In Good Company

I know it's not just me. Surely others stumble out of ACT or Intiman or Seattle Rep time after time and think, "Are these the only actors in Seattle?"

Before their friends and immediate family send me outraged e-mails, let me grant that the actors we see over and over (and we all know who I'm talking about, don't we?) are a skilled, professional bunch. And while I'm not implying that anyone be put out to pasture, can we admit that it's become increasingly difficult to accept even the most dexterous of these performers in roles that were better suited to them a decade ago? There areother talented artists out there, right?

So, who would I want the Big Three to hire? I can't say that I've stuck to any hard and fast rules in forming my ideal company. And my list has certain limitations: There aren't nearly enough actors of color on it—which, to me, simply says Seattle doesn't give nearly enough actors of color time and experience to flex their technique. Missing, also, are people I admire but who, I hope, have finally caught on with the bigger houses (Lori Larsen and the ever-delectable Bhama Roget, for instance, have lately been gainfully employed at the Rep—hurrah!—twice). Included, however, are performers who have occasionally found work at the bigger houses whom I just don't think the bigger houses have quite figured out (call it hubris on my part). And, I'm happy to report, there are finally so many accomplished younger male actors in town that I couldn't fit them all on a short list of only six men and six women. (So Troy Fischnaller, Hans Altweis, Andrew Litzky, Sylvester Foday Kamara: word.) I've given myself the luxury, too, not to worry about pleasing subscribers—meaning that, yes, this is all just a fantasy (though, when possible, I've included where you can actually watch these actors next) and it presumes the world is overflowing with enough interesting plays to both engage these talents and their lucky, lucky audiences.

THE COMPANY

Susanna Burney

Burney projects an embattled dignity in the face of overwhelming circumstance. She can be honorable without sanctimony (note her quietly appalled police officer for the Empty Space's The Laramie Project), and her noble steadfastness makes comic roles twice as hysterical: She was even funnier than the role suggests as a straight-faced wet nurse giving suckle to hell's minions in Scot Augustson's Gone Are the Days at ConWorks. Surely there's some funny-sad Chekhovian something waiting to take advantage of such an ability. Next: Starting a new troupe, Our American Theatre Company, and touring with Book-It's educational branch.

Peter Crook

What do you do after Angels in America? It's a question that Crook shouldn't have to be asking himself, even if it did seem hard to top his stellar Seattle debut as the closeted gay Mormon in Intiman's 1994–95 epic. Why he hasn't been given more time as a leading man—though Seattle Children's Theatre and Seattle Shakespeare Company have put him to good use—mystifies me. I don't recall the guy ever giving a bad performance (well, no one could've survived 2001's Miss Golden Dreams, Joyce Carol Oates' embittered elegy for Marilyn Monroe, at ACT). And most of his work has been extraordinary: The precision of his venal rancor as the anti-intellectual of The Designated Mourner for New City Theater cut to the bone. Next: The serial killer of Frozen at the Empty Space in September.

Nick Garrison

Anyone who's been paying attention knows that Nick Garrison is the highest of high-caliber talent. He had two separate, sold-out seasons as the blistering, heart-stopping lead of Hedwig and the Angry Inch at Re-bar, so it must be lack of local imagination that has kept anyone from further exploring the transgendered transcendence he practically bled for night after night. His way with a crowd, his deft hand at female characters (director Craig Lucas had the chutzpah to cast him as nurse Fay in Loot at Intiman), and his empathy for outsiders (he was a moving Oscar Wilde in the Empty Space's Vera Wilde) make him the perfect artist to prod audiences to contemplate what it means to exist outside the confines of convention. Next: Touring Europe with Hedwig.

Cynthia Jones

Jones compellingly crumbled and crooned as Billie Holiday in Seattle's first staging of Lady Day at Emerson's Bar & Grill, then spent the following years watching her stage persona shift into that of a sunny soul with clouds just overhead (a tentative desegregationist in ACT's Waiting to Be Invited, an earnest Christian humbled by minimum wage in Intiman's Nickel and Dimed). She always delivered the goods, but it was an eye-opener—and a clue to how much more she should be doing—to catch her playing a different tune as the imperious blues legend of Ma Rainey's Black Bottom at the Rep this year. I didn't think she quite captured all of August Wilson's furious empress, but to watch her given the chance to go after the crown was a regal experience. Next:Menopause—The Musical at ACT in September.