Be Yourself

Some of the best advice I can think of for actors is, ironically, to be yourself. Sure, you'll need to pretend to be all those other people, too, but first just try being you. I say this because it's been my saving grace as I've learned the ropes of auditioning. In fact, this is good advice in any profession.

I should preface this by saying that I'm terrible at auditions. Nothing makes less sense to me than making an actor act alone, as in monologue auditions. And, in cold readings, one is forced to make choices that make no sense unless the actor has had the rare benefit of reading the whole road map of the script ahead of time. Thus, as a dedicated, analytical actor, I suck at auditions.

On the other hand, I've been cast in a lot of stuff recently. I think it has to do with my winning combination of confidence, adaptability, and apathy. Ya, after dozens of crappy auditions I just kind of gave up. I got tired of buying into the game and decided I didn't care anymore. It may seem obvious but I can't control my audience and I can't predict what casting directors want. Actors: you can't live up to unknown expectations so don't bother; in the end, it's all a bit of a crap shoot.

Yesterday, I auditioned for the Colorado Shakespeare Festival. Again. Yes, every year there are probably 150 women, both equity and non-equity, vying for four roles with one of the only professional gigs in town. The odds, suffice it to say, aren't terrific.

I've auditioned for them the two years prior, too, making this my third year running. I'm beyond nervousness (cue the apathy), but I still went through the motions of selecting the 'right' clothes, running through my lines, second guessing my technique and wondering if a slight heel would be to my advantage (oooh, look how much better my legs look in these pants!) or disadvantage (hm... maybe I will look taller than their idea of a Juliet). In the end, of course, I threw it all out the window anyway.

I wore something professional but that I was comfortable wearing. I read a book instead of obsessing over lines I've known for years anyway. I gave in to my training and instincts and remembered that it is never, NEVER, a good idea to change anything at the last minute. And, I wore my heels.

I went in to the theatre just before noon. Karyn Casl, the casting director, introduced herself and then Phil Sneed, the artistic director, poked his head around and gave me a bit of a perplexed once-over.

"You look familiar. Have you auditioned for us before?"

Well, if I was nervous before, I definitely wasn't now. Instead of making me feel self-consious in a good way, I was just embarassed. Why, oh why does Phil Sneed remember me?

It felt a little tragic as I ambled up to the stage. The artistic director of the CSF remembers me from last year? You mean the last year when I was running late, couldn't find the building, left my headshot & resume at home? Please, no.

I performed admirably and thanked them both.

On my way home, I wondered about the pitfalls of being memorable. Naturally, George W came to mind. "Fool me once..."
And then Janet Jackson's boob.
And then the movie version of 'Mamma Mia'...

Was I so terrible last year that they can't forget me? Or maybe it wasn't my performance, per se, but my total lack of togetherness last year? Did I make him relive awful memories of watching me butcher Shakespeare?

Or, was I so great that I lingered in his mind? Did he wish last year that he could have cast me, but something went awry and now he's thrilled to see me again? Maybe my performance was stupendous but their four female roles were filled by returning actresses last year and so he kept me in mind?

After a bit of disconcerted stewing over what it all meant, I hastily returned to apathy--the safer bet. I spent an afternoon in the backyard doing homework and sunning myself in the unseasonably warm January weather. Later I went to work at the Dairy Center.

After the show, I chatted with our masterful techie. He asked me what was new and I relayed my story of the CSF audition replete with angst.

"Well, maybe he remembered you from when you worked 3rd Law Dance a few months ago. He was here for that whole run."

Hm. He was. And I had forgotten completely. I worked with Phil Sneed via the Dairy Center--duh.

So, it may be that Phil Sneed remembers me from last year's CSF audition when I could have been amazing or terrible. Or I might simply seem familiar to him because we worked together at the Dairy for a weekend. I'll never really know which one it is, just like I can't predict whether I should wear heels or not.
To guess and then second guess the meaning of every question or to try and gauge the 'right' way to be is too much work.

All I can do is be who I am, whether they think I'm amazing or terrible, and keep on plodding through. And the apathy helps, too.