WHY I DONT READ REVIEWS

Talk to any actor who's been around longer than say ten years, and they will tell you the story of a review that broke their heart. It sure happened to me. So now I don't read them. It's a selfish reason. But after a few shows, it changed how I approach my work.

The rehearsal process. You meet a group of strangers, and over the next 2 weeks (which, according to the CAEA, is plenty of time!) you open your hearts, your minds and your bodies to each other. You bound around the stage laughing, raging, mewling, howling, musing and panting as your director sits and watches. Then you all gather together following this tempest and take notes. You listen to your director and you write them down, attempting perhaps to understand what the thing LOOKS like from the outside... but if you DO, if you think like the director and not the player, then you lose what is beautiful about the whole process: You DONT KNOW what it looks like. So you put all your trust in your director, your stage manager, and your fellow actors: not to tell you when you do well, not to validate you, but to gently guide you away from anything forced, feigned or false.

Opening Night. The audience steps in to become the final scene partner. They sigh, laugh, groan, check their watch, weep, storm out, smile, or as in the well-known anecdote: unknowingly imitate the sound of a flock of birds as six hundred and fifty pairs of arms simultaneously unfold. Some of these responses you hear, and most you do not. You hear the laugh, and many actors fall upon it like a magnet. "You laugh, I succeed. You like me. You put value to what I do." But there are so many things you don't hear. You don't hear people's hair stand up on the backs of their necks. You don't hear someone's heart tremble because that actress suddenly looks like the lover they lost. You don't hear the wall erect in the mind of someone who just can't think about the beauty of grief just yet. If this is to happen, it is carefully shaped by the writer and the director. These are things you cannot know.

From the safety of the audience, and then from the numbing blue light of their computer, the reviewer reviews. He or she appoints the star, the vulnerable, the beginner, the weak link, the fearless, the comic, the natural, the loveable, the old, the young, the promise, the predictable, the waning, the rising, the failure.

The reviewer is an expert in his/her field and has watched thousands of plays. Their opinion is valid, and at best, controversial. A well-written passionately delivered review can launch a career and simultaneously destroy one. They flagrantly point out each weakness. Each strength. A good review can sell out a show. A bad review can close it. Right or wrong. Glowing or scathing. They do hold power.

Theatre tradition forbids actors to offer one another advice on each others performance. It forbids the director to give notes after opening except in extreme cases... often, it's when the director has read a review then panics and returns to the rehearsal hall to 'tweak' the play.

Often I've read a review of a play where the likable characters get glowing reviews and the unlikeable characters get bad reviews. The actor in the cast who 'shines', upstaging their fellow actors, gets lauded in the reviews. These opinions are valid as someone WATCHING, but how can they have insight into the subtle interpersonal web that is your cast and company: your PROCESS.

Opening night is a celebration of the work you have done so far. For the director, they leave it in your hands: not as a finished work of art, but as a living breathing entity. It will change, and grow, and deepen.

Don't set yourself in stone that day. Allow change. Allow growth. Play to closing not opening. It's called opening for a reason. It's a beginning.

You can do this by continuing to honour the vision of your director. Be present with your fellow actors and give them everything you've got. Trust your Stage Manager who is now steering the ship. Be grateful for your crew, your life is literally in their hands.

I promise that the discoveries you make along the way will be worth it.

As for your reviewers, challenge their ideas of what theatre can be by risking it all.

And for gods sake, give them something to write about.

Long Time No...

So its been a long time since I've written to you.

March I guess.

No need in summing up or catching up...

but I will anyway: Buddy Holly. All the amazing folks on that show, what a family. Especially Denis Simpson. You were always there for a belly laugh cross over, or a green room heart to heart to heart about whatever came up.


After that, a wonderful summer. Auditions. and the beach.

My brother married his Michelle at our family cabin. The best week ever.

From there I drove back to Vancouver to shoot one day on 'Untold Stories of the ER' then got up at 4am to drive straight to Burning Man.

That is another story altogether.

Came home to fringe, then by Hallowe'en produced The Soap Show (which fell apart) The Life Game (which is coming together) and Here Be Monsters (which was magic, amidst chaos)

I went all Rock Star on Saturday Night, then actually slept through the final night of the festival. Wow. Then got up to strike the fest, then home to pack my bags and clean my apartment to hop a plane (barely) at 7am to go to Winnipeg for a month. Back To You: The Life and Music of Lucille Starr. That's with two R's.

Now I'm home.

To Violet.

And my friends.

And TheatreSports. Teaching. Writing.

