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Maria Alexander

(s)Word Slinger

Category: Roger Rees

Goodbye, Roger Rees: I’d Know Your Face in Ten Thousand

I heard the news that Roger Rees had passed away while I was in New York on Saturday. It was like a mule kick to the gut.

The Life and Times of Nicholas Nickleby

Back in 1982, my parents patiently indulged me, their wide-eyed child, as I watched The Life and Times of Nicholas Nickleby, which had been broken up over four nights in a row. This was astonishing for many reasons, mostly because my dad’s soul mate was Archie Bunker, and he prefered movies like Friday the 13th and Bo Derek’s 10. (He once took me and my sister to see Bo Derek’s Tarzan, the Ape Man, which was straight up child abuse.) So, it was a huge deal that they sat with me through all eight-and-a-half hours of PBS as it aired Trevor Nunn’s production.

Roger Rees’s Tony and Olivier Awards-winning performance as Nicholas made me a lifelong fan. I don’t know if he ever landed another role that used his unique talents quite so well, but I continued to follow his work, ever hopeful. In 1999, I decided to create a fan website for him. It was crude by today’s standards, but it adequately reflected my devotion. I even started a Yahoo group so I could meet other fans. That’s where I met Jolande Hibels, who had this incredible collection of playbills for every stage production in which Roger had ever appeared. I linked to her astonishing Roger Rees gallery on my feeble website.

(I still recall the bitter outcry of the women on the Yahoo group many years ago when I informed them that Roger was gay. I suppose I should have broken the news more gently.)

Mrs. Winchester

As I wrote Mrs. Winchester in 1998, Roger was my muse. Mrs. Winchester is about a rich woman’s obsession with the dead and a poor man’s ill-fated love for her. I pictured him as Carl, the bewildered foreman who comes to work for Sarah Winchester as she builds her “bizarre yet beautiful” mansion, yet winds up falling in love with her.

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The script was a quarterfinalist in the Austin Film Festival competition the next year (I think), but nothing came of it. It has since been optioned twice and placed in other competitions, most recently as a Finalist in the 2012 Shriekfest Screenwriting Competition. Everyone who reads it raves about it. I think Roger’s spark brings the story to life.

(Haven’t read it? Don’t worry. I’ll probably adapt it to novel as I did Mr. Wicker. Then maybe someone will realize what a brilliant fucking role Mrs. Winchester is for a late-50s actress. We desperately need that.)

When I First Met Roger

It was after an L.A. Theatre Works production of Lady Windemere’s Fan in 1999 that I made my way into the lobby to meet him. At first, I wasn’t going to do it because the theatre people very coincidentally had sat me right under Roger’s microphone in the front row, which made me feel profoundly uncomfortable. But afterward, as I chatted with a friend in the parking lot, I decided I’d be damned if I was going to let this opportunity slip away due to embarrassment. That just wasn’t my style.

On my way back to where I’d hoped to encounter Roger, I had a delightful, flirty encounter with Eric Stoltz in the elevator, which helped me relax a bit. I sat on a bench, waiting until he appeared. As he approached, I stood and introduced myself, explaining that I’d built him a fan website.

Eyes cast downward shyly, he asked, “Why on earth would anyone do such a thing?”

I replied, “Well, you’ve given many people like myself so much joy. I just wanted to do a little something to give back to you.”

He melted before my eyes, making all kinds of utterly charming and sweet declarations that I no longer recall. All I remember is that he signed my program and I left, walking on clouds. I didn’t even sleep that night, I was so pleased.

1776

RogerandMeTwo years later, he appeared in a production of 1776 that opened on September 4, 2001, here in Los Angeles with my friend Mark Ryan.

It was so much fun seeing Mark and Roger on the same stage. I’d asked Mark to vouch for me, to tell him I’m not one of those fans.

After the show, I waited in the courtyard and, to my terror, Roger emerged before Mark did. He recognized me immediately and was incredibly darling. He kissed me on the cheek, hugged me, and kept telling me how wonderful it was to see me, asking how I was doing, etc.  I managed to wrangle a friend of his (Rick?) into taking a couple pictures of us with my camera. The poor guy, bless his sweet heart, had a lot of trouble with my camera. As he messed with the settings, the whole time Roger kept turning to me, still just as lively and happy, asking questions as to get to know me better.

For a long time, I was unhappy that it was more of a Roger photo than a Roger-and-fan photo, but you can see by my expression that I was delighted beyond words to be standing next to him.

(I should note that national disaster had struck the day before I was originally supposed to see this performance. They moved the show out to the following weekend. That night in the courtyard before Mark and Roger emerged, I met a young man who was friends with Mark’s agent. He’d lost two friends in the Towers, including one who had proudly just hired a staff of 45 people… He broke down. I hugged him, a total stranger, whispering to him my sympathies as he wept. What a terrible time that was. But what a perfect time to see 1776. Roger announced to the audience that they were selling signed posters of the show and that proceeds were going to the NYC Fireman’s Relief Fund. I bought one, naturally.)

