"I don't know why I'm frightened..." A Return to Form

10 years.

Unbelievable.  I was 31 when last I tread beneath the proscenium arch (thank you Llewellyn Sinclair) and looked up into a spotlight... then down into the faces of a live audience.

It's been 10 years since I was last on stage.  But as one of my beloved cast-mates pointed out last night -- as we celebrated post-opening show for the World Premiere of The Magnificent Ambersons at the 33-years strong Roxy Regional Theatre in Clarksville TN (yes, made famous by The Monkees song, "Last Train to Clarksville") -- "It's not 10 years anymore."

Indeed, the clock has been reset, and I've made my way back to my roots -- first established with a touring children's theatre out of Missoula -- some 30+ years ago.  The past many years have seen a marked shift in priorities and interests.  Screenwriting has taken over my free time, and now that I have no day job to interfere with my creative ventures -- the rest of my time as well.

So when my dearest college chum and fellow LA resident Maggie called me one morning -- oh, a little over a month ago, saying, "I have a proposition for you", there was nothing to stop me from taking a step into an almost-distant past.  Frankly, acting still held interest, but I never felt as though I'd ever again pursue it.  If something were to fall into my lap (as it did here), then by all means, I'd jump on it.

I've been telling numerous filmmaker friends back in LA that I want to read for them and be cast in their films.  I want to do it, but I don't have time to make it "my thing".  Hopefully these requests will not go unanswered.  'Cause, you know what?  I'm a good actor.  It pains me to say that or to actually acknowledge my strengths -- for fear of sounding pompous or self-important.  But facts are facts, and despite my ever-sagging and ever-present feelings of pitifully low self-worth, there are moments when I can actually bask in the idea that I am good at something.  Such as right now.

And with that, I'll return you to my regularly scheduled program of crippling uncertainty and debilitating self-doubt.

But here I am, in what is virtually a return to college-form -- sharing a townhouse in a small community north of Nashville -- with 8 other people (including my beloved Maggie) and rehearsing the hell out of two shows (the other being a trimmed production of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew).

Where am I?  What am I doing?

To put this in perspective:  The last show I did was with the good folks of The Griffin Theatre -- in CHICAGO.  You're saying, "But Michael, you haven't lived in The Windy City since 2008!"  Precisely.  And the Griffin production of Sleeping Ugly: The Musical was in the summer of 2006.  And therein lies the 10 year lapse.

But as I marvel at this strange return to acting, I'm struck my many things.

I'm so much older.  My body feels it.  My mind feels it.  But most of all, overused and cliche phrases such as, "It's like riding a bicycle" have wormed their way into my consciousness.  But it's the absolute truth.

As nervous as I was -- especially considering that my 10 year-absence would find me returning with Shakespeare, for Godssake -- it's as if no time has passed.  I remembered all of my old tricks for memorizing lines, for remembering entrances, for warming up, for clearing my mind, for building cheat sheets, for reacting but not drawing focus.  It all came back with ease, and now -- with no fanfare -- I'm an actor again.  It's absolutely surreal.

And for the past many weeks since the gig was thrown at me, I've had the phrase from this entry's title (from the musical version of Sunset Boulevard) swimming around in my head, "I don't know why I'm frightened.  I know my way around here."  It so perfectly captures this little side-line (will it be more?) in my current lifestyle.  And of course, the timing of all this hasn't gone unnoticed.  No day job.  No obligations.  And serious thoughts of looking for some acting projects.  Why, in my "To Do List Extravaganza (my fun form of New Year's Resolutions), entry #17 of 20 read like this:

17) Begin the flirtations with taking a possible look at sometime in the next year -- maybe thinking about kind of pursuing some acting scenarios again... how that goes, remains to be seen.

Yup.

The people have been remarkable, the connections have been made and the friendships have been formed.  But most of all, the ever-present strolls down the memory lanes of the theatre have been replaced by breath-taking sprints to my next entrance stage right -- IN THE HERE AND NOW.

I know I'm a sentimental old fool, and I realize how mental this all is.  But I'm at an age where apologizing profusely for my own real (and perceived) shortcomings is no longer of any interest.  I'm who I am -- and there's no changing that.  So by reveling in this joy of one of my all-time life-loves -- well, to hell with anyone that will mock my sentimentality.

It remains to be seen if I'll keep rushing out to find stage opportunities.  Frankly, my creaky old body is wondering what the hell is going on.  But I wouldn't be opposed to simply returning to the Roxy on an annual basis.  Keeping my acting chops moving, adding some credits to my resume, enjoying the hell out of the people and community and doing something I loved and still love -- but not going crazy or taking away from that equally time-consuming mistress -- writing.

But rather than hem and haw over what this all means -- I'll just enjoy the fact that I've still got it.  That I can still pull from my bag of tricks, and that the lure of a live audience is still as strong as it used to be.

The bottom line here:  I'm still an actor and I always will be.  Is it like a lapsed-Catholic?  I was a lapsed-actor until a few weeks ago?  Sure.  Feel free to use this newly-coined phrase.  You're welcome.

I hope to see you all in the audience for our second night of The Magnificent Ambersons.  And with a great show and great performances, you can also catch a glimpse of an actor who has always had that special sparkle in his eyes and that joy in his soul -- he just forgot about it for a little bit.