It’s a long and glorious tradition. I’ve never seen a musical that didn’t include it (except for Cats. And Joseph. Suessical?) It seems that belting voices and love stories just go hand in hand.  And what’s a love story without a kiss? Perfectly fine, says my wife, who already despises romantic comedies. And who isn’t crazy about being married to a guy who’s playing a part with not one but two romantic interests (that’s what you get when you play two different characters.) I don’t blame her. In fact, I’d be a little concerned if she thought it was a great idea. In reality, who actually desires to see their spouse kissing another someone that doesn’t even come close to having their last name? That’s right. No one in their right mind.  Still, I’m attempting here to explain why, though it looks convincing, a stage kiss is about the least romantic event, you know, ever.

First of all, have you ever tried to kiss on demand? On someone else’s demand, someone you probably don’t know more than a few hours? And kissing someone you probably know even less than that? In front of at least a half-dozen people, three of whom are critiquing every move you make? It’s no good. It’s why I didn’t like the kiss at the end of  “Anger Management” (although that also might be because I couldn’t get through the entire movie and only caught the end on cable a couple of weeks ago. But I’m pretty sure I still wouldn’t like it.) An entire baseball stadium watching on the big screen? And having been told that the kiss has to last a certain time frame? No thank you to that.

Anyway, that’s what a stage kiss is like. About as real as stabbing someone with a sword on that very same stage.  You wouldn’t call me a murderer  just because it looks like I bash someone’s head in with a cane (which is a good thing, because that happens a lot in this show). You can’t call me “in love” with an actress because it looks like I’m kissing her.

The entire thing is choreographed. By someone else. Nine things are going through my mind while the actual kiss is taking place:

1. Is there anything hanging from my nose?
2. Are we on pace with the music?
3. Are we hanging on too long?
4. Where are my hands?
5. Am I positioned in the right place on stage?
6. What about my nose? Is there anything hanging from my nose?
7. Wonder how my breath is doing right about now?
8. What’s my next line?
9. Is that a drip of sweat coming off my nose or something else?

At least that many and probably more. Now, I understand that those of you reading this who will come see the show will be completely taken out of the moment now that you know it’s all a facade. But I am an actor. And if I and the other actors on stage do their jobs, then you will be so caught up in the story you will not think about the above list or that it’s anyone other than Dr. Jekyll kissing anyone other than his fiancée.

But I’m not dumb. I know that it causes issues. I am completely aware that those are my lips touching her lips and there is no other way around it. I do not and never will make the excuse, “it’s not even me up there. It’s another character completely. They are not my actions.” That’s stupid. Actors choose which roles to take, and which actions to perform. The problem comes with what role they choose to perform off stage.

I admit, on-stage relationships for those who are in real-life, committed ones can be a dangerous game. Dangerous in the same way rock-climbing is dangerous. In younger years there was nothing I loved more than climbing. And in my experience, I never saw a single person get hurt, in trouble, or die because they were using the proper gear at the proper place and following the rules. Dummies die. The same goes with on-stage relationships. I’ve never seen a marriage in trouble or get in trouble because of a theatrical role when the rules are followed. Only dummies die.

There are three kinds of actors: those that love the stage, those that love the camaraderie and those that want to escape whatever it is they’re real life is about. Those that love the stage are all about the applause, the exhilaration of telling a great story through spoken word and music. They have a much broader vision of the experience because they are looking at it as a whole. These are great actors. Generous, easy chemistry, and really help the entire production be better than it would be without them. They are the Deron Williams of theater.  I have never seen this type of actor get into trouble. Ever. Their focus can’t allow it.

The “community lifers” love the like-mindedness and culture surrounding theater. They love people and if you’ve known a fellow cast member a minute you’ve known them for years. That’s really what it is. These people usually hook up with others like them,  and share this passion together or are rarely committed to someone on the “outside” for much longer than a couple of years (hey, I know, plenty of exceptions, but in general, I’m calling it how I see it.) They are great to work with, but it’s very easy to get comfortable in this world if you’re not grounded in reality. And that’s also dangerous.

But not as dangerous as, “the escapee,”  who looks very much inward on the experience and it becomes, in their mind, a part of their reality. Parts of it do. Something about their life, about their real relationships that don’t measure up to what they’re original hopes were, they see this wonderfully scripted romance and think, heck yes, this is what I’ve been searching for. This is real. Couple of problems, Miss Desmond:

1. Not your lines.
2. Not your actions.

I’ve yet to see someone tell people they sell band instruments after playing Harold Hill, but I have seen guys who will stalk the actress playing Marion simply because they adopted the chemistry on stage for reality.  These are the people who want so badly their lives to be the lives of their stage counterpart. Who long for that staged romance. So much so, they choose not to separate fact from fiction if it goes on long enough. As an actor, you don’t have any say who is cast, but if you have one of these in your cast, particularly playing opposite you, make like the Wonders and bow, unplug, and you run, run offstage!

Here’s how to tell when you’ve got someone looking to bolt the bonds of reality:

• Body language doesn’t change from on-stage to offstage
• Has no respect for personal space
• Insists that you call them, “Professor Higgins”
• Keeps singing to you songs he/she can’t sing very well
• And of course the classic,
• “We better rehearse that scene again. At my place.”

Run, run offstage!

Fortunately, this show brought out the real pros. Not only are all the leading women extremely talented (almost intimidatingly so) they are also wonderfully classy. Three out of the four are married or are in serious, committed relationships, and they all have a firm grasp on reality. It’s a fortunate thing to work with such professionals as they know the difference between fantasy and reality, where the important boundaries lie and aren’t about to cross them.

It’s just like anything else. You cross the borders, you’re in dangerous territory. It may just be the effect of recent events, but frankly, I’m much more concerned with the effect of performing Hyde every night. Twice now I haven’t slept well after working on the character. That’s how Ledger started, you know? So I’m keeping an eye on that to see if it becomes a pattern. And if it does, my lips will be the least of anyone’s problems...