While standing in the lobby of the Matrix Theater last night I was approached by two homeless men, one African-American and one Anglo-Saxon. They walked in with a crowd of people, curious as to what was going on. They examined the lobby, with reviews of past productions on the walls and cast photos for the evening's presentation.
I sat silently, knowing no one around me. A beautiful brunette girl sat down next to me, eyelashes long and beating like hummingbird wings. People were starting to arrive and the lobby was getting full.
The black homeless man, looking like he was in his late 30s or early 40s, came up to me and asked me what was going on. I spied flecks of grey in his short natty dreads. He seemed to do all the talking for the two of them.
"Is this a play?" he asked me.
"I don't know. A friend invited me to come see her perform. '22 actors in 60 minutes'..." I pointed to the poster from whence my slogan was purloined.
"How much is it to watch?"
"It's free."
"Free?"
"Free."
"How long is it?"
"Oh, about an hour, judging from the ad."
"What's it about?"
"Not sure. I think it's scenes and sketches, mostly humorous."
There was going to be a reception after the show. I was hoping the two homeless guys, who didn't smell especially bad and were clothed decently enough, would stay and mingle with the uptight actor folk, who would never give these men the time of day if they'd been approached in the same manner.
These men were being watched by the staff. I know this because when I entered the theater to be seated, an usher asked me if I wanted to get a seat next to my 'friends'.
"But I'm here by myself," I told her.
She looked at me curiously. "Oh, I thought you were with those gentlemen over there," she said, and she pointed at the two men. The white one, a short surfer-looking guy with a Charlie Manson air to his good looks, looked back at me and smiled.
Maybe she made that assumption because I was dressed in ripped jeans. Either way, it kind of annoyed me but not enough for me to blow my stack.
I looked at her and said, "Just give me a seat please."
She sat me in the front row.
*/*
When the show was over, I went over to my friend, a tall ridiculously gorgeous black woman with whom I share not only a sweet friendship but also an impossibly hopeless chemistry. I congratulated her on her performance.
She introduced me to her scene partner, a Shannon Elizabeth look-alike with a slightly wider nose and a far greater range than her celebrity doppelganger.
There were a lot of look-alikes in the cast: One Latina actress, doing a scene from that one Matthew Perry-Salma Hayek movie, was a dead ringer for Fergie from Black-Eyed Peas; a sultry blonde who played Cybil Shepherd's Moonlighting character in her scene could be Anna Kournikova's tennis court understudy; and one particularly stunning actress (both in the looks department and in her acting skills) resembled Maggie Gyllenhaal, which is to say that she was attractive but in an extremely unconventional sense.
In addition to the look-alikes, there was one person in the crowd who really was who he looked like; unfortunately, not that many people know his name, even though they will surely know his face through the zillions of commercials he's been in over the years. Personally, I met him back at The Laugh Factory over six years ago, when he was doing stand-up. He was one of the few comics who was cool with me-- I had the unenviable task of soliciting money from comics to use their material for radio promotions. Most comics were happy to oblige, some of them were unable to due to contracts they'd signed, and still others just told me to get out of their faces.
He was one of the cool ones, but now the years have hardened him a bit. I admire the fact that he's still in the game, slugging it out, mentoring young actors and staying involved with the scene.
I didn't say anything to him, even though he knew my friend and her peers. I knew he wouldn't recognize me from all those years ago. What was I going to say? "Hey man, remember me? I used to tape your pedestrian comedy bits on DAT back in the days before you realized your calling and started doing commercials for snack foods and other household products! Glad to see you're still working!"
The Maggie Gyllenhaal look-alike kept staring at me. I could tell she was crazy-- the utter devastation of her performance on stage was one clue. Only a crazy girl could be that good at acting. Another clue was the stark gleam in her hazel eyes: usually the look of mania is accompanied by a sense that there is no one driving behind the wheel, but there was definitely something in her eyes, and it craved attention like a hungry lioness circling its prey. She passed by me three times as I stood by the far wall, engaged in small conversation with people I'd just met or just standing there by my lonesome, waiting to be pounced upon.
The Shannon Elizabeth look-alike came up to me and chatted me up for a spell.
"Has anyone ever told you..."
"That I look like Shannon Elizabeth?"
We both laughed.
"You must get that all the time, don't you?"
"Not really, but sometimes I do get it."
"You were great tonight-- the comic foil to the straight man, or in this case straight woman. How long did it take to prepare?"
"Six months."
"My God. And who found the source material?"
"I did. It was an unproduced TV movie pilot script. We thought it'd be perfect. Everyone else did popular movies or TV shows..."
"Yes, the Spider-Man sketch was quite hilarious."
"You know, I just saw that movie the other day on TV and when they started doing the dialogue tonight I was all like, 'Wow what a coinky-dinky!'"
I nodded gracefully. Bless her soul-- so squeaky and pert, so full of idealism and spunk. Will she make it in this town? She has the talent, but does she have the tenacity?
Speaking of tenacity, Maggie Gyllenhaal finally decided that she needed accolades from me. She walked right up to me and grabbed my wrist to see the time.
"Uh, my watch is slow. I'm waiting for Daylight Savings Time to go back an hour."
"Okay, so what time is it then?"
I wanted to say, "Time for you and me to go out back and get to know each other," but that one never works. So I said, "It's 9:30" and she dropped my wrist and walked past me as if to imply that time was of no importance to her.
I shrugged it off. I did not see her for the rest of the night.
They served beer and wine in addition to cheese and pastries at the reception. The homeless men were pounding down the Coronas like there was no tomorrow.
I stepped outside for a cigarette. A deliriously good-looking redhead asked me for a light. I gave her a light and walked away immediately. I didn't want to ponder it. I didn't want to find myself wondering what I was doing there.
How could I think of other women when I miss her so?
*/*
After saying farewell to my friend and her friends, I walked down Melrose towards my car. I passed a bus stop and saw the homeless guys sitting on a bench, waiting for the next bus.
"Hey guys," I called out, smiling. "How was the show? You enjoy it?"
The black guy turned around, recognized me, and smiled back. "Yes. We did. Thank you very much."
"Yeah, looks like you got some free booze out of it too, eh?" I shook their hands and warmed up to them.
The black guy then threw me for a loop by saying, "It was awesome to see creativity like that. Inspiring. Seeing niggers on the stage and not in the street. It gave me some hope, man. It made me think. Thank you."
I was moved, but of course I didn't let it show. "Come back tomorrow night-- they're doing it one more time."
"They're doing it tomorrow night too?"
"Yeah. And if you come tomorrow night, you can tell them about you coming tonight and how it made you feel. That will make them feel good, and who knows, maybe you'll meet someone who can give you even more inspiration."
They looked at me and smiled some more. "That's great. Thank you again, James. Peace be with you."
I walked off. I got halfway to my car before I realized that the black guy had called me by my first name. How did he know my name? Did he ask someone who was there who knew me? Did he overhear it when I was making conversation? Or did I tell him and simply forgot?
I got into my car and drove home, hitting a jag of traffic around the Cahuenga Pass but otherwise making great time.
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