Day 167: So You Think You Can Act. Act. Act. Back to Reality (NYC Layoff)

For those of you who write:  "How did you like the weather in LA?"  "Will you do a blog post on your favorite restaurants in Minneapolis?"  "Visit any fun museums in Denver?".....

I apologize in advance that I will never post about these things.... well, not on purpose at least.  

I bring this up because, believe it or not, my time on this tour is wrapping up soon.  And even as I re-read my most recent post, lamenting my life's "misfortunes", I can hear my mother's voice saying with accent:  "Don't be an asshole.  You're life is good and you are an ungrateful person.  Take the time to stop and smell the bean curd." (no.... a racist joke is far superior to the truth that my mother has never in fact asked me to smell a bean curd.)

And without a the AMERICAN IDIOT tour, what the fuck will the Asian-AMERICAN IDIOT blog be about? 

"All I know is, she was right.  I am an idiot
It’s even on my birth certificate in so many words."

I guess that will never change.  This blog has been about my experience with the show but the theme has always been the same.  My experience in the theater.  So perhaps the show may change in the future but my life as a theater artist will not.

This week's entry based on many tweets:  "I want to be an actor, do you have any advice?"


I preface this with: I always have advice.  I don't fancy myself a guru on anything, just opinionated and sometimes dangerously so.  I have advice that has proven itself to be good for me and at times disastrous for me.  In the end, you are in control of your own life's path....

Rewind.  "In the end, you are in control of your own life's path".  That is all the advice you need in life really.

Let me break it down just a few steps further.  Just three steps:

1. "SIT IN A ROOM AND TALK TO YOURSELF IN A MIRROR.  YES, YOU LOOK CRAZY."

But what that forces you to do is to get a really good sense of who you are, what you want, and how you view your ability to accomplish things.  What you will soon realize is that no one can truly stand in your own way but yourself.

I am fantastic at being my own worst enemy.  And often times I'll blame it on others.  Example:  She says, I'm not right for the role. He says, I don't sing like that.  They say, that experience is not my cup of tea.

Fuck what he/she/they said.  But, in fact, it is not their fault.  Everyone has opinions.  But it is MY fault if I let others identify who I am.  This sounds generic and redundant but really think about it for a minute.  Have you really ever been open to the idea that "I am the master of my own fate"?

Ask yourself.  "What is it that I want".  Then be more specific.  Then be even more specific.  And then, prepare to bust your balls.  

"I want to be an actor"-  "I want to be a musical theater actor"-  "I want to be in rock musicals"- "I want to be in American Idiot"---  that is the a progression that I used to my advantage.

But then the voice in your head goes... You don't have any acting training.  You don't have any singing training.  You don't sing like a rock star.  You don't know how to play guitar!  Oh fuck, what should you do.....

Um, not to sound like a total douche.... but this was true of me at some point and only I had the power to change all that.  It took time.  And at times it looked impossible-

Because the voice in your head takes a devilish tone like Golem:  It's too late, these fuckers have been doing it since they were 4.  You don't have the money to take lessons.  You live in Tulsa not NYC.

Drop kick Golem into the lava and find a way.  There is always a way to make something out of nothing.  That is the whole basis of theater, is it not?

Yes, some kids have rich parents.  Yes, some kids have won the gene pool lottery.  Yes, some kids just happened to fuck the right producer.  But that was never my path.  This kid just took a double shift at a TGIFridays, and never fucking looked back.

2. "BE RELENTLESS.  NEVER SAY 'NO' AND NEVER TAKE 'NO' FOR AN ANSWER."

A. You can sleep when you're dead. 
B. You're never above doing anything.
C. It may seem cult-like but the Power of Yes is what gets shit done in the world.

Ask and you shall receive.  I've heard this a thousand times.  But be prepared to receive nothing (again, nothing is something).  It doesn't hurt to ask.  Ask someone on a date.  Ask someone for advice.  Ask someone to give you a chance.  Ask ask ask ask ask......  and most always someone will NOT be able to give you exactly what you want.  Then ask ask ask ask ask ask again.

