I consider myself an organized person. Though the state of my childhood room at the current moment is an entire contradiction to that statement. However, (and my parents will read this as an excuse) I have psycho-analyzed my inability to keep my room clean as the part of me that says I don’t want to make myself comfortable here. I need to leave.
However, as I am coming up on nearly two years of post-grad life I often see my life concreting itself in this suburban Connecticut town rather than exploding in an active city less than 50 miles away with more opportunity than I could have time to get my hands on, no matter how desperately I want to. But that’s the dream, right–for the potential opportunity to be conveniently at your fingertips should you decide to take it.
The actual new year has passed, the Chinese new year has passed, and my birthday (a new year in my life) has also passed. For all intents and purposes, it most definitively is a new year and I need to move forward in some alternate direction to gain some kind of momentum.
This time of the year (for those of you not in the acting world who don’t know) is a time where lots of opportunities pop up and one must be vigilant in order to not miss too many. Around this time of year, January through March, many companies and individuals shows will audition for their upcoming season, for their summer season, or for spring-time festivals. The industry is abuzz with creative energy itching to latch on to a new project that will keep them occupied and going for the first half the new year. I am familiar with the number of eager actors that this time of the year produces, including myself.
January felt like a lull for me–filled with rejection and comforting responses from directors I auditioned for such as, “We loved your audition, but are unable to cast you this time around because we do not have enough space, but we would love to see you again!” Or I simply do not hear back from people and I can catch on that I did not get the part…That is common in this industry because everybody is so busy, wounded egos are the last thing on their minds.
But thankfully, February has lifted my spirits; after all it is my birthday month so I like to think I have to luck with this month. I have not had a lack of auditions, but the rejection slowed me down. I thought, what is the point? Maybe I am not good enough…I shouldn’t submit to these things because I probably won’t be seen. Yeah, similar sentiments to Emma Stone’s character Mia in the recent hit movie, “La La Land”. However, this last week has been a positive one and it has given me a much needed boost:
I landed a role in an original two-person play (albeit unpaid).
I had a creative lunch with the director/writer of said play.
I have been in creative and developmental discussions with the director/writer of a movie I am involved in, which won’t be shot for a while, but was needed stimulation.
I filmed and sent out two self-taped auditions (waiting to hear back from the directors…we’ll see).
I was interviewed for another project I had submitted for and it went rather well; I mean, it was fun at least.
I have made plans to see several shows in the coming months which always inspires me and keeps the juices flowing.
The Patriots won the Superbowl (this is un-related but made me very happy).
I am no longer sick (I was sick at the end of January…)
I have set up a number of other auditions and it always makes me feel good to see my calendar filled up.
I landed a paid acting gig for an industrial. Love being paid!
The only things I haven’t kept up with are my writing, voiceover work, and languages. But with this momentum I am pushed to keep working hard and not let myself relax too much. I must, I realized, be constantly active in order to make any sort of move forward and out of my hometown…(And at the very least, if I stay busy it will give me excuse enough as to why my room remains unclean!)
I must admit that as an actress, (emphasis on the fact that I used that word rather than actor) I will see a role posted that I think fits me perfectly until…..I get a short phrase in the character description that reads something along the lines of:
Yep. “Model Types”. I have seen posts of similar nature with wording along the lines of: “Must be sexy”. Yeah. So. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that one…I mean obviously there are actresses out there who look like supermodels (have you seen female celebrities lately?):
I mean there is nothing against these amazingly, indescribably good-looking actresses. They are talented, smart, have worked hard. But their appeal has become an ideal and something many expect when imagining a female character’s “look”. Which of course, leaves those of us females who may not have that “model body type” feeling discouraged and bitter.
Oh yes, I have felt bitterness. “Sexy” is a very subjective word. These ladies are, in my opinion, sexy. To some from other cultures, they may not be the ideal. I think I am sexy in my own way though I am realistic enough to know that I am not the same sexy as the above celebrities.
Still, when I first came across casting notices calling for extremely beautiful and gorgeous actresses, some even calling for whomever submitted to look like a famous actress, I was doubtful of my appearance. My talent is there. But I wondered how closely people in a casting room would notice that talent in the five minutes I am in the room with them versus how my appearance would stand out to them and what they were looking for.
I will admit that my face, though it has grown slimmer over the past year as I have put a lot of effort into cutting down on my body fat and gaining muscle in order to maintain a healthy body and more “appealing” body type, is fairly average. On a good day, it may be a prettier face but it is not a uniquely attractive face.
I know I sound harsh on myself and I probably am because I am my biggest critic. I know my face has features that stand out, and that as I said, I rather like my face. But when I say a “uniquely attractive” face I am referring to a face with very memorable features. Like Keira Knightley, Emma Stone, or Marion Cotillard. There have even been scientific studies that suggest a face with more defined or striking features is more memorable. (If you are interested in reading the article, check it out here.)
Granted, sometimes this bitterness leaves me wishing I was one of the lucky ones born with brown hair and blue eyes instead of a matching dark brown hair and eye duo. A casting director make look at me and say, “Oooh she is stunning. We could use someone like her. People will be drawn to her.” And that may be before I even open my mouth.
I may be exaggerating here as not all casting personnel are like that. (At least not for the stage or many nonunion projects.) But I still run across at least one post a day that calls for someone sexy, as I previously described.
