Artist Profile by Scott Morales

A lot of my friends complain about their high school experiences, but I, on the other hand, was blessed with an amazing high school experience. When I wasn't maintaining a perfect 4.0 grade average in all AP classes and being the star Quarterback and Captain of the football team, I was busy being voted "Most Likely to Be Mistaken for Brad Pitt" and helping to feed the homeless at my local shelter. Okay, so none of that is really true, but I nevertheless had a great time in high school. It was there that I first became entrenched in the theatrical "dream of passion" that I attempt to make a career out of today and where I made out with a Drum Major.

Without a doubt one of the highlights of my high school years and, more specifically, the hallowed "Senior Year" was my theatre class' trip to London. Traveling to the land of Shakespeare, Harry Potter, that strange "soccer" thing, and iceless drinks, I was making my first trip across the pond with some of my best friends (whom I still keep company with, much to the chagrin of my parents and local law enforcement). The first of six shows we were set to see was a show I had never heard of (truth to tell, I don't even remember knowing the title before we had left for foggy London-town). The show was something called "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged)."

Knowing next to nothing about this opera, I had no idea what to expect. What followed over the next two hours was (CLICHÉ ALERT!!) something that forever altered my view of what theatre and story-telling could do. Covering all of Shakespeare's canon in about 90 minutes, "Complete Works" had me, like my colleagues and the rest of the theatre, laughing so hard that it literally hurt. From the Othello rap, to the Titus cooking show, to the interactive Ophelia scenes, to "Hamlet" done in thirty seconds, then 3 seconds, then backwards, I laughed harder than I ever had while watching a show. In fact, to this day, I don't know if I've ever seen anything as funny, on either stage or screen, as that original production of "Complete Works." When faced with such startling excellence at the art I so dearly love, I feel charged to what to do it myself, to want to make an audience be that moved to tears with laughter, and to show people just what Shakespeare and theatre can do in the right hands. I made a silent vow right then that one day, God willing, I would be in that show.

Flash forward about seven years. I'm in New York, I have less hair, and I still hang out with the same people from high school. I get a call from a good friend of mine saying that a company called Phare Play was putting together a production of "Complete Works." Seizing my opportunity, I audition and, in the process, commit that cardinal sin of any actor: I get my hopes up. So, we all know happens next, right? Why, the lovely Christine Vinh, famed actor and director of the New York stage, Executive Producer of Phare Play, and director of this particular production of "Complete Works," calls me up, offers me not only the role, but offers me an Equity contract that pays about $5,000 a performance, including benefits and den... actually, no, that didn't happen. I wasn't cast. And I was crushed.

In a true display of class and courtesy, however, I got an e-mail not only from Christine but also from Jasmine Spiess, Stage Manager of the production, complimenting me and thanking me for my audition. Never in my career had two people from the same production contacted me and spoke with such grace. It still hurt, but I certainly understood (that's the nature of the beast) and was honored by their kind words. I still hoped and prayed that my time in the "Complete Works" sun would come. I had no idea it would come so soon...

About a week and a half later, I got a call from Christine, who told me that one of the three actors had to drop out due to health problems and that she wanted me to step up. After jumping into the air in triumph in the middle of 47th Street, I calmed myself and said that I would love to take the role. What followed was the highlight of my still fresh New York theatrical career, and one of the most enjoyable shows I've ever done. Christine was a true professional, allowing my talented cohorts, Michael Climek and Ben Klier, enough creative room to experiment and utilize our own comedic talents, while reining us in when we went too far (No "Highlander" jokes for you, Michael. Sorry). All this, and I got to play my favorite role also? The audience plant who jumped onto the stage and told of Shakespeare's life as the Fuehrer of the Third Reich? The hapless little man who got to play all of the ladies of Shakespeare while throwing up on the audience and splashing water in his/her face? The one who gets to deliver the "What a Piece of Work is Man" speech, the only serious moment when the actors get to do "real" Shakespeare, which, when done properly, is arguably the most arresting part of the show?

In the end, our production of "Complete Works" was a success both critically and commercially, but to me it was a success in that it allowed me to fulfill a wish that I had made many years ago in another country (?!). And yet it would have been a hollow personal accomplishment without Christine and Jasmine, without Michael and Ben, all of whom I now consider dear friends. I only hope that I held my end of the bargain and made the rest of them proud with what little I could do. I tell you this, friends, there's nothing like having an audience in the palm of your hands. "Complete Works," when in the right hands, allows this tenfold. Hopefully, my hands were capable enough.