...threat of Hell...

 

 Usually there is an onslaught of auditions that happen in the months of September and October. This year there has only been a smattering. For a while I was only averaging one audition a week and even that has dried up now. Luckily that gives me ample time to pursue other things.

 

With so much free artist’s time I decided to work on the musical that I’m writing. I found a composer and off we went. We worked feverishly for weeks writing and re-writing music and script. The script and half of the music was finished. I decided with all the free time I had I was going to do another table read of the project.

 

A “table read” is just what the name implies. A group of actors each take a role and sit around a table and read a script. The writers and anyone associated with the project sit and listen. They make judgments as to what works and what doesn’t. Then the project goes back to being reworked or completely rewritten. This is usually the first step in getting a new show on its feet (produced).

 

A brother of a friend of mine, Rhett, had written a one act and wanted to hear how it turned out. Rhett contacted me to see if I had an interest in reading a role. Of course I said yes. But the role was written with someone else in mind, someone a little different than me. The role was for an Italian actor, with references about it in the script.

 

The play was quite good and interesting. Afterwards we, the actors, the writer and Rhett (who I assumed would be the director) sat around the table and discussed the play. We each had our particular opinions about the piece and the characters we played. We shared them and thus sent Rhett’s brother away with some valuable information and insight into his new piece.

 

It was more of that outside insight that I was looking for. So I went about arranging my second informal table read. First I contacted people to play the roles. There were about 25 to be filled. We, the composer and I, decided that it would be best if we got singers to sing the songs and readers to read each role. This way the amount of material would be split between actors. This would give them a chance to really focus on their particular piece of the puzzle.

 

I went through my Facebook friends list and selected people I thought might have an interest in dong a table read of new material. I invited them to participate. Once there were enough people confirmed I went about assigning parts and songs. I set a date and arranged for a space. My day job, which has lots of gigs at the moment, provided me the opportunity to pay for the space.

 

I was working one of the many day job gigs when a guy comes over to me. He starts talking about how the evening was progressing. He looked very familiar. After talking for a bit we discovered that we were both in musical theatre. We had seen each other at auditions and at readings.

 

The guy, while working at our day job, then lamented on how many readings he had done. Jokingly he had said that Equity should offer a production contract for every twenty readings an actor does. More seriously though he was frustrated because one of two things happened to him with all of the readings he took part in.

 

Many of the readings that he was in didn’t make it to fruition. For whatever reason, maybe their bad, or ill-conceived, or there’s just no interest in or money for the project, these pieces went nowhere. No one ever heard of them again.  Thousands of projects end up like this, tossed in the trash bin.

 

When a project was good or well-conceived or had interest or financial backing, it went on without him.

 

With my cast list in tow I set off to do my second informal table read. Friends and colleagues such as Bruce, Donalda, Arthur, Teagan, Ann, Lisa and Phineas (who I cast in an Equity showcase a few years ago) were invited to read.

 

Donalda couldn’t participate. Her life was crazy. This is the second time I’ve invited her to do something and the second time she’s declined.

 

Bruce agreed to help but got an important audition at the last minute. Understandable, frustrating but understandable.

 

Ann is an understudy in a show and had to go on that night.

 

Arthur showed up as did Teagan.

 

Phineas accepted the invitation. Then later, unbeknownst to me, declined it. After sending the script, and music, and numerous updates he never bothered to send me a quick note to say that he had dropped out of the project. When it came time for his part in the reading there was nothing but silence.

 

I sent Phineas a text simply asking “hey where are you?” I didn’t hear from him that night. In fact to this day I’m still waiting for an answer. I know he’s okay because he has posted on Facebook since and even updated the invitation to his one man show.

 

For Rhett’s brother’s play there were no rehearsals. There never are for table reads. I had an opportunity to work on my craft and that’s what I did. I invested my own personal time in becoming very familiar with the play. I investigated how my character related to the others and what it is the character wanted and the conflict that it gave rise to. I went in prepared with my choices. I wasn’t paid for any of it, my time or the reading.

 

Rhett came to me after and told me how impressed both he and his brother were with my interpretation of the role. Both wanted me to continue with the project. Next after doing some rewrites they wanted to do a staged reading. The part I read was mine if I wanted it. And I did want it.

 

The piece I wrote is quite complicated and intricate. It’s a thinking man’s musical. As an audience member, one has to really pay attention to the character relationships, what’s happening between them and the underlying meaning of it all. It’s the actor’s job to communicate all of this to whomever is paying attention, whether it’s paying audience or the director at rehearsal or just a writer at a table read.

