Lisa Norton

A Toronto native and graduate of George Brown Theatre School, Lisa Norton has had the pleasure of splitting her time between the worlds of stage, screen and voice acting.

Her twenty-year theatre career has taken her across Canada to major venues including The Arts Club (Vancouver), Citadel Theatre (Edmonton), Theatre Calgary, Royal Manitoba Theatre Centre, The Globe (Regina), The Segal Centre (Montreal), Odyssey Theatre (Ottawa), Theatre Aquarius (Hamilton), and Thousand Islands Playhouse, as well as throughout the U.S. on tour with Roseneath Theatre. At home in Toronto, some of Lisa’s favourite stage appearances include The Model Apartment (Harold Green Jewish Theatre), Of Mice and Men (Canadian Stage), And Up They Flew (Theatre Columbus), Den of Thieves (Surface Underground), Better Living and Escape From Happiness (Factory Theatre), An Acre of Time (Tarragon), and The Innocent Eye Test (Mirvish Productions). Lisa premiered new work at the Blyth Festival for three summers, played the role of Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream for the inaugural season of Newmarket’s Resurgence Theatre, and was a member of the esteemed Shaw Festival acting company for five years, performing in eleven shows including Picnic, Widowers’ Houses, Hay Fever, andlate great director Neil Munro’s full six-hour Man and Superman. While at the Shaw, she was chosen by then-Artistic Director Christopher Newton as the recipient of a Toronto Arts Protégé Honour.

Busy treading the boards, Lisa got around rather late to trying her hand at fim and TV, but has since found success in that realm as well. Her most recent appearances are in the film A Deadly View and the new TV series Carter (Sony Pictures/Bravo). Other work includes a recurring role as famous anarchist Emma Goldman in Murdoch Mysteries (Shaftesbury Films); appearances on Reign (CBS/Warner Bros./The CW), Fringe (Warner Bros./Fox), Rookie Blue (Global/ABC); Magic Beyond Words: The JK Rowling Story (Lifetime Network); Degrassi (CTV); Living In Your Car (Movie Central), and the role of war widow Edith McCallum on Global Television’s hit WWII series Bomb Girls.

More recently, Lisa discovered a whole new crazy and rewarding job upon breaking into the world of voice acting. As well as using her dulcet tones to sell you everything from cars to tuna to cell phones in dozens of TV and radio ads, Lisa has voiced characters in numerous cartoons including Atomic Puppet (Disney XD), Rocket Monkeys (Teletoon), Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs: The Series (Sony/Teletoon), Creative Galaxy (Amazon); Doozers (The Jim Henson Company), The Mysteries of Alfred Hedgehog (Muse/TVO), Willa’s Wild Life (Nelvana/YTV), and Detentionnaire (Teletoon). Lisa also provides the voice and motion capture perfornance of Lydia Frye in the Ubisoft game Asssassin’s Creed: Syndicate. She is currently recording one of the lead roles in the upcoming CBC Kids series Glowbles, and will be back on stage in March, in Pyretic Productions’ Blood of Our Soil at the Tarragon Extra Space.

See Lisa in Eldritch Theatre’s Space Opera Zero, at the Red Sandcastle Theatre, until Dec 2.

Tickets: eldritchtheatre.ca/tickets

Transcript

Welcome to episode 157 of Stageworthy. I’m your host, Phil Rickaby. Stageworthy is a podcast about people in Canadian theatre featuring conversations with actors, directors, playwrights, and more.

I want to tell you a little story. Two years ago, I went to see the harrowing of Brimstone McCready with Eldritch Theatre, and this was performed by Eric Woolfe and some puppets, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. A friend of mine had just told me that it was something that I had to see, and she was right, and it was magic.

And not just because Eric Woolfe actually performed magic during the show, but it was theatre magic. I was enraptured by everything that was happening, and so I became a fan right there and then, and I have not missed an Eldritch Theatre show since. Eldritch is currently running Space Opera Zero at the Red Sand Castle, and I rarely get a chance to tell you about a show, because usually the episode airs before I’ve had a chance to see it, and this time I am pleased to tell you that I saw Space Opera Zero on opening night, and it was incredible.

I cannot recommend this show more. It is genre, it’s science fiction, which is super hard to do, but because of the genius of Eric Woolfe, it works. And you know what? It’s interesting, because I was talking after the show how with simple theatre magic, without an expensive projector and flies and crazy stuff that you can find in some of the big Broadway shows, you can make really effective sci-fi through really simple tools, and Eric is able to make and transport you to space.

And this time it’s not a solo show, this time he has two great actors with him, Lisa Norton and Mari Babb, and you are going to hear from them on the next couple of episodes of Stageworthy starting today. And I just wanted to say that if you get a chance to see this show, you absolutely need to see it, because it will sort of, in a way it will change your perception of what’s possible in the theatre, and it is, it’s a lot of fun. I haven’t smiled that much at a show in a long time, and I enjoyed it so much that I was talking to the Eldritch Theatre folks, and I wanted to make it a little easier for you to go and see an Eldritch Theatre show, this Eldritch Theatre show in particular.

And so if you go to eldritchtheatre.ca slash tickets, and you buy your tickets to Space Opera Zero, and you use the discount code stageworthy, you’ll get your tickets for $20. And I cannot recommend more that you do this. Go and see the show, it’s on now until December 2nd, and you must do yourself this favour.

And when you do, I want to hear what you think. Tell me about it, because you can find me, remember, on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram at stageworthypod. You can find the website at stageworthypodcast.com. And if you want to drop me a line, you can find me on Twitter and Instagram at philrickabee, and my website is philrickabee.com. And my guest today is, as I said, Lisa Norton, who stars in Space Opera Zero, which is on now until December 2nd at the Red Sandcastle in Toronto.

Lisa Norton. So tell me, jump in. So you’re doing Space Opera Zero with Eldritch Theatre.

Sure am. I’ve seen a few things that Eldritch has done before, and they often involve puppets and magic and horror. Tell me about Space Opera Zero and how it relates to these things.

It relates to magic and puppets. It’s not a classic sort of Halloween horror show that Eldritch would do. I have a confession to make.

I’ve never seen an Eldritch show. You are missing out. I know.

And I’ve meant to and I’ve wanted to for years. And I guess I first became aware of them because my friend Kimwen Parahinnick, we went to school together, and she has done a lot of shows with Eldritch. And I work out of town a lot and kept missing things.

We kind of realized I just missed one and it was sold out. I have this vague memory of actually showing up once and then realizing like there was no show that night or I’d come on the wrong night for my ticket and couldn’t like some weird or maybe that’s just an excuse I’ve made up in my brain. But I’ve never seen one.

