I’ve done some horrible auditions. I’ve been shouted at for
doing things wrong and I’ve been told off for not knowing things. I’ve been
ignored, I’ve been laughed at and I’ve been made to feel like an idiot. And at
their worst, they’ve made me wonder whether I should really be an actor. And
today’s audition fell firmly within that last catergory…
Directors, I know most of you are good people. I know you do
a damn fine job and are a sheer joy to work with. You respect the people you
work with and you actually know what you’re doing. But oh how I wish you’d all
been with me today to see just how it shouldn’t be done. I got to the audition
venue about 15 minutes early because that’s how I roll. I hold running late
akin to drowning puppies so I will always be early for things. I’m usually so
early that I have to do a fair few wandered laps around the venue so that I don’t
look utterly ridiculous with my insane timekeeping. But 15 minutes early is
massively acceptable so I headed straight in. The audition was being held
upstairs and I was told to head straight up so, being the law abiding citizen
that I am, I did.
At the top of the open stairs was an open door so I
tentatively poked my head round where I was greeted with a ‘hello’ that was so
shocked, I wondered if I was accidentally wielding a bloody axe. I wasn’t and I
stepped into the room as that seemed the polite thing to do. The director
glanced at me, sighed, rolled his eyes and grunted a ‘And who are you?’ in my
general direction. My reply, which I attempted to accompany with a handshake,
was completely ignored and he turned to his producer to ask ‘Do we want to see
HER now?’ She made a fuss about having to check half of south London first to
make sure that no one else was waiting to be seen. She traipsed off with her
A-Z and compass and in hand and I was made to wait in the middle of the room
while the panel stared at me, making no attempt to make me feel comfortable. I
told them that I was happy to wait until my actual time slot but his only
response was a look that is usually reserved for when you tell a panel that
your audition piece will be you drinking your own urine while you play the
national anthem by tapping a cocktail stick on your toenails. Our intrepid
explorer finally returned and she said that they might as well see me now. This
was greeted by the director with a slump down at his desk and I was finally
invited to sit down.
The second I sat down, I was asked for an in-depth analysis
(the type even Freud would’ve called excessive) for a character that has a
total of eight lines in a 30 minute film. I gave what I thought was an
extremely detailed and well-considered answer and I was actually rather proud
of the points I made. But oh no. Mr Director politely nodded until I was done
and then went on to tell me that I was completely wrong and then treated me to
a lecture to his thoughts on the character. Fine. Have your moment of glory,
you jumped-up, unsupportive, horrible piece of directorial trash.
I was then asked to read a couple of scenes which were both
fine. I was reading with the producer who seemed more interested in checking
her emails than actually helping me and the director seemed to enjoy giving me
the type of direction where you’re asked to be happy, sad, confused, angry,
sarcastic, devious, honest and tentatively bold with a single line that
contains one word. It’s such a hideous thing to ask of an actor and only
results in them line coming out either completely flat or at a pitch you didn’t
even realise you were capable of.
By now I was feeling so low about the audition that I was
fairly sure things couldn’t get any worse. But of course it could. I finished
the final line of the last scene, held the moment for a couple of seconds like
all good actors do and then looked over at him to see him actually wince.
Directors, if you ever want to make your actor feel like they’ve been wasting
their life chasing their dream, try wincing after their performance. You’ll be
amazed at just how useless it can make someone feel.
Apparently I’ll be hearing back from them later today on
whether I’ve got the part. If I get it then I will eat my hat, shoes, coat and
snood because it’ll help detract from the pain of having to work with this
director again…
Heavens! Perhaps you should turn this into a sketch/short film...am I allowed to say I kind-of hope you *don't* get the part? It's not that they don't deserve you - sounds like they don't deserve anyone...
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