In the golden age of movies a studio executive would take someone right off the street and make him or her a star. The “actor” merely had to sign on the dotted line. This meant working exclusively with that studio.
The actor’s entire world would change. Every aspect of his or her life from that point forward was laid out by the studio. The starlet to be would have to enroll in all manner of classes from elocution, to acting, to singing and dancing (back then everyone sang and danced). The starlet’s wardrobe was given to him or her and haircuts dictated. At times the restructuring of the face or body was demanded. Even the people this actor associated with, dated, and married was arranged.
The studio took care of its investment by letting the actor
star in 6 or 7 movies. All the actor had to do was to go to school to learn all
the studio’s rules and then make a movie. The actors who were exceptionally
compliant and or box office gold were loaned out to other studios. Actors who
didn’t learn or follow the rules were punished. They were relegated to featured
roles, constant background work or even no work at all. In essence the studio
played the part of the parent. They told the actor what to do, when and how to
do it, and with whom to do it.
Everyone did it this way because that was the way it was
done. Unfortunately the abuse and lack of inner personal truth spelled the
demise figuratively or literally for more than a few professionals.
I was having a discussion with Lisa, a good friend of mine
who’s a Drama Desk Award nominated actress. We were talking about actors and
life in the theatre. We concluded that actors can be akin to toddlers.
Toddlers are small people. They’re tiny personalities who
aren’t quite autonomous. They have the capabilities of speech, movement and on
some level cognitive reasoning. Their parents teach them everything: what to
do, how to speak, where to go and how to get there, how to dress, and how to
behave. If you look at the performing arts, basically little has changed since
the golden age of movies. Instead of studios, theatre actors have playwrights,
composers, directors, choreographers, musical directors, set designers and
costumers as collective parents.
Think about it...
The playwright dictates an actor’s words. In the world of
the play, he teaches an actor how to speak.
The choreographer instructs an actor on how he’ll move inside
the newly created world, teaching the actor how to walk.
A composer gives license to the actor to emotionally express
himself through music. The musical director will restrain an actor from going
beyond the confines of what that music will allow...they teach acceptable
societal norms.
Set designers tell the actor where to live. He gives the
actor what’s needed for protection from the elements, or not, as the playwright
has dictated.
Costumers provide the actor a wardrobe. They help define who
the character is by dressing the actor appropriately.
And the director maps out the actor’s objectives on stage.
He gives the actors the boundaries of how to go about getting what the
character wants and how he’ll interact with other characters while living in
the on stage world.
Like toddlers who want to explore the world around them, actors want to explore the world of the play
and auditions. They want to develop relationships and define this
new world for themselves. When toddlers are getting ready to do a new activity,
they look to their parents for permission. The expression on their parents’
faces speaks volumes as to what would happen if the child did the activity in
question. An “oh how cute look” meant carte blanche to proceed. If the “death
stare” was thrown the child knew proceeding would have some negative reactions.
It’s then that the child decides if the task at hand is worth the risk.
Many actors, like toddlers, seek permission from the people
behind the table to take a risk and immerse themselves in the world of the show. How? By
asking the perennial question: What are they looking for?
Of course they’re looking for talent. But what else?
Well...
They’re looking for a name.
They’re looking for credits.
They’re looking for a voice type.
They’re looking for a body type.
They’re looking for a hair or skin color.
They’re looking for someone who speaks the same theatrical language
as they do. (More on this in another blog).
They’re looking for pleasant personalities.
They’re looking for compatibility, both between the actor
and themselves and the other potential actors.
They’re looking for someone who fits their vision of the
play.
...or just someone who fits the costume.
An actor who hits all the important points for the
production team will get hired.
What happens to those who miss the major points? The ones
who don’t have celebrity? Or credits? Or the body type de jour? They try to
figure out any of the other one thousand and one things that may be on the list
of criteria. Then they try to give it to the people behind the table. And guess
what happens...
Nothing.