But I’ve heard about the horror stuff and I know about Eric’s Flea Circus show and all that stuff. And this show, it’s based on Thomas Middleton’s The Changeling. So it’s got this sort of classical theatre piece at the root of it.

But then he’s taken it into this pulp fiction, space science fiction inspired realm that will have magic tricks and puppets and all the kind of Eldritch craziness and different media that Eric uses. We did a workshop a little while ago. Okay.

So I have some idea of some of the stuff we’re going to do. But not the full picture. Have you ever worked with puppets before? No.

Oh, okay. No. I mean, have I? I think the most I’ve ever done was like when I was doing a Theatre for Young Audiences show and we did like a little moment where a river fish.

No, that’s about it. So one thing in the workshop, and it’s very cool working with Eric, even for that five day period, we’d be sitting around and doing sort of your typical dramaturgy around the table and arguing about the play and working out problems. And then Eric, somebody would say, well, how is someone’s head going to spin around 50 times? So Eric would jump up and he’d teach us or he wouldn’t teach us the secret, but he’d show us the trick of how someone’s head spins around.

Or we’d be going along and then something would come up about the puppets or he’d have something he wanted to show us because one of our props people was building the puppets in the room while we were talking about the play. And Eric said, okay, all right, everyone jump up and we’re going to do a little puppet 101. Everyone bring a stuffed animal tomorrow, bring your favourite stuffed animal.

And we’re going to do a little puppetry workshop, like the one he does for little kids, except it’s these clueless adults who are just like, well, I don’t know. It’s funny because it’s gotta be one of those things where like kids are like, yes, of course I can, you know, it’s just the thing and they fall, they go right into it. And adults have this imagination barrier that we’ve built up over time.

Yeah. Actors maybe. Actors aren’t supposed to, but we do.

We totally do. Especially things that aren’t in our wheelhouse. When it’s new, there’s totally a, like, I don’t know about this.

Yeah. Yeah. I don’t know about you.

I was brilliant at it right away. I’ll ask Eric. Don’t ask Eric.

No, no. You know, Eric’s really patient. He’s got like the soul of a teacher.

Yeah. So, you know, someone that doesn’t make you feel like an idiot if you don’t get it right away. And he’s so super excited to show off his toys.

Yeah. You know, like the stuff he’s gotten, the stuff we’re going to make and the stuff he’s written. And he’s laughing at his own jokes in the script, but in a charming way, you know.

I think that like to do a lot of the stuff that he does, you would have to have a lot of patience because of the audience work that he does, like before some shows or after shows. You can tell me about that. He had this whole extra thing.

He did this show and then downstairs, small group of people who paid a little extra go downstairs and get like this parlor magic thing for like 20 minutes or whatever. Where he does card tricks and stuff, but interactions with the audience and things like that. And it’s, it’s really, you know, and he does like, like fake seances.

He’s doing some of that at Copeland Lodge right now. Sold out. I couldn’t get a ticket.

I couldn’t get a ticket either. But you know, it’s like, there’s amazing stuff that he does. You have to be, have, I think, a soul of a teacher and a lot of patience to interact with audiences quite so intimately that way.

It’s funny. Cause I, Eric has, I think he has this idea of himself as this horrible curmudgeon. Oh, he does.

I’ve spoken to him. He’s like, um, you know, he’s like, I’m just a terrible curmudgeon. You’re like, you’re just wonderful.

He’s, he’s like a softie with this curmudgeonly shell around him. Right. So there is really that teacherly, patient soul.

And then, and then this edgy sense of humour. And I liked that combo. So he and I hit it off right away.

Have you ever done magic before? Or like, have you been around magic? Not a bit. How did it, like when you were, when this was proposed to you as a concept, did you really like, yes, I can do that. Or was there a, a, I don’t know about any of this.

Um, I think there was some, I don’t know if I can do this, but in the good way. I don’t know if I can do this now. I assume that by the time we get there, I will be able to do it.

Um, no, I was nothing but excited right away. I wasn’t hesitant at all. And, uh, like Eric is just someone I’ve known peripherally for a while and, and we’ve found each other, you know, funny on social media and stuff.

And, uh, Dylan, who’s directing is a good old pal of mine. And when they, you know, I just got some, Oh, Eric had asked me to workshop something a while ago and I couldn’t do it then. So I was already really excited to work with him at some point.

So basically just thought, you know, the second Eric calls me for anything I’d like to do. And then when they said, well, it’s a lesbian space opera and you’ll be playing a 1930s space pilot who falls in love with an alien and there will be, you know, robots and whatever. Yeah, exactly.

And then you get in the workshop and you go, Oh, I’m supposed to sing like, you know, there’s all this other crazy wacky stuff is like, I can do anything with you. But then there’s this part of me that kind of secretly wants everyone to know that I can sing too. If you haven’t done it in a while, there’s a certain, I don’t know what it is about singing where there’s a vulnerability.

Like I can recite anything, but yeah, ask me to sing in front of people. There’s a moment where I just might cry first. Yeah.

Yeah. You know? Yeah. It’s like saying you can get up at a karaoke bar and be like, Oh, we’re drinking karaoke fun.

And then you screw up your karaoke song in front of some strangers and some drunk people who cares. You’re so humiliated. Like I have turned like red faced and wanted to cry because I screwed up a karaoke song.

They’re barely paying attention. But I mean, I think the thing about singing too, like not only is it vulnerable and at least for people like, I assume you and me who aren’t practiced singers, you know, haven’t overcome that thing. Like I have sung in some shows, but it’s not my usual comfortable place.

But there’s something about singing that’s like math, right? Like there’s a right answer. Yeah. You can’t just like, Oh, well, I mean, I guess if you’re, if you’re scatting and you’re improvising some jazz stuff, like you sing the wrong note and you make it into the right note, but you know, usually when you hit a single wrong note, it’s the wrong note.

It’s not just, Oh, interesting choice. That note. Like it might be if you were trying to do weird acting.

It’s like, Oh yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

There’s a, there’s a totally objective answer to like what that note is supposed to be. Now, are you going to be doing any of the magic or is that magic? Do you know if magic is happening around you? Are you doing it? What is going to be your interaction with the magic? I don’t think I do any magic and it’s not, I mean, the magic in this show is all integrated into the story of like where there’s a trick that is, is part of the, you know, there’s no like, now we’re going to do a trick. That’s one of the great things about, about what he does.

Yeah. Um, where it doesn’t really, like the story doesn’t stop for the magic. The magic is part of part of the show.

And it’s kind of great. Cause when I saw Grimstone and Critty, I would sit, it was like, there were two seats that were like on either side of his playing space. And so you were like, right up there for all of the magic.

