Audition was first. I took the train in and arrived at the studio, there was one fellow ahead of me. I organized the four scenes they had asked me to prepare and got my audition book open to the song I would sing. I gave into a pacing/wandering between the studio and drinking fountain while I waited. The fellow went before me. I could hear him through the door. He sang and then read one of the same scenes I was asked to prepare, so I knew we were up for the same role(s). He was shorter than I, rounder, and bald. What is called a "character" actor in the business. Over time it is the slot that I find myself in. On the breakdowns with the audition info that the agency sends me via the emails I often see the words "seeking a character actor to play..."
I heard genial laughter and "thank yous" coming from the room and knew that I was next. The other guy came out with the casting assistant who said, "Drew? Are you ready?" I walked to my laid out materials, gathered them and said "Yes."
How many auditions? Truly. I wonder what the actual number is.
I walk in and there are the two readers facing me off to the side in their chairs. One male, one female. There is the audition accompanist behind the piano. There is a group of three people behind a long table facing me. There is a woman sitting center who I presume is the director, the casting associate, and another man... perhaps the writer?
"Hello," I say and make my way to the accompanist. I put my book in front of her and ask her if she knows the piece, she says she thinks so. I arrange the material for the scenes on the body of the piano for quick retrieval after the song.
I sing the song. I stand in front of the strangers and sing a song. I arrange myself at a slight angle off stage left and sing. At the key change the accompanist who had been doing doing well, doesn't change the key. One corner of my mind says, "c'mon accompanist... you can do it... key change." She does. Another corner of my mind is in the song, telling the story, "acting". This part controls what is being seen. Another corner of my mind is running a kind of narrative like this: "This is too much song for these "roles". The parts I'm auditioning for don't need this much of a song. But dammit, this is a song I sing well. It's difficult, it's complex. I've worked on it for years now and have had successful, fruitful auditions with this song. I sang this song for Stephen Sondheim and got the job." In yet another corner, another mind monitor is hard at work driving the physical work of the song production, "Easy, easy now. Big breath... flat tone and... wait for it.... vibrate. Volume! Breath! More Volume....pull back and.... head voice."
I finish singing the song for the strangers. There is no response. I walk to the piano to retrieve the material for the reading/acting section of the audition.
The woman who I presume is the director asks me what the name of that song was. I tell her. A phase that must easily repeat 12 times in the piece. She says "Ah. Okay let's take a look at 'Yawkey'". Yawkey is a character in one of the four scenes and four characters that I have been asked to prepare. I say, "Great!"
I think, "Shit. Yawkey is the one I like the least, and in my own humble opinion, the one that is written the most poorly. 2 and a half pages of dialog that is colorful "character" dialog, but with nothing much happening, no actual event.
I step back, hold up my sides and begin. The first line is a kind of joke. No response. No response throughout the scene as I read and (death) try harder.
The voice coming out of me doesn't sound like me. I feel fake.
I am done. The woman who I presume is the director says. "Thanks." Which means, "no" and also means "we're done, we're not going to read the other scenes."
I gather things, make eye contact with the accompanist and say "Thanks," which means thank you for not screwing me up too badly, and I leave the room.
I probably spent an hour and a half reading the script for this play. Another hour and a half working on the scenes, differentiating characters. An hour in on the train, an hour back. 1/2 hour waiting in the hall. 9 minutes in the audition room. You do the math.
As I take the elevator down from the studio and emerge on 8th Avenue I have instant post audition regret. I think that as a result of experiencing what didn't work in the scene I now know what would have worked. "If only I'd played the opposite."
No really. What is the number? 23 years in. How many auditions?
I have performance regret for an audition for a job I didn't really want in the first place. Do I really think that the resentment doesn't show? Do I really think that I still have the eye of the tiger? I have the eye of the beaten dog and frankly I wince when someone moves too quickly in the room. Hard to believe I'm going to get a job this way. In fact, sort of ludicrous.
