So... How Did It Go?
That's another acting question I always shudder at. Especially with commercial auditions – because how on earth can you gauge how you did? The people in the room may not be the same as those calling you back or casting you, so how you’re initially received may be moot. And, those auditions are generally quick, with the lines and instructions thrown at you, your performance and the final “thank you” all happening in minutes. And lastly, there’s a barrier between you and the CD – a camera, possibly a cue card, a monitor and some lights – so you have no way of reading the viewer, and while they may give direction for a second or third take (for variety’s sake), it usually doesn't include commentary.
So, unless you inexplicably mangle the copy or spontaneously combust – there’s no way to tell.
With a theatre audition, you can get a better sense. And yesterday’s combined audition went… well, but was not without hitches.
For some reason, I found myself almost blanking on the lines. Bizarre since I had them down cold, yet understandable I guess, since it was my first time performing this piece. I also found my lower lip twitching slightly due to nerves – but was able to use the shakiness with the tone of the monologue.
Afterward, one guy asked if I had a comedic piece. Well, I've had a few, but kicked them all to the curb months ago when I realized I'd been doing them for so long I’d become desensitized to them. I’ve searched high and low to replace them, but good comedic pieces for women – where the characters are not displaying some neurotic tendencies – are scarce. I do have a classical comedic monologue which I’d run through my head the night before after watching Moliere (LOVED it, btw), but wasn’t sure that was right for this group. (Though now I'm kicking myself for not asking.)
Anyway, I stood there stunned that they wanted more – I never realized it was a possibility! – and hastily dug through my brain which had become shallow and empty under the shock and the general stress of auditioning. But before crickets started to chirp, I grabbed the first solution that presented itself: I announced that I had a serio-comedic piece that wasn’t uproariously funny (truth be told, it’s not really funny at all), and asked if they’d like to see that. They did. So, I added a hefty does of sarcasm to the lines and actually got a few laughs. I felt sort of like the MacGyver of the acting world – all I needed to get out of that mess was an old monologue, a few eye rolls and all the sarcasm of a fourteen year-old. Who knew?
(Of course, I don't know how they all really felt – maybe it was pity laughter.)
So… I was disappointed about the shakiness, the mushiness of a few lines and my unpreparedness to have an alternative piece – but I was deeply flattered that they asked to see more. Not bad.
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