You can change different aspects of yourself, like the color
of your hair, for a role. Do it for every audition you attend and soon you
won’t have any hair at all. You can choose to wear different outfits to
auditions but that doesn’t change your actual clothing size. As for celebrity,
either you got it or you aint. There is no in-between. And so on. The more an
actor tries to become “what they’re looking for” the more likely he or she
won’t be. From the vantage point of behind the table, no matter what an actor
“puts on”, their inner truth can be seen for miles.
There is one thing the people behind the table are always
looking for though. It’s one of the things they desire most of all. It’s also something
they don’t often get: They want you. They want that inner truth. The people behind the table want
you in the right here and the right now as you are. They want you to be present. Like
vampires they crave a fully realized living breathing adult human being, one
who is capable of making informed decisions with a willingness to make
wonderful mistakes.
They don’t want anything less. And they certainly don’t want
you trying to give them what it is you think
they want.
Preparation for this type of presence starts at least a
block away from the audition site.
Clear your head of everything that is happening in your
life: the commute, the argument you had with your boyfriend about cereal, the
fact that the dry cleaners lost your favorite pair of pants. Everything. That
stuff only matters if you happen to be a method actor and are performing a
piece where the character in question has gone through those very same things. Outside
of that LET IT ALL GO. It serves you no purpose but distraction. It takes you
out of being present in the audition room.
Most importantly clear any thoughts of what you think the people behind the table are looking for.
Chances are the audition is taking place in one of the many
rehearsal studios around the city. As you entire the audition building, it’s
time for full on game face. Anyone you come in contact with could very well be
one of the people behind the table at the audition. Or they could be behind
another table next month or next year.
You walk into an elevator to get to an audition space and
notice a man wearing a puce green sweater. Going up you talk to a friend about
not wanting to be there and how this audition is a waste of your time because
no one who matters will be behind the table, etc etc etc. You know what I’m
talking about. You’ve done it. Hell I’ve done it.
At the audition your name is finally called. You walk into
the room and behind the table is a man in a puce green sweater. It’s the same
man from the elevator! Unless you’re Audra McDonald toting your five Tony
awards around auditioning for the lead in the newest Broadway musical, you are not getting hired. No matter how brilliant
your audition is, that job is going to someone else. We are all expendable and
there is always someone else who fits the costume. There is always someone who
didn’t bad talk the audition, or the accompanist, or the reader or the people
behind the table. There is always someone who wants to be there. Make sure it’s
you.
The best rule of thumb is to smile, be polite and friendly
to everyone, even the doorman and the monitors of the audition. There are
several regional theatres and theatre companies that use their own monitors. These
monitors are on the lookout for the back stage bad seed. They report holding
room shenanigans to the people behind the table. An actor throwing attitude in
the waiting room isn’t getting hired, unless his or her name is going above the
show title.
This isn’t to say leave your personality a block away out on
the street. Show the people behind the table, the monitors and everyone in the
building the part of your personality your grandma likes. Leave the histrionics
for the monologue and the aria.
Everyone has his or her own ritual for preparation while
waiting on line to go into the audition room. The only thing to note is that
one man’s prep could be another man’s disturbance. Be respectful. The new
audition rooms at Actors Equity take this into account. There are now safety
zones, hallways for the one actor who is on deck (next in line to audition).
The next crucial moment is when you’re about to walk into
the actual audition room.
Let the door completely close before you enter. This is your
time. No matter how rushed the person is before you, no matter how far behind
the audition is, no matter how late you are for your catering job, breathe.
Finish doing whatever you need to do in order to get your head in the right
frame of mind to do your best work. Smile. Put your hand on the knob, turn and make
an entrance...
Upon entering, try to make eye contact with the people
behind the table. That is to say look at the people as you walk in. Chances are
they will attempt to acknowledge you. Great. If they don’t, keep it moving. There
are very few times you should shake hands with the people in the room. If they
offer first then it’s a must. If you have a working relationship with them,
then you’ll know whether to extend a hand or not. I’ve entered audition rooms
and gotten hugged...not something you should ever initiate or expect.