I walk slowly up 8th Avenue. Thirties, Forties, Fifties, to the Lincoln Center area where I have the second appointment. A dinner meeting with book people. I take twenty dollars out of the bank and give it to a bartender at P.J. Clarke's and he gives me a scotch on the rocks. I kill more time until I'm supposed to meet the next group of strangers by walking around the upper West Side. I call Nicole and she fills me in on kid status. She makes me feel better by saying, "Oh well." when I tell her about the audition. And I do. I feel better.
I feel myself steeling a little as it gets close to time to meet the second group of strangers for the day. I'm sitting on a bench on the perimeter of Central Park, and I say "breathe Drew. Let the crap go. Have a little birthday today on me."
I walk to Cafe Fiorellos and meet the book people.
I recognize the first stranger Emily immediately. This stranger, whom I have met only via the internet gives me a glass of champagne, an embrace and says "I'm so excited and happy to meet you." I recognize the other stranger Sarah because she actually looks like she did in high school, and although we didn't hang out, I know her too. Another embrace. The subject of the book arrives, another stranger who I recognize because I have done my research. And the final stranger who is a complete stranger to me arrives, a dinner guest who is an interested party in the product.
(Sorry for being semi vague about this stuff, but as to content of the books I have been advised to be discreet.)
The dinner flies by. Truly the 3 hours seem much much shorter than the nine minutes I spent with the other strangers earlier in the day. We order food. We order wine. The publishers present slick and beautiful materials and outline their goals. The interested party tells his story and explains his interest. I tell my story. The subject of the book to be tells his story. We laugh and the publishers brush away some tears. We talk about how to tell the story. The strangers listen to me and show signs of liking my ideas. I like my ideas. I eat a semi okay thin crust Pepperoni pizza. Emily has a disappointing ragu pasta. Subject has a disappointing broccoli rabe pasta. Sarah and Interested Party share a semi okay Margherita pizza. We finish wine, have some personal talk and make plans for the next step.
The voice coming out of me sounds like me. I feel real.
We leave the restaurant and all walk down Broadway for a bit before we separate with more hugs. There is a true warmth that I take with me as I walk the rest of the way down Broadway and catch my train at Penn Station.
Without giving too much away, the subject's story has much to do with following bliss. I think about that on the train.
here's a better pizza:
The Dough
2 tsp. active dry yeast
1 cup warm (105º to 115º) water
3 cups all purpose flour
1 Tbs. salt
2 tsp. sugar
1/4 cup plus 1 Tbs. Extra Virgin Olive Oil
The Sauce
1 28 oz. can diced San Marzano Tomatoes in juices
1 Tbs. fresh chopped oregano
1 large garlic clove minced
2 Tbs. fresh chopped basil
2 or 3 Tbs. Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Salt to taste
1 lb. fresh mozzarella cut into strips and drained
Fresh basil leaves
drizzle of Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Toppings of choice
In a bowl combine warm water and yeast. In a food processor with dough blade on dough setting combine flour, salt and sugar. Mix thoroughly. Add yeast mixture and olive oil and combine until dough forms into a ball. If dough is too sticky add more flour 1 Tbs. at a time, if too dry add warm water 1 Tbs. at a time.
Remove dough from processor and knead on a floured surface for 5 to 10 minutes. Form into a ball, place in an oiled bowl, cover tightly with plastic wrap and let rise for about an hour or until doubled in size.
Combine tomatoes, oregano, garlic, basil, olive oil and salt in a bowl and marinate for at least an hour.
Preheat oven to 450º
Punch down dough and knead for another 5 to 10 minutes. Divide into two balls, wrap tightly with plastic wrap and let rest for 10 to 20 minutes.
Take one of the dough balls and stretch into desired size pizza round. Then repeat with second dough ball.
Top each pizza with sauce, cheese and desired toppings.
Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, remove from oven and let rest for 3 minutes before slicing and topping with basil leaves.
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