Theater community should watch out for overindulgence

There was the time I went to a bar after a play and found the leading actress crawling in the parking lot trying to get into her car. I walked her back into the pub, spotted her cast mates, and, luckily, found one still sober enough to drive her home.

Then there was that second act in another theater's production where a character seemed to have disappeared. I found out from the producer that the actor admitted during intermission that he had been consuming alcohol all through the show and could no longer go on. I wrote in my review that his character had been "peculiarly edited," because, rightly or wrongly, I didn't want to publicly embarrass an amateur performer in a small role.

Recently a friend of mine, after a night of post-show drinking, ended up driving the wrong way on the freeway. He killed a man. He's young, multitalented, a good person and headed for prison. Of course, his tragedy is nothing compared to the man robbed of his life.

The theater community has a drinking problem. It's unfair, we know, to put any more blame on it than any other sector, since alcohol abuse is everywhere. But there's something about performing that encourages overindulgence.

An actor is "high" for two hours or so during a show. He's the center of attention, his every move being observed, applauded, adored. It's difficult to turn off all that adrenaline the moment the play is over. In my years in theater, it was, as I'm assured it remains, a tradition to go drinking after the curtain came down. It's an easy way to get rid of that excess energy and encourage sleep.

I'm ashamed to say there were nights I drove home drunk. There's only one reason my friend is going to jail and I'm not: I was lucky.

Maybe theater folks aren't addressing this issue amongst themselves enough.

Maybe alcohol should be as frequent a topic for discussion within performing groups as steroid use within athletics.

Of course, we're all responsible for our actions. My friend understands the gravity of what he's done.

"I have two choices now," he told me days after the accident. "I can either kill myself or try to make this into something positive."

I have no doubt he'll do the latter, even if it's just by sharing his experience with others. I hate to sound like a pamphlet, but when someone you care about messes up his life like this, you want to do something.

Even if it's just talk.

Anthony Del Valle can be reached at DelValle@aol.com. You can write him c/o Las Vegas Review-Journal, P.O. Box 70, Las Vegas, NV 89125.