Last night, I had the good fortune to attend the premiere of Noël Coward’s “Private Lives,” an intimate comedy in three acts. The performers were splendid and the staging inspired. After the show, my escort and I retired to a nearby tavern where we regaled the crowd with tales about the glory of theater.
OK, none of that really happened.
The truth is I got stuck having to go see a client perform in an original play called “I’ll Take My Love on the Side.” That title alone probably tells you everything you need to know, but I’ll share some more details just for fun.
I grew up in Chicago, so I’m one of those straight guys who actually loves the theater. And that’s why it saddens me when I’m forced to endure plays that are nothing more than mediocre, unproduced screenplays. “I’ll Take My Love on the Side” was a dull romantic comedy that might’ve worked better in the ’90s as a film with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.
To be clear, the choice of material wasn’t their only mistake. The next one was choosing a space that had no parking. This is a mortal sin in L.A., especially if you expect industry guests to show up. So, stuck with no choice, I parked a few miles away and asked the local street gang to keep an eye on my brand-new Audi.
This forced me to arrive a few minutes late and as I raced into the lobby, I asked the spiky-haired humanoid in the box office where the bathroom was so I could use it before I sat down. She explained the facilities were behind the stage and I would have to wait till intermission to use them.
This is another mortal sin. I hate these spaces. They just make people like me angry, and that’s not what you want when you invite an agent to see you perform.
Now let’s address the acting. When he invited me, my client explained he wasn’t the lead. That privilege belonged to an actor I’ll call Matthew. After about 10 minutes, I realized young Matthew had no business being onstage in front of a paying audience. Watching him perform was the same as drinking warm champagne or smelling a rose that had no perfume.
And that leaves us with my client’s work. He’s the kind of actor who always plays intellectual characters, roles where he’s the smartest guy in the room. That’s just the way he comes off, and his type is very castable. But my client decided to stretch in this show by playing a part that would be a better fit for a stoned Seth Rogen.
Did he pull it off? Well, let’s put it this way: For nearly a century, a company called Alcoa has manufactured the metal used for Coca-Cola cans, bolts for satellites, and the foil wrapped around Hershey’s Kisses. Now that’s what I call range. Sadly, I can’t say the same for my client.
When all is said and done, I’m not sure what he accomplished by asking me to attend this abomination.
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