Page 131 of Playworld
“Gentlemen,” he began, in a heavy, up-Island accent. “My name’s Aiden Byrne and I’m looking forward to working with you this season. A bit about myself: I’m a second-generation Irish Catholic, grew up in East Hampton, New York, a place I know some of you are familiar with, and where my family has owned a small business for over three decades. I wrestled at East Hampton High, then at Iowa State, where I was a starter all four years and an academic all-American my senior year.” He seemed a bit abashed at the mention of this accolade. “A few words about my expectations. You’re gonna get out of this program what you put into it. This is an individual sport, but our job as team members is to make each other better. My number one value is mutual respect and my number two is hard work. As for my individual goals for each of you, I have only this one: by the season’s end, you’re able to beat the wrestler you were at its start.” He paused to nod, which we’d soon learn was what he did when he knew exactly what was coming. “There are several other changes to which I’ll call your attention. First, as you know, Assistant Coach Tyrelljust recorded your weight. You will remain within five pounds of that number, no sucking down and no rubber suits.”
Grumbling and hisses.
“I know, new coach, new rules, but this is to protect your health. Also, three new tournaments have been added to our schedule”—Tyrell had us pass this down—“that are in much tougher leagues than I’m guessing you’re accustomed to, no disrespect. Also, note the scrimmages with some of the New Jersey and Long Island public schools, which is a different shark tank altogether. Finally, I’ll be running an optional weightlifting program three days a week. I stress that this isoptional,I know you all have serious academic responsibilities or are doing other sports or both. That said, once the season begins, all practices are mandatory unless you have a written excuse. Any questions?”
We eyed one another up and down the line. No one raised his hand. Did they, like me, feel the same sense of solace? That this person was exactly what he was. That he was a help as opposed to a hindrance. That these facts, taken in the aggregate, meant we were safe. They must have, because almost everyone seemed as stoked as I. Because what occurred to me, as I considered our team, was this: we weredeepwith talent. And maybe not this year, but certainly by the next, we’d be a force.
Theater class met in the basement rehearsal space. Damiano had the lights raised, which made the room seem smaller. “Our first semester production,” he announced, “will beThe Tempest.” The senior dramaramas eyed one another knowingly; they small-clapped and cooed. The entire semester, Damiano explained, would be dedicated to the play, with a string of performances beginning in early November. “This first week, we’ll hold auditions. Parts should be assigned by Friday, and we’ll be well into rehearsals by the month’s end.” He flapped a sheaf of handouts and then distributed them.
I reviewed the rehearsal and production schedule. From my book bag, I pulled out my wrestling schedule and did a side by side.
Damiano said, “We have a bet in the teachers’ lounge who can keep you for the shortest amount of time today, and I intend to win, so off you go.” As everyone was exiting, Damiano stopped me and said, “Hey, Griffin, walk with me, would you?”
We made our way out of the theater, up and out of the swimmingpool’s zone of chlorinated humidity, into the main lobby, and down the upper school’s long hallway that ran parallel to the gymnasium. We took a left, up an exposed half flight of stairs fashioned of concrete with a metal railing. Beyond this, a door led to the wrestling lockers and the five flights Kepplemen used to make us run at the end of practice. Atop these was the school’s main theater.
“I wanted to wait till we were out of earshot of everyone.” Damiano nodded at me, hesitant, like he still wasn’t sure about what he was going to say. In other words: a dramatic pause. “I want you to play Prospero,” he said, as if that meant something to me. When he saw that it didn’t, he continued: “I want you to try out for the lead.”
“I don’t—”
“Make no mistake, you’ve still got to earn the role.”
“Mr. Damiano, the rehearsal schedule conflicts—”
“I know,” he said, and raised his hand, “it’s a big commitment, but here’s the thing.Take Twocomes out in, what, a month? I think I just read that inVariety.” Not even my dad readVariety.“And when it does, you’re going to have all sorts of opportunities come your way—life-changing ones. And what a lot of people probably won’t tell you is this: you’ve got talent galore, Griffin, but you’ve got no technique. And a year from now, when those adult roles start coming your way, you’re not going to be ready. You won’t be able to cross over. You get what I’m saying?” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “There’s a moment when an actor moves from naturalism to craft. So,” he said, and made an emphatic, shaking gesture with his closed fists, “let me teach you. Give me the chance. That way, you don’t end up out of work one day, like nine-tenths of the actors in that failed musical your father was just in. He got a good writeup, I saw.”
I thought for a moment about punching him in the mouth, but that would get me expelled.
Then an even more beautiful thought presented itself—one that made me smile so serenely, Damiano couldn’t help but smile too.
“I’m flattered,” I said.
We shook hands.
—
Later that week, I read for Alan Hornbeam at his Upper East Side town house.
He had a home theater, the first I’d ever seen, and when I met him there, the producer ofTake Two,the film’s editor, and two studio executives were also in attendance. They’d just reviewed the final cut and were discussing it. “Let me show you something,” Hornbeam said, and gave the projectionist instructions and then asked me to sit. The lights went down. The scene when Hornbeam and I are discussing love rolled. We have our baseball mitts, and then Amanda and the extra playing her mother walk by, and Amanda smiles at me so warmly, her reaction caught so perfectly in the shot, that I was reminded of the promise it contained, which, if it was acting on her part, was Academy Award–winning stuff. And in the reaction shot I could see the hope inmyexpression, which was also not acting, especially when Hornbeam and I watched the pair of women make their way toward the park.
When the lights came up, Hornbeam asked, “What do you think?”
“It’s great,” I said.
“You did beautiful work, Griffin.”
“Thank you.”
“I love in that crane shot how the trees’ shadows are playing on the sidewalk, so that it’s like Bernie and Konig are walking through entanglement and complication. It’d make Josef von Sternberg proud.”
I hadn’t noticed. I had also promised myself that if I didn’t know something, I would ask. “Who’s Josef von Sternberg?”
“Only the greatest framer of the shot in film history,” Hornbeam said. “I’ll have you back here soon, we’ll watchThe Blue Angeltogether. I have an original print.” He got up and waved me to join him. “Let’s go talk privately.”
He led me upstairs to his living room. It was as big as my family’s entire apartment, long and rectangular, with a white rug that framed the space, from the fireplace on one end to the bookcases on the other. In the center, there hung a gorgeous, very modern chandelier with arced arms, whose fluid curves made it look like a candelabra from the distant future. Nearest where we stood was another seating area, arranged around a set of built-in bookshelves, with picture lights illuminating the spines. Adjacent a recessed bar was an accent chair made of creamy brown leather—the reading nook of my mother’s dreams. Oren, I thought, would alsolove this place. In the corner, I noticed an upright piano, which I could imagine Dad playing. Hornbeam indicated we sit on the couch, in front of the fireplace, where several birch logs were piled atop its grate. He gave me some sides and explained the scene. I put eyes on it for a few minutes, and we read. It was very relaxed. He made several suggestions and we read once more. After which he thanked me again.
“We have a commitment from Kurt Russell for my next picture,” he said. “You’d be playing him as a teenager in an extended flashback. We’d be shooting it in Paris. Have you been?”
“No.”