The Artistic Misadventures — Stage Plight

Sometimes, I admit, I am impulsive.  One day, whilst waiting in line to procure my Hot Chocolate Charger at my favorite coffee house, I decided to glimpse the community calendar to see if there was anything going on. 

Auditions for, You Can’t Take It With You.

Oh no! Thought I, that’s tonight!  

It was a few weeks ago when I received an email from a close friend relaying the information to me, in hopes that perhaps I would re-kindle my love affair with the theatre. 

I got my coffee, and hightailed it back to the community playhouse whereupon walking into the room a kind lady asked me if I was here for the auditions and invited me to come sit in one of the seats in the theater, while they told us a little bit about the play.

Did I mention I had no clue what I was auditioning for? After being handed a piece of paper with a short monologue, I tried to find a place in the lobby to “rehearse.” Finding myself too shy to speak out loud though, I settled for just reading the thing over and over in my head, and mouthing the words as I faced the wall.

Being ushered onto the stage for my reading however, I suddenly remembered that I was horrible at auditions.

So in my best Bette Davis voice (because when I think acting I think Bette Davis) I recited my monologue, pretending that I really was the character whose name I don’t remember, and I was addressing my family, prepping them to meet my new man.

After doing what I thought was a slightly better than mediocre audition and hoping that my charming social awkwardness would carry me through to the next tier, the directors asked me if I would read it again, only this time, “Try to act a little more natural.”

 “Oh, sure!” I say. And begin to read again, but as I read, I realize I’m doing it exactly like I did it the first time and no matter how much I try to act natural, I act less natural and I am hit with the startling realization, Oh my god! I really can’t act. This is why I wasn’t Alice! This is why I wasn’t Medea, Dorothy, or Jo in Little Women. This is why I’m always in the chorus.  Oh my god!

“Thank you, Clair,” the director says, “Can you stay to read with someone else?”

What? You want me to read again? “Oh, of course!” Dang.

By now I am nervous and shaky and trying to figure out, How did I ever use to do this before? How was I so confident and oblivious to my lack of acting skills?

I am partnered up with a fellow and we rehearse in the hall. He’s playing my character’s boyfriend and he’s so good I’m blushing because I feel like he’s hitting on me and he keeps touching my arm and I want to tell him I think he’s nice, but this is all going too fast, and then I remember he’s acting.

We read and I feel embarrassed that someone is listening in on this very private conversation and I’m glad when it’s over.

And then they ask me to read again.

At the end of the night they have us line up from short to tall, and call different combinations of people forward to see how familial we can appear.

We are dismissed for the evening, and told that callbacks are tomorrow, “And if you don’t get called back that doesn’t mean you aren’t in.”

Much to my surprise after such a flawless audition, I don’t make the play.

But it was worth it … all in the name of Adventure.