December 2003 Archives

Auditon: La Mama E.T.C., The Annex. Cold reading of the script
Director: Unknown.
Location: 74 A East 4th Street, New York City, NY 10003 (Lower East Side near the Bowery)

Positives

Took direction when they were ‘physical’ directions (i.e., “now try to get past her and get to the window”).

Asides

   – Interesting. There seems to be two types of direction:

   1) physical/activity, e.g., “now try to get past her and get to the window,”

   2) “be like this” direction, e.g., “a lover, a Don Juan”

   #1 is easy(er) because it is immediately a clear and specific goal – something that easily recruits, organizes, and coordinates attention and cognitive/emotion resources.

   #2 is hard(er) precisely because it sometimes does not immediately crystallize into a clear, specific, simple goal or idea. I need to have a clear “action,” i.e., a very clear and simple idea of what “be like this” means. Without a clear idea, I’m unfocused, vague, indicating, awkwardly pretending to “be” something.

    How do I, in a few seconds, come up with a clear ‘actable’ choice?

   This is a bit worrisome – it all seems to be in the hands of luck and intuition. However, this very well may be a skill, i.e., practice doing things that initially seem bizarre or potentially embarrassing (as was the case with Don Juan) . . . as I write, I don’t think I so much lack imagination as I do courage -- that’s hopeful: I can ‘act’ more courageously by simply being willing to fail, to embarrass myself.

Negatives

1.Didn’t adequately read through the sides – I waited for the SM to give them to me once she finished helping someone else, and when I got them, I didn’t have as much time as I otherwise would have. Solution – too shy again: be proactive!!! Interrupt, apologize, and simply ask for the sides.

2.Lots of stage directions in the sides – as I was going over them, I skipped over the stage directions because I didn’t think I’d actually be asked to do them . . . I won’t make that mistake again.

In March 2002, I took a monologue workshop with John Ruocco. An entry about this workshop in an eariler journal, a day or two after we first met:

The first day of this workshop, my heart was pounding: all the people there were professional/experienced actors, some had even worked with the director running the workshop, John Ruocco. There were four people in the workshop, including myself. The first person went up, and . . . she was great! I thought: I've made a mistake, I'm in over my head, I have ZERO experience (and probably even less facility), and I'm going to make a fool of myself.

Terrified, I was determined not to go last, and after the 3rd person finished, I put my hand up. I can't believe I was that brave -- at the time, I didn't feel brave . . . just . . . jumping in as if my life or something depended on it. All the monologues presented up to that point were contemporary, light . . . I did Hamlet: his last desperate soliloquy (4.4), alone on the fields of Denmark, after he meets the captain of Fortinbras' army, and How all occasions do inform against me. It's do-or-die time for Hamlet, and I knew, in that moment, exactly how he felt.

I was surprised (!). While part of John's job is to be supportive and encouraging, he said it was excellent, and seemed to be quite sincere about that: much better initial feedback than I expected, and I did better than I expected -- and I think, taking into account my lack of experience, I may have held my own against these more experienced actors. Whatever happened, I'm a 1000% more confident now to try auditions for small parts (off-off-Broadway stuff): I need experience. My goal was -- is -- to now experience dramatic production from the actor’s point of view rather than from the outside, from my role as stage manager. There I got the big picture. Now I want to experience being part of that machine -- Theatre: a vehicle for telling a story. I don't think I have ambitions to be actor, whatever that really means, but I find the work fascinating, and I'd like to participate at some level and be reasonably "good" at it -- how 'good' is good?

Good enough to get a part.

I need to find two more "classical" monologues, but comic (something from Shakespeare -- and read the play -- and something from somewhere else).

    - Christopher, March 2002, Washington Square Park, New York City.

Audition: The Heights Players, monologue (1st monologue ever for real -- GRIGORI STEPANOVITCH SMIRNOV from Chekhov’s one-act, The Boor.), 12/6/2003 7PM.
Director: unknown.
Location: 26 Willow Place, Brooklyn, Brooklyn Heights.

Positives
- Remembered to ‘place’ the character, Helena Ivanovna Popov, and kept her there.
- Attitude: Told myself NOT to play it safe, i.e., not to give them what I think they want. I took my time to do what I wanted, and I didn’t care about what would happen.
- Took command of a very tiny playing space (i.e., it was in a theatrical dressing room)

Negatives
- Scared, nervous, only “in” the monologue about 30% of the time. The other 60% of the time felt like I was just saying lines when the time came, lines without specifics, without thoughts . . .

Words without thoughts never to heaven go – Claudius, Hamlet 3-2.
As perfect a description of bad acting as there will ever be.

- Moved without real reason.

Problem – why was the monologue so much better at home?
Solution – day of the audition, only the run the lines with the ‘specifics’ in mind, then DON’T do the monologue until the audition. The rational here is that each time I practice the monologue, the first run seems best, more interesting, more intuitive.

