The Rise and Fall of a Theater Geek

by Seth Rudetsky

  I then heard a ding.

  It was a text from Devon.

  Wowza! I think we were both out of control last night.

  That was true. I wrote back, I agree. I’m sorry.

  The apologizing thing was getting easier!

  I read his next text as I walked toward the subway at Seventy-Ninth Street. We never finished talking about the perp/subject/Hubert. This sounds crazy, but I think he’s living somewhere on Eighty-Second Street.

  Talk about too little, too late.

  I didn’t want him to feel bad, though, so I texted back, Excellent spy work!!! Will fill you in on what develops today.

  Would anything develop? And even if it did, could I ever tell anyone?

  I walked to the subway and took it to Times Square. I decided I would go to the theater, but not to watch tech. I just wanted to say goodbye to Chase. I couldn’t bear to watch another horrible rehearsal. And I definitely didn’t have the stomach to watch the first public performance tonight while surrounded by people just dying to write mean things about Chase all over the Internet. Yes, according to the DVD he has a lot of talent, but it’s talent he’s keeping completely hidden for some reason. No matter how many times I tried to think of a plan, I realized I had no way of making him perform well tonight. If the director couldn’t do it, how could I?

  I was done with Chase and with Thousand-Watt Smile. If it’s painful and frustrating to watch his moronic acting/singing choices in rehearsal, it will be ten times worse watching it in front of an ever increasingly hostile/mirthful audience tonight.

  I got in the stage door, held my breath, and walked past Cigar Face. Right next to the call-board was a stack of brand-new Playbills. They must have just been printed and I couldn’t resist taking one and putting it in my backpack for reading later. I walked farther into the theater, passing some actors going to their dressing rooms and some just arriving. Rehearsal wouldn’t officially begin for another hour, but I knew Chase always arrived early to warm up. I walked to his dressing room but stopped in front of it. The door was closed for some reason. That’s weird. Chase always keeps his door open. Was he not here yet? Hmm…maybe he decided to sleep in today to rest up for tonight’s Gypsy run-through.

  I knocked a few times and was about to walk away when I heard a soft “Come in.”

  Why so soft?

  I slowly opened the door and poked my head in, but Chase wasn’t there.

  Was he in the bathroom?

  “Chase?” I said tentatively.

  I was right.

  I heard the water running in the bathroom and then saw Chase come out wearing his Scene One cowboy costume.

  But something seemed off.

  How weird! He was actually wearing one of the cowboy costumes the boys in the chorus wear, yet he had on the Stetson hat he wears for the whole show.

  Why would Chase wear his hat but someone else’s costume?

  Then I realized why.

  It wasn’t Chase.

  I stood in Chase’s dressing room and stared at the man in front of me, who I now recognized.

  “Hi…,” I said to the man who I realized was Mickey Hendrix, one of the ensemble guys. In reality, he didn’t look anything like Chase (black hair, dark eyes, and at least three inches taller), but seeing him in Chase’s dressing room wearing a similar costume and Chase’s hat made me think it was Chase.

  “Hi, Justin,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Mickey. I remember when Chase introduced you a few days ago.”

  “Right…,” I said, completely wigged out. He was so completely calm. Had he murdered Chase and was wearing his hat in triumph? Was Chase alive but tied up in the bathroom right now?

  Mickey sat down at the makeup mirror.

  I checked to make sure the door was open in case I needed to make a run for it.

  “Oh, man! I’m scared,” he said while powdering down his face. “Well, excited and scared.” Then he laughed. “That’s a lyric by Sondheim.”

  Hmph. He didn’t have to tell me that. I had at least three recordings of Into the Woods.

  “Why?” I asked, nervous for what the answer could be. Was it “exciting” to kidnap Chase? But now he’s “scared” of getting caught?

  He kept powdering. “Today’s dress rehearsal, buddy! It’s both a dream and a nightmare.”

  He still wasn’t making sense.

  “What is?” I said, sounding impatient.

