"Our Town, Our Table" - A Workshop

Never have I ever worked on a piece like this. In development for nearly 18 months, I am the "last-man-standing" from the earliest days of sitting around a table with a very silly idea, and this week, 11 actors we've collected along the way have poured their hearts, battle scars, war stories, tales of love and humor and loss, in to this beautiful new American play, Our Town, Our Table by Kirsten Gunther, conceived with Jack Cummings of the Transport Group. 

 

It has been one of the greatest collaborative experiences of my life. The stories, the humanity, the problem solving, the laughter, the tears. An inexplicable bond formed across time and shared in a sparse space equipped with nothing but our words, memories, imaginations, and 11 humble props. 

 

To speak of the content of this project would be to pepper it with spoilers, but suffice it to say it it "about" Thornton Wilder's Our Town, but about so much more. What we sacrifice for a life in the theatre. Who we met along the way. What is replaceable. What is ephemeral. What is eternal. And how to savor and cherish "every every minute" on stage and on earth. 

 

Here's to the world seeing it manifest.  

 

"The Bench Scene" from CAROUSEL for The Transport Group

Ah, the healing and transcendent power of music, theatre, true friendship and community.

Thank you Transport Group for the chance to return to Julie Jordan and the ‘Bench Scene’ after over a decade, and to share the experience with the huge-hearted genius pal that is Tally Sessions and a 30 piece, first-rate orchestra conducted by Joey Chancey.

It was a gift.

You know a theatre company is special when every single artist on stage donates their time and talent to support it. EVERY. SINGLE. ARTIST. May the Transport Group long continue to make great American theatre.

📷: @graceecopeland

Hello Again and again and again

 When I arrived on the “shores” of New York City in the winter of 2011 I was what can only be described as a “total disaster human—” faking adulthood and literally living on Tyne Daly’s sofa. Don’t get me wrong— there are worse places to be lost, heartbroken, poorly dressed, couch-surfing and unfamiliar with such adult concepts as a credit score, the cost of milk, or how to get a mobile telephone despite being twenty-six years old and having had, prior to this moment, modest artistic success in London.

I feel like we’ve all been there: at the burnt out cigarette butt of a chapter of our lives, wondering if we’ll make it through until morning.

I’d arrived in America the previous year in need of a resurrection, (and absolutely acknowledge that I was privileged enough to be able to “start in the middle” of this circus called showbiz—with representation and some British experience under my hideous and poorly fitting belt—) and began auditioning. I didn’t know where the hell I was because I was managing to get lost (on a grid system—a grid system!), and, despite every effort to sabotage my life and reputation, I managed to book a few jobs as I wandered around North America zombie-sobbing between high notes.  

It was during the era of my life that I met Jack Cummings and auditioned for Michael John LaChiusa’s masterwork, Hello Again.

And when I say I auditioned? I mean I hurricaned into Whatever Studios on Somewhere Street, New York, New York, holding 47-ish pages of sides and music as the team (with incredible actor, TG alum, and high school classmate, Nick Westrate reading) watched me give them every. single. female-identifying. character. in. the. play.  
With (sensible) outfit changes.
And choices…
It was the second-most preposterous audition* I’d ever offered (to date**), and I was certain after an hour or so of insanity, I had solidified my reputation as a genuine eccentric.

 But by the end of the day I’d received what I would soon come to learn was a characteristic email from Jack Cummings III— effervescent, inspired, hilarious and perhaps most important for me at that moment in time: galvanizing. Someone had seen me in all my eccentricity and wanted me to be a part of something. Something deep and rich and strange and beautiful. And to be a part of it with a collection of human beings so talented, so singular, so epic in their giftedness and generosity, that they didn’t mind That Weirdo From London tagging along, singing “Tom” in my underpants, and giving me my first New York City family right when I needed it the most.

A few weeks later I was introducing myself to those glorious artists. They were Nikka Lanzarone, Max VonEssen, Elizabeth Stanley, Bob Lenzi, Bob Stillman, Blake Daniel, Jonathan Hammond, Rachel Bay Jones, and Alan Campbell— and that was just the cast. Every Edison lightbulb, every corset, stage manager, musical arrangement, and design, the team was a crucible of talent and the World of the Theatre I longed to be a part of. Before I knew it I taking my clothes off in a loft (with consent! with consent!) in the middle of SoHo, singing the most glorious music one can imagine, learning the true meaning of platonic intimacy and oh, that’s right: getting my Equity card.

