“Lend Me A Tenor” -- One Actor’s Diary

(Hill Country Community Theatre, Sept. 28-Oct. 15)

by Preston F. Kirk

Editor’s Note: This is the second in a series of stories that will track the experience of being an actor, from audition through the last curtain call. It will be an inside look at the process, the foibles, the fears and the thrills of live theatre! To see the writer’s previous diary entries at any time during the upcoming weeks, go to www.hcct.org/

Aug. 14 - First rehearsal, and there are some nervous looks all around among the cast. Everyone will definitely work with scripts in hand this first night. We are looking at an empty stage, which barely 24 hours before was the lovely Austrian setting designed by HCCT’s Curtis Ashby for “The Sound of Music.” The stage floor is taped and labeled to mark the sitting room, bedroom walls, the closet/kitchen/bathroom entrances, the railings and the six doors.

Yes, six! A farce usually means lots of split-second entries and exits by the characters, and director Barry Pineo moans that until they are up, it will be difficult to get “precise entries” and exact timing down. Kirk Tatum /“Tito” thinks Trinity Windows & Doors may lend all matching doors and hardware. The fact that his fiancée Elaine works there should help.

A “false proscenium,” or plywood decoration added to the normal stage opening remains in place, but Barry thinks this narrowing of the width of the stage will “force the action” and make for a faster-paced performance.

“Give me 100% of what you think the character is all the time. If I don’t say anything, keep going,” Barry begins. He often addresses us as “Actor People” and punctuates just about every comment with laughter. (He could be a vocal stand-in for the laughter-riddled “Click ‘n’ Clack Brothers” on KLRU-FM.)

And he’s insistent that we write stage direction/movements and notes into our scripts. “My expectation is that you will take all this down and come back with more. Embellish it!” Translation: Get inside your character and build on what the director recommends.

While scenes and “bits” seem to be repeated ad nauseum, it is clear early on that Barry’s insistent “Do it again!” is actually helping us memorize lines, timing and place on the stage. And his later comment gives good reason: “I think this is an absolutely genius, brilliant comedy. We don’t want to mess with it. So you’re going to have to be pretty much word perfect.” (Gulp!)

Aug. 15 - Surprises. The first rehearsal went until 10:30 p.m., and we’re now assured they all will go that late every night four nights a week. Barry has, however thoughtfully tailored call times for each person to be in the playhouse to rehearse, sometimes only an hour or so. We covered many more pages than expected on the first night, although starting with act two seems a bit odd.

Mike Morelli/”Max,” the opera company “gopher” who is in the guise of the great “Tito” in one scene, is surprised by his love interest as he enters the hotel suite. Barry keeps asking for a big physical “take” or reaction. “Bigger. Bigger!” Finally, he demonstrates it with a cartoon caricature of total surprise. Mike then pulls it off beautifully�again and again and again.

Posture! Posture! Posture! “Lead with your hips!” Barry keeps reminding me to cease leaning into other characters and to arch back a bit, fully drawn up in height. It makes “Henry Saunders,” the over-bearing, controlling Opera Company manager, more assertive. (By the end of the week, I’m getting into it, but I may have to head for a chiropractor.) Ronda Dale Kirk, my wife, reminds me that my old “lean-and-deliver” stance did, as Barry noted, make the character look “weak.”

At one point as we breathlessly - and repeatedly - rehearse a hilarious chase scene through the non-existent set, Barry, welcoming improvisation, declares, “Don’t make me do all the thinking here, you actor types.” Wendy James/’Diane” the soprano, quips in a tone of acquiescence, “We’re your puppets, Barry.” His shouted response: “I don’t want to be a puppet master!”

The night’s other best exchange involves Emily Morelli/”Maggie” when she bee-lines through the set to another position to deliver a line. Barry admonishes: “You just walked through a wall!” Her retort, laced with laughter is “I’m special.”

And Emily is special. She’s pregnant! That fact is reinforced when Barry notices she is absent from the only scene where all eight characters are supposed to be on stage. It seems the “morning sickness” was triggered on this late evening by some odd smell on stage. We work on through, but Emily is clearly a bit “rocky” the rest of the evening.

