Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Richard’s latest production is the American classic, “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”.

I’m sure you can imagine Max’s excitement. He already thought of himself as a star, and assumed that this was his chance to achieve theatrical greatness; his chance to rub shoulders with the Barrymore’s and the Hammerstein’s. Now, there were just a couple of glitches. Number one, Max wasn’t too enthused about the “Hot” bit. He was more inclined to go with “Warm”. And he’s a moderately graceless cat, so instead of “Roof”, which implies great heights and potentially great falls, perhaps he could substitute “Love Seat”.

Gently, Richard tried to explain to Max that there were valid reasons Tennessee Williams named the play as he did. “Cat on a Warm Love Seat” didn’t convey the same raw emotions and sexual desires. (Just a foot note here: for those of you who, like I, thought it would be funny as tarnation to call Mr. Williams, “Tennessee Ernie Ford”, beware. Richard’s sense of humor does not include such desecrations.)

When Max learned that he didn’t get the part it caused some friction in the household. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. Or a set of cat claws: that would have worked, too.

If you happen to talk with Max in the next couple of months, you might want to steer the conversation away from plays or stages or roofs or cats or costumes or lines or… Well, you get the picture. It’s best just to discuss politics or religion instead of controversial issues.