Monologue: Another Bad Night at the Candy Factory by Jeff Belanger

Another Bad Night at the Candy Factory is a play written by a guy I know from back home in Jersey named Jeff Belanger. It was performed during my theatre company's premiere show, Another Bad Night.

I was kicking to get an opportunity to direct it myself, but I just couldn't make the time. Thankfully my chum and colleague Chelsea stepped up to direct it. And then she cast me as Harry, which turned out to be the most favorite of my roles that I have ever performed.



It's funny. Of the three characters in Candy Factory, Harry is the one I thought I was like the least on my first reading of it. He's straight-laced, impatient and stubborn. I thought for sure that Chelsea would cast me as the nicer, lazier Marty. Playing Harry brought me in touch with a completely different kind of energy that I don't get to channel too often. He's an asshole, but he's so determined.

This is the only monologue I've posted that's from a role that I've actually been cast in.

Oh, great, I have to die because you want to do more stuff.

I have plans! I’m preparing a life. A home for myself. A wife. I’m gonna raise a kid! I have investments AND a career!

YES, you have a JOB! People quit it after a few months! I have a CAREER! That means EMPLOYMENT till I retire! All these small things are building a LIFE! I AM GETTING A LIFE! You have... you have...

Just... I don’t know. I don’t know what you call what you have.

It’s stuff.

Listen, I get it... you’re not all about making money and comfort and all that jazz... but I am and I need to be alive to do all that. You can die now because your life will probably be the same forty years from now as it is today. I’m going to change.

I know I’m being obnoxious. But c’mon, I’ve put so much work towards BUILDING a life and it’s about to pay off. I worked hard, man. And I know you think it’s stupid that I worked so hard but... I mean, if I die now, I didn’t get to kick back like you did. If you die... I mean, at least you got to take it easy for the most part. You did what you loved...

Another Bad Night

This Saturday night at 7:30, my theatre company, Rough Week - which I have just introduced to you RIGHT NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME - will be producing five short plays by playwright, friend and founder of The International Brain Transplant Committee, Jeff Belanger!

These are the funniest and most surprisingly thoughtful plays I've ever had the pleasure of working on, and you can see them for the low, low price of FIVE DOLLARS, or the low, lower price of THREE DOLLARS if you're a student, or the low, lowest price of TWO DOLLARS if you're an Emerson College student! Add snacks and general mirth and merriment on top of that, and you've got a night of theatre that can't be topped!!

Located at United South End Settlements at 566 Columbus Ave. at the corner of Massachusetts Ave., it's two blocks from Symphony station on the Green Line and a mere one block from Massachusetts Ave. station on the Orange Line!

Witness the birth of a bright new star in the sky of Boston theatre! ANOTHER BAD NIGHT!

Reserve tickets at roughweekproductions@gmail.com.
Or check out the Facebook page!

#5.5. SLAMBoston, again

After finishing up with our Shakespeare Now auditions, Chelsea, Joe and I walked down the street into Boston University territory to attend auditions for the Independent Drama Society's SLAMBoston.

For those that don't know, SLAMBoston is a ten-minute play festival licensed by Another Country Productions to other theatre companies. The producing company gets to use the name "SLAMBoston" while Another Country gets to put their name on the bill. Everybody wins!!

Location
When we reached the building in which the auditions were said to be held, the three of us - with the help of our new traveling companion, Mike, who had also just come from the Shakespeare Now audition - scoured the halls for clues as to what room the auditions were being held in.

In time, we stumbled upon a fellow from the IDS who pointed us upstairs into a lecture hall. There, the lot of us filled out audition forms and read over summaries for the eight or so plays being produced, all while shooting the breeze with the gang in charge.

Scenario
All the gang from the IDS - they didn't seem any older than us, which was pretty heartening - were running around handing off scripts and information to each other from between the sign-in room in the second floor and the audition room a floor above and several doors over. This was so, because they were the only rooms in the building that they could find.

Joe and I were handed sides from a play about guys who can or can't pee while they're having a conversation.

Audition
And then we went upstairs to read it for four or five directors. Afterwards, one of them handed us a piece of paper and said, "Make a scene out of this. Come back in five minutes."

He handed us The Jabberwocky.

So Joe and I crafted a tale of love, valor and cowardice, and through both our pains the Jabberwocky was slain.

Chelsea and Katie Müller , who arrived shortly after us when we told her to come, were handed the same material, only instead of slaying the Jabberwocky they humped each other.

The audition went on very similarly, being handed sides and working on them very quickly with each other, and those that we didn't know as well. The materials seemed more varied and accessible than that from the last SLAMBoston I was in. It was as far removed as you could imagine from the Shakespeare Now audition - we were having fun!

Reflection
I was cast! The play is called Canadian Tuxedo, and is being directed by Ben Flad of the IDS. It's about hitmen. Which is rad.

Katie was also cast in a play along with our cohort Scarlett Redmond. We are taking this Slam by storm.

So, in these last two rounds of headshots, the two times that I was cast were for productions of SLAMBoston.

