Wah-Wahhhh

(That’s the “you lose!” sound, not the sound of me crying.)

No callback.

I know, I know, I’m going to have to get used to rejection, take my medicine, it’s good for me blah blah but it still BLOWS THE BIG ONE.  It’s possible that I may have been a little high on my horse – riding high on all my good feedback, my Zoni nomination – so high that I forgot I only have two credits on my resume.  That’s not terribly impressive to a director.  And maybe I just didn’t audition very well, I don’t know.  I’m sure I could use a lot more practice.

I just hope this rejection doesn’t portend a coming trend.

Getting in the car right after I got the “sorry, sucka” email, I decided to tell Moo the news, because I think it’s good for her to see that we all have to deal with disappointments and frustrations:

Mama:  “I’m a little sad, Moo.  I found out I’m not going to be in that doggie show.”

Moo:  “Your audition, Mommy?”

Mama:  “Yep, everybody auditioned, and they decided they didn’t want me to be in the show.”

Moo:  “Ohhhh, Mommy.”

Mama:  “It’s okay!  I’ll be in another show.  It’s somebody else’s turn this time.”

Moo:  “Maybe a real doggy, Mommy!”

Damn.  I should have gone full-dog.

No News is Good News

…Right?

Haven’t heard anything yet, but there was a second round of auditions Tuesday night, so I would guess the director wouldn’t let people know until Wednesday – actually, she said Wednesday afternoon at the latest.  And for a nice change, she contacts everybody by email, telling them yay or nay.  That’s nice!  I much prefer obsessively checking my email over constant silence from my taunting phone.

Between visits to my in-box, I spent possibly the most awesome afternoon of my life watching Michael Jackson videos with the choreographer of  “Mary Poppins.”  Even that sentence is awesome.  I visited my former director Mary because she was gifting me a copy of “Mary Poppins” (after I told her that Moo loves the music and we don’t have a copy).  Her house is plastered with pictures of the amazings things she’s done and people she’s met – she was even on the cover of Life Magazine!  (That one hangs in the bathroom – hee!)  There was also a picture of the 1993 Superbowl halftime show with Michael Jackson, which she choreographed.  !!!!!  Oh, I love this woman.  So we started talking about Michael Jackson, and then there we were on her couch watching Beat It, Thriller, Bad, and even the unedited version of Black and White.  But she saved the best for last – a performance from the 1993 American Music Awards which I’d never seen before.  We watched it three times. 

 

Seems like performers these days cram every damn thing into their live shows – circus acts, giant blow-up clown puppets, gymnastic equipment – but maybe all you really need is talent like that, choreography like that, and some cool lighting.  I think I’m just going to keep watching that until my email arrives.

*P.S. – If you can dance like that, I don’t give a shit if you lip-synch.

#4 – Sylvia, Tempe Little Theatre

Well – dare I say, that almost went…rather smoothly?

Sure, the stomach cramps appeared about 40 minutes before I had to leave, but Moo gave me three magic marbles for good luck, which she insisted I put in my pocket.  And I think those little good-luck marbles did the trick, because once I got in the car, I felt nervous, sure, but not where’s-the-barf-bag nervous.

Improvement!

I mean, yes, I think my hands were visibly shaking during the audition (which consisted of pairing up with fellow-auditionees to read scenes from the script), but I don’t think my acting was bad.  Maybe it wasn’t good, but I don’t think anyone was shaking their head at me pityingly.  I hope.

And after all that worry, no improv!  (Even though I studied doggy videos on YouTube all afternoon!)  Maybe the director is saving it for the callbacks.

I have no idea if I’ll get called back or not.  The director said she doesn’t usually call back more than three people per role, and even though there were only three other women auditioning for the “Sylvia” role, there will probably be many more at tonight’s auditions.  I prefer to go on the first night and just get it over with.

It was interesting to see the different approaches we auditionees took to interpreting Sylvia the dog.  One woman went full-dog, with her hair in poodly pigtails, even growling and whimpering.  Two others went, I’d say, about half-dog, and then I was probably about one-third dog.  What’s the director looking for?  Full-dog, half-dog, who knows?  What height, what color hair?  (We all wore our hair curly, of course – Sylvia is a poodle mix).  But it seemed clearer to me than ever before that at auditions, the director has something specific in mind - a look, a personality, a hairstyle – and I either fit what she’s looking for or I don’t.  Nuthin’ personal.

I felt so relatively normal afterwards that I didn’t even have to stop on the way home for a doughnut!

Although I kind of wish I had…

Up Yours With a 10-Foot Pole, Doggy!

So is it ironic or just plain sucky that on the day I’m auditioning for the role of a dog, I have NEVER HATED DOGS MORE IN MY LIFE.