And to support my cousin who has quit drinking, for my dad who had to stop smoking (a daily smoker since he was 11years old), and for dear Jenny, I have embarked on #DryDecember.

No Booze, Cigarettes, Pot, Drugs, Prescription Drugs, and limited coffee and red meat. For a month. Or at least til Christmas. It's going pretty great so far.

Realized that since Twitter, I have not written in my journal, so I have decided to keep up with this again. Mostly from here on in it will be small updates from my life, but mostly observations of life in the theatre.

That's all for now.

The Drive

So when i moved to Vancouver in 2000 I drove all my stuff out in my dad's Chevy Blazer. Part way through the Coquihalla I ran out of gas. I alternately coasted and waited until I got about 30 km's away from Hope where I hitched a ride, bought gas, took a cab back to the truck, and finally arrived to the apartment where I moved in with my girlfriend at about 4am.

This week I saw three fantastic plays. Jake's Gift by the talented Julia Mackey. Where the Blood Mixes by Kevin Loring, who is one of my best friends. It was amazing. Then yesterday, I drove to Kamloops to see The Miracle Worker at WCTC, directed by Jeremy Tow. It the remount of a project I almost did, and hadn't seen. The production was gorgeous. Visited with the cast after at the house of the late Artistic Director, then hopped in my car to drive home at midnight.

Just outside of Merrit, still 2.5 hrs from Vancouver, my interior lights all died. I found a tiny lamp that I used to use for a light and set it up in front of the speedometer so I had an idea of how fast I was going. I also had just got new brakes done, and was supposed to get them tuned after 100km, so I was worried they might just give way. i missed the turn for Merrit to get a hotel, then the lamp died too. I finally pulled over in the middle of the mountains and slept for about 3 hours (in 20 minute segments, where i would make up and turn the heater on) until the sun almost rose and drove the rest of the way home.

I stopped again to nap around Langley, and a cop knocked on my window. He wondered if I was drunk. I explained my story. I had left my lights on. Luckily the car started and I drove home by 9am to make it to my scene study class for 10am.

I learned: work hard. be a man. play to win.

Trio takes comic trip through Canada's past

We opened THE CANADA SHOW last night. After a great weekend of Olympic madness.

Going through security to see the Finland Germany hockey game was tense...

I put my jacket in the bin, "OH, you have a secret pocket." We all watched as she opened it, took out my glasses, then replaced them and zipped it up. Thank god.

And the flame, and Robson Square, and the Fireworks, and all of it WALKING.

Slowly, but walking.

On my new NIKE high tops.

And THE CANADA SHOW went great, It takes me an extra push to get on the box, and Leif Erickson runs a little slower than in 2002,

but I'm on stage.

Here is the article from the interview I did with the Province.

Trio takes comic trip through Canada's past

Home

Today is 6 weeks since I broke my leg.

Last night was the first night I spent in my own bed in 2 weeks.

I just got home from an interview with the Vancouver Province about my leg and our upcoming production of The Canada Show.

Interviews are funny. I always want them to ask me in depth questions and be really interested in my life and my challenges. But they want some witty facts.

And I'm happy with that.

I am going to take the air cast off now.

opening ceremony

I flew to Edmonton on the day of the opening ceremony.
Singular.
The closing ceremonies are plural.
Go figure.
Everyone at the airport must've known I was from Vancouver,
I was the only one that wasn't watching them, who walked away from the televisions to get a coffee.
I saw the citadel production of Sweeney Todd.
Gorgeous.
The music is so good. These intricate melodies swooping through each other like razors...
And Johanna looked so cute in her sailor suit...
We stayed in bed til 4 that day.
I can totally walk on my cast now,
The crutches are just for speed,
And I needed them, as I checked in for both flights exactly 30 minutes before they left.
When I flew home the woman was like,
"go now!" I was like, "i'm trying, quit talking to me!"
I arrived in Vancouver at 8:30am.
I took the canada line with the entire world to starbucks where I met my partner for the scene study class i'm taking.
The class went from 10am - 3pm.
I was nervous because I hadn't read the whole play,
Nor did I feel 100% off book.
He said at one point about how this class is where you can work.
Enjoy how much work you can do.
Then I didn't feel bad anymore,
Cuz that's why i'm here.
To work.
To push myself further.
To work on work.
And it went good.
Great.

Dancing

So, Its february 11th and I am back in vancouver.

The last night in Port mcNeill we ended up at the party for an entire womens hockey tournament. hundreds of womens hockey players dressed in jean shorts, cowboy shirts, giant cowboy hats, amazing costumes. And I danced on my broken leg.

