To All the Previews I've Loved Before

About the author:
The multi-talented John Bolton, who is starring in many roles in the new off-Broadway show, Five Course Love, has been on the Broadway stage in Damn Yankees, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, Titanic, Contact. He also recently served as an understudy for several leads in Spamalot. Like most actors, Bolton always wants to appear in front of audiences when he is at his best--a desire that is at loggerheads with the dreaded preview period the time before a show officially opens and is reviewed by critics. Here, Bolton shares an insider's look into previews he has endured--some more happily than others.

I'm a Capricorn. A classic Capricornian trait, besides being a workaholic, is the desire to be in control of your work and to only show yourself at your best. Unfortunately, this conceit is contrary to the very idea of the theatrical preview and now, in the middle of previews for the otherwise delightful Five Course Love, I am once again reminded of how much I loathe them.

I like to know what I'm doing--have both my mind and body completely comfortable with the show so I am free to perform it. When a show is in previews, days are spent writing, staging, restaging and teching new material and nights are spent performing the "old" version to an audience that isn't seeing a finished product. Sometimes I want to greet them all personally as they exit the theater and tell them about the exciting new changes that are going in. My bosses don't usually like that.

But whenever I'm in previews, be it Broadway, off-Broadway or anywhere, one thought always gets me through: I previewed Titanic. I can preview anything.

Titanic's previews are now legendary. A closer look at Titanic's early days can teach us a lot of things. Like when you start previews it's usually a good idea to have finished teching Act Two. Previews are when we learn if there's really enough time for that costume change, how long a fake mustache will adhere to a sweaty face, just how slippery the floor will get with full fog effect, and that ocean wreckage that looks like whale poop will get booed. We also learn that the song being performed with only a piano playing along is probably brand new, that when an actor flubs his lyrics chances are they were scrawled on a paper towel and handed to him just before curtain and that when the show is stopped because of technical difficulties once it's exciting, but when it's stopped eight times, all you want to do is die. Sometimes the show has to stop completely and everyone: cast, crew and audience gets sent home. That's always good for morale.

Fortunately, the show was guided toward some excellent changes and Maury Yeston's sublime score and Peter Stone's beautifully crafted book were able to shine through. Those of us in the cast bonded forever through the whole roller-coaster ride of it all.

Most actors keep themselves in mental previews long after opening night, finding new moments, new connections, new ways of listening to and living with the characters around them. Each performance is a work in progress, with variables unique to the here and now.

Some shows change very little during previews. Contact barely changed a syllable or an eight-count from workshop to previews to opening. Some shows, however, morph quite a bit.

Some previews I have known and loved:

Paper Moon, a beautiful show with real promise that would have probably done well in what turned out to be a weakish season--where we cut several of Larry Grossman's wonderful songs and endlessly restaged other ones. Fun, evocative new characters whose words always rang true appeared one day and were killed off the next as scenes were rethought and reworked. The decision not to open as planned at the Marquis Theatre was a real heartbreaker for the terrific cast and creative team. Crazy P.S.: I wound up at the Marquis anyway that season as an early replacement in Damn Yankees.

The Opposite of Sex, where we made several excellent changes that really helped the show. Many times new scenes and songs aren't always better ones, but here they were. Plus, speaking the lines of one of my favorite writers and the experience of exploring new material with the superb cast was a thrill.

Spamalot, where, as standby to the leads, all I did during previews was pray that no one missed until I had had at least one rehearsal. Our first day in Chicago, the stage manager told Jimmy Ludwig and me, "Learn what you can--if I have to throw you on I will," and Jimmy and I immediately went into our own private Monty Python Boot Camp, where we both learned the entire ever-changing script, blocking and choreography for all of the roles in the show in a hotel suite in Chicago.

And now Five Course Love, where each preview brings us closer to finding the show's legs, its heart, its pace, its sense, its nonsense, its life. Gregg Coffin's score is a blast to sing from start to finish, and I am lucky enough to be sharing the stage and 15 roles with Heather Ayers and Jeff Gurner, two freakishly talented people. And whether you see the show now or long after opening, just remember: I'm still in previews.