CamelBlog

rants and bitcheries

In Defence of Directors

| So Sayeth Se Vaughn

I love directors.

But I also hate them.

I am not a playwright who is of the mind that he can direct his own work. I have no career designs on ever being a director. One hyphen is enough for me.

I tried directing once. I enjoyed it. But it did nothing for me.

I prefer designing worlds and people on the page or becoming them nightly on the stage.

But working with directors has led to some of the most frustrating and rewarding experiences (never simultaneous, sadly). I’ve also come to realise there is a startling difference between the American and British approaches; both can learn much from one another. Especially when it comes to dealing with living playwrights and their texts. I suspect many a moment has passed in a rehearsal room on both sides of the ocean where a director has wished the playwright were dead and out of the director’s ‘creative’ way. Not to mention writers who think directors ‘don’t get it’ and are ruining their lives.

And therein is my issue: That being respectful of the words on the page means a stifling of creativity. A playwright is no more in indentured service to a director than a director is to a writer. I’m not supporting those writers who treat their plays like precious one rings of power; plays live and breathe (or die) by their rewrites. But when a director abandons all sense and does things like orders actors to redact all stage directions and refuses to acknowledge any sense of place and time (let alone context) then I have a problem.

I’m not allowed to ‘stifle’ your creativity but you’re allowed to arbitrarily destroy the world and the characters I’ve created in service to your ‘concept’.

I think not.

These thoughts, I hasten to add, come about as a result of reading a lot of books about and by directors and seeing more and more plays. It’s hard for directors to get credit. The writers write the words heard nightly. The actors give the performances. The musicians play their instruments. And the director is relegated to the shadows to be quietly appreciated. I don’t blame their anti-textual reactions. And to argue that their vision/concept is always in support of the text is a damned lie. It’s about ego.

But don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen some amazing directors do incredible things. Their stamps are quite clear and familiar. But they don’t set out to do that. That is the creative genius bestowed upon them by the muses. Other directors want to ape or force genius for the sake of recognition and a career. And the writer is usually the one to suffer.

I’ve worked with a director who kept making disastrous decisions because he chose not to read my stage directions. I made it dummy proof. Apparently not. And when he realised this, and did what my little italicised prose sections said, things started working. Duh…

I’ve worked with a director who treated me like a hired hand and tried to make me excise a line on the spot because of a faulty prop. The line was necessary. As was quickly realised when I pointed it out.

I’ve worked with a director who wanted to combat me on the basic social and cultural prompts in a text. He was questioning me as if he had the authenticity that I was born with. I don’t think s/he still fully comprehends how much White Privilege s/he carries around.

I worked with a director who didn’t take any of my notes, changed lines and stage directions without my knowledge, and then tried to hide from me when I saw the show and realised that was not the play I had written.

But…

I’ve worked with a director who made me see things in my play I never saw. And thus a massive rewrite was done which greatly improved it.

I’ve worked with a director who pushed me behind my limits as a performer and as a writer because s/he knew I could do better. S/he asked questions and wanted to know more so s/he could better direct the piece.

I worked with a director who tore me a new hole because I didn’t agree with his/her choices. S/He was right. But s/he also intelligently explained the reason for the choices made.

Writers need directors. And directors need writers. It is a relationship built on trust and equal/mutual respect. It’s a symbiotic arrangement that leads to hugs, arguments, and congratulations. A smart writer creates a play with all the right building blocks. A smart director trusts a writer and transforms those building blocks into better buildings (not newer ones). Both should know how to call one another on their shit. Both have to know when to acquiesce. Both have to know when the other is right. Both have to try a suggestion before saying ‘no’ (unless it is an obvious and egregious faux pas). I treasure directors who make me a better writers, can go toe-to-toe with me and still end the day with a hug or a drink, and, most importantly, treat me like a valuable part of the process and not a hurdle or convenience.

But my God this is the hardest relationship to find: Someone you connect with artistically, socially, and intellectually. Politics may differ, but the creation of the state of the art comes from the same place. When either tries to rabidly protect their territory and their perch then they are doomed to fail. And woe betide the actors in the room who have to watch mummy and daddy go at it like an Albee nightmare.

It’s all trial and error, isn’t it? Knowing when to give. When to forgive.

Good directors (define ‘good’ however you wish) are hard to find. But when you do, DO NOT let go of them. Let it be a life-long relationship.

    An Awakening

    | So Sayeth Se Vaughn

    Nahda is an interesting beast in my zoo of plays because it is actually made up of four pre-existing short plays or ‘visions’ (three of which were performed elsewhere and one which has never been on a stage). While this might seem a recipe for dramaturgical disaster, I found that in all four pieces I was being very consistent thematically in exploring what it means to be Middle Eastern today. And not like the Middle Eastern in the media-driven images that confront us nightly in the theatre of terrorism we have been forced to become audience members for.