Oh, cool. So you kind of felt like you were in it. If you got one of those two seats.

And he would like pull random people out of the audience. Like you basically be like upgraded. Nobody bought those seats.

And I, me and my friend, we were sassing too much. And he was like, well, you guys are going to sit in these chairs. And you made it like, it was punishment.

You’re going to sit there and you’re going to sit there. And it ended up being just awesome. But like to be like, as though you’re complicit in it.

Cause you’re so close and you’re thinking like, oh, I’m in on something, but no, you’re not. Cause you still can’t see what’s happening either. Did it, so it didn’t wreck any of the tricks for you where you’re at the wrong angle and you see the thing that you’re doing.

He sits us at the right place and he performs it in such a way that like, there’s no way that we can see the trick. Yeah. He’s obviously practiced it for those two chairs to make sure that, yeah.

And, uh, like nothing gets ruined and you’re so drawn in just as like the audience is, but you’re just closer. Yeah. Um, so yeah, I don’t, I don’t do any, I don’t, I don’t think I do.

I could be completely lying to you. Cause I might just not be remembering. I mean, it’s a year ago.

There’s still, there’s still rehearsals to happen. Exactly. Yeah.

But you’re all manipulating puppets. Yeah. Yeah.

I guess, uh, each of us plays multiple characters and also different sized versions of our main character. So I’m playing Emily Trueheart as, um, one of the leading ladies in the show, the, the sort of Amelia Earhart inspired pilot. Um, and so I’ll be playing her, you know, normal size, me in a costume.

And then there will be, I think like a medium sort of tabletop puppet that I’ll manipulate. And then there’s like a tiny little one, because there are times when we appear in a little window or, you know, just be very small to make the size of the stage look like outer space or whatever. Have you seen Puppet Me yet? Oh, uh, they were carving out Puppet Me’s head while we were in the workshop.

So I was seeing it, seeing it take place. Is that kind of like, you’re going to be wearing like a costume that’s like the same as the puppet and you’re going to be like manipulating yourself. It’s kind of awesome.

Yeah. It’ll be like having my own action figure. So, um, one of the things I like to do is talk to people about their theatre origin stories, like why you chose this life and like all things.

Um, what was your first introduction to theatre? Jeez. Or do you remember when you first decided this was the thing I wanted to do? Well, starting to fool around with it and want to do it and then making the decision to go for it professionally were two completely different things, as I’m sure is the same with most people’s experiences. I think like the first thing, um, that I can think of when I was in like grade two or three, we had one of those, uh, creative writing programs where, um, programs.

I was in the creative writing program in grade two, the accomplished child. No, we had, we had this teacher. I think it might’ve been like some little box that she bought where, um, you know, everyone would read a book of their choice and then you would pull a little card out of the box and the card might say, write a diary entry from your favourite character’s point of view, or paint a picture about the book that you’re reading, you know? And I pulled one and it said, create a play, a short play, you know, use one of your classmates and, and create a scene from the thing you’re reading.

I don’t know why, I guess I’d been reading Snow White and, uh, anyway, my, my best friend, Kimberly Moonlight and I got up and we did a scene from Snow White and I, and I played Snow White. We did the scene where she was the witch and lured me and got me to eat the apple. And I had this enormously long, complicated death scene where I kept going down and one more gasp to life.

And, you know, so that was probably like the first bite of the bug because from then on, she and I decided all we were going to do with our spare time was make plays and recruit friends. And like, they were all just Disney ripoffs, right? Like we remounted Snow White and I got to play, play dopey. Cause I realized, oh, it’s way more fun to do a comic turn.

And we, we did, um, you know, a Cinderella where like our great coup was getting an actual boy to be in the play with us to kiss the girl who was playing. Yeah, that was pretty good. His friends teased him a bit, but he was pretty happy.

So, you know, through grade school, I mean that our teachers would let us present those to the class just for fun. And, and I became sort of this like bossy, horrible auteur. And then that led to, you know, me wanting my parents to take me to see real shows.

And we would usually go see one of the big musicals. You remember what the first real show you saw was? First real show. Quote, unquote.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Um, might have been cats. Okay.

We did most of those like, uh, Drabinski and Mervish things. Was that at the Elgin Winter Garden? Yeah. Yeah.

You know, what’s funny about it? I can remember what I wore. Yeah. Can you? 10 years old.

We would do this as like a family Christmas present or because my birthday is in September and they knew that I really liked plays like my birthday present would be to get us all tickets to something. And then maybe we would go around Christmas and then it would be like a Christmas present as well. And I remember like going to see cats and wearing like my red coat and my black dress and my red belt and my red tights and my black.

And, uh, and being kind of blown away and like my parents buying me the big expensive stupid souvenir program. And I was just amazed reading everyone’s little bios and memorize them practically. There are actors I’ve met years later and been like, this person seems familiar.

Oh my God. Yeah. This was rum tugging.

Which is an amazing way. Did you tell them that you saw them in cats? Did you ever like be like, I saw you when I was 10 years old? Don’t know if I did. I mean that I have with some things because sometimes when you’re a kid and you see someone and then it can either freak them out and make them feel old or they can feel really honoured.

Yeah. Yeah. When I was, uh, 13, I know I was 13 cause we had this like unlucky, horrible number 13 went to see Macbeth.

Okay. Like all the bad luck omens. And you know, it was my 13th birthday trip.

And I said, they said, what do you want to see? And my parents kind of gave me the programs for things. And like, we’d been to Shaw the previous year to see Peter Pan. And I was getting a little older and a little more interested in seeing Shakespeare and you know, Ooh, Macbeth.

I know that one. And, uh, Oh, my parents are going to kill me if they hear this, but, uh, like this was the trip that like broke up my parents’ marriage. So we had this stressful trip to Stratford where like, you know, we were running late and my dad was driving like a maniac and everyone was stressed out.

And then they were going to see this stupid show that no one wanted to see just cause I wanted to see. And then we were late and we stood in the lobby and my family’s all bickering and I’m staring at the monitor, not wanting to miss anything. And then we went in and I was so amazed.

And like my family was all kind of annoyed and pissed off and didn’t want either. They do love theatre now, but it was just, it was just a bad week. Um, but I remember at that moment I was like, and I still haven’t, but I thought, Oh, that role.

I, I want to play that role. And it was partly because Goldie Semple, the late great Goldie Semple was playing it who blew my effing little mind. And I just wanted to do what she was doing.

And, um, and I think like I wrote down her name, writing down Goldie Semple, like this amazing name I’ll never forget. And then I forgot. And you know, then did high school plays and all this stuff.

