Hi friends!
I wanted to relay a fun story about my evening.
Backstory: In January or February, I sent a headshot/res to a small, emerging theatre in Bailey. They are doing a staged reading of Doubt. I love LOVE Shanley as you all know, and I would never have a shot at creating the role of Sister Aloysius in a traditional performance, so I threw my hat in. In March, they called to audition me. I heard nothing back after the audition other than an email the next day from the producer vaguely referencing a call back and attaching monologues she recommends for me, and I'm getting ghosted a lot so I shrugged it off. Yesterday, 19 June, I had a callback for them. The staged reading is in September.
The callback was a Zoom call. I did my prep for the two monologues, reread the play and re watched the movie. I set up my computer in the dining room where I could have space and light, stacking books for height, and got ready for the 6pm callback. I warned Jim that I'd be in a callback when he came home. I also warned the five cats and three dogs, none of which speak English, but I didn't want to exclude them.
At 5.57 pm I logged on. I am not adept at Zoom, as I spent 18 months teaching on Google Meets, so when they could hear me but I couldn't hear them, I had to troubleshoot in the meeting. Which is a great look for a callback. I figured it out, but they were subjected to my external monologue as I navigated the menu. When I was finally functioning, it was 6pm. The director and an actor reading for Sister James were the only two in the call. I figured this would be short and sweet.
They complimented the googley eyed family portraits behind me, and I explained that Harp had done that when she was pregnant. They found it hilarious. Good hilarious or "Why Did we Call Her Back" hilarious, I cannot say.
Immediately, the dogs wanted back in.
Then Sock, the cat, who had been offered re entry with the canines but snubbed the chance, started staring at me through the door. So I let her in.
So far this was going exactly as planned.
I had no idea what to expect for two very valid reasons:
1) I have not been to a play callback as an actor in years. I cannot recall if I had a callback for Steel Mags in 2016 or not. If I did, it was a usual group thing, done where actors are shuffled hither and yon until the cast is revealed. I've not been to a two person callback...ever? I recall three of us for a Sam Shepard at Curious: it was my college friend Jon Arp, my friend Ellen and myself. Clearly Jon was already cast, Ellen and I were competing for the female role. Ellen won. It took maybe twenty or thirty minutes.
2) I suck at Zoom. The original Zoom audition had been with the director and producer, and took a good thirty minutes. That was surprising to me. They both gave me direction, and then the producer sent me a list of other monologues I should try in the future. Which made me laugh, because I am retired. I can't learn lines any more, the concussion broke my brain and the only reason I auditioned for this were the words "Staged Reading". Which translates to "Not Off Book".
So, when only the director was present with another actor, I was thrown yet again.
I had prepared the monologues, but had not prepared the scene because I struggle with reading comprehension in unfamiliar situations (see above: concussion) and did not know it was expected that I do so.
After fumbling around, the director asked me to read the scene with the other actor. Because I cannot manage Zoom, I couldn't remember how to get the script on screen with the camera so I can remain in frame. So I had to read from my phone, held in my left hand in front of me, next to the camera. We read it once, and halfway through Jim arrived home. The garage door went up. The dogs went off. The Ring doorbell went off. The kitten jumped on the lap top and toppled my tenuous tower of books that allowed me to look directly into the camera instead of down.
I kept going, juggling my phone and the laptop for a few lines, before stopping. I laughed and said "Are you sure you wanted to call me back for this?" They both laughed as well, and again I wondered if I was being laughed at, and I rebuilt my tower as we continued. As I adjusted, I named two other actors in town that could nail this part and suggested they call them. More laughter.
Thirty minutes later I had read the scene five times. Every time she stopped, it was to give me new direction. I've never made an actor read that many times, even if they were cast.
I figured she'd seen enough, there would be no need for the monologues at this point.
I was wrong. She dismissed the other actor and then had me take on the monologues. Again, stopping and starting with new direction as she had in the scenes.
When she finally thanked me, and started reviewing the rehearsal and performance schedule, it was 6.52.
I swear, regardless of what direction I was given, I kept doing it the same way. At one point, she said "Disregard the past direction and think about this thing" and kept talking. By the time she'd finished explaining, I'd forgotten what This Thing was and had to ask her to repeat it. I then proceeded to do the monologue exactly the way I'd been doing it (in my mind) because my brain hurt and I'm not Meryl Streep and I'm not an actor any more FOR THIS REASON.
I walked downstairs after the callback where Jim was washing the Corvette and got a beer. I sat in front of the TV with the beer for thirty minutes, not comprehending what I was watching, just replaying the callback and ruminating on how ridiculous it must have been to watch me juggle my phone, five cats, three dogs, a tower of books, the lap top and communicating the intentions of Sister Aloysius, and running through the names of local actors I know that could crush that role. Maybe someday I'll get to direct it. Maybe someone would want me to direct them.
I am definitely not an actor any more.
And I am OK with it.
SCENE
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