 

How is this done? In a word: home-work.

 

Whether during an informal table read, a showcase, a rehearsal or a full blown production on Broadway, an actor has to show up prepared and ready to work. Lisa, whom I invited to come to the second table read couldn’t make it. She was going to be out of town in rehearsals for a new show. However before she left she was stressing. She still had 20 more pages to become familiar with, so familiar that she would be almost memorized.

 

Lisa knows that to be an effective performer she has to be prepared from day one. She doesn’t wait for rehearsals to begin to start memorizing or working on her character, or accents or any of the other requirements needed for the piece or her part. She knows that the majority of the information is written in the script. What isn’t written in the script will have to wait for the creative team to dictate, things like over all concept, costuming and blocking.

 

Lisa was at home, prior to the start of rehearsals, working on the script. An award nominated actress was doing Home-work. She’s talented, yes, but she’s also smart. She knows that to be successful, to be nominated takes work. Work that needs to be done at home. And she knows that work will continue every day, outside of rehearsal.

 

Getting a show off the ground takes collaboration. It takes hearing the piece outside of the writer’s head which is why there is such a thing called a “table read”. It needs living breathing people to make the words come alive off of the page. Any show needs to be heard to see what works and what doesn’t, to see if all the elements are congruous.

 

Before making my second table read happen, I had to make cuts in the script. There were too many characters and the plot was muddy.  Everything that happened still needed to happen, it just had to happen faster with less characters doing it. When it came down to it five roles were cut, while one role was expanded. Why was one particular role made larger? Because during the first table read Teagan invested so much and was so prepared in his portrayal that he inspired me. Teagan made me, as the writer, see the possibility to use that character more. And as a result and use him more.

 

Rhett and his brother finished their rewrites. They moved to the next step in the process, the staged reading.

 

A staged reading is the second step in the process of getting a work produced. It’s where a new work, or a reconceived work, is presented to an audience. It’s so important that Actors Equity (the actor’s union) has a specific contract which allows union actors to participate in such an event. Because of this there are some strict rules which include:

 

No sets, props, wigs, make-up, or costumes.

 

No advertising or reviews.

 

Book in hand, no memorization, only minimum staging with no choreography permitted

 

For invited audiences only. (If Programs are provided, the names of all AEA members in the production are to be designated by an asterisk (*) with the indication that Actors and Stage Managers so designated are members of Equity)

 

There may be only one use of the Stage Reading Guidelines per project within a six-month period without the express written permission of Equity.

 

And...

 

There is a set number of rehearsal hours, 29, in which the company must completely rehearse and perform the piece. The number of hours actually gives rise to the name of the contract: The 29 hour staged reading contract.

 

The 29 hour staged reading contract's name is a misnomer. For musicals you actually only get 15 hours of rehearsal and for straight plays 10. Imagine trying to learn Sweeney Todd, all the music, all the blocking and all the character development in 15 hours. Since an actor is now being paid that’s exactly what’s expected. How do they do it? They work on it at home. Any actor knows that his or her reputation is on the line. Future employment is on the line.

 

After an actor has been working with a show through the different stages, he or she can become legally tied to that show. Should the show continue towards being a full production, the creative team must use this original actor in the production. If they want to replace the actor, he or she has to be bought out of their contract. Meaning the actor will get paid to leave the show. Now that replaced actor has the “privilege” of having to watch someone else perform a role that he or she has already performed. They now get to watch someone else possibly get nominated for awards for that role and that show.

 

For an actor this is tantamount to being banished to the ninth circle of Hell.

 

I was asked to participate in Rhett’s staged reading. Unfortunately I had already committed to my day job for the duration of rehearsals and the two performances. Not working these important dates would have meant losing that day job.

 

Rhett told me afterwards that the person who replaced me was different than I was. There were changes and rewrites made that suited what I did for the role. He didn’t do what I did. He didn’t fit with what had been envisioned for the role. Both Rhett and his brother want me back. Doing my work at home paid off.

 

Since Phineas didn’t show up to my second table read, I ended up doing the part myself. Good thing I wrote the piece and didn’t have to read it blindly for the first time. Unfortunately this is what some of the people who volunteered their time for me actually did. What they gave was of no help to me as a writer and no help in the collaborative process.

 

Actors who aren’t prepared are of no use to the writer, no use to the composer or director or choreographer and no use to the other actors involved. The people who didn’t do their homework, who came seemingly unprepared, or didn’t come at all are actors who are not valuable to this piece.

