Tag Archives: murder

Good EEEEEEEEve’ning

11 Aug


He never got an Oscar, but he’s m’top choice of subject for my final, 365th blog of the year.

…That’s right, tonight is IT, sweeties.  I’ve done did it.

A blog a day for one full year.

…Come rain, shine, sleet, snow…come crap-days or fine, during rehearsals and shows…two a.m., midnight, or noon-thirty…every day: a blog.  Something.  Prob’ly not great, but there…as I promised they would be. 

…And tonight, instead of focusing on what in the hell it all means in retrospect, I’ve decided not to.  Mostly because (in keeping with the trend of a lot of these entries), I haven’t the time.

…I’m studying, you see.  Up to my chin in show prep, I’m twenty films deep into the Major General of Maguffin: Mr. Hitchcock himself.  Taking notes like a good girl on all the intimate, insider details of his famous blonde Divas and their particular brand of “yum.” (Not to mention his love affair with the naughty villain Dames.) It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with his most famous of trademarks (second only to his profile)…but undertaking becoming three of them, requires a new swipe at the film stock, with a new filter in focus. 

I have always been a GIANT Hitch fan.  His sick little macabre sense of humor, his constant re-invention of the cinematic wheel, the thumbprints he uses on scripts he shoots…and how many ways he can manage to make “murder” and “suspense” one of the sexiest foreplays EVER, made him a favorite from day-one. 

…I’m already holding his early Hollywood classics like “Rebecca,” “Notorious,” “Spellbound,” “Suspicion” and “Shadow of a Doubt” snugly in my head from repeat-repeat viewings.  His golden years as well, with “Vertigo,” “Rear Window,” “Dial M for Murder,” To Catch a Thief,” “North by Northwest,” “Psycho,” “Rope, ” “Strangers on a Train,” “The Birds” and “Torn Curtain.”  When I say, “I love me some Hitchcock,” I seriously mean it.  I’ve twenty of his titles (well known and lesser) in my own library so far, with an Amazon wish-list holding the rest, plus every new bells-n-whistles Bluray and Criterion version of any already owned ones.

…Which made watching this show, “The 39 Steps,” IN London, IN the Criterion Theatre, with all it’s zillion Easter egg nods at Hitch “other” works, about one of the dork-coolest things I’ve ever panted through while wearing a shit-eatin-grin the entire time…in my life.

…Tonight, I’m playing with my old friend again.  Watching old favorites in a new light, with a goal in mind, and having a whole lotta fun while it’s happening.

So, excuse the lack of anniversary touting from a full year’s work come to a close.

Tonight, I’m just too busy to bother.  I’m on a date. With the Master of Suspense.

And it’s hawt 🙂

So ends this blog (and “North by Northwest.”)

…What, oh what, will come next???


Food Nightmares

6 Dec


This is a real thing.

…I didn’t know it before, but even food can be terrifying…like for realsies…cuz I completely tore my bedding apart with thrashing and woke up a sweaty hot mess. And for once, it wasn’t cuz of a coughing attack or a fever.

Here’s the scene: If you’re a film buff, imagine “The Desperate Hours,” meets “A Clockwork Orange,” meets the Food Network.

You guys, it was fucked up.

…So a bunch of us are in this giant house, living there all together. Theatre people, some family, and strangers I didn’t really know. Anyway…we’re chilling in the living room, drinking and what-have-you, when these two dudes come to the door. And some idiot goes to answer, and just lets them in.

…And they (of course) have guns and shit…and a whole pack of “others” waiting out back to be let in…so we are taken over, hostage in our own house, everyone trying not to freak out, but doing it anyway, as all communication to the outside world is immediately ripped from us.

Then we are told about “the game.”

…Right from the start it is made clear that only ONE of us will be getting out of here alive. We tell them to just take whatever it is that they want and go and we won’t do anything about it, but they don’t want “stuff” they want anatomy trophies from dead “us’s.” But first, we have to play a game.

…These dudes (and a couple of chicks) corral us into the living room, pluck out one at a time, and sit us in view of the others. We are tied and fucked with until a plate arrives. On it: an array of foods. Finger-sized. Harmless looking enough. Except we see from watching the first victim that it isn’t so much. Clearly a collection of cross-hallucinigens, drugs, and poisons have laced the foods as we watch them being forced into said person, who writhes and foams at the mouth and (in some cases) cooks from the inside, out.

…And this is great “sport” apparently, as the maniacal freaks forcing this upon them are beside themselves with cheerings and joy. Eventually, said person mercifully succumbs to the poison, and dies. At which point, a “trophy” piece is hacked off of them, and a new victim is selected.

…Only at one point, new rules are introduced in that we are given the “choice” to either eat the foods, or take the punishment as devised by this freak-band of sickos. When one sees the punishment devices, one (more times than not) chooses the poisoning. The winner of said game, being the last bastard standing. Or sitting. Or leaning. Or breathing. As we are now selected several at a time, lined up, and played with in tandem.

You guys, you don’t even know.

…Twelve kinds of disgusting, and seriously terrifying. At one point a couple of us broke free and hid in the house, overcoming the assholes looking for us, but then we were overpowered in the end and had to pay EXTRA for it.

Somewhere in there, my alarm finally went off.

…I’ve never been so happy for that in my entire fucking LIFE!

…So then I laid there, trying not to burst into tears, telling myself it was only a dream for like twenty minutes of snoozes…cuz I was way too freaked to even get outta bed.