Bad Fan! No Biscuit!

Years passed. Work and writing displaced the time I’d previously spent doing fannish things. I neglected the website, but I never entirely lost track of Roger’s career. I didn’t see everything he was in, but I tried. I was bitterly disappointed by Going Under, even though it had seemed as though someone had made a movie just for me, as BDSM and Roger Rees were two of my favorite topics. I was not remotely disappointed by his appearances in CheersThe West Wing, Robin Hood: Men in TightsThe Prestige and Frida. But to be honest, there is so much that I’ve missed, it’s ridiculous. I’d probably love his work in shows like Oz, Warehouse 13 and Boston Common. And so much more. He was a prolific performer, not just on stage, TV and film, but even in audio books.

His directing talents were formidable, as well. Bret and I saw Peter and the Starcatcher, which was written by Roger’s partner, Rick Elice, and directed by Roger on Broadway. The show had won a number of Tony awards. Unfortunately, the production we saw on tour in Los Angeles wasn’t quite our cuppa. (I vaguely recall it had something to do with the lead actress.) Still, it was entertaining (“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!”) and I’m glad we saw it.

Death

I didn’t know that Roger was ill. He hadn’t been ill for long, apparently. In fact, he’d just been the lead in a Broadway production called The Visit when his sickness forced him to leave.

On Saturday when the news came out, I’d just been part of the Thrillerfest Debut Author breakfast at the Grand Hyatt in Manhattan, where I’d gotten the chance to introduce myself and talk about my award-winning debut book, Mr. Wicker.

There I was in the midst of some of the most famous novelists of our time: Lee Child, Heather Graham, Sandra Brown, Charlaine Harris, and many, many more. The conference so far had been tremendous.

But later that day after breakfast, as I was sitting in the lobby between panels, I was scrolling through Facebook when I came across a photo that Mark had posted of himself and Roger in 1776 with the news of Roger’s death.

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Even though Roger was 71, it felt much too soon for him to leave. My heart broke even more deeply as I thought about Rick and his grief. They’d been together for over 30 years and married for four.

I’m glad I didn’t hear of it before breakfast. As the reality of Roger’s passing soaked into me, I could think of little else. Words cannot express the sadness I felt as the day wore on, knowing that such a special presence would no longer shine on the stage.

“I’d know that face in ten thousand,” Nicholas says. And it’s true. It’s a face — a voice, a person of eminent grace, humility, kindness and talent — that I will never forget.

BDSM Bull

For lots of obvious reasons, people love to ruin and misrepresent BDSM. It’s titillating. It’s weird. It’s there for the storyteller’s taking to destroy, distort and exploit for whatever effect they seek. Here are two great examples.

The Frenchman and I last night watched the really terrible Roger Rees movie, Going Under. I was surprised to see Roger Rees’ hard cock at least three times. Not peeking out, either, but bobbing in the breezes. Woo! Sadly, even this generous revelation was not enough to save this truly appalling film. The BDSM scenes were tepid at best and certainly not remotely realistic. The woman who played the pro domme was annoying to watch with her atrocious acting and unbrushed hair. It would have been okay if it was actually a movie about a therapist curious about BDSM who makes an appointment with a dominatrix and winds up discovering his true sexuality. But no. It had to be this confused mess about a kinky therapist with a wife who apparently lets him see pro dommes, even when it’s clear that he’s fallen in love with the one he’s been seeing for the last two years. It starts at the point where he and the domme have already crossed lines. Roger’s character is this sniveling, sneaky bastard who takes advantage of his open-minded wife by trying to seduce his domme as soon as his wife goes away for the summer to write. The BDSM players are all emotionally screwed up jackasses, wrecking every relationship they have with their runty intimacy skills.

And then someone recently pointed this one out to me: “Writing the Whip.” It’s a “diary” by a supposed professional dominatrix on the site where the 6 Word Memoir thing was born. My pal asked me specifically to read the entry about kidnapping. Are you fucking kidding me? This woman claims to have drank “several flutes of champagne” before commencing a kidnapping scene — get this — in a foreign country with a guy who doesn’t speak English. Sorry to piss on your stilettos, Mistress 21-year-old Asian Pro Domme Ivy League School Graduate*, but you’re romping in the floaty dandelions of a Ridley Scott fantasy flick.

Of course now we’re getting onto the topic of how we live in a world of “reality” victims who gorge themselves on whatever excrement someone puts out there as long as they say it’s “real.” This is just beyond silly and dumb. Can’t we just acknowledge the fantasy and say, “Yes, but I like it anyway”? Whatever happened to loving soap operas and calling them “my stories,” taking the characters to heart because they’re people you can care about? It’s just baffling.

Now back at it.

* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Roger Rees, BDSM, Oh la la la la!

He must have woken up one morning and said, “I need to make a movie for Maria, who runs my lame yet loving fan website. A movie where I’m a submissive masochist having a torrid affair with a pro domme. She’d like that.”

Oh, yes, I would. Thank you, Roger!

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