|
Chino's Story
by Brian Doyle
Yeh,
I shot the guy, everyone
knows that, what
with the play and the
movie and all, and the
thing is still in
rotation at every
earnest flyblown
threadbare theater
company in America, so
no matter where I go,
there I am, Mister Plot
Device, shooting Tony so
he can die in Maria’s
arms so everyone can
weep and wallow in the
Romeo and Juliet analogy
as the music swells, but
the fact is that while
yes I did shoot
Tony, who eminently deserved
to be shot for reasons I
will explain later, no,
he didn’t die, I
just winged him actually
in the clavicle, it was
like a shaving
cut, and it was old
Larry Kert, the original
Tony in the Broadway
production, who got the
idea during rehearsal
that he should die
from being shot, and
Jerome Robbins and
Leonard Bernstein went
all weepy about the
idea, so that’s how in
the movie old Richard
Beymer dies in Natalie
Wood’s arms, which is a
total joke because old
Richard Beymer would
rather have been in
George Chakiris’ arms,
you know what I’m
saying?
But no, now everyone on
earth has seen the
movie, and everyone
thinks old Chino killed
Tony, poor Tony, cut
down in the flower of
his youth etc. but I am
here to tell you that
old Richard Beymer had a
long and flowery rest of
his career, you know
what I’m saying, and the
real Tony got busted for
impersonating a
pharmacist and robbing a
deli, among other
adventures, but old
Chino never got a
job in the theater, no,
because who wanted crazy
Chino in any of
the parts that Chino
actually was eminently
qualified and itching
to play, such as
Estragon or Polonius or
whatever, but no, every
callback I got was for a
nutcase, and me
personally I feel there
are enough nutcases in
the world without me
prowling the boards with
a plastic pistol ranting
and shooting daisies
like old Richard Beymer
who then get to cop a
feel off the heroine as
he dies in her arms etc.
I mean, how come old
Chino never got to
explore any Natalie Wood
topography, you know
what I’m saying? But no,
it’s old Richard Beymer
who gets to do graduate
landscape study, which
you have to laugh at the
irony.
I remember Bernstein,
who was about the size
of a poodle, moaning
with pleasure about
Narrative Arc and
Analogy and all when old
Larry Kert shouted
hey, Lenny, I should
die! in rehearsal,
but I knew immediately
it was the end for me, I
saw my future prance out
of the theater like old
Richard Beymer, not to
mention my chance to get
in a little technical
advising action with
Natalie Wood because
everyone knew she was
going to be Maria in the
movie and I was going to
gravely and in the most
professional manner
share the inside dope on
street lingo and gang
ritual and all with her
which would have
impressed her with my
gravitas and all, and
who knows where that
would have went, because
as far as I can tell
real gentlemen were few
and far between around
Natalie Wood, not to
mention at the time I
was about the only guy
in the room who didn’t
want to personally
advise George Chakiris,
you know what I’m
saying?
Anyway I did summer
stock for a while but
there’s only so many
times you can do
Finian’s Rainbow and
The Fantasticks
and such without getting
into major
recreational drug use,
and the end came for me
one night during a
Carousel touring the
Canadian maritime
provinces, I just
couldn’t bear it
anymore, the cheerful
relentless singing, you
know, the songs bursting
out of the narrative
like boils, the only
lower hell from there is
Oklahoma!, you
never want to be in a
production that ends
with an exclamation
point! so I give up
being Billy Bigelow! and
go into business with
some guys I met who do
props! Mostly we do sets
and all, specializing in
fake fire escapes for
gritty urban scenes, and
fake ponds in which
Ophelia drowns herself,
and sets for Sartre and
Beckett plays, which
they’re easy, just
pretty much chairs and
sand, you know, but we
take a real professional
pride in being able to
find or make whatever is
called for, so the other
day when we get an order
for a whole West Side
Story, alpha to
omega, total p-and-e,
props and equipment, the
whole gig from Officer
Krupke’s nightstick to
Maria’s shawl, you know,
and I get to the end of
the order sheet and find
the very last item is
“Gun For Chino to Kill
Tony,” all I can do is
laugh, because we beat
on, boats against the
current, borne back
ceaselessly into the
past, as somebody says
at the end of some stage
adaptation of something
or other, you know what
I’m saying?
|