Tonight I just got home from more dancing, the 'Dance marathon' as  part of the cultural olympiad presented by my friends at boca del dupo. two of the dancers are subletting my apartment, so I got free tickets. I LOVE DANCING. Even on a broken leg.

Tomorrow i do more school shows, then rehearse for my film class, then fly to edmonton.

To see if she liked my flowers.

The Golden Hymen

So... we were doing a high school show in Port Hardy. The "pillars" scene is where two audience members finish your sentence when prompted, and you work it into the scene. The scene was about a Zambonie. I started a line, "I think I broke..." and the teenage girl finished the sentence for me, "My Hymen."

Yes, the kids all laughed, as did the teachers, and we just rolled with it. "So, this is your first time driving a Zamboni?" without, I hope, crossing any line.

In the same day, I was doing an "Arms" scene where the gym teacher stood behind me to supply my arms.. and he pinched my ass. Like really pinched it. And in the Curling scene which we did as "Moving Bodies" the girl opperating Taz definitely was moving his arm in a masturbatory manner as Ted called, "Hard! Hurry Hard!"

Ah, the children. That's who we do it for.

And I got offered a part in the show I auditioned for 3 times. But not the one I wanted. I'll be playing Bass. I'm really looking forward to it. I get to learn Upright Bass, and they'll probably rent one for me for the next few months before the gig starts. It's nice to have some work lined up. Now I'm good until mid July and will have time off to go to my brothers wedding. In the mean time, I got into a weekly film class which I'm looking forward to. And things are getting very exciting with the improv show I'm working on, though I can't share any info just yet.

The story of the Hymen made its way around facebook, it's now known as the story of the golden hymen.

Party Port Hardy

I am sitting in a book/craft/internet cafe in Port Hardy in NW BC. We're staying at a delightful place right on the water in Hardy's competitor Port McNeill. For the last 2 nights I've had a room to myself which is a treat on a TYA tour!

I stayed at some friends in Chemainus who have very cute twin girls. They told me that the girls said a prayer for me to, "be able to walk, like Rebecca" Rebecca has cerebral palsy. They are so sweet.

I guess it worked because the next day I walked out along the boardwalk outside my room. WALKED. On my walking cast. I didn't even realize I'd left the crutches in my room. Every day I feel stronger and stronger. I feel like I almost have full use of my leg now. Although when I see someone jump, or run, or play basketball like my co-workers do before each show, I realize I still have a ways to go.

In the shows, I referee. I introduce the show and bring out the players. I always explain my foot off the top. I crutch around and take part in most of the scenes. Arms Expert. Pillars. And I play a lot of kids.

We have 2 more shows tomorrow, nothing friday, a public show on Saturday night and a driving day on Sunday. I sleep so much. And I didn't bring my laptop. Trying to get a little work done in between, but mostly resting, stretching, and thinking.

Lots and lots of thinking.

I'm Walkin

I'm walking.

I had my first physio appointment yesterday. It was so good! he couldn't believe that I was actually sleeping with the walking cast on. he said, "It's for walking". I explained my schedule to him, leaving for tour tomorrow to do improv shows in school gymnasiums, then doing a physically demanding comedy after that. He gave me some great exercises I can do on the road. I stood. I stretched my leg. I stood up and sat down. I rode the bike. He said I can swim. In general I was being too soft on myself. It's like my thought when I broke it in the first place. If I had've been pointing straight down the hill it wouldn't have happened. My leg broke because I was being a pussy!

Before physio, I was at sushi with my brother telling all the news from my trip to calgary. The waiter walked into my leg and it twisted. I yelled, "FUCK!" and then realized everyone was looking at me.

On Wednesday, after the audition I tool the painkillers for the first time. Not for my leg. But they helped.

But now I don't need them, though I still miss her so much.

I am conceiving a plan to get my girlfriend back.

By letting go.

And walking away.

For now.

Where do I go from here?

cast off

So, on Sunday I flew to Calgary. And since then everything changed.

My old cast was cut off my leg with an electric saw. Then the clippers in the photo. I got a swanky new walking cast that I have to pay for later.

Then I drove to Edmonton to see my girlfriend.

I left in the morning. Alone.

Then I had tea with Keith Johnstone and heard some surprising news.

Came home trying to put the pieces back together.

Saw a play later, "PIG" where girls perform for a traveling tent show and then get cut up for meat. By a guy with an electric saw.

Tomorrow morning I have a callback for the musical.