The feminist in me rages and rants and thinks of a blog post to write to cover up my loss and console myself from more unintentional rejection. But I wish they could at least word it less singularly. Simply describe the character. She can be seductive and charming, a prom queen, or a King Pin’s mistress. But let actresses who feel the role speaks to them submit without having to overcome some kind of deep inner inhibitions. Women are berated by how we should look on a daily basis, so the last place we need it is in the work space. In this case, the casting page to start.
Of course I do respect their vision and their right to get what they need. Sometimes they need a model to fit the role. Other times, it just feels unnecessary and like maybe I should start writing my own scripts…Huh. There’s an idea.
Well look who made it back before the new year. I am not here to make any sort of New Year’s Resolution that I will become more consistent in my writing on the blog. Life, memory, time, and other factors distracted me from sitting down and banging out some quality posts these last few months. But I will say that when the New Year comes it is time for a change, and that means I need more self-motivation and stimulation.
Maybe even a little bit of routine…?
Ugh, I am not amazingly fond of using that word, but I use it now with the idea of creating a habit. Especially when it comes to the creative mind, a lot of work comes out of habitual practice and focus. Nurturing. I learned a lot about myself over the past year. It can be very easy for me to get stuck. And while I have some pretty exciting gigs coming up in the New Year, I need to keep pushing to make sure I have even more.
The end of 2016 felt like a bit of a lull. I focused more on settling back in from being away, I worked on a more personal project, I was pretty angry with the political circumstances of this nation and therefore became more active in public protest, I reconnected with some old friends, I made new friends…I wasn’t entirely unproductive, but I still felt my time wasn’t entirely used to its fullest potential.
A friend of mine who I hadn’t seen in years, recently told me she loved my blog and wanted me to post again. She enjoyed them and used them as a source to keep updated on what I was up to.
She related to them, she said. Who knew I was relatable?
Well, her kick made me recall my need for this– writing as a creative outlet– even in small doses like a “brief entry”.
So…I am making to effort and I’m back, and 2017 comes with me.
Tony season is long over, but I wanted to take a stab at publishing a theatre review, even if it is now no longer relevant. Enjoy!
* * *
Silence lingers around the vacuous stage; its performers having cleared away to allow the audience time to soak in the grievous aftermath of the play’s final words:
“He has his goodness now. God forbid I take it from him!”
Every person appears to hold their breath for fear of breaking into tears. In the communal silence the actors re-enter single-file downstage so the only sound heard is that of their heavy marching. As they stand there, breathless, tired, worn, looking into the audience with tensed shoulders it is the first time everyone in the room looks at each other purposely. The fourth wall collapses. Everyone recognizes and appreciates the intense, shared ephemeral experience they have all participated in creating and are desperate for reassurance that it is indeed over.
All it takes is a single clap and the shoulders relax. The actors and audience expel a singular, prolonged sigh and smile, releasing their characters. The air is electric.
Of course, this is the kind of ending many actors and theatre-goers desire at the close of a show; especially one that many know, like The Crucible by Arthur Miller. Going in, I was hesitantly excited. I had not seen a live production of The Crucible, though apart from having read the play in school was familiar with the 1966 film version starring Daniel Day-Lewis, Winona Ryder, and Paul Scofield. I had viewed other productions of Miller’s work, namely in more recent years as the number of performances increased in celebration of Miller’s 100 year anniversary since his birth.
It is always risky to produce a show. Art is risky. But especially so, at least in my opinion, when the script used is a familiar, canonized work. It often means a wider audience will be more willing to see the performance, however it also means that more people will be quick to criticize. And if your rendition or conceptualization does not offer something different and new, then the question lingers, what relevancy does it have now? Why is this particular performance worth going to see? It is very easy, say, to go and see a bad production of a Shakespeare play as his are done more regularly.
It was for this reason, as I said previously, that I was hesitantly excited to see this production. I knew it had a star-studded cast–Saoirse Ronan, Ben Wishaw, Sophie Okonedo, and more–beckoning a more fan-based audience. But just because a show hosts a large number of celebrities does not mean it will be the best…
What makes it a great show is how the actors all work together under the direction of a clever director supported by an effectively conceptualized set, lighting, and sound design. (Note: By this, I do not mean, the production scale must be huge and lavish–the show can take place in a black box–but there must be meaning or reasoning behind every artistic choice.)
Thankfully, this 2016 Broadway production of The Crucible directed by Ivo van Hove (more recently known for his successfully innovative production of Miller’s A View From The Bridge) was a great production.
In this production, van Hove set the play in a bleak classroom, saturated with bland greys and blues, punctuated by piles of desks and chairs along with the occasional prop, as per his seemingly minimalist style. A giant chalkboard took up most of the back wall. Stage left lived a wall of windows, and stage right was the only door actors used to take their entrances and exits. Immediately, despite its openness, the space felt suffocating. It became increasingly so as the play continued and the characters grew more rash, fearful, and radically religious. The classroom highlighted the play’s irony and tragedy, becoming a metaphor for order, authority, and false teachings.
Of course, many know the political climate surrounding the play’s original publication date in 1953 during the McCarthy era, was rocky to say the least. So, van Hove did not lose Miller’s reproachful, warning message to be wary of authority in his modern adaptation. However, van Hove did not specifically connect this new setting to any particular contemporary issue, nor do I believe was it his intention to do so, as he thrives on subtlety. He rather uses the classroom setting as a suggestive, modern environment and leaves it to the audience to gather personal meaning from it.
