Monday, October 12, 2009

A day of auditions

Prepping for a day of auditions is simple:
-shaved and dressed in you "audition outfit"
-music book in proper back back (I have two)
-audition song chosen before leaving the house
-resumes and (my version of) headshots
-train path (which trains to take) to audition
-vocal warm-up before leaving the house
Then I have to do the daily check:
-keys, cash, credit cards in left pants pocket
-ipod in right pants pocket
-phone, camera, reading material (for train ride) in backpack
Once at the audition, I sit down for hours and wait, which is what I did this morning. I arrived at 10am and was seen at 1pm for a company that owns three small dinner theatres. I sang my song once and they asked me where I saw myself in their season. Wow. I was not asked for a call-back.

At the next audition at a different studio 8 blocks away, they typed out by headshot. I don't have a headshot, so I gave them my resume. I was typed out.

Then I went to lunch by myself in the Ruby Tuesdays in Times Square. Their salad bar is a great place to gorge yourself on veggies. I rode the train to 50th, then walked to a bar called Blockheads that serves $3 mexican drinks where I met my roommate and one of his co-workers from Orlando who are both in town for two days working, for drinks. We had an intelligent conversation about the housing market, the Orlando Improv Festival and auditioning.

My third audition was in Brooklyn on the F train. I've never been on the F train. When I arrived, it was night time. The former church was empty except for 5 people in line waiting to audition. I waited in the kitchen for my name to be called. Then when I was waiting in line in the hallway, I made small talk with the person collecting headshots and names. Sometimes these people are part of the production team. This one was not.

At this third audition, I read a monologue I wrote. And when I say read, I mean, I held a notebook in front of my face and read the words off the page. I'd told the director I didn't have one via email, and he said to prepare anything. So, ashamed, I presented what I had. I wasn't sure if they found my display charming or unprofessional.

At the top of the page it said "monologue #2." I'd tried one other time to write a monologue. I read it the way I'd rehearsed: subtle and earnest, which I thought made it funny. Not a laugh from the table of three in the church. So I took their energy inside me and made the rest of the monologue serious and unfunny. They cut me off right before my last line. Not a single laugh.

The play I am auditioning for is a comedy.

Then they ask me to sing my prepared 16 bars of an Xmas song. I sing the "You know Dasher and Dancer..." part from the Rudolph song as "1950s crooner-ish" as I can. I thought that went well. They asked me if I could do accents and I said emphatically no. They asked if I would be willing to learn. I said yes, but with someone else helping me. One of them asked about the one date in November I was not available for. (She was reading my availability off a sheet I'd filled out before going in.) I told it was because I was seeing a show at Lincoln Center. She said she was always curious what shows people were seeing. I left.

I boarded the wrong train, then another wrong train and finally the right train but the wrong stop. I was now in Harlem. I walked all the way down one street in the wrong direction, then road a bus back in the opposite and correct direction and boarded the correct train. Everyone I stopped to ask for directions was polite and helpful thank Christ.
More Mark: Press | Email | FaceBook | Twitter | LinkedIn | Youtube | Website | Flickr

No comments: