T...T...T...Timing

Deb: They say timing is everything. It certainly is in my business. That is, the business of being a comedic actor. The truth is, without timing you are not a comedian. I bring this up because I was watching a documentary called All About Me, hosted by and about the great Katherine Hepburn. In it she says, “I came on the scene at just the right time wearing pants and sporting an athletic style and a strong-willed attitude. It was just the right time for ‘my style’ and so I became a star.” I am paraphrasing that comment as I did not memorize exactly what she said, but that is the gist of it—and I put it in quotes so you would know it was her saying that more or less. Can I be sued for that?

It got me thinking about timing. Timing in life. When I was a kid I so wanted to be a STAR. Being a successful actor was not enough. I wanted the world to see what I could do. I loved the limelight and would put on shows in my basement, garage, the cottage lawn, you name it. And I was always the STAR. A classic example of my take no prisoners you are going to notice and love me if it kills me attitude was when we did Bye Bye Birdie at the cottage to raise money to keep the local bingo game going. Please feel free to re-read that last sentence ... hilarious is it not?

Anyway, we were doing Bye Bye Birdie and I was of course Kim MacAfee, the Ann Margaret role, and my cousin Pam who is a really talented singer, and clearly too sweet for her own good, was playing Albert Peterson, the Dick Van Dyke role. But here’s the thing. I loved the song Put on a Happy Face, so I explained to Pam, who I love, that I needed to do that song too and of course Pam, being sweet Pam, relented. Every time I think of that story I howl with laughter. The nerve of me, honestly! But you see, I justified it as being for the good of the production. I was, after all, the future STAR.

Cut to: Not a STAR. Wasn’t in the cards clearly. Now some may say it’s because I wasn’t good enough and that may well be true. But I wonder about the timing of it as part of the reason. When I joined the famed Second City in Toronto, I was in a cast of hugely talented people. The cast before us was most of the SCTV people, and I remember thinking at that time, that we had just missed the boat, that timing had not been on our side. And so it has gone for me, my entire career.

Now please do not mistake what I am writing. I am not crying the blues here at all. I am perfectly happy with how things turned out for me. I love my life. Hell, I love life, period. Every second of it. Good and bad. And I also don’t have the sleep patterns to be a STAR! I would go to the Oscars, yes, but would fall asleep on my way to the Governor’s Ball. See? Wasn’t meant to be. On the other hand, when I married my lovely husband, he was a talented but struggling improviser/actor. When I fell in love with him I thought, Great, marrying an improviser! This will pay off in spades!!!  But timing was on his side. He came up just at the time that this old form of performing was going to go viral. His timing was great. It was nothing he did. It was just his time. He brought the talent and timing did the rest.

We all want timing to be with us, don’t we? No matter what we do in life we want something we have said or done to be on the cutting edge. We want one of our ideas or business reports or skills to be ahead of the curve. We want to be fresh and new or to kick off a trend or to see our dreams realized. But it doesn’t happen to all of us and it doesn’t always happen to the deserving (insert Snooky, Kardashian, Paris Hilton photos). But sometimes it is meant to be. So is it fate? Or is it timing? Or is it both? Or is timing a part of fate?

When Colin and I were first married, my STAR was on the rise. Many people have asked me about this and how I feel about being married to someone famous or, as my husband calls himself, “a small ‘c’ celebrity”. People have asked me if I am disappointed with the way things turned out. YES, THEY HAVE, you KNOW it’s true!!! “Gee, I thought you were going to be a STAR, what happened?” Ahhhh, the subtlety of people ... anyway, that’s for another blog.

And here is what I have to say about that. I am a STAR. I am the STAR of my own life. I think I was meant to STAR in my own life-story while it was going on. Who would play me in the Deb McGrath Story? I would, of course! And I do. I am the STAR of Deb McGrath’s life. I have a beautiful trailer which is my home and it resides on a gorgeous set which is our yard and my catering is done by the STAR Colin Mochrie. My wardrobe is perfect for me as if I bought it myself! I watch the Oscars on TV and if I fall asleep in the middle of them it doesn’t matter. No one is taking photos of my cellulite and posting them in the national rags. As for timing? It has been on my side every step of the way. Only it took me a while to realize it.

“Knock, Knock”

“Who’s there?”

“Interrupting cow.”

“Interrupting cow wh..

“MOOOOOOOOO”

Timing is everything.

Barbara: This is sooo interesting, timing-wise! (How many times have we all noted the serendipity of timing here on the blog?!) We were just, all of us here, talking about this. You know, I know a LOT of people who believe (when we speak of it in hushed tones amongst ourselves (who are only the nearest and dearest and most trusted in our lives)) that we/they are/were “destined for greatness”. Those very words: “for greatness”. From young and old alike I’ve heard the term.

My friend and I used to talk often about feeling we were “meant” to live “extraordinary” lives and not “ordinary” ones. The thing is, those of us who feel it, who believe it, who can “taste it”, are very often already leading extraordinarily great lives ... without even being aware of it. And it takes this kind of standing back and observing, of really listening to the truth in your gut, to truly grasp that.

Timing is everything in terms of the kind of “greatness” we’ve grown up to accept—you know, stardom and fame and everyone knowing your name (that and a shit load of luck) … (or maybe those are the same thing)—but if you are one of those who aspire to greatness, you are probably already living greatness in every moment you cope/invent/conquer/overcome/triumph/support/cheer and love. 

Talent As Oysters

Deb: There is a theory that women are often attracted to powerful men. According to statistics, power is right up there with oysters in its power to seduce. For me, it’s not power, but talent.

One of the traps of my particular business is that often married or attached actors tend to fall in love with their leading ladies or leading men during production. More often than not though, actors tend to fall for the character in the piece, not the person playing it. But the damage, or at least the conflict, is still there. It’s tough to separate the real from the unreal. The worlds of theatre, television and film are sooooo insular during production. When actors talk about becoming a family during the run of a play or a TV series or film it has a good deal of truth to it. 

When you are in the thick of it, working twelve hour days on a set, or spending endless days in rehearsals, it does become like a family. In a wonderful way, it is a good thing and is part of the appeal of the acting world. But in another way, it can be a dangerous thing because the world you are creating while in production is a false world in many respects. It comes with no responsibility outside the direct work related to it, like learning your lines, going to fittings, etc. There are no bills to pay, no runny noses to wipe, no money arguments to be had. The other actors fall into this parallel world with you and everything becomes art. Depending on the degree of passion and sex in the show, combined with your relationship status, it can become downright risky. You do a scene with someone, it goes well, egos and adrenaline are running hot and ... well, you get the picture. In the film and TV day, your only responsibilities lie between action and cut, and the rest of the day you are free to have fun, eat catered food, and bond with the new members of your showbiz family.

When I first met my husband, although his talent was clear to me, I also saw a very shy introverted person with whom I perceived to have nothing in common. Romance was not on my radar. Then. He started acting and improvising and he proceeded to blow my mind. I remember my “uh-oh” moment very clearly. He was doing a corporate gig that I had cast him in and was playing a very outgoing, aggressive, assertive boss, qualities he did not possess in real life. He was hilarious and commanding in the role. I was smitten. The real Colin was painfully shy and quiet as a mouse and certainly not like any man I had ever been attracted to. But I fell into the trap. I became a stereotype. I fell in love with his talent. Fortunately for me, there was a wonderful man behind all that talent whom I was destined to spend my life. But at that point in time, I had no way of guessing that fact. His talent had hooked me. I was reduced to a doting, obsessed fan. Which was technically not cool, as I was his boss.

Over the years we have come to the point where our admiration for each other’s talent is just a given. I won’t say we take our mutual admiration for granted, but we just take it as fact. It’s simply our skill-set which we use to make our living, just as everyone does in their various professions. But then every once in a while...

Last week I went up to see The Colin and Brad Show at CasinoRama, which is about an hour and a half north of Toronto. I don’t see the shows too often as I am very busy with my own responsibilities. But whenever I can and when the gig is close to home, I go. I had not been in a while and was happy to see that they had come up with new games and ideas, which added to my enjoyment. Before the show, we chatted as couples do about an upcoming gig we had together, a repair in our home that required attention, and car work that needed to be done. Then he grabbed his show clothes and headed down to the sound check and I kissed him and wished him “broken legs”.

A short while later I was sitting in the audience in the middle of the show. My stomach hurt from laughing and I was enthralled. My heart was pounding and I was falling in love again with my husband’s sheer talent. I was staring up at the stage in awe. I was a fan. Because we do fall in love with talent. That’s why we become fans. But as fans we usually never get to really know who these people are, outside of their talent. They could be jerks but we don’t care. Their talent is our siren song. And sometimes the siren’s call can get an actor in big trouble. But this night, it was my husband whose talent I was besotted with. And I was secure in the knowledge that after 24 years, this talented shy character was the whole package. I had nothing to fear. So I sat there laughing and pining, wishing I had an autograph book.

Barbara: Awwww. Oh my god, Deb, this was a sexy piece!

I have to admit, I am also attracted to talent. I hadn’t really connected the two, because in my mind meeting Phil was about "love at first sight". But the truth is, in our early days, there really was an awful lot of flagrant talent wielding too. We were in theatre class together at an arts college (before university) and were cast in the first play of the season as part of a modern “Greek chorus”, intermittently singing throughout the play to the dulcet tones of Phil’s guitar strumming. Yeah, it was hot. So was watching him perform, so was building sets with him (is there anything quite as powerfully sexy as a man with a tool belt and the skills to know how to use it?), so was getting to know him over covert coffees between classes.