Whatever modicum of anything they give you when they finally do.  Use it.  Cherish it.  Turn it into a positive for yourself:

I once asked a writer if he had any time for me to audition for a piece that he was workshopping next week.  He was well known in the business.  He said he didn't have room for me then, but he'd keep me in mind..... I called bullshit on him.  I said, "Thank you, but if you have a 10 minutes in the near future, I'd love to sing for you live one day. But I understand you are busy.  Here is a demo I did myself as a sample of my work.  Would love to work with you in the future."  I lied, I paid $300 for that demo and have been shopping it around since.  I replaced the lead in the workshop next week as that actor came up with a conflict.

This shit happens all the time.  Put yourself out there.  And ask for help constantly.

And when you start to feel guilty..... like a whore in church..... or even like a whoring actor asking for opportunities, you will have these two saving graces, to remove that guilt, in your back pocket:

1.  I work and study hard at my craft and I can back up my work with integrity.
2.  Karma is supreme.  When someone asks for help in the future, I will be the first to volunteer with a hearty "Yes!" 

3. HUMBLE YOURSELF BY CELEBRATING YOUR VICTORIES

Is this an affliction of the generation I'm a part of, the business I'm in or the product of Chinese immigrant parenting-  the idea of "what I have now is not good enough"?

My opinion: what you have is neither good nor bad.  The path you stand on is just a path.  It is YOU who decides on if it is a good path only if it points you forward.  It is YOU who chooses to walk or run or do pirouettes in a floral sarong.

"Stop and smell the bean curd."

What is acting?  Bringing a truthful representation of life on stage.  Being able to access your emotions and experiences to inform the work you present to an audience.  Having an opinion on everything and everyone.  That is acting to me.

And so the brilliant thing about the craft of acting is that you are constantly studying:

-I went to the grocery store today.  I know what it is like to be responsible.
-I went to see a show today and I thought the writing was terrible.  I know what I would write instead.
 -My ex-boyfriend posted on his facebook that he's in a new relationship.  I know what it is to be unjustly devastated.
-I saw this man call a stranger a cunt.  I wanted to punch a wall for her.  

Just by living life you have won the day.  That is worth a celebration!  If that isn't convincing then:

-Take a dance class
-Take a voice lesson
-Just make enough money to afford a voice lesson
-Book a show at the local community theater
-Memorize your favorite Jim Carey monologue
-Script the conversation your mother and father had over coffee

Any of these things is worth the same celebration as if you booked your first Broadway show.  You may disagree, I bet you do.  I challenge you to!  But, I would like to re-examine the business of theater.  Often times people wonder what the secret is to booking a show.  What makes someone stand out.  There are thousands of talented people.  There are thousands of good looking people.  But who gets the job?

The answer:  The person who the creative staff could imagine themselves working with happily for several weeks, months, years to come.

Theater is a business of PEOPLE.

So if you are in constant celebration, you are instantly attractive to me as a real and pleasant person.  That, in turn, changes how I view you.  I put you on my list of people I want to work with.  Although, there is one side effect:  You also get to live a happy fulfilled life.

====

I can already hear the pessimists out there rolling their eyes at this sudden Buddhist-like transcription being pawned off as "Acting Advice".  Noses titled towards the sky because I'm telling you to dream big and you can succeed.

To those holier-than-thou-arrogants,
All I have to say is this:

For years I have collected playbills from dozens of Broadway shows.  I examined every headshot, studied the bios of the actors, taken every theater quiz, read them cover to cover including actors recommendations to restaurants.  I never threw a single Playbill out, ever. 

You should see my childhood bedroom!

I only ever dreamed that one day my name and my picture would grace the pages under the Playbill logo. 

Well to them I say, "SUCK IT.  I win."

Best of luck to you beautiful crazy fuck nuts out there.  Me and your future self are rooting for you!

xoxo,
Kelvin

Day 146: Friday the 13th and a Stormy Day in LA

It has taken me 56 days since my last blog post.  That in itself is scary to me. Not because my procrastination has reached new limits but,  ask Josh Kobak, because I have told him several times I have an absurd obsession with the number 56 as it continues to show up in my life.  One would call it a "favorite number".  I call it ominous.  And on a day like today, Friday the 13th.  Numbers are playing a big factor.

