I ran across this picture...

...when I was paging through the Arts section of the Times this morning. It accompanied a review for a new play, "Blood From a Stone," which opened Wednesday night at the Acorn Theatre in New York.

In the picture, the actor Gordon Clapp is throwing a glass of liquid (milk?) at Ethan Hawke. (I know what you're thinking: yeah, yeah, we can see that; get to the point.)

And my point is that this is a play, not a movie. (Again, he's telling us the earth is round.)

But as I imagine the movie-making process, I picture the scene requiring two or three takes to get just right. Then, some eccentric, beret-wearing director would yell out, "CUT! Okay, that's a wrap everyone. Take five. Gordon, that was beautiful! You're beautiful, baby!" And everyone would retreat to their dressing rooms feeling really good about themselves.

But in a play, like this one, the actors have to do this scene every night (or at least that's how I understand it). I wonder what that would be like. Sure, it's fine for Mr. Clapp (interesting name for show-biz, by the way). If he's had a bad day he can just take it out on Mr. Hawke. Take that, A******!

But Ethan Hawke, on the other hand, has to prepare to get that milk thrown in his face every night. And I don't care how good of an actor you are, or how many Method classes you've taken, it's got to be a natural human reaction to dread that darn glass of milk getting thrown in your face every night. Imagine what Hawke must be thinking every evening around 9:30 or so: Here comes that @#$% glass of milk again! Imagine how hard it must be not to duck. And what about that woman, Ann Dowd, next to him? Oy! I'm about to get splashed again! And remember, this takes place night after night after night.

If they're lucky.