I’m nervous.  I’m entering psycho-freakout stage.  But I know that once I get Moo into bed for her nap, I can prepare, re-read the play, and do what I need to calm my nerves.  Moo totally cooperates with this plan, falling asleep wham-bam on the way home from the grocery store.

But then - BUT THEN – as I’m scooping her out of the car (we have a carport), the dog next door starts frrrrrrrEAKing out.  I try to unbuckle Moo more quickly, but it’s no use – she’s awake.  The stupid dog continues to yell at us as I quietly sing to Moo and rub her back, and I want to KILL. THAT DOG.  I really, honestly do.  I even looked around for a rock to throw at it.  WHY DO WE NOT HAVE ANY LARGE ROCKS IN OUR YARD?  Maybe that’s a good thing.  I couldn’t even yell at it, because I was still hoping that Moo would fall back asleep.  So I just had to settle for flipping it off.  He looked confused for a second, and continued barking, even louder. 

And may I just point out, that this dog has lived next door to us for over a year?  We live here!  GET USED TO IT, you stupid smelly ugly dog. 

So now Moo is not-sleeping in her bed, I am furious AND freaked out, AND I hate the animal I am auditioning to portray, and there is no hope.

No hope, no hope.

TO THE DEVIL WITH YOU, DOG!

Cold Sweats

Oh shit.  Audition tonight.

I started out the morning feeling cool, figuring I’m getting better at this audition thing, because usually first thing in the morning on an audition day I have stomach cramps.  But now it’s after noon and I’m entering the catatonic fear-freeze stage, having skipped over the stomach cramps (although I’m sure they’ll turn up sooner or later).  This is where I wander around the house, sweaty and shivery, half aware of Moo playing happily in the corner. 

If she asks me to play with her I don’t know what I’ll do.  I am certainly not capable of playing “Dinosaur Train” at the moment.

Surely I am going to spontaneously combust at any moment.

I know, I’ll print out my new resumes (edited to add that nifty Zoni nomination!).  But I still haven’t thought of anything to put under “special skills.”  I can’t do accents.  Well, unless you count vaguely southern “Dinosaur Train” conductors.

Why why why does there have to be IMPROV??

Eeeeeeeeeuuuuuuuuuaaaack!

Thud.

Feeling Fluish?

I completely convinced myself that I had the stomach flu on Monday, the day of the callback audition.  I had no idea that I had such power over my own stomach.  The day started out fine – nerves, of course – but there was nothing I could prepare for the audition, so all I could do was play with Moo and wait for 7:30 p.m.

As that time grew closer, my stomach started turning cartwheels.  A volcano began to rumble inside my small intestine.  I got dizzy and shivery.  Moo and I ended up spending most of the afternoon in the bathroom, and I kept warning her – “Mommy might throw up in the toilet, sweetie, but it will be okay.”

Finally, Herbie got home, and I clung to him, moaning.  “I know you probably think it’s just nerves,” I said, “And I wish it was, but I really think I have the flu.”

Herbie felt my forehead.  “Am I hot?”

“Maybe…” he said.  I could tell he wasn’t convinced.  I didn’t know if I wanted him to believe me or not.  If he could convince me it was just in my head, maybe it would just vanish and I wouldn’t have to worry about passing out or throwing up at the callback.  But at the same time, I didn’t want him to think I was crazy – plus, I wanted him to feel sorry for me.

The nausea increased.  “I have to lay down,” I said.  Herbie’s brow furrowed.  I wasn’t trying to get out of going to the callback.  I desperately wanted this ickiness to go away so I could do my best, but I just knew that I had picked up a big bad virus and might not be able to make it through the audition.

Somehow I managed to get dressed and curl my hair.  I kissed Moo and Herbie goodbye, clutching my stomach.

“You can do this,” Herbie assured me. 

“Oookay…” I whimpered.

I sang all the way to the audition while my stomach continued to flip-flop dangerously.  Finally, I pulled into the parking lot.  A friend of mine greeted me while I climbed out of the car, trying to shake off the feverish shivers.  We walked toward the building, I opened the door,and -

It went away.  Poof!  I felt perfectly fine.

I am, in fact, a crazy person!

What’s Your Secret? Just Lucky I Guess

I GOT IT!!!!!!!!!!!

Pant, pant, pant, pant.

I got the call as I was driving home.  Actually, I think I may have gotten the call as I was exiting the parking lot!  I was loitering outside for a while, chatting away, and when we noticed one of the auditioners come outside and open his phone, we realized it was time to skedaddle.  A few moments later, I had a voicemail.  Success! 

Yes, I cried a little.