I swear I didn't plan on sitting down and writing today.  I diligently count the days on my calendar when I make the title for every blog post.  Day 146.   An incredibly boring number.

The truth is, I haven't found much to write about.  I know many of you check in to see what it is like to be an actor on the road.  I would like to post about all the glamorous parties and the wonderful celebrities we meet and all the fun lavish things I buy with my ginormous salary..... But then I would be selling you a great blog of fiction. 

I stretched the time to think of new and inventive blogposts for you readers and each time I would shoot blanks and delay my writing by another day....then a week....and now apparently 56 days.  When I remembered, "the only thing that is appealing about my blog is how real I try to keep it."  So, indulge me in a tale that involves a little show anecdote and my personal life, will you?

Here is the truth:  The show has become a job.  A job that I always want to do well with but it's come with all the territories of being a job.  The perks and the pitfalls.  And this job is 24/7.  As much as I thought that I would find comfort in living in a hotel and calling it home.... it's not possible.

We have developed an undeniable family here with the cast, crew and band of the show.  We work, party, eat, DRINK together.  Still it can be incredibly lonely on tour.

Most of our cast has significant others which I'm not convinced I envy or am relieved that that isn't my life.  A part of me believes that, being alone in my hotel room with the next chapter of the Hunger Game isn't the worst fate but pretty pathetic.  Another part questions, well, is it much better to be, constantly, miles and miles away from my love;  I see it on the faces of my castmates who have visiting lovers.  Upon their arrival, they are giddy with anticipation.  The elation on their faces when to come to work that whole week, and then the inevitable decline into withdrawal when it's time to part.  It seems merciless. 

Still, perhaps I prefer to be the later.  I've been told I could have a trick in any city, in every city.  But it doesn't appeal to me.  Who needs the clubs when I can find the company of the lonely right here in my hotel suite?  A party of one is still a party of one even in a crowd of hundreds.  I prefer actual silence and not that produced by thumping techno beats.

Wait....if you think this is a depressing story.... we've only just gone down the rabbit hole.  I can hear my roommate Enrico now, saying in his most lovingly concerned voice with a tinge of humorous judgement, "what are you going through?"

Because more and more I think about that Sunday, nearly three years ago;  I only remember it was a Sunday not because I obsess over our breakup, but because I had to miss the Tony Awards that year.  The only year I've missed the live broadcast since my gay self discovered the darn ceremony, my superbowl.  I things I do for love.... The things I did for HIM.

I was flying home to NYC from SLC International.  This is the first time I left my heart out on the road and I vowed it would be my last.  I will spare the readership of anymore gory details than this.  But the upcoming weeks as I searched through why I was meant to find love and then to have to leave it behind in pursuit of a job, I didn't think I'd ever understand.

I raged against a lot after that break up with HIM.  I remember the first day back in the city I started a random fight with a pushy woman on the subway of whom I would have never given two looks.  I remember getting hammered at a friend's BBQ and finding the nearest couch to lay flat faced down on instead of being remotely social with the multitudes of attractive people.  I remember one day ordering a bag of pot (medicinal?) then a lunch special from one of every cuisine that would deliver to my apartment and consuming them all before dinner.

From HIM, I had learned the power of external love, and therefore by product of relativity, learned the power of internal loathing.

A mere six months later, after a few interventions and few hundred  "what are you going through?"'s....  I set out on a mission.  I set out on a mission to prove HIM wrong.  I set out to show HIM that I was worth something much more than even the man I allowed him to love. 

I get my ass back in the gym.  I get myself to a vocal coach.  I audition for everything.  Everything I do, I do to better myself in order to say "Fuck You, HIM!"  I got the goods.  Suddenly my successes outweigh the failures.

Slowly the image of HIM blurs.  Or at least it dims in comparison to this newly vibrant ME. 

Here's the tie in my, Twidiots:  Like Jesus who turned water to wine, the Jesus of Suburbia learned to turn Love into Rage and back to Love again.

End of Anecdote.  Or is it the beginning?

