a poor player

Dunkirk NY -  In the last post I mentioned all the reasons I became an actor. That’s “the rock.” What I think is fair to say about me artistically at this point is that my interest in acting in today’s theatrical climate is waning. If I had to sum it up all in one thought, it is simply that I feel that the theatre, at almost every level, has become commercialized and commodified. That holds little interest for me. That’s “the hard place.”

“Show business” is the reality of the day, and I was not, never have been, and probably never will be a good businessman. As I’ve mentioned before, early on in my career – about three years into pursuing a professional career in New York City in the late 70s and my subsequent failed attempt at NYU – I realized that the business aspects of theatre were going to be my professional undoing. I just didn’t like that aspect of it, and I think if you’re going to be a professional actor you really have to like all that as well as the time you spend on the stage. Hence the choice to become an educator.

Adding on to this “hard place” is the overwhelming “survival mentality” I get both from working in Buffalo and reading the broader theatre news. It does not seem anymore that theatres can simply exist and create – they throw a lot of energy into staying economically afloat, simply surviving. This survival mentality affects every choice made, from what shows to select to which actors to hire. I’ve had the unsettling feeling over the past 18 months that my status as an Equity actor has meant I have lost acting jobs in Buffalo. My Fredonia colleague Jim Ivey and I have talked at length about abandoning Equity since it is a barrier to being hired by Buffalo theatres. And who can blame them? The city has a good supply of non-Equity actors, and when survival becomes a factor in every decision, choosing non-union over union only makes economic sense.

This survival mentality makes it difficult to focus on the artistic side of theatre. It also gives rise to a hustler attitude. Everybody in theatre these days is some sort of hustler. Perhaps it was always so.  But when theatres are hustling for dollars, for subscribers, for new audiences, or for the smallest shred of publicity and notoriety, and when theatre artists of all types are hustling for jobs and attention, I think it creates an atmosphere where thinking about art is very, very hard. I find as an actor that these days, when I work, I can very seldom concentrate on the things I wanted to achieve when I first set out to be an actor. When you’re hustling for that next job, it’s often of no concern to you whether or not the job has any artistic integrity or interest. It becomes just the next opportunity to gain a press notice, some new networking connections, and a few dollars to pay the overdue bills.

I’d say that in my career I’ve had the opportunity to be involved in three really extraordinary theatrical situations where my reasons for wanting to be an actor and the theatrical situation came together. The first was my undergraduate experience. I happened to go to college at a time when the professors were young and passionate, the cultural climate conducive to experimental productions, the money was available, and the students were eager, talented and commited to creative and emotionally powerful theatre. The second was the Wisconsin Shakespeare Festival during 1990-1994. Those years saw some superb young talent come through and create sharp, stirring productions of Shakespeare’s works, including actors who went on to become the nucleus of today’s Milwaukee theatre scene. The third was my sabbatical year spent at the American Shakespeare Center in Staunton VA. Their unique way of presenting Shakespeare with “original practices,” the beautiful Blackfriars Theatre, the talented actors and directors in residence (Jaq Bessell and Jim Warren in particular), and the outstanding talent – a mix of a strong nucleus of resident actors with selected talent through audition – created for me an ideal environment of ensemble. Even though they have also had to scramble to raise money during this recession, the opportunity they gave me to tour the eastern half of the US, work with some wonderful young talent, mix and mingle with their strong resident company is one I wont’ forget.

I would be remiss, though, if I did not mention how much over the years I have enjoyed working in the city of Buffalo. I was fortunate to have come to Buffalo at a time when the theatre scene was just coming into its own artistically. What has been unique about Buffalo, though, has not been the work at any one theatre, but the actual community of actors in the city. Here’s what Aaron Petri (Caliban), a newcomer to Buffalo’s theatre scene, had to say in a recent Buffalo News article previewing The Tempest:

Petri, who has a long list of stage credits behind him at theaters around the country, moved to Buffalo after reading about the city’s vibrant art scene and low cost of living in several national publications.

“I wanted to live a little bit more reasonably because Boston is becoming more and more expensive. I wanted to find a more reasonable city to live in with a really nice arts community,” Petri said, “so I just decided that I’d try my luck here in Buffalo. I left it over to the powers that be and had a tremendous amount of faith. I heard before I came to Buffalo that it was the City of Good Neighbors, and it’s so true. Everybody has been very welcoming.”

None of us work at any one theatre exclusively, but invariably as an actor you end up working with a number of people you have worked with before. This creates a sort of de facto ensemble of actors who know each other’s tendencies, strengths and weaknesses, and who are comfortable with each other on stage. Many shows I’ve been in have been quite dymanic: productions of Burn This, Hamlet, Waiting for Godot, The Chosen and Shadow of a Gunman leap to mind. But even in Buffalo the feeling of survival and hustle have set in, prompted in great part by the demise of Studio Arena Theatre, the city’s former and only LORT house.

So what choices remain? That’s something I think I will explore in the next part of this series. Right at the moment I am running up against my call time for The Tempest, so it’s best to leave this as is and wait for the next writing opportunity.  -twl