The Countdown is On

I was downtown this afternoon and figured I might as well go to Spotlight Theater and pick up my script for “Streetcar Named Desire” since read through is tomorrow at noon. It isn’t as if it hasn’t been on my mind – I bought a paperback copy of the script months ago, when I was deciding whether or not I wanted to audition at all.  I have looked at it every day since.

I was convinced I wouldn’t be cast if I were to audition.  That is not an empowered place to come from when you hope to be cast in the show. I am not sure what finally made me cross from “Why bother?” into “Well, I might as well go ahead.”

I think it came in two places: re-reading the script and deciding to be strategic with what I really wanted to experience in the show.

I want to do as many classics in theatre as possible. I have packed a lot of experience into my relatively short time on Bakersfield stages, but I feel woefully limited in my work with classic works of literature. The idea of being in a Tennessee Williams production delighted me, so that was one of my motivations for at least showing up at auditions.

If I didn’t go to auditions, I definitely wouldn’t have a shot. At least if I went, I would know I tried.  How could I look myself in the mirror if I knew I wanted to do classics and one showed up and I didn’t even try? What would I tell my children to do?

The second motivation and simultaneously scary thing was seeing that Bob Kempf, a director I respect very much was directing. Bob was the only director in town who I had auditioned for who had never cast me. I auditioned for him twice and had been cast zero times. 

I figured, “Why not go for an even 0 for 3?”

The problem was, I really wanted to be in the show.

Add to that where it was playing – Spotlight Theater – which for me is one of the most sacred places on the planet. This was where I first experienced transcendence in acting. This is where I decided acting wasn’t a choice – it was something I absolutely had to do.

Being shut out there would be make my triple whammy more like a quadruple or quintuple or whatever a bigger uple might look like.

I called the Friday before auditions and leaped into the abyss. I made an appointment.

I had my strategy firmly in place. I chose a part that was a good, supporting character – one where I could create fully and have enough stage time that it was worth the time I would invest.

Eunice. That was who I wanted to be. I really didn’t want to play any of the other smaller roles simply because between my family, my business, and my work on the board of Bakersfield Community Theatre, my time is already pretty tight.

On my audition form they ask who you are auditioning to be. I wrote “Eunice.” It felt weird. This was “Streetcar”. Aren’t all the women supposed to want to be Blanche or Stella?

Not me. I wanted Eunice. There is another question that says, “Will you accept any role?” I didn’t want to jinx it by being negative, so I wrote, “I will play Eunice” with a smiley face.

I spent time carefully cataloging all my stage credits on the audition form before my appointment, even noting the show where I played opposite Bob, “Cabaret.” I have worried so many times that he didn’t cast me since then because I must have done an embarrassing or horrible job in that role. I knew I couldn’t hide it, so I wrote it in its exact historical sequence, thinking, “Maybe Bob will forget and maybe he won’t notice. Maybe he will think I am some strange woman off the street, just happened to be walking by the theatre and have an affinity for playing apartment building owners named Eunice.”

Coryn said to me, “Whenever you are ready.”

I was the first audition of the day. I had hoped I would at least be second. I felt like a baseball player or something with all the weird superstitions running through my head.

The walk into the basement at the Spotlight felt like it was really, really long. “Where are the auditions?” I asked.

“In the Orange Room” Coryn answered.

The Orange room. It was the place where I first experienced transcendence in an acting class with Hal Friedman and changed my life forever.  Did I hear the tides shifting? Could I finally be having a change in fortune in auditioning for Bob? Maybe this would be ok after all.

I walked in, nervous. Hoping I didn’t look nervous.

One thing about Bakersfield theatre is we all pretty much known each other, once you have been involved for any length of time at all. I know how people gossip. I am pretty sure people talk about me when I am around. I pray what they say isn’t too negative. I had a bunch of negative stuff running through my head as I waited for instructions and Bob read my audition form.

After what felt like an eternity Coryn and I were given the go-ahead to read.

She was to read for Stella and I was to read Blanches’ lines, even though I was auditioning for Eunice, which was in and of itself very exciting.  “I get to be Blanche!” I thought, “For a few moments in time, I get to be Blanche!”

“Do you want me to do an accent?” I asked Bob.

“If you have one, you can use it, if you want,” said Bob.

“Well, I don’t really have one, I mean, I can work on it, but I don’t want to sound stupid and have it detract from the audition,” I explained.

“Well, then,” said Bob, “let’s just focus on the acting.”

The audition piece could not have been more fun. It was up and down and back and forth emotionally.  We started and a couple lines into the audition I heard that somehow I had gotten some sort of accent.

I don’t know how, it just came out. I didn’t want to worry about it, so I just kept going. At one point I looked down at my hands and I realized they were shaking.  “Use it,” I heard Hal say in a years ago acting class, so I did.

I was having such a blast I started worrying about when Bob would stop me. It was a lot of dialogue and I wanted to squeeze every little bit of juice out of the piece.

I paced, I shook, I ravaged, I whispered, I cried.

And guess what?

The jinx is gone for now. I got the role I wanted, Eunice, and we start tomorrow.

Less than twelve hours to go.