We made memories that included Nikka and Cody Richard Renard being stuck in a service elevator, Alan Campbell graciously buying me lunch on the first day of rehearsal when my British debit card was rejected from a local diner, a midnight photo call, 3-am tech-rehearsal taxi rides home with Elizabeth Stanley, pretend-drowning on the Titanic, engaging in simulated acts of intimacy inches from the audience, the presence of a pet parrot, quick changes more impressive than NATO negotiations, the welcoming of members of the original 1995 cast at Lincoln Center; not to mention endless laughter, joy, belting, tears, pathos, sorrow, and community.

All for $245 a week.
All of it shared… with human beings that started as strangers.

[THE WHORE]
You
You
Hey there
Where you goin’ soldier?
 
[THE SOLDIER]
Who me?

 
Isn’t that the miracle of the theatre? 

The people. The chance meetings. The new arrivals to our day-to-day that deeply and irrevocably touch our lives for a moment, then poof: off it all goes into the ephemera like so much mist. Artists open their chest cavities to these emotional foreigners, and we sew them up just as deftly once the curtain has fallen.
10 years later the cast is still on a text thread. Some of those cast members and creatives are some of the closest relationships I have enjoyed in my adult life on and off stage. The group has shared it all from birthdays to silly inside jokes to huge career and life milestones.

And really, at the end of the day, at the end of all of this, isn’t that the medicine we all craved so desperately during the darkest days of our quarantines? The prescription we still crave: to bear witness, to be seen, to share intimacies, to sing in harmony, to create and collaborate.
To be together.
And to be changed because of that togetherness.

Back in the days of Hello Again, I had so much to prove. Mostly to myself.
Because I didn't realize that the only requirement was to simply Be. We are all worthy of love and belonging because we are human, and for no other reason. And there I was—like so many of us have been and will be: emotionally poverty-stricken and in the wrong outfit. But a group of strangers took me in and said Hello. Again and again and again. And when human beings do that for one another it is a transformative, deeply miraculous thing. 

These days we are starting to gather and greet one another in person once more. We meet through face coverings and vaccine screenings, scarred from the unutterable experience of what we have all been through collectively, but also, not truly shared.

I picture The Whore and The Soldier meeting by the Hudson River now. Masked. Broken. But alive at the end of 2021, and starving for connection.
It rings differently now:

[THE WHORE]  
Look here
Don’t you know my face?

[THE SOLDIER]
No

[THE WHORE]
You there
Come and tell your sweetheart
Where you’ve been
It doesn’t matter
Hello again…

 

______________________________________________________________________


* The first most preposterous audition is a now-infamous story of me being late for an audition for Terrence McNally’s Master Class at the Kennedy Center because I accidentally locked myself in the utility closet. Incidentally, I booked the job and the play transferred to Broadway. Because sometimes life is ridiculous.
** At least by 2010— I’m pretty sure Rachel Hoffman can attest I’ve been a huge weirdo in audition rooms since this story…

The Impossible Dream

I came to know of and work with The Transport Group at the beginning of 2011 as a cast member of their immersive production of Michael John LaChiusa’s Hello Again—directed by Jack Cummings. It was my first job in New York.

When Jack gives me another chance to write for this newsletter, perhaps I will tell you all about rehearsing this play above the old (sadly now closed) Pearl River in SoHo, the parrot that lived there named Rudy, and the seemingly centuries-old elevator that Nikka Lanzarone (who played The Whore) was constantly getting trapped in. I can tell tales of our 3am tech rehearsals lit by the late night street lights of our beloved New York City.

I can also recount with vivid detail my epic hours-long audition for the project in which I read and sang for every.single.female.character. in the play, and yes, sure, brought little props and different outfits for each (and perhaps more remarkably, that everyone just sort of let me do that…)

I can recount the company’s first publicity photo session filled with a little bit of nudity and a whole lot of laughter, and, I, newly arrived in New York City, wore not much more than Bob Stillman’s arms.