 

In fact anyone who participated without being prepared did a two-fold disservice to their career.

 

First, a good majority of the actors who were reading my piece do other creative things in the industry besides acting. In attendance were several directors, writers, producers and choreographers. One of the readers was a woman who a few years ago started her own company which produces several pieces every year. Rhett, a working actor, was also there. He had just directed and produced an extremely limited run of a new musical. The musical actually made money and has partial backing to continue to a full production. This was a prime opportunity to impress and network.

 

Secondly actors who weren’t prepared won’t have the opportunity to continue with the development of the piece. I hope to one day take the show to Broadway, or at least regionally produce it. Then I can offer contracts, paying jobs, to the actors who contributed valuable insight, who volunteered their time, talent and effort to make the show work. It’s these actors who’ll get the privilege of creating an original role.

 

Being the first to play a role in a recognized production is not something that happens every day. In fact some actors have very long prosperous careers without ever having originally created a role. But it is something that most actors covet. That lucky actor who creates a role will become the standard for that role. Everyone who comes after will be held to what he or she originally created.

 

Remember the guy I met at my day job? The one who was lamenting over how he never gets to progress with a reading when it does move on? Perhaps the problem is as simple as he doesn’t do his work at home. He waits. He waits until the director or writer tells him what is what. He waits until he has the time, or he waits until rehearsals to do any work at all. And then it’s too late. He gets replaced. He then becomes a mere memory, a ghost of what once was.

 

Now has to wait to audition just like the other 5 million nameless and faceless zombies in New York City. He’ll be auditioning for roles that are most probably already filled by the actors who did their work at home, who continued on with the production from its table reads and staged readings.
 

To be successful, an actor has to use every creative opportunity available. That’s what table reads and staged readings are, an opportunity. It’s during these times an actor can impress the people behind the table and make creative teams want to work with him or her.

 

Talent isn’t everything in Show Business, which is a scary thought. That just means you have to be smart. As an actor you have to do work at home. And...

 

"...if you’re smart, you’ll learn your lessons well".

 

the world in which you dwell’s no paradise

 

Well September is finished. School has started and auditions are in full swing. It’s back to life as we actors know it. This September was amazing.

 

This September marked the 25^th anniversary of the opening of Miss Saigon. Yes back in 1989 Miss Saigon open on the West End (London’s version of Broadway). It starred Jonathan Price as “The Engineer” and a then unknown Filipina, Lea Salonga as “Kim”. All these years later both are names you know or should know. Both are names a lot of people look up to and aspire to be, especially Lea Salonga.

 

I recently auditioned for another huge extravaganza of a musical, Show Boat. Because of the contract for this show actors came out of the proverbial woodwork to audition. You can always tell if there’ll be a lot of people at an audition based on the size of the contract and or the popularity of the show or the casting office. Normally I wouldn’t have gone to an audition for Show Boat. I’m not the right type. However the casting notice said they were looking for all types, shapes, sizes, ethnicities and voice types. And that was posted not just for the legality of the situation, which made me think it was true.

 

 At the audition, the people behind the table decide to “type”.

 

Typing is when the people behind they table look an actor up and down and decide merely based on what they see, whether to allow grant an audition. I abhor typing. It reduces talent down to a superficial level based on personal preferences. If I’m being honest though, that’s how talent is perceived anyway.

 

The guy ahead of me in line, an Asian, said that he was glad they were typing. That way the people behind the table didn’t waste his time if they weren’t interested. I thought this was pretty strange coming from a man of color, since the opportunities in theatre are so much less for us. I’m of the belief that getting in front of the table gives actors a chance to sway the people behind the table into a different direction of casting a role.

 

I’m a bit naïve and idealistic that way.

 

They walked my group into the room. Twenty of us stood in a line while the people behind the table perused our resumes. They announced who would win a coveted audition. The Asian guy did not have his time wasted.

 

Nor did I.

 

I’m a type. I’m a shape. I’m a size. I’m an ethnicity. And I have a voice type. On paper I’m everything they were asking for. Then again, so was everyone else including the Asian guy. The only reason I can guess why I was not allowed to audition is because of my resume.

 

Twenty years ago in September, my best friend Helga put me on a plane. I had been hired to open Miss Saigon, in Germany.

 

I auditioned because my friend Arthur told me I had to. He knew the production company. Moreover, he had heard what they were looking for and believed it was me. And it was. I was one of four people hired out of New York. The rest of the cast were coming from all around the world.