The costumes and sound design were similarly simplistic. Throughout the entire performance my ear caught on quite quickly to a low hum of music that at times sounded like an eery wind and at more intense moments transformed to a piercing high-pitched sound. The sound effectively pushed the more ghostly and paranormal aspects of the play further, pitching the audience down the rabbit hole along with the characters.
However, he did not dress his actors in period pieces, nor did he place them in necessarily outstanding modern clothes. The entire cast wore mundanely conservative clothing colored in grey and blue and, as van Hove noted, felt like a “chorus ensemble”. Just like in Salem, they did not like to show their wealth through extravagant clothing, and this visual heightened the play’s mob mentality.
For instance, during Mary Warren’s confession scene the male actors: Reverend Hale, Judge Danforth, Judge Hathorne, and Reverend Parris all circled about the stage in one large mass, moving to the front of the pack when they each had a line and retreating when another came forward. More highly choreographed, dance-like ensemble movements were present in several trial scenes among the men and the schoolgirls. It created a powerful, unbreakable and convincing barrier for the innocent victims and provided a stark contrast to the smaller, more intimate scenes between Elizabeth and John Proctor.
Across the board the acting was strong, raw, and emotional. However, I did wonder why van Hove chose to use some of the actors’ natural English dialects rather than use a standard American one. In an interview van Hove did on Theater Talk with Okonedo (Elizabeth Proctor) and Wishaw (John Proctor), Okonedo noted that during the entire rehearsal process they had all rehearsed in American accents until one night during previews van Hove said to try it in their normal accents.
Personally, I would have liked to see what a difference it would have made with American accents, especially having heard his production of A View From the Bridge in English accents and finding it irksome that he did not extend the characterization in that particular instance.
However, van Hove explained that he is not interested in keeping the plays in a realistic setting. Instead he enjoys focusing on telling the audience stories that are relevant today. To bring the play closer to the audience was perhaps his main goal, and he achieved it in a spectacularly inventive way. As Wishaw said, “It is such a brilliant play that [even] fifteen-year-olds do sort of understand it…”
Okonedo agreed, and said that even after adjusting to performing in her English accent, it helped make everything more transparent. That it was no longer a Salem far away from them. “The Proctors,” she ended, “could be us.”
I have slacked in the recent weeks on finishing a post I have been working on since I first saw the production in June. But the farther away it gets, the harder it is to write. It is a review of Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible”. The first theatre review I have written in a while, and what iS definitely becoming a good exercise in articulating my critical thoughts on a performance (which I usually have) but avoid, or hesitate, to share fully with my friends who are less inclined to care about my thoughts on a show’s scene design, sound design, and/or an actor’s chosen objectives during a particularly dramatic moment.
However, at the current moment I am resting my buttocks on a hardened seat in Salem, Massachusetts. No, I am not in the gallows…I am in a Starbucks for the AC, free wi-fi, and a coffee pick-me-up (after all it is 93 degrees outside). It’s just that the chairs are extremely uncomfortable….
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I am in Salem, MA! The infamous town (though apparently I learned yesterday it is a “city”) where the actual witch trials in Miller’s “The Crucible” occurred. It is the main historical event that attracts tourists to this seaside city. Though they do have a National Park I plan to explore and a beautiful waterfront paired with a fascinating maritime history.
But still, people here capitalize on the witch trials, and on my first-day leisure stroll down the main street I passed by many a storefront advertising ghost tours and all you need to know about the history of witches.
And don’t forget to purchase a miniature broomstick souvenir for your closest cousin Nancy who loves stuff like this!
I don’t personally have a cousin named Nancy; that was just something I imagined a seller on the streets yelling to try and make their wages…
But being here in Salem, as I will be many more times since I am here for an extremely exciting production which I fill you all in on later, is revving me up to actually finish my review. It is the right environment for such a post, and though I do not think many will pay much attention to it, since Tony season and the show’s run is almost over, still I want to write it.
Later I will venture to the memorial they have built for the victims of the trials and perhaps by empathy will be inspired to visualize what happened here then…
Or I could just head on over to the witch village or the witch dungeon or the witch museum and watch fellow actors re-enact the the events in their full colonial attire in this 90 degree heat! Oh dear, I don’t mean to sound cynical…
In reality, it has been a while since I have traveled on my own to a new place and this city is one I have always held a fascination for. But since I will be here on and off again for a while, I do not want to be a tourist figure. (Though on the inside I really want to be tourist!)
I just don’t want to be a silly tourist falling for those unoriginal advertisements. (Like the four women I passed this morning dressed in all black wearing witch hats in the middle of July…) I like to take my time with things; analyze, be critical. Indulge in the surroundings. I guess that’s why I found a Starbucks to tap into away from the expensive taverns and cafes aimed at people who follow their maps.
And perhaps that is why I am taking my time with my first official theatre review. Because I need that time to focus my attention and thoughts and not have it all come spewing out in a fit of passion. I need to make sense of it all. Just like I need to take my time to really look around here. I will have time to see everything and not walk the beaten path (a.k.a. the literal Red Line Path painted on the sidewalk for tourists).
So look forward to a review of Broadway’s “The Crucible” soon. Perhaps sprinkled with a little extra melodramatic prose, depending on how inspired I am here by the Witch Dungeon. Who knows…
One audition is never the same as the next. I never entirely know what to expect. Yes, the unknown casting personnel may ask me ahead of time to prepare a monologue or two; but then whether they will see something in me from my two to five minute performance that they like or need, who can tell?