Ultimately I was honored to play the Young Wife amidst a cast of some of our most gifted singing actors—as brilliant as they were brave, and it’s been a joy to see them skyrocket personally and professionally. It has been equally thrilling to still be on the same text thread with all of them 10 years later. It is a testament to the ferociously devoted companies The Transport Group builds, but also to the indescribably powerful bonds the theatre fosters; building families out of an aggregate of strangers.


But I am not going to write about those wonderful memories.

Today I am going to write about a memory emblazoned permanently on my mind as perhaps one of the greatest theatrical moments of my life. A small moment. A moment in which I did very little. Being an actor can be virtuosic, but just like in life, sometimes the magic happens in the silences.

On December 18 2017, I was participating in a benefit concert of Man of La Mancha for The Transport Group— a blinding collection of Broadway’s finest had been lined up to share the leading and supporting roles, and to sing every note of the score with a full orchestra.I was assigned some lovely moments that evening to offer my take on Aldonza — the whore Don Quixote perceives to be not only an angel, but his true love.

None of those moments was more precious to me than the scene leading into the finale of Act 1— the anthem of the evening and delivering the message of the play itself. I spoke a few words, I looked Jason’s Quixote in the eyes, and then? I listened. I bore witness to Jason Danieley singing “The Impossible Dream,” and it forever, alchemically, changed me.


At this time in my life I was rumbling with a crushing experience with a chronic illness (that I have now, gratefully, recovered from and cured). I didn’t know how to operate in the world, I didn’t know what it meant to be well— what kind of healing to ask the Universe for.

Jason (a genius I’ve respected for decades and a friend I’d made my Carnegie Hall debut with a few years before), was facing his own personal “windmills” that frankly, aren’t my stories to write about.

Both in rehearsal earlier that day, and backstage before the scene, we didn’t speak of any of it. We didn’t know the details of one anothers’ struggles exactly, nor do I believe we needed to. But as we stood in the wings preparing to walk out together I felt something connect us—like a chord of light wrapped gently around each of our hearts, not tugging, not forceful in any way, just joined. Anyone who has ever been in the theatre will tell you: there is no breaking-open of the heart quite like those moments silently shared in the hush of the wings.


We strode out and began the scene. Eyes locked, and unadorned. I had been in hiding with so many people in my life during that time, yet I felt no need to “hide” from Jason, no need to protect myself or preserve anything for my dignity. Our actor-selves just asked one another a question:

    “What have you been through?”

Some questions are medicinal, just in their being asked. “What have you been through” is prime among them. It’s transformational to be in the presence of another human being with both a willingness and a capacity to hold space for the truth of another. Even while stuck in the dense mud of our own realities, even as our bodies are “scorned and covered with scars,” may we all endeavor to be the kind of person who says:

     “Though I may not see this experience of life through the same set of eyes, I see you. I hold your feelings, fears, vulnerabilities and recognize our common humanity. I take your concerns to heart. And in remaining here with you for this moment, we are both transformed.”

That was what happened to and for me when I stood beside Jason as he sang “The Impossible Dream.” It is what happens when songs are really prayers.

Prior to the COVID-19 pandemic I don’t know that the world at large really knew how to listen. Perhaps it didn’t wish to. I am not immune—it is terrifying to really listen—and perhaps part of that culture is what made me ill, and it has only been in this silence of quarantine that I have had a chance to heal. Who knows? After this year I don’t think I know much for certain anymore.

But what I do know is that hurriedness is so entrenched in the ways that we communicate, that when something significant is shared between people it's often not given the proper time to breathe. To settle. To marinate, and ultimately absorb.

What would it be like if we were to normalize long pauses, deep breaths, and unencumbered gazes filled with compassion and without expectation?
What if in our scenes, and pauses, and songs-as-prayers, we could, with our creations, push through the unfathomable cracks, the great gully-trenches and dried-up canyons of every broken heart? And what if in those songs the lyrics were:

“And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will be peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest…”

What if in the making of art we could strive, with all of ourselves, to stand for something good? To tell the truth. To fight evils. And what if our greatest glory isn’t in the winning, but in the striving?

I don’t think that is an Impossible Dream.
Because we do it in the theatre.
When we are brave.
And skilled.
And, as I was that night with Jason, sometimes when we are just so broken open by life’s trials, that we cannot help but listen and get lucky.