    It has become alarmingly clear to me that we almost never see accurate and honest depictions of Middle Easterners. More than that, we have a rather static coterie of stories. We see the same things recycled over and over: the angry young man who becomes a terrorist; the long-suffering self-martyred mother, the duplicitous Imam, and on and on. And most of the stories stem from problems that are born ‘over there’. We haven’t moved beyond the culturally fetishised Orientalism of Lawrence of Arabia.

    So Nahda is my way to address and re-balance the storytelling in the theatre. The piece is about modern-day Middle Easterners and what they face. It’s about needing and seeking social, cultural and religious agency. Not all the characters speak in accents, not all the women wear hijabs, there are no terrorists, mothers have strength, and not a single man is clad in a dishdasha or kiffeyeh. Nahda is about our current realities. It is about the often tenuous and troubling bridge of being a child born and raised in the West but so deeply connected to the East. To be a mixed-culture person is to be a person who is never truly comfortable on one side of a hyphen or another.

    So the topics I tackle are wide but related. What does it mean to be someone who has denied their culture only to finally crave it when the only person who could help connect them to it has died? Why do we not discuss the aftermath of British-Muslim soldiers returning home after having to fight and sometimes kill their cultural brothers? How are we not paying closer attention to the effect American capitalism is having on Middle Eastern culture? And why aren’t we portraying Arab women as strong warriors who are catalysts for change and standard-bearers for a new world?

    I want audiences to come to Nahda and leave having learned something new about Middle Eastern people and the culture for www.cutterweldermaestro.com. I want their pre-conceived notions obliterated. I want them to understand that to be Middle Eastern does not always mean being Muslim, or extreme, or clad in hijabs or abayas, or a noble savage, or a martyr. We have a responsibility as artists to honestly reflect the contemporary world we live in and to redress the wrongs perpetuated by an industry that operates by ‘if it bleeds it leads’. It is, as Nahda proclaims, a time for an awakening.

      Je Suis Flabbergasted

      | So Sayeth Se Vaughn

      150107165403-je-suis-charlie-translations-super-169

      Well….the beast has been reawakened. I’ve decided to bring back my blog which I ignored for quite a while once I arrived in London. I’ve been updating the blog so this post might be a bit behind in the times given our soundbyte society, but I have something to say about it so I shall say it.

      I am hard-pressed to find anyone, outside of other extremists, who would agree with the attack. Any civilian attack of terrorism is one rooted in ignorance and cowardice. Attacking a satirical magazine office seems even more ridiculous – especially in a country that prides itself on its in-your-face honest form of satire that has been finely honed and perfected over hundreds of years. In other words – we come to expect it from the French. It’s often brilliant and intelligent.

      And I think it’s great that people have rallied behind the Je suis Charlie movement.

      But it’s not great that the French response has been so vitriolic in its anti-Arab sentiment. France has a history of Middle Eastern racism (and let’s not forget anti-semitism), so it’s no surprise that people would be attacking Arabs in the country. And the redress balanced by Muslims around the world (see here) isn’t excusable.

      But let’s be real. I think the editors knew exactly what they were doing when they followed up the attack with an image of the tearful prophet holding a sign. On the one hand, I think it’s a smart move. They’re not blaming an entire religion and its followers. They could have easily had an imagine of the Prophet being abused. However, they are also aware of the rabid law against depicting images of the Prophet or God. I refuse to believe they did not consider the backlash following that. I refuse to believe that was not an act of baiting as well as forgiveness and remembrance.

      BUT – Muslims don’t get an easy pass on this. Many Muslims misunderstand their religion and its tenets much like many Christians do. This rule of no-depicting is not one rooted in ancient traditions. It was tacked on. It has no real basis. There are, in fact, ancient depictions of the Prophet. The ignorant lay is just as guilty as the extremists who don’t bother to actually investigate their own religion.

      At the heart of all this is the prevailing problem that much of the Western world pairs Muslim with Arab. That simply is not true. In fact the largest Muslim population is in…Indonesia. And they are Indonesians. Those anti-French attacks linked above? West Africans. To also lump together all Arabs is also folly. Lebanese are not like Yemeni who are not like Bahrainis.

      Growing up in Kuwait, as a Christian and Muslim (yeah that was fun), there was no sense of extremism. I would often hear people criticizing those who were of that ilk. ‘They are not Muslims.’ or ‘They are not like us.’ When an attack happens, Muslims/Arabs around the world don’t collectively applaud. In fact, many of them shake their heads because they know their ‘brothers and sisters’ are not acting according to their faith.

