Since that last audition I've had another four, including one I had the privilege of paying for.
It's called a self-test and it's for a small role as a board member in an ABC drama starring Guy Pearce. My agent wants it done professionally so I dutifully book myself in for a $60 session to film a three line audition, then it all gets moved forward and it's a mad scramble to find someone else who can do it at short notice. I don my suit and rush from a holiday rehearsal with my students all the way across town to a little joint in Footscray. I've only got $45 cash on me but luckily it doesn't take long so the guy's happy with that. Later, a message from my agent comes up on my phone. 'We got your audition upload and it's terri--' Terrible?! Oh crap. Then I read the whole message. 'it's terrific' Relief. But after all that I don't get the role. I try out for another TVC a week later but the dry spell continues.
Then I have two auditions in one week. First I am invited, via the Starnow casting website, to audition for a rare paid role: a mum in an online video for a retail store in the style of The Office.
So on Tuesday after work I jump in the car and head into Richmond. I have to do a short scene that I've learnt and also improvise some dialogue. It goes down well. In fact the guy is laughing so much the camera--read iPhone-- is shaking. A good sign. He says he'll let me know by Friday. There's no guarantee but I’m feeling so good I settle into peak hour traffic believing I’m gonna get both roles and I haven’t even done the second audition yet.
The next day I rush off to South Melbourne for another Neighbours audition. It's mid-morning but it's raining and it's like peak hour again. I am consequently a bit late and the lovely but no-nonsense casting agent rushes me into her little studio. There's a beanied, bearded man with a Scottish accent (I know I've seen him in something before) who turns out to be reading for me. He's doing three roles. Thankfully I'm only doing one. I have to look at him and then across to two other imaginary characters while he says their lines. I'm not exactly composed but I put my best professional foot forward and get a blank on a line in my first take. Second take goes well but the casting woman wants another. I unintentionally do a look in the wrong direction but she's happy (or maybe she just wants me out of there) so off I go. I accidentally drive over a traffic island up the street (put it down to poor visibility) but manage to arrive back at work on time and in one piece. Then it's back to my day job--rehearsing my Drama students for their performance the next evening.
Friday comes and I’m checking my phone all day. Nothing. I spend the weekend down in the dumps, wondering whether I should chuck it all in. By the end of Monday the last little remnants of hope have gone. Then on Tuesday after work I get an email to say I have the mum role after all. The client liked me the best. Me! My first credit for 2015. Now I don’t look like a total BLA (Big Loser Actor)!
But wait. There's more!
On Thursday there’s a missed call from my agent. I have given up on the Neighbours role by now. It's probably an audition for some lineless, lime-lightless, payless role. But the young woman on the phone tells me I’ve got the part! She waits for me to stop screaming like I’ve just won tattslotto then gives me some details that I hardly hear I am so delirious. I hang up and look around the staffroom eager to justify my joyous outburst to my colleagues but their bemused heads are down.
I don’t care.
The drought is over.
FOOTNOTE:
Yesterday I got a call from Neighbours to discuss wardrobe. An hour later I get a call from my agent to say they've cut my role.
I know life has its up and downs but lately I've had more downs than a Coles ad.
Showing posts with label audition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label audition. Show all posts
Saturday, October 31, 2015
Friday, August 28, 2015
Uneducation
You’d think by now I would have something new to tell you about my acting exploits. But no. The drought continues. Not the auditions. I’ve had quite a few. But the ‘You got the part!’ calls. They’ve been very scarce. Non-existent to be exact.
So for want of an embarrassing slash hilarious anecdote of my on-set shenanigans, I’ll tell you about my latest auditions.
I keep getting called up for mum roles. Most of them I’m too old for. Do I look like a primary school mum? No. Do I look like a mum of teenagers? Not when they usually cast twenty somethings. But I go along and give it my best. So far this year I’ve also auditioned for a supermarket shopping mum (again) and the mum of a hipster. Playing against type, I've tried out for a corporate manager and today I auditioned for a bit part as a radio show caller.
