Back in his office, we catch up on plays that have hit since last we met and then he shares an unbelievable story that took place only a few weeks previously. A drunk man had plowed into his Jeep Grand Cherokee late one night, while he was meeting with lighting designer Matt Richter inside The Elephant. “We heard the screeching tires, both looked at each other and it was like an atomic boom.” He had just gotten his car back from the garage with a new radiator. “It was like in space. Pieces are floating in the atmosphere and scattered everywhere. Sparks are flying underneath the vehicle, because the guy was driving on his rims, and he kept going down the street. Matt went after him. He had hit me so hard my truck moved back six feet.” Sean recounts how the guy stumbled out of his car and jumped into another vehicle which had apparently been following him the whole time. He left behind the keys in the ignition, his wallet and an open door. The car was impounded, and Sean is in the process of getting the man identified. What makes things even stranger is the almost identical incident recently happened to Bill Voorhees, director and star of the recent production of The Crucible at The Lillian. About the only difference is Sean’s vehicle was around the corner from where Voorhees' car was totalled while parked on Santa Monica. Cursed or kismet? With everything on his plate, “I just laugh.” He doesn’t really have much choice and maintains an amazing calmness that suits him quite well.
He proudly shows me the artwork for Desert, a clean and distinct sunset seen from the point of a view of a cave. They're in the process of moving from their rehearsal space at The Elephant Stages to The Lounge Theatre down the street. He also excitedly shares Joel Daavid’s set rendering. A window that would hover over the set in the second act reminded me of a huge cross that lorded over a recent production of The Exorcist at The Geffen Playhouse. Sean mentioned Jodie Foster after we get on the subject of child stars, sending me off on a hurricane of a tangent which involves KristenStewart, Twi-hards, and first-time directors who helm $150M film productions. Taking a while to wrap up my endless diversion, Sean pulls me back into the fold with the themes of Desert. “It’s an odd play. People are going to love it or hate it.”
He also mentions that his grandmother will be there opening night. She passed away last year and his father will be there with her ashes, which they’ll later spread across some of Sean’s favorite locations in Los Angeles. (The playwright of Under the Desert, Raymond King Shurtz, will also be there for the premiere.) “She is the reason why I started in any form of the arts.” He didn’t ever dream of being an actor. However, while Sean was earning his business major in Ontario, he spent a great deal of time with her going to plays and films in Toronto. She encouraged him to take a drama class. That prompted him to read up on the craft, which led him to Stella Adler. He decided he needed to study at the Studio and chose the L.A. location. He had given up his job and apartment, sold everything and his Honda Civic hatchback was packed. However, the morning he set out for the Los Angeles chapter of his life happened to fall on the second Tuesday of September, 2001. To start with, logistically, with the borders in complete shutdown, his new life adventure was being deferred indefinitely for better or worse. Falling on all four legs, he received a promotion from Labatt, which squarely placed him back in one of Canada’s foremost cultural centers: Toronto. He took an acting class to bide the time, but it just wasn’t enough to sate his appetite and thirst for knowledge. Stella beckoned. Jumping on a Greyhound, he arrived in Los Angeles sixty-four hours later.
With some money he saved up from his employment, he was able to lead a frugal life, slowly cobbling together his L.A. existence. From living at a hostel to a rental car, he finally landed an apartment on Orange Street in Hollywood through an Adler connection. He spent his time reading, studying, focusing completely on everything he learned at the Studio. He was always the first one in the theatre and the last one to leave. “Kind of like I am now." After finishing the program in 2004, he allowed his instincts to be his guide. A lot of acting upstarts are all about getting the necessary tools: headshots, resumes, reels, etc. However, for Sean, it was about the craft. “This is where the business degree kicked in for me.” He knew in Hollywood, you only get one shot. And he certainly wasn’t going to throw himself to the wolves if he felt he wasn’t ready. His mentor Tim McNeil recommended him as a director for a small production of Neil LaBute’s Bash. It was his first-time publicly putting out his work, so he decided to go full-force and also act the male roles. The opportunity allowed him a great deal of creative freedom, as well as putting to use the scope of the knowledge he acquired in front of modest audiences. It was a smart move and his efforts and talent were rewarded with a nomination as best director and actor by Backstage's Garland Awards. He helped McNeil direct the play Margaret, as well as a couple of film projects. In 2005, around Christmas, McNeil, had written the part of Edward for Sean (which also happens to be his middle name) in the play Los Muertos.
 |
| Still from Redland |
 |
| Raymond King Shurtz |
One of the first places he visited was the local coffee shop. He had $6.17 to his name. “In LA, you couldn’t get out of the driveway with $6.17!” Boulder has a population of 180 people. There are no streetlights, the cell phone reception is poor, and there is one tiny post office. Mostly, however, the terrain consists of cliff rock ranges, mountains, and gorges. The roads are windy and treacherous. “People die all the time. It was almost like being in the middle of the Grand Canyon, but smaller.”