Because, still I am lonely as ever on this tour.  Typing this blog post in my hotel room as I alternate between making lunch for Tommy McDowell and him washing dishes out of the bathtub.  But, I've grown to know that loneliness is not for me to dwell on but another time to reflect and crack the nut that is this lesson in life.

Time has been my adversary.  Patience has been my friend.  Solitude has been my test.  Clarity has been my goal.

In retrospect, it's ironic.  It's because of HIM, I am on the road again.  As our tour trucks drive en route farther and farther west;  closer and closer to SLC International.  I wonder, if the pushpins on the map of our tour are trying to point me back.

'Til then "I text a postcard sent to you, did it go through?"

====

Day 90: The Actor's Nightmare (A Story of Asian Will...#getit?)

Let me take you back to February 14, 2012....

Like every other Valentine's Day, I try not to spend it loathing those who are laying trails of rose petals, depleting the shelves of champagne bottles, and guaranteeing themselves one very expensive night of sex.

Instead, I planned on taking a solo bath while playing John Mayer's "Love Song for No One" on repeat while hopelessly texting various ex-boyfriends as I await my delivery of Thai food meant for two.  Unfortunately not just a Valentine's Day routine.   Happily not just a Valentine's Day routine ;-)

This February 14th was different though.  I thought to myself, "I'm on the road, I'm in Chicago, I like myself and I love my job.  I'm going to buy a new journal!".  Yelped the nearest bookstore and non-chain coffee shop and was ready to give myself a gift of an afternoon full of positive self-affirmations.

4pm rolls around, just about the time any decent night owl theater actor stumbles out for breakfast and just as I slide on my puffy coat and sunglass my even puffier eyes, my hotel phone rings.

"Hi, It's Monica.  So, Jake is sick.  You're on tonight."

I responded, "oh, okay.  Cool.", but actually thought to myself, "oh, okay.  Tonight Chicago will see it's second St. Valentine's Day Massacre.".

3 hours and 30 minutes to death at the hands of a couple thousand Chicago theater patrons of whom, I assumed, I would ruin their romantic night at the theater.  (American Idiot, romantic comedy of the year! Hah!)  Took the time to tweet:

 

You know that terrible cliche actor choice when someone is stuck between a rock and a hard place and they start pacing back and forth like its supposed to mean something?  Well, I'm confident I logged about three miles around my little hotel room.

I had my script out.  I had the OBC album blasting in the background.  My shower was running hot water to steam my voice and possible force me to sweat out yesterday's heavy rationing of Maker's Mark.  I had a guitar across my lap when I realized that every time I went to finger a chord, my hands went instantly numb.  

Here's how it works:  Everyone has an understudy.  I've known I was understudying Will from the day I was offered the job.  Since that time, I've had a few rehearsals, done some homework, memorized some lines and kept an ear open whenever possible between learning and doing my own track.  But no matter how much you prepare-  the day you get that phone call-  Life becomes an ignited canon and you are the ball.  

An hour passed and I realized I had gotten nothing accomplished but a shower to the sounds of Michael Esper's voice.  So I had an open dialogue with myself:

"Kelvin.  Go to the gym.  Relax.  Breathe.  Stretch.  What you know is what you know.  You don't have to prove anything.  Just sing the right words.  Text your parents."

6pm.  1 Hour and 30 minutes to death.  Time to get my Will look on.  Tattoo, costume fitting, and dawn the traditional blue streaks among my blonde streaks. (I didn't get pictures of ANYTHING as I was in serious prep mode.)   Still denying the reality that this was in fact going to happen, I was indeed going to have to sing "Nobody Likes You" in front of people as opposed to myself on an treadmill.

6:30.  1 Hour til I meet my maker.  The entire cast assembles on stage.  I run "Too Much Too Soon" over and over and people are throwing bag and guitars a me, and I get pushed around on the couch.  I get a message from our stage manager that the Will guitar is broken and in the shop.  I think to myself:  The Good Will is broken, The Good Will Guitar is broken.  The audience will have to deal with the broken performance tonight.

7pm.  30 minutes til the curtain rises like the blade of a guillotine.  I'm in a foreign dressing room trying not to disturb any of Jake's things.  I run through a few harmonies for "21 Guns" and "Last Night on Earth" which I conveniently sing the opposite vocal part faithfully for the last 3 months.  Microphone....check.  Guyliner....check.  Grip on reality..... not so much.

