Before my first TV job, I heard from people, other actors, beginning and seasoned alike, various things. This was from around the theatre department at the U. of H., but not the teachers, and from around the other theatres in town, some of whom had been on Five-O or other TV or film shoots. Most of the advice boiled down to this: softer and smaller. Got it. But in my first Five-O, I played a bailiff swearing in a witness, and after seeing it I thought it seemed kind of casual and a bit internal for those lines, “Do you solemnly swear…,” which are for the judge and the rest of the court to hear. I thought maybe it was too soft and small.
Three episodes later, in “Target-A Cop,” while working a night job in an outdoor theatre, for weeks, I must have said a line I had a bit too robustly to Five-O top cop Steve McGarrett, played by Jack Lord, who, after a pause, looked down at me and said, “Just talk to me, kid.” Hmm. Not, “Softer and smaller, kid.” So, here’s what happened in this episode, “Tsunami.”
The story involved a group of University students who were to steal an ambulance that was to be used in a jewel heist, which turned out to be fake, unbeknownst to some of the group. In the teaser to the episode, the short setup before the title credits, a man is run down as the ambulance is stolen, My character, Kenji Tatsuno, is horrified, and at the hideout he angrily goes after the leader of the group, saying no one was supposed to get hurt, and threatening to go to Five-O. He does go, and one of the gang, a woman, goes after him, catches up to him at Five-O headquarters, and shoots him on the steps of Iolani Palace, Five-O’s home base.
In thinking about the scene, I thought that, being that angry, I, or my character, wouldn’t keep it in, nor would we try to contain it, so I just let it rip, yelling, attacking, big and loud. Take after take. After that scene we broke for lunch before traveling to Iolani Palace, downtown, for the shooting on the steps. So, I’m sitting at a table having lunch by myself when the director, Harvey S. Laidman, starts crossing in front of me. He stops, turns and looks at me, and I look at him, and he says, after a beat, “You’re pretty good,” and then turns and goes off. Me, a local boy actor. I took it to mean I surprised him. He hadn’t expected what I brought to the scene, hadn’t expected what I gave him, something big and loud, something real and truthful. Not softer and smaller.
