I freakin' love this band. This record is pretty exceptional.

Hits the spot today, I tell ya what.

For @steffiknows and @aussiebecka!

As I mentioned yesterday, Mandi and I are starting Halloween early this year. I love making mixes, and here's what I have SO FAR for 2013. Check back as I might be adding more, and please please please feel free to share!

A Few Words From Between the Cracks-By Scot Shamblin

  A stage production tries to be many things. Inspiring, challenging, entertaining, moving, and above all respectful of Art. Robert Kauzlaric's adaptation of 'Neverwhere' by Neil Gaiman provided the foundation for Sacred Fools' latest sacrifice to the gods del Arte. The offering, I feel, has been wholly accepted and appreciated.

I joined in the adventure to bring 'Neverwhere' to the west coast for the first time as understudy to the very talented Bryan Krasner. I wondered (briefly) if I was offered the understudy part because I somewhat matched the physicality of Mr. Krasner. His are big shoes to fill both literally and figuratively. That thought was quickly cast aside as I was given an unprecedented amount of trust to make the roles my own by the faithful director, Scott Leggett.

In the rehearsal process I was given free reign to come and go as I pleased, never being bolted down. This proved helpful in being able to "touch base" with Mr. Krasner without becoming dangerously married to his portrayals.

The only times where choice was not afforded were the nights of fight choreography, impulsively and passionately demonstrated to me by the award winning Andrew Amani. The man thinks on his feet and he adapts his fights to the players smoothly. Again, trust was more than amply vested in me to bury both the subtle and not so subtle movements with staff, knife, and bare-fist. There was never a frustrating moment in the fighting and safety was always priority number one. A great comfort.

Opening night came and went. A packed house, glorious reviews, and a buzz began to reverberate across the stage world of Los Angeles. This was something to see and were I not an understudy, I would have. As each actor has his or her own process stewed in unique spices, my brew requires a diligent eye on my own crock until it is ready to be served. My only true regret in this whole process is that I missed so much wonderment in seeing the show early in the run.

Still, I simmered until called for. The single rehearsal we had before being thrust towards a hungry audience provided ample heat and we fed the crowd with quick, large ladles. I left that night elated. A chef not only pleased, but proud of his menu.

The ensuing performances I enjoyed with equal parts humbleness and honor. I cannot remember ever being given this much space to play even as a main player. To have had this opportunity is something I won't ever forget and certainly something I can't ever duplicate. What a magical show with a dedicated cast and crew from top to bottom! Simply magical.

  -Scot Shamblin

A bit more than half way there.

This weekend was originally scheduled to be our closing, but thanks to the popular and critical support we've received, we're all thrilled to have a few extra weeks to play in London Below!

Thanks to all who have made it out thus far, and if you are in LA or going to be in there area between now and May 25th, get your tickets NOW because they are going fast! http://bit.ly/NeverwhereTix

The Petrified Performance by Bob Simpson.

“Greetings, and welcome to Sacred Fools’ production of ‘Neverwhere’…”

  So begins the pre-show speech, delivered wryly by Jonathan Kells Phillips, playing the Marquis de Carabas in Sacred Fools Theatre’s production of Neverwhere.  Jonathan is one gear in a well-oiled machine, a production so complete that it nearly boggles the mind.   There’s only one problem: Jonathan Kells Phillips isn’t here tonight. 

  His understudy is here, it’s me, and I’m currently behind the stage-left curtain, unable to move.

  As the pre-show speech continues, informing the audience what to do in case of a fire (helpful tip: just punch everything that moves until you’re outside), a number of panic-induced thoughts flood into my brain, including the following:

  Did I preset everything?

A common concern for most theater actors, but elevated in this case, as I have no idea what I’m doing.  I race through the props I’m responsible for in the show: the statue used to ward off the Beast of London, the pocketwatch stolen from Door’s house, the fire extinguisher I use to bludgeon myself in the head in Scene 4.  A moment of terror overtakes me as I realize I didn’t set the fire extinguisher, which is followed by relief as I realize I made that prop up.

  In what order do I enter the first scene?

Do I follow Marz, Carlos, Cassandra, or Senator Strom Thurmond?  And what the hell is Strom Thurmond doing in this show?  He wasn’t in the book.  And isn’t he dead?

