You Never Know.

A few days ago, I went to an audition for a play being produced by a theatre for whom I've worked. The script was emailed to me the night before the audition, but as it was for a Sherlock Holmes piece, I felt comfortable with the characters and the play's needs. I decided to read the script quickly the morning of the audition to familiarize myself with some of the secondary characters. Whoops. All of the characters were listed as significantly older than I'd been thinking. By now, it was too late to cancel the audition. I'd requested it in the first place and know and like the people at the theatre. I left the apartment with a vague sense of unease.
Upon arriving, my worst fears were confirmed. Every actor there was significantly older than me. When the director popped out of the audition room at one point, she didn't think I was auditioning for her, I seemed so unlike the other auditionees. I discussed the situation with the theatre's artistic director, who is one of the nicest people in the business I've met. At one point, I even offered to forego my audition in order to save them time. She kindly insisted I audition and they handed me a new set of sides (pages of the script chosen to audition for a particular role).
In I went and auditioned. I had a great time and enjoyed my interaction with the director, the one person in the room I had not previously known. Still, I was fairly certain that I was too young for the role of the Scotland Yard inspector and left with what little dignity I could muster.
Much to my surprise, a few days later I received a call and an offer of the role. I was delighted to have the chance to go back to a beautiful part of New York state to work with people I know and respect on a play, which is much appreciated as musicals are where I normally work on stage. You have to show up to get the job. Once you're in the room...anything can happen.

That photo up top is where I'll be headed. Westport , New York. Elementary!

What a difference a day makes.

Last Thursday, I awoke to head out to an Equity Chorus Call. It was my last planned audition for the week. Before you think that I was looking forward to a long weekend, remember: I'm unemployed at the moment.
At any rate, the phone began ringing, emails arrived, and before it was mid-afternoon, I had three auditions scheduled for the following day. One involved learning music that I wouldn't see until late Thursday night. Amusingly, none of them were very good "fits" for me. Let me explain:

Audition one was for a project that began two days later. They were, to put it mildly, having difficulty filling two roles. I was to audition to play an Orthodox Jew. I'm as Irish as they come.

Audition two was for a project that involved harmony singing. Sounds promising. I read further and discovered that the roles were for ages 20 through 25. Now, I've been told I look young, but...I haven't seen 25 in a while. At least three or seven years.

Audition three was for a workshop of a new show with a team of creators I have worked with in the past. I auditioned for the role of an angel. (No comments.) This one holds the most promise, but the fact that they've called the day before isn't a great sign. Possibly, they were doing a favor for me because they know me and my agent "convinced" them to bring me to the audition.

By now you can see how many variables go into the audition process and how impromptu they can be. We pretty much have to be ready for anything. It's a long slog to Broadway.

I'll most likely never have another day where I audition as a Jew, an adolescent and an angel. Sounds like the set-up for a punch line. Oy, my life.

True Story.

Yesterday I ran into my friend, Ken, at an audition. Ken's a theatre veteran, having survived quite a long time in "the biz" and made a name for himself in some notable productions. He's always good for a story or two...or more. One of my fondest memories of him took place during a cast warm-up prior to a performance. As we all stood in a circle getting ready for the coming curtain, Ken leaped into the center and began a mad jig. In short order his shirt was off on the jig had reached levels of madness never seen before. Ken is all of five feet three inches tall and sometimes crazy as a loon. Needless to say, it was a lively performance that day.
At any rate, I ran into Ken and he shared another of his stories with me. Early in his career, Ken had performed with George C. Scott on stage. This happened at the height of Scott's PATTON success. After the show had closed, Ken found himself in line for one of the Actors' Equity required auditions, meaning he was lined up in a hallway with dozens of other actors. Out of one of the studios comes...George C. Scott, there to direct another project. He spies Ken in line and greets him, then offers to "put in a good word" for him and promptly joins the line. After a few minutes, he turns to Ken and asks if he has to stay in this line until called and Ken replies "yes". Scott apologizes and says he has to get back to his rehearsal and can't wait any longer. Ken said as soon as he left a collective sigh went up from the others in line. For ten minutes, they had wondered why George C. Scott was in line to audition and were sure they could never compete with him. True story. I have no idea if Ken got the job.

Some good news and some hope.

First, the good news: I did indeed get cast in the upcoming movie with Meryl Streep. Granted, it's a small role, but it's a nice little job and has pleased the head of my agency. Both important factors. So...yay.

In addition, I've had a number (three....that's a number) of positive auditions in the last week. In addition to the the audition mentioned in my last post, I've gone to two more union calls (the ones I don't get through my agent). Both times the response was positive and I wouldn't be surprised to hear back from any of them regarding being seen again. Of course, I won't be too surprised if I don't hear anything, either. I've already thought it through, though, and all of them could come together for a trifecta of great jobs fitting nicely into my schedule. However, that's highly unlikey to happen and it got me to think...