7:31pm.  The curtain is late as per usual.  I have to be on all fours on the bed as we do our "Fuck Time/ShitMotherFuckerMotherFuckerGoddamn".  Everyone is giving me a thumbs up and a look of "you got this", "I've got you",  "you're going to be great".  But I can't shake the feeling that I'm going to let everyone down.  I sit on the couch and feel the fabric beneath me.  I take a remote control in hand and close my eyes through the entire first chorus of "American Idiot" trying to meditate and calm my mind and open my heart through the madness that is our show.

Cue the oh so familiar song where the melody is the same but the words have all changed.  But only for me.

I remember Leslie and I making out and her lovingly whispering in my ear "you can wipe the sweat of your face".  I remember burning my finger with a lit cigarette as my smoking dexterity hasn't developed.  I remember standing center stage during the final monologue desperately searching for my line that was coming soon but not in my mind- opening my mouth and there it was.  I remember being in a fetal position way too long.  I remember looking into that baby's eyes and even though they were blue, they belonged to me.  I remember chugging "holy water" and accidentally regurgitating all the water onto my lap making it look like I pee'd which I desperately had to do in real life.    

I remember blinking and it was over.  

I had a final reassuring nod from Van and a butt pat from Tommy and pretty much everyone else for a job well done before curtain call.  I didn't die.  And as American Idiot 99.99999% of the time receives standing ovations, I held my breath in fear that I was the link that didn't connect that would cause the audience to glue their asses to their seats.  They stood.  They applauded wildly.  I was safe.

All said and done.  Understudying can be terrifying.  It is also artistically fulfilling.  As an actor, your eyes have to be completely open.  You suddenly gain an even deeper trust and appreciation for you supportive cast and crew.  You hear the words all new again and gain a new perspective of the show that inspires new meaning even after months of work.  

With that, I thank my cast first and foremost for being so kind and having the most wonderful of praises for Tuesday.  I am humbled every day and in awe of their talent.  And I thank my Twidiots who sent so much love before the show, and I read every tweet to fill up my tank! 

In my career.  This will go down as a highlight.  I got to do a PRINCIPLE role in a major Broadway First National tour.  That is something I thought I might not ever be able to do as an Asian actor.  That is why I thank our producers Steve, Tom, and Ira.  I thank our creatives Michael, Tom, Jared, Johanna, and Lorin for having faith in me and taking the chance.  I thank Jim, Carrie, and Jillian at casting for their honest and progressive casting choices.  From the bottom of my rage filled heart:  Thank you for giving me this opportunity.

Alas, Asian Will debuted at the Oriental Theater.....   yup.  That just happened. 

The only remnants of Asian Will.  My Will tattoo in my hotel room after a cool down whiskey and ginger. 

Day 80: A WEEKend in the Country

We have arrived in Chicago and I can't tell you how exciting it is to be able to open this show in a new city every couple of weeks.  Let it be known that I have already had my taste of deep dish pizza and well, as life long New Yorker.....I must concede that it is delicious.  (I didn't say better, just delicious)

More about Chicago later as we have two weeks that have only just begun.

Okay....what's in RALEIGH?!  I have to be honest that I didn't think that Raleigh could hold a candle to the amazing week I had in Boston.  I am a CITY BOY.  I am a NORTHERN BOY.  I am a pretentious NEW YORK BOY.  .......  I was humbled by the beauty that is the South.

Everyone in North Carolina was more than nice.  Hospitable.  Warm.

I got to spend a great day driving out to Louisburg to visit Jen Bowles' family and we pretty much decimated every biscuit in sight.  OMG....Backfat Biscuits were created by the devil.   You need to google that shit.....

Our last day we happened to have two show on Superbowl Sunday.  We were prepared by the company that we would most likely see a smaller audience for the evening performance.  They were right.  It wasn't our biggest audience but they were by far the most supportive.  Those audience members wanted to BE THERE.  And we were happy to share the American Idiot experience with them.  For those to choose to not be part of national holiday that is football mania to come see our little play..... well, that's why I do it.