  Am I wearing the right pants over the other pants I wear?

Sounds silly, right?  But seriously, during certain parts of the show I wear two pairs of pants at the same time, which leaves virtually no room for error, since if I walked onstage wearing the wrong pants on top I would look like a moron.

  What’s my name, and am I dead?

It’s Bob, and no.

  Then, before I am able to devise even more concerns to levy upon my already levied brow, the pre-show speech is over, and the show has started.  I try to take a deep breath and relax before the first scene, but I can’t, because everyone else in that scene is walking onstage, and it’s time to take the plunge.

  The next few hours are a blur – I remember almost nothing about what occurred onstage, though I can say with relative confidence that I avoided destroying most of the set or brutally, albeit inadvertently, injuring any of the main cast…except for when I stabbed Vandemar in the neck with a rapier.  Sorry, Bryan.  Seriously, I don’t know what I was doing with a rapier onstage.

  I do remember moments from the performance, but instead of recalling some above-average acting moment I pulled off or a cue that I missed (of which, I’m sure, there were many), I vividly remember those moments that occurred once I stepped offstage and behind the curtain.  After nearly every exit I made I was greeted by a member of the regular cast shaking my hand, cracking a smile, or mouthing some words of encouragement to me.  That, more than any applause or laughter from the audience, meant the world to me.

  You see, being an understudy is weird.  On one hand, it’s a great gig as you don’t have to attend as many rehearsals as the main cast, so you aren’t as mentally or physically drained as they are.  Instead, you fill the role of an observer, watching their run-throughs, marveling at their choices and the production level of the play, picking out the moments you want to steal from the actor you’ll be covering.  On the other hand, when the time comes for you to fill in for that actor, the lines, blocking and cues haven’t been ingrained into your body.  You can’t FEEL the play as well as if you were in the main cast.  It’s a strange, uneasy sensation.

  So when your number is inevitably called and you step into the Marquis’ shoes, having the main cast be as supportive as the folks in Neverwhere were makes a world of difference.  These actors, and let’s not forget the awe-inspiring backstage tandem of Suze and Yonie, were just as responsible for me successfully completing the performance as I was.  Without their words of encouragement, the occasional nudge in the right direction, and the overall “we got your back” mentality…well, I may have finished the performance, but it would have been far more terrifying.

  To the cast and crew of Neverwhere, I look forward to the remaining performances I get to share with you.  Thank you…it has been an honor.

From our Set Designer, Michael Schneider.

Beautifully writ, as always!

http://www.blcksmthdesign.com/2013/04/29/the-warp-and-weft-part-4-happy-endings/

One Very Special Guest.

We were honored, to say the very, very least!

A mix inspired by the people, places, and things of @neilhimself's "Neverwhere," by @michael_rholmes

Worlds Away: A Six-Year Journey to Find London Below by Donnelle Fuller.

I've always been a lover of "worlds". A book nerd before I could even talk, I loved nothing as much as steeping my youth in fiction that transported me from the mundane to the fantastical. I visited Oz, Wonderland, Narnia. Grew older. Took several spins through Hogwarts (who didn't?). Grew older still. Followed the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Picked through the parallel universes of His Dark Materials and walked (and walked and walked) with Frodo and Sam. And as an adult, I'm obsessed with the magic and political treachery of A Song of Ice and Fire. This love of worlds has seeped into every part of my life, graduating with a BA in English (more reading about worlds!) and another BA in Acting (pretending I'm IN worlds!) from college, and even manifesting itself in my apartment and office (there's a joke amongst my friends that everything I decorate turns into an enchanted faerie glen). But yeah. Love me some worlds, their quirky inhabitants, and the unlikely hero whose life they suddenly change forever. But there's one author whose tales and characters have left a particularly indelible mark on my brain. And that's Neil Gaiman. After discovering and quickly devouring several of his works about six years ago, I immediately declared him to be my favorite author to anyone who asked the question of me. And my favorites of his titles? That would be American Gods...and Neverwhere. Delightedly discovering Door's red-haired, short-statured, elfin features to be similar to my own, I told anybody and everybody that if they ever staged Neverwhere in the US or remade the miniseries or turned it into a movie, I would do anything in my power to be a part of it. Two years later, I moved to Los Angeles from Chicago. And...not a lot happened in that time, but two years after THAT, I met my soon-to-be boyfriend via OKCupid. In the Favorite Books prompt, I said (verbatim): 