And no matter how many auditions I go to, though they are slightly easier to overcome each time, I still get nervous. They could have already found who they want, or could be tired, or the person before me could have the same qualities as I have, but perhaps more to offer. Those are all the dauntingly negative possibilities I face at every audition. But then, going is far better than not going. Even if I bomb…(Those stories are only told after a few good drinks.)
So, I prepare myself on my hour train ride from CT to NYC… (Most of the auditions I head to are in New York City.)
I re-rehearse my monologues mentally, whispering to myself against the train window, slightly aware that I come off as a lunatic to the surrounding passengers. But then on the upside of this, no one chooses to sit beside me and I have space to spread out, work in some hand gestures with my lines. Can you say #Ikeepmyhandstomyself?
I meditate. Try to subdue any rising inhibitions and to cage the butterflies. One time I wore my Fitbit and was able to watch in real-time as my heart-rate gradually slowed to its normal pace, and I felt very pleased with myself.
Then when I get to whatever midtown/downtown/uptown/god-knows-where-town studio or shack the address I have been given brings me to, I prepare for how many people will be waiting for me beyond the door, hoping I am the one just as much as I am hoping it is love at first sight.
***
Recently, the most interactive and memorable audition experience I had was for a Renaissance Faire. This was a large audition, and most of the bigger auditions produce the most interesting tales because there is a vastly larger number of big personalities.
So, as I am sure you are curious, I will recount to you now this particular audition day, or more accurately weekend.
Keep in mind I did all of the above preparation and was still unprepared for the experience I was about to gain…
Day 1:
Train ride: Uneventful; on-time; didn’t have to run to catch the train. This happened to me two weeks prior when I forced myself out of bed before the sun had even started yawning above the horizon so I could catch the first train into NYC at 5:30am in order to leisurely make it on time to a gig I had in New Jersey. What my train schedule hadn’t told me was the train would be leaving from the opposite platform; so I ran frantically to the other side of the tracks (which requires running up and down several flights of stairs), my overly sugar-filled coffee cup splashing its hot contents on my still slumbering hands, dropping my umbrella several times (oh yes, did I mention it was raining?) so that by the time I made it to the other side I was soaked in a variation of rain, sweat, coffee, and tears and there was nothing I could do as I watched the doors close, mockingly, before my eyes and the train groaningly depart.
Yes, so thankfully none of that happened on this audition day, though it was a bit chilly inside the train as they preemptively blasted the AC at the first hint of summer warmth.
I rehearsed my monologue and broke out in a tiny-beaded sweat as I recalled they had asked for a song as well, and quickly listened on repeat to the two musical songs I felt I could sing halfway decently. I took deep, meditative breaths to soothe my racing heart, and by the end, I really had to pee.
Journey to the studio:Before leaving Grand Central I made sure to relieve myself. (I know these kind of intimate details may seem mundane and irrelevant and a little bit “TMI” to you, but I am setting a stage here, giving you the full experience. So bear with me.)
Thankfully I had been to the studio before so I knew my way ahead of time without having to constantly look at my phone to be sure I was headed in the right direction.
I also must add that traveling through NYC makes me feel like a complete ass. Not because I am incompetent in my directional skills; no, I pride myself on those and have been to NYC enough times in my life to navigate through it. As the comedian John Mulaney aptly observed in his reflection of the movie Home Alone 2, “It’s hard to get lost in NYC. The streets are numbered.”
Rather, I turn into a complete jerk and take on the typical persona of a city resident who is peeved by absolutely everyone and everything who stands in his/her way and always walks like he/she desperately has to be someplace in five minutes so move the fuck out of the way. (Note: Please excuse my use of colloquial, less eloquent language there; I was simply re-creating the character I feel I embody for you on the page.)
Waiting room:But that got-to-go sentimentality helped me to swiftly arrive at my audition early enough that I could use the restroom once more, sign in, stretch a little, run through lines, crack some jokes with the audition monitor, and be granted an earlier audition time. Then again, the room was empty of fellow auditioning actors apart from one other person who was gathering their belongings to leave, so I felt both relieved by the diminished sense of competition while also a bit unnerved, wondering what the hell happened to everyone else.
In the audition room:I waited immediately outside of the audition room, the door to which had, just minutes earlier, been the same size of all the other doors in the active studio hallway, but which now seemingly loomed seven feet taller. It transformed into the entrance to Wonderland, and I was Alice who hadn’t a clue what was in store.
When the monitor who had entered the room before me with my resume and headshot material, and who I thought might have been severely misled by the rabbit never to return, finally came out, my heart-rate had increased once more. She smiled at me casually and said, “Okay, you can head right on in” and walked away leaving me to silently battle with the timing I should take in opening the door.
Only in an audition have I ever thought of the way in which I should open a door and walk through it.
The only other circumstance I can relate it to that others might understand would be when you are meeting someone for the first time in person and they have arrived before you at your meeting place, so they of course will be looking out for you, making you the one they will spot first. You don’t want to stumble in or look frantic, no; you want to appear calm, composed, and totally at ease even though on the inside you are freaking out.
So, I opened the door into a unexpected tiny hallway that cut my vision of the entire casting table in half and increased the chances of my stumbling now that I had longer to walk. When I reached the end of it and could clearly see the amount of people in the room I said the first thing that came to my mind, “Hi. Wow, it’s like a party in here.” (Ugh, I know, terrible.) But they laughed at my nervous humor, making me relax slightly.