The professional companies may not care for me, but the independent guys seem to love me!

And: I was never actually asked for a headshot. That totally makes up for my having to give two to the Shakespeare Now people.

Cha-ching!



Still, 5 headshots remain.

#4. & #5. Shakespeare Now Tour

I have returned again to Boston Playwrights Theater to flex my Shakespeare muscles.

This time, it's for touring productions of Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer Night's Dream and Macbeth.

80 bucks a show. You better believe every actor I knew showed up.

Scenario
After reading for a webseries about superhero dating at my alma mater, Emerson College, I hopped on the train and headed right over to Boston Playwrights' Theatre.

Comrades Chelsea Schmidt and Joe Ruscio were already signing in when I arrived. They recognized several young actors, as did I. My roommates Megan Reynold (who is cast in their current production of Macbeth) and Andres Solorano (who is cast in Apollinaire's Wonderful World of Dissocia) appeared in time.

I'm gonna be honest. I was pretty nervous. I worked very hard on my monologue on the roof of my apartment. I mean, rolling around and yelling at people in the streets below. But I hadn't gotten the chance to perform it in front of another person.

I was also gassy as all hell, which seemed inappropriate considering that everyone was pacing around and being aloof. Like at so many auditions. Didn't seem like the kind of place to just start farting.

But you know what? I can't change how I feel, mentally or physically. I walked off a ways, did some stretching and farted a little.

Audition
The three directors greeted me. I don't remember any of them, but the second fellow looked awfully familiar.

"What've you got for us?"

"Launce, from Two Gentlemen."

"Take your time."

Reflection
I'm not sure how I did it, but I got to the point, that point that sometimes an actor gets to when he doesn't care if his performance is what the directors are looking for - because at a certain point it's all about what HE wants out of his performance.

The thing is I'm not really sure how it happened. I'm not really sure how you MAKE IT happen. I think I was just lucky.

I think it was because, when I first walked in, I was legitimately anxious. I was anxious because I hadn't auditioned with a brand new monologue in months.

Maybe I can just keep alternating between being a complete slacker of an actor and then suddenly working really hard on my material. Exploring those two extremes seems to create a kind of apathetic satori where all is one and nothing really matters and that's why it's great.

I mean, like, maybe.

The thing is? Even though the audition was for three plays, the cast for all three will be made up of an ensemble of only 7 actors.

And they asked for two copies of my headshot.

WELL.



5 headshots remain.

#3. RPM Casting

Auditions for the roles of several college students for an untitled Columbia Pictures film shooting in the area.

How much competition do you think there would be for the role of MALE STUDENT BETWEEN AGES 18 AND 22 in the city of Boston?

Location

The Bayside Expo Center. If nothing else, it's nice that a lot of these auditions take me to places I'm not sure I would ever visit otherwise. Like Dorchester.

Scenario
I'm not even really sure how I would've gotten into the building if some guy with an ID card wasn't passing by. Thanks, guy.

From the first floor all the way up to the fourth, there were printed sheets reading "COLUMBIA PICTURES AUDITIONS" with arrows drawn beneath the text, pointing in directions based on their positions against the wall. Some arrows merely pointed in the direction of other arrows.

I was finally led to a large, empty conference room with a long table and several chairs. There was a sign-in sheet, an audition form and several character sides on the table.

So I sat down at the head of the table to fill out the form.







I explained that I was merely an actor, just like her. I then moved to an adjacent seat.

I pointed out the sign-in sheet and audition form, which I then noticed had room for a photograph on one side.

"I dunno what that's for," I said, "but I have a headshot in case."

"A headshot?" she wondered, looking at the form. "My agent didn't tell me to bring one of those."

I laughed to myself, because I did not need to hire an agent to tell me to bring my headshot.

After reading over the sides in silence for a bit, someone came to ask for my headshot and audition form, and brought me into the room across the hall.

Audition
I thought I handled myself pretty well, etiquette-wise, saying things like, "Would you like me to slate?" and "Where should I read to?" Thanks, Ken, for teaching me how to pretend to be professional!

I auditioned for a simple DV camera. I kinda thought a casting company would have a nicer one.

The woman with RPM Casting was quite nice and very encouraging - all givin' me directions and telling me I did a good job after each take.

That was nice of her, because I didn't do very well.

Reflection
Sides for film are almost always taken from the script with the barest amount of evidence for you to figure out the context of the scene. It's difficult to get a hold on the character - you're left to fill in a lot of blanks all by yourself.

The best strategy for finding the right action out of an infinite number of possibilities is to be open and at once focused; easy, but decisive.

That is to say: go with your impulses, because without any time to work on the material, it's the only thing you can trust. It helps to go through the lines out loud, taking them off the page, even if it's just once.

Unfortunately, I didn't do that. Once Rachel came in, I was too nervous to try. I figured I'd look like an amateur if I couldn't preemptively make all the right decision in my head.