And then ended up going to theatre school and, uh, ended up at the Shaw festival and in my first season ended up being moved into a show where I was working with Goldie Semple. Still didn’t remember. I thought she was amazing and I’d seen her and stuff since and was now working with her.

I thought she was fantastic. Um, and then, Oh, we were doing the matchmaker by Thornton Wilder, Wilder. And in rehearsal, one day she said to Christopher Newton was directing.

And she said, Chris, I just, I’m going to try something. Um, I don’t have a good Irish accent, but I’m just want to try it as bad as it may be. And if it works for you, then, then I can work on it because Dolly in, in, uh, the matchmaker and hello, Dolly, it refers to her being Dolly Gallagher and then, you know, vivacious Irish lady.

So she started doing this terrible Irish accent. Like good for her man, the bravery to be in the rehearsal hall going, I’m going to do this horrible thing. That sounds ridiculous.

And, and just to see, and we were all teasing her about it like crazy. And we start the show and she was wearing this green dress and, you know, big green bustle and all these green accessories. And she had this big red wig and a little green hat.

I got a box of lucky charms and I cut out the lucky charms guy. I was such an asshole. I was like in my early twenties, right? I would never, what the fuck was I thinking? I cut out the lucky charms guy and I taped it to her dressing room door.

And I thought it was so funny and she had a good sense of humour about it, but thank God. And, you know, so all this like, ha ha ha Goldie, she’s a great gal. What a, you know, we’re all part of the gang.

And then, uh, one day a friend of mine, Holly Lewis, who’s also an actor, she came to see the show and, um, you know, people who know people in the cast would often come backstage afterwards, you know, by the dressing rooms to congratulate people. And I’m in my dressing room with the door open and Goldie’s dressing room next door with the lucky charms guy, you know, it’s one over. And I hear Holly’s voice saying, Oh, Miss Semple, I just, I want to thank you so much for your performance.

And I’ve always been such a big, big fan. You’re so wonderful. And, and when I was 12, I saw you play Lady M in Stratford and I am standing in my dressing room and I realized, Oh my God, Oh my God, this is the woman who made me want to become an actor.

And I’m like suddenly newly starstruck by the person I’ve been working with for months. And, you know, it hits me what an ass I am and how dare I, uh, you know, I think it took me until later to realize like what a shitty move that really was. But in that moment, I at least realized like, Oh my God, who look who I’m, you know, being, and, and I have that with friends now, like people who are immensely talented, who you just, of course, you just start to think of them as Kelly or Jim or whoever, you know, because they’re just your friends.

And then you go and see them in a show again. And you’re like, Oh yeah. You’re like in awe of your buddy.

And you go, you’re suddenly kind of shy talking to them after the show. I had that this summer. I saw, um, Gillian English perform her, um, her show She-Wolf where she embodies, um, uh, the, the, the queen in, in the Harry’s.

Oh, cool. And I, I had not seen her perform before. And I was like, after the show, I was like, uh, yeah, you were really good.

And then it was like, I ran away because it was like, yeah, we’ve been hanging out, but you’re really good. So that’s where I am. Just found out that my buddy is Beyonce.

Yeah. Yeah. It’s basically, that’s what it is.

Yeah. Pretty cool. Did you, how did you recover from your new shyness around Goldie? I did.

I mean, the first thing I did was go right out into the hallway and say, Oh my God, Oh my God. And I told her, you know, and it probably just sounded like I was just repeating what Holly said, but yeah. And, uh, you know, it wasn’t ever that I didn’t think she was incredible, but, um, I did have like this newfound awe and respect when I realized like, I’m, I’m working with the woman who inspired me to do this job.

It’s funny how those theatre families will form. And suddenly somebody is like the jokey older brother or sister or something. And there’s like sassing everybody.

Um, and it’s the kind of thing that you could sort of get away with is if you don’t like, yes, it’s asshole-ish sometimes, but like, it’s the way families are, we form little families. Um, and then, but if you’re like, if you found out that like the person you were sassing was like your grandma or something like that, you’d be like, Oh shit. And then to find out that they’re like the person that made you want to go into theatre, it’s like a huge thing.

Yeah. You glossed over the, the going to theatre school. Oh yeah.

Yeah. Well, it wasn’t part of that story. No, I know.

But I want to come back to that because that’s, that sort of alludes to the decision to do this. Um, which is always one of the fascinating things for me is because a lot of people do theatre in their spare time. They do a community theatre and, and, and, and, and things like that.

Uh, very few people make the decision to go and do it full time. Yeah. So when did you decide that it was a thing that you wanted to do like for your life? Yeah.

Well, the big decision had to be made when you’re picking schools. Right. Or even then you can, things can always change later.

But, um, I went to a high school where we had this incredible drama teacher, a couple of incredible drama teachers who were really supportive and allowed us to take it as seriously as we wanted to, which in some cases was pretty serious. So, uh, my teacher, Alan Hunt, he, he started this, I went to a school called Pearson in Scarborough and we had Pearson Play House. And one of the things we did was this, this festival of plays that were written by students, directed by students and acted by students.

And that might’ve, some of that overlapped with the Sears Drama Festival, but it gave me the chance to direct a lot. And in the shows that he was directing, I got, we got a chance to do a lot of really interesting things. And, you know, we did Leaving Home and I played Mary, which was, you know, just getting a chance to sink your teeth into some really good roles in school and do some cool stuff with other people who were into it, you know? So it didn’t feel frivolous or silly, but it did feel impractical, you know? And, and I, I guess I knew it was something that I wanted to be part of my university or college life, but there was that, okay, do I get a degree so I have a fallback? Do I do it? You know? And I guess it would have been education.

And I was looking at schools and, you know, I applied to NTS and George Brown and York and Ryerson. So like I threw my hat in all those rings and I did get into York and thought, well, this would be the smart thing to do. On the other hand, I got into George Brown and thought, well, if I have a backup, I’ll fall on my backup.

And if I want to act, if I really want to go for it, I think I should go for this program that will be more immersive. I mean, each program obviously offers its own strengths. And I mean, the thing I, I heard Sandy Becker, stage manager’s podcast with you.

And when she was talking about York and her experience, what I love about the people who’ve come out of there is that they have to do everything at first. So, you know, I would love to have more of those skills because I was just in my little acting bubble. And when I was in theatre school and I heard, Oh, but you have to do like a general, the first year I was like, why would I want to do that? I know what I want to do.

And now I’m like, but how much more rounded would you be if you did that? Well, I mean, even in high school, I was talking to a friend recently about, uh, high school sports and I didn’t do anything because I was always doing a play. And you know, the teacher would say, Hey, you might be good at basketball. Why don’t you try out for the team or come out for the swim team? And I go, Oh, we’re starting rehearsals.

