began brainstorming. Think about all the artists you know. Then think about the first artists you ever met. For me, these were teachers, mentors, and educators. Most artists within the Dramaturgy field stay deeply rooted in academia. Some people go to years of school just to become an educator… scour the job market in search of a group of young minds to fill with knowledge. I, personally, couldn’t wait to get into the professional world. I adored my professors, but I learned from them and now it’s time to make my own way. Is it really a “survival job” or can it become your life’s work?
What do you do with the knowledge you have? Write a book… Eh, who has the patience? Bestow it on your friends and family… Eh, who cares? Well, why not bestow it on those who are willing to pay to receive it? There are so many good reasons to teach. Without teachers, I would have never made it this far in life. If no one ever taught anyone anything, this world would have fallen to pieces eons ago.
Then the anxiety sinks in. Am I a “sell out?” Have I abandoned my work to talk about my work? What if you teach what you know about theatre… and your students go out and use that knowledge better than you ever could? Is it natural to resent your students? After all, what good is knowledge if it goes unused? That is the goal, right? To have your knowledge utilized for the greater good… to make great theatre.
Selling Myself Short
I have this really terrible habit of selling myself short.
Whether someone is complimenting my beautiful new headshots, or congratulating me on another successful performance of the Wicked girl scout workshop I’m involved in, I can’t seem to be okay with giving myself the credit I deserve.
“Oh, thanks. It was really all the photographer’s great work with lighting and color and…”
“Thanks, it’s so much fun to perform on a Broadway stage, but you know it’s just a workshop, not really that big of a deal…”
I’m not sure if it stems from the actorly desire to avoid appearing unjustifiably conceited, or if it’s fallout from my ambitious personality that can never be satisfied with its current accomplishments. But either way, it has to stop.
If I’m not my own fan, how can I expect anyone else to be? But on the other hand, how do I go about being my own fan without being so irritating that me, myself and I are my only three fans? And how do I get to an emotional place of being proud of what I’ve done, instead of focusing on what I haven’t yet accomplished?
I don’t think I’m alone on this, but I’d love to see how others feel, so I created a fun little poll. Vote, people, vote! 🙂
I don’t have the answers on this one, guys. For those of you who think you’ve struck a great balance, I want to know — how do you straddle the line between being your own fiercely obnoxious #1 fangirl and being a healthy, well-adjusted supporter of your own work and achievements? And how did you get to a place where you could be proud of yourself without incessantly analyzing how much farther along you could be?
How to Properly Approach an Artistic Director
I’m not going to lie, sometimes I dread meetings with directors or thespians simply because they just seem to want to talk theatre. I’ve had the, “I’ve got this idea on how to do a cool version of The Crucible requiring a Broadway space, budget, and designers.” I run an Off-Off Broadway Theatre Company, my seating capacity is 50, and my budget is slim to mediocre. I’m glad you’re inspired by a classic piece and are a theatre enthusiast, but I’m a busy girl and would rather have coffee with you on a day off to chat about theatre aesthetics than listen to a “pitch” for an interpretation of a show that my company simply cannot produce.
I’ve recently had such a meeting. My “what do you expect from my company” was answered with flubbed “isn’t it a cool idea? Even though we’d need a much larger space, and couldn’t do it at your theater, isn’t it a cool idea?” Again, I say “how would you like my company to be involved should we choose to hop on board.” “Ummm… it’s a cool idea? What do you think?” Honestly, I’ve decided it’s not a project for us half an hour ago when you mentioned the hydraulics and split level set. After so many of these “give me money to do my crudely planned dream production” meetings, it’s hard sometimes to stay positive when having a pitch meeting. But today was a pleasant surprise, and inspired me to share my tips on approaching an Artistic Director.
First of all: dress nicely (graphic tees & holey jeans SCREAM unprofessional and that you don’t take the industry seriously). Nice pair of jeans, slacks, skirts, and solid color or textured tops are appropriate. Second, understand that an Artistic Director is mostly interested in the interpretation/direction planned for the piece if it is an established play (DON’T say “I’m bald and tall… I have a 10-year-old redhead daughter… I want to do ANNIE!!!”). Have a printed copy of the script, along with your written (concise – 1 page tops!) proposal to hand to the Artistic Director. Have sketches and be fully prepared to answer any questions about the proposed production (note: “that’s still in development” is an appropriate answer.) Stay attentive, listen to the Artistic Director’s concerns and ideas. Be willing to “riff” ideas with the Artistic Director to show the flexibility of your creative vision. Also, though we never like to admit it, the money does come into effect. Make sure you include in your pitch what will appeal to an audience or if you already have an established fan base that will help boost ticket sales. Creative guerilla marketing techniques are the new fad, too (not to mention: they work!).
So, in short, remember the business end of this crazy industry when approaching a theatre company with a project that is dear to you. This way, your idea will be taken more seriously, and the time will have been beneficial to both you and the Artistic Director you’ve presented your project with.
The Green Room 