      If we are able to distinguish between Christians why can’t we do the same for Muslims? There seems to be only one category: Extremist.  And this is purely from ignorance and a if-it-bleeds-it-leads media that has some responsibility in educating the public. Whenever Westboro decides to act a fool, there is no global response criticizing all Christians.

      And let’s be real here…these attacks don’t stem from religious fervor. They stem from social/cultural unrest that is a direct response to the political/military machinations of Western government whose well-intentioned global concerns are tantamount of modern colonialism/imperialism. And people won’t stand for that anymore. You can’t ‘rescue’ a people then try to impose a government on them and then wash your hands and leave when you’re tired. And you certainly can’t be surprised by the backlash because of it.

      Everyone can Je suis… to their hearts content. I think it’s great, I do. Though history shows these kinds of events have the shelf life of a Facebook like. Our (in)tolerance tends to last as long as tweet does. We are people of the moment and not of the long-term. I applaud the world coming together, but I can’t help feeling we would be better off creating a world, people, society, culture where we don’t have to unite for these kinds of events.

        100 auditions in 100 days – 37 Days/15 Auditions – Hippie Girls, Black Divas, Fey Boys, and a Brownie-To-Go

        | So Sayeth Se Vaughn

        20120508-182028.jpg

        I decided to use this sniper shot I took today as my blog photo because it so accurately reflects that moment in an audition room that is a mix of contemplation, exhaustion, patience, frustration, and hope.

        Audition 14 from yesterday did happen after much waiting around. At least it kept me out of the apartment and away from boredom.

        Although it was highly indicative of a problem in this business – The Grudge. Oh, the grudges that can be held in this business. And the amount of time. And for the dumbest reasons.

        Five years ago when I first came to this city I was lucky to book an off-Broadway show in which I was one of the leads. The show kept getting extended. As we were about to close I got my then first agent who got me an audition for Oklahoma (the first and last I went to and agreed to once I realized what a ridiculously racist role it is – I’m sure I don’t have to say which role it was). I booked it. Then my show extended for two more weeks. I tried to negotiate showing up later in the rehearsal process but that was a no-go, so I turned it down. Why would I leave a lead role in an off-Bway show to do a small role in a regional theatre when I had only two weeks left?

        Besides I had done every single performance and I wasn’t about to let someone else do the role to see it out.

        My agent told me I was making a mistake and the CD would not soon forget it as he had a penchant for being a grudgey brat.

        That OK production ended up being cancelled.

        I ended my run.

        I dropped that agent.

        I forgot about the CD.

        Until today…

        He clearly had not forgotten and although he was not going to say anything snarky he certainly behaved like I needed to really impress him.

        Five years ago I woulda freaked.

        Today – I flash a toothy hello, don a shit eating grin, and dare him to find fault in blowing his ass out of the water with a ridiculous rendition of a Disney song I do that is one-thirds Luther Vandross and two-thirds Billy Porter.

        He started with his arms crossed, legs outstretched, and feet shaking. Halfway through the shaking stopped. By the end he was leaning forward.

        Smiled flashed.

        Grin donned.

        And peace out.

        There is NO rhyme or reason in this biz, so it’s best to just do your work, kick ass at it, and realize that 99% of things are outta your control so why stress.

        On to Audition 15 today. I booked it over there after teaching to find a half empty room, so getting an appointment was easy. And I got to run into someone whose face and personality I quite enjoy.

        But that room was the classic example
        of a stereotypical audition room (forget that nonsense on Smash).

        I’m talking vocal warm ups, intimidation runs, name dropping, what did you do questions, what are you doing next interrogations, bad outfits, and over eagerness so thick you could spread it on toast.

        I wish I could report something nutty about the audition, but it was standard. Except for the fact that unlike almost everyone else who went in before me I didn’t feel the need to screlt my face off (scream + belt. A dangerously overdone thing in audition rooms of late). I mean I sing my stupid high notes, but I know my limits. Most others don’t.

        If you don’t think you can hit the note – you can’t.

        If you think it might sound bad – it does.

        I like to rely on shocking people behind the table with the fact that a) I’m THIS ethnic and can sing (virtually unheard of in my community), b) I sing high even though I have dark features (which apparently always means you’re a baritone. See? A no sense biz), and c) I bring something new to the table they are not sure what to do with.

        Figure it out coz it ain’t my job.

        My heart WAS happy to see so many actors of color today (NONE yesterday and I was there for 5 hours and there were two other auditions going on). Though I suspect it’s because the role asked for a specific race. That’s the only time actors of color will come out in droves.