Now, even though Phil and I rarely cross paths in the “talent arena”, I do go weak when he describes a great day at work that really made use of his skills. My ongoing respect for his talent definitely works to fuel the mystique. I never thought about it before, but I guess I am a bit of a power slut!

Yes And ...

Deb: In the world of improv, there are rules. I know it seems kinda funny that there are rules in improv, but there are, and following them makes you a better improviser. An example of an improv rule would be “don’t block” or “don’t deny”. The concept being that to be a good improviser you must accept each idea that is given to you. If I walk into a scene and say I am your long lost sister then you must accept that and go with it and take it farther. To deny my offer serves nothing. It simply stops the scene cold.

“I am your long lost sister.”

“No, you are not.”

Scene=dead.

“I am your long lost sister.”

“YES, you are!!!! You have my same weird birthmark shaped like garlic.” 

Okay, granted, my example was not funny, but do you see how the scene takes off? Now we are going places! The possibilities are endless.

Needless to say, I have witnessed and, at times, been a part of great improv. I talked months ago in the blog  about The National Theatre of the World who are some of the greats at improv. And of course I am married to one of the masters of improv, as you know. But these people are not great because they are funny, although that is a big part of it. No, they are great because they know how to play the game the way it should be played and that is summed up by one simple phrase: Yes And.

Yes And is key to great improvising. If I make a statement in a scene, you should accept it. YES and then add to it ... AND.

Last week when Colin and I were at Chicago Second City I got to thinking about the Yes And and thought, wouldn’t it be great if we all Yes Anded in LIFE? What if we confirmed and added to every statement someone offered us in conversation?

Even if we didn’t agree with the statement, it would work. You could totally disagree and yet still forward the thought. 

“I think that Picasso was the greatest artist of the 20th century.”

“I hate Picasso. I could paint his crap with my feet.”

Yes Anding would maybe make it...

“I think Picasso was the greatest artist of the 20th century”

“Yes, he had an amazing way of looking at the world and I think it’s great that you appreciate his work, but I tend to love his earlier more realistic stuff more.”

We open the conversation while still holding our opinion. We don’t block the person. We don’t downgrade their opinion. We show respect for other ideas and thoughts and we add our opinion.

I do confess that this becomes a stumbling block around, “Don’t you just love Nazis?” However, you still might even be able to Yes And that with:

“Yes, I thought their uniforms were very slimming, but I really despised their guts.”

See? A nod to the slim tailored uniforms keeps the ball in the air. The conversation is still afloat.

Seriously though, all I am saying is that especially with venues like Facebook, I am finding that people just ram negative comments at us all the time. And in conversation I rarely hear anyone start a sentence anymore with “In my opinion, dot dot dot...” On the contrary, it often seems that we state things as fact. No wiggle room. I did not like the movie you liked, therefore said movie stank. Do not challenge me.

I find this blocking stance especially irksome regarding the arts. Art is subjective, isn’t it? Isn’t that the beauty of it?

I was never a modern art gal until the boy at the age of four enticed us into its world and now, although I certainly don’t like everything I see, I have grown to not only appreciate it, but to understand its beauty and strength.

“Mommy, I want to go into that room where there is a giant number five balancing on a bloody bird feather”.

“No, sweetie, that’s modern art. It’s scary. We don’t like it.”

Yes And brings us...

Yes, sweetie, that looks amazing. Let’s go in there and see the giant baby head balancing on a feather and it will become your lifelong passion and we will bond over it and as a result we will see modern art all over the world and sometimes it will make us laugh and sometimes it will make us puke and we will have wonderful conversations about it over dinners and we will have wonderful conversations about it over the years and we will meet at modern art galleries when you move away from home and it will be good and it will stimulate us and we will always remember the first time we went there.

Yes And. After all, isn’t that what we do every day of our lives ... improvise?

Barbara: Aw, Deb, you made me both laugh and teary with this one. How can I not laugh at “slimming Nazi uniforms”? But there is a core truth here that hits very close to home for me. Did you know that one of my most challenging times was when I worked with someone who (unwittingly) said no to almost every one of my ideas? It took me a long time to realize how frustrated, confused, and ultimately belittled it made me feel. When I finally realized what was happening, I pointed it out to him—and, to his credit, he was totally shocked. Ironically, this habit was so ingrained that, as we continued to work, his solution was mostly a tentative Yes But. Which sounds better, but is essentially the same as “no”. Worst of all was how I ended up reacting—by turning in desperation to my own crude, heels-dug-in-stubborn and strident no, No, NOs!  *embarrassed shudder* (lesson learned)

What an amazing and wondrous experience it is when someone takes your idea or thought or notion and expands upon it, allowing it to billow up, bigger and wider, until it is airborne and gloriously huge. Yes And is flying and dreaming and collaborating and connecting and relating and hearing. Yes And is the best kind of fuuuuuuuuun.