At 70, the "calls" get rarer and rarer...so when a world premiere of a really fascinating play comes along, and you really dig the character, and they call you in at the "head" of the day to read for it, you trip over yourself to "accept" the audition...
But you also start to lose attention to detail…
THE DAY BEGINS
I showed up, dutifully, at 10:15 AM for my 10:30 call...to
an empty parking lot....to a locked theater...and it was now 10:30...I even got
the theater business office manager to check her booking schedule...and nothing
was there...
I had been sucked into the vortex known as THE ACTOR'S
NIGHTMARE...
The casting office called me at 10:40...on my bluetooth as I
tried desperately to get back to my home computer-stored emails and check the
address...the casting people wanted to know where I was...I replied "At
the ________ Theatre, well I was but now I'm rushing back to my home to find
out what was happening..."
"The ________??
No, hon, we're at the ___________ in Hollywood...."
Picture, if you will, the map of your local area. Now...place a point somewhere near the lower
left edge of that map....now place another point somewhere towards the upper
right sector....if you can, place all kinds of natural and man-made obstacles
between points A and B....that was my location in context to their
location....it would take any human being at least 45 minutes to traverse LA
catty-corner during business hours...I could do it in 30, but not in a car with
a very unhealthy transmission...
I gave my profuse apologies, told the assistant to make sure
that his boss knew how much I appreciated this opportunity, how much I loved
this script and this character and how I really would love to read for it, but
I was now in Playa Del Rey, and Hollywood was an unrealistic goal in less than
an hour...."We're breaking for lunch from 12:30 - 2" was the
reply.
OK. I could get back
in my now-seriously ill car, already overtaxed from the morning's first
journey, and drive like a NY cabbie to this spot in Hollywood, and get there
before the 12:30 lunch break. I
suggested this possibility, and was told to try it and I would get in the
morning run...
I asked my trusty steed, my Saturn, if she had this one trip
in her. She said, "hell yes...or
I'll die trying"...and we were off...
We got there without bloodshed or violation at 11:50, parked
and checked in...the young blonde woman monitoring the call told she had made
the same mistake during the previous day's business, and was very sympathetic
to my Homeric journey..
.
Once inside (they even bumped 7 guys to get me in the
door...imagine my apologies to the room on my departure) everyone was lovely,
my abject apologies on entrance warmly received...the playwright and the
director, first meetings for me, had the glimmer of true “mensch” in their
eyes, and they were outgoing---rare and
refreshing qualities, when genuine, in my industry--and the producer and
casting director were pleasingly friendly, so... "Let's do it", I
said.
THE SCENE BEGINS
I have the first line...and, since there's no designated
"reader" with whom to interact, I prepare to launch with option
"B": you play it to an
imaginary fellow actor somewhere on your plane...somewhere within "the 4th
wall", as it were...something resembling the final product given the
medium...
Foolish boy.
A slightly annoyed tone arises from outside that 4th
wall..."read it to me"...the casting director is telling me to break
4th wall, and to play the scene with an audience member--namely
himself?....ok....been there done that..."Let's go", I say again,
this time in the guise of the first line of the scene, waiting for the reply
which will prompt my next response, etc. etc. etc....and what comes back sounds
like someone reading the minutes of some local Kiwanis Club meeting...no
inflection, no emotion, not even the attempt at eye contact...and at an
inaudible level and at breakneck speed...
Listen, please....I can play it any way I'm told to...I pride myself on being a "money player", a craftsman who can provide a quality product to my clientele...you
want "representational" acting, especially important for most media
comedy? No problemo...you want a certain
style, you want a certain sound...I'll give it my best shot...but IMHO this
play deserves more, and these two men I just met deserve a chance to judge my
work with all the steam in the engine and at pressure, and this beast was never
going to take flight with that lack of commitment on the other end of the
see-saw, so..
..
"What?
What? For Chrissakes, I'm an old
man! Speak up, boy!" hurled from my mouth, in the appropriate
dialect of this complex character, in his eighties....and it got my scene
partner's attention...
The rest of the scene went...ok....but not what I would
have been chosen as my ideal scenario for this
once-in-an-ever-so-quickly-shortening-lifetime chance at reaching for the ring...
THE EPILOGUE
Now I descend into that darkest of cellars in the actor's
psyche:
How to do I rationalize my blowing this without losing the
last, slim glimmer of hope that keeps me caring about being an actor? …without
using the "ok, you didn't get it, the callbacks were today and you ain't
called, so..." dialog, which if not monitored becomes a spiraling descent
into the dark and desperate and
oh-so-attractive-to-all-us-Brando-era-“mavericks” place…the portico of the
hellhole of the "Oh God I need This Job" place, that chant of the
serf, and which so demeans your personal sense of value as a person and as a
product?....
And there are dozen levels of perfectly logical reasons for
“not landing” this plum…”With this director’s ‘cred’ and this kind of writing, there
may be three ‘A-listers’ already being wooed to play this role”, “you were too
young to play him (What? Have you seen
my selfies???)”…even the “Simple. You suck!” response…you name it, it’s part of
the dialog…and it’s being spoken right now…
(Author’s Note: Keynesian-inclined responses proposing that "a
more accurate assessment of the offered commodity" might be in order are
welcome.)
Ah, f*ck it. I'll
feed the dogs...
Thanks for listening...