I don't like horses typically.  Except this one.  He was soft.....

President of the Taco Club.  Ironic huh?

The Memorial Auditorium.  I felt like I was supposed to quote scripture when I first saw it.

Don't think I didn't notice the handpicked messages on the sauce packages!  Thanks Cara and Amanda!!!

I thought they were actual grenades.  So I threw one at Matt DeAngelis' head

Fresh New Haircut.  Says "I'm going to cut you." 

Chanelling Billie Joe for this awesome Raleigh street art.  

Day 69: Boston, Birthday, and Boys (oddly appropriate day number)

Just kidding about the boys  (or maybe not...).  I just thought alliterations are more fun in three's.  That is unless you count the beautiful boys in American Idiot of whom I adore them all individually (and apparently all of Boston's reviews)  Regardless of birthday festivities, I had to go to work and hit the grind ;-)
Can I begin to tell you what a gift it is to perform on your birthday?!  I guess as I am blogging, I already have.... 

Well, it is.  It's a special day on stage and to realize that I am a year older and traveling on tour with such an incredible show.  The best fucking show actually.  There's not another show I'd rather be a part of.  It is a blessing.  A St. Jimmy and/or J.O.S. type blessing.  The best kind of blessing then! 

This is also the first city that I feel like we finally have a schedule where we can explore.  Boston greeted us with the best weather (scary weather for January....global warming exists!!)  and we have done all the fun things.  Quincy Market and James Hook and Co.  I feel like I have single-handedly demolished the Lobster population in New England.

As I didn't post much about Detroit, I have to say, that is where I met my PERSONAL FANCLUB.  Whom I adore.  They have been nothing but sweet and the gifts have been pouring in.  They know my love of glitter.....  My heart was pounding like drum to meet them....

I never thought of myself as fan worthy.  So I'm just going to pretend like I'm their fan!

It has been a truly AMAZING week..... so Birthday pics  GO! 

Boston Opera House.  Amazing Marquee!!!

Most Thoughtful Gift from Vince Oddo, My Hero!!!

One of the many artworks I received from my favorite Twidiots in Detroit!!! I sent it home with Mama Moon Loh so I can keep it forever!!!

Beautiful Artwork by the beautiful Ran Xia.  The bottom left is me with the YELLOW Mohawk!!

Day 59: Canada, destroyed. USA, you're next! (Twitter Challenge #2)

Finally crossed the border back to the USA as I managed not to become an international criminal of any kind.   Mostly because Toronto kept us on our toes everyday. 

No matter what you do, no matter how much you love it..... Every job eventually feels like a job.  And I love my job as an actor.  But sometimes-  just sometimes before I walk on stage, I think, "I don't know how I'm going to get through this one."

You could try to phone in a show with American Idiot  (it would be feat but completely doable).  But even when I've missed my morning cup of coffee.... something always grabs a hold of my heart and soul as the curtain rises.  I don't know if you believe in God or not, as I am not sure if I do-  but what one can always believe in is the power of people.

I think that is what THEATER is....  a manifestation of the power of people.

Because no matter how tired I am, suddenly you can feel the collectively energy of hundreds of people sharing one room.  They are holding their breath for an experience and I am suddenly empowered to deliver.

This is a testament to the generous Toronto audiences.   This is a testament to the Mosaic Youth Theater group that made our Detroit opening extra special.  This is a testament to anyone who loves live theater and continues to support it.

Every performance is special.  You can't hit "back", you can't rewind your Tivo.  When it's done, it is done, now performance every identical to the last.  And if every performance is special, that means every audience is special.  Especially when it's glittered with some of the best fans one show could possibly hope for.

*** Twitter Challenge #2 !!! ***
So this week, Nicci Claspell (Extraordinary Girl,  Nicci's Blog)  and I have been scouring the websites and we would like to encourage you all to ask us any questions about the show.  If we can, we'll tweet you back  (me  @KelvinMoonLoh ,  Nicci is @nclaspell).  But today we ask you a question!!!

What is your favorite American Idiot Musical song and why? #IHeartIdiot

Be sure to tag it with #IHeartIdiot !  As we go through this week's Twitter Challenge, I'll try to get answers from the cast!!!  Thanks for tweeting!!!

