9:30 p.m. Saturday--"Bouncers" opens to the press. We feel good about the way it went--we eye the departing critics anxiously, looking for a hint of a smile, a glint in their eye, anything to gauge their mood--there goes Sylvie Drake--did she like it? love it? hate it?
10:30 p.m., Monday night--Drive down to Cahuenga to pick up Tuesday's Times (oh, holy rag, on which ticket sales depend)--open to Calendar. Is it on the cover? Yes! Is there a great photo? Yes! And then, oh no. . . !
The headline spells disaster--" 'Bouncers' Rebounds From Lack of Substance at the Tiffany"--I frantically read the review--wait a minute--she liked it: ". . . not since Steven Berkoff's "Greek" radicalized some of our perceptions in 1982 has anything quite so different or so catalytic hit the Los Angeles theater scene." But the headline. . . .
Who writes those headlines anyway? Doesn't the headline writer know how much effort, creativity, time, money, emotion and guts go into this thing we call a play? Doesn't the press know that theater is dying in this town--that we need their support to keep it alive--especially when they like the effort! What good is a great review if nobody reads it, because the headline holds no promise of time or money well spent?