  He stopped powdering and turned toward me. “I’m going on this afternoon! For Chase.” Then he pointed to his hat. “That’s why I’m dressed like this. I’m his understudy.”

  What?

  Was Chase sick?

  “What happened?” I asked nervously.

  Mickey gave me an enormous smile. “Nothing happened. Our fearless director wanted to give Chase the afternoon off before his first big performance. I mean, the guy’s been rehearsing nonstop. He must be exhausted.”

  Oh, I thought, that’s nice of Peter.

  He started putting on his cowboy boots. “It’s so early in the run that they haven’t made me my own official understudy costumes, so I’m wearing what I normally wear in the show and adding the Chase costume pieces that fit.” He tipped his hat, or should I say Chase’s hat. “Like this…Thank goodness the swing is ready to go on for me.” Then he started explaining even though I already knew what he meant. “A swing is another word for understudy. There’s a female swing and a male swing and if anyone in the ensemble is out, the swing goes on for them. So Ned is on for me this afternoon.”

  I know all about understudies and swings, but things started to not add up.

  “Have a good rehearsal!” I said as I walked out of the dressing room. I needed a chance to think things through.

  I stood in the wings of the stage and watched some dancers stretching out on the stage.

  Hmm…Peter thought it was better for Chase to rest this afternoon?

  I stared at the dancers and finally came to the conclusion that this understudy situation was indeed bizarre. And as I stared at one particular dancer with his shirt off, I also came to the conclusion that I have to cut out carbs entirely. But back to Peter giving Chase an afternoon free. They must have ju-u-u-ust finished teching Act Two last night. That means that this afternoon would have been Chase’s only chance to run the whole show before his first public performance. In other words, the very first time he’ll perform Thousand-Watt Smile from start to finish will be in front of an actual audience.

  It made no sense. Who cares if he’s a little tired? His (probably awful) performance tonight will definitely suffer because he hasn’t had a chance to experience how the scenes and songs will flow together while in costume with the orchestra and with all the backstage quick costume changes he has to make.

  Well, there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t ask Peter why he was making such a dumb choice. And I couldn’t make Chase give a better performance.

  I took one last look at the stage and walked away. I then breathed deeply, held it in, and walked past tobacco alley and out the stage door.

  It was a sunny but cold day and I waited for the M104 bus to take me to Grandma Sally’s.

  There was no one I could really talk to about this. I didn’t want to hang out with Becky until she had time to forget how crazy I acted last night. And I spent the morning avoiding Spencer’s calls and texts (he left another message, which I deleted without listening to), because I didn’t want him to give me a lecture about last night’s crazy behavior. And even though Devon and I apologized to each other, I was still feeling distant toward him. The whole boyfriend thing with him seemed forced. He has so many personality traits that are annoying. Personality traits that I guess I also have, but they’re kind of adorable on me. Or at least, Spencer thought they were. I knew I should probably say goodbye to Chase face to face, but I wasn’t feeling up to hanging out all day in the city just for that. Especially because he’d ask why I wasn’t staying for the Gypsy run-through. How would I answer? �
�Because I actually like you and I can’t bear to watch you become a laughingstock?”

  Sunday is the worst time to take a bus because they run on a much slower schedule. My ears started to freeze because the wind was picking up. Wait a minute. My ears were freezing because I forgot my hat in Chase/Mickey’s dressing room.

  Argh!

  I turned around and walked back to the theater.

  I did my signature breath holding as I walked past the stage doorman literally mid-spit, and I knocked on Chase/Mickey’s door.

  He opened it and smiled when he saw me.

  “Hey there, Justin. Did you come back to wish me luck?”

  “Sure did!” I said with a smile. “I also came back because I forgot my hat and it’s freezing outside.”

  He handed it to me with a sad face. “You’re not leaving, are you? It would be nice to have someone in the audience who’s not taking notes.”

  I knew what he meant. It’s hard to give a great performance when everyone watching is somehow involved with the show. No one is there to enjoy it. They’re there to work on it and see the problems that need fixing.