I memorise my line and practise it numerous times and ways, both at home and on the drive in. But the result of a quick initial read-through (how hard can one line be?) is that I've accidentally learnt a word wrong and can't get it out of my head.
When I arrive the waiting room is filled with men and I joke that I must be in the wrong place. I am such a card. Anyway, it breaks the ice which I always think is a good thing, except in this case it triggers one chap’s highly engaging monologue about trains, train-lines and the cost of parking.
Gradually the males are replaced by an interesting assortment of ladies.
‘It makes a nice change from competing with women who look like models,’ I remark.
To which one replies, ‘What are you trying to say?’
Oops.
A moment later I am summoned and realise I’m not very focussed. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so chatty. In the first take I say not one but three words wrong. In one sentence. It takes a few goes before I actually get the whole line right. Brilliant. It’s all over in a few minutes and I walk down the hall past the stunned faces of the other auditionees who have obviously heard my dismal execution (pun intended). Then I drive the 60 Ks home trying to figure out how I could have stuffed up so badly.
I said ‘guy’ instead of ‘bloke’ and ‘total narkisist’ instead of ‘textbook narkisist’, the last word being an intentional mispronunciation of ‘narcissist’.
‘It’s narkisist-sic,’ the casting guy corrected. ‘She’s supposed to be uneducated.’ So I did it like he said, wondering how I could have got that wrong too.
Funny thing is, I recheck the script later. It says: ‘narkisist. (sic)’
Ha.
Who’s the uneducated one now?
So I feel exactly one third less stupid than I did earlier. Not such a bad day after all.
So for want of an embarrassing slash hilarious anecdote of my on-set shenanigans, I’ll tell you about my latest auditions.
I keep getting called up for mum roles. Most of them I’m too old for. Do I look like a primary school mum? No. Do I look like a mum of teenagers? Not when they usually cast twenty somethings. But I go along and give it my best. So far this year I’ve also auditioned for a supermarket shopping mum (again) and the mum of a hipster. Playing against type, I've tried out for a corporate manager and today I auditioned for a bit part as a radio show caller.
I memorise my line and practise it numerous times and ways, both at home and on the drive in. But the result of a quick initial read-through (how hard can one line be?) is that I've accidentally learnt a word wrong and can't get it out of my head.
When I arrive the waiting room is filled with men and I joke that I must be in the wrong place. I am such a card. Anyway, it breaks the ice which I always think is a good thing, except in this case it triggers one chap’s highly engaging monologue about trains, train-lines and the cost of parking.
Gradually the males are replaced by an interesting assortment of ladies.
‘It makes a nice change from competing with women who look like models,’ I remark.
To which one replies, ‘What are you trying to say?’
Oops.
A moment later I am summoned and realise I’m not very focussed. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so chatty. In the first take I say not one but three words wrong. In one sentence. It takes a few goes before I actually get the whole line right. Brilliant. It’s all over in a few minutes and I walk down the hall past the stunned faces of the other auditionees who have obviously heard my dismal execution (pun intended). Then I drive the 60 Ks home trying to figure out how I could have stuffed up so badly.
I said ‘guy’ instead of ‘bloke’ and ‘total narkisist’ instead of ‘textbook narkisist’, the last word being an intentional mispronunciation of ‘narcissist’.
‘It’s narkisist-sic,’ the casting guy corrected. ‘She’s supposed to be uneducated.’ So I did it like he said, wondering how I could have got that wrong too.
Funny thing is, I recheck the script later. It says: ‘narkisist. (sic)’
Ha.
Who’s the uneducated one now?
So I feel exactly one third less stupid than I did earlier. Not such a bad day after all.
Friday, May 17, 2013
In the Neighbours Hood
I'm only with my new agent a couple of weeks when I get an audition for a popular TV soapie. She emails me the script and I set about practising my lines in the bathroom mirror in between teeth cleaning and face washing.
Two days later I’m at an audition in the suburban Melbourne studios. The building looks decidedly unglamorous but I know I'm in the right place when a Neighbours tour bus drives in through the boom gates and rolls slowly past the foyer, the occupants undoubtedly seeking a glimpse of a soapie star. Alas, tis only I.
