My Fair Lazy - Jen Lancaster [49]
“Wait,” I say. “I liked the rocks. What was wrong with the set? How would you have done it?”
“Um, so, everything you saw? I’d have done the opposite,” she replies.
“Would you have put an elm onstage?” I ask.
“I’d probably have represented it in some form, yeah,” she replies.99
We chat a while longer and I take advantage of the open bar. I’m still a little raw and welcome the idea of anesthetizing myself. Eventually Stacey’s friends drift off to mock Desire with other people.
“Does that always happen?” I ask Stacey.
She nods. “Tough crowd.”
“That was seriously bitchy,” I note. “I like it. But you know what’s funny? I didn’t even know I didn’t enjoy Desire Under the Elms. Here I thought it was great until everyone told me why it wasn’t.”
“Theater’s subjective. That’s why I didn’t agree or disagree with what you thought of it—I wanted you to draw your own conclusions based on your own experience.”
“My conclusion’s entirely different after talking to all these experts.”
“Are you happy with how your conversation went?”
“I kept up, I said things that contributed to the overall dialogue, and I felt comfortable. You know why?” I ask. “Because I had confidence.”
Stacey gives me a high five. “Nicely done.”
We’re only alone for a minute before another of Stacey’s buddies joins us. I’m introduced to Todd and learn that he’s a Tony Award-winning scenic designer. Neat! I try to get some dirt out of him on his opinion of Desire, but he’s all closemouthed. I guess you don’t win big awards by denigrating potential employers.
Instead, I grill him about what it’s like to win a Tony.
“Did you watch the show?” he asks.
“Pfft. I hate award shows. I’m not winning anything, why should I watch?” I reply.
“Interesting point,” he concedes. “With the Tonys, for me it was a rush and it knocked the breath out of me to hear my name.”
“Maybe you were just better than all of them and that’s why you won,” I say helpfully.
Todd tells us, “I don’t look at it that way at all. It’s surreal just to be standing there and recognized in front of the people I admire.”
“And,” Stacey adds, “that’s not the whole story. Todd’s being modest. He’s also up for an Olivier Award in London next month.”
“Are you going to win?” I ask.
Todd shrugs. “That doesn’t matter. I’m honored just to be nominated in a group of—”
“No!” I blurt and bang my hand on the table. “Cut it out! That’s loser talk! Enough with this humility crap; I want to hear some confidence. You already won one award, so you totally know what to do next. You need to tell those other scenic guys they’re goin’ down! Taunt them! Talk smack! Tout yourself! Send them snapshots of your mantel with the Tony on it and point out where the Olivier’s gonna go. Be in their faces! That’s what’s going to win you an award.” I nod wisely.
“Hey, it’s about time I get that grilled cheese in you,” Stacey suggests. We extricate ourselves from the table and begin to say our good-byes. She hustles me out the exit while I call back to Todd, “Remember! Confidence! Talk like a winner! Be the ball, Danny! Be the ball!”
Okay, I see where I went off track here.
I ended the night with my own “Move your bloomin’ arse” moment. And I’d been doing so well.
And yet, later in the spring, when Todd wins the Olivier Award, I can’t help but feel a tiny bit responsible. Maybe for once my big mouth actually helped.
Also, I skip the next opening-night party Stacey invites me to.
I loved Old Glory, so I want to avoid hearing any experts at the next event telling me why I shouldn’t.
To: stacey_at_home
From: jen_at_home
Subject: Welcome home!
Hey! Hope you had fun in New York! Since you’ve been gone, I’ve joined Twitter—here are all my very important updates you’ve missed:
going all CSI to determine the stink in the family room. Cats