Day 5 -- Tuesday January 20

At last, the taping day. All the jokes that have been reworked and rehashed and rehearsed for the last four days would finally be put before an audience. I arrived at Stage 25 on the Paramount lot at 11am all gung-ho and ready to go! But first...

A tech rehearsal was already underway. We ran through each scene twice so the camera blocking could be rehearsed. Not much new, interesting stuff happened in this phase. It was much more for the technical aspects of the show than for the performances. That was followed by a run-through in costume in the order we would shoot that night. Many producers and writers and staff people were on hand for that. There were some notes and feedback, but nothing for me as usual. And then we broke for lunch. Or, more accurately, I broke for nap.

At 4:15pm, I was awakened and sent groggily to make-up and hair. In the make-up room, Bebe and David were getting made up as well and running the second half of the show, so I jumped in with my occasional knocking and lines. Just like we were about to go out there for opening night of the big play. Of course, this would also be closing night for our show, regardless of how successful it might be.

I then went back to the green room and relaxed for a bit. At 5:30pm, Kelsey went into make-up signifying the beginning of the final run-through of the lines in the make-up room. Again, running lines right before going on reminds me of putting up shows at Harvard in just barely enough time to make it all presentable, but right before opening night, you know there's a handful of places in the script where you could end up floundering for the words or even just that one word that would trigger the rush of lines aching to leave your brain, but instead you stand slightly dumb-founded wondering how much to make up while you wait for the right line to emerge from the dark recesses of your brain.

But none of that here in sitcom-land. If you go up on lines, you ask for it and go back a couple lines and take another run at it. Yeah, not quite as exciting, but you can't have everything, I guess.

I think I may have mentioned how I consider a day in which no one yells at me to be a very successful one. In fact, I would say that during every job I have had as an actor, I have gotten yelled at by somebody at some point in the process. Well, here I sat only hours from going on, and as yet, no one from the cast and crew of Frasier has had occasion to get steamed at me. Feeling pretty good. We start the run-through of lines...

Now, at school and even in theater in L.A., I feel like I have a pretty good feel for when I can be a little goofy and not ruffle too many feathers, specifically when we're just running lines on a project. And so maybe my "ohh-kays" had a little extra flourish, and maybe my last moment was embellished with some extra goofball noises, but I felt I was within the bounds of reason and even amused my co-stars with the flourishes. Fun, yes? Well...

I realized later that this was probably the closest I had come to getting yelled at, but not because I was goofing around, per se, but there was an undercurrent of concern, unbeknownst to me, that I would not "deliver the goods," so to speak, once we were up in front of the audience. Nothing personal, just a general fear of the guy in the small part not following through with the week's accomplishments and putting on a successful performance come game time. And although no one said a word at the time, I wonder, looking back now, if the director, David Lee, was beginning to grow concerned that I was about to snap and try to turn this episode of Frasier into a spin-off about the Room Service Waiter. But at the time, I knew nothing and escaped without getting yelled at.

And at last, it was show time! ...but not really for me. They had to shoot a scene from another episode before starting tonight's episode. So I stood by, off to the side on the stage floor with the writers and producers and gleefully watched my co-workers in action. It all ran smoothly and then we moved on to the next show. Yes, it was show time! ...but not really for me. I don't appear in the first half of the episode so it meant more waiting and watching. I took a couple of different perches, down on the floor, off to the side of the audience, behind the audience on the back of the bleachers, just roaming around trying to stay busy and loose. Finally, Mark, the second A.D. tracked me down and asked me down to the stage floor and I went and put on the rest of my costume. My time was approaching.

But there was a break in the action so I located my friends Terry and Kellie in the audience. They were being summoned off to the side by Cathy Reinking, a friend of ours who works in Jeff Greenberg's office, the casting office for the show. I went up the back stairs of the bleachers into the house and stood off to the side talking with the three of them. And after a few minutes of gabbing, it happened. Oh, did it happen. Jeff Greenberg himself came up the backstairs and approached us. I looked up and anticipated the words of encouragement and well-wishing, but the look on his face belied that eventuality. He was not there to praise. He was not there to bolster. No, my time had in fact come. It was time for my Frasier yelling.

And yes, it is a stretch to refer to it as yelling because he never really raised his voice, but the delivery was very dry, very stern, and without ambiguity, "You are SO not supposed to be up here right now." My heart sank. Why, right before my scene, did I have to land myself in this predicament? I guess I should have known or maybe should have asked somebody if it would be OK to be up there. But I didn't. I had just assumed it wouldn't be a problem. And in my defense, Cathy didn't know, either, but I should have inquired, and if nothing else, now I know. So I muttered out a weak apology and beat a hasty retreat down the steps to the stage floor and tried to put this untimely drubbing as far from the creative part of my brain as possible. And one might argue that I could rest easy now, because I had gotten the yelling out of the way. Time to look ahead.

And eventually it was actually my turn to go on. The big scene was up. The hotel room adventure that would comprise the entire second half of the episode, and that would introduce to the world, Charles the noble Room Service Waiter. They began the scene, revealing the big surprise to the audience, who loved it. Good laughs. Reset. Waiter in place. And go...

I had, as you know, three little scenes within the one big scene. The first had only one laugh line in it and it was a success. Good start. I found myself surprisingly relaxed. It had gone so smoothly all week and this night was no exception. My second scene had a couple of laugh-lines in it and they again went over very well. This was the dangerous scene because I was really going for the jokes and there is always a good chance that the audience won't respond to the guest actors. They've come to see the big guns and can be difficult to persuade to laugh at the nobodies. But laugh they did and heartily. My third scene ends the show. I walked in and said my two little lines and then looked around the room. HUGE, MONSTER LAUGHS! Long, drawn-out laughter. I stood there, waiting for the audience to die down so I could deliver my line to end the show. I waited... waited... waited... and did it. Success.

They called cut and I walked back onto the set. David Hyde Pierce was there first to congratulate me on a job well done. "Very nice last bit," he offered, "You rode it like a surfer," referring to waiting out the audience. Bebe also gave me a quick 'Congrats' as we waited to go again. Everyone seemed very happy and it proved to be what we all suspected-- a hilarious scene.

As I stood behind the flats waiting for the scene to begin again, a gentleman appeared from around the corner, seeking me out. "John, hi, I'm David Angell, one of the executive producers," he began with a relatively somber tone and I had to catch myself from just blurting out an apology for being up in the audience. I felt it was a little inappropriate to send the executive producer to scold me right in the middle of the show, but, hey, this is big time television, so I let him continue. "I just wanted to let you know that we have certainly been very happy with your work all week, but we are especially happy that your performance tonight was just the way you had been doing it all week. You found a way that worked and you stuck with it. I know it sounds simple, but it's not that common and I just wanted to let you know what a great job we think you're doing." And so I asked him if I could go into the audience for just five minutes or so.

Of course, I thanked him and he repeated a bit of what he had said, so I added, "Thanks for cursing the second run-through." I think he laughed. Maybe just a smile. If nothing else, he at least didn't yell at me. And we ran the scene again and the laughs were good again and everyone was extremely pleased both with the scene in general and the waiter in particular. We lined up for the curtain call and I got handshakes and hugs from the cast in thanks for being there. It was all very heart-warming and life-affirming. And it was a great time.

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