The audition is over in a flash and I'm on my way home again, wishing I had said my lines differently. No need though, because a few days later my agent calls me to tell me I have the part!
First up is a wardrobe call. My man swans around me, saying he can ‘do magic’. He gives me a handbag and tells me to ‘own it’ then demonstrates how to carry it on my arm. I drink it all in because without question, he does it better than I do. In an effort to find an outfit suitable for my character, a ‘stylish and sophisticated semi retired naturopath with a penchant for diamonds', they bring me a skirt and some shoes that belong to the longest running female character in the show’s history!
On the shoot day I arrive early and after donning my ensemble, I’m taken to hair and make-up only to find the actress who plays the longest running female character in the show’s history having her hair done. I slink into the chair, hoping she doesn’t notice that I am wearing her clothes!
Back in the green room I act like I’m part of the furniture. Okay, maybe that’s not such a good idea as the couches have seen better days. But I almost manage to work the coffee machine (lukewarm's fine-really) and I mingle with the cast like I'm a regular and a couple of them even talk to me!
As I’m escorted by one of the ADs to the location next door I pass by some forlorn looking extras. I glance at them with sympathy. They gaze at me with envy. Ah, it does not seem that long ago that I was one of them. But now I am an actor in Australia's longest running TV soap.
With three lines.
I have made it.
PS
Seriously, though, it was a great experience. There wasn't any direction to speak of, apart from blocking but they clearly assume you know what you are doing (I sort of did!) and the crew was highly professional. Pretty impressive really when you consider how much pressure they are under to produce five episodes every week.
Anyway, I had fun and my episode screens 9th August! (UK 6th September) Yay!
Next up, an audition for a Coles ad!
Two days later I’m at an audition in the suburban Melbourne studios. The building looks decidedly unglamorous but I know I'm in the right place when a Neighbours tour bus drives in through the boom gates and rolls slowly past the foyer, the occupants undoubtedly seeking a glimpse of a soapie star. Alas, tis only I.
The audition is over in a flash and I'm on my way home again, wishing I had said my lines differently. No need though, because a few days later my agent calls me to tell me I have the part!
First up is a wardrobe call. My man swans around me, saying he can ‘do magic’. He gives me a handbag and tells me to ‘own it’ then demonstrates how to carry it on my arm. I drink it all in because without question, he does it better than I do. In an effort to find an outfit suitable for my character, a ‘stylish and sophisticated semi retired naturopath with a penchant for diamonds', they bring me a skirt and some shoes that belong to the longest running female character in the show’s history!
On the shoot day I arrive early and after donning my ensemble, I’m taken to hair and make-up only to find the actress who plays the longest running female character in the show’s history having her hair done. I slink into the chair, hoping she doesn’t notice that I am wearing her clothes!
Back in the green room I act like I’m part of the furniture. Okay, maybe that’s not such a good idea as the couches have seen better days. But I almost manage to work the coffee machine (lukewarm's fine-really) and I mingle with the cast like I'm a regular and a couple of them even talk to me!
As I’m escorted by one of the ADs to the location next door I pass by some forlorn looking extras. I glance at them with sympathy. They gaze at me with envy. Ah, it does not seem that long ago that I was one of them. But now I am an actor in Australia's longest running TV soap.
With three lines.
I have made it.
PS
Seriously, though, it was a great experience. There wasn't any direction to speak of, apart from blocking but they clearly assume you know what you are doing (I sort of did!) and the crew was highly professional. Pretty impressive really when you consider how much pressure they are under to produce five episodes every week.
Anyway, I had fun and my episode screens 9th August! (UK 6th September) Yay!
Next up, an audition for a Coles ad!
Saturday, April 7, 2012
3DME
March 2012
Yes, it's been a while. But don't blame me.
Despite my standout performance as a 'featured extra' in the CUB internet ad, which gave me wide exposure on TV during the footy one night (a friend actually recognised me! Fame at last!), it has been a long time between drinks.
