25/12/2001

One of my students recently acquired a central role in a local and successful repertory company's season opener for 2002. A Neil Simon I think it was. And I heard a lot of positive response to his success in scoring the part. Most of it centred around him being a talented and creative young man, praise which I might add is as accurate as Michael Diamond. But maybe I heard one too many times the phrase "Awwwrrr geeeeez- he's sooooooo talented" being hurled around the traps. This really grates with me. It implies that talent alone was the sole cosmic, god-given gift bestowed on his fortunate head because he happened to be at the right place at the right time.

To quote my Year 10 Maths teacher, "Balls, poop and chewing gum".

I'm sure the student in question would not mind if I divulge a little more on the topic, as he probably shares the opinion of my mathematical mentor above. The trouble with a lot of disgruntled actors about town is that they are perennially pissed off that nobody has recognised their talents (real and perceived) and they subsequently spend a lot of time wandering and wondering why the hell they haven't yet "won" that big, sensational role which would allow them to showcase their 'talent' more visibly on the Bigger Better Stage.

In "An Imaginary Girlfriend", American author John Irving recounts his childhood wrestling coach telling him that "Talent is overrated. That you're not talented needn't be the end of it." I share these sentiments. But where exactly does one start if opportunity's doors are constantly being shut in an eager-beaver's unappreciated face?

Not wishing to sound like some antiquated rustic farmhand moaning about how he used to plough the fields at 5.00am and sell cows for beanstalks (which as we all know kids these days do at the keyboard accessing cattlecare-dot-com and www.virtual.farmscape), the answer is pretty simple : just work hard and "be around"... and chances will come.

The student in question spent the good part of 2001 "hanging around" the theatre. And while chances to express his talents were rather minimal, the time spent in and around theatrical and creative living helped build his web of experiences and reference points (let alone contacts in the industry) so that he could eventually place a fatter, fuller, more empathic foot in the door when it finally inched open.

For example, he accepted a small role as the vendor in "A Streetcar Named Desire" - and let's face it, the line "Red Hoooooots" incessantly repeated in a southern drawl has only so much you can effectively and enjoyably do with it. Yet in the process, this pupil became acquainted with a 20th-century classic he hadn't previously known and he witnessed first-hand the inherent difficulties of staging a Tennessee Williams in the 2'st century. It also introduced him to the phenomena that is Marlon Brando (yes, he discovered tubby ol' Marlon had done more substantial work than "Free Money", "Superman" and "The Godfather"); he found himself in the centre of heated debates on characterisation and motivation between the volatile cast at rehearsal; it allowed him to note the highs and lows of effective and ineffective dialogue, accents and interpretations; it displayed to him the importance of designing the set true to the playwright's intentions (on a minimal budget); and all this while dressing Stanley Kowalski in some tight scene changes (and singlets). He watched the preparations of the actors, including the lead actor's bizarre ritual of running through the whole show, on stage, in his head, while doing bicep curls before every performance.

He then worked backstage for the ensuing season of David Mamet's "Glengarry Glen Ross", again becoming intimately familiar with a more contemporary and controversial classic, while soaking in the ambience, workings and dynamics of a stellar and incendiary cast and production team. And in those long moments between scene shifting, he was picking up and skimming through books which actors had left laying around backstage while they went out and "burnt at the stake" (to quote the adorable lunatic Antonin Artaud). I remember seeing copies of such classics as "Free Association" by Berkoff, "Burton on Burton", Barry Ween, fiction by Louis de Berniere, the overrated "Not Just Footy", "True and False : Heresy and Common Sense for the Actor" by man-of-the-moment Mamet and a collection of Pinter Plays demanding to be devoured in the dark between scenes-changes. He next witnessed first-hand the fireworks which flew in the foyer after the director got up the nose of some audience members by refusing a curtain-call. And the student then began to formulate some opinions of his own on the nature of theatre and the purpose of audiences...

From there, while workshopping and fermenting many scripts and concepts for animated features, small films and play contests, this young, hypercreative mind found the time to take the lead in his school's production of an unfashionable Shakespeare classic while producing the Year 10 Video and ending the year as MC at the formal. Amazing you say? The creatively restless somehow find a way of fitting - no, squeezing-in - a lot of living when they have to do so.

While other artistes are whining about not being appreciated for their art, the truly passionate artists are appreciating, practising and doing it instead.

In the early eighties, New York director/producer Joseph Papp had an overly keen assistant who, along with completing all the office chores, had accepted a small role in "Henry IV Part 1" which was being staged as part of the Shakespeare in Central Park. The assistant delivered his six lines with gusto. Papp eventually fired the eager beaver after seeing him in an Off Broadway production, obviously thinking the best thing for this young actor would be for him to widen his horizons and increase his theatrical experience elsewhere.

Within a year, the office assistant would be acting opposite Liv Ullman in John Neville's acclaimed revival of Ibsen's "Ghosts". A little while later, the "eager beaver" would be chosen as an understudy for Mike Nicholl's Broadway debut of David Rabe's controversial new hit play "Hurly Burly" at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre. Backstage and restless, the keen and aspiring actor remained discontent with learning only one characterisation and subsequently understudied every male character in the play while continuing to "learn the ropes" in the Big Smoke. (The sharp-toothed beaver eventually followed in the footsteps of Christopher Walken and Ron Silver, assuming the role of Mickey which in 1999 he reprised in Anthony Drazan's film version of the play.) He must have learned the ropes very well at the Barrymore, as by 1991 he had earned (and I deliberately say "earned" as opposed to "won") a Tony Award for his work (and I deliberately say "work" as opposed to "play") in Neil Simon's "Lost in Yonkers".

Neil Simon was it? How serendipitous.

But I guess whether you're a Dan Jobson or a Kevin Spacey, the point I make here is still the same. Talent is not everything. It can help, sure... But if you're prepared to work hard and passionately, repress the ego and do some hard yards while just being 'in and around' the creative process, then some of its magic has got to rub off on you.

And it will eventually give you that "break" which you have not "won", but earned. Fair and square.