Going in with everything and leaving with nothing...

So yesterday I had an audition at Act II Playhouse in Ambler for their musical My Fair Lady.
The audition went so well.  I went in with a song and a monologue that I knew really well, and the dance combo was easy as pie.  The director and I had a lovely rapport.

Me: I'll be singing "Home" from The Wiz
Accompanist: I love that song
Me: Me too!
Director: I love it too.  But I should say that in this case I'll only love it if it's good.  So I hope it's good.
Me: ...me too?
*SING*
Director:...That was just lovely.
Me: (inside) yayyayayayay

But I've had SO many auditions where this was the case.  I'm sure we all have.  We slayed it, in the bank, no sweat.  Then we get the rejection email...or we don't.

It's that in between phase that can be so uncomfortable.  Sometimes you wonder "should I email/send a postcard to the director/casting director?"  Or your friends, (who you KNOW auditioned as well), you surreptitiously ask them if they heard or if they know anything.  You begin to question your talent, your training, your connections.  You pick apart the audition.  You become certain they found someone not nearly as good as you.  Then you know they found someone better.  I could have done this differently or I should have taken their direction further or I should have just relied on my instincts...didn't I learn ANYTHING from viewpoints!?

I don't know if I'm more "hurt" by the rejection email or the nonexistent one.  I have found that through emailing the director, I've gotten a response to my audition and even sometimes feedback (which I always appreciate).  What I do feel proud of is knowing that my best effort was put out there and usually the director remembers who I am, even if I'm totally wrong for the part.

Usually I find the best way to handle that in between phase is to accept that you probably didn't get it and move on.  I have also found that this can be incredibly difficult, especially if you really fell in love with the part and it's a great opportunity.  But usually you don't land it and you have to pull up your bootstraps and search for another audition to distract yourself.

That's why I love NYC auditions.  NYC auditions make you really feel like your searching for new opportunities, even if you know you're totally wrong for the part.  You never know...

So who knows about Act II, I have no idea what their timeline for casting was, or if they are having more auditions, or if they've already selected and called their ensemble.  What I do know is that I had a great audition, and if I didn't get it, there really are a million other opportunities, you just have to look for them.

Becoming more "castable"...

Is that even a real word?  What does it even mean?

I've been auditioning and working in Philly since I graduated from Arcadia in 2008.  I remember when I first got out I said to myself, start small and work your way up.

Well here we are, three and change years later and I'm still working my way up.  Not that I'm being naive, I'm "new", and of course I'm lucky to have had to work I've had, and the auditions I've had.  But I'm not easy to pigeonhole...

Maybe that's what "castable" means?  Easily put into a category...or something.

At any rate, I've begun to wonder what my next step up will be in my acting career.  Grad school research is in the works for applications next fall, which I think is a wise step.  After all, we can't all just expect to walk into an audition and nab that part.  It takes work, experience, and connections.

So, as I've been thinking about this, I'd like to share my ponderings...

1. The issue with weight...
Unfortunately, especially for women, it takes...how shall I say this...you're not easy to cast when you're curvy.  When you're a curvy woman, you don't get considered as often.  When you're a curvy woman, you walk into auditions with skinny girls and say to yourself...am I the "risk" they might be willing to take?  You can always say "you MAKE them take that risk", but honestly we don't have control over that.
It's become a really sad state of affairs when being a size 10 is a "risk"...when a size 10 is "plus size".  What?  I don't consider myself plus size...
But it's true.  Of course not ALL the time, but with bigger companies and national tours, it matters.  Size unfortunately matters.
I'm sorry I can't fit into the 25 inch waist costume you've been dreaming about reusing.  I don't think I've had a 25 inch waist since I was 12....seriously.
Anyway, in my journey towards trying to become more "castable", I've decided that while I've enjoyed being a curvy woman for most of my life, I've begun to envision myself as a smaller woman.  I've had a lot of people say I don't need to, but ultimately my opinion is the one that matters.  Not only do I want to compete for roles in NYC, DC, and film, but I would love for once in my life to go to a beach in the summer in a skimpy bikini and feel really awesome.
Call me shallow!  Call me rude and selfish!  Whatever.  I can't speak for everyone, but when speaking for myself, to be able to try on a size 6 jean and having it fit would feel really good.  I would like to go to a costume fitting and have my hips measure less than 40".  I would like to be smaller.  And I'll let you know if in fact I get considered more often.