So it’s official! I’m “Woman #3″ in “The World Goes ‘Round.”  It’s a very small show, just five actors singing the songs of Kander and Ebb, and people – I have a solo!  I think more than one!  Holy shit!

So yes, I’d say callbacks went pretty well.  We were a fairly small group, and everyone seemed very nice.  First we danced, led by – let’s call the director Mary after “Mary Poppins,” since she choreographed the movie.  I think I love her.  She led us through some simple steps, directing me to “do it like a singer, not a dancer.”  Then the music director, Fawna, put us in groups and had us sing three part harmonies, which was rather torturous, but I think we all felt that way.  Finally she had each of us sing a song from the show.  On the drive out, I sang along to the soundtrack, and there was only one song, “How Lucky Can You Get,” that I thought – oh jeez, I hope they don’t ask me to sing this song.

So of course, that’s the song I had to sing.  It’s an incredible song – made famous by Barbra Streisand in “Funny Lady” (thank God I didn’t remember that before the audition) – fun to act, and even more fun to sing if you can belt that one high note near the end (“What’s your secreeeeeet?”) - which I cannot.  But I did my best.

And I guess that was good enough!

So incredibly, I’m two for three.  (Never heard from the Sweeney Todd folks.)  How did I get here?  I’m so happy – and yet I can’t help think about all those years, those many, many years, when I was too afraid to audition.  How could such a silly fear have such a huge hold on my life?  What could I have accomplished?  I don’t want anything to change about my life – my Herbie, my Moo – and yet I can’t help but wonder what might have been… what if I could have found success on Broadway, and still somehow met Herbie and had Moo?  What if?

But whatever might have been, is not.  I have my family, I am so very lucky, and for the first time in such a very long time, I feel proud of myself.

Dress for Movement

As per my experts’ advice, I called back my callback, who told me, yup, come dressed for movement.

What does that mean, anyway?

Well, it definitely means that I cannot, as Kate recommended, arrive wearing what I wore yesterday, because I cannot even sit in those jeans, let alone move in a dancelike manner.  I had to unbutton them just to drive there, and then of course I forgot that my jeans were unbuttoned until I was almost to the door and had to duck behind a palm tree to button up.

So what to wear?

I only have two pairs of jeans – very uncomfortable, can’t-sit-down jeans, and very comfortable jeans that stretch out after 20 minutes and make me look like I have a saggy bottom, or like I pooped in my pants. 

But I don’t think I’m supposed to come decked out for dance, am I?  AM I?  I don’t really have any cute dance clothes, anyway.  I think it’s going to have to be the poopy pants jeans.

Complicating matters even further, I REALLY WANT TO BE IN THIS SHOW.  “The World Goes ‘Round” – I have the whole soundtrack now, and I love every single song so much (except for “Cabaret,” which sounds like a cover by Manhattan Transfer).  I NEED to sing these songs.  Ohhhh I want it so badly.  And I’m dying to work with this director – I know I could learn so much from her.  I mean, remember that scene in “The Sound of Music” when Liesl goes leaping from bench to bench in the gazebo while it’s pouring rain outside?  I remember watching that movie as a little girl, watching Liesl leap high into the air again and again, and thinking, “I want to learn how to do THAT.”  And the choreographer of that moment is directing the show!  Oh, oh, oh. 

I want it too much.  I know I do.  It will hurt if (when?) I’m rejected.  But I guess it’s like the song goes - ”One day it’s kicks, then it’s kicks in the shins – but the planet spins, and the world goes ’round and ’round and ’round and ’round and ’round and ’round… ”

#3 – Sweeney Todd, Theater Works

So what was the first thing I saw when I walked into the Peoria Center for the Arts?  The General, and dear old Fred!  I guess Phoenix really does have a tiny theatre community.  The General would be a marvelous Sweeney Todd (Bennnjamin Bah-kah!), I hope he gets the role.  He’s about 8 feet tall and juuuuust a tad menacing when he smirks, not like he’d murder you on purpose, but maybe he’d consider it if he was distracted by big heaps of rage and thinks you might make a good pie.

Anyway.  It was lovely to see them both, and even lovelier to go into an audition terrified and then realize that you’re a member of the local theatre community – I belong! (I fear I will always, always, be trying to belong and never really believing it even when I do…damn you, snotty high school cliques.)

Fred and I chatted nervously for a while and then it was my turn.  Waiting while another lad finished singing, I suddenly realized that this audition was going to be the complete opposite of this one.  My Desert Foothills audition was like going to lunch with your way-cool aunt and singing some diddies over a coupla mojitos.  My Theater Works audition was like dinner at the Royal Palms with your rich grandmama who won’t look you in the eye.