Well, I have the rest of my life to do plays and I kind of wish I’d done other stuff. But at the time you’re like, this is what I want to do. Right.

And you want to do it every second that you can, you know? And then, um, I mean, but I always think that George Brown should do now. I mean, we used to joke because you went to George Brown. Okay.

You know how like George Brown offers every thing you can imagine. And we used to call it the George Brown school of theatre and motorcycle maintenance. Yes.

Yeah. Yeah. Not if you’re actually in the theatre program, but like, you could just go to George Brown for the rest of your life and study everything in the world.

You could come out and be a great cook and a, uh, a graphic artist, jewellery maker and social worker. Yeah. So like I used, we used to joke about it then and be like, Oh, George Brown school of acting and pipe fitting.

Ha ha ha. And now I’m like, Holy shit. That would be brilliant.

Like instead of, instead of having an academic stream or like you have to take electives in these other courses that are related to acting or academics, it should be like, Hey guys, you’re going to be actors. Wouldn’t it be useful to also be a part-time electrician? Like all this stuff that people end up doing, like working as contractors and stuff like, Oh yeah, I know a little plumbing. Cause I took that other course.

I mean, of course, when I was in Georgia, when I went to theatre school, it was like, you told me that I was not going to be like successful out of the gate when I was starting out. If they were like, okay, so you’re going to have to choose a course from the rest of the Durham college and take that. So you have an extra skill.

It’d be like, fuck you. Yeah, that’s, that’s true in a way, but I think like our idea, if you look at it in a way that like success doesn’t mean you will act 100% of the time and not do anything else. Like there are people I know who I consider very successful, who still do other stuff between gigs, you know? So you go, Hey guys, this is just so like, when you’re between gigs, you won’t be broke.

It doesn’t mean you’re quitting acting. No. And I think it is certainly one of those things that, that when you’re in theatre school, you really do need stressed.

Like, you know, there was, you need a, some kind of, not a fallback, but an additional. Yeah. Although like you say, would you listen when you’re like 19? No.

But if you were to go back to who was your head of acting? Peter Wilde. Peter Wilde. Okay.

So here’s my head of acting as well. So, uh, which, and, uh, I, I could go on about, about how intimidated I was as a, as a, as a student, but he would always say things like, I wish you were older. Come back to me when you’re 30.

He would say it. I’d be like, what the fuck do you in particular? Like all of us, like we were all like 19. I wish you weren’t idiots.

You know, all those, all those Peter Wilde isms, you know? Yeah. And he was just like, like in that lamenting way that he has, I wish you were older. All of you all these things that he would say.

Um, but I know what he was saying. Now you do. Now I do.

But at the time I was like, fuck you old man, you know, but it was, I know pain. I know the depths of all these characters through puberty, all the things that we tell ourselves. Yeah.

I often think like how useful it would be if, you know, an actor spent actor, writer, whatever, creative person who’s like making stuff about the world spends six months to a year, not doing theatre, but like working a real job. So that we’re not always like writing about theatre and like creating art about theatre and things like that. Yeah, totally.

Because there are people who aren’t in theatre about that world. They just like, they want to see what’s on the stage, but they don’t want the whole. True.

Which building were you at stage from? Were you at the old, old one? Yeah. Five 30. Yeah.

It’s a condo. Yeah. It’s a condo now.

And what’s weird is when I stand across the street or go by on the streetcar, I can’t quite place exactly where it was. Cause it’s all just this like big mass of glass and metal now. And you go the building is gone.

And I’m like, but where was the alley? If I’m on queen street, I can be like, I went down this alley and the school was, I don’t know. The alley’s not there anymore or something. There’s like, all this stuff is not there.

It’s like really weird when weird, when things change. Weird. It’s disorienting.

Did you like, what was it about George Brown that drew you in? Was it just, we were at five 30 King, um, for our shows, but my class, I just have to say this while you’re here. And I, and I can brag about this. My class was the, the only one with the distinction to be on a different campus every year.

Cause George Brown kept kicking us out. You probably went to Casa Loma. Nope.

Nope. Kensington. So we had a year in Kensington that I guess used to be the home to like the nursing program and stuff.

And then that left and went to Casa Loma and they still had this building, but they were trying to sell it. Um, so it was this strange, like five or six story building and the theatre students got the first floor and the dance students were up on the fifth floor, nothing in between. Creepy, creepy.

It was this ghost town building. And we had this, um, this huge cafeteria with like deep fryers and big industrial sized fridges and stuff. And we, we keep our lunch in the fridge there.

We, we weren’t allowed to use the deep fryer, but like we, we had like all these, like, we just shove furniture from everywhere in the building in there. So we had like, everyone had their own couch and stuff. And it was just this really weird freezing cold place.

Cause we had no heat in the winter. And, um, I had my own room in that school cause I found a door, like I found an old abandoned student council office with posters and things in it. And then there was a door in it that looked like it just went to closet and they went up these little stairs and then this like little sort of half room, like a loft with a rolled up carpets in it.

So I unrolled the carpet and I went into Chinatown and got myself like very light. There was a plug and little lanterns. And I brought my sleeping bag and an alarm clock and it became like my nap room.

And then eventually sort of everyone’s nap room, except they had to ask me for permission. Cause like everyone knew that’s Lisa’s room. Okay.

Like ask her if you can, there were probably people fooling around in there when you’re like, everyone’s having sex in that room. Um, but, uh, eventually like I went in there and it was locked one day and it turned out that security had found my stuff and they thought that there was someone living in there. Yeah.

They thought someone had found their way into the building and was living in this little room. And so I was like, Oh, it’s me. I shouldn’t know.

I wasn’t staying over. And I never got my sleeping bag back. And then the third year we were at Casa Loma, but we had no heat in either Casa Loma or yeah.

Um, yeah. It was a weird basement situation. Yeah.

Kensington, we had no heat cause they weren’t, they didn’t want to pay for heat while they were selling the place. And like, we’d be in classes wearing parkas and like now, and then like a door would fly open and they’d be showing a bunch of Japanese businessmen through the building while we’re like rolling down the spine. And yeah, one day I remember we were wearing parkas and our voice teacher, Susan Stackhouse, did she teach you? She got so frustrated because she’s trying to talk to us about our alignment.

She’s going up to use someone as an example, who’s wearing like this, you know, puffy parka thing. And she’s like, you see how your spine, who am I kidding? I can’t see anything. Yeah.