And after that I will be wondering... where do I go from here?

the path to recovery

When you go for acupuncture, at least the place I went, you have to fill out an extensive form as to every minor ailment you have and other random questions. One of them asks "Which of these emotions do you feel in a day? Joy, Anxiety, Grief, Anger, Fear, Sadness" etc.... I don't understand why that is important, and furthermore what is normal? I checked all of them.

I immediately went into a deep meditative state, and after about 10 minutes, I felt a rush of energy and opened my eyes. I tried to move my hand and couldn't. She said that was normal, to feel 'pinned down'.

I've been twice now, and I really like it. I feel aligned. Later in the day my ankle aches where its broken, but overall I think it's helping.

I have gotten really good on my one leg. I can turn 360 degrees just by manipulating my toes. I'm sure that will come in handy sometime. I am also finding new uses for the crutches. I swing open doors, and then jam my crutch in like a door stopper. I can also move sideways.

The other day this woman said to me, "I feel your pain" I noticed she was walking on a sort of cast. I asked if it was an 'air cast' she didn't really know. What disturbed me was that she was moving slower than I was. I can get a good pace going with these puppies, but she was moving at a snail's pace. I always kind of assumed that when I could put weight on it that I would limp around pretty good, but I now realize that 'putting weight on it' is the small beginnings of a still longer journey of training my body to walk. My friend Veena said that when she had knee surgery, they told her never to limp, because the body learns to move like that and everything goes out of balance. You must try to walk normally with equal weight, but ever so slowly.

I am nervous about beginning work next week. I go to Vancouver Island a week today to begin 3 weeks of school improv shows. I a short tour in the fall... a teacher would say "Put your hands together for Vancouver TheatreSports League!" And we would all run out of the equipment room and runa round the gym before landing in front of our table. Now the other will run and I will slowly hobble out behind them. And some of these gyms are huge.

I fly to Calgary this morning to get more x-rays, pick up my car, visit my girlfriend in Edmonton, and get a new cast. The one I can start putting weight on. And drive the 11 hours back to Vancouver.

Achille's Heel

Just got in the door. Up 35 stairs and home. Up 4 flights of 7 and down one more flight of 7.

Yesterday morning, when I left the house to have the first rehearsal for this gig (a staged reading of Homer's 'The Iliad' produced by The Onassis Foundation from New York) I slid down (and up) the 35 stairs on my ass, with my guitar in one hand and my crutches in the other.

The two other musicians who played were unbelievable. They made it all sound amazing. Playing with such talented actors was a rush and a lesson!

The day before I did laundry and went up and down the 35 once to put in the laundry, again cuz I forgot to bring change, again to change the load, once to go to breakfast, and again to carry the rest upstairs.

Today, after buying 23 peanut butter daisies for my wonderful girlfriend who's rehearsing in Edmonton, I printed these forms about getting paid as an 'alien' and went to the theatre downtown. We rehearsed til 3:45 and began at 7pm

We played one song, 2 chords, for 30 minutes before the actors came in. The reading went really well.

The reception was nice. I realized that one cannot walk with a glass of wine whilst on crutches...

I was talking to these two women, who I thought might have been connected to our benefactors. They loved the show and loved the music, "I just wanted to close my eyes and go there..." Then I realized it was because they thought I was from New York. "It all seemed very New York, you know? nothing like that happens here..." I wanted to say, "It just did."

And we drove home, and I hopped up 35 steps to come home.

Tomorrow, acupuncture.

things and stairs

Ok.

Is it a phenomenon that you sweat more with a broken limb? Yes, showers are out of the question, but I bathe thouroughly, and yet...

I'll have to look into that...

THINGS YOU CAN'T DO WITH A BROKEN LEG
go grocery shopping
wear skinny jeans
dance
itch your foot
hot tub
cross your legs
Ski

Q to Q went good today, people seemed to like my sound design, which made me happy, cuz its a new thing for me. I had to operate the sound as well from the booth which is up a narrow staircase, then up again a 3 step ladder. The ladder looked much bigger than 3 steps. I actually had to lift myself up jumping onto each step on my right leg and holding on to the railing. Once I got up there, after 2 cups of coffee...

Stairs are suddenly my enemy. They used to be an inconvenience. Now they taunt me.

My place is on the 3rd floor, and once you get inside, you go DOWN 5 more steps. What once was the piece de resistance when someone came over, "Oooooh... they go down.....cool!" now seems like natures cruel joke.

There is an art to getting around my place. I abandon the crutches at the door and hop. After 11pm, the hop must change to a lighter hop. It's mostly toes. And you must keep your weight perfectly distributed over the one good leg. Little light hops.

