So, Tyler, How'd You Get Into Acting? (Part 2: The Later Years)

Where did I leave off?

Ah. Okay.

Megan Hunt, and Village Theatre. That whole thing. Okay. Let me go back a year or two, then I'll pick it up where I left off.

So, my mother, God bless her, has always been my biggest fan. I know that's a cliche, and I know everyone loves their mother, and blah blah blah. But my mom is the only person who's seen every stinking acting job I've ever done, from the lowliest student-written one-act when I was in colelge, to the fanciest professional theater gigs.

Honestly, I would never have actually pursued my dreams of "acting professionally" if it hadn't been for the selfless commitment from my mother. Now, she didn't "push me into it," and she was never behaved like those irritating "stage moms" that I got to know and love in my adult life. But at the same time, whenever my motivation flagged (which happens far too often for me), she'd sign me up for classes or auditions, and drive me all over the east end of Lake Washington to make sure I was able to keep doing what I loved. All the while she was working two (sometimes three or four) jobs as a single mother of four. I know, I know, it's a cliche...and I'm sorry for the excessive "mother love" in this opener...but it needs to be said. This whole "acting thing" that I love to do was made possible because of her.

And that brings me to my connection with Village Theatre. My mother concluded that, since I was showing a lot of interest in "the acting," I should take some "acting classes." Another contributing factor was that I, very briefly, had a "talent agent" in the 5th Grade. This agency, "Kid Stars," was located at a big office in downtown Bellevue. The office had lots of glass, shiny desks, big bulletin boards, and professional-looking headshots plastered all over the walls. After reading a monologue for one of the agents, they decided to sign me onto their roster. Over the course of the next year they booked me on a grand total of two auditions -- a "cattle call" for a Sears commercial, and an "Unsolved Mysteries" audition. I absolutely bombed both of those...especially the second one, which involved a lot of awkward laughter, confusion, and flop sweat (I was asked to "improv" a scene, and since I'd never "improv'd" before, I made a complete and utter ass of myself). Anyhow, after these two fails, it was apparent to everyone involved that, in spite of my storied "community theater" career...I was not quite ready to take the "next step."

So, to remedy my severe "lack of training," my mother decided to enroll me in some acting classes. I never asked her to enroll me....and I may have even openly resisted it...but I'm glad as hell that she made me go (it was one of those great "ignoring your kids" moments that parents ought to do more often). One of the first classes that I attended was taught by a woman named Megan Hunt, who was teaching a class offered through Village Theatre's "KidStage" program.

The class itself wasn't all that memorable, honestly. We'd read scenes. We'd do improv games. And, for our "parent showcase," we'd rehearse a few sketches from the movie Free To Be...You & Me. I enjoyed the class, and I thought I was doing pretty well in it.


This is one of the sketches we performed; I played a tiger.

I guess I was doing well, because after the showcase was concluded, Megan approached me and asked me if I'd like to audition for the upcoming Village Theatre production of "Narnia." This would be a far cry from the community theater productions I'd done up to that point, and, were I to get cast in the show, I'd be working at a bona fide professional theater. Megan was, incidentally, the daughter of the executive producer (and founder) of the theater, Robb Hunt, so I had a pretty good "in."

So I auditioned...and holding with tradition, I absolutely blew it. I was awful. I sang "A Whole New World" from Aladdin, but forgot the words about halfway through. That, and my knees were trembling horribly throughout the audition...and I'm fairly certain that my voice cracked (which is a safe bet for any 12 year old boy).

Needless to say, I was not cast. Or called back. Or probably even "thought about" by the casting people once I'd walked out of the room.

Luckily for me, I got a second chance to redeem myself with Village Theatre. Seems that Megan was slated to direct "Bye Bye Birdie" the following summer, for the KidStage summer show. Apparently, the KidStage program also sponsored a separate, full-length show...which was produced, designed, and performed by "kids" aged 4-20. All done under the watchful eyes of Village Theatre.

Well, I don't remember anything about my Bye Bye Birdie audition (honestly...I can't remember a dang thing...and I really tried), but it must have gone well, because I was cast as "Charles F. Maude, the Bartender," among other smaller roles.