And then the third year, um, we were in that weird basement corner of Casa Loma and it had this garage door in it that in the main rehearsal hall that opened up because outside of it was, uh, all of this abandoned construction stuff, because that used to be where they taught students to build skyscrapers basically. So how all these like giant girders and big hunks of concrete and stuff out there. So we would like at the beginning of the school year when it was warm, swing the garage door up in and got there and run lines and climb on dangerous things where like now they would never, ever like, no, but, uh, and there were no walls between any of the class.

Like the, the walls didn’t go all the way up to the ceiling. So you could hear each other’s singing and chanting and everything. And so, yeah, when it got cold, all of the air, cold air coming in from that garage door thing, like we were again in parks and we’re freezing and Heiner Piller, who was the artistic director came in one day with like a bunch of cardboard and duct tape and foam and stuff.

And he’s in there going, and he taped the whole thing up like by himself while we’re doing a clown class or something. Oh man. I mean the, the, the, the warehouse on King street was its own drafty thing.

Yeah. The raccoons and the silverfish and the mice and everything, but it was disgusting, but you know, but charming, so charming. It had a lot of soul that building, like you felt like, like it did have ghosts.

I felt like it because of all of the years that that building had been used as a theatre school that you really did feel like the ghosts of, of theatre past in a way that in an abandoned building where it’s sort of like a ghost town where you can like find a hidden room that nobody knows about and make it yours, which sounds like, like an English children’s adventure. It sounds like something that’s the start of like the famous five or something. You found like a room and ended up in Narnia or something, you know? Yeah.

Or like one of those things when we were kids, like all the, you know, movies where someone would get locked in a mall and get to live in the mall. Yes. Yes.

It’s that kind of thing. But I forget where I was going, but like, you really felt like the history of that, of that building, you know, the people who’d been through. And if you believe in like, you know, if it weren’t ghosts, but if you believe in energy being left behind, which I don’t know if I do, but what more intense energy than a bunch of angsty artistic 20 year olds were pouring out their hearts and souls and emotional.

Yeah. All I’m thinking is like how many years of period study alone would leave that kind of like energy, like a month of intense, like focus on this single period of rehearsing. And then an eight to 12 hour performance that leaves everybody like, what am I doing? Was yours eight to 12 hours? I think ours was about six, six hours.

Yeah. Ours was six and a half. And they said it was the shortest in a long time.

I think ours was eight. I know that they’d gone up to 12. I know.

Or like close to it. It’s unbelievable. Like talk about something that the teachers have to go through.

Imagine being one of those teachers and having to sit through that whole thing. Oh, I know. Yeah.

Because like parents or friends or whatever would come and go and. Yeah. Good Lord.

I know. But, and then by the end of the day, how many, how many, you know, vocal masks do people sit through and things like that, you know, but, and it’s all the same sort of thing, but like the, like a eight to 12 hours of like some period. And I mean, it’s exhausting for the people on the stage.

I remember they were like, all right, so now we’re going to have a party. I’m like, why? Let me go. Why? Let’s get drunk.

I’m like, I’m too tired. After the marathon. Yeah.

What was it about George Brown that made you choose it? Was it just because it was the conservatory? Yeah. Yeah. I mean, I would have been happy with that or NTS.

And I didn’t get into NTS or I might’ve gone there. But ultimately I was glad that I stayed in George Brown because it was in Toronto. Because I mean, obviously NTS grads do fine, but there is that cool thing about going to George Brown and when you come out, you already know some people, you’ve already seen a lot of shows in that you’re going to be auditioning for people who you’ve seen on stage or the teachers who’ve been teaching you in class, or sometimes people who might be connections.

That was really one of the, there were two things that made me choose it. And one was the fact that my teachers were people who were in the industry and not somebody who has been a professor for the last 10 years. Yeah.

Not some tenured person. Yeah. And also it was the, somebody was like, it’s the only school that has a business of acting course.

That actually factored into your thinking when you were going into the industry. Yeah. It really did.

Were you like 18 or? I was like 19. When somebody says, it’s the only school that will teach you what to do when you get out. And having spoken to people, I don’t know if other schools are doing it.

Certainly a lot of universities, when you finish, they’re like, well, we’ve taught you how to act. Good luck. Bye-bye.

Well, what about hedge stocks? You’ll figure it out. Wow. There’s a lot of schools don’t, I think a lot of the conservatory schools are thinking about, about that.

But I’m like, I still hear from people who went to university quite recently who were like, yeah, graduate. I had no idea what I was doing. Oh, that sucks.

Yeah. Yeah. I mean, I took that for granted in a way, but yeah.

Yeah. That is great. Yeah.

And no, that was definitely something. It was those two things that factored into it. Yeah.

I mean the, the former about having teachers that are in the business was a big one, but again, you know, when I was 18 and going into school, I don’t know how much of that I really understood or appreciated. I knew vaguely that it was a more practical program and that you’d be focused on, you know, acting and to a lesser extent singing and dancing, but doing theatre all the time and doing shows. So that was, that was the main thing.

And I think I found out the nuts and bolts of it once I was there. I mean, I certainly was like when I, uh, like I got into Ryerson and George Brown, I was looking at the requirements. I was like, wait, I’m going to have to like take academic shit too.

And I was like, I think I was like so focused on being an actor that I was, I just was the idea of, of having to take an English class or a psychology class. I was like, you just want to act. Like everything else seemed like a waste of time.

Yeah, it did. It did. Yeah.

You know, I don’t know how smart that was, but you know, the thing, you know, the, the intense nature of the program certainly, um, engendered a lot of like, yeah, I think it’s, it’s certainly, there’s a lot of focus that goes into it and a lot of, a lot of, a lot of terror. I don’t know about you, but a lot of my time at George Brown was spent being afraid that I was going to be cut. You know? And I often still have that sort of thing where I’m like, I think we need to do away with that.

Like they’re like, we need to cut down the class because we only want to keep people who we think are going to make it. And I’m kind of like, who are you saying? And also when you’re afraid, that’s not a great way to be creative. Well, and also just let in fewer people in the first place.

Yes, exactly. Because I mean, I think it all has to do with the funding model where if they let in a lot of people at the beginning, they’ll get money for all those people. Yes.

Yeah. And they know damn well at the beginning that they’re going to cut a whole bunch of them. Um, if they kept it smaller in the beginning, people wouldn’t just be living in terror, which we all were.

Oh yeah. Because they’re, you know, your class gets cut down to a third of the size right away. Yeah.

I think, I think it, the first semester is one thing. And then after Christmas, when you, when you like you’re at the Christmas party and you’re like, who’s cut? What? What? They didn’t even say goodbye. And like sitting out in the hallway for people’s meetings.

Yeah. And you’re waiting to go out. Yeah.

Yeah. Just looking absolutely devastated or slightly relieved or confused or whatever, you know? I came out of mine mostly confused because I, I always started out being cut and like clawed my way back. Yeah.

