Sunday, March 21, 2010

#2. National Players

Some time ago, I found a post on my Facebook profile from my comrade Chelsea.

A LEAD! Fancy that! It was for touring productions of A Midsummer Night's Dream and The Scarlet Letter. I called those fellows right quick to schedule an audition.

Here's a secret about me, guys: I have no formal training in classical performance. I mean, I don't think most people would count when I attended the Shakespeare Summer Arts Institute of Closter, New Jersey - even if it was under the direction of the woman who would eventually become my acting mentor, who was kind of a combination of Mister Miyagi and The Major from Ghost in the Shell. We'll revisit that Some Other Time.

Still I try, even with nothing to guide me but the memories of the performances of others, which surprisingly doesn't reveal the whole story. So I've decided to just tackle Shakespeare the same way I tackle any other material - by walking around in public and reciting it over and over until it means something, stops meaning something, and then means something again.

The audition was at the ivy-covered Boston University College of Fine Arts. I had rehearsed here before, about 8 months ago for SLAMBoston.

I came in and found one or two other actors standing outside of a performance space, waiting to audition. They were stretching and doing vocal exercises. Students, I presumed, because only students do Alexander and Linklater exercises outside of their audition... Though it did look rather freeing. I decided to roll down my spine and touch my inner sound.

Suddenly, a tap on my lower back! It was comrade Joe, who had just come out of his audition. The director had him do two monologues from Much Ado About Nothing and Blue... Blue... Blue something, I forget. Shift? Gender? Velvet? Help me out, Joe.

Apparently Joe also talked up Rough Week. 'Atta boy.

I paced around a little more, psychin' up, then Linklater girl came out and told me to go ahead on in.

I did Launce from Two Gentlemen of Verona. Now, it's a sweet monologue, but it's a lot of effort to tell the story of a man talking the blame for a dog who pissed on the floor of the dining room. I don't think I ever even had the chops for a it, but each time I try it I think, "Maybe this time!"

The dude was a nice guy. He gave me a very solid direction, and I did what I could with it. But by then I had worked it over and over again all the way to the audition, and I was... just... stuck.

I only did the one monologue. I was in and out pretty quick.

8 headshots remain.

1 comment:

  1. I'm not Joe, but it's Blue Surge by Rebecca Gilman!


    - Chelsea