johnnyhongkong says…

On Saturday, Mary Milan and I accompanied Mickey Minnesota and Janie Utah to see Al Pacino on stage in “a presentation with music” of Oscar Wilde’s Salome at the Wadsworth Theatre on the Veteran’s Administration grounds in West L.A.

If you thought that just because Pacino was on stage, he wouldn’t “hoo-ah” his way through his performance as King Herod, you’d be dead wrong. If you thought that because of this (and because there’s not actually anything inherently “dramatic” in Wilde’s Salome) that this “presentation with music” was not worth seeing, you’d also be wrong.

While I’m still trying to sort out my thoughts on “Hoo-ah Herod,” it’s clear that either Pacino acted soooo damn hard that something in his brain broke circa Scent of a Woman (see Dustin Hoffman pre-Rain Man and post-Rain Man) or a corporate brand consultant branded him as Hollywood’s go to $10 million man for “hoo-ah.”

OK, Pacino didn’t actually give us any “hoo-ah’s,” but it certainly felt like a couple could have tripped out of his mouth and actually have made sense for the play and the character.

Therein lies the conflicted genius of his performance: though he’s selling Pacino brand acting, it feels bracingly spontaneous and compelling because he believes everything he’s doing and everything that’s going on around him.

Of course it helps him that he’s actually Pacino selling Pacino brand and not Joe Asshole selling “Pacino brand” because if Joe Asshole tried, and even did everything as Pacino did, he’d be admitted (or is it committed?) to the VA hospital for acting that “out-Pacinos Pacino.” The lesson in all of this for Joe Asshole is that he doesn’t actually have to sell Pacino brand acting to fully commit to the moment and to the character he’s created and that’s the secret to good acting.

Pacino aside, the show is tastfully staged and the live music score helps a lot with the non-drama what’s happening. Oscar Wilde’s writing, where words frolick in all forms of excess, is just a delight to listen to.

If you decide to go, get general admission tickets because you’ll be right up at the foot of the stage. Choose the stage right bank of seats, a couple seats in and you’ll have a clear line of sight to Big Al. And unless your tushy is a little cushy, bring a cushion because those chairs are are murder on your butt bones (I don’t know that the theatre will allow it but try to fold up your jacket or something). After the show, he’ll sign autographs so don’t forget to bring your Gigli posters.