Shurtz offered him a place to stay, but he wanted dedicate himself to the role, which included living the life of the character. “If I’m doing this, then I have to do it the way Tom would.” One actor who Sean holds in high esteem is Daniel Day-Lewis, an artist undoubtedly more interested (to put it mildly) in the details of the characters he plays, rather than marketing himself. He recalls a quote from a joint interview with Day-Lewis’ wife Rebecca Miller, “He wants to work towards the point where Daniel no longer exists.” Sean sees the downfalls of this ambition, but also admires the desire to want to be so authentic in his craft that he strives to disappear completely into this role, but “maybe not as intensely.” He recounts how those working with Day-Lewis found his behavior on My Left Foot obnoxious and tiresome at first (dragging his body onto set every day as Christy Brown would have to), but, eventually, won the respect of the cast and crew (and beyond, of course, as the role won him his first Oscar).
 |
| Boulder, Utah |
Shurtz gave him a tent and he set up camp miles away in the high desert, along a creek. Raymond worried at certain times, but trusted Sean’s judgment. He was also pretty informed of the terrain, and would have stopped Sean if he was in over his head. Along with a blanket, he made his home next to a high-cliff wall face and a tree with a drooping canopy. He boiled water, picked berries and plants. “It was all very Into the Wild.” Occasionally, he would go into town and eat at Raymond’s or the sole local restaurant. During one of his outings, a hailstorm pelted his tent with pellets the size of baseballs which pummeled his tent to the ground.
“I was always terrified of nature growing up.” Even though he’s from Nova Scotia, on family outings, “I would hear a twig snap and run two miles as fast as I could to get back to that car.” Ironic, considering with his first role in Redland, he played a man who lived within nature and whose friends were animals. This was another opportunity for Sean to conquer his fears. And the activity was surprisingly nonstop. “You’re surviving constantly, preparing for meals, laundry, firewood, making sure the area around your tent is clean.” The difference between night and day, was, well, sometimes like the adage goes. “At night, when the moon is out, it’s almost like it’s day, like Alaska. It lights up everything. It’s gorgeous.” But, “Most people think the desert is so dead. It looks that way during the day. At night time, it comes alive in a very serious way.” If there are clouds up in the sky covering the moon, it can get pitch black. Sleep didn’t come easy, as there would be mountain lions that would creep up to the front of his tent. A feral cat had befriended Sean for a few days, mostly lounging under the tree, prompting him sometimes to debate on whether or not to share his only can of tuna. One night, after putting his fire out and going to bed, his ears bore witness to his feline friend letting out a quick defensive meow, before he heard the crunch of its bones. Without even a warning, a mountain lion had descended sixty feet from the top of the cliff and killed the cat before taking off.
Sometimes, the lions would stealthily walk right up to his tent and he couldn’t see anything but the yellow of their eyes. He would use a broom he had handy to whack the ground from inside the tent. The sound and/or vibration scared them off, as they’re ultimately timid animals. One night, a truck drove up near his camp on a dirt road while he was by his campfire. Thoughts of Goodfellas ran through his head. As they turned around to leave, their lights hit the cliff rock and lit up a 125-pound mountain lion on its way down, only a few yards from Thomas. The startled animal high-tailed it back up the mountain in two seconds flat. “One thing I learned was always exude energy, ‘I’m a part of this. I’m not hear to take.’”
Shurtz and Sean spent six weeks in rehearsal and workshopping the play. The part of Elle was played by a friend of Raymond’s from Phoenix. The playwright directed them after having gone through several rewrites. Up the road from Shurtz was the compound of a German artist, who once had hopes of turning his property into an artist colony. He allowed the men to build their stage at the top of this mesa. It just so would have it that the space they chose was the burial grounds of another shaman. They found an area nearby to build a backdrop out of canvas and tipi poles. They built risers for the audience. They would promote the show driving from town to town--as far as 52 miles away--tacking up fliers. People brought their kids and paid up to $30/ticket. The whole town was very supportive of the endeavor. Some of the women got together and held a dinner opening night. It was all very word of mouth, of which, had gotten all the way up to Salt Lake City over four hours away north.
The play is timed by the sunset that sends off the first portion; act two is pitch black. The winds would run up to such savage speeds threatening to tear down the set, but, appropriately enough, would back off just in time for curtain each night. There were only seven lights used. The audience consisted of anywhere between 40 to 70 people. During intermission, people would walk down the mesa to their vehicles, grab blankets, and walk back up. And then there would be intense talk-backs by a bonfire afterwards. The rapt audience had all kinds of questions. It ran for two solid weekends.
Sean reminisced about one interaction with a local cowboy while they were both in the town’s one restaurant. While waiting for food, he spotted him smiling from ear to ear, before the man marched over and hugged him. “'Thank you so much. I saw your play thing last night. I totally understood everything. I’ve never been to one of these things before. That type of loneliness that your character experienced—I’ve experienced that. It just made me go back to that time and appreciate where I am now, because I have a family and kids. I would do anything for them.'” Sean was touched and thankful. “It was so beautiful to be reawakened to what we have everyday.” Naturally, mostly living off the land and $6.17 for fifty-eight days, Sean lost thirty pounds. As Summer was folding, the nights got so cold that he would wake up not being able to feel his limbs and decided to head back to Los Angeles after they closed. But, he vowed to Shurtz that he would produce the play in L.A. when he realized “how simple everything can be.”
Along with his responsibilities at The Elephant, he has produced a multitude of plays in his time since, which he has been very honored to be a part of. But, with Desert, “It’s so much more personal.” He was initially concerned with finding the necessary focus to tackle the role. This new run will be his first go at acting since the first production two years ago. “It used to be all about acting, and the last two years has been about being behind the scenes.” Giddy and amped, at first, he was quickly able to modulate his energy as he reentered the craft. He’s gradually taking the time to find that passion again which attracted him to acting in the first place. This time around, however, he has the added responsibilities of The Elephant. Yet, he has a calm now living life again in Los Angeles that seems to come to him so effortlessly, a more informed and appreciative soul.
0 comments:
Post a Comment