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A Dog Speaks Out on a Solo Show About a Speed-Freak Alcoholic Actor
Herbert the Chihuahua discusses Mitch Hara’s Mutant Olive
Herbert (center) in the front row of the Lounge Theatre for Mitch Hara’s performance
Herbert the Chihuahua was sitting in the front row of the Lounge Theatre on Saturday night, cradled by his female owner. She and an unidentified man to her right were there to see Mitch Hara’s Mutant Olive, a one-man show about Hara’s self-described alter-ego, Adam Astra – a “speed-freak alcoholic” actor auditioning for the role of Happy in Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman.
We’ve all seen Chihuahuas is department stores and at the Grove. We’ve seen them at Starbucks, taking up a seat while Homo Sapien patrons are forced to sip their lattes standing. We’ve seen them behind front-yard fences and in living-room windows yapping ferociously at German Shepherds who could, if they were inclined, eat them for lunch, but generally don’t. Chihuahuas do not understand how small they are. And why should they, given that people now bring them to the theater? Or perhaps, to paraphrase Norma Desmond, it’s the theater that’s gotten small.
Herbert, the Chihuahua at the Lounge Theatre, was the model audience member. Throughout Hara’s performance, Herbert was attentive, his eyes and ears and facial expressions revealed curiosity and an investment in Hara’s flamboyant sashaying and cursing and confiding. At one moment in the sometimes interactive performance, Hara approached Herbert’s owner, and Herbert didn’t like that one bit. He growled so loudly that his owner placed her hands over Herbert’s mouth, but all that did was mute Herbert’s growl, until Hara stepped back and Herbert’s growling stopped. Some people would call this “feedback.” We prefer to call it Drama Criticism.
Stage Raw requested to speak with Herbert for half an hour following the performance, in order to discuss the show. Herbert agreed to speak in exchange for three doggie biscuits.
Mitch Hara/Adam Astra (Photo by Ed Krieger.)
STAGE RAW: I take it you growled during the show because you were trying to protect your owner.
HERBERT: No, I just figured, this guy’s crazy.
SR: Wasn’t that just the role he was playing?
HERBERT: Who cares.
SR: He was playing a speed-freak alcoholic actor auditioning for the role of Happy in Death of a Salesman.
HERBERT: Right. And not one line from Death of a Salesman.
SR: He figured everyone auditioning for Death of a Salesman is going to read from the play, so he was trying something different.
HERBERT: Puck, from A Midsummer Night’s Dream? That’s different? And he barely got to that, ‘cause he kept calling his dad to yell at him for things that happened 20-years ago.
SR: “If we shadows have offended. . .”
HERBERT: He did offend. All that fury at his parents. Would he rather be separated from his mom at six weeks old, like I was? Then he’d be singing a different tune.
SR: Don’t you think some of that fury was put-on, inflated, like a parody of a seething child whose parents never understood him, couldn’t face that their little boy was gay.
HERBERT: He was gay?
SR: You didn’t get that?
HERBERT: I guess I missed that part
SR: He said he slept with married men.
HERBERT: I sleep with married men. That doesn’t make me gay.
SR: The lack of approval made him crazy. He said he had his drivers’ license taken away after his fifth DUI. He even acted out one of the car crashes with metal folding chairs that he slammed into each other.
HERBERT: That part was too noisy.
SR: I noticed you trying to escape.
HERBERT: . . . Way too noisy. I didn’t like it. And all those big gestures, obvious jokes all through the show. So big. So loud.
SR: He was playing a speed-freak. Ever seen a subtle speed-freak?
HERBERT: Low self-esteem. Please. On my hind-legs, I’m one-foot tall. I’m six pounds tops. Do I have low self-esteem? What’s wrong with you people? So much of the same. Over and over. All that acting. It was exhausting.
SR: Okay, but he was playing an actor, right? But did you understand that maybe it was a parody of a fucked-up actor, sort of like Andy Kaufman’s alter-ego . . .
HERBERT: Tony Clifton. . .
SR: Right. Tony Clifton was excruciating by design. That was the joke.
HERBERT: What joke?
SR: A bad lounge singer.
HERBERT: What’s funny about that?
SR: Maybe that he thinks he’s good?
HERBERT: Is that funny?
SR: To some people.
HERBERT: Not to me.
SR: The point is, you weren’t watching Mitch Hara the actor, you were watching his alter-ego Adam Astra.
HERBERT: I don’t see what difference that makes.
SR: It’s not just some actor-confessional one-man show.
HERBERT: Sure it is.
SR: It’s not just some actor acting-out.
HERBERT: That’s exactly what it is. Alter-ego is just ego with a different name.
SR: And with a sense of humor.
HERBERT: I was not amused.
SR: What exactly amuses you?
HERBERT: To answer that question, I’ll need another doggie biscuit.
(Herbert munches a doggie biscuit then licks his nether-regions)
Sylvia, by A.R. Gurney. Now that’s a funny play.
SR: What’s your all-time favorite show.
HERBERT: Cats. Couldn’t sleep for a week after that one.
SR: Thanks for your time.
HERBERT: You bet.
Herbert’s all-time favorite show
Mutant Olive, written and performed by Mitch Hara and directed by Terri Hanauer, is being performed at the Lounge Theatre, 6201 Santa Monica Blvd., Hlywd.; Thurs.-Sat., 8 p.m.; through Feb. 28. (323) 960-7861, https://plays411.com/mutant