Eight months after my last sip (a call-back for a weight loss product ad), I finally get another call from my agent and the next morning I'm at a casting agents' office, exclaiming 'Still down!' as part of a two minute audition for a supermarket commercial. I don't get the part. Obviously not ecstatic enough. I'll work on it.
I did play a small role in an independent feature film called Monster Pies late last year, though.
It's a non-speaking speaking role. I mean, I would talk if I could. I play a 'brain injured mum'. 'You'd be good at that,' says my daughter. My audition for the incommunicative mother of a gay young man, I mean, young gay man, takes place in the tiny kitchen of the director / writer / producer / make-up artist / costume designer / props person. (No, the crew aren't flatmates; it's all one person). Then it's a one day shoot in a nursing home in Altona which I actually really enjoy. It's dramatically challenging and I don't have to learn any lines!
Anyway, my new agent doesn't normally handle extra work (excuse me, but 'featured extra' work is a different thing altogether) so I've been missing it, to tell the truth. But she eventually informs me of a 'Go-See' for an ABC mini series about Kerry Packer. And cricket. My favourite game. Yep. (Am I un-Australian if I don't know the rules?) Anyway, I go along, hoping it's not a replay of that Phryne Fisher debacle. You remember. Two hours standing in line to do what could have been done online. I mean everything's there on the casting website: photos, measurements, biography. So I don't really see the point of going to a Go-See, see. Unless it's about seeing us all in 3D. (I hear it's the latest thing) Fortunately this is most efficiently run and a comparatively exhilerating experience. No queue. In and out in a matter of minutes. Lovely. The series is set in the 1970s (been there both in real life and on film) so I wear a skivvy and some beads and do the page boy thing with my hair. Can't hurt. If I was a man I would have stuck on some sidies. Now it's just a matter of waiting to see if the Go-See is a goer.
Yes, it's been a while. But don't blame me.
Despite my standout performance as a 'featured extra' in the CUB internet ad, which gave me wide exposure on TV during the footy one night (a friend actually recognised me! Fame at last!), it has been a long time between drinks.
Eight months after my last sip (a call-back for a weight loss product ad), I finally get another call from my agent and the next morning I'm at a casting agents' office, exclaiming 'Still down!' as part of a two minute audition for a supermarket commercial. I don't get the part. Obviously not ecstatic enough. I'll work on it.
I did play a small role in an independent feature film called Monster Pies late last year, though.
It's a non-speaking speaking role. I mean, I would talk if I could. I play a 'brain injured mum'. 'You'd be good at that,' says my daughter. My audition for the incommunicative mother of a gay young man, I mean, young gay man, takes place in the tiny kitchen of the director / writer / producer / make-up artist / costume designer / props person. (No, the crew aren't flatmates; it's all one person). Then it's a one day shoot in a nursing home in Altona which I actually really enjoy. It's dramatically challenging and I don't have to learn any lines!
Anyway, my new agent doesn't normally handle extra work (excuse me, but 'featured extra' work is a different thing altogether) so I've been missing it, to tell the truth. But she eventually informs me of a 'Go-See' for an ABC mini series about Kerry Packer. And cricket. My favourite game. Yep. (Am I un-Australian if I don't know the rules?) Anyway, I go along, hoping it's not a replay of that Phryne Fisher debacle. You remember. Two hours standing in line to do what could have been done online. I mean everything's there on the casting website: photos, measurements, biography. So I don't really see the point of going to a Go-See, see. Unless it's about seeing us all in 3D. (I hear it's the latest thing) Fortunately this is most efficiently run and a comparatively exhilerating experience. No queue. In and out in a matter of minutes. Lovely. The series is set in the 1970s (been there both in real life and on film) so I wear a skivvy and some beads and do the page boy thing with my hair. Can't hurt. If I was a man I would have stuck on some sidies. Now it's just a matter of waiting to see if the Go-See is a goer.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Say Good-bye to Hollywood
Date: February 2010
Job: Neighbours Audition
Location: Casting Office
It’s day one of a new teaching job, the week before classes start, and out of the blue I get a call telling me I’ve got an audition for a well known soapie on Tuesday at 2.15. I know I can’t say no and I don’t really want to but it’s during the first week of classes at a new school and I’m worried about asking for time off. Luckily the co-ordinator is fine about it. In fact, he turns out to be very supportive as the year goes on. I think he likes the idea of associating with an actor. Not that I would describe myself as an actor. Background artiste I think I’m called.
