Giving a Crap

Well, it seems it’s still a lean period for me. I must be too Anglo / Irish / white / whatever for today’s multi-ethnic market-place, at least in the eyes of advertising people. 

Anyway, I’ve only had three auditions so far this year and it’s nearly August. One I botched, two I did well. No work out of them but the third audition was only a couple of days ago so digits crossed. I will keep the door of hope open for as long as possible, defying both reason and reality. (Is it optimism or desperation?)

Things haven’t been too bad, though. Despite my takes-one-to-tango disaster last year (Strictly Balls-up), I actually got a call back for the lead! Didn’t get the job but I did score a TVC later in the year for the same company (Chemist Warehouse)—different product. That was my poo ad, as I affectionately call it. (At least it wasn’t incontinence pads)

So the not-so-great audition was for a radio program. Took me several takes to get the lines right, even though I knew them, and the poor guy playing my husband and I didn't really get a rhythm going until our last try. Oh well. I did do a lovely version of a primary school teacher for a car ad audition, if I do say so myself, but of course they cast a much younger person. And my latest audition was for a mum. Chemist Warehouse again. (They must be doing well.)

As usual, when I get into my car after each audition, I look in the rear view mirror, repeat the line or expression and think, ‘I should have done it differently.’ I do the same thing in the bathroom mirror at home. This time, I do it after the call back as well. I do it after I shoot the ad. I even do it after I see myself on TV. Especially after I see myself on TV.

So. The poo ad. 

The role involves reacting to my husband’s comically euphemistic announcement that he’s off to have a bowel movement. Lovely. There are four different scenarios but mine is the only one where the onscreen actor doesn’t have a line. I don’t mind. The fee’s the same. I tell myself to go for it in the audition and it seems to pay off as I get a call back. It’s with the director, same guy as the dancing commercial. Nice to know he likes me. This time I do a variety of reactions from mild amusement to disgust (doing a Stanislavski and drawing on real life experiences for the latter) then I get a chance to do a few different lines about heading to the loo for a number two. I tell the director that I love the script (oh, what a try-hard) and even mention a line from work: I’m off to log a job. When I tell my daughter that I’ve got the poo commercial, she says, ‘I always knew you had it in you.’

Anyway, it’s a reasonably relaxed shoot in an inner suburban house. Again, I film the reaction and then do a range of lines. After each group of takes the director heads off to confer with the client. It’s a little unnerving knowing they are analysing my performance via a link up in the next room, but I try not to think about it too much. My scene will only be on air for about 5 seconds but it’s amazing how many different combinations of expressions and head turns are required to get it perfect. After all that though, when I see the TVC, the timing isn’t quite right. 

Damn. I should have done it differently.

Being Seen

Date: March 2010
Job: NAB TVC
Location: Point Nepean.

There are two hundred extras on set, pretending to watch a cycling race. We’ve been here since 7.30 am, (after meeting at Springvale Station at 5.15!) and won’t leave until after 5 pm. Most are young things and there are quite a few hotties of both genders. And then there are the cyclists in their lycra. We have to cheer them on. And on. All day. Up to ten times in one position. We’ve all got the same thing in mind. Be seen. So I observe extras of all ages grabbing their spot by the barricades and guarding them fiercely. Some move in on others’ territory. I hang back with Rob, who I met on the set of The Trial (see The Trial and Error, June). But he’s tall. If I’m going to be seen I’ve got to get into the gap between two shortish pretty girls. So I cheer and clap and jump up and down as the cyclists and the camera on the back of a quad bike go whizzing past and lose my balance and fall forward onto the pretty young thing in front. I apologise, but in the next take she’s gone. More room for me. But then another pretty young thing slips in and I’m back in the second row with Rob. It seems the front row is getting more full with every take. Everyone has the same idea. But who are we trying to kid? All we will see when the ad hits the screen is a blur of faces or a split second glimpse of ourselves as we say to anyone who will listen, ‘There I am!’

So that's what it's all about. Being seen. I’ve been doing extra work for twelve months now and I’m yet to see myself on screen. The Trial has been banned in Victoria and in Rush you'd have to play it in slow-motion on a super HD wide screen with ultra zoom to see me! In the bank ad - you know, the cycling race I've just been talking about (you mean you didn‘t get the connection??)- you see about a quarter of the extras who were there and they’re just a blur, as I expected. In the first job I did on Offspring (see The Mouths of Babes, June) I thought, ooh, this is good. There's only four extras and three leads in a relatively intimate scene. Then they give me a cap to wear. And a surgical mask. Great. Then in the third job the medical expert says I don’t need to wear a mask and I think ‘woohoo!’ (or was it ‘yippee’?) but they stick one on me anyway simply because Dr Don is wearing one. I mean, it's not for me to question their artistic decisions, but whatever happened to authenticity? Really.

Now I don't want you getting the wrong idea. It's not like being seen is my main aim in life, but it would be nice. Of course, much of the work I’ve done recently is still in some stage of production and in some of it, hey, I’m not even wearing a mask, so fingers crossed.