Sitting through an audition provides an opportunity for some fascinating people watching.
There are those people who try out because being onstage would stroke their ego into gargantuate proportions. It's not because they are interested in acting, or cast chemistry, or evolution of character. They come for the audience greetings at the end of the show; the compliments, the praise, the gushing and hugging and handshaking. These are the people who refuse ensemble parts because if they don't have the leading role, they wont be involved at all.
And there are those people who can't stay away because they simply love everything about the theatre. Yes, they come hoping for a certain role. But in the end they'd rather be involved on any level in the show, because being around actors and scripts and costumes and lighting is so intoxicating, they can't live without it.
O, the plastics and geeks of theatre.
11.07.2009
11.04.2009
To play or not to play
I have an audition on Friday.
I'm scared out of my mind. It's the first audition since my confidence was shattered a few months ago in what can only be called the most ridiculous, fraudulent series of events that ever surrounded the casting of a play. Suddenly I am second guessing all of my instincts. I feel like I made some sort of mistake in that whole process, but it's hard to learn from a mistake when you don't even know what it was.
The show is called Damn Yankees. It's a musical from the 50's about baseball and a man who sells his soul to the devil in order to make his team win the World Series. The whole thing is rather campy and corny, but it has a certain charm as well. It's wrapped in the honesty and innocence of a bygone era - the seduction scene is extremely tame compared to today's lewd standards - and you can't help falling in love with it.
The risk of failure grows according to the amount of passion you have invested. The thought of 'striking out' on Friday terrifies me because I want it more than anything. Being onstage makes me feel like I'm living in TechniColor - all my senses are heightened, defined, expanded. The lights come on and instead of stage fright and an urge to flee, I feel utter confidence and a sense of "This is why I was born".
This passion is the reason I'm so afraid; but it's also the reason that I must keep trying. I must continue to take chances, because even a mere chance to be onstage is better than being in the audience forever.
I'm scared out of my mind. It's the first audition since my confidence was shattered a few months ago in what can only be called the most ridiculous, fraudulent series of events that ever surrounded the casting of a play. Suddenly I am second guessing all of my instincts. I feel like I made some sort of mistake in that whole process, but it's hard to learn from a mistake when you don't even know what it was.
The show is called Damn Yankees. It's a musical from the 50's about baseball and a man who sells his soul to the devil in order to make his team win the World Series. The whole thing is rather campy and corny, but it has a certain charm as well. It's wrapped in the honesty and innocence of a bygone era - the seduction scene is extremely tame compared to today's lewd standards - and you can't help falling in love with it.
The risk of failure grows according to the amount of passion you have invested. The thought of 'striking out' on Friday terrifies me because I want it more than anything. Being onstage makes me feel like I'm living in TechniColor - all my senses are heightened, defined, expanded. The lights come on and instead of stage fright and an urge to flee, I feel utter confidence and a sense of "This is why I was born".
This passion is the reason I'm so afraid; but it's also the reason that I must keep trying. I must continue to take chances, because even a mere chance to be onstage is better than being in the audience forever.
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