The song ended.
The experience of it left me trembling.
Jason turned, and extended his hand to me.
It was a gesture of something shared.
We walked off stage arm in arm.



May we all strive, dear friends— with “our last ounce of courage.”

"The Impossible Dream"

Last night I performed in a concert version of Man of La Mancha at Merkin Hall in Manhattan for The Transport Group. It was one of the most moving nights of theatre I have ever participated in and among my 'Top Five New York City memories.'

I was fortunate enough to be tasked with Aldonza's big emotional scenes at the finale of the piece but also partnered with longtime friend, the golden-throated Jason Danieley in the "Impossible Dream" scene at the finale of Act 1.

Quixote says:

"Love not what thou art, only what thou may become.
Do not pursue pleasure...
or thou mayest have the misfortune to overtake it.
Look always forward.
In last year's nests...
there are no birds this year.
Be just to all men, courteous to all women.
Live in the vision...
of the one for whom great deeds are done.."

As the scene progressed, it became abundantly clear that Don Quixote's idealism and vision of fighting for a better world was painfully relevant and poignant in a way none of us participants were prepared for. Jason and I came prepared to embody a scene, not knowing we would be embodying a philosophy for our age—lifting the audience to a higher, more hopeful place.

The scene began, and with it, the music.

To dream the impossible dream,
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go;
To right the un-rightable wrong.

To love, pure and chaste, from afar,
To try, when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star!

This is my Quest to follow that star,
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far,
To fight for the right
Without question or pause,
To be willing to march into hell
For a heavenly cause!

And I know, if I'll only be true
To this glorious Quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest.

And the world will be better for this,
That one man scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,
To reach the unreachable stars.”

Jason singing with his glorious voice, that song, with those lyrics accompanied by a full orchestra, in this moment in history? All with the emotional aid of our friendship and connected “eyeballs”... it was one of the greatest artistic moments of my life thus far.
I will never, in all my life, forget it.

Thank you, dear dear Jason, and Jack Cummings III for giving it to us.


Highlights from the entire spine-chilling evening are captured here:

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt - A Hello Again Thread

"If I've told you ONCE Bob Lenzi I've told you a THOUSAND TIMES! MacRAE!"

So there is this thing we do. 

The cast (and creatives) of Hello Again fell in love. 
That we knew. 
That happens when you take your clothes off and take naked photos for the poster five minutes after you meet one another.
We reunite all the time-- for the 12th of May (a significant date in the play for those of you who do not know), the holidays (see our Easter "Hello Again Jesus!" party), to see The Muppet Movie. You know-- like normals. 

But there is this thing we do...

We, and I really do mean ALL of us, continue to write emails to one another-- and I do not just mean the odd "Happy Birthday Whoever" emails but LONG (sometimes over 60 messages long) email chains. 
About any ol' thing. 
I love a healthy Hello Again email chain. 
Just your run-of-the-mill, Homeric-long-form-poem-esque, epic Hello Again email chain.

So: once upon a time, a very very healthy (read: strooooong) debate began among us regarding the Billy Bigelows of original John Raitt and film version Gordon MacRae (and obviously this Julie Jordan had quiiiiite a bit to say about it thankyouverymuch). It was legendary--as all good Hello Again  conversations seem to be.

Below, is the MacRae vs. Raitt Hello Again  email chain.

En. JOY.

____________________________________

From: Jack Cummings III

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

The controversial court case continues--check this out:

Notice this is #3 while #4 is...I rest my case.

http://playbill.com/news/article/165106-THE-SCREENING-ROOM-A-Look-Back-at-Carousel-On-Its-67th-Broadway-Anniversary/pg3

--

Jack Cummings III

Artistic Director

Transport Group Theatre Co.

____________________________________

From: Bob Lenzi

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

 

 Well take a peak at #8 when you have the chance.  At the 7:25 mark, I believe the subtext is "Alright all you ignorant MacRae loving shits.  Listen to what I'm about to do live, no sissy film sets with vocal dubbing.  MacRae could never dream of the vocal brilliance I am about to display.  Enjoy my extra B-flat bitches..."

______________________________________

From: Bob Stillman

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

So, MacRae gets to sing all of "If I Loved You," plus the reprise,"in #3, and Raitt gets his verse cut out of #4, and you're making comparisons?