All my bars of soap are covered in St. Jimmy glitter by the end of the night....

Toronto Cast Boards.  Actor's Equity Cast and Stage Managers!!!

Our Detroit Opening Night Playbill!  The gorgeous Detroit Opera House!

Made a tongue-in-cheek memorial for Jarran Muse.  Get well soon, buddy!  We love and miss you.

Meanwhile we gain one more AI Broadway Alum!  Welcome Omar!!!

DAY 51: I Take All Kinds, Even Your Racist Bullshit

In my history of doing theater and performing music, I don't mind reading reviews: Good or Bad.  It's the nature of the business and frankly, what I do onstage will not change.  My job is to serve the creatives and my personal art;  not that of any critic.  I think everyone has a right to their opinions.... EXCEPT when they write things that are unnecessarily hateful (aware or unaware).

Here is the review in question:


Green Day’s American Idiot Toronto Production Intelligent-enough idiocy, until Jan. 15.

I was in my dressing room today when it was brought to my attention:  "Hey, have you read the review where they call you a token."

From the review by Mr.  Kerry Doole, "It’s hard to fault the dancing or singing of any of the cast, though for a bunch of punks everybody was a mite too freshly scrubbed and wholesome-looking. The actual dance routines could have done with more pogoing, moshing or slam-dancing to be punk-credible, while the inclusion of Asian and black actors seemed a little token."

It is certainly hard to fault the cast for their performances (wouldn't have minded if he did).  Instead, it is much easier to fault the creatives for assembling a diverse cast of actors in 2012.

"...while the inclusion of Asian and black actors seemed a little token" 

Upon further discussion with my castmates, we have decided that the meaning of this quote is to imply one or many of the following:

-In a suburban USA and later urban NYC, there are no Asian or black people.
-The punk revolution is a whites only counter culture.
-Actors of color are only cast, not based on merit or talent, but to fulfill some unspoken professional quota of minority performers.  Broadway's own Affirmative Action plan, if you'll have it.

I would list that I have followed the punk culture pretty much my entire Asian life.  I would list that Long Island is as suburban as it gets and I call it home (where I was one of a few but still many Asian teenagers in my town.  Oh yea, I'm pretty confident that black people also live on Long Island).  I would list the ever growing list of bands emerging out of the Asian hardcore punk scene developing worldwide.  I would list that if Broadway Affirmative Action were actually real, I would be a much happier, and richer actor today.

Alas, Mr. Doole.... I need not list anything to demonstrate how blatantly ignorant your self-posturing comments have come off. 

We have been so well-received in Canada with positive reviews and wonderful audiences.  I expect along the way we'll receive similar reviews to Mr. Doole's and that will be fine with me because it's much easier to write a scathing review than to do a "squeaky-clean theatre" piece like American Idiot.

But Mr. Doole.... he is a self-proclaimed "lover of first generation punk"  and wishes that American Idiot would more embody the true spirit of punk.  Among his astute observations, he suggests that, "surely it wouldn’t have hurt the bassist to trim his long locks, in the spirit of the show."  Just like one of the undeniable patriarchs of punk, the well-groomed, hair-trimmed Ramones:

Oh wait.....

Fun Facts:

1. The Ramones hail from Forest Hills, Queens.... aka The Land of No Asians (ahem. cough, cough).
2. Without "tokens" in the American Idiot family we would have to find the all white counterparts for--  Krystina Alabado, Nicci Claspell, Justin Guarini, Rebecca Naomi Jones, Gabrielle McClinton, Jarran Muse, Corbin Reid, Wallace Smith, Okieriete Onaodowan, Josh Henry,  Christina Sajous--- among many others to represent Mr. Doole's narrow view of the punk demographic.
3.  The term "token" traditionally refers to ONE of any category being represented.  The tour currently has three "token" black actors appearing at the same time from Principal to Ensemble characters.
4.  If I were hired as any "token" perhaps "token gay".  And who has every heard of gay punk rock besides the virtually unknown Pansy Division ?!?!  (again, ahem.  cough, cough).