Saturday,
July 18, 2009
NEVERMORE
Many
moons ago, when the earth was young and Ann Coulter roamed the plains,
I developed a Squeeing FanGirldom(TM Esther Friesner, all rights reserved)
for a young actor named Jeffrey Combs, who rose to fame in horror classics
such as RE-ANIMATOR and THE FRIGHTENERS. Trek fans will know him from
his numerous characters in three of the ST incarnations, and he's appeared
in a variety of non-genre TV shows such as CSI and COLD CASE.
Tonight, after waiting for 22 years, I've finally gotten a chance to see him live on stage in NEVERMORE, a one-man play that recreates one of Edgar Allen Poe's touring lectures and follows his descent into sorrow, loss and madness. To say that this show is wonderful is to do it a disservice -- it's an absolutely stupendous piece of writing by Dennis Paoli and direction by Stuart Gordon. But the central focus is on Combs as Poe, and Jesus God, but the man can act.
Look, performing in a one-man play is never easy. Performing in a one-man play without an intermission, where you breathe life into an increasingly drunk and erratic Poe, cover the emotional range between out-and-out belly laughs and the blackest of sorrow, leap about like a crazed man while reciting "The Bells," fall off stage while begging your disgusted fiancee not to go, and leave every member of the audience stunned with your agonizingly powerful recital of "The Raven" -- if that isn't a masterful achievement of stagecraft, I don't know what is.
Meanwhile, best...birthday present...ever!
I was sitting in the front row with the woman who runs the Combs Corner, and since this is a faux recital Combs actually talks to the audience, so we got a couple of comments directed at us (I played along, since I was well-trained by the Nathan Lane of Mid-Central Illinois Dinner Theater). But we were also sitting on the far edge of stage right, where he was supposed to take a scripted fall off stage after giving a very iconoclastic performance of "The Bells." Now, I knew this was going to happen, and even tucked my feet under my chair to make more room, but I got so wrapped up in the performance that I kinda forgot what was going to happen--
--and was abruptly reminded when he suddenly went *airborne* right in front of me, landing in a heap at my feet. I actually lunged forward in my seat, grabbing for him on autopilot before remembering, "No, it's part of the act, don't touch...uh...he's not getting up...um, is he okay?"
(I assumed he'd take some sort of gentle stumble offstage -- more fool me. This was, after all, the man who leapt on Harold Gould in SKIN OF OUR TEETH like Simba taking down a wildebeest. )
As it turned out, he was fine. And in retrospect I probably should have checked on him -- I think he was angling for more audience participation. But now I can say, hand on my heart, that the highlight of my birthday month was having Jeffrey Combs at my feet. And the icing on the cake? After taking his bow, he started walking off stage, then turned and gave me this little "gotcha" grin. Yay!
And as if it couldn't get any better
So I land at Burbank Airport for my Awfully Big Adventure, get to the Alamo counter, and request my car.
"Oh, you're eligible for an upgrade," the clerk says. "Would you like a Dodge Charger?"
I channel my inner Homicide captain, grin and say, "Hell yes."
And lo, I am now driving a cherry red Charger for the next 24 hours. Can't wait to get that puppy on the highway, yes indeedy!