I pick American Gods as my favorite book. Okay, maybe tied with Neverwhere (THE BOOK, not the show, although the show preceded the book which is...bizarre. Anyway, if they ever remake it in the states, I'm gonna campaign so hard to play Door. Like you don't even KNOW.) And then it turned out that soon-to-be boyfriend was a member of Sacred Fools. A theatre I had no idea WAS a theatre even though it had existed only two blocks from the only apartment I'd ever inhabited in LA (I'd thought it was a Latin dance hall). Flash forward nine months. I'd been shyly tiptoeing around the edges of the Fools enough that a few people knew me, most didn't, but I'd stepped onto the stage a couple of times in the Fools' 24-hour theatre blitzkrieg just to reawaken live acting muscles that had gone dormant after graduating years ago. I wasn't sure I was ready to dive back into the long hours of commitment that theatre requires. Hell, I didn't think I had the chops. I hadn't been in a show in...oh god, five years. But then I attended the Fools' annual gala where they announce the next season's shows...and my stomach fell into my shoes when they announced Neverwhere. Right place, right time. This was a sign. This was fate. Now I knew I'd have to get serious about re-entering the theatre world if I was going to have a shot here. Out of all the theatres and production studios in all the country...a portal into London Below was- almost literally- right in my own backyard.

Nine months after that, I had my first mainstage acting credit at the Fools under my belt for A Kind of Love Story. I also had a perfectly otherworldly audition monologue from The Skriker in my pocket. My confidence was back. I was ready. But when it came time to write down on my audition form what part (if any) I was auditioning for, I didn't write Door. And I didn't write Croup, who I'd have wanted to be even more had gender-blind casting been a goal. I didn't write anything. 

Because I realized it didn't matter who (or what) I could be. I just wanted to be part of the world.

And now...I'm a ratspeaker. I'm Crrplrr the pigeon. I'm a jittery weapons hawker in the Floating Market. I'm the Darkness that glides into your mind on Knight's Bridge. I'm cheerful old Brother Fuliginous, excited to witness a prophesy coming true. In Mr. Gaiman's words, you can be anything you want to be in London Below. "A man or a monster. A hero or a god." I feel blessed that I get to step into the shoes of all those things. I feel like the fated hero in my own personal Neverwhere odyssey. And as for that "unlikely" part...well, if you'd told me six years ago that one day I'd be cast as the giant, bloodthirsty Great Beast of London in a staged production of my favorite novel, I would have said: "Yeah, right. In what world?"

MORE SHOWS ADDED!

Due to overwhelming public demand we have joyfully extended our run! Beginning on April 25th we'll be adding thursday night performance and we will now close on May 25th!

But don't wait to buy those tickets, get 'em NOW because they are going Fast!!!!

The Sound of London Below.

When Scott contacted me to let me know that his proposal for Neverwhere had been accepted into the Sacred Fools season, my first thought was, “Well, I should probably read this play.”

  Exactly two pages into reading the play, I thought, “Well, I should probably read this book first”

  So, last spring over the course of several weeks, I cheated, and during my morning walks, I listened to the Neverwhere book on tape (or ipod, rather). Incidentally, this was read by the author himself .  Best book on tape I’ve ever heard.  Apparently, Mr. Gaiman’s talents are rather limitless.

  Though not necessarily an imperative stage of the design process, I am so glad that I decided to read the book before diving into the play.  Obviously, a stage version of this epic story has to be streamlined to avoid a play lasting what I imagine would be several weeks.  But in reading the book, you naturally get a much more extensive and vivid picture of the universe Gaiman created.  As I became progressively drawn into the intricate and magical world of London below and increasingly amazed by the extensive detail of each element of the story, one thing became abundantly clear to me:  The was going to be the largest design I’ve ever worked on.

  Listening to the book, I remember specifically one passage that really lodged in my mind.   It was the first description of the Great Beast of London during one of Richard’s nightmares:

  “It is huge. It fills the space of the sewer: massive head down, bristled body and breath steaming in the chill of the air. Some kind of boar, he thinks at first, and then realizes that that must be nonsense, no boar could be so huge. It is the size of a bull, of a tiger, of a car.”