______________________________________

From: Chris F

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

Don't be silly, Jack.  John Raitt.  End of story.

______________________________________

From: Alan Campbell

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

Make it stop!

______________________________________

From: Jonathan Hammond

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

Jack.

You have broken our sacred Playbill rule.

Hi all!

Xxx

______________________________________

From: Chris H

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt
 
Well, if we're talking numbers...

Google Search:

Gordon MacRae - 686,000

John Raitt - 8,620,000 

______________________________________

From: Chris F

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

 

Thank you, Chris.  I always could rely on you.

______________________________________

From: Alan Campbell

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

Wow. Haberl gets in the weeds with that one!


______________________________________

From: Donald Butchko, Stage Manager

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

...is it too late to vote for Michael Hayden?

______________________________________

From: Jack Cummings III

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

Sure--that was such a robustly sung performance--and by robust I mean...not.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

The cuts were decided upon based on quality.

No further questions your honor.

Bam!

End of story!? Oh hell to the no Fenwick!
Not in a million years so sit back down in that wheelchair Blanche!

Nice made up figures Haberl--why don't you run along and play with your Fischer Price airport while we settle this.

Look @ Lenzi trying to exert authority--how droll...how VERY droll. Don't you have some cheeks you need to rouge LENZI!!??

Je regrette rien.

______________________________________

From: Alexandra Silber

Subject: Re: MacRae vs. Raitt

Gah!!

I leave you children alone

For 2 MINUTES!!! 

Look. Raitt had a B-flat. It did rock. He was a beast and the original and could sing Verdi of you asked him to. 

MacRae was so fucking sexy-- like  Christian Bale french kissing you with a mouthful of Scotch sexy--and crooned like a psychopath. 

I want you to know that I have KNOWN some Billy Bigelows in my time... Believe. You. Me. 

These two were both amazeballs. 

My overall verdict?

  Rait for My Boy Bill and the money note 

  MacRae for My Little Girl

Done. 

And Donald...? If you mention Michael Hayden again we are finished. 

I say one blew it high, the other blew it low...for many and many a long long day. 

Over and out.

______________________________________

From: Jack Cummings III

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

Silber in da' house y'all! Heeeeeeaaaay!

______________________________________

From: Alexandra Silber
Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt
 

Oh my god did I silence the crowd...?

______________________________________

From: Nikka Lanzarone

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

You did just basically drop the microphone and walk away...

______________________________________

From: Bob Stillman

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

Put it this way, Al: if this thread were an air mattress, it'd be punctured. 

BAM!

______________________________________

From: Donald Butchko

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

I want to frame this.  or perhaps stitch it into a sampler?

______________________________________

From: Jack Cummings III

Subject: MacRae vs. Raitt

End Scene. 

"Hello Again Jesus!"

Hellllloooooo Again Jesus!

Sometime El Stans and Al Silbs have to co-host an Easter party.
A two-part Easter party.
Sometimes the cast of Hello again has to reunite just because. 
Part One: at chez El Stans.
The party's name? HELLO AGAIN JESUS.
That's right.
Part Two: at chez Al Silbs.
titled: THE SECOND COMING OVER.

There was glorious food, laughter, company and conversation. There were games, a quiz (with dingy bells!), nestled and nuzzled together in the first flushes of Spring.

What better what to say Helloooooo Again?

What goes around comes around...

... indeed. There are many nebulous themes in Hello Again, but if we glean anything at all, that one is certain. And like everything, al things must end, it only means new beginnings, and indeed, the ephemeral nature of the theatre is what in fact provides it's poignancy... Farewell Hello Again. Thank you to everyone who made the experience of my New York debut possible. Life-long friendships were established. The overcoming of challenging personal and artistic obstacles. We sang in our underwear. We did ..."other things..." On tables and things. We got nominated for awards. For a lot of awards. We won some of those awards. (And heck, I even got my Equity card...a touch on the tardy side mind you, but I got it...)

So farewell lovely group. "I'm sure we'll be saying hello again..."


Let us just finish with a quote from the wonderful creative mastermind, Michael John LaChiusa himself:

"This cast of Hello Again is one of the most remarkable ensembles I've ever seen onstage-- and I've had the privilege of assembling some pretty remarkable casts over the years for my shows, including the original production of Hello Again...

