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by Henry Alford Big Kiss: One Actor's Desperate Attempt to Claw His Way to the Top by Henry Alford, Villard, a Division of Random House, 227 pages, $19.95 
Having won a gold medal presented at my elementary school
graduation ceremony for my acting talents, my immediate reaction
to Henry Alford was "there but for the grace of God go I." This
New York City-situated funny man's latest book, Big Kiss, is subtitled
One Actor's Desperate Attempt to Claw His Way to the Top.
Had not fate taken me along another road, you see, I might have been, like Henry, doing bit parts, the big break eluding me. But now that I think about it, Henry and I are, in fact, somewhat alike in that our stages have become the more permanent books we've written rather than our being situated temporarily in Manhattan's better theatres. Henry's a monkish reminder to Catholics, at least, that acting is actually a rather spiritual trade. Reading him I see what I missed when I passed up a chance to attend acting school. He tells how there are monastery-style teachers out there "who would tell you to 'lie on the cold cement floor, breathe through your buttocks, and then hold it,' only to leave you hanging in the balance" for the next twelve minutes.
Henry Alford is a living rebuke to Mencken's put-down. Well, almost a living rebuke. He admits now that he's really a writer. And he's a good one—a very funny one. His acting career has morphed into a kind of side-line. He still enjoys the bit parts, of course, roles like the "Guy at the ATM machine". And thereby Henry demonstrates the spiritual side of acting. His ego isn't so big that he must strut across center stage to get his jollies. He's satisfied being an unnoticed face that adds to the glory of the play and that helps celebrate the more famous principals whose names actually do adorn the marquee. "I'm very very self-effacing," he admits, "I could never be as self-absorbed as actors have to be, the way they talk and talk about themselves, because really all I'm trying to do is make other people look good. I'm trying to create an atmosphere in which they can do their best work. I'm just a catalyst." Henry's wit, even, is self-effacing. He never seems to totally succeed. But he keeps on trucking, and this is what makes him lovable and likable. Big Kiss introduces Manhattan in 2000 to actor-neophytes. If you live in Blaine, Missouri, for example, and thrill each time you hear somebody sing New York, New York, then this is the book for you. Henry's quest for stardom takes him—and you get to go along—to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in England, to auditions for the role of Wilber the Pig in Charlotte's Web, and to his triumph as an extra in Godzilla. Accompany him also to comedy camp in Michigan and sit next to his 69-year old chain-smoking mom while he does improvisations. Or listen to him carry on at his job as a phone-sex worker where he sharpens his skills by playing varied roles.
Here's a big kiss for you, Henry. I hope every aspiring actor gets a chance to read your wonderful book. And I wish you a long and happy career as a writer. |
Alford got a break running from Godzilla in the 1998 film 
© 1997-2000 BEI