Having been grievously
disappointed by receiving a small part in the “Senior Show” production of
“Peter Pan” (while my best friend got a huge part, leaving me to play his
“right hand man”, no less,) I gallantly try to make the best of things.
In my fashion.
During the rehearsal period, my friend Shelly was a bundle
of nerves. Unlike myself, he had never
coveted a big part, and here he was playing Captain Hook, the second biggest
role in the show after Peter, played by Wendy Krangle, who not only impressed
us with her talent, but exposed us younger Seniors to many previously unknown
obscenities, uttered while swinging precariously over the stage, sheathed in a
constricting leather harness, as the befuddled stage crew stood helpless below,
unable to lower her back to earth.
The melodies to Hook’s songs were notoriously tricky, and,
though Shelly had a good ear, he had the darndest time mastering them. I, of course, was always available to
demonstrate how, actually, “easy” the tunes were. That’s what pals are for, right? To reassure and assist. The nervous performer. Who had gotten the big part I wanted! And he was never even that interested!
Shelly’s predicament incensed and tickled me to death at the
same time. Schadenfriende, I believe they call it.
(You know his
father and his uncle owned the camp.
Could getting Hook have been a case of rampant nephewtism? I mean, if I had
been running that show and it came down to me or Shelly playing Hook, I would
definitely have chosen me. I’d have been
wrong. But I’d have been Hook.)
(Another semi-prominent role was the part of “Michael”, one of
the Darling children who were enticed off to Neverneverland. This plum
went to another friend, Ira, who had blond, tousled hair and was ideal casting
for a fresh-faced English youngster. I
did not begrudge Ira his good fortune, as I was aware of the rarity of finding
a blond-headed actor at a Jewish camp. Besides,
“Michael” has to fly, and I was certain, if I flew, I’d have thrown up.)
On show night, I was uncharacteristically calm. What did I have to worry about? I had a small part. I was Smee.
Hook’s “butler.” Never speaking
unless spoken to. Instantly responsive
my captain’s desires.
I had two “moments” in the show, both in the same song –
“Hook’s Waltz.” One was, when Hook sang,
or more precisely “spoke-sang”, as an unsteady Shelly was permitted to do ala Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady,
“Captain of villainy
Murder and loot
Eager to kill any
Who say that his hook
isn’t cute?”
and then viciously thrusts his hooked replacement hand into
my face, I, as Smee, would coweringly respond,
“It’s cuuuuuute!”
The second “moment” occurs when Hook self-pityingly laments
in his mid-song recitative,
“No children love
me. I’m told they play at “Peter Pan”
and the strongest always chooses to be Peter.
They force the baby to be Hook.
The ba-aby!”
I, as Smee, in my designated position – behind the Captain
and two steps to the side – am required to blubber sympathetically over my
Captain’s humiliation, starting with a breath-catching sob, building to a
inconsolable wail, and topping it off with a trumpeting nose-blow into
a flamboyantly colorful handkerchief.
There are no small parts, only small actors who cannot
maneuver those small parts into show-stopping extravaganzas.
I had two things to work with – cowering and blubbering.
And I killed! Milking both opportunities into
spontaneous applause.
Call it “Smee’s Revenge.”
Unprofessional? I
imagine.
But, hey, they loved
it!
My crowning satisfaction arrived after the show when
Shelly’s aunt (the camp owners’ sister) insisted, “You stole the show!” Her
reaction was enormously gratifying, though I would have been happier if she had
not said that in front of her nephew.
I’m a terrible person, but there are limits. I mean Shelly was my friend, and I knew how
hard this had been for him. I tried to
re-direct the praise. Sincerely. But in vain.
It is not an uncommon occurrence. It was The
Andy Griffith Show, but it was Barney Fife who took home the Emmys.
The show was Seinfeld, buy
your eyes were on Kramer.
That night, it was Peter
Pan.
But they could easily have called it,
“Smee.”
And Company.
Small parts definitely have their advantages.
Though I continue to prefer big parts.
And now, an acclaimed version of “Hook’s Waltz.” With the original cast. (You’ll just have to imagine me in the part. It is arguable I was better.)
4 comments:
Great post, Earl. The funniest book about scene-stealing was Michael Green's "The Art of Coarse Acting".
A classic.
Also, if you didn't know, that scene from the original Peter Pan, was shot in the Brooklyn studios in Midwood where you originally did "The Cosby Show".
Memory is very selective. We regularly recreate the past or rewrite history from our current perspective. Given your position on "facts" this should surely give you pause.
not too big on empathy, are you, earl?
I was involved in casting that show and you were a natural for Smee, and we were well aware that Smee is a scene stealing role. After all, the big picture is that we were interested in the best show possible, not just in pleasing you, though of course we were interested in that too, and thought you would see the potential in the Smee role. The big picture is that the world does not revolve around you, even if your recollections do.
I also watched the show from the back of the rec hall, and it was a fine performance by all and much enjoyed by the audience. Don't know why you felt it necessary to throw your best friend under the bus. His and Wendy's performance just gave you something to play off, as was our intention.
Post a Comment