Back in the Big Apple.
It was truly magnificent to be back in NYC, working on my new solo play "RADICAL," inspired by the life and work of Dr. Thomas Sowell.
Learned a lot from this iteration (the first public showing).
The script changed drastically in just one week of work--
New scenes written, old scenes scrapped and re-arranged. A stressful but invigorating process.
The work is off to a fantastic start, and shaping up to be something special (and timely!).
Thanks to Studio Tisch for a marvelous event, thanks to everyone who came to offer feedback and support, and thanks to everyone who backed this idea in the first place.
Onward and upward!
CD
There shouldn't be 70,000 unsold tickets for the Met Opera. I applaud @NYCMayor giving them away.
Access to one of Earth's finest cultural institutions—even for a night—is unquestionably a social good.
The arts are vital to a healthy society. Visionary leaders understand that.
Summer of 2012 I'm doing a show out in San Diego, and Joseph Marcell just so happened to be working on a different show at the same theatre.
One night after work we wind up on the same shuttle, going back to the actor apartments.
Soon after we're riding along (so he can't escape) I say:
"Hey, I know you—"
Obviously, growing up I'd seen Mr. Marcell countless times on "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air."
But some years before tonight I'd also seen him play an excellent Friar Laurence in Washington DC.
So I lead with that.
"You're that guy from 'Romeo & Juliet!'"
He laughs.
We talk about what shows we're working on.
I suppress that I find it kind of cool to be sharing a post-work commute with someone I grew up watching on TV.
We exchange numbers, hope to meet up for coffee sometime.
I never see him again.
The randomness of it makes me think about all the coincidences that have to happen just for two people's stories to intersect for one moment in time.
Joseph Marcell, Saint Lucian-British stage and screen actor, and comedian, born 78 years ago today on 14 Aug 1948, in Castries, #SaintLucia. Best known as Geoffrey Butler in NBC sitcom “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” (1990-96). #Caribbean
https://t.co/jOLRsYUyYX
When I was 20 and told my grandmother I was going to be an actor, she was horrified.
"Baby...WHAT?
What if it don't work out??!
Whatchu gonna do then????"
A year later, she'd flown all the way from California to visit us in Virginia.
I'd nailed my first ever professional audition, getting cast as the romantic lead in a ridiculously daffy musical called "Where's Charley?"
Oma comes to a matinee.
Afterward I meet the family in the parking lot.
She's over the moon:
"OHHHHH BABY!
YOU GO ON!
GO ON AND BE AN ACTOR!"
Of course, she made sure to warn me:
"But don't you be no CLOWN.
You better be like DENZEL,
Not that fool, WILL SMITH."
To this day, hers remains the most important endorsement I ever got.
She died a few years before she could see her grandson sharing stages with some of Broadway's best and brightest.
But of all the ways my Oma spoiled me, the greatest gift she gave me was her blessing.
I miss her every day.
Daniel Craig offered a really different take on 007.
So did Pierce Brosnan, Tim Dalton, Roger Moore and Sean Connery.
Different actors working with different creative teams, all reflecting the aesthetic of the era in which they worked.
Let's see where they land with this.
In 1995 an action-comedy with 2 black leads grossed $290M on a $36M budget and launched a billion-dollar franchise.
No one was outraged.
No one protested.
No one cared.
Wild to hear that audiences hate diversity now.
Back in the 90s they clearly didn't care.
What changed?
One summer I got cast in a principal role in a developmental workshop for a Broadway-bound musical.
On the day of our final presentation, while waiting for things to begin, I glanced from behind the scenes at the people gradually filling the several dozen or so seats packed into the studio space.
My eye landed on a very distinguished-looking older gentleman sitting in the first row of several dozen seats.
Probably some producer, I figured. Thought nothing else of it.
Presentation comes and goes. People mill about, cast and crew say goodbyes.
I rush for the elevator.
A voice yells "THERE YOU ARE," from down the hall.
It was our director's wife, scoot-running in short skirt and high heels to catch me before I disappear into the elevator.
"I'm so glad I caught you before you left!"
She explained that the distinguished gent in the front row was her husband's "good friend."
She said that during one of my big scenes, Mr. Good Friend leaned over to his own wife, nodded at me and said "Now, THAT guy's got it."
Then she told me who the distinguished Friend was, and I was stunned.
The rehearsal process had been miserable and I just wanted to forget that any of this had ever happened.
But I still showed up on the day, and did what I do best.
The director's wife wanted to make sure I knew about the feedback I'd gotten, specifically because of who'd given it:
It was the late Christopher Plummer.
I have to think back to this day and remind myself to always do my best.
You never know who's paying attention.