A few weeks ago, I auditioned, somewhat accidentally, for part in a one-act play. And I got it.
I left my office that Friday to get lunch at the MU. As I passed the library next to my office on my way to the elevator, I noticed a sign reading “Auditions 1:00-3:00″ taped to the door. I remembered that some time before that I’d received e-mail from one of my classmates saying that she was enrolled in a directing class and needed actors to direct in a short scene for a final project. I was tempted to volunteer, as she’d volunteered to be a subject for K.’s final project in a photography class. I thought it would be nice to somehow return the favor. But she’d written that she needed “un chico y una chica” so I just assumed I was too old and deleted the e-mail. I didn’t think about it until I saw the sign. I peeked into the library and since no one was auditioning I greeted R., and then headed to the MU, where I picked up a bagel with lox and cream cheese.
When I got back to Sproul I saw that R. and T. were in the library, so I peeked in again and asked how it was going. There hadn’t been many auditions. I asked about the class and the audition process and the play and she told me the name, Sure Thing, and asked if I’d read it. Of course I hadn’t. “Do you want to read it?” she asked. She sounded so excited about it, that I said, “OK, it’ll be a good break from being in my office.” I sat down and she passed me a copy of the script. T. was sitting across from me, also with a copy of the script – he’d already been cast. When he started to read the first line aloud I was a little surprised, but I thought that maybe R. meant did I want to read it to give T. a run-through or practice, so I just went with it. We read the whole scene, about 25 minutes. Periodically R. rang a small bell whenever one of the characters said or did something that impeded them from making a connection to each other. When we’d finished, she said “Wow! If you want it, the part’s yours!” “Cool!” I responded, “It seems like fun.” And it did! Plus, Raquel seemed so excited and relieved to have finally found both of her actors that I didn’t have the heart to say no.
It’s never been too hard for me to pick up a text and read it aloud, but I expressed my misgivings about actually acting (which I’d only ever done in jr. high and high school) and about my age and appearance not matching the character. She said it was actually a good thing that T. and I were closer in age than the only other auditionee. And she said there was a chemistry! So, for the next three weeks or so, I attended rehearsals in cafés (the setting of the play) and in the staging area in Wright Hall. We never did the whole play again after that first reading. R. cut it down to a 5 minute scene which ends with a very dramatic outburst by my character. After rehearsals, I was always exhausted yet stirred up.
I entered into this project as a favor to R., in the spirit of collaboration, art for art’s sake, etc. But as the weeks progressed, I began to think that the favor was actually somehow more for me. I played the character of Betty (late twenties, sitting in a café reading Faulkner on a Friday night) as someone not too different from me. The hard part, the stretch, was taking on the persona of a someone who would be approached by a stranger or someone who a guy would hit on. I don’t see myself as being attractive enough for that to happen in real life, and that’s why it was good to do this play. It took me out of myself; it relaxed and challenged me at the same time.
The final line, a whole paragraph, was always difficult to warm up to. It’s a verbal barrage in which Betty assumes that the other character is trying to just make small talk long enough to get her to his place where a (for her) disastrous one-night stand will ensue. She utilizes the probability function of the future tense to recount past experiences and uses the fuck-word. I think my difficulty with this line enabled R. to experience a lot of aspects of directing. When I was finally able to work up to it, I think it was often almost with the results she hoped for. But I never did conjure up anything specific to help me get the emotions, at least not consciously.
We performed on Thursday for the entire class of directors. Before going in, we ran through the play once outside. But before we’d started, a car slowed as it passed us. “It’s E.O.!” R. exclaimed. He’s an alum from our department, one who had done theater and directed plays in the department and in his classes.. “It’s a good omen running into him,” I replied. R. asked him to watch us and give any pointers. He said he liked it, gave a few suggestions, then left to meet someone. We went in to the staging area and watched one or two other performances, like The Miracle Worker and Spring Awakening or ‘Night, Mother.
Almost all of the other actors were just that, actors who’d done lots of plays. I don’t know how vast the difference between them and us seemed; it might have been quite obvious that T. and I sort of just walked in off the street, so to speak. I do remember thinking that our scene went well and that after we finished I was shaking and hugged both R. and T. hard from sheer nervous adrenaline.
I think it was one of the best things that’s happened to me this winter. And it came along just at the right time.
