Fully Committed – Struggling Actors “Get it”

We writers often wrestle with the issue of envisioning our characters too vividly. Height, weight, gender, skin color, attractiveness, etc. all creep into our character development, whether intentionally or not. Ideally, in such a competitive industry, we would like any gifted performer to pick up the script and be that character, bringing their own sensibilities into what that role entails and who that character really needs to be.

So it is with the main performer in Becky Mode’s one-act comedy, “Fully Committed”, at The Phoenix Theatre Company (TPTC). Indeed, it is the main, and only, character on the set. Alison Campbell makes her TPTC debut as Sam, a thoroughly frazzled reservation manager for an upscale restaurant in New York City. Sam works in isolation, fielding reservation requests from a variety of colorful individuals, all bearing the notion that, at least at this moment, they are the most important person in Sam’s life.

In typical New York fashion, the play’s fictitious five star restaurant appears to be nestled in a converted brownstone where every usable inch of space is employed. Hence, we find Sam entombed in a basement “office” surrounded by floor-to-ceiling shelving, stacked crates, and all means of telephonic communication. Yes, the intercom and tethered wall phone are still functioning. The latter of the two is painted red and is a “hotline” to the office of the restaurant’s owner and chef. A big shout-out to scenic designer Douglas Clarke and his stage crew for this outstanding job of depicting a cluttered restaurant basement, complete with staircase, in the small confines of the Judith Hardes Theatre’s minimalist stage.

Among the inhabitants of Sam’s world are “Chef”, an immature and self-centered inventor of experimental haute cuisine, and “Jean-Claude”, the maitre d’, a stereotypically obnoxious and pretentious Frenchman. Sam’s agent’s assistant’s sole job is to help the agent duck out on her least lucrative clients. Sam’s catty, nosey, self-absorbed fellow actor happens to be vying for the same roles, and makes sure Sam knows it. Sam’s dad, a good-natured and understanding Minnesotan who is recently widowed, manages to stay upbeat for his children’s sake. There are several others — almost forty, if you count the innumerable customers Sam puts “on hold” — who round out the cast of often eccentric characters interacting with Sam.

Amazingly, these characters come to life solely through Sam, whom you may recall is the only player on the stage. Those others don’t appear as disembodied voices on the phone line. Neither are they mere monologic horror stories. Instead, a frenetically agile Alison Campbell acts out each and every one of them in real time. It is as if they have jumped through the telephone line and are standing in front of us. With a dozen or more characterizations, Campbell manages to keep each caller separate in mannerisms, inflections and identity. Campbell utilizes every part of the stage to gesticulate and animate her callers in a way that makes the audience see each character vividly, as if they were really there. The result is a tour de force of physical comedy that leaves us in awe of Campbell’s energy, discipline, and talent.

Sam could be any one of us, eking out a meager living in a dead-end job, waiting for that big break to come along. All the while, we deal with our long-suffering families, our insufferable co-workers, and our well-meaning, if not entirely compassionate, friends. In fact, the role of Sam is shared by two actors, Alison Campbell and TPTC veteran Wesley Bradstreet. Campbell and Bradstreet alternate the role during the course of this engagement. This affords avid theater-goers the chance to view the show twice and compare the two Sams. It makes “Fully Committed” a truly unique experience.

Sam is a gender-fluid role that reminds us that if you wallow deep enough in the hierarchical muck (like in the basement!), you are treated with equal disdain regardless of gender identity. At that point, you have actually ceased being a person. Understandably, this gives the manic comedy the opportunity to drop into a more intimate tone, as Sam struggles to come to grips with her own theatrical aspirations as well as her familial obligations in the wake of personal tragedy. The overall effect is a crowd-pleasing performance by Campbell that leaves us talking about the show long after we have left the theatre.

And therein lies the basis for the title of this article: Struggling actors “get it”. They understand that they are commodities in a business where there are so many of them, all vying for the same opportunities, that they are no longer considered individuals. There is a reason why mass auditions are called “cattle calls”. At some point, we are only making random selections based on general characteristics. Amplify that further by our enhanced ability to do virtually anything by phone or computer. We spot several local actors in the audience this opening night. We can tell by their collective reactions at various points that both the comedy and the drama of “Fully Committed” resonates with them in special ways. We wish them well in their endeavors and hope that, as in the play, their perseverance brings a happy ending to life’s adventures.