Actors are an interesting breed. We simply have to be optimists. A natural pessimist would abandon this life very quickly. Simply put, you have to live in the hope that something good will come along soon. That's not to say we don't grumble and complain. We're great at it. The old saying, "The only thing that complains more than an out of work actor is a working actor" is pretty accurate. However, when hope goes, so does the fortitude to get up each morning and start all over again on your own. So-- optimists. But we have to be pragmatists, too. If you don't have an accurate picture of yourself and where you fit in the industry, you're setting yourself up for disappointment. So...pragmatic optimists. We're a curious bunch.

Today I have a nice job around the corner and some good possibilities. Life is good. Maybe there's room for a pale red head around here after all.

An Excercise in Humiliation.

Sometimes a system conspires against every one's best intentions. A few days ago I went to an audition for a production of CAMELOT with the New York Philharmonic. It was a chorus call, which means that you sign up in advance for a slot to sing 16 bars of music in front of someone from the show. The audition was held in a studio off the beaten audition track, downtown, and I was hopeful that there would be a light turnout. I was wrong. The fact that some NYC theatre heavy hitters are involved convinced over two hundred Equity actors to attend the audition which was held in a small, hot, old building. Temperatures, literally and figuratively, rose quickly.

Matters became worse as it soon became apparent that there was simply no time-- only four hours between 3 and 7 P.M.-- to see all the men. The schedule of the creative team allowed only this one day, so the only alternative was to "type" actors. The process is: the actors file into the room in groups of ten, stand in front of a table where the music director and associate casting director are seated, and they decide who can audition based on their appearance. Obviously, this is a dehumanizing experience for the actors and eliminates any element of talent winning you a job. It's simply a function of how many actors are looking for work in New York. Even the team holding the audition apologized for the need to use this system.

I want to stress that I'm not blaming anyone for the situation. The creative team used the only option available to them under the union rules in that situation. Many actors left disappointed and unseen. If I knew of a better system, I would suggest it. Vigorously. However, when large numbers of actors meet the limited schedules of creative teams, there is never a great solution.

The end result in this situation was that somewhere over half of the actors were "typed" out and sent home. I was lucky enough to be kept and had a good audition experience, although at the time of writing I have no idea if anything will come from it. I simply thought this was a good episode to relate to people to give them some insight into the day-to-day life of actors. I watched some of my friends sent home and had some shadow of "survivor's guilt" even though it was beyond my control.

Think of these stories the next time you see a show. Often, the actors in the corner have traveled just as bumpy a path to get there as the stars. Sometimes more so.

Pigeons and Mussels, Alive, Alive-oh

My walk to the subway takes me behind a local grocery store. Every day someone, a person I have never seen in over 7 years, puts food out on the sidewalk for the pigeons. Usually it consists of stale bread, sometimes rice, occasionally something like old Chinese food. Often I have to pass directly through the hordes of pigeons as I pass. This anonymous donor obviously has good intentions even if it does mean the sidewalk is not often the equivalent of an Irish "tidy town".

A few days ago I passed and alongside the rice someone had put out mussels. Now, mussels are pretty pricey here in NYC and not exactly what I normally consider pigeon food. Maybe someone was trying to make points with the few stray seagulls that loiter near the parking lot. In any event, it seemed and odd choice to me, one of those random NYC oddities that grabs your attention.

A few hours later I returned and those mussels were picked clean. Amazing. Pigeons. Call them what you will: rats with wings, flying cockroaches. Above all, they are survivors, opportunists. And you know what? So are most actors. Pigeons and actors. We both find ways to manage and hang on despite significant odds. In fact, actors are famous for eating anything that's free. Now, I've never seen one eating off of that sidewalk, but I did recently eat some of that calamari with the tentacles, something that anyone who knows me was unlikely to happen. Why? It was free.

I have a new perspective on pigeons. A kinship. I'm still not putting food on that sidewalk, though. It's disgusting.

High and Lows.

For the last two weeks I've been neck deep in rehearsals and performances for RAGTIME at the White Plains Performing Arts Center ( www.wppac.com ). It was a frantic frustrating ultimately very rewarding experience. We "opened " on Friday with the authors in attendance and a very generous party for the cast and friends afterwards. The show only ran for the weekend as it was billed as a concert. We sold well, only losing audience Sunday night to the Super Bowl (don't talk to me about it). The theatre is charming. Just under 500 seats and located in a mall but somehow maintaining the feel of a live venue. We received very positive reviews and murmurs of moving us to a larger space followed. I was complimented on my work nicely. I played a racist of the extreme degree, a role I'd not normally be cast to play. It ended up being a very positive, empowering experience.
Monday I awoke, unemployed, and headed out to an open call for a show I'm very appropriate to perform (remember my ground rule about only attending auditions that are viable). 650 people signed up for the audition and probably 250 or more showed up. The theatre is most likely looking for no more than 20, probably less. The accompanist made too many mistakes in my audition and was almost impossible to follow. I won't get that job, although the people waiting in the hallway were complimentary about how I sounded.
High to low in less than 24 hours. Almost enough to make you wonder why we do it. All it takes is remembering how it felt to tell a story like RAGTIME. For now, at least, that's still more than enough.