2. The question of the hair cut...
I used to have stark white short hair...

The lovely and talented Ms. Emilie Krause and I in "Midsummer..."

After a meeting with my agent about how to get more auditions and work, she said "you have a funky look".
Funky.   Ick...I don't like that word and I didn't really understand her.  I had actually dyed it for "Midsummer..." and it turned out that I really liked the look, and apparently so did some casting directors.  I got cast over and over in shows where I would ask them "May I dye my hair?" and the answer was always a resounding "no!".
Because my hair was that color and style for so long I decided to get new headshots taken.

Sultry, no?

Personally, I love my headshot and I wouldn't change a thing about it.  But after that meeting with my agent it got me thinking...maybe my hair cut, of all things, is limiting me?  After being away for the summer and away from my fabulous stylist, the roots were eating my scalp and it was time to make a change. Now it's longer and darker and now I have a delicious headshot with short white hair.  What a dilemma!

I'm happy!  Call me in!

Recently I've added the above shot to my resume so when they look at my HS/R they can say "ooh!  She's so versatile!  Look how well she pulls off those looks.  Let's call her in".

I guess the best that you can do is try to represent who you really are in your shots.  I think what casting directors need to understand is that looks change, and when I walk into an audition, please don't scowl at the headshot like I've mislead you.  I promise you, I won't let you down.  I can guarantee that one will be, at the very least, entertained by my auditions.

3. The issue of being a diverse performer...

I know, you're thinking "Isn't that the best option for an actor?  To be able to do everything?".  Eh, kind of.  While I think it's important to know how to move well, how to handle verse and heightened language, etc...in my experience having a lot of little things confuses directors.  They don't know how to break it down and sometimes it looks like they may blow a fuse looking at your resume.

Again, if we're using the idea that "castable" is "categorizing" then should we be focusing them on certain aspects of our training?  Or should we tell them "I can do anything!".  

If they get too overwhelmed, they don't know what to do, and they don't know what to call you in for.  Personally, and this is just me saying this, I think that it's good to have training on your resume, but what's more important is to showcase a variety of types of performing you've done.  That way they can look at the resume and say "well she's trained in stage combat but just look at the array of work she's accomplished!  Let's call her in".

Notice how my goal is to just get called in?  I believe that's a safe bet for right now, being someone so young and about to enter the larger acting pool.  Just call me in!  Seriously, you really won't be disappointed.  Maybe that's the best we can hope for...

When you love the show but hate the play...

This is a conundrum.  I've run into this issue several times while going to see plays in the city.  I love my fellow actors (almost always, especially this season, I've been very surprised and pleased by everyone's work) and I usually really like the direction.  But plays, especially contemporary ones, have a hard time deciding two things...
1. What the entire point of the piece is
2. What the play is trying to do

Last night, I saw Flashpoint Theatre's production of The Fat Cat Killers with Sean Lally (Michael), Robert DaPont (Steve), and Damon Bonetti (Dave Russel), beautifully directed by Noah Herman.  I thought the production was very well done.  The sound was spot on, use of 2001 alt rock such as Beck and Soul Coughing was definitely the correct choice, splicing each transition with a spattering of nostalgia and moodiness.  The lighting was great too, it seemed as though the room was breathing along with the scenes and actors.  Fantastic.  The actors, while this was a small piece, did some of the best work I've seen them do.  All three were loose and acting on impulse.  No one was rigid or making bizarre choices just for the sake of it.  I empathized with all three characters very much.  It made sense and I would say that the first 60 minutes of the play landed.

Then there was this odd "false ending" as I'll call it.  Robert, playing the part of Steve, came forward with a monologue that really made the audience go "ah!  Yes, this is the point of the piece! Yay!".  It was quite "Heathers-esque".  While his monologue was outrageous, it worked with the rest of the play.  Because of the nature of the piece, an obvious commentary on the 99% and corporate greed, having the play "end" with a monologue about taking control and doing something dangerous and risky worked for me.  The lights went down, the audience clapped, and we expected a curtain call.

However, there was an extra 25 minutes tacked onto the piece that made me go "huh?".  The "epilogue" (so it seemed...) backtracked on all the headway the characters made throughout the piece.  The "end" monologue all of a sudden didn't have a true meaning and that disappointed me.  As someone who really feels the 99% idea, I felt that the playwright spent the first hour of the piece giving validity to the movement, and the last 30 minutes taking that away.  Quite frankly, it pissed me off.