I had a blast that summer, and I was hooked. I went back to do the KidStage show in Issaquah every summer for the next five years. There, I met some truly talented and dedicated people, who inspired me, and stoked my love for acting. I still keep in touch with many of them, who (like myself) have gone on to work professionally in the business.

However, there were two definitive moments that convinced me (beyond a shadow of a doubt) that "acting" would always be in my future.

he first happened during the school year, months before I was cast in Bye Bye Birdie. When I was in the 7th grade, I found out that there was a "play" being produced by the choir director (a former beauty queen). This was great news for me, because Kenmore Jr. High did not have theater classes of any kind...so it was a chance for me to be around some like-minded individuals, and show off my fancy acting talents.

The turn-out for the audition was huge...with over 100 people auditioning. I was one of those hopefuls, and I managed to get cast in one of the lead roles -- a jester who opened the show with a monologue (that I still remember to this day, for some reason), and conducted the show-within-a-show. It was called "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Heir," and was intended to be performed as dinner theater.

I'll never forget, though...that first rehearsal. I was a painfully awkward, greasy, acne-scarred, badly-dressed stick of a puberty-riddled 13-year-old. The script called for the Jester character (me) to be "flirted with" by a random female character. The actress slated to do the flirting was named Heidi Schiller...and she was, to me, maybe the prettiest girl at Kenmore Jr. High. And she was supposed to flirt. With me. Whoa.

So we were blocking the scene, and I was fully prepared for (nay, completely expecting) her to either half-ass it, or outright ignore the blocking notes. But no, she jumped right in, and started rubbing up against me, and running her hands all over me. It was, in a word: "totally freaking amazing."

Funny, because four years later, Heidi died in a car crash driving home from a high school football game. I never really got to thank her for giving me some confidence when I really needed it. Too bad.

Okay, sorry, I'm kidding. She's still alive, and we actually became fairly good friends after we ended up going to the same college. But man, the car crash thing would make a much better story, wouldn't it?

I digress.

Anyhow, rehearsals were going great, but unfortunately, the show never ended up happening. One Friday, about two weeks into the rehearsal process, the beauty-queen-turned-choir-director called the cast (of about 70) into a meeting in the choir room. There, in a super-classy move, she blamed the students for not being dedicated enough, and canceled the performances (when, in fact, she'd really just got in over her head with a project that she had been half-assing the entire time).

So, no more flirting with Heidi for me. In fact, for the rest of my junior high career, my extra-curricular activities where limited to sports (and I really hated the jocks at our school), and band (where I liked the people, didn't earn any "popularity points"). The lack of school-run theater pretty much ruined my chances at social interaction from grades 7-9...but that's another story for another blog.

Anyhow, that set me down the path to a career in acting. Moment #2 sealed my fate. This moment occured during the run of "Bye Bye Birdie." At a certain point during the show, I was supposed to cross backstage after one of the musical numbers (let's just say "Ed Sullivan" for the sake of picking a number from the show). It was a pretty small space, so you learned pretty fast how to walk about quickly and safely from point A to point B.

Now, when we finally started performances, I received one of the greatest surprises I'd ever had, up to that point in my life. As I was crossing behind the stage, I walked by a "quick-change" station, where some of the older girls were changing for the next scene. And I got to witness something that would change my life forever. Wonder of wonders...I saw a group of women dressed only in their undergarments, changing for the next scene.

It was...simply put...a revelation. I was hooked.

Because, sure, I love the art. I love the rush of adrenaline. I love creating something I can be proud of. And I love performing.

But most of all, I love the ladies. That's why I do what I do.

Okay, that's not true.

Well, it's partly true.

Fine, it's mostly true. I got into acting to meet women. Happy? It's the same thing that motivated Picasso, Van Gogh, Shakespeare, Carrot Top, Mozart, and countless other womanizing (but talented) freaks before me. And shoot, it worked, didn't it? I married way, way, WAAAY above my station in life...and that was only possible because I met the lady doing a show. In fact, I met all three of my serious girlfriends doing theater. Not too shabby...

So, in my fantasy future, when I'm asked, "How'd you get into acting?" I'll say: "Well, I saw a chick in her bra backstage during a show one time, and I decided that I'd like to see that more often." Might not have the poetry of a more artistically-based response...but at least it'd be honest.