 

Me. One out of four. Well it was really one out of two if you consider the fact that one of the four were hired to understudy “Chris”, the male romantic lead, and another was hired as an acrobat. I was one of two guys who were picked out of 9 million people in New York City.

 

Life as I knew it would never be the same.

 

In this busy September I auditioned for a show that I’m great for, a show I want to do. I had a great song, a great outfit and a great disposition as I walked into the room. The accompanist was great. The people behind the table were great. I sounded great.  I was even asked for part of a second song. They actually listened to me sing the entire second piece. Great.

 

After I was done singing the people behind the table began a conversation with me. Again great! That’s what an actor wants, a moment to chat. Because if they’re taking the time out of their audition schedule to talk it means they’re definitely interested.  What wasn’t so great is the moment when they asked if I had done the show before. Everyone who mounts this show wants actors who have already done it. I haven’t done the show, yet.

 

The show is a “career” show. That means that once an actor does it, he or she can literally do it for the rest of their performing life. And actors do, provided they remain the physical type required for the show and the show is still produced. Forever Plaid and all of its incarnations, is an example of a career show. The people behind the table generally look for actors who have been cast in it before.

 

The people behind the table did mention that I had a nice resume, a good body of work and colleagues. These folks actually knew other actors involved with Saigon, Stuttgart.

 

In celebration of Miss Saigon’s 25 years, there is a revamped revival playing on the West End. It’s getting rave reviews, especially the guy playing this incarnation of “The Engineer”. His name is Jon Briones. He’s a wonderful actor and an all-around great guy. I personally know him. We did Saigon in Stuttgart, Germany together.

 

Yes. I did just name drop. And I can do it again and again and again. I know some big names in the Theatre world. We’ve performed together, hung out together, had drinks together, went to school together. Hell, we’re friends on Facebook.

 

Due to schedules and sometimes thousands of miles distance between us, Facebook is the only way to keep in touch. No one writes letters anymore or sends cards (with the exception of Christmas cards). Most people don’t pick up the phone to chat. We’re all too busy with our lives. So we rely on social media.

 

For our 20^th anniversary the Saigon Stuttgart cast and crew were planned a reunion. Unfortunately most of us are scattered throughout the world pursuing our dreams and goals. The ones who remained in Europe to follow their goals and were close enough to attend the reunion did.

 

I didn’t. I live in New York City. I let my passport expire. More pressing was the fact that I didn’t financially plan far enough in advance to afford to take the time off from my day job. I had important auditions to attend, shows to see and networking to be done. I did have the next best thing to being there though: Facebook.

My colleagues, friends, and family from Saigon Stuttgart posted pictures and videos and generally spread the love we shared, and share, from the four corners of the globe. I myself scribed a status update on our anniversary:

 

     Twenty years ago today a group of people from around the world started an adventure

     together. We’ve picked up some friends along the way and twenty years later we are on

     separate adventures but are still together.

 

The post opened a flood of responses from my Saigon pals. At one point the conversation turned to the upcoming gala celebration in London. My former flat mate told another cast member, who had done Saigon London that he should come to the gala show and celebration on the West End. He didn’t respond for a bit. When he did, he announced that he had booked an airline ticket to travel from the West coast of America to London and he was arriving on Sunday. The posting took place on Friday. The guy booked a ticket to fly to London two days later, or most probably the next day since the flight from the west coast is longer than coming from New York.

 

Who has that kind of life? Who can just pick up and fly to Europe on a whim to see a show and go to a party? Apparently this guy does. And he made it publically known on Facebook.

 

I wanted to be there. I wanted to see Jon do his thing on the West End. I wanted to party with my former cast members, many of whom were in the original production in London. I wanted to take a picture with Sir Cameron Mackintosh. But I couldn’t. I had to stay in New York City, and work. I had to schlepp drinks and hors d’oeuvres to billionaires on their private estates.

 

My Saigon Stuttgart cast mates are doing everything from starring on the West End, to owning a Bed and Breakfast in Tuscany, to having babies (and teenagers), working on Broadway, working at the Met, traveling the world, celebrating visiting 100 countries (100 freaking countries!), running and owning theatre companies and yoga studios, buying houses and apartments, running European fashion Boutiques (in Europe), getting married, changing citizenship, playing with the great orchestras of the world, opening photography studios, recording albums, making music videos and starring in films that are up for Oscar consideration.

 

And that’s just my Saigon Stuttgart friends.

