The first time I shaved my head was because I didn't have the money for a haircut in the summer of 1997. This was in Boston, Massachusetts. I was staying at a friend's apartment before a bunch of us moved in to a huge old place in the South End, and it was just easier at the time than going to a barber and paying for a trim: I had short hair for the entire Summer, a definite plus. I think I used a beard trimming clipper to trim it short, then shaved it clean with a Gillette razor. If you shave your head, I strongly suggest that you avoid the temptation to splash afterhsave or cologne on your freshly-shorn scalp afterwards: I suspect that it can burn the follicles. If you know better, please feel free to comment.
The next time I shaved my head was for the role of Autolycus in The Winter's Tale, later in 1997/98 at The Boston Conservatory. Fancy name, excellent training, so-so facilities. I hear the facilities are improving, so that's good news. At the time, I was totally willing to shave my head, so the facilities weren't really a factor in my decision; I mention them here in case any prospective students read this and think from the name that they'd be working in incredible facilities. The training is incredible, and in many ways it makes up for the facilities: correctly used, the training allows any actor or director to surpass the limitations of space. Ironically, Emerson College, also in Boston, has lovely facilities and generally shitty training. Perhaps this was not always the case, but as of 1999 they were churning out crappy actors.
Anyway, I shaved my head for the role. It was easy to do, since I'd done it the previous Summer, and now that I had more knowledge of what was required, I went and bought a pair of Oster barber clippers and what had taken me well over an hour the first time was done in about 20 minutes. Looking back, the clippers cost more than a haircut, but I was very DIY at the time. That's when my love of learning to do things I didn't previously know really blossomed. As an example, by the summer of 1999, when everyone from the South End apartment had scattered to the winds and I was subletting a two-room place near Fenway Park (we would watch one corner of the field from the roof), I had purchased a straight razor and was teaching myself to shave while smoking a cigar, rolling the cigar from one side of my mouth to the other without taking it out ... until I had finished or until my eyes were watering so hard from the smoke that I couldn't see. I used hot coffee as the hot water for my shaving soap, and yes, I had a mug and a shaving brush; I wore a wifebeater at the time, so I think I had reached some sort of personal early-20th-Century apex of the Manly Arts. To clarify: I was not shaving my head with a straight razor while smoking a cigar; that seems like dangerous idiocy to me. Nor did I beat anyone while wearing the wifebeater. I do not see beating a woman as any part of the Manly Arts. Men who hit their wives or girlfriends are weak and like to have sex with their dads. Their own dad, not their girlfriend's dad. Having sex with their girlfriend's dad strikes me as making the man less likely to hit the girlfriend; leave her for her father? Possibly. But hit her? Less likely than if a male who considers himself straight is actively enjoying sex with his own father. That's a recipe for wifebeating if ever I saw one.
"Honey, why are you home late, and why do you smell of your father's cologne and of tears?" she asks from the doorway.
He stands in the half-light from the windows, glowering. "I've told you never to ask me about my father's cologne. Or his tears ... of pleasure!"
The couple above don't know it, but more Church is not going to help.
I haven't shaved my head since my days in Boston for a couple of reasons. The first is that I haven't had a role that required it. The second is that certain members of my family love to harp on the subject of my hairline. They think it's funny to point out thinning spots. This is never funny to an actor, and I don't think it's really funny to anyone whose hair is thinning, even marginally. So take my advice: if you have family or friends whose hair is thinning and you think it might be funny to point it out and laugh about it at every gathering, shut the fuck up. It makes us not want to be around you. Seriously. And if you're getting old and you want your family close by, pointing out their hairline every time they come for dinner is going to earn you a lonely, Edward-free death. So enjoy that, or shut the fuck up. Those are your options.
Oddly, when the role of Daddy Warbucks at Solano College Theatre came up in discussion, I was not remotely concerned about the prospect of shaving my head. This is because I have a very attractively-shaped head. Lex Luthor and Oliver Warbucks are roles for which I was made. Actually, they are like flip sides of the same coin, when one thinks about it. Perhaps it was Oliver Warbucks' having been born in poverty and orphaned at a young age that properly aligned his moral compass. I'll look into this and get back to you. The truth is, I've been secretly anticipating the moment of shaving ever since I was cast in the role.
Imagine my delight when I was told in early October that I would need to shave my head earlier than we'd thought, because of the photo shoot on October 25. Frankly, I would have shaved it the next day, but I was in the process of planning a film shoot in which I was a key player. A full head of hair was needed. So it had to wait until after that shoot, which was about a week before October 25. The only question now was, how to do it? I still own the Oster clippers, so that was an option. But first, a word about the film project:
I'm producing an indie short, in which I star. We are shooting on location this Winter. We've got our project at Kickstarter.com, and I would love it if you would take a look at it. If you like the video -- and if the movie seems like one that you would actually want to watch -- then please, share it all over Facebook and with everyone you know. The film is called A Waltz, and I'd love it if you would comment on the project.
So, the day we shot the final sequence in the promo video, literally within an hour of finishing the shoot, I went to Vaughn's Barbershop, here in Livermore. I prefer Barbershops to salons. I like the atmosphere, the craft of their work, the heated shaving cream and the straight razor they use to edge the base of the neck. I also like having a conversation with the person cutting my hair. The number of times I've had a bad haircut from an ESL Asian woman who spends most of the haircut squacking to her fellow hairdressers and doesn't understand or ignores the specificity of my haircutting needs ... so frustrating. To be clear, it's the language barrier that's the problem. I'm sure there would be the same issue if the hairdresser was German ... though in my experience Germans speak better English than Americans. So, assuming that I found a German hairdresser who could not speak any English, I'm guessing it would be the same. I suspect that a German Barber, on the other hand, would perhaps command multiple languages. Such is the esteem in which I hold the mighty Barber.
I decided on the Barbershop for several reasons. Chief among them: time. I had to get it done and then drive to Vallejo, where I'm directing a youth cast of Annie. Standing over my sink with clippers, making a mess that Veronica would be angry about, possibly cutting myself in my rush to get it done ... none of this appealed to me. Vaughn's was the best choice.
After making it clear that I wanted it shaved clean, the Barber buzzed me down to almost nothing. Then he lathered me up with heated foam and got out the straight razor. He told me something then that I did not know: Barbers are not allowed to use the traditional straight razor anymore. It's considered unsafe. They have to use a "safety" version of the straight razor, same shape, same folding into the handle, but from what I could see, maybe less likely to be used in a murderous revenge-and-meat-pie plot.
The feeling of having someone else shave one's head is really quite pleasant. I would go get it done every week, were I made of money and were I not gauging the rate at which my hair will grow back for the film shoot in February. I like how I look with a goatee and moustache and shaved head, but Warbucks has to be clean-shaven. So I'm fine with that. Lots of salads.
Usually, when I'm facially clean-shaven, Veronica can't look at me. I think she thinks I'm ugly without a beard. It's a pleasant surprise that having no hair on my head except my eyebrows did not repulse her. So, should the thinning that certain family members so lovingly rhapsodize at Thanksgiving take the course they hungrily predict, I know that Veronica will still find me attractive. And I can play the gentleman heavy on cop shows.
Until then, I shall continue sacrificing goats to the Gods of lustrous hair.
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