Outside I've perfected the long-stride-crutch-step. With a little hop with the right foot, I actually gain a little air before the crutches touch the ground. And with a little push you get the slightest air before your foot reaches down again. It works great going downhill. It's pretty impressive. I totally passed an old lady with a stroller today.

Why has the science behind crutches not changed since Tiny Tim. Has NO ONE thought of a better way? Like a tiny hovering skateboard? Or a scooter that you lean your knee on?

Sometimes I think that you never see people with crutches because its kind of humiliating. You feel like you're from the dark ages. I could easily stay at home and watch movies all day.

But fuck that.

Break a Leg

So, today I had my first audition since before January 6. For The Buddy Holly Story. I was to bring a guitar, banjo, and sheet music. As soon as I got back to town I started thinking how this was going to happen. The audition was likely going to be on the third floor. How was I going to haul this stuff down the 3 floors of my place, to Granville Island and up three more floors?
I figured I would have to ask someone to come with me and be my handicap roadie.
I asked my singing coach. She was going to meet me there at 2:00, and play for me, but, this morning I suddenly felt that I had to do this myself. I called her in the morning she thought that was a great idea. I called Kelly to come with me and help me with my gear and she said she would too... then I got a call from Tom, who I borrowed the banjo from, who had an audition 10 minutes before mine. He carried all the instruments, I paid for the cab.
The stairs were small.
The audition was great.
I sang I'm Walkin.

Evening went to 'papertech' for the show I'm Sound Designing. Ivanov.
Q to Q tomorrow.

On Tuesday while I was flying home from Edmonton, I got talking to this guy Norman or something, a real estate agent. He had met some famous director, and asked him, "You know when you meet actors and they're kind of.... strange? Why are actors so strange?" And the director told him, "Think of the rejection, the constant rejection... That's got to do something to you."


So true, I said. So true!

The Entertainer

The Hospital in Invermere

I rode to the hospital and sure enough, I'd broken my lateral malleolus. The fibula just above the ankle bone. Right in two. Luckily it's a clean break and probably won't need surgery. I never really did feel any pain. Except when it moved of course. The doctor asked me if I wanted anything for the pain.

"Well... what do you got?"

"I can't give you the good stuff."

"Then i'm fine."

I was in a real good mood anyway. It was great to see the weird procession of BC Interior illnesses come through. An old man waiting at the front with a mask on. When he finally came in (he was wearing the mask cuz he had a cough) he told the doctor how the pain in his shoulder had moved to the other side and he had to work the farm before two weeks were up, he just had to. Another farmer had caught his hand in an engine and tore all the skin off. An old lady came through and had to use the bathroom, but was afraid when she walked in front of me that I would be able to see up the back of her gown. The nurse held it shut as they hobbled into the bathroom. And then there was a young girl who'd got a sparkle in her eye.

Ryan's Van died when he went home to get our cell phones. My uncle drove him and Michelle to the hospital to get my keys then back to the cabin, then they came and picked me up.

With my plans for the ski trip out the window, I eventually abandoned my car at the cabin and came back to Calgary to get more X-rays and rest at my parents place.

The Beginning

Today as I was sitting in the very special seating on the bus for very special people, I thought I might start a blog of my adventures as a one legged man, eking out a living as an actor in Vancouver.

Wednesday, January 6, I was skiing at Panorama resort in the Kootenays, with my brother, to warm up for a ski weekend in Revelstoke with our 10 cousins. On the last run of the day, I broke my leg.

we were coming down the 'extreme dream zone' and I had a blister on my right toe. I was navigating down the moguls, through the trees, favoring my left leg to save my poor blistery baby toe.

In retrospect this all seemed to happen in slow motion, but really, it probably wasn't as slow as it seemed. i came around the corner and caught an edge. my body was flung in the opposite direction and I remember thinking my knee might give out.

Suddenly I heard (heard from the inside of my body) a "POP" and I came to a stop. I didn't fall. It didn't hurt.

Bascially from there, my brother carrying my skis, I first slid on my ass, then tried one ski, then back to ass, then on two skis down a trail, and down the last half under the 'champagne chair' (see map)

When I got to the top of the bottom lift, I was done. I rode the "Sled of Shame" to the first aid hut, where they helped me take of my boot. "oh, there's definitely something wrong with it"

"Oh you're an actor? Have I seen you in anything?"

"Well... I do mostly theatre... and improv... I did one film but that was..."

She'd lost interest.

"What level are you? beginner?"

pause

"Intermediate?"

pause

"Advanced? Expert?"

"Advanced"

Ryan says, "Advanced?? You're expert!"

I looked at my leg.

"Obviously not."