Baby you can drive my car...

 

My best friend Thurston was a natural acrobat. He could flip on a dime, back hand springs, somersaults anything. Acro was how he broke into the world of performing. His ability to dance was lacking even though he looked like a dancer. He could eventually pick up dance steps but he had no formal training. As he put it “I don’t speak French. Say it in English and maybe I can do it”. I tried to get him to come to class with me and he did. Once. He thought he didn’t need to know how to dance because he had another highly in demand skill.

Soon after he got his Equity card, Thurston was hired for a major production in Germany. One of the main reasons he was cast was because of his acro. I also auditioned for the show but didn’t get a callback. Sometimes I still think I should’ve learned how to do a cartwheel. As happy as I was for his success, it was hard for me to watch him leave for a job that I had also wanted. At the time he and I were virtually the same type (more on that and the reverse of this situation on another blog).

Thurston returned from performing in Germany a few years later. I was overjoyed to have my best buddy, my partner in crime, my twin joined at the brain back in New York. Of course I was prepared for him to come back with a worldlier view of life. But I wasn’t prepared for what else he came back with…Noah.

Noah was a bleach blond surfer from Hawaii who went to Yale School of Drama. Everyone who met Noah loved him and thought he was the sweetest person. The two of them met doing the show in Germany. They became friends and eventually fell in love. When they returned they moved in together to start their lives as New York actors.

Thurston went on to do a couple of Broadway shows (utilizing his acro skills) and several national tours, one of which he was fired from for not being able to handle the dancing.

Noah did a few showcases but couldn’t understand why he wasn’t working on a larger scale. He was incredibly talented afterall. I told him the reason he wasn’t working was simple. He needed to stop bleaching his hair. No one over the age of 5 had hair that color.

An agent saw Noah in one of the showcases and invited him for an interview. I don’t remember if he got signed by the agency but he probably did. I do remember that the agent gave him one of the reasons he wasn’t progressing in the New York Theatre scene…

Needless to say Noah stopped bleaching his hair.

What was perfectly fitting for Hawaii, and even for Yale, was blatantly out of place for New York. Noah decided to take the agent’s advice. He changed back to his natural hair color and he looked great. The saccharine sweet disposition got washed away as well. He finally looked and behaved like a real, whole person.

He’s been working at his dream performing job ever since.

You see, it all comes down to “product”. And you are your product.

You’re hoping to convince people to buy what you are offering, to invest in your talent. Every performer knows this. What performers may not realize is that the people doing the casting are also investing in your height, and your hair color, and your eye color, and your weight, and your chest size and your skin tone etc, etc, etc. They are buying the “whole package”. The more your physical attributes and talent are agreeably related to each other, the more you will work…provided that your package is what they’re searching for.

I went to University with a girl named Sonria. She was only going to school to please her father. Sonria was destined to be on Broadway. She knew it. We all knew it.

Why did we know Sonria was Broadway bound? She was incredibly talented, of course (freshman year she was cast as a lead in the spring musical) and very good looking. She was a beautiful spunky girl next door type. In fact at an early point in her career she was hired by Mattel to portray Barbie’s younger sister “Skipper”. Her singing voice sounded like she looked. Her body type was what you’d expect to see on a girl like that and she danced with just the right amount of sex appeal for a girl who looked like her and sang like her.

All the elements of her product were in line. She had “the whole package”. Sonria only had to wait for the right project to come along for buyers to seek her out. After she graduated, that project on Broadway, came quickly.

Many performers seem to have trouble grasping the concept of “you are the product you’re trying to sell”. I mean we’re talking about art and artists and talent. It’s all quite subjective and ethereal.

But what if it were a car we were talking about?

A buyer who wants a 1966 Mustang convertible is not going to be looking at a 2010 Range Rover. Although the cars essentially accomplish the same task, they’re completely different. If the buyer walks on the lot looking for a Mustang he will move right past the Range Rover. It’s not what he wants. Perhaps a salesman can try to convince him that the Range Rover is what he wants, but even for a great salesman that’s a never ending uphill battle. The buyer only has the Mustang on his mind. Every great selling point of the 2010 Range Rover is going to be compared to every reason the buyer dreams of a convertible. The moment the buyer sees that perfect 1966 Mustang convertible, he will completely forget about the 2010 Range Rover.

It’s the same concept in the Theatre world. Substitute “buyer” with producer, director, choreographer, or casting director. They all have preconceived notions of how the person playing a role will look, sound and act. Substitute “1966 Mustang Convertible” with “sleek, sexy, classically attractive actor”, or whatever the producer, director, choreographer, casting director is in the market for. If you, as the artist are the “Range Rover” (a solid, mature, matronly actor) very often you will remain on the lot, unsold. You weren’t what they were looking for. You as the “product” will be unemployed, though thoroughly talented and capable of performing the job in question.

Sonria was a mint condition cherry red 1966 Mustang convertible. She was the car of choice. Buyers couldn’t wait to drive her. She worked all the time.

Thurston was a 1966 Mustang convertible, but his clutch would stick: he looked like a dancer but couldn’t dance. His packaging was not in line with what he was selling. So a couple of times he was sent back to the dealership: he got the gig but couldn’t handle the dancing so he was released from his contract.

Noah was also a 1966 Mustang. But he wasn’t a convertible, he was a hard top. He piqued the interest of the buyers but ultimately they went with their original idea. Noah then worked on his product by changing his hair color and his disposition.  He was always amazingly talented just packaged badly. Now he has the best “product” and "packaging" that he can possibly have. Everyone wants to work with him.

As performers we need to constantly assess our situation: our talents, our strengths and weakness, and our looks. Each of us has to accept the fact that not everyone is born to be that cherry red 1966 Mustang convertible. Some of us were born a 2010 Range Rover or a 1982 Chevy Nova.

Take stock of your “product” is. Learn what you do best and keep that “well oiled”. But just as important, know what you need to learn or change. Then go learn it and change it. Get into dance class. Take voice lessons and speech classes. See shows, showcases and movies. Read books, scripts and newspapers. Get a hobby. Get braces. Workout. Dye your hair. Learn a new skill. Meet new people. Sit in a park and do nothing. All these things and so many more will make you a well rounded person and ultimately a better performer.

After all, if you were born 2010 Range Rover you should be the best damn 2010 Range Rover on the lot. So when the buyers come looking for one, they don’t have to look any further than you.