The script is emailed to me and I learn my lines. It’s a scene about an internet date. My character is pretending to be somebody she’s not. Ooh, intrigue. A soapie within a soapie. Just like Shakespeare. I practise at home, not really knowing how they want it. Comic or mysterious? It’s hard work getting it to sound natural so I practise with my husband, who has not one acting sinew in his body, but somehow it helps. My daughter cannot understand how someone like me could get an audition. I'm not sure myself.
I go along to the audition deliberately wearing something I think the character would wear, that is, something middle aged (no idea how it got in my wardrobe). I am led into a tiny white walled room with a chair, a video camera and a computer on a small desk. Hollywood here I come. The camera checks me out like a mechanical sleaze, its single eye vertically scanning my body, right down to my fat, sweaty little toes (it’s hot, okay) and back up again. I wish I’d worn something a bit more se-I mean, attractive. I think the camera would have been impressed. I play the scene with a woman who performs both the role of the male character and the camera operator. For some reason I find it a little hard to act like we’re on a date. She gives me a bit of direction, we run through it a few times and then it’s thanks and good-bye.
I realise my chances of winning the role are slim due to my lack of experience, which is a relief because I don’t know how I will get time off work and I’m afraid people will laugh at me for being on the soapie. It’s not as if it’s an aspiration of mine. On the other hand, what a great opportunity! And after all, look at all the actors who started out in soapies and made it big in Hollywood. There’s heaps... Really.
Okay, I’ll get back to you.
Unlike the casting lady. Alas, soapie stardom will have to wait for another day.
Job: Neighbours Audition
Location: Casting Office
It’s day one of a new teaching job, the week before classes start, and out of the blue I get a call telling me I’ve got an audition for a well known soapie on Tuesday at 2.15. I know I can’t say no and I don’t really want to but it’s during the first week of classes at a new school and I’m worried about asking for time off. Luckily the co-ordinator is fine about it. In fact, he turns out to be very supportive as the year goes on. I think he likes the idea of associating with an actor. Not that I would describe myself as an actor. Background artiste I think I’m called.
The script is emailed to me and I learn my lines. It’s a scene about an internet date. My character is pretending to be somebody she’s not. Ooh, intrigue. A soapie within a soapie. Just like Shakespeare. I practise at home, not really knowing how they want it. Comic or mysterious? It’s hard work getting it to sound natural so I practise with my husband, who has not one acting sinew in his body, but somehow it helps. My daughter cannot understand how someone like me could get an audition. I'm not sure myself.
I go along to the audition deliberately wearing something I think the character would wear, that is, something middle aged (no idea how it got in my wardrobe). I am led into a tiny white walled room with a chair, a video camera and a computer on a small desk. Hollywood here I come. The camera checks me out like a mechanical sleaze, its single eye vertically scanning my body, right down to my fat, sweaty little toes (it’s hot, okay) and back up again. I wish I’d worn something a bit more se-I mean, attractive. I think the camera would have been impressed. I play the scene with a woman who performs both the role of the male character and the camera operator. For some reason I find it a little hard to act like we’re on a date. She gives me a bit of direction, we run through it a few times and then it’s thanks and good-bye.
I realise my chances of winning the role are slim due to my lack of experience, which is a relief because I don’t know how I will get time off work and I’m afraid people will laugh at me for being on the soapie. It’s not as if it’s an aspiration of mine. On the other hand, what a great opportunity! And after all, look at all the actors who started out in soapies and made it big in Hollywood. There’s heaps... Really.
Okay, I’ll get back to you.
Unlike the casting lady. Alas, soapie stardom will have to wait for another day.
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