…Which is prob’ly why I was so thankful, when I got to work and heard we were still locked for Inventory, that I immediately got to work getting off book for Act 3. All of it. Just focus on SOMETHING and get it in my head to push out all the other shit.

Now that I’ve finally calmed down, I find that Monologue-hell is complete and I’ve only one Act left to work on.

So see, you can even turn a horror-fest into a positive use, thanks to theatre.

Too creeped out to eat anything…but food is still over three hours away, and at home. Should be good to go by then. One hopes. Cuz I’m fuckin’ starving. Only Benedryl and coffee are floating around in there, till then.


Holy Orders & More

6 Aug


Callbacks this weekend. The theatre was booked, so we moved to the alternative space. 

Let not the irony escape you, that for at least two of the theatre’s in the area, the “alternative space” is a Church. 

…Historically speaking, whores and actors have been categorized together as equal opportunity offenders to these conservative numbers…(only possibly outdone by actors playing whores), since the beginning of time. Together, (or apart) they may say they accept you as one or both such members of humanity walking through their doors…but you better believe they’re gonna do their damndest to make sure when you walk out again, all that “nonsense” has been wiped clean, and you will be a fully functioning contributor to society once again.

…Unless you’re Lutheran or Unitarian I guess.  Cuz they sorta specialize in the, “whatever works for you,” category. Which is super rare. I know.  I’ve grown up in a whole lotta churches.  This one time?  I even wanted to make it a semi-calling.

…I was like five, and my Dad asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.

“A Nun and Actress!”

This tiny alteration to my otherwise lifelong goal, was a bi-product of having just discovered “The Sound of Music,” (of course.) It, never-the-less,  freaked him the fuck out.  As a student of Catholic Parochial Schools, I think he actually preferred the route I went. Which is only barely the lesser of two evils. At least this way, my “sins against humanity” would only involve making an ass of myself, with a possible last-minute repeal for my soul when the time has come. After all, I wouldn’t REALLY spend my life killing people, stealing their husbands and generally whoreing around…only “pretending” to.  This was better than a career of morbid servitude, beating children with rulers due to strict patriarchal demands and personal sexual frustrations.

…It’s “something,” and one should take what one can get.  Meanwhile, Mom found it hilarious and still likes to tell it as an anecdote at parties.

It was a short lived dream.

Despite the teachings of Julie Andrews (and Rogers and Hammerstein), a person cannot be both these things, sadly. (I’m sorry, it had to be said.)  At some point, this dawned on me. About the time I realized that raising seven step-children would prob’ly suck,  and I’d never actually “fly”, like Sally Field. This all directly coincided, by the way, with my first viewing of Audrey Hepburn’s “The Nun’s Story,”  wherein I was shown quite frankly that a life of almost total obedient silence, and floor scrubbing, in head-to-toe black polyester in the Congo, prob’ly wasn’t gonna allow for much stage time.  Clearly one of ’em would have to go…which is why I am not in Orders today. 

Also: I’m not Catholic.  And, they frown on cussing.

…Sadly, the “celibacy” bit, isn’t the issue…

…Anyway…where I was going with this was: Actors in a church are like one of the most outstanding “wrongs” you can imagine.  Especially when they are plying their trade.  Even if the offenders are “of faith” themselves…(obviously belonging to one of the less restrictive sects), and use their “powers” for good, not evil.  Since I belong to no sect, have my own “deal” with the powers that be, and play a revolving, reoccurring set of baddies, bimbos, bitches and ne’er-do-wells every time I pick up a script…it sorta freaks me out a bit to exercise it all in a place I was taught as far back as I can remember, is “Holy.” 

Also, it’s confusing.  Because I think of theatre almost exactly the same way…which some might call “heresy,” but I just call, “human truth.”

Either way you cook it…the entire experience can just get weird.

…Try doing Mamet in a Church foyer, for instance (been there.) Or play a lesbian putting the moves on someone’s wife, in the Sunday School room (done that.) Or murder a man in cold blood (yep), or ride a dude’s leg while he grapples your boob within three feet of the main sanctuary (achieved.)  Surround yourself with people screaming “Heil Hitler!” (on tour even.) Damn people to hell (check), ruin their marriages (several times), sell your body to the highest bidder (even for beer)…and swill booze in a pub while singing the raunchiest lyrics you can wink at (done, done, and yep.) These are things that might (to some) seem just a little disturbing…and not only to the people who aren’t participating in the events, believe me.  Which just means: when you walk into the building and know you have to do the things you’re gonna have to do in it…you sorta have to divorce yourself almost immediately from the restrictions of reality or you will never win, rehearse or conquer a role, pretty much ever again.

…I don’t know what that means in the mainframe of things…after all…it is only a “building” when you get right down to it. We don’t actually MEAN to “defile” it with our baser-humanity instincts and involvements (sometimes put to song.)  All I know is, this weekend I realized (for the first time) the double irony of it all.

…Think about it: Once upon a time (for about a week and a half), I wanted to be an Actor and a Nun.

And I am.

…Total, dedicated, penniless, servitude…as my calling requires…reaching out to humanity as a whole, without discrimination, in complete observance of all rulings sent down from my betters, as practiced within the walls of the Holy Church.

…Even the celibacy bit: still works.

…Which is all to say: “Look Ma! I made it!”

I’m sure she’s just proud as hell right now.


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