Honestly I didn’t expect there to be so many people in the room. It wasn’t a theatre festival I was auditioning for, in which then, yes, I would expect a crowded room because I would be auditioning for several productions at once. The most I had seen in a room for a single production was five. There were at least twelve people lined up behind the long length of joined tables against the opposite wall, all with paper and pen in hand.
Thankfully they were in good humor, it was early and I could feel their energy and excitement. It was, after all, for a Renaissance Faire. The people that work there are full of good spirit. I dropped my shoulders and let myself loosen up. They said whenever I was ready I could go ahead with my monologue. Right before I started, someone’s phone began to ring. I paused, wondering whether I should acknowledge this. I sided with yes, I should, so I turned around as they apologized, and I replied, “It’s cool, I hadn’t even started yet, you gave me time to breathe.” (Bad joke.) They laughed. I turned around and performed my two minute monologue spectacularly. They seemed to love it and laughed when I wanted them to. I used the space well, which for an outdoor performance is essential. You have to perform big or you won’t get seen/heard.
Then it was time for the song. I dreaded this moment and my breathing became slightly constricted. I dragged over a chair and sat down, staring them straight in the eyes. I wanted to give them a more still performance from the flamboyant one I had just delivered. And it’s not that I am a bad singer; though I have never been trained apart from choir in school, I can sing well enough. I am just not a musical theatre singer. I didn’t develop the lungs or voice for it. So as I sang I made sure to act through it to hopefully cover the mistakes I made. I sang “The Parting Glass” and looked each person in the eye, which calmed me slightly and when I heard my voice crack once I made a silly face and continued on. When I had finished they hadn’t seemed to hate it, so I kept my hopes up.
We chatted for a bit, especially about my karate and stage combat experience. I wanted to be considered for a stage combat callback the next day. And they said, “Well, we’d love to see you again tomorrow for an improv callback and a stage combat callback.” Not surprisingly, no singing callback.
I was relieved. I took the slip with the callback times, smiling and thanking them, and wondered how to exit the room.
Picture I took in a studio bathroom one time.
Day Two:
Waiting Period 1:
Humans. Lots and lots of humans. More specifically actor-type humans all wandering the halls, bunched into the tiny waiting room, stretching, hugging, laughing. This was what I walked into as I arrived at the studio for callbacks.
The air was electric; stirred by the bouncing, anxious energies of confident actors. It was vastly different from the solitariness I had experienced the day before. It’s like they had come out of the woodworks…But this was what I had expected on the first day, so when I instead found myself in a sea of happy actors who been called back, I was overwhelmed.
Where did they all come from?
Many of them seemed to have known each other previously and some wore matching stage combat school t-shirts. They dominated the waiting room, perched atop chairs, spreading their bags on the floor, completely at home. Faire veterans, I immediately realized, and knew my chances at a fighting role decreased significantly.
I didn’t necessarily know where to look. I squeezed my way through the crowds of people, plopped my bag onto a chair, rifled through it, and downed half of my water bottle.
Staying super-hydrated was apparently my route to acting cool and casual. This later, unfortunately, resulted in more trips to the bathroom than desired.
As I sat stretching in my chair, listening to the familiar conversations, and the number of occupants increased, the room felt extremely heated. It smelled of humans–sweaty humans. I drank more water as my face began to flush and my anticipation rose. I couldn’t focus and I could feel my purpose for being their slipping away, so I scooted out into the corridor and found an empty room to spread out in.
Breathe. Do the actor stretch warm-up, which if you’ve never tried it, is extremely beneficial. The silence allowed me the time to clear my head and lift my spirits. Regain my confidence. It didn’t matter how many people were there. What mattered was that I had skills to show and they wanted to see them based off of the brief moments we had together the day before. Right then, that was all I needed to know.
I walked out of the rehearsal space and sat on a bench in close proximity to the waiting room full of antsy actors. Others had done the same. Some, I observed, were quiet and kept to themselves, like me. Some looked calm or tired of waiting. Others looked eager, stealing glances to the audition room. Many were burying themselves in their phones to pass the time. A few exchanged brief hellos; while the rest that knew each other remained bottled in the waiting room.
Finally, after a much longer anticipation-building waiting period, the casting personnel sprung out of their audition rooms smiling and full of hype, welcoming us to come and join them.
Random people
Acting/Improv Callback:
The first portion of my audition was for acting/improvisation. The herd of us filtered into the room and the drapes that had hung on one wall were drawn back, revealing a mirrored wall. Naturally, we all worked ourselves into positions in which we didn’t have to completely look at each other, but could maintain polite conversation, stretch, and check the reflections of ourselves out at the same time…We all sat facing the mirror. Typical.
Some faces I actually recognized, having seen them from auditions. One guy I had worked with on a haunted hayride, one girl I was in a webseries with though we had no scenes together, and another girl I realized after, I had recognized from a stage combat class. Despite how large the industry is in New York City, it made me see slightly how it could easily be small. We were all working towards similar goals, and wanted to get cast.
The casting personnel introduced themselves: one younger man cheerfully said he represented the leader of the lepers, previously the leader of the Puritans, but no more. A middle-aged black woman, properly greeted us with an airy hello, saying she was in search of members of the royal court that she was queen of. The last man, a boisterous, bearded older man loudly proclaimed that he was the king and would be commanding the specialized village performers.
Their acts made us all laugh and just as they had, we were asked to introduce ourselves individually in a memorable manner. “Hello, my name is so-and-so and I _______(here we were to say something we could do or specify a trait and physicalize it).” I went with, “Hello! My name is Catherine and I have perfectly pleasant patellas” and brought my hands down to my knees twirling them like a bad dance move. People laughed and I felt off to a good start.
