In actors, the ego is the last organ to fail
The posted order was for the cast to meet at a home in the 1700 block of Oleander Street, Yuba City for a first reading, and a discussion schedules. We did.
So far as I knew – and I generally don’t know much because nobody ever tells me anything, or I’m the last to hear -- two roles remained uncast: the love interest, Tony Kirby, and his mother, my theatrical “wife,” Mrs. Kirby.
Also to be shown at the meeting was the 1938 movie version of “You Can’t Take It with You,” which I had seen long, long ago and retained of it only a sketchy memory.
I knew (or believed I knew) from the movie that Lionel Barrymore and Edward Arnold were the key players in a large, with a young Jimmy Stewart and pre-fame Jeanne Arthur providing the love complication, or “the twist.”
Fat Eddie Arnold portrayed a memorable cinematic villain – greedy, grasping but also good for a laugh whenever the screwy proles in the Sycamore house deflated his haughtiness.
With that in mind, this was the cast list at that point in time:
Alice Sycamore – Ada Schmidt-Sholl
Grandpa Martin Vanderhof – Jim Green
Penny Sycamore – Rayetta Jackson
Paul Sycamore – John Elliott
Essie – Bonnie Williams
Ed – Joe Moye
Mr. De Pinna – Michael Colvin
Rheba – Heidi Ramey
Donald – Chris Ramey
Boris Kolenkhov
Mr. Kirby – Tom Nadeau
Mr. Henderson – Rob Haeberle
Chief G-man – Brian Monette
G-man #2 -- Rob Haeberle
G-man #3 – Chris Ramey
Olga, the duchess – Amber Colvin
Yet to be cast (and maybe they have, and I missed it):
Tony Kirby -- ??
Mrs. Kirby -- ??
Abashed by my poor readings at the try-outs, I was determined to do better, now that the die was cast (as it were) and the chips were down.
Or I would, after I made my entrance, which I hadn’t taken place by the end of Act 1. The play, it turned out, was definitely not like the movie, so I had now idea what I was into here. Remember: ignorance is not bliss, no matter what the cliché
might claim.
But the enforced period of silence of following along with the script and the actors without taking part, was even more humbling that the try-outs. Joe Moye, who had come in on the second night of audition was even better than before.
For that matter, Shawn Measles of the several accents – if he ever gets to Hollywood the first thing they’ll do is cure his last name – already pretty much had Kolenkhov down (at least for that act.)
Finally, on page 47 of the script, the Kirbys made their entrance, causing consternation and rapid movements among the characters on stage – the kind of hasty collection of thoughts, evidence, dirty plates and occasionally clothing that can happen when authority figures pop in unexpectedly.
Then came my fist line spoken in reply to Grandpa:
Kirby: (Uncertainly) How do you do?
I spoke it -- How do you do? -- but not…uncertainly enough, if you ask me. And my readings stayed at that uncertain level, or declined, from there until the imaginary curtain went down on the first rehearsal.
Director Staci Johnson closed the evening with a viewing of the first few minutes of the movie, “You Can’t Take It With You.” And it was then some of my confusion was dispelled.
Yes, indeed, things were more like my memories had them. The whole piece opened with Mr. Kirby, the magnate tycoon pushing his way into the first scene with a gaggle of flunkies behind him From there on he was busy plotting the rip-off of the Defense Department budget, just as I remembered it. Only that was not how Moss and Kaufman had it in the original play.
Fair to say, the Hollywood scriptwriters had diligently expanded some roles, either outn of artistic differences with the original authors, or, more likely, comtract demands by the stars.
It was a difference which might all be for the nest, considering my deliveries to date. Why, examined in a certain light, I had lucked out in a reverse sort of way.
The less seen and heard of me on the stage in The Acting Company’s 2004 production of YCTIWY, the better it might be for the more accomplished actors and directors in the play.
Then again, the ego dies a hard death. In fact, in actors some say it’s last organ to go.