Yeah. Somehow. But it was like, after the first time, it was just like, every day was like, if I’m going to do the wrong thing, I’m going to say the wrong thing, whatever, you know? And I actually think that that sort of like, teaches you not to rock the boat in a lot of situations.

Yeah. You’re actually afraid to take risks because then you might fuck up and get kicked out. Yeah.

Absolutely. Yeah. I, yeah.

I mean, I just spent a lot of theatre school stressed out and terrified. You know, yeah, I was, I was 18 for like two weeks and then, and then, um, so yeah, I was, I was one of the young ones, like we had a 17 year old when we started and then a few around my age and then, and then a couple of people who’d already been to university and were older and, um, but yeah, the whole thing, I mean, what, what year did you graduate? 89? No, I went into 89. I think it was like 90, 92, 93.

Okay. Yeah. And I got out in 97.

So like we were there in the sort of, which I think lasted a long time for the period that was very much tear them down, rip them apart, build them back up, you know? So you spent three years with everyone telling you that you’re shit and you’re no good and you’re not going to make it. And you know, so it’s. But that whole, like the whole like idea of like, build them down, like tear them down, build them back up.

I always sort of felt like they always missed that last half. And it was always like, and okay, it’s too rich back up. And then you kind of think, okay, well, some people manage to build themselves back up and maybe they’re the ones that are meant to make it because they’re starting, but it’s like, Oh God, did you really need to destroy everyone? How many people in your class, do you know how many people are still in the business? Uh, maybe a third.

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

A lot of people have moved on to other stuff. But we graduated like 15 people. I mean, and some of the people who quit didn’t quit because they were destroyed.

They just eventually went, Oh, you know what? I need a more steady income or things. I mean, it’s certainly definitely like, um, like I do know people who, who graduated and were like, I don’t want to do this. Um, but like right away, almost right away, like maybe do a year of like trying it and being like, I want to do this because they didn’t have it in them anymore.

Um, but also there’s a lot of people who, you know, they’ll do it a few years and they start to get close to 30 and they’re like, I think I would like groceries. Yeah. Yeah.

Like I think I would like things. Sure. You know.

Which fair enough. Like drop out. Absolutely.

And I always think like, cause I know sometimes when people quit, they’ll feel sheepish about it. I feel like people are going to judge them or that they gave up. And I always think like more power to you, man.

Like if you’re happy doing something else and if this was stressful and, it wasn’t doing it for you and making you happy, then. Well, you shouldn’t be ashamed for leaving something that isn’t making you happy anymore. Yeah.

I mean, sometimes I’m sad when I see friends leaving and I know it’s just purely financial because you go, fuck, you’re so good. And you still get joy from it. I still get that.

I still totally understand it. But sometimes I think like, what if next year? It’s always sad that when somebody loves it, but has to leave it for something like finances. Yeah.

Because you would think, you think to yourself, like, if only we had some way of like, some better way of financing this stuff. If only there was a something that could be done that like could help this person. Sure.

And like, I was, I was talking to someone the other day who, you know, who doesn’t work in theatre, but like it was at my cousin’s wedding, just chatting with another Scarborough person. And, um, you know, he, he found out I was an actor and, and we were kind of chatting about, you know, how disappointingly white my job sector is, you know, and that like, I grew up in Scarborough where I was so happy to have grown up with such diversity. And like, you know, knowing having buddies who were all different races and religions and stuff, and then like going into acting, which you think, oh, I’m in this creative field.

Surely it will be really diverse and cutting edge. And it’s like, so white. And he reminded me, it made me feel a bit better about theatre in a way that like, no, it’s not just that theatre is racist and not giving people opportunities.

But part of it is that like, because he was, he’s a Brown guy. And he was saying like, I’m, my parents are immigrants who work in a factory. Like a creative field was not an option for me.

I needed to succeed financially. Like I could not take that risk. So there is some of that like, oh, I’m a white middle-class kid who could go into the arts and try things out.

And how the hell did I get on this? Just talking about like people needing groceries and stuff. But like, you do think like, oh, the fact that this, you know, that we don’t have a basic working income or, you know, that we don’t, isn’t Ireland where artists don’t pay taxes, things like that that can help people become artists who aren’t necessarily just the upper middle-class or middle-class people. It’s like this whole argument in Britain right now that like, they’re running out of actors without posh accents because like now the only people who can afford to go into the arts are like, you know, the public school upper class kids.

I mean, there’s, there’s, there’s a lot. I mean, we have this thing here where it’s, where the arts are elite, the arts are not for everybody. Right.

It’s like, we have this whole idea and we’ve had some like governments that think, oh, theatre, dance, opera, the arts, that’s all just for the rich people. And, you know, you still find people who are like, well, I can’t afford to go to theatre. And I’m like, I can name three theatres right now that you can afford to go to right now.

Yeah. You know? But people don’t know that. Of course not.

When I was in theatre school and I saw the words PWYC on a poster and like once I’d seen it 10 times, I had to ask someone and it’s like, oh, you mean I could have been doing shows for $5 all along? I had this conversation with Sue Edworthy and she was like, you have all these acronyms that nobody understands like PWYC. You know what it means, but we use it on all of our posters and all of your advertisements. Yeah.

Ask those people over there, what does PWYC mean? And they’d be like, I don’t know. Yeah. And they don’t know that they could afford to go see the show.

They might notice if there’s a big thing that says like 25 under 25 for the opera or something, but you know, it’s really too bad. Yeah. You know, we’re in the weeds now, but I love that.

I love these kinds of conversations. When you got out of theatre school, just out of curiosity, how long did it take before you started working professionally? Did you have to wait tables for a while? Yeah. I did some restaurant stuff like hosting, bartending, whatever.

And even when I did start working was, you know, would do catering gigs in between, careering and all kinds of things. But yeah, I guess I got out and did a fringe show right away, which was a really successful one, which was great. And then, and I went away to work with Odyssey Theatre in Ottawa, which I just worked with this past summer.

So I went back to the place that had been my first gig 20 years later. Oh, that’s so awesome. Yeah.

It was surreal. I kept like, you know, when we went to the site for the first time, it’s a park. And I said, well, they’ve moved the stage.

I mean, it’s in the same spot, but they’ve rotated it. Right. And everyone’s telling me, no, no, not at all.

And like, well, something, oh, well this like, well, the washroom was over. Did they move the washroom then? Nope. Nope.

Exactly. And like my memory had just sort of like twisted things 30 degrees. Yeah.

Yeah. Yeah. Would you remember what your fringe show was? It was called Shooter.