  What a BRILLIANT description of a monster!  And what a challenge!  I knew I would have my hands full on creating the innumerable components of the underworld.  Individual sounds would not work in creating any fragment of this place.  Each piece of the world would have to be textured and layered.  The beast would have to be a combination of animals (and machines), and each area of this sprawling world would have to be peppered with hints and tastes of different places.  After all, the story tells us that London below is composed of people who have fallen through the cracks, and the labyrinth where the beast lives is described as “… a place of pure madness, built of broken fragments of London Above. It is a world of the lost and the forgotten. Sewers and marshes and corpses and stone and mud.”.  For me, I wanted the underworld to sound not necessarily like any place immediately identifiable, yet maintaining hints of the world we’re all familiar with.

The process of building Neverwhere was an often tedious and tiresome one.  Pulling the sound elements alone to build the design took several weeks. I found myself more exacting than usual in find just the right sounds that would work.  When I couldn't find them in my sound library, I went to different design websites I know.  When I couldn't find them there, I went to youtube to try to find just the right sound.  Once building began, a brain scrambling process took over.  I had created a separate folder for each effect of every scene.  With each different effect, I would throw every element I pulled into one of my sound programs (either Audacity and ProTools) and begin an extensive audition process of trial, error, and process of elimination.  Sounds would be discarded and replaced.  Shifted to different effects in other scenes.  Levels raised and lowered ad nauseum.  Tempos adjusted, pitches changed.  Pieces sent through filters, given flange, reverb, echo, or any number of effects.  Here is an example of the LOOK of the sound of London Below.  The Floating Market:

This is just the file for the general ambiance of the scene.  It contains none of the details like Old Bailey’s birds or the drone underscoring his monologue or the echo of the Beast. You can, however, see the hint of London above we tried to texture in at the bottom of the file where we textured in just a touch of the muzak from Herrod’s (“Girl from Ipenema” and “Wave”)

The only real general note I tried to keep in mind concerning the whole of the play was that I wanted London above to sound much more like a haze to Richard and London below to sound music more specific and clear and almost musical to him. even in its most horrific places.  This process was made easier by the addition of the glorious score by Ryan Johnson, whose work I found blissfully mirrored in tone with almost everything I created.  I wanted London itself to sound more like static to him, from the streets to his apartment to his office.  But below should be an absolute wonderland to him.  Here’s a look at his office:

Noise.  All those elements you may find in any office anywhere.  But I wanted it to sound like it was all piled up in Richard’s cube.

After 2 straight weeks of rising at 8 and going to bed at 2, the design was complete, and we began the process of creating the show in the computer at the Fools.  When I was in high school, all my aptitude tests told me that I should go into engineering, and it’s truly during the show building process where all the mathematical elements of those aptitude tests come home to roost – especially during this project, when we decided to put all of the sound, music, video, and lights into one program.  Because of this, all fades, crossfades, starts and stops had to be painstakingly run over and over and over and over again to make sure the timing was juuuuuuuust right.  Add 2.3 seconds of fade here, take .7 seconds off a delay on a cue there, etc., etc., etc.  In other words, a whollllllle lotta math.  Each blast of magic sound I created for Door using the family powers to enter any particular place had to be synced within a hair to Matt Richter’s kaleidoscope of lighting effects and Ben Rock’s and Anthony Backman’s video projections to create just the right overall feel.  I feel that I understand the process that classical composers go through a lot more now, because the individual designs alone are really nothing.  It’s only when they all come seamlessly together that you get a symphony.

And ultimately, the last and most important stage of this process lies in placing all this chaos underneath the story being told by the actors.  For as fun as all the pops and whistles we create can be, they’re worthless if they override the story.  We’re ultimately there to shade and fill out color and support.  This cast was incredibly game and willing to work with everything we threw at them.  They were uniquely patient as we tried to find levels and timing to match up to the groundwork they had already laid down.  And for me, as a designer, the most fun part is when you see an actor USE an element you built to enhance their actions.  Julia Griswold and Donnelle Fuller have been magical in incorporating the rat and pigeon and Beast sounds into their work.  And all of the cast have found places where they can use sound elements to their advantage.  As someone who is primarily an actor, myself, THIS is the part of the design process I enjoy most; when you see an actor recognize and embrace the knowledge that you’ve given them toys to play with.

