"Rainy day...a drizzle...or should I say mizzle, mist and drizzle."

A funny thing happened while I was in performances for The Pillowman. One of the local directors said he was doing a one-act at the local community college. It's not uncommon for people to tell you to audition for their play while you're in one, and it's not hard to tell them no. My mantra has always been "One play at a time." This director said two words that made me think twice about breaking my rule: Woody Allen.

"Jean-Paul Sartre said that after age thirty, a man is responsible for his own face."

Yes, he offered me the main role in a three-person Woody Allen play called Riverside Drive. I read the script which was a 65-page one-act, consisting of basically a bum named Fred (Frederick R. Savage) and a screenwriter named Jim (James L. Swain) talking to each other. It was funny, the role was big, and I broke my cardinal theatre rule. I accepted the role of Fred & started rehearsing with one week left of The Pillowman.

"Then why are you cheating...I think I know what the other one looks like. She's a little on the cheap side, no?"

Turns out Jim is waiting on Riverside Drive for his mistress, so he can break off their affair. Fred accuses Jim of stealing his idea or his successful movie and wants his share.

"A percentage and credit on your movie. I realize it's too late for a credit on the prints that are already in distribution, but I should have royalties on those, and a cut, and my name on all the subsequent prints. Not fifty percent, but something fair."

Fred begins to tell his own tragic story about working for an ad agency and going crazy. He was a talented but misunderstood soul who lost his job, his girl, and heard voices over the radio to burn down the ad agency.

"I loved that girl Henrietta. And even though her attention deficit disorder made any conversation longer than forty seconds between us impossible, something in our contact buoyed my spirits. That's why I can empathize with your pathetic love life."

The conversation switches to Jim's life. His marriage to a hamster-looking woman named Lola, two twin boys, his affair, and how foolish it was to cheat on his wife. His mistress, Barbara, shows up on the scene, and Fred forces the reluctant Jim to call it quits with his mistress.

"Try and empathize, Barbara--a weak individual--a domestic crisis--a sexual impasse--suddenly, an alluring creature such as yourself--the boy is of course swept away--he has fantasies, he gets lost--then one night he sees his family and is overcome by a flood of memories--guilt pervades his every pore--that same night, a small spacecraft from the star Vega sends out magnetic rays which lodge inside his skull."

Oh, that Fred is funny. Barbara threatens to blackmail Jim and leaves the scene. Fred convinces Jim not to pay her and receives a radio message that he should kill Barbara. They begin going through plausible and less plausible ways to kill a woman.

"You know what I'm thinking? If you can get some blood that's her type--you buy a gun and bullets--you take pliers and pull the lead out of one of the bullets--you freeze her blood into a slug and force it into the cartridge chamber--you enter her apartment, shoot her once in the chest--she's killed by a bullet of frozen blood--it melts in her system--same type--the cops find her dead but there's no bullet to be found--just a hole in her body and no exit wound!"

Jim decides that killing her is not an option which frustrates Fred to no end. Barbara shows up on the scene again and demands to speak to Jim alone. After talking for forty-five minutes straight, I am thankful for the brief break. Barbara wants a half million dollars from Jim, and he refuses. Barbara stalks off, and Jim decides to call his wife and confess the affair. Fred strolls back on the scene and stops him just in time. He informs Jim that he threw Barbara into the Hudson River.

"All that elaborate planning, it was bad writing. The best plots are the simplest. I was sitting on a bench, she walked by, we were both alone. It came to me in a moment of inspiration. That's the difference between you and me. With you, it would have been labored and overanalyzed. This isn't real. That's not logical. To me, it just felt right."

This was the most lines I've ever learned for a play, and only four weeks to learn it in (five is more common). It figures. The lines were snappy. Either back and forth or Fred's long rants. I was working with college students, which are a little inexperienced. This makes it difficult when you're trying to stay in the moment, and the wrong cue line comes at you. We both made this mistake a few times. I never acted in college, save an acting for non-majors class my last semester at UNM, so this served as my debut for college theatre. I graduated over ten years ago. Wow.

"Hey, forget about the royalties on our film, and forget about collaborating. Truth is, I don't want to be a writer. I'd forgotten how tedious it is. It's lonely work, Jim. Plus, I've just had an offer to be part of the next Apollo Team. They're talking about a manned-mission to Alpha Centuri!"

Go Fred, go! Comedy is tough, but Woody Allen is too funny not to do. Especially when you're on stage for fifty minutes, pretty much non stop. For a one-weekend show, it was a ton of work. Opening night went very solid, last night was shaky but we found a way to get through some rough spots. We close it up with a matinee today, and I will then put my crazy bum character to rest. In many ways, it was my biggest challenge, but also the most laughs. I'll take the experience and blast off with it.

"Keep your eye on the stars, Jim. There's life on many of them. Not that they necessarily mean us well. The purpose of the Apollo mission is to explore some of the trouble spots in the universe and deal with any eventualities that may occur. The President knows about it. We've discussed it at length. It's not all a bed of roses out there!"

Chris Jungle acted in four different play productions this year (a personal record).