  “I can’t,” I began, “I need to get back to my—”

  “Oh, come on,” he interrupted. “At least stay for the first act.”

  Well…as loyal as I felt to Chase, I was curious to see Mickey go on. First of all, it’s always cool when I see a new actor play a role I’ve seen before because I love to compare and contrast performances. So far I’ve seen three different guys play the Phantom and it’s great seeing the variations in how they play the part. Secondly, I had to be honest: Chase was brutally terrible in the part. A part of me wanted to see what the show would be like with a real Broadway pro playing the lead.

  I decided to stay. At least for a little bit.

  “You convinced me, Mickey,” I said, taking off my coat. “Have a great time. I’ll make sure to laugh and clap extra loud.”

  I took the backstage door that led to the audience. I could hear the orchestra tuning up. I could also hear Peter talking with the staff behind the table.

  “The conductor has all the new cues,” said Gary, passing out sheets of paper.

  “And the cast?” said Peter, pronouncing it “cahst.”

  “Yes,” said Gary, sounding exasperated. “I told you they were all emailed last night.”

  Ooh! There were changes! I was excited to see some new stuff.

  “I just want to make sure everyone knows what’s different,” said the ever-nervous Peter, mopping sweat from his forehead with his scarf. I kept expecting the scarf to be stained black from the copious amount of dye he must slather in his hairdo.

  “Why are y’all acting like it’s a bushel of new stuff?” said Jim Bob.

  I shook my head and thought, Why do Southern people always find a way to put “y’all” in a sentence? He easily could have said “you both.” Anyway, back to eavesdropping.

  “Ain’t nothin’ hard about it. It’s just my original script. They memorized it once. It’ll all come back to them lickety-split.”

  Excellent! It seems like the changes Chase made were being changed back. I was so relieved he finally agreed! Hmm…maybe tonight wouldn’t be a catastrophe after all. Chase would get an afternoon to rest up and those unfunny jokes and bizarre lines he added would be out. Of course, his singing and staging would still be a travesty, but at least the actual lines he said wouldn’t invoke the world’s first ever entire-theater-eye-roll.

  The staff stopped talking as the lights in the audience dimmed. I rushed up to the third row for a better view and the orchestra began playing the opening. After a few measures, Mickey walked onstage. He looked great. Handsome and really confident. He began singing the opening and for the first time, I was able to hear the melody and the lyrics. Wow! It was a great song. It’s too bad the audience tonight wouldn’t be able to hear it.

  I sat there watching the show and got more and more frustrated. Mickey was fine in the role, but if Chase put in the same effort to play this part as he did to play Don Quixote, he’d be amazing. First of all, Chase is much more suited to the role because when he’s in costume he really looks like a Wild West gangster. For whatever reason, Mickey looks like a skinny, fit dancer who’s playing a gangster. Plus, Mickey can sing all right but he sounds like a guy with a pleasant voice. On that Man of La Mancha video, I could hear that Chase’s voice was unique. Strong but with a tone that added a sweet vulnerability.

  I thought I would enjoy the run-through, but it actually put me in a worse mood. Mickey knew the lines and the songs, but that’s all he was. Someone saying the lines and singing the songs. The whole time I was aware that I was watching an actor. I never once thought he was a gangster with a heart of gold. Thankfully, intermission came and I decided to leave. I walked up the aisle to exit, but when I passed the staff table, I slowed down because I heard Jim Bob’s loud voice and I couldn’t resist a final chance to eavesdrop. I did the ol’ sit-two-rows-behind-to-listen routine.

  “I told you!” said Jim Bob, sounding ecstatic. “He’ll be fantastic tonight!”

  Who’ll be fantastic tonight?

  Gary spoke next in a much lower voice. “I’ve spoken to costumes and they’re confident it’ll be fine if he wears his own costumes. He’s got Chase’s hat, which looks great.”

  “Sure does,” said Jim Bob. “And whatever looks bad, no one will care about. It’s the first week of previews!”