The posted order was for the cast to meet at a home in the 1700 block of Oleander Street, Yuba City for a first reading, and a discussion schedules. We did.
So far as I knew – and I generally don’t know much because nobody ever tells me anything, or I’m the last to hear -- two roles remained uncast: the love interest, Tony Kirby, and his mother, my theatrical “wife,” Mrs. Kirby.
Also to be shown at the meeting was the 1938 movie version of “You Can’t Take It with You,” which I had seen long, long ago and retained of it only a sketchy memory.
I knew (or believed I knew) from the movie that Lionel Barrymore and Edward Arnold were the key players in a large, with a young Jimmy Stewart and pre-fame Jeanne Arthur providing the love complication, or “the twist.”
Fat Eddie Arnold portrayed a memorable cinematic villain – greedy, grasping but also good for a laugh whenever the screwy proles in the Sycamore house deflated his haughtiness.
With that in mind, this was the cast list at that point in time:
Alice Sycamore – Ada Schmidt-Sholl
Grandpa Martin Vanderhof – Jim Green
Penny Sycamore – Rayetta Jackson
Paul Sycamore – John Elliott
Essie – Bonnie Williams
Ed – Joe Moye
Mr. De Pinna – Michael Colvin
Rheba – Heidi Ramey
Donald – Chris Ramey
Boris Kolenkhov
Mr. Kirby – Tom Nadeau
Mr. Henderson – Rob Haeberle
Chief G-man – Brian Monette
G-man #2 -- Rob Haeberle
G-man #3 – Chris Ramey
Olga, the duchess – Amber Colvin
Yet to be cast (and maybe they have, and I missed it):
Tony Kirby -- ??
Mrs. Kirby -- ??
Abashed by my poor readings at the try-outs, I was determined to do better, now that the die was cast (as it were) and the chips were down.
Or I would, after I made my entrance, which I hadn’t taken place by the end of Act 1. The play, it turned out, was definitely not like the movie, so I had now idea what I was into here. Remember: ignorance is not bliss, no matter what the cliché
might claim.
But the enforced period of silence of following along with the script and the actors without taking part, was even more humbling that the try-outs. Joe Moye, who had come in on the second night of audition was even better than before.
For that matter, Shawn Measles of the several accents – if he ever gets to Hollywood the first thing they’ll do is cure his last name – already pretty much had Kolenkhov down (at least for that act.)
Finally, on page 47 of the script, the Kirbys made their entrance, causing consternation and rapid movements among the characters on stage – the kind of hasty collection of thoughts, evidence, dirty plates and occasionally clothing that can happen when authority figures pop in unexpectedly.
Then came my fist line spoken in reply to Grandpa:
Kirby: (Uncertainly) How do you do?
I spoke it -- How do you do? -- but not…uncertainly enough, if you ask me. And my readings stayed at that uncertain level, or declined, from there until the imaginary curtain went down on the first rehearsal.
Director Staci Johnson closed the evening with a viewing of the first few minutes of the movie, “You Can’t Take It With You.” And it was then some of my confusion was dispelled.
Yes, indeed, things were more like my memories had them. The whole piece opened with Mr. Kirby, the magnate tycoon pushing his way into the first scene with a gaggle of flunkies behind him From there on he was busy plotting the rip-off of the Defense Department budget, just as I remembered it. Only that was not how Moss and Kaufman had it in the original play.
Fair to say, the Hollywood scriptwriters had diligently expanded some roles, either outn of artistic differences with the original authors, or, more likely, comtract demands by the stars.
It was a difference which might all be for the nest, considering my deliveries to date. Why, examined in a certain light, I had lucked out in a reverse sort of way.
The less seen and heard of me on the stage in The Acting Company’s 2004 production of YCTIWY, the better it might be for the more accomplished actors and directors in the play.
Then again, the ego dies a hard death. In fact, in actors some say it’s last organ to go.
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