I love auditions like these, despite the amount of people in the room (which of course can get overwhelming). But it helps you to forget you are in an audition setting; forget about the negative similarity it holds to being a competition. You actually get to act with other actors. And acting is not about the individual or being self-centered. It is about sharing.
With each string of improvisation exercises we did, I reminded myself of what my English acting teacher, Kathryn Pogson, had told us: to always come with the attitude “I want to play.” Especially in a setting where you don’t know what will be asked of you; if you jump up first, it creates a huge impression. The Renaissance Faire leaders said the same.
So for the last exercise we were put in groups and had to perform short scenes in a world we had previously created and based on a conflict provided. I lost my game, losing the playing attitude, and focused more on how I could stand out. It is an obstacle an actor must always overcome–his/her own vanity and inhibitions. There must be a self-awareness, but it must be in relation to the surroundings and other actors. Towards the end of the scene I managed to regain some of that sense back, and work my way into it with my fellow actors, but it was the one aspect of the audition I wish I had done better. The only thing I had going for me was that I had been in the first group to go, and they thanked us for it.
Waiting Period 2:
Afterwards, as we all slumped or skipped or waded (depending on the moods) out of the room, we dispersed, waiting to see who would be asked to “read more”. It was always a good sign if they wanted to see more of you.
I was not asked, but comforted myself in the hope they would remember my earlier accomplishments rather than my later failures. I am usually quicker to criticize myself than praise myself. It comes with being an artist.
But I also couldn’t linger on the faults of my previous callback because I needed to ready myself for the stage combat portion, which I felt fairly confident I would do well with. I had been taking regular stage combat classes for the last month to ready myself for the audition. I now had hand-to-hand experience, in addition to rapier (fencing) training from my classes in London.
First, however, there was more waiting to be done as the casting personnel deliberated and took their breaks. I knew I didn’t want to be in the heated waiting room again, which was still packed with actors who had built up the courage to socialize in order to pass the time. I moved to a room next door, which was significantly cooler and more spacious. One other actor auditioning was occupying it, playing his guitar in the corner. He had been in my previous callback. We smiled, said good job and good luck. I clapped for his song and he retreated to the bathroom.
After a while, when I had cleared my head and the waiting time began to become irritating (that is the thing with non-union auditions…you have to be prepared to stay their anywhere between five minutes or all day), I decided it was time I forced myself to socialize. I inched my way into a circle of actors from the previous callback buzzing with laughter and casually joined the conversation. No one questioned my sudden appearance in the group, but rather welcomed it. It felt natural getting to meet people, and I was able to breathe again.
I think the reason I work myself up at bigger auditions is due to the number of people, personalities, bodies. They come off as intimidating, competitive, divas and I don’t enjoy the distractions, the judging looks. In smaller auditions I find it much easier to strike up conversation because there is only one other person to look at. You are not fighting over the sounds of other people, and can actually get to know someone without feeling the need to put on “an act”.
But this was a Renaissance Faire audition. There were divas here, but they were more medieval divas. Nerdy divas. I looked around and noticed the number of Star Wars shirts in the room. I smiled to myself and thought, Damn. I should have brought mine. Then they called us in.
Stage Combat Callback:
The people casting for stage fighters seemed like the coolest people. They all had facial hair (apart from the woman, whose natural curly hair made me envious on this humid day for actually staying in place), and they all were in fairly good shape. They were younger, good looking, and had a solid, guiding energy.
The introductions they asked us to make this time were, to an outsider, more simple, but definitely more technical. All we needed to do was state our names and follow it with a safe stage fall.
I would have gone first, had it not been for the fact that I had not yet been taught how to perform a “stage fall” and so had never done one before. Instead, I waited, letting people go ahead and observed the placement of their hands, the claps they made when hitting the floor. Some were more graceful and impressive than others, and others just looked painful. I did mine, averagely, safely. That was all I could hope for.
From there we moved on to choreographed hand-to-hand partnered fighting sequences. I cannot recall the exact sequence now, but it involved some ducking, rounders to the head, stomach punches, and resulted in my side being victorious.
My partner did not appear as well-trained and so we caught on slowly. The most important thing with stage combat (apart from making it appear real to an audience) is safety, and in order to maintain that, there needs to be a partnership. An understanding and awareness of looks to make sure the other person is ready and sees what is coming next. It is much easier to do that with someone skilled or with whom you’ve worked with for a while; but with a stranger, it requires steadiness.
Thankfully, when it came our time to perform, we did so with good technique, and with what I thought were some convincing punches. And luckily for me, this time I was one of the people they asked to stay and go on with the rapier performance sequence.
I was ecstatic. This was what I had been looking forward to the most as I had studied it for months while abroad in London and had a lot of fun with it. For those of you who do not know, it is basically fencing, but with out actually touching people or gaining points. Well, I mean, in book badass points are definitely scored.
This sequence went more quickly though it was more complex than the previous one, and I know I mixed up one portion of the footing. But I was confident and wanted to show my skill. My partner and I worked together well. We established a solid rhythm and spacing. We didn’t chop each other’s heads off. And the casting personnel praised us on our technique.
I left sweating, my face flushed, but happy. My heart dropped a bit when this group did not ask me to “read more” for them either. But I thought, Well, I did my best so that’s all I can ask for. And it’s true, there’s only so much thinking one can do after an audition because there will always be rejection. And as an actor, it is crucial not to dwell on that over the accomplishments.