  “But—” Peter began.

  Gary held up a finger and kept talking. “The good news is, by the end of the week’s performances, we’ll be able to alter the rest of Chase’s costumes so they’ll fit him.”

  Holy crap! They weren’t putting Mickey on this afternoon to give Chase a rest. They were rehearsing Mickey to take over the role!

  Chase is being fired! I had to do something.

  I ran into Gary while I was walking up the aisle.

  “So,” he asked me, “what do you think of Mickey?”

  “He’s fine,” I said. “But…”

  He looked around. “I know. He’s not right.”

  “Is he going on tonight?” I brazenly asked.

  Gary looked surprised. “Did you talk to Chase?” he asked me.

  “A little…” That answer meant nothing, but apparently it relaxed Gary enough to spill everything.

  “I’m sure he’s upset, but if he went on tonight, we’d close before we even opened. Yes, the show needs a big name, but the producer thinks we’ll get a ton of publicity because an understudy is taking over for a star. We’ll probably be able to run a couple of months instead of having to close in a week.”

  “But,” I said a little desperately, “the show is good. And having a celebrity in the lead role would guarantee a long run.”

  “Who?” Gary asked. “It’s too late. The show has so much bad press attached to it that no star would wanna touch it. This is really the best solution.”

  And with that I heard the stage manager call, “Places.”

  I thought about it. It’s one thing for Chase to give horrible performances and for the show to close. He could always say the show was bad and he did the best he could. Even if people write about how terrible he was, he could always blame it on bad direction.

  But being fired would be a deep public embarrassment.

  I definitely couldn’t stay to watch Act Two.

  I had to find Chase and figure out a way to save him and this musical!

  As soon as I got outside, I started walking toward Eighth Avenue and got out my phone. I was so thankful Chase had given me his number so I didn’t have to go through evil Hubert.

  Ah! The battery was red! I must have forgotten to plug it in last night because I was so distracted from watching that DVD. Well, all I needed was enough power to make one phone call.

  He answered after the first ring. “Hello?”

  “Chase? It’s Justin.”

  “Hey, Justin,” he said, sounding somber.

  I decided to pl
ay dumb. “Where are you?” I asked. I needed to speak to him face to face.

  “Well, it’s a long story, but I’m not at rehearsal. I’m actually in my apartment and—”

  “I’ll see you in five minutes,” I interrupted. “My phone’s almost out of juice and I need to see you!” I hung up and hailed a cab that was barreling up Eighth.

  I didn’t want Chase to tell me not to come and he seems too polite to not let me in once I showed up.

  Of course, I’m assuming Hubert isn’t with him. That one would have no problem barring my entry.

  I got out of the cab, approached the doorman kiosk, and told him my name.

  The doorman got on his phone and after a minute, he told me the apartment number and pointed me in the direction of the elevators. Yes! I had hoped that I’d see the inside of the Dakota when I began this internship and it was finally happening.

  The elevators opened into a very wide hallway and I walked to apartment 8F.

  As I knocked, the door swung open on its own. I leaned my head in.

  Wow.

  The apartment was beautiful. Open and airy. Hardwood floors. Sparingly but beautifully decorated. And gorgeous views of the park.

  I pushed the door all the way open. “Knock, knock,” I said as I walked in. Argh! When will my mom stop making appearances through my mouth?

  “Come in, Justin.” Chase was sitting on a long white leather couch. He was wearing sweatpants and a ratty T-shirt.

  “Sorry I’m all sweaty. You know how it is after you hit the gym.”

  I nodded, which was my way of pretending I’d ever been to a gym.

  “Listen, Chase, I hate to barge in here, but I stopped by rehearsal and—”

  “Justin. They fired me.”

  So he knew.

  “Oh, Chase, I’m so sorry,” I said, sitting down at the other end of the couch. Just because I felt sympathy didn’t mean I wanted to be in the radius of his gym sweat. P.U.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said. “There was no warning. Nothing. The director was always friendly to me.”