"Over and over again, for the last month, people have been writing to me and repeating the same thing 'this restored my faith in theatre-going.' It's sort of cliché, of course, as a sentiment and the compliment. But I sense something more: there's a hunger out there for what TG provides with Hello Again. There's a sadness in knowing that people are hungry, of course-- but also a great joy in being responsible for providing a little nourishment in the desert. You've done just that..."

I stole Rebecca Luker's toothpaste...

Rebecca Luker: actress, soprano and flouride benefactor extraordinaire...

I did.
I did.
And then I confessed.
And she let me keep it.

[*travel back in time music*]

[At rise: Hello Again post show bustle. The entire show Rebecca and her über incredible husband Danny Burstein have been sitting just beside the central mirror-- starring straight into my freakin' face. I must hasten to add however, that in contrast to the ridiculous line-up from the McNally tribute concert the previous night, this moment seems over-come-able compared to bowing between Edie Falco and Roger Reese, and being in the mere presence of THE Angela Lansbury...but still, this is Rebecca Luker and I have loved her for years and she made me publicly weep when we shared a stage at Lincoln Center in January, and yes, OKAY, I broke The Secret Garden cassette. Fact. Plus this moment might be okay if I didn't have a guilty conscience {see title!}...]

Rebecca: Alexandra? Hi! Do you remember me?

Inner monologue: Do I remember you? Do I remember her?! Um. Well gosh how do I say this? Why yes, yes I do. I can’t believe I was in the same room as, let alone the same concert as, let alone bowed next to-- you— I broke The Secret Garden cassette lady. I broke it. You were the standard of soprano that formulated my entire youth. I listened to you with my friends on my bunk-bed at summer camp. [incredulous scoffing noises] Do I freakin' remember you? Puh-lease. I can’t believe you remember me. And furthermore, just so we're clear, just so everything is out on the table: I stole your toothpaste. That’s right. I viciously stole the toothpaste I asked to borrow just so I could nonchalantly speak to you for a millisecond in the Lincoln Center dressing rooms. I am a thief. A dirty, pathetic, childish, star-struck thief with incredibly clean teeth.

Real dialogue:

Rebecca: [continued, she is sort of staring at me now, willing me to respond] ...from Lincoln Center?
Al: [fake nonchalance. Don't give away your crazy Al!] Yes, Rebecca, of course. So nice to see you…
R: Well done--You were wonderful tonight.

[I think for a moment that I might need respiratory assistance.]

A: Thank you so much.
R: And the piece. The performances. The music! My goodness the music I want to sing every single song in this sh--
A: --I STOLE YOUR TOOTHPASTE.

[there is a terrible moment here where she stares harder at me and I stare hard back. As if, in doing so, we can both hope, we may will, we can possibly pretend that last little outburst just did not happen. But lest we forget that I am in this story, we know that it cannot end there. We know, all too well, that it is simply in my nature to just make things far, far worse...]

A: AND I AM SO SORRY.
R: ...what?
A: I AM SORRY. I stole it and it wasn't even totally an accident.
R: What are you talking about?
A: Plus IT WAS DELICIOUS.
R: Really? [she smiles]
A: And I know I came in and asked for toothpaste and you let me take it but! but! but you said you would come back for it and although you didn’t, [huge sigh] I didn’t exactly remind you. [There. Said it.]
R: [she pauses, eyebrows cocked, considering me] ...Are you being serious?
A: [unfortunately, I am] Yes.
R: Truly?
A: It is in my dressing room right now, let me go get it for you.
R: Darlin’… [she is amused and starts to laugh in the most charming way, the manner of a true lady] you know what? You can just go ahead and keep it. [A lady: see what I am saying?]
A: Really?
R: Yes, seriously.
A: Um… thank you.
R: Gosh. You are so funny [she laughs, it is sweet] and a bit odd.
A: Thank you. And odd, yes, [hands up] guilty!
R: And you were wonderful in the show. I mean your voice...
A: [inner crazy 11-year-old-squeal] Coming from you… that means the world...

