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| Caroline Thomas, Ron Megason and Nick Brigadier at work on I Wouldn't Open That Can of Worms If I Were You You'll Only Be Disappointed |
I’ve been
away from this blog for the last few months. Such a lot going on! Getting two stories edited for publication on a CD, produced by the Hamm and Clov
Stage Company, and now on the shelves of the Yonkers Public Library. I was one
of the authors invited by the Artistic Director of Hamm and Clov, Holly
Villaire, to participate in a public reading at the library prior to their
inclusion in the collection. This involved many hours of preparation, as I'm
not familiar with reading non-dramatic material into a microphone. My degree
of difficulty with this technique surprised me! Then again, I’m
usually a slow learner- no doubt this contributes to my patience as an acting teacher … Speaking of teaching, I’m very
pleased to relate that my current group of students is auditioning a lot and frequently
booking jobs. Please take a look at my website for more
information on this happy subject.
The main thrust of this blog, however, is my participation with a former
student, Ron Megason – we go back thirty years – in preparing his
autobiographical play, I Wouldn't Open That Can of Worms If I Were You You'll Only Be Disappointed, for The United Solo Festival. A brief history of that project: last Fall, Ron and I went to
see Juno and the Paycock- a beautiful production of this fabulous play by Sean O'Casey at the Irish Rep- and afterwards Ron took me out to dinner. I was
soon in stitches listening to his inexhaustible supply of cruel mishaps and horrifying
tragedies that have threaded an unusually eccentric pattern through his years on this planet . Ron is brilliant at
spinning misery into delectable entertainment. He can sit across from you, dissolved in tears, while you laugh your head off- and you don’t feel guilty
because you know his greatest pleasure in life is exercising his gift as a raconteur.
Our
conversation that night centered on a theme from his life with which I was intimately
familiar. As far back as the mid-eighties when I first knew him, Ron had longed
to go to Greece and find his birth mother. But he could never quite get up the
nerve- or find the resources to make the journey. After his adoptive mother
died and left him a bit of money, he was determined to follow through. But even
then there were delays, due to the illness and imminent demise of Ron’s
landlady of twenty-eight years, with whom he bickered endlessly, but to whom he
was deeply attached- along with her adorable poodle, Mootsie, over whom Ron fretted day
and night when the poor thing’s owner was bed-ridden and barely able to breathe,
let alone take care of a dog. But finally he did succeed in making the journey- and it was quite an adventure!
I know a thing or two about Greece, since at one time I’d been married to a Greek- and Ron and I had often
talked of my strong attraction to its beauty and rich history. I
had stayed in touch with a brilliant Greek theatre director, Nikaiti Kontouri-
also a former student (as I write this, her current production of Aeschylus’ The Persians is being performed at
Epidaurus) and had given Ron her name as a contact. She gave him
encouragement in his two-week, whirlwind, barely believable miraculous
achievement of reaching his family and finding his birth mother, after all
these years.
Our
conversation that evening differed considerably from others of the same sort
we’d had over many decades. Due to an improvisation class for gay people, Ron
was now able to wear – no, not wear, shall we say instead ‘flaunt’ - self-doubt
on his sleeve for all to examine. As he recounted all the deaths, setbacks and
insults he had endured recently, I saw that a real actor had emerged
from the lovely boy who had wandered into my acting class so many decades ago.
The same warmth and concern for others was still present, but now he was a
velvet hand ensconced in a glove of comic steel. Ron would no doubt describe it
as ‘Bold and Salty Truth’ with a molten chocolate center. It occurred to me immediately
that his was a story ready-made for theatre. I had suggested that he should create a
one-man show for himself.
And now a few months later, Ron told me that he had been accepted into the United
Solo Festival. He had borrowed the
fee from a friend; of course, the restaurant where he had been earning a
tolerable salary chose that exact moment to close down. Simultaneously, the
relatives of his deceased landlady were peppering him with outrageously illegal
tactics, trying to strip him of his rights as a rent-controlled tenant. When
Ron told me of his acceptance into the Festival, he requested that I take on
the role of script consultant. I enthusiastically accepted- the director he had
chosen was already ‘in the bag.’ Only, of course, with Ron’s luck, he got out
of the bag as soon as the booking was definite. And this is how the script
consultant became the director- as well as co-writer. Ron’s notes from improv
class were absolutely brilliant- however a script they did not make. So here I
am, co-writer and director – and loving every minute of it. I’m doubly- maybe
triply- happy because my husband, Robert Benes, and daughter, Elissa J. Benes, are
the lighting and sound designers, as well as creating three ‘structures’ which
represent Ron’s three ‘mothers’, and serve as chairs, tables, etc. And last,
but very much not least, we have the incomparable Nick Brigadier- whom Ron
‘discovered’ at the Apple Store – who is indispensable as Assistant Director
and Stage Manager.
Come
one, come all! If we fill the house on Wednesday, September 24th,
3:30 PM, we get another show, so please reserve your ticket…
In
my next entry, I’ll go into our writing process- and the thrill of working with
someone who has Ron Megason's originality, veracity, courage and sheer energy!
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