Hair Production

I have spent a lot of my life doing very few things, and that is sort of upsetting. I’m more eclectic than most, if I was one of you guys I’d kill myself, but I wish that my interests were a little more varied. I am a pseudo Actor/Producer/Writer/Musician/Arts-Teacher/Etc. and all of that is actually in the same field. If I was a Producer/eXtreme-Sportsman then I would rock.

Whatever, the fact is the two things I have done more than anything else, and that is acting and getting my hair cut.

You thought you were getting off easy.

Here’s the thing- the most difficult haircut to get is the one where you really like the haircut you have, but it’s about a week too long right now and you just want them to trim the tiny little bits off so you look like you looked two thursdays ago. It’s impossible. Every single part of your head needs it’s own maintenence, it’s own moment with the barber, and it all has to come together as some sort of even idea.

Theater is the same way, I’ve seen it from the perspective of the director, the writer, the music director, the actor, and to everyone you can’t figure out why so much time and money is being wasted on the other parts of the show. Hours and hours are spent with guys holding gels up to their eyes, with people moving you or a set piece over two feet.

But the fact is that you have to do all of these things. It’s insane, but it’s like a bad haircut if you don’t.

Some guys can get away with any old haircut. Some guys are so damn good-looking that they can get a *bad* haircut, they can do it themselves with a hand mirror and kitchen sheers, and they still are very handsome. For some guys, the shittiness of the haircut is part of the charm.

These are the pieces of theater that I find really appealing. Our show “The Lucretia Jones Mysteries” is sort of like this, especially now that we’re touring the show. In its initial production, the props started out all over the stage tables and ended up all over the floor. Mac had a joke where in the middle of one scene he dropped character, checked the lights, moved spots on stage and became another character and the place exploded in laughter.

Doing this show reminds me of the two times I’ve shaved my head. I’m not a great looking guy, but I have a really nice shaped head, and both times I shaved my head I was surprized and pleased by how awesome my life suddenly became.

I really do love big theater with big sets and coordinated light and sound cues, but “The Fantasticks” and “Children of a Lesser God” and our little show give me a thrill in a way that the bigger shows can’t really. It might be just what I’m going through right now, trying to simplify my life, but I’ve been through Tech Week hell for shows that suck, and believe me, it’s like a perm, highlights, streaking, body wave, gel and hairspray on a fifty year old Times Square hooker. You wonder why anyone did all that work.