An increasingly annual event, I can announce that our hometown Park Players will be producing two new plays in summer 2010.  Last time around, it was Taming of the Shrew and The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged).  This time, it’ll be the Bard’s Much Ado about Nothing and Michael Frayn’s Noises Off.

You probably didn’t notice (I wouldn’t have), but the auditions just ended.  In late January.  That’s right – for plays that’ll be performed in May and July.  As usual, the process is SO much larger and more involved than most of us realize.  When you see a show, it’s the endpoint of bunches of work.  And I eventually want to write about every facet, so I managed to beg my way into the auditions.

If you aren’t involved and don’t already know (I didn’t), it was a two-step process.  An initial 3-hour open, walk-in audition and then – the next weekend – a couple of hours for callbacks.  Both times had the actors reading out of the script and hamming it up.

I haven’t auditioned for a play since high school, so I can’t begin to hold myself out as any sort of expert.  But I’ve had my share of job interviews and first (and second) dates, which may be eerily similar as potentially awkward transactions.  I can say it’s more fun watching than participating – but that’s one reason why I’m not an actor.  And, directly out of my notes, that’s just my first fly-on-the-wall observation.  Here are twenty more:

1. Just like American Idol, it can be captivating to watch people trying hard to do something they really want to do.  Some succeed beautifully, but there are many levels of tension and drama every step of the way.  For many reasons, I’d pay to watch auditions.
2. Even though I was pretty sure it wouldn’t happen, I was this close to the cold shakes even with a passing thought that someone might say, “Why don’t you just jump up and read so-and-so?”  Auditions tap directly into the “sweaty jitters” part of my brain.
3. It’s amazing that theatre works at all.  The first day started out calm and unhurried, but ended with a fuller house than was expected and the last few people auditioning outside in the brisk, windy courtyard.  Strangely enough, it all turns out well.  It’s a mystery.
4. “Sex farce” is a funny phrase in any context.
5. Just like any other field, it’s fun to see the who-knows-who interactions.  If I casted shows regularly, I’m not sure whether I’d be more pleased to cast an actor whose talents I knew and liked or an unexpected newcomer that impressed me.  My guess is that the new people stress out about not knowing anybody and the experienced actors stress about becoming too familiar.
6. It’s probably just me, but I think I’d be embarrassed if I came to an audition and the director asked me if I knew what was going on in the play, but I had to admit that I hadn’t read it and had no idea what the play I was auditioning for was about.  Maybe I’m entirely too Type A.
7. Two different actors, one right after the other, reading the same lines, can sound very different, even if one isn’t any objectively “better” than the other.
8. I would feel completely self-conscious if I was asked to put on an English accent in front of a real, honest-to-God English person.
9. For most of the auditions, I think I could keep my eyes closed and have a pretty good sense about whether the person reading is someone I’d want to cast.  Which leads me to believe – contrary to what I would have told you beforehand – that good acting is more ears and less eyes.  Your voice is distinctive and full of information.  I’d love to hear a dancer’s take on this.
10. I think I’d have a videocamera running in the back of the room during casting, even if for the simple reason that the process might otherwise be a complete blur.  I’m a horrid multi-tasker and I don’t think I could keep up with everyone in my head.  Plus, if someone does something great, I wouldn’t want to forget who did it and what it was.
11. When you’re blendering 50+ different actors up on stage to read a bunch of lines, you inadvertently get some strange and hilarious groups.  Guys play girls.  Girls play guys.  Two people accidentally get up for the same role.  It’s almost like that kids’ game, Concentration.  Flip two tiles over and see if they match up.
12. Some people are flat-out, inherently funny.  And having just one complete ham can loosen everybody else up.
13. Watching this process made me wonder what it is that I might want so badly that I’d spend so much time doing so much work for so little pay.
14. Pacing is contagious.  If someone starts a scene really quickly, it’s very likely that the other actors will follow.  Two sub-observations: First, I think this happens in the real world, too, as mirroring behavior.  Second, because it’s such a natural thing, it takes a lot of will for an individual to vary from a group’s pace, but the result is often unexpected and hilarious.  God bless those that can underplay.
15. Even if some lines might best be read by making a character vulnerable or uncomfortable – or with the addition of an uncomfortable pause – it’s probably not something you’d do in an audition, because you wouldn’t want to look like it’s you that’s uncomfortable and not your character.  Does this hold true for performances?
16. It’s a special skill to be able to act the same way twice.  Even if I nailed anything the first time, there’s always some part of my brain that would want to tweak it.  I’m pretty sure that every time in my life I’ve gotten something powerfully right, it’s been an unrepeatable mistake.
17. A big chunk of acting lies in paying close attention.
18. This doesn’t happen when I see performances, but during auditions I couldn’t help but think, “Who is this person?  What’s his real job when he’s not being silly on stage?”  Especially if he’s reading Shakespeare in a silly T-shirt.
19. It must be very difficult to stand still on a stage with your face and both feet pointing straight towards the audience.
20. Although the whole room typically knows when someone nails it, most other times I’d have very little idea who to pick.  Which means – if you flip it around for the actors – it’s not always you.  It’s just that there was someone else somewhat righter for that director.  I think I could keep my grading pretty simple: 1) Do you have an appropriately strong voice? 2) Are you charismatic and likable? 3) Do you fit?