And it was by Dennis McGrath, a lovely, dear, awesome writer who, who worked in TV for a long time, passed away last year. He was one of the creators of Flashpoint and X Company and directed by our friend Colin and starring Mark Ellis, who was another Flashpoint X Company folks. So like those guys all started out together and like created the show.

And yeah, so I, and, and the other two actors were, there was one in their 40s and a woman who was about 80, which was super cool. Like particularly cool working with her because you’ve just come out of school where like. A 23 year old is playing somebody who’s 60, right? Yeah.

Yeah. Like, hi grandma. And there’s 23 year old grandma with terrible powdered hair or bad age makeup.

So just getting out and right away getting to work with like people of different ages and particularly this older woman was like really enriching. And then like working with these three guys, the, the director and writer and, and lead actor producer who were great buddies and had a lot of respect for each other, but couldn’t really fight it out. Yeah.

And, uh, at first I was a bit shocked, like, Oh my God, like don’t, don’t tell the writer to change a thing, which I still think to some extent, like try the thing first before you ask for a rewrite, like, come on guys. But they had this relationship that could be contentious, but could work. And it was really, you know, sparky and fun and, and exciting being in that room and, and, you know, there’s obviously a lot of trust there though.

Yeah. Even though they’re fighting it out, if he says, change the thing. And the writer’s like, I’m not going to change the thing.

And then they find out how to change the thing is because ultimately they trust each other. They won because he knew that they were right. Yeah.

Yeah. I mean, now I can see how it works. It’s just, you know, when you get out and when you’re young and you, you’ve been trained, like, uh, you know, the levels of gods.

Yes. And like, you can’t change the text. You can’t play right as God.

You know, the director is God’s right hand man. I don’t know. Cause I was always, for me, it was always like, if there’s only one God in the rehearsal hall, that is the stage manager.

I had a number of stage managers who were like, listen, let’s remember I’m God. When I tell you to do something, you will do it. And we all, and everybody was just like, ultimately like, cool.

I’ll say this about George Brown, going back to that. That was another thing I, you know, if anyone had asked me going in, whether I valued their approach to stage managers, I would have had no idea what it was, but coming out, that was to me. One of the best parts of that education was that we always worked with professional stage.

Yes. 100%. And, you know, in another program where maybe like there are stage managers in training too, and they stage manage your show and you’re all learning together.

Well, that’s nice. But first of all, we knew our shows would be run really damn well, but also we were being taught etiquette. And sometimes from other people saying like, okay, so you guys are starting with stage manager now and they are God and, you know, treat them with respect and remember that they’re in charge now that I’m leaving as the director.

But also things like, you know, Susan Jennings, a stage manager who worked with us in George Brown saying, when I say going to black, say, thank you. Yes. When I tell you anything, say, thank you.

So I know you heard and just like little things like that. So when you go and do your first, first pro gig, you just, you know. It’s automatic.

By the time you get out, it’s automatic. This is your 30. Thank you.

You know? But then I’ve worked with people who obviously haven’t had that and they get the 30 and say, thank you. And they don’t say anything. And you’re like, you just do this quick like turn.

You’re like, who taught you? Just, I feel like older. Were you born in a barn? What’s wrong with you? You know, is there anything in particular, just running back to Space Opera Zero. I mean, there’s, there’s a lot that you’re, that you’re doing that’s new.

There’s some magic in the show. There’s puppets in the show. You’re singing what you’ve done before, but it’s also like, as we’ve discussed, there’s a little bit of a thing.

And I’m probably hardly singing. It doesn’t need to be much. I mean, no, this doesn’t even need to be much.

If somebody’s like, this is the scene where you’re going to sing row, row, row your boat. I’ll be like, do that. That’s a lot to ask.

You know? Do I have to breathe and sing? Cause I don’t seem to be succeeding. Um, aside from all of those, is there anything in particular that, that is kind of frightening for you about the show? Geez. Aside from all that, does there need to be anything else? No, there doesn’t need to be an aside, but if we can pick one thing, what is it? What’s something that scares you the most? God, I don’t know.

I’m, I’m actually, I will be when we start rehearsal scared. Right now I’m just really super excited. I think that the first, first day of school, as a lot of people call it, they’re always kind of scary.

Like you’re going to meet a lot of people. You’re going to read the script for the first time. You’re going to sit down and they’re going to see you.

And there’s always sort of like that. I I’m always like, did they make the right choice? I’m going to sit down and be like, Oh, we thought you were someone else. I’m always scared of like third day of school.

Cause first day of school you go in and someone’s brought muffins and you say hello to everyone and Hey, we’re going to put on a show. Isn’t this nice? And then you sit around and you get a design presentation and you look at all the toys and then you sit down and you read the play and everyone laughs. And isn’t it fabulous? And then the next day, like you sit and you, you tear the play apart around the table and you argue and you read.

And then like maybe day three is like, okay, let’s shove the tables aside and get on our feet. And I’m like, I don’t know how to walk. What do human beings do with their hands? I’ll hold this script that I won’t feel as awkward.

And you’re like, how have I ever done this before? What am I doing here? I don’t know how to walk. I don’t know how to talk like, and you’re feeling like sort of like this, like this empty vessel, like this, this disembodied creature, like, like you’re an alien who’s gone into someone’s body and doesn’t quite know how to make it move yet. Cause you’re I have to walk around and do something as this character, but I don’t know who they are yet.

It is the most awkward stage. Cause all you can really do is like do all the things that Hamlet says not to do is hold your script and saw the air. There’s a lot of, there’s a lot of just wild gesticulating cause you haven’t actually figured anything out yet.

And you feel like, am I, did I ever know how to do this? Yeah. Yeah. Like, please just tell me where to go and put me in a chair.

I feel less awkward about that as time goes on knock on wood, but yeah, I think it doesn’t matter how long it’s been. There’s always some kind of fright going into the beginning of a new show. I think I feel a little bit better now that I’ve talked to enough people that I know everyone feels that way.

And when you talk to actors, you’ve been, should that make me feel better or worse? Maybe it should make me feel worse. It’s like, Oh God, when I’m 60, I’ll still feel like, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. You know what though? If you didn’t, none of it would matter.

And then what would you still be doing? If you’re 60 and you don’t feel scared when you go into the first day of rehearsal, that by that time it means that none of it matters to you anymore. Yeah. And you’re just like, Oh, I’ll just pull out character three B. Yeah.

You should be like, I’ll do the thing I do in every show. You’d be like, Oh, the audience always likes it when I make this face. I wish your listeners could see that face that you just made.

Well, that’s the beauty of an audio medium is they can imagine that face. Thank you so much for doing this. It’s been a lot of fun.

Thank you so much. This has been a Homebody Productions production.