Page 10 of Directing You
I wanted to make a living in theater…not just for the vanity of it. If that meant being a stage manager or someone backstage and paying my bills? I’d be just as happy as if I were the lead.
Okay, maybe notjustas happy. But Iwouldbe happy. It would definitely beat shaking my tits and ass in a Willy Wonka costume every night for tips.
“Good, good,” Professor Bradley said. “I will chat with you four more later about your roles and what your goals are in this business. I would still like you all to audition for the show though. Even if you don’t think you want to be on stage.” He cleared his throat, looking back at Ms. Dercy. “I assume it’ll be okay to get access to one of the stages in the building since this is a musical theater course?”
I heard her clear her throat and forced my face to remain neutral as I spun in my seat to face her. She nodded, smiling at him. Practically kissing the ground he walked on. I didn’t know if she wanted to sleep with him or be cast in one of his shows or if she was simply rallying for him to teach more courses here, but either way, the display was revolting. Most of our professors were also actors trying to make it in this business.
We all knew Professor Faith—we called her by her first name since we all called her husband Professor Lewis—was going to be gone for this tour. But the school had kept the fill-in professor a secret. And now I knew why. They must have wanted to wait to make sure he was truly going to be here teaching before making any announcement.
“Great, then let’s begin. I will post the character descriptions on the class forum. Next week’s class will be our auditions. Bring in an audition song, sixteen bars, that reflects the character you are auditioning for. We will have cold readings from the show as well as a dance audition. Any questions?”
No one spoke as he moved toward the whiteboard and lifted the marker into his long, thick fingers. Fingers I knew very well. Biblically well. I gulped and glanced down at my laptop. Jesus, I needed to get it together. “Great. Then let’s begin with audition fundamentals.”
* * *
The restof the class actually went smoothly. Some of what he taught was common sense—things like, wear clothing that reflects the character you are hoping to get. And if you’re auditioning for a soprano role, don’t choose an audition song that belts your face off like a mezzo or an alto.
But a lot of what he said was new information. He had us work on our slating—a standard practice where auditioners state their names into a camera for the casting director. Apparently, Professor Bradley claimed he could tell from that exact moment in an audition if he was going to invite you in for a callback. Simply by how you said your name, which honestly, to me, either sounded like a lie or like he was totally full of himself.
One by one, he had us stand in the front of the room and practice our audition greeting.
“Ms. Stone,” he said. “You’re up.”
I smoothed my wrinkled, ripped jeans as I stood and walked to the center of the classroom. I beveled my toe, put a hand on my hip, and smiled. “Hi, I’m Hazel Stone and I’m auditioning for the role of Mary.”
His pen fell between his lips and he chewed the edge, eyes narrowing onto me. “Nope,” he said simply. “Hands at your sides and try again.”
Shit. What was wrong with what I did? Was it really my hands on my hips that was the problem?
My fingers flinched as I dropped them to my sides, and I stated my name once more, feeling my smile drop nervously as I finished.
“Nope,” he said again, tossing the pen onto the desk in front of him. “Again.”
I shifted my feet and folded my hands in front of me, mustering up what was left of my confidence, and gave my name once more.
“No, no, no.”
I threw my hands up, letting them land on the outsides of my thighs with a heavy slap. “Can you at least tell me what I’m doing wrong? I don’t know how I’m supposed to learn without knowing that?”
“You’re flirting with me, Ms. Stone.”
My jaw nearly smacked the linoleum tiles, and I heard a few giggles come from my classmates. My cheeks flamed red hot. “Excuse me? You thinkthatwasflirting?”
“Yes,” he said simply, and as the snickers grew louder, I snorted. Loudly. I couldn’t help it.What an asshole. If I wasn’t mistaken, I had been the one to turnhimdown last night. To call it off before we took things to the next level. Was this some sort of deep-seeded ego bullshit I was dealing with now? “You have a sultry smile. Your hip is cocked, toe is pointed in, and every time you start talking, you arch your upper back, pushing your cleavage out.”
I narrowed my eyes at the bastard. Yep. Definitely Professor Cockhead. Was there something in the water at this university that turned the male professors into total dickwads? “What if I’m auditioning for a role that matches the vixen or the flirt?” In fact, I was almost always typecast in that part. It was another reason I was sick of being on stage. If I had to play one more sassy, brassy bimbo, I was going to attack the Samuel French offices.
“Slating your name is the one moment that you are allowed to be as far from the character as you want to or can be. In fact, it will show what a good actress you are if you are yourself and then transform into the character.”
“So… I’m supposed to do what up here?”
“Beyourself. This is the moment on stage the casting team wants to seeyou.Not a character you’re singing or reading for. Not a perfect triple pirouette. Just you.”
Fuck. Just me? When was the last time I had to be just me on stage?
I was chewing my bottom lip without realizing it and tugged it free from between my teeth, clearing my throat into my fist. I smoothed my hair, buying as much time as I could before I dropped my hands to my sides, pushing my weight to be evenly distributed between my feet. God, I felt awkward. Everyone else seemed to do much better at this than me. Were they all just more genuine than me? Knew who they were? Better at being themselves?
I started to smile and felt the corners of my mouth fall. Me? I wouldn’t smile. Not that big cheesy grin I had done earlier. Instead, I gave a small, tight-lipped smile that dropped almost as immediately as it appeared. “Thanks for seeing me today. I’m Hazel Stone and I’ll be reading for Mary.”