Listen to me: this is a stupid thing to do, and you would be stupid to do the same. The most amateurish thing you can do is assume you can ease by without doing any work. Anybody who would be embarrassed for you isn't a real actor, anyway, since they obviously don't understand how it works.

That's something else I learned from Ken, my screen acting teacher. Win or lose, you'll feel like shit if you don't do your best.

Because, man, you never know what you're gonna get.



7 headshots remain.

#2. Company One

Since I was in SLAMBoston, Company One, the producing company, let me know about auditions for their upcoming 11th season.

This included productions of THE OVERWHELMING by JT Rogers and THE GOOD NEGRO by Tracey Scott Wilson.

Between boths plays there were only two parts for a young white male, but I figured, what the hell?

Location
Brookline High School. It's on the opposite end of Brookline from where I currently live, but I decided to walk there, anyway.



I haven't seen such a nice public high school since I left New Jersey.

Scenario
My audition was scheduled for 8:15, which seems pretty late to me.

I strolled into Brookline Hills. As I came in view of the high school, I saw a tall, good-looking young fellow get out of a shiny-new black car and stroll towards the back entrance. He was holding a headshot.

Damn, I thought, actors can own cars?

As he walked out of sight, I took out my phone with the intention of taking a picture of the car and posting it in this post with a caption along the lines of: Check out this SLICK RIDE that this ACTOR drove to this AUDITION at this HIGH SCHOOL!



I did so, and then I turned to walk into the school. I looked up and noticed a stairwell that I lot of people were hanging out in. They were waiting to audition.



Oh, God, all of these people just saw me take a picture of this car for reasons that they don't understand.

I walked in past the guy with the car talking to another guy about doing background work, grabbed an audition form, and filled it out in such a way as to make anyone reading it think that I had no conflicts.

Fellow Emerson graduate Andrew Oberstein auditioned, as well. He told me he was cast in The Wonderful World of Dissocia. Good for him!

I paced around the halls of the school for a little while. In some ways it was similar to my own Northern Valley Regional High School of Demarest, but different in that some doors had stickers reading GLBT SAFE SPACE and fliers for a Magic: The Gathering Club meeting.



Audition
The directors for both plays were attending. They seemed very nice.

"Hey, there. I'm Terry. Uh, I'll be doing a monologue from Red Light Winter by Adam Rapp."

The moment I began, I felt like punching myself. Not only was I standing entirely too close to them, but I realized I hadn't even gone through the whole thing once out loud before stepping into the room.

Once again, I was merely saying words.

You cocky bastard. I knew something was wrong when I didn't feel nervous at all.

They told me Thank You the way you say it to someone who gives you something that you don't really want, and I was on my way.

Reflection
When I first did my Red Light Winter monologue for my Business of Acting class at Emerson, I was on fire.

This is not to brag, because now I know the reason that I was on fire. It is because I believed that the only way my audience would be able to truly understand and appreciate the piece was if I performed it excellently. So I worked hard on it, because I believed in it.

I also wanted to impress all of the kids in the BFA program.

The response was so glowing that I got cocky about it. I let it sit. I figured that I already put all the work in that I had to.

But if I don't work in it, I can't find anything new in it to get excited about. And if I can't get excited, then neither will any director.

I cannot forget the importance of hard work.

Never forget.

Never give up!

Never surrender!



8 headshots remain.

#0. Counter-Productions Theatre Company

[The events of this post occurred on Sunday, August 2nd.]

Auditions for their third season, including productions of Hair, Yasmina Reza's Art, and Twelve Angry Jurors - presumably the non-gender specific version of Twelve Angry Men.

I was Juror #7 in high school. It's a great damn script, and I wouldn't mind being a part of it again, especially if it meant working with a director who did more than tell me "Louder!" and "Angrier!"

Location
The Factory Theater. I lived a block away from it last year and I never even knew. It's a cozy little location, one I wouldn't mind performing in.




Scenario
The audition notice asked for two contrasting one-minute monologues. I fell back on my favorite one from The Random Caruso.

For the second, I decided to memorize a monologue from Bernard Shaw's Candida - one delivered by Marchbanks, the young two-faced poet.

I worked on that monologue the night before and all day before going to the audition. I walked all over downtown Boston, performing it aloud.

Then I walked over to the Factory Theater. When I entered the theater proper, I found three people looking at a clipboard, at which point they all stopped looking at the clipboard and looked up at me.

"I'm Terry," I said, "I'm here to audition?"

"Oh, Counter-Productions?" one vaguely familiar-looking woman said, pointing back to the way I came. "They're next door."



I stepped out of the theater, and looked back into the box office. There was a curtain on the back wall.



I stepped through it.

Audition




There was a rehearsal room. At the far end was a keyboard.

"Huh," I thought, looking at my watch, "I wonder when they're gonna get here."

And that's when I remembered.





Despite what I had written in my to-do list, as my Google calendar illustrates, the audition was actually scheduled for the day before on Saturday, August 1st.

Reflection
The reason I post this is to humiliate myself into never screwing up like this again.

We'll see how that works out!



Still, 9 headshots remain.