Darlings,
I have written a one-man show, the last refuge of the career-constipated. I work on it morning and night. I think it's fair and unbiased to say it is a brilliant, not just a desperate one-man show. It is brilliant and desperate.
Right now it's called "William and the Tradesmen," a title that I like, but which I fear will have to change. For reasons I won't go into, I think the main character's first name should be more Jewish.
It's about Will Bray. (Or, I don't know, Jacob Bray? Menachem Bray?) He's a New York singer-songwriter and actor who's saddled with a glut of romantic problems and a growing number of um... hopefully hilarious insecurities.
He can't make it work with any girl he meets, and there are quite a few. His music and acting careers seem to have stalled a long time ago, with his backup band, The Tradesmen, continually standing him up for gigs. He's on a mission to save himself - he's got five weeks before he's thirty-one.
His only successful relationship seems to be with three British rock stars who visit him in his flat to offer counsel. They are Paul Weller, Joe Strummer and Morrissey. And yes, I intend to play all of these characters myself.
The "Rock Council" upbraid Will's vanity, deride his self-obsession, question his maniacal Anglophilia, and even call attention to weaknesses they see in the script. "Why can't there be other actors, for God's sake?" Gradually, Will and the Council merge themselves into a sort of rock stars' support group. Set against his interactions with girls, the Council presents Will's only comfort zone, as well as the only male friends he seems to have.
Songs written for the show reflect our hero's most pressing matters: "My Bass Player's a Seventeen-Year-Old Prep School Jerk," "Oh Yeah, I Slept With My Agent," "I Wish I Wanted to Go to Your Mustache Party" And the ultimate breakup ballad: "You've Never Seen The Simpsons." The show exists in a style that drifts in and out of realism, expressionism and absurdity as it follows Will's journey from self-obsessed ego-masochist to self-obsessed … something else.
I had a one-man reading of my one-man show a few weeks ago in a rehearsal studio, and I have to say it went very well. Even though I was so nervous that once my audience arrived, I did everything I could to avoid beginning the recital. I learned that you can tune your guitar infinitely, because everyone in the audience believes that only you know when it's really in tune.
Eventually, though, I started, and found out many things I needed to know. The most important thing was that people seemed to think it was a real show, that someone might pay money to see, and that it was genuinely funny. That's no small thing.
The other stuff is stuff I have to fix. And so I have spent many daylight hours out of the daylight attempting to do so.
How I wish this was a two-person or three-person show.
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