 

Everyday my news feed is chocked full of all the wonderful news of the people who were and still are a part of my life. Each and everyday someone on my news feed is doing something incredible; opening another show on Broadway, visiting another country (I still can’t believe that one guy’s been to over 100!), getting married or having babies and so on.

 

Each and every day I think “I want to do that. How come I can’t do that too?”

 

Each and every day Facebook forces me to compare my life to the lives of those I know and love. It lets me share in their happiness and accomplishments, and I am truly happy for everyone.

 

But If I’m being honest, Facebook makes me so jealous sometimes that I can’t see straight. And it makes me feel that way more often than not. And if I continue down this road of honest, I have to admit there are times when I can’t even log in because I know the posts I see will highlight the inadequacies of my life.

 

Facebook shows me all the things I’m not doing and all the things I can’t have and all the places I can’t go. It shows me on a daily basis what my life could look like if I were as happy and successful as everyone else.

 

My Facebook feed is filled with rainbows, faeries and unicorns. Nothing sad ever happens other than people dying. Sure there are posts about political rallies, government coops, beating victims, police brutality and social injustice. Those things just don’t involve anyone I directly know.

 

This timeline was destroying my chance at happiness, weakening my drive and resolve. Because I believed, like most people, that everything posted was the story, the whole story.

 

Until I saw this:

That video woke me out of a Facebook feed stupor, a diabetic coma induced by all the sweet things that I read and pictures I viewed. The video showed me there’s story behind each post. But it’s not always a happy story.

 

This video woke me up to realize the enormity of my life and my accomplishments.

 

I lived in Europe for five years. I worked in theatre that entire time and was paid handsomely to do it. I met people from all over the world from every continent. Ok not Antarctica. They don’t have theatre in Antarctica.

 

Hmmm...Theatre in Antarctica...next frontier?

 

I digress.

 

I visited some of the great European cities like Barcelona, Paris, London, Amsterdam, Milan Brussels, Prague and Ibiza to name a few. Okay so Ibiza isn’t a city. It’s an island, but we had so much fun on the beaches, in the foam parties and the discos that open at 11am I just had to list it!

 

I came back to the states virtually bi-lingual.

 

I’ve directed, choreographed and cast shows in the regions and in New York City.

 

I’ve traveled the US doing shows both on tour and sit down productions.

 

I’ve taken vacations and cruises. I’ve hiked in rainforests, gambled in Vegas and visited the place with my Grandmother was born.

 

I’ve written the book to a full length musical. It’s now in the Library of Congress.

 

I’ve worked for and with some of the big names in musical theatre: Charles Strouse, Norm Lewis, Linda Eder, LaChanze, Burton Lane, and Anthony Van Laast to name a few.

 

I’ve had my picture taken with Sir Cameron Mackintosh.

I’ve done all this, me, a little ethnic boy from the suburbs by Canada, who moved to the Big

City with two hundred dollars and three suitcases.

 

The truth is, social media is mostly fantasy, just like faeries, unicorns and that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

 

We need to demystify and view social media for what it is: a tool. It’s a way to keep in touch with friends past and present. For actors it’s a way to garner auditions. It’s a way to promote yourself and your product.

 

It’s also a time suck, taking away that much needed resource from your goals, your dreams, your commitment. I've seen more than a few friends and colleagues leave the Business because other actors were making strides in their careers, while he or she was stuck temping, or babysitting or schlepping drinks and hors d'oeuvres to billionaires on private estates. Those poor souls spent what little free time they had plugged into social media.

 

 

I work on not comparing my Life to anyone else’s. I work on fulfilling my goals. I work on not letting Facebook or any other social media kill my dreams because I see someone else has already obtained theirs. I work on keeping my joy and happiness (and ego) healthy and alive. It’s those beautiful moments when you remember who you are, what you’ve done, how far you’ve come and where you want to go that infuse you with new energy.

 

I had one of these moments this September. And what did I do? I posted it on Facebook to share with my friends and colleagues near and wide:

 

     “I live in New York City. I just auditioned for a Broadway show. The little boy inside is

     screaming for joy!”

Yes. September was amazing, if only because of this singular moment. 

 

Realize that Social media like a gun at point blank range, is cocked and ready to blow holes in the face of your Career, your Ego and your Life. Disarming your captor only requires you to not take what you see and read at face value. You only need to not believe Social media as the only undisputable truth.

Doing this takes the bullets out of that Winchester rifle. And we all know...

"...The pistol shot can’t kill if you unload the gun."