"John Ducey. Raffaele," is the message that crooned into my ear this afternoon. "I'm gonna have a problem making it this evening, but the play will go up." This would continue the general atmosphere of the play up to this point. And then, he launched into some high-energy clichés: "Just...ah...KNOCK 'EM DEAD! BREAK A LEG! You're the BEST." And I guess he felt it was best to leave it at that. "Bye."

Now, my feelings going into this evening's performance were ones of increasing hope. Raffaele did, in fact, begin to provide occasional guidance, and as we settled into our roles, the play began to show some possibilities. It was a bit monotonous, but was starting to actually be a bit funny. As far as my character, I had created a "science-fiction writer" in the absurd sense, half Shelby, half Jason Tomarken. He had become a snotty little pest that was either going to be a big hit or a huge flop. I was concerned people would dislike the cliché two-dimensions I was taking on. There was no going back now, not after Raffaele's rousing words of encouragement on my service.

We arrived at 6 p.m. to rehearse and it was a mess - dropped lines, forgotten lines, mangled lines, missed cues - just poor all around. But, let us remember: Bad dress, good opening. And it was.

The play (or act) proceeded without any major problems. Jonathan blanked a couple times, as did Cynthia, but things never noticeably slowed down. Even the solid Frank Doyno "I-know-all-my-lines" Chapa found himself in the dark during his "Motherhood" monologue, and in the panic, skipped a couple of lines. Not to brag, but I think I accomplished everything I was supposed to. All 4 of us really pulled through.

The company liked it. A couple people gave me especially nice praise - great character, perfect timing - and one said the act kept escalating higher and higher, beyond his expectations. He is eager to see what Act 2 could possibly hold.

And that was the consensus: Let's see it all. Go for it. And so the next play I will be appearing in, if all goes as planned (and you can't count on that) will be Temps by Tom Eagan.

Go on to Act II Preview.

Temps | L.A. Stage | Resume