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The truth is, I absolutely adore a good wake.
And here’s another theater tip, my dears: wakes are the perfect place for any actor worth his greasepaint to go apeshit. All that crying and hugging and thinking back on all the good times, even if the person who died was a good-for-nothing low-life scumdog.
Actors need to make that scene their OWN! Be the one to cry the loudest, be the one to tell the most touching stories. Be the one to feel the most, even if you’re not feeling a goddamn thing!
I’ll let you in on a secret. Once or twice, I’ve gone to a wake where I’ve had absolutely no idea who the person was I was waking. I’d just see their name in the newspaper and show up, pretending to be a long-lost uncle or a friend from work. It was a wonderful way for me to develop a character. I highly recommend it as an acting exercise: FAKE it and WAKE it.
Still, I couldn’t afford to fake anything at RJ’s wake. My time had to be spent seeing if I could pick up clues on who the real killer was. There was a good chance someone feeling a little guilty might let a little something something slip.
Which is why I was sitting there in my car outside the Otto Harbuch funeral home on Wednesday night, observing people shuffling in and out of the wake. I was busy gathering evidence.
( Read more tales of the Diva Rotundo and his rollicking adventures in the Otto Harbuch funeral home, in which the Diva decides to do some stiff sleuthing... )
And here’s another theater tip, my dears: wakes are the perfect place for any actor worth his greasepaint to go apeshit. All that crying and hugging and thinking back on all the good times, even if the person who died was a good-for-nothing low-life scumdog.
Actors need to make that scene their OWN! Be the one to cry the loudest, be the one to tell the most touching stories. Be the one to feel the most, even if you’re not feeling a goddamn thing!
I’ll let you in on a secret. Once or twice, I’ve gone to a wake where I’ve had absolutely no idea who the person was I was waking. I’d just see their name in the newspaper and show up, pretending to be a long-lost uncle or a friend from work. It was a wonderful way for me to develop a character. I highly recommend it as an acting exercise: FAKE it and WAKE it.
Still, I couldn’t afford to fake anything at RJ’s wake. My time had to be spent seeing if I could pick up clues on who the real killer was. There was a good chance someone feeling a little guilty might let a little something something slip.
Which is why I was sitting there in my car outside the Otto Harbuch funeral home on Wednesday night, observing people shuffling in and out of the wake. I was busy gathering evidence.
( Read more tales of the Diva Rotundo and his rollicking adventures in the Otto Harbuch funeral home, in which the Diva decides to do some stiff sleuthing... )
