No, It’s Spelled T-H-E-A-T-R-E

by James Roland on September 26, 2006

in Fenceposts

No, It’s Spelled T-H-E-A-T-R-E
by James Roland

Six years ago, when apes leapt before monoliths, and dinosaurs noticed the air was getting a little nippy, I learned to love the theatre.

I even tried my hand at acting. I could never muster the courage to audition until Doug Kerr, resident director and all-around theatre guru of Pierce Community College, offered me a ‘walk-on’ in Eugene O’Neil’s Desire Under the Elms.

I remember stepping out under those lights for the first time. I remember the glint of audience eyeballs in the dark as I climbed on stage. I remember when the audience faded away and I was left in Neverland . . .

I quit theatre when I went to ‘real’ college. The years passed. I moved to L.A.

And, lo and behold, along rolls 2006.

Just last week I went and saw a still small voice at the Complex Theatre in Hollywood. At first I was afraid I’d lost my happy thought. Years of movies and television had erased my sensibilities. The pauses of plays, the clump of feet on stage, and the backlit spittle of a passionate soliloquy seemed so childish to me. I mean, what’s with all that pretending?

But I found my happy thought again, somewhere in the first half hour. Maybe it was the inanely hilarious quarrel over decaf coffee or the three-way banter war between a cardigan toting ex catholic, an ex male hooker, and a caustic bum with a fake leg. Maybe it was the breath-stopping performances from all four actors, each one alternating between rapid-fire verbal combat and theatre-silencing monologues. Maybe it was the clever script by Mitch Hale that manages to make you love characters that would, in real life, make you roll your eyes so hard you could read the tag on the back of your LA hipster retro t-shirt.

Whatever it was, it hooked me and didn’t let me go until it was time for me to clap and time for them to take a much deserved bow. I wanted to jump the seat backs and join the actors; for an hour and a half they gave me my happy thought.

Now if I can just remember how to fly . . .

SHOW INFO:

a still small voice
by Mitch Hale

Evening shows Thursday – Sunday until October 8th.
Tickets: $20.00

Complex (Ruby) Theatre
Multiple Stages
6476 Santa Monica Blvd
Hollywood, CA 90038

Valet Parking and Street Parking

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