Maybe that was the point of the last 30 minutes, but it certainly shouldn't have been the point of the whole play.  We all know that corporations "win" (for lack of a better term) in this world right now, shouldn't he (the playwright) have let Michael and Steve "win" in this piece?  If it's a piece about empathy towards people who have no where else to go and are in dire situations, let them prevail for once.  At least give us that in the theatre.  We all have to leave the theatre and go back to reality.  At least let us live in that imaginary world for just a moment.

It's an odd problem to have.  You really love the production over all but the play is questionable.  You may ask, "How is that possible?  To love the production but can't stand the play?".  That's a good question, one I've been pondering myself.  I suppose sometimes you deal with a terrible script and you have to make it your own.

Okay, I'll comment on it from the inside out.  I've worked with some terrible scripts.  Most recently was "The Diary of Anne Frank" with EgoPo.  I'll be honest, I couldn't stand the play.  It was an updated script written by Wendy Kesselman (it was better than the previous version...trust me).  The transitions and scenes seemed as though they completely catered to the broadway production.  Scenes were stilted and confusing.  The dialogue was far from natural.  Characters said things out of the blue that really made no sense.

Mrs. Frank: How can we thank you?  How can we really-
Mr. Kraler: I never thought I'd see the day when a man like Mr. Frank would have to go into hiding. (exits)

Wha?  That's just one of many examples.  As an actor, it's your job to make sense of them.  In fact, it's your responsibility.  In order to tell the story, you must be honest.  Occasionally, you can get away with fudging a line here and there.  For example, the actor playing Mr. Frank, Rob Kahn, realized that most of his lines began with "and" and "but", so there was an obvious lack of editing from the playwright there.  So, Rob got away with making it sound more natural by taking out a few of those.

But what do you do when you fundamentally disagree with the course of the play?  You find the objectives and tactics that make the most sense and you dive in.  You must.  That's the best solution I've come up with.  Make it honest, and make it yours.  The audience will respond how they respond.  You have no control over that.  Just tell the story as best as you can. You cannot take account for what the play does, you can only take account for how you deal with it.

I must finish by going back and saying kudos to Flashpoint and everyone involved.  I really thoroughly enjoyed my night of theatre...even if I didn't like the play.

Missing theatre in your community...

Last night my sister and I were meant to see MEANWHILE..., a new play produced by Brat Productions in Philly.  I had auditioned for it, I know people in it, who directed it, wrote it, etc...long story short I was connected with it in some way.

Unfortunately, yesterday I awoke with a seriously bad back ache, to the point where it was uncomfortable to do ANYTHING unless I was lying down flat with my knees in the air.  It was the worst.

I had complete plans on going to the gym, making my hair appointment, hanging with my sister, and then seeing the show.  I had only heard good things about it and I was excited to cheer on friends.  But I made the executive decision, after pushing myself through the day, that it probably wouldn't have been wise to go out and see the show with how horribly my back was bothering me.

This leads me to my topic...missing shows in the community.  The Philadelphia theatre community is large, yet very small.  We have this incredible group of performing artists that all support and care for each other.  When someone leaves the community (such as grad school, or training) there seems to be a sore spot left.

This is what I LOVE about my community here.  So much so that I find it difficult thinking about moving away for more training.  I find excuses every year to stay just one more year. 

What's rough is getting to see everything that everyone is doing.  Often the runs are short, with same times and same industry nights.  There's only so much I can do!  And I find that I am constantly apologizing to people for missing their work, even though I see usually around 2 shows a week. 

How do I rectify this?  When I hear of a show coming up, I know that if I am going to see it, I have to immediately look at my calendar and pick a date.  If I say "I'll figure it out later" it usually turns out that I'll miss the show.  I also know that theatre is expensive, and with my budget I can only pay for so much.  That's why industry nights and ushering is so valuable.  And I CAN'T wait until the last weekend to plan on seeing it.  It just never works out!

When push comes to shove, if I want to see everything it takes some serious planning.  And hopefully no more back injuries...or whatever I did.  So to the ladies of MEANWHILE...and other shows I cannot see, I'm very sorry and I promise myself and all of you, my friends, that I will do better at planning.  It's truly my loss in the end. 

Welcome!

...to my humble blog "Thinking Theatre".  I'll be posting my opinions on shows I see, shows I read, my auditions, and whatever else I think should be put up here (including recipes, and awesome dishes my boyfriend and I make together).

Hope you all enjoy!  Welcome to Thinking Theatre!