Without a doubt, this is the hardest I’ve ever worked on a show.  But the reason I was so motivated to push myself so hard is because I have never been around so many people who have put so much toil and effort and heart and guts and determination into bringing their A game to a project.  It has been a creative process of true artists and professionals.  You can never know how an audience will respond to your work, really.  You can think you’ve done a good job, but it’s all such a crap shoot at the end of the day.  However, I can tell you as someone who’s a pretty relentless perfectionist, I am genuinely proud of my work on this show, as well as the work of everyone else involved.    I would hope that everyone who comes to this show can understand the Herculean effort that was made by so many people in bringing this project to life.  That’s not just theatre club.  That’s love.

Mind the gap.  And enjoy Neverwhere!

Stepping In, Stepping Up.-Guy Picot Talks About Opening Weekend.

Understudying without guaranteed performances can be a thankless task. However diligently you prepare for the unlikely possibility of going on, you know that ideally, that preparation will never be tested. You’re like a fire-extinguisher; people are vaguely re-assured that you are there, but it would be better all round if you remained unused. I am understudying “Mr. Croup” and five small parts played by the wonderful Ezra Buzzington. I am also, as Sacred Fools’ token Brit, Dialect Coach on the show. Mid-way through rehearsal Ezra booked a pilot, and we knew there might be a possibility that a conflict would arise.

The big show was taking shape. The cast, who for the most part hadn’t worked together before, were bonding through the rehearsal process. I wasn’t really in their gang. I was the annoying voice at the break, sidling up to someone and saying “Try not to turn that T into a D.” But my presence at most rehearsals did at least mean that the words found their way into my head. Croup is a verbose character who never says one word when seven will do. He is also half of a double-act with Mr. Vandemar, played by Bryan Krasner, the only actor in the show with whom I had been on-stage before, so I knew I had a friend in my corner.

Scott Leggett, the director, outlined a plan whereby I would get some rehearsal time on the set during tech week, so if Ezra were to be unavailable, I would at least have some familiarity with the backstage madness. It was at this point that a genuine emergency knocked my little predicament into a very distant second place. The lead actor, Michael Holmes, booked a commercial in London for opening week, his understudy Bryan Bellomo would be doing the last five days of tech and the first three performances. Richard Mayhew is seldom off-stage and drives a lot of the action. Bryan had guaranteed performances later in the run and was not expecting to start understudy rehearsals until after the show had opened.  

It was on the Wednesday of the last week of dress runs that I got confirmation that I would indeed be doing the opening night Friday. Bryan was quietly astonishing and the rest of the cast had welcomed him unreservedly. One understudy on opening night is unfortunate, two is pretty much unheard of. If any of the cast wondered how they had got themselves into this mad-house, they kept it to themselves.

My first dress run I was most concerned about not ripping Ezra’s costume. Ezra is a slim man, not so slim that I needed my own costume, but slim enough so that movement felt risky. Once onstage I enjoyed playing with the cast I had so loved watching over the previous weeks. I felt like they had let me into their gang. We were instantly bonded by a shared hope – that I wasn’t going to mess up their show.

The first night came and went, it was a lovely supportive audience. My wife could bring a friend to use the ticket that had been booked for me.

I learned a few little things, I’ll do better next time, if I have one. If not, that’s okay too.

WE DON’T NEED ANOTHER HERO A Journey through London Below by Richard Mayhew Understudy Bryan Bellomo.

RICHARD

Forgotten?  Oh right… Should I meet you there then?

  JESSICA

You’re already fifteen minutes late for meeting me at your flat.

  RICHARD

Right. Sorry, Jessica.

    Thus begins Richard Mayhew’s tale, the epic journey of a well-intentioned-albeit-running-late-to-the-party hero thrust into circumstances beyond his incapable reach.  And due to circumstances beyond my incapable reach, thus also began mine, performing as Richard for the opening weekend of NEVERWHERE.

  I, too, arrived late to the party.  In truth, I hadn’t even intended to audition for NEVERWHERE.  I was directing a reading at the time and producing a web series, and didn’t have a moment to even open the script until the first round of auditions were wrapping up.  Given the community’s excitement about the show and their to-the-death feelings for Mr. Gaiman, I should have known better.  Like Richard, I simply had no idea.

