Into The Light . . .
How to play the game . . .
After more years of losing than anyone cared to remember, the Eagles, under the leadership of Andy Reid, started the '00 season with an out-of-blue daring onside kick against the top rated Dallas Cowboys, a risky and aggressive play that won the game and sent a message to both the team and it's opponents:
I called that play to make a statement.
What I was saying was: we're going after this and we'll have some fun doing it.
It's part of the game.
You don't hold back in the NFL.
- Andy Reid.
New Perspectives Theatre, 750 8th Ave, New York City, 11:00am . . .
. . . I am waiting in the dark, in the wings, with two other auditioneers. I am second to go, waiting for my turn, an audition slot scheduled at 11:04am: 2 monologues in 3 minutes in front of an audience of about 27 off and off-Off-Broadway theatre company directors & assistants, 2-3 agents and 2-3 casting directors. I'm so nervous, so scared, and yet transcending this & close to tears, I can't believe how luckly I am to be here, doing this . . .
For the past two weeks in the basement of the retro-fitted building of my loft, I rehearsed two monologues: one that I had written (see First Monologue: 2004.11.02), and a Shakespearean monologue, Lewis from King John. I also worked with a monologue coach (Charles) the week before, someone who specializes in Shakespeare.
Each night, usually late, for about an hour (never much more than that), I started rehearsal by going over notes to myself that I had made the night before. I worked each monologue separately and then for the last 15 minutes or so, I ran them together, rehearsing everything from the how I would enter the room, how I would introduce myself and what I was going to do, the first monologue, the transition between between the monologues, the second monologue, and then how I would the end, saying thank you and leaving the room.
. . . I hear the audition monitor out in the audience say "time" ending the audition of a woman currently onstage. As instructed by the house manager, as soon as she leaves the stage and starts down the exit, the man in front of me starts out, passing the woman on his way to the stage. I try to block out everything -- I now have 3 minutes (at most) to concentrate, to mentally rehearsal what I'm going to, to start to focus, relax . . .
The two most critical things for me in rehearsal were 1) how to start, and 2) taking time with the transitions. Finding a strong emotional place to start is, and continues to be, my biggest challenge: Why are these people talking? What compels them to speak? What do they need to say, and why? The nature of attention is that once engaged, it recruits additional brain resources (cognitive, perceptional, emotional) to further process what it is paying attention to, so the rule in performance/auditions is: it is easier to keep someone's attention than it is to get someone's attention. Starting strong gets their attention immediately. Every night, I looked for stronger, more clearer places, emotional places, to begin. I even had to do this for the monologue I wrote.
A corollary is using the real space, i.e., I'm in a real space doing these monologues -- use it, and place the person I'm talking to in that space, and keep them fixed. Giving myself a couple of points of focus, and sticking to them, i.e., not letting my focus wander, helped more than I thought it would: it helped to keep things 'clean' and at least physically clear.
The second challenges was just slowing the hell down and letting these people speak, letting myself (from one 'beat' to the next) follow the transitions that they needed to make, i.e., letting the transition take as long as it needed to take. This is both hard and absolutely critical: hard because there was an absolute 3-minute limit, and if you weren't finished, too bad -- they cut you off. However, it was critical that I take my time and "allow" the transitions to take whatever time they needed. You see/feel the shape of the character, his struggle, his journey, in the transitions. Charles gave me excellent advice: I'd rather see you take your time and possibly get cut off rather than rushing through these monologues; you're going to be so much better off, and he was absolutely right.
. . . I hear the auditioneer on stage say "thank you." 11:04am. I take a deep breath, and step out of the dark and into the light . . .
Post-audition notes:
1st) I arrived with 40 headshots/resumes and I left with 25. So, 15 people, about half the groups/individuals in the audience, kept my headshot/resume. This is more than I thought/hoped for, so it was a relief and a pleasant surprise. We shall see what comes of that.
2nd) I didn't rush (at least not much). I allowed myself to follow most of the transitions. This was great because this was a major performance goal, and up till this point, rushing has been a problem. It was a real milestone not to do that. And things happen when I don't rush.
3rd) My time was very good -- the last line of Lewis didn't make the cut-off, but I was prepared for that: I knew both monologues were unlikely to fit within 3 minutes, but my real overall goal was to work two monologues to a point I never really have before, to be more confident about taking them out on the audition road. I was actually thrilled that I got as far as I did: I was expecting to get cut off a few lines earlier, and the night before I did manage to shave off a few seconds without sacrificing the major performance goal of not rushing the transitions.
Interesting -- I'm having trouble recalling exactly what happened during the monologue. I'm aware that I did pretty much what I did rehearse, but w/out pushing or trying to do things. I may have, hopefully, been doing quite naturally what I found to be working in rehearsal.
Finally, this experience has taught me to always set some challenging but potentially reachable goals -- a stretch to the point where I wonder if I've made a mistake in choosing the goal but still confident enough to give it my best shot and so that I'm motivated to prepare as much as I can so that I can do my best.
. . . and still the real long-term challenge
I was still "playing it safe," a bit, still felt like I was holding back, a bit. Somehow, however, I'm convinced that time and (positive) experience will take care of this -- this is a critical component of my growth . . . it's just a glimmer, but I can feel myself getting braver inside . . .
Some Final Thoughts . . .
Now I want the perfect audition -- I keep thinking that this lies in planning out what I'm going to do, finding perfection in rehearsal and then bringing/transporting that perfection into performance/audition . . .
. . . but I don't think perfection is found there. I think it's found in those un-grasped moments when I'm holding back, it's found in the spontaneous moments of living . . .
As always, my question: what is the relationship between rehearsal and performance? . . . what are these eternal places . . . ?
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