I like the mantra, “everything happens for a reason” simply so I don’t lose hope. It doesn’t mean I will sit back and wait for things to happen; I want to make things happen. But it helps me, on some level, get over the rejections.
Waiting Period 3 – Post-Audition:
On the train ride home I reflected on what I could have done better, and then followed that with the thought that I couldn’t fix it now, so just needed to focus on what I did well. And in the end, I felt relieved. As the train pulled out of Grand Central, exiting the tunnel and entering the daylight, I saw the busy people of New York City passing by on the streets, grocery bags in hand, on scooters, walking dogs, cursing traffic. The exhaustion hit me, all at once. It was an experience only I had that day, even among the other actors present, mine was unique to me. I felt I had done something big. And I was happy with the little money I had in my pocket and the endless unpredictable track ahead of me.
***
A few weeks later I got the news that I had made it into the troupe (unpaid…only in non-union)! But for other reasons I had to decline the offer. I was disappointed, of course, after all the hard work I had put into preparing for it. But, everything happens for a reason, I guess…
And a few weeks after that I got a message from a fellow Hamilton College alumni who I had worked with. He wanted me in his show. An unorthodox “puppet” show. In Boston. At the same time the Faire would have been. Unpaid. I said yes.
I’ll start with an apology to all of those who I am sure were so enthralled with my first two journal posts that they were just waiting with bated breath for their daily dose of random witticisms and were then sorely disappointed. (Note the sarcasm in this…)
It’s true though that ever since I was little I was gifted many journals as a child for birthdays, holidays, when people were doing their spring cleaning. Journals make some of the best worst gifts out there because you can’t claim they are entirely useless. A journal’s usefuleness depends entirely on the owner of said journal, and therefore a lot of responsibility comes with keeping one.
Over the years I’ve kept poetry/creative writing journals, personal and irrelevant journals (a.k.a. diaries), venting journals (a.k.a. spitfire or therapy diaries with very little artistic value–they’d be considered obscene by law), philosophical journals (where I contemplate and reflect upon on my life in written form), etc.
These are some of my journals I have at home.
All of these journals started off with great enthusiasm and excitement, and some real potential. Even in my venting journals I tied those obscenities together with such grace that at times it seemed gilded in pure poetry. However, despite my efforts my short term memory would fail me, and I would slowly forget my self-made promise that this time I would develop a solid relationship with my journal and fill its pages every single day. Instead, they got left in bookshelves, under beds, at the bottom of backpacks or purses, and accumulated dust. Learned loneliness.
When starting this journal, of course, my intentions were to post daily and force myself to write no matter how trivial my thoughts were. As with anything you want to improve upon, one basic step is to practice every day and make it a healthy habit. My music teacher always used to say that he could tell how often a person practiced simply off of their sound. And I, as a musician, could certainly feel it when I stopped practicing for a while.
The same thing with languages; I was much better at picking up and retaining new vocabulary and grammar in Japanese when I was speaking it every day. No surprise there.
Writing, naturally, also takes practice and more interesting material may develop when working the craft more than once a week. When beginning, it’s like stretching out a very tight muscle that hasn’t been used in a while and in order to keep it stretched, to eventually reach a runner’s high, it takes discipline.
I fully understand it is much harder starting things than finishing them. That’s why I started this blog (though not necessarily with a finish in mind).
I started this blog because I had thoughts I wanted to write down and share; because as an artist I thrive on response and discussion. It doesn’t mean anything if it is not seen by at least one other person (that is not my parent…Hi Mom.) So instead of keeping my writing bottled up in my mind or half written on a napkin and later thrown away as trash (not even properly recycled) I wanted to actually make myself finish something.
Each blog post is my only little challenge. And I constantly get ideas for new posts. So it is a test I set for myself that every time I begin writing one I must finish it. And hopefully others also get something out of it.
I’ve always had problems sticking with something to the end, which is not a good quality to have in the career I’ve chosen, I admit…
Which is why I have been working to get beyond that adolescent quality. I call it adolescent because it lacks discipline, responsibility, and awareness. It is unreliable and wavering. These are, of course, not qualities I want to be associated with, and when I started the blog I knew I had a risk of becoming that even more by sharing my struggle with the world.
Instead of encouragement, praise, and creative criticism I run the risk of becoming a logical fallacy–one that I cannot remember the name of at the moment–like the boy who cried wolf, where once again I start something and because I have done so many times before without success people will not be excited but think, “Let’s see how long this lasts…”
That underlying fear pushes me. I do not intend for this blog to be mediocre or boring and worst of all, unreliable. I want people to grow with me through this blog. Follow my journey and help me even to become more consistent in my writing.
I have gotten jealous in the past of seeing others succeed, but they succeeded because they worked hard and kept focused. They stayed motivated and took chances.
I thought, you know, maybe it’s time for me to be on the other side of that. I still have a lot to learn to get there, and even more ideas I want to implement into “The Actor’s Struggle” to make it better.
Sooo let’s just say, I forgot to post my little journal entry yesterday, and for good reason! I was at work and my roommate from college who I love dearly and haven’t seen for many months arrived in town for a short visit. So I was a little preoccupied with hosting and hugging and talking and all that catching up to even realize that an an entire day had passed.
