Back in March, I was talking to my good friend Chris Morse. The 24 Hour Cram had just happened, and I was appropriately impressed with his performance as “Mad McSweeney”

“Chris,” I said. “When are we going to see you in a lead role, already? I knew you were a good actor. But your 24 Hour Cram performance was astounding.

“Thanks,” he said.  “You’re far too kind.  I keep auditioning. If I happen to stumble across a lead role, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Stumble?!?” I could not believe my ears. “BAH! Actors of your calibre do not stumble, sir. They grasp with iron hands!!!

Chris then gave my outrage an appropriate amount of salt and proceeded to tell me about the nature of theater in Philadelphia, the limited productions that go on, the various likes and dislikes of casting directors, and so on. He reassured me his hands were plenty iron, and that no doubt he would be center-stage again soon.

Clearly seeing that the problem was not Chris’s drive or his talent, the solution to how to get the man the lime-light he deserved was clear. “So, I can expect to see a solo show from you in this year’s Fringe Festival?”

Chris was not fooled by my casualness. “Probably more like next year. But for you, I’ll do my best to find an available street corner to ply my skill. I have to finish draft one of my Houdini play before I can write myself a solo piece.”

“Who says you have to write it yourself?” I was not giving up so easily. “I saw an excellent Patrick Stewart one-man show, that was just Shakespeare monologues and poems by the author of Winnie the Pooh. There’s tons of copyright-free stuff to mine.”

“I’ll have to explore then,” Chris was clearly starting to be worn down. “If you stumble across anything, let me know.”

“Iron fists, sir! Men like us do not stumble! WE GRASP!”

That might have been the end of it. But not thirty minutes later, Chris comes to me again. “Now I’m obsessively looking for one-man show scripts…damn you!!!!”

“I’m a cuckoo, dude,” I confessed. “LAYING EGGS IN YOUR SOUL!!! Or, at the very least, in your brainmeats. Seriously, though. If there is one thing I have learned. Is that if people are not giving you the roles you want. Then you create the roles you want.”

“Hear hear!” Chris was clearly ready to rock. “My plush cthulhu is staring at me, demanding I adapt one of Lovecraft’s works into a one-man show…not sure I should listen to him.”

“THE STATEMENT OF RANDALPH CARTER is essentially a monologue,” I said. “Just saying.”

And that was how it started. Many moons later, you can see Chris embody H.P. Lovecraft’s classic character, as part of Magic Circle Theater Company‘s  SOLO TALES OF TERROR at the Philly Fringe. He’s joined by Josh Hitchins doing a powerful one-man version of DRACULA, and the double bill is a deal at twice the price.

I had the good fortune to see SOLO TALES OF TERROR last night, and was struck by how effective the whole night was. Beyond the fact that Chris and Josh are amazing actors–and they are amazing, make no mistake–both tales are essentially ghost stories. The horror comes from not what is described but what isn’t, and in that theater makes an excellent venue for the works. Small things like light cues and off-stage noises become terror-inducing elements. SOLO TALES OF TERROR revels in the power of the scary story told aloud, the delectable horror of the camp-fire tale made gourmet and exquisite by classic words and expressive voices.

It was a good night of theater. More than that, it was good to see my friend take the lead, and make a statement.