THE CAST SYSTEM

Backstage he was approached by his colleagues, who found him, rather than overjoyed by his brilliant portrayal, staring mournfully (as only Olivier could supposedly do) into his dressing room mirror. One meekly said to him, "You were magnificent tonight, Larry," to which he moodily answered, "I know." Another of his costars continued on, brave enough to ask, "Then what's the matter?" Olivier turned to them and wearily said, "I don't know how I did it."

Even if that story isn't true, I want it to be because it's not just a terrific tale about one of the great stage actors of the 20th century, but also a perfect example of the actor's alchemy in general. How do they do it? I don't know exactly -- and I'm around them all the time.

The focus of my thoughts here, however, is not about the way in which actors go about crafting their work but about the opportunities they have to do that work. If Olivier was alive today, young and vibrant and working in the theater, we might never have that story to tell for one simple reason: In these troubled times, the man would never be allowed to put on blackface and play that role. Hell, he wouldn't be allowed to perform it if he went out in a strawberry-blond wig and clown makeup.

Now this probably won't stop somebody from having the bright idea of casting Beyonce in the role, but Liev Schreiber -- as fine a Shakespearean actor as this country has at the moment -- will never have a shot at the part. For most white actors today, roles of color -- from the classics to some of the sensational writing that is currently being done for the theater -- are not even an option for them, and I'm not sure why.

For a time this idea was given the name "color-blind" casting, but the only thing it seemed to be blind to was the fact that it wasn't a two-way street; it was obviously designed to provide opportunity for minorities rather than put the best person in a role, regardless of color.