Tag Archives: New York University

Theater for All Ages

30 Dec

Last month, in a span of one week, I saw a children’s theater show, a high school play and an evening of theater by my peers. I had an equally great time at all three. I never felt so inspired, invigorated and proud.

The first was the LA Children’s Theater production of The Frog Prince directed by an actor friend of mine and included my actor boyfriend in the cast. Though I was not of the audience mean age of 5, I thoroughly enjoyed this colorful, musical production. It excited me so much (here comes the nerdy theater geek in me) to see a fresh crop of potentially theater-going, theater-loving and perhaps theater-performing people! To watch these little kids take delight in a story unfolding before their eyes was as entertaining as the play itself. (It reminded me when I was first captivated by the magic of theater when I went for my 5th birthday party to the Santa Monica Playhouse production of Cinderella) They loved set, the costumes, the music, the characters and the audience involvement. At certain points throughout the play, the kids were invited to be a part of the story. This kind of audience participation, I believe, should not be limited to children’s theater. Everyone likes to feel included, at 5 or 55. It’s something my theater company PianoFight values and includes in practically every show they produce. Anyway, I saw the show twice- opening and closing and both times I had a blast.

The second was Viewpoint School‘s high school production of The Cherry Orchard directed by my high school theater teacher and now colleague. Watching teens perform at the school and at the age when I truly fell in love with theater was sort of… nostalgic. And watching them perform on a state of the art stage with a professional set and costumes was sort of… bitter sweet. I did not have those things when I was there, nor will I perform on a stage like that for a long time. I tell my high school students all the time to appreciate what they’ve got now because after school it will be a while before they’ll ever experience that level of production again… unless they go straight to Broadway. But whether or not they realize that or whether or not they’ll ever act again, it was so exciting to see young people, who have their whole lives ahead of them filled with infinite possibilities, perform. That amidst SATs and APs, and despite the inevitable judgement of select high school jocks and what nots, they’ve chosen to spend their precious after school hours, free periods and weekends to study Chekhov, memorize lines and act!

The third was a collection of original one acts produced and acted by fellow actors who were in the Atlantic Theater program at NYU with me (but actually stuck it through). The inaugural class of the Atlantic LA program formed a production company, Acorn Pictures, upon graduation and though their primary focus is film, once a year “unplug” for an evening of live theater. Again, I sat, excited, in anticipation of experiencing the original writing, directing and performances of my peers. Some of the people involved were in the same group as me my very first year at NYU and in the past couple of years have reconnected and been involved with my own productions. Against the so-called odds and despite the millions of people who have moved to LA to “make it” they’re out there creating their own stuff and rightfully showing it off. This excites me to no end. Because, for one, it’s aways exciting watching people go after what they love and two, it means I can do it too. This is possible. We are all out there doing it and one day one of us is going to make it and that means we all did.

The Truth about “Liars”

5 Feb

Wednesday night I had the great privilege of seeing a special screening of the indie movie, The Four-Faced Liar, fresh off the film fest circuit including Slamdance.

What was so awesome about watching this movie, was the way it made me feel: my dream is attainable. Here I was, sitting in this special screening room in Beverly Hills, and I know the person who wrote, starred and produced the movie, one of the stars of the movie is a dear friend, two people who auditioned for my show last week were in the audience, along with two people who were actually in my show last year, and then the person I sit next to happened to be someone from my first year at NYU and then on the way out we bump into a anther actor-friend from my theater company in LA. There were so many connections. And it made me feel, I am in the right place. (Not physically, but figuratively of course. I mean, Beverly Hills aint really my scene).

Don’t get me wrong… there was the flip side to all this too. Let’s be honest here. It was tough sitting in the audience looking up at a screen that, in essence, could’ve had me on it. But that’s the cool part, really. That’s what makes me feel like it’s so attainable. Those are my peers. And they are making it happen. Which means, so can I.

As Fate Would Have It

11 Jan

August 2002: NY, NY. It’s my first week living in NYC. I’m nervous, excited, scared, anxious and a million other things, as I gear up for my first year of college.

I’m standing in line to retrieve my student ID, along with twenty or thirty other anxious freshmen. The hot, humid air has us all a little impatient and bored as we look around, flip through our new text books or fiddle with our phones. I’m lost in my own thoughts, absorbing my new surroundings until…

I feel a tap on my shoulder as a friendly young man asks, “So, you’re from California?”

I turn to reply, “Yes. How did you know?”

“Your license,” he says pointing to my California driver’s license I have already in hand, ready to go so as to not waste any time when my turn arrives.

“Oh,” I say, a little embarrassed, but regain my composure. “Are you also from California?”

“Yeah, actually, I am. I’m from southern California.”

“Me too!” I say, excitedly, to find someone to relate to, however superficial the relation. You cling to these little morsels of commonality when alone and new in a big city like New York. In fact, this man had a comforting familiarity to him. Maybe it was just a SoCal thing? “What part?” I continue.

“The valley.”

“Me too!” I say again, with increased enthusiasm.

“Where in the valley did you grow up?” he asks.

“Sherman Oaks,” I answer, the sense of familiarity growing stronger.

“Me too!” the friendly young man says with equal gusto as my previous exclamations.

“Where did you go to school?” I ask.

“Buckley.”

Then it hits me. “Me too.”

This strangely familiar, friendly looking young man was Marc Smollin, aka Seymour Krelboyne from the first theatrical production I ever saw in my life: Little Shop of Horrors. I had never met him, only seen him on stage. First in Little Shop and then in all the high school plays following until he graduated. There he was, in real life, standing in front of me, waiting in line to get his student ID as a freshman of Tisch graduate school, a program that accepts only 18 students each year.

“Are you Marc,” I ask, “Marc Smollin?”

“Yes,” he says, surprised and maybe even a little creeped out, who knows.

“I saw you in Little Shop of Horrors when I was in the third grade. You’re the reason I’m here. I’m majoring in Acting…”

We proceed to talk about the Buckley years, how he’s enrolled in Tisch’s grad school acting program, how I’m starting at Atlantic Theater Company and other small talk.

As I walked away, with new student ID in hand, I couldn’t help but think that that moment was fate. It was a sign, that I was following the right dream.

During those days or weeks I feel down, discouraged, overwhelmed by this profession I think back to that moment to get through the rough patch. However silly it may be, holding onto those 5 minutes and other little “signs” are great reminders and reinforcers of why I am going after this dream.

And guess what? Even he didn’t give up on his dreams– looks like his performing will never stop. And, look, I’m not the only one referring back to this little ‘ol high school production: http://articles.latimes.com/2008/dec/25/local/me-knittery25.

Oh, and Marc, if you’re out there reading this, I apologize for seeming like a stalker. But you marked a significant moment of my life, little did you know…