For many people standing completely alone on a stage in front of hundreds or even thousands of people might be the stuff of nightmares, but for a certain mettle of actor it can be the culmination of a career. The one-actor play doesn’t come along too often for actors but when one does, it gives them the ability to see what they can achieve, while creating an intimacy with the audience not often found in a multi-actor play.

Every year, many Houston theaters produce the odd one-actor show, but for its 2011-2012 season Stages has three in its lineup, The Blonde, the Brunette and the Vengeful Redhead, which was performed back in October, and the currently running Late Nite Catechism (which runs through March 4) and Mistakes Were Made (which completes its run on Sunday).

Each represents what seems to be the main categories of the contemporary one-actor play and the different types of challenges facing the actor alone on the stage. Recently, I got all three stars of these one-actor plays together for a discussion about what it takes to stand alone in the spotlight.

In Vengeful Redhead, Susan O. Koozin played not one but seven different characters. While none of the characters interact with the audience, Koozin and her director made the choice to think of the audience as non-speaking interviewers or even interrogators of her characters.

In contrast, Late Nite Catechism calls for Denise Fennell as Sister to constantly interact with the audience, as students in her class. While there is a story and script she works within, she must also weave the individual audiences’ reactions and responses into each performance.

Mistakes Were Made is not technically a one-actor show, though it has many of the hallmarks of one. David Matranga plays Broadway producer Felix Artifex, who alone in his office, and armed with only his phone, attempts to produce a theatrical extravaganza about the French Revolution. The only other actor in the piece, Robin Van Zandt, plays his secretary. With the exception of a few minutes onstage at the end of the play, she remains as a shadow behind the outer office door.

The audience never sees or hears the multitude of characters Felix speaks with on the phone so Matranga is responsible for bringing them into being using only his words to them.

In our discussion, all three actors immediately zeroed in on the complex relationship between audience and actor in one-actor plays. Koozin believes, “They really do become the other character. They are the last critical element in putting the whole thing together. They influence the show greatly, their energy, their response, just the feel in the room because it’s just you and them.

"So you’re very aware of their presence and their energy in the room.”

Matranga further explained, “There’s always an awareness of the audience . . . but this, it is you and the audience and there’s really a kind of solitary feeling. Even though I’m talking to all these other people [on the phone], the truth is I’m out there by myself. The awareness of the audience becomes even more crucial. They do, in a way, become your scene partner.”

Fennell agreed, especially for Catechism, which requires audience participation and her reaction to their many levels of enthusiasm. (In a recent performance, one gentleman arrived dressed as Satan.) She says, “It’s so crucial. I mean there’s nothing worse as an actor when you hit a moment that you’ve hit a thousand times and you know you can get a reaction from them, and you come in and you fuzz it out, and they’re not there with you.

"And there’s nobody else to look to in a one-person show. It’s all on you.”

One Is the Loneliest Number

This leads to the many challenges of being the sole actor in a play, including a lonely stage and backstage, as well as the simple terror of the situation.

Koozin now is able to laugh as she recalls her preparations for Vengeful Red Head, but at the time she was truly fearful. She describes, “There are days you just think: It’s not going to happen. I’m never going to learn it so it’s not going to happen. You can take my pictures. You can send out the publicity, but it ain’t happening.”

She recalls on opening night: “I was standing backstage right before the lights went down and I thought: This is crazy. Why did I ever say I would do this . . . why do we ever put ourselves through this? And so to get through that and have it be well received, I cried during the curtain call. I just lost it emotionally.”

Matranga had a similar experience. “Ten days into rehearsal, they were [saying] ‘You have an interview with so and so,’ and I’m like: For what? I can’t do this.”

Fennell has been touring as Sister for many seasons, but in the beginning, her experience was hardly different from Koozin and Matranga’s. When she was first considered to play Sister the playwright had to call her up personally to try to convince her to take the part. Now she says, “You can never comprehend as an individual that you can gather this much information and learn it. This show has six versions.

"I don’t ever want to think about how I do it because I’m afraid if I figure out how I do it, then I won’t know how to ever do it again. So I just take a leap of faith.”

Matranga expanded on that idea, saying “It’s funny you say ‘leap of faith’ because I think as actors there’s a tendency, if there’s fear, to want to manage it or control it . . . when you’re in a scene with another person there can be some managing going on and it will still be OK, but what I realize with this [show] is if I try to make it safe or figure out how to get it working before I step on stage, I’m done, I’m toast.

"It’s such a lesson in trusting. I’m just going to say the first line and let’s go.”

I asked if it’s a case of needing to stay in the moment and all three actors agreed. Fennell explains, “Particularly in a one person show, you absolutely have to stay in the moment. My biggest fear is to let the audience down . . . If I ever slip out of my head for a second and just deliver a line to get through it, I’m so disappointed in myself.”

So if an actor can expect fear and loneliness as rewards for a performance why would anyone attempt it?

Fennell sums up the experience as a whole, saying “I think being in a one-person show is an incredible challenge, but the reward is just — when you finish and you learn it and you accomplish it, there’s such a joy for me.”

Koozin says, “It’s also a fabulous challenge to have as an actor, to start a process where you bare your soul, you’re completely vulnerable . . . It’s a rare opportunity for an actor. It shows you what you’re made of.”

At the end of our discussion, I thought back to, Matranga’s Felix Artifex in Mistakes Were Made. Throughout the play Felix’s plans for his Broadway-bound French Revolution epic hilariously unravel, along with his sanity.

In the end, alone on the stage shattered and almost, but not quite, defeated, he begins to realize that maybe to tell a true story of human calamity and comedy he doesn’t need a cast of thousands, maybe all he needs is an actor (or two) onstage baring his soul and an audience to bear witness.