It does.
Words cannot describe how much it does.
We hug.
And say goodbye.
And I just brushed my teeth and frankly my teeth now feel as pure as Rebecca Luker's very own crystalline voice, and as clean as my conscience.

"Tom"

"Tom" from Hello Again.

Featuring images of Nikka Lanzarone as The Whore and Bob Stillman as The Husband by Sarah Ackerman and Carol Rosegg from the 2011 Off Broadway Revival of Michael John LaChiusa's Hello Again.

Adaumbelle's Quest Interview

I had the pleasure of doing a really fun interview with Adam Rothenberg of Adaumbelle's Quest answering important questions about Hello Again, the creative process, and perhaps most importantly, Hungover Owls and Superman versus Wonderwoman.
Enjoy!

Playing House with The Young Wife

I'd preface it... but... well... just watch it.





Notes:


1. Marc Kudisch is one of the only people I allow to call me Alex because he made a very good case and got special permission. Details about "Al" preference here.


2. I need to mention that "first kiss" James Banks *did* travel to Nepal like a bazillion times and set up incredible health programs there, but is still properly in medical school in Cincinnati.


3. Kenn Mann story totally true and the Christmas card I mention can be found here.


4. The Gezentites are real and basically we are gonna be famous.

Hello Again

This is all a little tardy, but I am so thrilled to announce my upcoming project.

Starting 4 March 2011, I will be playing The Young Wife in The Transport Group's exciting new New York revival of Michael John LaChiusa's Hello Again-- the first New York City production since the original in 1993. This production will feature new orchestrations by Mary-Mitchell Campbell (Company) and will be staged non-traditionally in a raw space in SoHo (New York SoHo, not to be confused with London's Soho) by Drama Desk nominee and Transport Group Artistic Director Jack Cummings III.  

Hello Again is a ground-breaking piece of theatre with music, lyrics and book by the Michael John LaChiusa suggested by the 1897 play La Ronde (also titled Reigen) by Arthur Schnitzler (who, amusingly, was a close friend of Sigmund Freud's, thus, possibly inspiring the psychological exploration of sex and aaaaaall it's intricacies). Hello Again focuses on a series of love affairs among twenty characters, in ten scenes, during the ten different decades of the 20th century-- enabling it to explore and address the nature of love, relationships and sex throughout that 100 year period with all of it's varying limitations, longings, hardships and complications.

Here is what the press blurb says:

"Hi. So you're from Philly? Oh. Sorry if my hands are cold."

"Experience the world of Michael John LaChiusa's Hello Again: the passion, sex, and power of 10 love affairs, one from each decade of the 20th Century. Witness The Whore, The Young Thing, The Senator, The Soldier and others as they navigate each new sexual entanglement. Love and desire clash as each character seeks elusive connections. Inspired by Arthur Schnitzler's controversial 1897 play, La Ronde, 5-time Tony Award nominee LaChiusa brings Schnitzler's love stories to life with musical and lyrical styles of each decade, ranging from opera to jazz to disco. Transport Group's production, the first New York City revival of Hello Again, will feature new orchestrations by Drama Desk Award winner Mary-Mitchell Campbell (Company) and will be staged non-traditionally in a raw space in SoHo by 2-time Drama Desk Award nominee Jack Cummings III (The Boys in the Band). The cast features Alan Campbell, Blake Daniel, Jonathan Hammond, Rachel Bay Jones, Nikka Graff Lanzarone, Robert Lenzi, Alexandra Silber, Elizabeth Stanley, Bob Stillman and Max von Essen." 

Basically? It is going to be pretty special. Sexy. Emotional. Physiological. Fascinating. Funny. Tragic. Stunning. Risky. (*ahem*) Penetrative. 

And truly, there is nothing like meeting your cast six weeks ahead of rehearsals, shaking their hands and then taking your clothes off to pose for riské photographs (another *ahem*... below...), but there is also nothing like being blessed enough to sing the landmark song (the perfect and brilliant "Tom"), and reviving a contemporary classic with a rock star cast in The Big Apple itself. 

Join us. 
Do. 
Come along and say Hello.
Again. 
     ...And possibly again. 

The only thing I’m wearing in this photo is Bob Stillman and some pearls...

PS) .... Have you headed over to Facebook and liked “Hello Again” yet?
Like it! and then come see it!