  Kauzlaric’s adaptation stoked every whimsical childhood fire in me.  There was adventure and love and heroism.  And puppets.  And there was Richard—hapless, hopeless, hopeful Richard—at the center of it all.  So yeah, I’ll admit it.  I did a little begging to get in.  I wanted to audition for the Rat Speaker. I wanted Gary and Tooley.  I wanted to play in the world.  I didn’t imagine myself as Richard.  Not at all, really. 

  Ummm, you’re calling me back for Richard?  Richard.  Richard… Mayhew?  Really?!

    CARABAS

And you are… Richard Mayhew?  You’re the one who rescued our poor wounded Door?

    Six weeks later I was still directing, still producing, yet now I was cast as Richard’s Understudy.  The shock hadn’t worn off.  I’d attended a small handful of run-throughs to make certain I wasn’t completely behind the 8-ball, or, you know, fired.  Still, my script often slept near my bed, unopened.  I wondered when I would be able to settle down and dig in to the behemoth.  I was about to find out.

  My telephone rang at noon on a Monday.  It was our director, Scott Leggett.  “Heyyyyyyyyy.  Soooo.  Listennnnn…”  He sounded more than a touch stoned.  Granted, it had been a long tech weekend for him, but still, I feared for his well being.  Then he shared a very odd tale with me, and I began to fear for mine. 

  Scott wasn’t stoned.  He was terrified.

  Turns out, our beloved Richard (the sturdy and impressive Michael Holmes) had just booked a commercial—in London Above, the actual London, the real one, in Britain—and would be flying there for a week to film, and would be missing the first weekend of the show, and that as his Understudy I would be arriving in London Below in his place, and so, yeah, and what did I think?

  And yes, this was communicated in one sentence.  One long, sober sentence.  And yes, this was one week before opening.

    RICHARD

Hang on a sec.  Back up.  Mmmmm... this Ordeal of yours.  How much of an Ordeal is it?

    If you haven’t seen it (and you should), NEVERWHERE is two-hours and forty minutes on a freight train carrying 70 year-old TNT over a giant chasm heading towards a darkened tunnel inside a man-drilled mountain.  It’s a thrilling, unstable ride, and Richard’s heroics are not only emotionally demanding but physically taxing.  It’s a classic coming-of-age story and Richard is our central conduit for the audience experience.  We see, feel, and experience London Above and Below through him.  Or, as was dawning on me quickly, through me. 

  Now you have to understand something about Michael Holmes.  Michael is a true leader in every sense of the word.  His shoulders are broad, his shoes irreplaceable.  His performance is wonderful, alive, and moving.  Not only has he carried the show from moment one with creativity and empathy, but he is also kind, generous, giving, and works his ass off both onstage and for the production as a whole.  He’s rather obnoxious, actually.

  So throw out your SHOWGIRLS understudy fantasies, this is not the guy you’re going to club in the back of the leg to get on the stage.  You’re going to elevate him, because he elevates everyone else.  This is his role, and his show.  He calls the plays.  He sets the tone.  So, what else could I do?  I immediately called him. 

  I was very torn.  Turns out, so was he.  We shared an odd, genuine and supportive conversation, and it became clear we were both in for a thrilling journey.  Two Richards, two continents, seven days, and one opening weekend.  Michael was on his way to London Above and I was quickly speeding towards disaster in London Below. 

    RICHARD

Well, lead on Macduff…

    Have you ever been marched to the gallows as they’re going to behead you with a guillotine?  No?  Well, neither have I.  Yet at the theater that night everyone else around me seemed to understand this very well.  Suddenly I was Sir Thomas Moore.  Castmates placed reassuring hands on my shoulders, and with furrowed brows, thin voices and watery eyes, asked, “Is there anything I can do?”  I looked at Michael.  I could only think to respond, “Friend, be not afraid of your office.  You send me to God.”

  The work began.  And by work, I mean for the next four days, morning, noon and night was NEVERWHERE.  My day job was London Above, and all else was London Below.  At the time I was familiar with about 30% of the show.  My iPhone became Door, and Jessica, and Carabas, and Croup, and Vandemar, and Islington.  I read the entire show into its microphone app then acted out all of the parts, eager to absorb every nuance of the characters and the tale.  I didn’t just want to not fail, as was the expectation of those around me for me, I wanted my work to matter and Richard’s story to come alive.