But it did give me the warm fuzzies.
For a straight play stand and pleasantly wait for their full
attention. At this point you have to be able to join the people behind the
table on how they’re running their audition. Perhaps they’ll ask you what piece
you’re doing. Perhaps they’ll wait for you to start. Or even still, if sides
are involved, they may introduce you to the reader, or ask if there are any
questions about the piece you’ll be reading from. Roll with it until it’s time
to perform.
For a musical go directly to the piano. Say hello to the
pianist, but don’t force the issue of pleasantries. Chances are he or she is
fried from sight reading all day. Let them know what you’re singing and set the
tempo. Return to the center of the room. Again at this point join in on how the
people behind the table are running things. They may ask you what you’re
singing. They may not. Just be prepared.
In both instances, all of this is done calmly, with focus
and energy.
Present your finished product.
Then breathe. Give the people behind the table a moment to
absorb what was just done. More importantly give them a moment to ask you to do
something else, make adjustments or to call you back. At this point be prepared
to have a conversation. Perhaps something on your resume’s caught their eye, like
a colleague’s name. Perhaps they want more information. Or perhaps they want to
see if you're a fully realized living breathing adult human being capable of conversation. When
they’ve made their decision about whether to purchase your product they’ll let
you know, most often with a “Thanks for coming in today”.
Return their thanks with thanks and a smile. Gather your
things and calmly but energetically exit the room. Hold on to that smile and
energy, but don’t force it. Outside gather all of your things and exit the
space entirely. Avoid commenting on how you think you did and or asking others
how they did. These opinions just don’t matter. The only thing that does matter
in the end is whether the people behind the table will be offering you a job
either for this show or another down the line. Something you have no control
over or say in.
If the people behind the table want to work with you, that’s
great. You’ve done your job in its entirety. You’ve showcased your product. If
they don’t like you, or what you do, screw ‘em. You’ve done your job in its
entirety. You’ve showcased your product. Either way let it go. Remember it’s
all subjective based on the people behind the table’s opinions and life
experiences. An actor cannot compensate or adjust for that anymore than he or
she can know all the qualities needed to land the job.
The people behind the table don’t want you to ask
permission. They don’t want to be asked (literally or figuratively) “what are
you looking for”, in terms of character, style, or presentation or any of it. They
don’t want to hold your hand through the process. They want you to come in and
do your best. They want you to live and breathe in the moment. The people
behind the table want you to have already made an informed decision, taken a
position on the material at hand, and present it to them as such. They want to
see what choices you make, how the
material comes across through your
interpretation, how you infuse it with your
personality. As an actor seeking work that’s all you can do. Knowing and accepting
this is the difference between being a toddler asking “mother may I” and being
an adult offering your services in collaboration on a project.
The world of the play is created. The toddlers are
introduced into the microcosm and taught their role in that world. The hope is
that one day (opening night) the children (the actors) will grow up and live on
their own in that world (the play/musical) using all the lessons (rehearsals)
they’ve been taught by their parents (the creative team).
In Show Business there are levels of maturity. We as
performers progress from adult to toddler to adult again with each and every
project...or we get locked into one phase of the process stunting our work
potential. It’s a constant cycle of growing up.
Growing up means not asking permission to take a risk. Growing
up means not being concerned with “what are they looking for”. Growing up means
living and breathing and existing as a fully realized human being flaws and
all. But most importantly growing up means realizing that no matter where you
are on your journey of growth, whether you’re a toddler, adult or a ‘tween, you
will always be someone’s child. There will always be someone with a lesson for
you to learn and a world for you to explore.
Growing up as a professional means being true to youself and having that self show up at auditions positive, prepared and ready for the possibility of work. That’s all the people behind the table really want. So give it to them. That's how you'll get work. After all...
...when you’re good to mama, mama’s good to you.