Thanks again to Clay Boyce and Hannah Wilkerson for letting me sit in.  I’m looking forward to seeing the shows.  Everyone should notice again that if you’re under 16 – or know someone that is – tickets to the show can be F-R-E-E.  Spread the word.

picture: Lou Dina

“You’ve got to have a few bad habits to rely on when things with women go wrong.” -Bus Stop

That kind of statement drives character.  What do we know about a person who would say that?  Probably a man – not a kid.  Someone with some real-world experience, likely some heartbreak, and some bad habits.  Maybe a person who’s not on the right side of the moral fence all the time.  Not a sunny-eyed optimist.

When a writer builds a character, every word in a script offers another “dot” for an actor or director to try and connect.  Some scripts are really “tight” – maybe like David Auburn’s Proof – and the words themselves offer a fully fleshed-out character for the action and the performance.  Although I haven’t read Bus Stop, some scripts seem looser and more open to interpretation.  As a parallel, songs work the same way.  Some you’ve got to sing exactly like the original, but there is music – Brown Eyed Girl comes to mind (“Hey there, Rodrigo”) – that offers worlds of “space” for improvisation and play.

Since I mentioned improvisation, I recently saw the Extemporaneous Theatre Company’s To Mock a Killing Bird show.  (If you don’t know, that’s our local improv troupe, and I highly recommend them.)  For shows like that one – an improvised murder mystery – each of the performers sketches out a character and sticks to it throughout the show.  In every show, we get to watch these personas get developed on stage, right before our eyes.  Some bloom into full-blown (and very funny) people, but occasionally, promising characters drift into difficult and unfunny dead-ends.  Much like off-stage life, you can get boxed in by your own decisions in certain circumstances.

Non-improvised characters can too.  Add the right touches and everyone gets rewarded with that satisfying feeling of watching the ball sail off the bat.  Miss ‘em, and you’ll just get a thunk – and another 6-3 groundout.

The Birmingham Festival Theatre’s version of Bus Stop, written by William Inge, sails off the bat.  It’s probably the best and most entertaining performance I’ve seen at the Birmingham Festival Theatre.  The play is almost like Gilligan’s Island – people from all walks of life who get stranded for one night in a bus stop diner.  There’s a Professor, a Ginger, a Maryann, a Sheriff-Skipper, and some Cowboys.  They interact in funny, romantic, and occasionally moving ways.  There’s a fistfight and some kissing.  But no cheese…

Directed by Ward Haarbauer, the dots get connected in such a way that it works.  The juiciest parts probably go to actors Tavi Juarez, Holly Croney Dikeman, Gordon Pate, and Ron Bourdages.  Juarez represents a dowdied-up “Maryann”-type waitress, but, brimming with youthful enthusiasm, she’s hard not to watch.  I think the film version was famous for casting the almost unfollowable Marilyn Monroe as Cherie, but Dikeman’s got her own chirpity charisma and big, blue-shadowed eyes.  The most intriguing subplot is between Pate, the “Professor”, and the underage waitress, and I think those dots could’ve been connected in a hundred different ways, from creep-out to sugary-sweet.  Finally, Bourdages plays Virgil Blessing (good name!) and his contribution greatly exceeds his lines – plus, he plays guitar onstage and wrote a song for the performance.

Once again, thanks to the Birmingham Festival Theatre for admitting me and letting me write a piece about this well-acted show.  “I’ve always exercised excellent taste, if not the best judgment.”