So I walked out on the stage and was immediately greeted by the music director.  I introduced myself, shook hands – and noticed there was a woman, the director, sitting out in the audience.  She didn’t acknowledge me – was I supposed to say hello?  The music director seemed to be really running the audition, and then after I gave him my music and clip-clopped to center stage, I couldn’t figure out whether I should face him (does she want me to pretend she’s invisible?) or face her.  So I kinda split the difference and angled myself in between their lines of sight.

I think it was all a big test.  I think I was supposed to trot out on stage and immediately say, “Hi! I’m Mama Rose!  You must be the director!  So happy to be here!  Wanna see my time step?  Shuffle off to buffalo? No?”

Oh, well, now I know.

So then my music began (different audition, different song) and praise Zeus it was in my key.  I think my voice sounded kinda pretty.  And I think I did a fair job of acting the song until the very last note when I realized I’d accidentally flipped my “off” switch and my eyes and face had just gone completely dead.  I may have fallen asleep for a second.  So with my very last breath I tried to add some “zowie!” to my face, and then the song ended.

They had me sing low, they had me sing high, and then the music director said, “Thanks for coming!”

So I thanked them and picked up my music, and on my way out I finally decided she couldn’t actually really believe she’s invisible, so I gave the director a big smile.  “Thanks a lot!” she called.  “Thank YOU!” I practically oinked at her.

And then it was over.

I didn’t really get the callback vibe from that audition.

But hey, I have three auditions under my belt.  Let’s take a look at the tally:  1996 – 2008:  Zero auditions.  2008 – 2009:  Three.

Not bad!  (Sure, I’m all cheerful now, but in 24 hours will I be crying at my keyboard and gripping my silent phone in distress?  Quite possibly, yes.  We shall see.)

#2 – The World Goes ‘Round, Desert Foothills Theater

Hey!  That actually went a little better than “I didn’t die!”

In fact, that audition may have actually gone pretty well!

I was a complete mess beforehand, pacing back and forth in the hall, tap dancing nervously – and then I remembered Kate Winslet – “Gather.”  So I mentally grabbed the fragments of my mind that were flying all out of control and reined them in.  I took a deep breath, and then they called my name.

As soon as I walked in the door to the audition room, I felt fine.  Sure, I still didn’t know if I was going to be able to hit the right notes, but I remembered something important as the director and musical director greeted me:  People are generally nice.  These folks are not setting me up for failure, and they really don’t want to laugh and point fingers at me.  They want me to do well.

So I handed over my headshot and resume (“Nice headshot!” said the director - Thanks Rosalind!) and gave my music to the pianist.  The director looked over my resume for a minute, commenting on AMDA and my numerous dance classes.  “Gather, gather, gather!”  I thought.  I decided not to include 15-year-old theatre credits on my resume.  Instead, I put a little sentence at the top about how I was giving this whole ding-darn theatre thang (no, that’s not what I wrote) another shot, and included just “Kiss Me Kate.”  The director skipped down to the “Special Skills” section on my resume and laughed out loud.  “Listen to her special skills,” she said.  “Dancing in high heels, staying far away from backstage drama, making my 2-year-old laugh, rocky road brownies.”  They all laughed.  Whew!  I thought maybe that was too cutesy, but I’ll take a laugh anyway I can get it.

Finally, I sang.  I was doing pretty well, and then the keyboard shorted out right before my big money notes.  They spent a few minutes fixing the keyboard, and then asked me to sing the song again.  Then they asked me to sing another song.  And then the director said she’d like to hear me sing yet another song.

“One from the show?” I said hopefully.  “I’m pretty familiar with ‘Cabaret,’ or ‘Colored Lights.’”

They picked “Colored Lights,” which thank God I had downloaded just yesterday and listened to over and over again.  It’s a lovely song and in the sweet spot for my voice – I think I sounded – well, not bad.

“So what else do you do?” asked the director.

“I’m a mom,” I said.  “And…I write.  And take dance classes whenever I can fit them in,” I answered.  Pretty boring.  I should have said something witty.  Or I should have gushed about how I would be so excited to work with her (this is the woman that choreographed the movie Mary Poppins!  The chimney sweeps, for God’s sake!!).  But I just smiled and felt like I was 12 years old, and she asked if I was available for callbacks tomorrow night.

“YES,” I said, dripping saliva.

And for a moment, I really thought she was going to tell me to come to callbacks right then.  But instead, she kicked me out, “So we can talk about you.”

Well.  Whew.

Unlike the last time I left an audition, I did not feel the immediate need to stuff my face with jelly donuts.

That’s got to be a big improvement, right?

Off to Audition #2!