Suggestions
- The tiny audition space took me by surprise, so do the monologue standing & sitting only. Switch attention between Helena and one or two other objects, no more then this.
- Slow down! Just like ‘taking-it-off’ the page: breath and let the thought/feeling, ANY thought/feeling, come, and then just say the line. Do not worry if nothing comes – let intuition take over. Let myself be surprised.

Audition Goals (as of 12/06/2004):
1. Don’t EVER play it safe – NEVER anticipate what they might “want.”
2. Cultivate the attitude of “who cares” concerning the o/come. Getting a part is a question of bringing the “right” ingredients, at the right time, to the theatrical kitchen – I can’t predict/control these two variables (i.e., the right ingredients at the right time), but I can ALWAYS choose to do goal #1: whatever the right ingredients are, they will express themselves in the released, intuitive, moment.

In March 2002, I took a monologue workshop with John Ruocco. An entry about this workshop, a day or two after we first met:

“The first day of this workshop, my heart was pounding: all the people there were professional/experienced actors, some had even worked with the director running the workshop, John Ruocco. There were four people in the workshop, including myself. The first person went up, and . . . she was great! I thought: I've made a mistake, I'm in over my head, I have ZERO experience (and probably even less facility), and I'm going to make a fool of myself.

Terrified, I was determined not to go last, and after the 3rd person finished, I put my hand up. I can't believe I was that brave -- at the time, I didn't feel brave . . . just . . . jumping in as if my life or something depended on it. All the monologues presented up to that point were contemporary, light . . . I did Hamlet: his last desperate soliloquy (4.4), alone on the fields of Denmark, after he meets the captain of Fortinbras' army, and How all occasions do inform against me. It's do-or-die time for Hamlet, and I knew, in that moment, exactly how he felt.

I was surprised (!). While part of John's job is to be supportive and encouraging, he said it was excellent, and seemed to be quite sincere about that: much better initial feedback than I expected, and I did better than I expected -- and I think, taking into account my lack of experience, I may have held my own against these more experienced actors. Whatever happened, I'm a 1000% more confident now to try auditions for small parts (off-off-Broadway stuff): I need experience. My goal was -- is -- to now experience dramatic production from the actor’s point of view rather than from the outside, from my role as stage manager. There I got the big picture. Now I want to experience being part of that machine -- Theatre: a vehicle for telling a story. I don't think I have ambitions to be actor, whatever that really means, but I find the work fascinating, and I'd like to participate at some level and be reasonably "good" at it -- how 'good' is good?

Good enoough to get a part.

I need to find two more "classical" monologues, but comic (something from Shakespeare -- and read the play -- and something from somewhere else).”

Fast forward to … today. I finally got headshots and put together a theatrical resume – all stage management, few if any classes. However, I have read and read that auditioning is simply a skill to acquire. So, with nothing more at stake than acquiring experience, today, I jumped in -- head first . . .

Audition: Ayn Rand’s Night of January 16th, cold reading, 12/5/2003 7PM (blizzard weekend.)
Director: Debbie King.
Location: Brooklyn, S. Oxford St., near intersection Lafayette & Fulton St.

Positives:
I took my time (following Harold Guskin’s great advice: ‘talking it off the page,’ from his “How To Stop Acting”).

I need to practice breathing before each line/phase so that it becomes automatic. Breathing will help keep the rhythm of 1) taking-it-off-the-page, 2) letting it effect me, and 3) delivery.

Problems:
- I Lost contact, at times, with the text. See “breathing: solution above – this may help.
- Played it safe, i.e., I put some attention on the goal of trying to be what I “think” the character is rather than just giving him time and breath without thought. Again – practice breathing before thinking, and then just LET GO and say the line -- let him talk.
- Once the director gives me an implicit signal to start, TAKE THE STAGE – the stage and time are mine. Don’t rush. Take control.

The stage floor, the proscenium arch, the ceiling, the relationship of the stage to the audience – this is a place of ancient, eternal magic, and it has always, eternally, fascinated me. Theatre is a 'space' within a space, and it is within this 'space,' this dramatic space, I want to live forever.

I have taken the title of this journal from Josef Svoboda’s monumental poetic memoir "The Secret Of Theatrical Space." This journal is, or will be, a record of my journey through this 'space' . . . but a journey to where?

                 To where I need to go.

                                       ~e-mail me

THEATRICAL BIO:

NYC: joans voicess (Medicine Show Theatre), Out Of The Closet (13th Street Rep), & To Be A Black Man In America (UJAAMA Theatre); Angel Heart (Stage Adapation,  Nuyorican Poets Cafe); BROOKLYN: The Adding Machine (Impact Theatre); FILM/TV: "Sad Love Story," "Searching for Bobby D," "Dysfunction," & "The Librarian"; UPCOMMING: Last Jew in Europe (Jewish Theatre Of New York, The Triad, NYC, fall 2007 through May 2008). Regularly performs with The Instant Shakespeare Company; Ongoing study with Deborah Carlson (a gifted actress with a amazing talent for teaching -- thank you Deborah!). vIsIt~ www.myspace.com/thefouragesofpoetry