I am not a black man. I have never claimed to be one, but for the last two months, I have been telling two black men how to be black. Such is the way when I accepted to direct the Pulitzer Prize play "TOPDOG/UNDERDOG" by Suzan-Lori Parks.

The story involves two black brothers who seem to be connected and disconnected from each other. Different ends of the same spectrum. The older brother, Lincoln (TOPDOG), has a job as a Lincoln impersonator at a seaside arcade. People come in and assassinate him on a daily basis as he sits quietly with whiteface on. Little brother Booth (UNDERDOG) is unemployed and trying to work up his skills as a 3-card monte hustler. Lincoln used to be a top-notch 3-card monte hustler but quit after his side man got shot. He also used to have a wife. Booth has a girlfriend but no card skills.

As the play goes on, Lincoln loses his job and ultimately goes back to hustling, much like an alcoholic going back to the bottle. Booth loses his girlfriend, and he ultimately bets his $500 inheritance against Lincoln's first day on the street earnings. Who wins? Who loses? Both.

Directing a two-man play is easy and difficult. It's easy because there's only two guys you have to worry about. You can block the play and find the character development rather quickly. However, when there are only two cast members, it is difficult to keep the play interesting. Each guy must memorize over one thousand lines, and since no one else is coming in to take up the slack, they must do everything with a driving energy. Not always loud and fast, but always meaningful. They can't take a break for one sentence.

Directing a January play has its own perils. First off, you must rehearse during the holidays. Scheduling can be tough. We decided to start at the beginning of December (to avoid Thanksgiving) and practice Mondays and Tuesdays during that month (to avoid Christmas and New Year's Eve and Day). We doubled our efforts in January, rehearsing Monday thru Thursday nights for three weeks. This gave us 22 rehearsals. Every play needs at least twenty. The wild card in January is always the weather. I was prepared for snow nights or deadly cold, but we lucked out. This January in Albuquerque has been mild and downright pleasant. Whew.

Normally, you want the best actors around to do a two-man show, and normally, it isn't difficult. Except that this play needs specifically two black men. This may not be hard to find in other parts of the country, but in Albuquerque, black actors are not readily available. Who are willing to commit to two months of rehearsing. Over the holidays. For free. I ended up with one actor who was pretty green (only four college plays of experience) and one who was fairly yellow (good with character, bad with lines). I did more teaching about acting in general for this play than my previous five full-length plays combined.

Also, my black guys weren't the blackest brothers in the world. They were mutant black. Obama black. Strangely, that worked out all right. Even more strangely, one of them wasn't that good at acting black. There's a funny segment of a movie called Hollywood Shuffle called Black Acting School, where black men are taught by white teachers how to talk like street thugs and walk like pimps. I actually had to do this a few times. I couldn't believe it. I was more black than a black guy. Thanks to all those blaxploitation and Eddie Murphy movies I've watched, I didn't do half bad a job.

Then came Monday of Tech Week. The boys had three days off to work up their lines which they still hadn't mastered, and they came in and gave a passionless boring run through. My notes were scathing that night, and I pulled no punches about their performance. I left with little hope for a passable show. I had lost my touch. I was too easy on them. We should have rehearsed the weekend instead of taking a break. I was a lousy director. I can't communicate any more. I should never have agreed to do this play without quality actors. What am I doing directing a black play in the first play? In short, I had serious doubts.

By Tuesday night, the boys had gotten the hint. They worked their lines, their energy and their intent. The next rehearsal was 100 percent better. Hope. Every night after, there was hope. Friday night, we opened to a crowd of about 25. The boys put up their best effort, and the show was engaging. It was still just community theatre, but at least, it was good community theatre.

As a director, I have never worked harder to develop talent. Usually, I molded what people already had, not create what they have never done. I can honestly say that my actors are doing the best work of their lives. "TOPDOG/UNDERDOG" is not my best product as director, but it is definitely my best effort.

On opening night, I sat like a proud papa. The acting, the set, the lights, the props, the sound. Everything working as it should to tell an entertaining tale. We partied after the show, and I felt good. I felt really good. I felt so good that when I went home that night, I asked my girlfriend to marry me. She said "Yes," but that's a whole other column.

Chris Jungle is still a white man.