With the final curtain but six minutes away, Sir Blanshard Richmond clutched his chest and stumbled. Those watching Sir Blanshard's last performance would not have seen the sweat glinting on that dough-white face--the lights would have washed it out. With a knee and hand to the floor he looked to the audience, eyes wide, as if in supplication, pleading, not knowing that the image, caught by an alert photographer, would win the man a Pulitzer.
From where I stood, in character on stage, my brain captured and embedded its own picture, one that I would carry a lifetime, a picture of abject regret for a life given to posturing; a picture that would contrast with all the performances the great man had ever given, and prove once and for all what I have always claimed - Sir Blanshard Richmond was a pissy actor.
8 July 2016