Last night's audition was strange in several ways. Not the time spent in the room - that was mostly good, and I'll get to that later. No, it was just...odd.
First of all, my audition time was at 10:50 p.m. I've never in my life had such a late audition appointment. I assumed it was because they were in rehearsals all night and that's why their auditions were running so late, but then I realized it was Monday, and being a union theatre, this theatre would be dark, except for their administrative offices. Maybe they just have that many people who wanted to audition.
I knew that I would most probably be the last person auditioning that night and that I really needed to walk in with energy. However, even though I managed to not be yawning or sleepy (10:30 p.m. is usually my bedtime these days - don't judge - I'm a mom), I was not bouncing off the walls with my usual static electricity. However, this was actually a good thing, since the scene I wound up reading required a calm that normally I might have been too nervous to pull off.
I walked in 30 minutes too early - I live far away from this theatre so I never know when to leave. Traffic in Austin is capricious and often bad. But when I walked in, the person managing the auditions said, "Oh good, I was just calling you to come in early!"
So great, I thought, I can get home early. But after I filled out my audition form and handed her my headshot, I looked at her, waiting to hear something about the earlier time she wanted me to audition. She said nothing. I looked at her. She looked at me.
I looked at her.
She looked at me.
"So...I should..." I was at a loss. I didn't even know what to ask. She looked at me like I had three heads.
"Uh...I don't know when you want me...?" Again, the stage manager looked at me like she did not remember that five minutes earlier she had mentioned wanting me there early. I felt like a fool. Finally I gave up.
"That's my car out front - I'll be out there if you need me." Confused, I walked out the door and into my car which was visible from the table. I felt like I had somehow made a faux pas but wasn't sure what it was. I then saw a young woman who I had seen at my other three auditions in Austin last month. I decided to try to make a friend. Mistake!
I hopped out of the car.
"Hey! I keep seeing you at all my auditions, so I thought I would say hello!" She regarded me like a homeless person who had just asked her for money. I immediately realized this was not someone I wanted to know: she did not want to know me. This was someone who did not come to auditions to make friends. I was An Enemy. But now I was stuck.
"I just moved here from Madison. Have you lived here long?"
"Oh...yeah. I moved here in '06 from New York." She emphasized NEW YORK.
"Ah." I said. What was I supposed to say? 'Mercy, New York, tha BIG CITY!' Her aloof manner reminded me of the snobbish women I encountered in Chicago at regional auditions. I was beginning to dislike her.
"Have you heard from Austin Shake?" I admit, I was desperate for information. It has been almost three weeks since I had my second callback, yet I had heard nothing. I wasn't sure if this was normal or not, and had no one to ask.
She batted her eyelashes and demurely purred, "No, I haven't." It was clear she did not think it was kosher for me to ask.
"Oh me, either, "I gushed. "I just wondered...I mean, is that normal? I mean, not Not Being Cast, but not hearing for a long time, even if you are cast? I mean..." I was sinking. She was watching me with the steady, unflinching glare of the little boy from The Omen, refusing to throw me a lifejacket.
"I have heard that they often go several rounds of auditions," she said coldly. She glanced at her sides, clearly indicating that I was taking up her precious practice time.
"Gotcha, "I said. I was ready to give up the ghost. We chatted a few more minutes about Madison but as soon as the stage manager opened the door and said, "Hey, can I talk to you guys for a minute?" she was in the door without a backward glance even as I was mid-sentence. The stage manager said there had been a change of plans and the scene we would be reading had changed. The woman nodded and took off down the hall, forgetting me. That was all right, as I wanted to go back to the car and focus on the scene that I would now be reading.
The woman's audition was right before mine, but even after coming out and seeing that there was no one else in the building except for me, she did not acknowledge me or say goodbye. She swept out in a flurry of leather boots and fashionable scarves.
I have little patience for rudeness that seems accompany women who are in competition with me for a role. It's ridiculous. I realize that Austin is a small theatre community and there's not a lot to go around, but it doesn't mean anyone has to actually be rude. Honestly, shouldn't your acting speak for itself? Shouldn't your audition be what gets you the part, not treating your fellow actor like a wart on the nose of life? I tried very hard not to make judgments about New York actors that I happen to know are not true, and went in to my own audition.
It went very well. I read the first scene with a groundedness that impressed even me. The director unexpectedly asked me to read a second scene, and knowing that I was the last person that night and that they probably wanted to clear out ASAP, I saw that as a very good sign. They also asked me to let my hair down - I suppose so I would look more like my headshot (I had made a conscious choice to wear it up to look like what I imagined the character to be. Of course, this went against one of the cardinal rules, which is: LOOK LIKE YOUR HEADSHOT). However, I think I might have blown it in the second scene. I wasn't as prepared as the first, and missed some line interpretations. Most importantly, I just didn't have the rhythm of the scene down. I was misinterpreting the beats - I could feel it. And my characterization - so perfect in the first scene - had degenerated into camp. The scene was a fight between two characters. So hard to jump into, and so hard not to over-act. I was trying to be real. It wasn't working.
There was nothing I could do. The scene was too short to recover, and my character didn't have enough to actively DO - meaning, she was mostly reacting through the scene, and I had not prepared enough to be able to do so adequately. You can't react properly when you're looking at the sides the whole time. This was my own fault - we had been given all the sides ahead of time, but I had only fully prepared the one I knew I'd be reading. Stupid. Neophyte mistake. Always be ready for anything - number one rule.
I am not fretting too much. He saw that I can do the right thing in the first scene, and hopefully he'll believe I can do it again with the proper preparation. Of course, if someone else read both scenes that night beautifully, he won't NEED to bother with waiting to see if I can. I think I'd be great in this role, but if they don't cast me (or call me back) I can live with it.
All in all, it was a successful audition. Some lessons learned, and one of them was that Austin isn't the most friendly theatre community. I suppose it's my fault for being too forward. Actresses aren't known for their affability. Most of them, anyway.
If you know me, you know that what you see is what you get. I'm down to earth; I laugh a lot; I am unpretentious. I have humble origins and I've never aspired to be famous or rich - just the best that *I* can be, and therefore never felt the need to belittle or spite anyone in the business. I have a lot of faults and don't see much use in trying to hide them. I don't disguise how I'm feeling; not because I can't, but because I don't see much reason to. I'm overly sensitive and extremely intuitive. I wear my heart on my sleeve. Directors call this "emotional availability". I call it "$@#%ing annoying" a lot of the time, especially when it comes to my personal life. But it seems to be useful in my career, so I'm willing to accept it as a personality trait that doesn't need to be adjusted too much. Clearly though, not everyone appreciates it. The woman I tried to talk to made me feel like a complete idiot.
A male actor with whom I read for Man and Superman a few weeks ago had mentioned this phenomenon to me - he had moved here from L.A. and liked it all right, but found the community to be closed off and difficult to penetrate. I didn't want to believe that at the time, but now I am starting to wonder. Too bad. It's completely opposite from what Austin has always seemed to be to me - friendly, open, and laid-back. I disagree with the saying, 'you can't go home again', but if you do, brea in mind: home will have changed.