  If you’re not an actor, storytelling looks like magic.  If you are, you understand that it is a yeoman’s profession, born out of sweat, guts and tears.  It takes time, patience and fortitude.  To accomplish something simple that you do in life, like picking up a newspaper, is incredibly complex to recreate truthfully on the stage.  Yet the creative process can be highly pleasurable, even under duress.  There is nothing more intimate than wrestling with a creative problem and arriving at a new, personal solution.  Suddenly, your priorities are straight.  Suddenly, you have an opportunity to make art.

  And the more I invested in that work, the more my Richard began to reveal himself to me.  He was funny, he was kind and protective, he was in way over his head, his heart was in the right place for the right reasons.  He wanted something to be important, not just for himself, but for everyone he met along the journey.  He wanted to be their hero.

  Art was continuing to imitate life.

    RICHARD

Now would be a very bad time to discover that one was bad with heights, wouldn’t it?

  DOOR

Yes.

  RICHARD

Then, I won’t.

    It arrived, as we all feared it would.  Michael’s last day with us and my first day.  It was exactly one week before opening.  It was a long, laborious day at my job, and traffic was awful, and I was late.  I was done for, really.  So I smiled, I breathed.  I took it all in.  What else was there to do?  Panic? 

  Here are some of the conversations I had in the preceding moments before the run:

  Are you nervous?

No.  I just feel lucky.

  Are you scared?

No.  I just feel lucky.

  Are you ready?

Sure.  I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

  It was a bizarre mix that seemed to work, overwhelm and gratitude.  Like chocolate and bacon, it sounds gross but you just have to experience it.  My Scottish accent in tow, in full costume and full makeup, we ran the entire damn beast without stopping.  I stumbled, I kicked, I felt the sweat pouring off me.  It was a blur mostly, a stimulus-induced bumper car ride, but I made it. 

  And I never called for my lines once.  A victory. 

  Sure, I passed out shortly thereafter, and was immovably sore the next day.  But I had twice as much respect for Michael after that run, and hatred, because only jerks make marathons look easy.  And the next milestone had been reached.  Scott affirmed it, when he flatly added, “At least we know Bryan isn’t going to suck.”  Everyone knew he was right. 

  More importantly, the cast and crew relaxed from that night on.  They respected that while I could never become Michael’s Richard, I could grow into Bryan’s Richard.  It’s a testament to Scott’s leadership that he assembled an ensemble of artists so generous, open and devoid of ego, that even under the most unlikely of circumstances, no one flinched.  What a group of pros.

    RICHARD

I’m no warrior.

    Let’s face it.  This circumstance, whatever it was and whatever it would be, had nothing to do with me.  Or Michael, for that matter.  Call it fate.  Or The Universe.  Or a hellishly bad joke.  Whatever man.  Michael leaves for London, to shoot a commercial over the opening week/weekend of a show that takes place in London, and ultimately stays at a place within walking distance of his character?  While I’m living a real-life tale of a man displaced, turned around, and pulled from one life into another without much consent, forced to undergo a trial of epic proportions?  If you wrote that in a play people would walk out. 

  Synchronously, that series of absurd events leading me to the stage helped us all transcend the moment.  My ego left the building.  It wasn’t about me at all.  Where I would normally feel pressure, I felt liberation.  When I might previously be so nervous as to break out in hives, I felt growing excitement to deliver.  It could have been disastrous and instead developed into one of the great weeks of my life.  Richard’s story was playing out as my own, not simply, not without trial, but quite perfectly because of its raw imperfection.  We all triumphed over adversity, together.

  With each run, I grew more comfortable, at ease, and confident.  My Richard breathed.  Acting instincts took over.  Relationships deepened on stage, and more creative choices continued to reveal themselves.  The brilliant cast transformed and embraced me through the final phase, and we began to play.  Theater was fun again.  The heart and the guts and the spirit returned and the show crackled.

  And just in time to march towards the beast below, Opening Night of NEVERWHERE.

    RICHARD

Go ahead and do your… thing.