I didn’t do much in the way of theatre or personal business. I worked my survival waitressing job in the morning, which was extremely slow because it was absolutely gorgeous outside. So the general suburban public would rather be catching the rays on the beach this Memorial Day weekend (seeing as the New England weather this time of year is extremely unpredictable) over sitting in a stuffy indoor setting chowing down on pancakes that expand their muffin top rather than shrink it before “bikini season”.
Apologies for my rant…the shift had simply been extrmely slow and not very stimulating.
But the evening before, on Friday, I went to see the Broadway production of Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible”, directed by Ivo Van Hove starring big names like Saoirse Ronan and Ben Wishaw. I have withheld my critical opinion as I plan to write a review within the week about the production, but to say the least, it left me shaking. The performance was very powerful and I did stand up to clap. That gesture is one I as an actor respond to not simply for vanity purposes, but because to me, it shows the audience was moved enough to lift themselves from their passive positions in their cushioned seats…That makes me want to write about theatre venues, specifically on Broadway and the limited variety in the mainstream ones, but I digress.
But I loved the show and of course felt inspired by the talent to keep doing what I am doing so that I can one day stand on a stage with a bigger audience.
Not necessarily on Broadway where the tickets may cost $300 a piece, but to an audience big enough that will talk about it in more than just one town. Granted, the beauty of theatre in particular is its ephemerality. But the impressions of a profound production last and loosely translate to outside of the theatre boundaries, making a larger unseen audience a part of the discussion. That is what I mean, and that is what I want. Then again, hopefully all theatre has the potential to do just that.
So…today has been a day. Well you know how people are, especially actors. Sensitive. And it all started last night when my volleyball team lost our match. It wasn’t devastating, but we also just didn’t click that night so we lost all three sets without a huge fight. So, of course, it was upsetting for people who play well, but couldn’t find the energy. And as I took the thirty minute ride home, I felt simply lost. Stalled, despite the fact I was slowly moving forward on the long dark road in front of me. And this is a quite literal description (those of you who have driven on the Merritt Parkway at night would know). But the description is also an accurate one of how I felt looking into my future in that moment. I knew that the NY Renaissance Faire gig I had work so hard for and landed, would have to be turned down. This left my summer open. And with no immediate, prospective acting jobs in sight, paired with the fact I had just worked three consecutive days at my part-time job, making it feel more like a full-time job, made me feel…defeated. I questioned whether I could call myself an actor when I am doing other things more than I am acting and practicing my craft. I don’t know. It is a tough question to answer. And so this morning I had an audition for Shakespeare, which is always inspiring; and I am hopeful, but not expecting much. I think it’s time I seriously consider other routes in my part-time work that even though they may pay less, they will allow me to feel like I am moving somewhere in my career. Also, the fact that summer is upon us and the days are increasingly heating up, all this humidity can make one feel stagnant.
I am not a “triple threat”. And that is also something that I never really aimed to be. I don’t like the term, for starters. It’s too competitive and limiting; suggesting that besides acting, dancing and singing are essential to becoming successful and landing gigs. Have other interesting talents? Who cares. (Obviously, this is not the case, except when it comes to musical theatre.)
But it’s a phrase passed around so often inside and outside of the entertainment industry, that if you are not a “triple threat” and don’t have much potential to become one, it can get a little daunting. Will anyone want to hire me…? I used to think that way. But after nearly a year as a professional actor, I realized that yes, they do. They just don’t know it until I show them why they want me.
Of course, I am learning constantly about the industry and ways to market myself/make myself more marketable. That is always a goal. So when they say: with the money you make, put it back into yourself…actually DO IT. Otherwise, you’ll feel stuck and won’t be meeting interesting new people or making lasting connections. Especially being someone who was not born into a well-connected entertainment family, I have to keep finding and creating opportunities to make a name for myself.
What’s definitely hard about the whole beginning process is finding my niche, which I am still searching for because I am intent on landing any gig I find exciting. I do not want to turn a lot down. Then again, I also have to deal with the fact that a lot don’t pay, or if they do, not much. So I have to become critical of which I choose to submit for and keep encouraging myself that the work I am doing (which is low-budget and definitely not paying off the loans) is worthwhile. It is a stepping stone that is getting me closer to my goal.
The fact of the matter is, deciding to become an actor is risky. I cannot definitively say where I will be in five years, or even a year from now. I cannot determine how much money I will be making per year (probably not $60,ooo though). But in my eyes and heart, that risk, and curvy path, is exciting. I like not knowing when a new opportunity will turn up that could drastically change my life. I am someone fascinated by too many things to brush away the infinite possibilities. And maybe that can be an issue at times, because I can get easily sidetracked or have too much on my plate at once, that I am not heading in one direction as quickly as I could be because of the detours.
But then, stability is something ingrained in us as a survival method in today’s society, so by choosing instability I am choosing the raised eyebrows of doubt from family members who wonder where my college degree has led me with my unpaid acting gigs and waitressing side job. And like I said, sometimes I wonder the same thing.
But this is the actor’s struggle. My struggle.
So follow me as I search for those new and exciting opportunities, find my niche, develop threatening skills of my own, stumble and cry a little, get back up, and keep following my passion.
I know I sound harsh on myself and I probably am because I am my biggest critic. I know my face has features that stand out, and that as I said, I rather like my face. But when I say a “uniquely attractive” face I am referring to a face with very memorable features. Like Keira Knightley, Emma Stone, or Marion Cotillard. There have even been scientific studies that suggest a face with more defined or striking features is more memorable. (If you are interested in reading the article, check it out 
THE ACTOR’S STRUGGLE 