OF BLACK CATS AND OLD FRIENDS
To prepare for the role I've become thoroughly disreputable looking.
I've allowed all the hair on my body to grow unchecked; I've put away the razor, the scissors, my tweezers, the battery-powered rotary nose hair trimmer bought by my wife (who now bleats at me from time to time mocking my goatish appearance) and now resemble someone you'd find on a late-night Sunday BART train.
The rehearsal process of Lieutenant of Inishmore has been glorious fun for me; I'm not often cast in this character type and I don't often do roles that are purely or mostly comic in nature but I fell into it with an amazing ease and have laughed more in this short span than I have in years. Les Waters, our Director, would shake his head in delighted wonder and say "It's so stupid! And I laugh every time!"
The term "Blood Mortar" was a little daunting to those of us who were to experience it's effects, but we were blessedly introduced to those effects early on in the process; our 3 Irish thugs all got life casts of their faces (which is an experience vaguely akin to being buried alive) before rehearsals started and Steve Tolin, our special effects man and super-hero, made frequent appearances explaining the way the bleeding bodies came apart, where blood packs would be and demonstrating the Gore Cannon on himself.
Steve would stand in front of a 15' wall that had plastic sheeting affixed to a height of about 9' with himself duct-taped into a clear plastic skirt which covered his lower half but left torso and head exposed, and press a red button. The first time the mortar didn't fire. The second time there was a moose-like honk from the mortar and Steve was, in a microsecond, blasted in the face with a spray of blood which went a good 11' up the wall. It's tricky onstage--one person fires a gun and the other tries to trigger the cannon at exactly the same instant--ideally, the firing guns cover the "PHAARnnnk!" from the device.
I must add a note of praise for our most excellent crew here--we could not do this show without their focus and expertise; they stand backstage before the scene 8-9 shift for a full minute with their eyes closed before rushing on in the blackout to strew blood, body parts and dismembering implements liberally across the stage as the actors are splashing themselves with stage blood in the dark--terrifying the first time I saw it, even with the lights up. But it's a testament to their skill that no one's been hurt and all elements are magically there every night. This same group then cleans up the 12 some gallons of blood, brains, body parts and sodden clothing every night after the show requiring an additional hour of cleanup and laundry. Many, many thanks to them.
In the course of rehearsals and performance we have become one of those blessed events--a finely tuned, supportive cast and crew made up of fun, funny and talented people who all care for each other and work their uttermost to make the show succeed, making it all the harder for me to leave......
Shortly after we opened Inishmore I started rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet at California Shakespeare Theatre but Inishmore has received such good press that its now extending--into my tech week for R & J, knocking me out of the extension week. My fellow actors are very professional about it--they'll go into rehearsals with the understudy who seems a fine man. Patrick. I hear he's terrific and to top it off, he's really Irish. The very least I can say is Thank you Les, Karen, and goodbye you bunch of Goobs; the most I could say would take far too long to write. I love yez and I'll miss yez. To Patrick I raise my glass and shout "Fill yer boots, Man!" I wish you joy in the role and people.
For the curious, Bella, our show cat who plays Wee Thomas, has an understudy as well and she happens to belong to me, or rather, I to her; my plump, round and black as a cannonball Princess sits with me as I compose this blog/goodbye/note of thanks, her head stuffed deeply into my armpit, purring happily. She knows that I have "Bella sessions" and that I play string with other cats than herself yet has endured my consorting with other female black cats (and the practising of my lines by means of cooing into her ear in an Irish accent) with a certain studied disdain; she, I think, is not sorry I'll be leaving the show. And though she makes only the rare appearance -- usually in our neighbour's potted plants -- she's let me know in that certain way that felines will, that were SHE ever to go on for the other black kitty...................she would be bloody breathtaking.