    You can assume the rest.  Last Friday night we opened to a sold-out crowd.  Then played again Saturday to a sold-out crowd.  Sunday sure felt like a sold-out crowd, too.  It felt like we all rose to the occasion.  I did my best, stayed present, and enjoyed every second.  And then it was done, and I released the show, back to Michael, back to Scott and the beautiful cast, back to Neil Gaiman and our ever-growing audience.

  By all external accounts, the show was awesome.  I don’t know.  I remember that I trusted my fellow actors with my heart and received theirs back.  It was hilarious and moving to me, which is a good sign.  I went on a journey and learned of myself.  And the accolades appeared genuine and meaningful.  As Noel Coward says, “Everyone needs sugar.”  So I’ll swallow mine.

  That’s not what I will remember.  Here’s what I will remember:

  1. I did my work.

2. The rest of the cast did their work.

3. The director did his work.

4. The crew did their work.

  Here is what I learned:

  1. When your attention is on giving of yourself and sharing in an experience, you know you’re on the right path.

2. Don’t ever meet someone else’s expectations.  Exceed your own.

3. Make art this day, and be grateful that you still can.  Have a blast making it.

4. Never deny the existence of forces that you will never understand.

  I’ve taken up so much space here I won’t burden you much further.  Go see the show already!  Except I will share a personal story about my own dear Richard Mayhew, a man I’ve come to know intimately and love a great deal… 

  In the opening moments of the play, a dirty woman on a train steps up to him and says, “Give me your hand.  I want to tell you your fortune.”  I looked to Cassandra, the beautiful actress playing the archetype of the disheveled and forgotten, and wiped my hand quickly on my jacket before presenting it to her.  The gesture, and the intention, is all in.  It says, “Fuck it.  Why not?  Let’s do this.”

  I loved that choice.  It revealed to me the tenderness of Richard’s heart, and his willingness despite appearances to show up and play.  Richard and I were whisked on a strange journey from that moment, one I will always remember.  And now the next phase of that journey is Michael’s again.  As of the time of this writing, he hasn’t officially opened his show yet.  I cannot wait to see London Below through his eyes, the eyes of a new man informed by a whirlwind journey of his own through London Above these past weeks.  I know that the space apart from the show will have deepened and crystallized his work in ways he may not yet even know.

  Go get ‘em, Michael.  Make us proud.  And thank you, truly, for allowing me an epic hero’s journey.  I hope I lived up.

Dispatch from London Above: A Travelogue by M. Holmes

I don't believe in coincidence. There's a reason for everything, and just because the pattern's too big for me to see doesn't mean it's not there. It's all part of the puzzle.

But when you tell me that I get to go to London opening week of a show that I've spent months working on, meaning I won't actually be there to open the show...well, that's a bit of a head scratcher!

Let me back up a bit: my rockstar commercial agent submitted me for a spot that was filming in The UK, and being a good professional actor, there was NO way I was going to say no to the audition. I knew the dates overlapped, and frankly figured I had no shot at the spot anyway, so no worries. But they say it's when you go in and you don't worry about getting the job that you get it, and that was very true in this case. I called Scott Leggett, director supreme and one hell of a mensch, in tears to let him know first I was on avail for the job, and later that I booked it, and he was super cool and proud of me from the moment he picked up.

It helped of course that my understudy (though he is waaaaaay more than that) Bryan Bellomo had been at numerous rehearsals and was ready to jump in at a moment's notice. I didn't feel right leaving. But I knew the show was in good hands.

Now, I'd NEVER been to London before. I've wanted to be British since I was a teen, but somehow a trip to England didn't seem inscribed on the cards Dame Fortuna dealt me. This opportunity, while oddly timed, actually helped not only to fulfill a very old dream of mine, but informed my understanding of "Neverwhere" that much more.

Like, for example, going to Harrod's for the first time and experiencing its majesty...

Especially the bit where The Floating Market is meant to take place...

And going to British museums (though not THE British Museum, sadly. But hey-Bowie!)

Seeing the spots that inspired characters and places in the story...

And because I was in the neighborhood, Holmes at 221B Baker St.

All in all, a fabulous trip. But I am super eager to be back here to experience the magic of London Below. Many gracious thanks to the astounding cast and crew of our show. And let's see what Bryan's experience of opening weekend was now, shall we?