by Val Lauren
I was ready to leave. Four years of training at Playhouse West had passed and it was the best education I had ever gotten, but I was starting to grow fidgety. A perfect piece of direction or a silent nod of approval from my guru and teacher Robert Carnegie was no longer enough to get me through the week and, in retrospect, I realize that was his plan all along.
It was Saturday early morning and I was chain smoking on the sidewalk in front of the theater, prepping for my scene that was up on stage next—Does a Tiger Wear a Necktie by Don Peterson. I was playing Beckam, a reckless kid being held against his will in a youth facility. In the scene, Beckam confronts his counselor and all hell breaks loose. All the pacing, cigarettes, and bad thoughts had worked up a good lather… I was on the verge of capturing that elusive “click” I needed to serve the scene… I could feel the click coming…
That’s about when I looked up to see a black Cadillac DeVille barreling directly toward me. It made a quick stop within a few feet of my person and out popped a ball of energy in a grey hoodie. It flew by me and into the front door of the theater.
Before I knew what’s what, I was alone again on the sidewalk…now completely distracted. Fifteen minutes of preparation and four cigarettes down the drain. The thoughts that replaced the previous went something like:
…Was that…? What the fuck is Scott Caan doing here? He left before I started at this school and he does movies now…he left before I started what the fuck is Scott Caan doing here…that’s a very nice Cadillac…he was the dude that literally stole Varsity Blues out from under every single actor in that movie and had me running out of the theater proud to be a member of Playhouse West what the FUCK is he doing here?…okay, think about your scene think about the scene…you are walking into the counselor’s office to demand…that Cadillac would have done some real damage if it hit me what the fuck is Scott doing here?
The front door of the theater opened again and my scene partner waved me in—times up.
My motivation for performing my scene changed in one instant and set me on fire—“Show Scott Caan that you can act.”
I feel bad for what I put my poor scene partner through on that day. The abuse was palpable.
After class, I cornered Scott outside with my trusted copy of Hurly Burly by David Rabe and asked him to read a scene from it with me and I guess my plan worked—he agreed.
We read right then and there on the sidewalk. An hour passed and we were now performing the thing with and for each other, pacing, smoking, and yelling Rabe’s lines on Lankershim Blvd.
That collaboration has been going on ever since and will continue to go on until it won’t—which is never ever.
The work that we have since created together, the theater culture that we have been exposed to, and the growth that comes along with it, has been my most cherished experience as an actor and I am thankful for it, for Scott, and for this book, which has been the backbone of everything above.
In this book lies a very particular and peculiar map into the human psyche. A very particular and peculiar music that if played just right, will reveal itself in its entirety—almost. The rest you will find in yourself.
The essential ingredient that is neccessary to making this book work is one and the same with the opportunity it presents—there must be enjoyment.