Aug. 16 - Bad News . . . twice! Those of us just arriving learn that Kirk Tatum/”Tito Merelli,” the tenor, will not be with us this night. Kirk, a service writer for a local vehicle dealership, suffered chest pains at work. He was taken to a minor emergency room and sent home to recover. Turns out to be undiagnosed (or ignored) high blood pressure.

Hard to believe. Tatum is like a hard-charging rhino, fully committed to all he undertakes. He has been involved with nearly every show at HCCT for the past two years, either performing in major roles or directing. And he’s always helping construct or “strike” (tear down) the sets. Stage manager April Adams reads his lines from the first row and we move on - and at a brisk pace. But there is a definite pall and a lot of lingering concern.

Just as we break, Mike announces that HCCT staffer Curtis Ashby, a talented set designer, has given notice and is joining a production team in Las Vegas. Most of us are stunned. We only have drawings for the set. Frank Adams, who is standing in for Mark Fernandez/”The Bellhop” until Mark is available in a week or two, immediately volunteers to “lead the build.” He’s already got another volunteer, Jerry Alt, “The German officer in “�Music,” asking about painting, too.

Mike seems to have seen the departure coming, but Barry is a bit apoplectic at hearing the official pronouncement and retreats behind closed doors with Mike for a few minutes. Mike tells me backstage later that he’s already interviewed one of two candidates.

On break, Barry diplomatically invites me outside for a “heart-to-heart.” He kindly advises me to “quit trying to tell the story with so many facial expressions.” You have the “presence” and the lines and the movements, he notes. “You mean quit ‘mugging’?” I say, cutting to the core, and he bursts out in laughter. I’m guilty as charged of too many expressions while delivering lines or reacting to what is happening on onstage. It is distracting to the story and takes away from others. I’ll have to work hard to control it.

“This play directs itself,” Barry declares at one point admonishing us all to read the playwright’s own stage direction. As clear and inventive as Ken Ludwig is, we definitely know better. “Why do you need me?” Barry adds, but it becomes clear that his role is integral as he talks with each of us about the “rhythm” of the characters’ dialogue and how a “cross” (movement across a portion of the set) must work in sync with and carefully complement the delivery of our lines.

Aug. 17 -The Kiss. Kirk Tatum is still recovering, so “plan B” (plan Barry?) has Mike and me - Saunders and Max - working a critical scene over and over. I’m actually doing it “off book” with the script in my pocket, and it is a liberating feeling. I’m almost hoarse, certainly thirsty, by the seventh or eighth time, but with each repeat, it gets tighter. Barry keeps offering tips on slowing words here, speeding up there, lowering the register (voice tone) here and running instead of walking at one juncture.

“You know your loving it!” he declares. But I won’t admit it yet with anything more than a smile. Later Barry praises me for my posture: “I see these things. I can tell you’re working it, dude.” But the old habit returns and requires a number of tiring restarts.

Ronda Dale/”Julia Leverett” (President of the Opera Guild) works a scene with Emily where Julia is on the phone with the police. Barry suggests she write down the unheard responses so that she will not rush through her lines and required pauses. “Even if the pause is in ‘stage time,’ it must have the feel of a conversation,” he emphasizes.

Emily gets consistent praise from Barry for “pulling off the perky stuff really well. The young kid stuff.” But she’s no “babe in the woods” when it comes to the kissing scene with Mike/”Max,” whom she has mistaken for “Tito.” Barry watches the scene unfold and quickly takes charge, adding a pause, slowing down the tempo, inserting “physicality” of hands, hips, feet movement and voila! Suddenly the scene is less stagy, more romantic and filled with tension and desire and humor not previously exhibited. Actors need directors, period.

At the break, Ronda and I treat all present to slices of pina colada cake to mark our anniversary (8/17). In response to repeated questions, Ronda will only reveal, “More than 25 years; less than 50.”

Aug. 18 - Tatum Update. My e-mail query to Kirk with concern about his health elicits a surprising response and great news from him. “I've come to realize that I can always count on support from you and all my other theatre friends. Another realization is that I'm getting older. You are correct about certain changes in my life. There are going to be changes in diet, exercise, relaxation, and, yes, I will probably be taking some medication. Guess I was being stubborn to the extent that the Big Man Upstairs had to hit me over the head. I'm fine and I'll see you next week.”

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