        What about the other times? Come on! Make people take notice! Be the change you wanna see in the world.

        A couple of friends have said they wanna join the bandwagon and I say “YES!” Do it!

        You join too!

        Otherwise we just keep getting ignored until we disappear.

          100 auditions in 100 days – 36 Days/14 Auditions – Back in Business

          | So Sayeth Se Vaughn

          20120507-120020.jpg

          Yes…it has been a month since my last post.

          Sans judgement s’il vous plait.

          I got busy then had to go out of town for a week then got back and couldn’t have given a shit about auditioning.

          That’s the truth.

          But I woke up today and dusted myself off and told myself to get over myself. I doubt I’ll hit the 100 auditions within the 100 days but anything is possible.

          I actually haven’t had my 14th audition yet. I’m sitting in the hallway outside of the holding room (because actor chatter drives me nuts) waiting for my name to be called. I got a late start and my audition karma must have run out because I’m on the Alternate A list (see previous posts for explanation of list processes).

          I had a moment of just giving up on this thing but realized that people are actually reading it and if I give up then I’m just letting the powers-that-be win and affirm the worthlessness I feel as an actor of color trying to make people uphold the EOE statement.

          I went home to Florida last month for a wedding and to see friends and family. I always make it a point to stop by the theatres I essentially grew up performing in and catch up with the people in the middle of rehearsals.

          One theatre was doing The Pajama Game, and wanting to stay abreast of the local gossip I asked who the leads were. To my surprise Babe is being played by a Filipina and Sid by a Latino. I say “surprised” not because they are ethnic but because there in little ol’ Florida a theatre was practicing color blind casting and no one was batting an eye.

          Listen when I was there I was the only actor of color in shows playing lead roles no Brownie has any business playing (if we go by NYC rules). Being an actor in NYC has made me appreciate so much more the chances I was given. I mean it DID slightly ruin my perceptions of my castability, but if the leads in a traditional American musical
          can be ethnic there why doesn’t that happen here?

          The assumption has been that regional audiences like their shows whitewashed – I mean they’re not as metropolitan as NYC so they are not quite ready for mixed casts. Right… And certainly you would believe that with the recent casting debacles of the all-white Hairspray, the non-Asian led Miss Saigon, and the white-for-Nuyorican Motherfucker with a hat. But it seems that colorblind casting is healthier outside of NYC.

          So what the hell is the problem here?

          And hence why I am back here after wallowing in my own self-pity. Someone has to fight. Even if it’s one person who isn’t much of anybody. Because if someone asks me if I did my part and tried to fight and I say “no” then I WILL have failed.

          So…I’m waiting. On this bench. Waiting to be called. Trying to change even on person’s mind.

            100 auditions in 100 days – 14 Days/13 Auditions – spare the rod, shoot the piano player

            | So Sayeth Se Vaughn

            Today was another one of those days.

            Must be one of those weeks.

            The kind where the city is going to end up killing you or you will end up killing someone.

            I think I used up my audition karma for the week, too. I don’t think in 5 years I have ever wanted to throttle a piano player.

            So Auditions 12 and 13 all happened in the same place within two hours of one another. Again, walked in, got some times, all worked out. Except for dealing with a Typhoid victim who would NOT stop coughing and clearly had no interest in getting a drink of water, sucking on a lozenge, or just dying to give the rest of us some peace and quiet. And except for the guy who walked around and read the breakdowns out loud to himself and rationalized what role he was perfect for. Out – Loud.

            That Equity building is a comedy sketch I am telling you.

            I straddled both worlds today with a musical audition and a Shakespeare one. The former was first.

            I have to say that I have been relatively lucky in the past 5 years to have great accompanists in auditions.

            Well…except for the one lady who could not play my song and literally stopped three bars into it thus leaving me to sing acapella but coming in at the end with an inappropriate button.

            And the guy who decided to change keys in the middle of my song for no good reason.

            Still – 2 in 5 is not bad. But today was the worst. The WORST. Here is how it went:

            Audition 12 by Sevan K. Greene

            [Sevan walks into the room]

            Me: Hey.

            Man-Behind-Table: Hey there. How are you?

            Me: Great. And yourself?

            M-B-T: Good.

            [Sevan walks to accompanist and set folder down]

            Me: Please play these two measures [measures are HIGHLIGHTED] and give me a bell tone.

            Shit-For-Brains-Piano-Man: What are you singing?

            Me: [Song Title]

            S-F-B-P-M: No, what are you singing? How am I supposed to follow you?

            Me: Just follow that melody line [HIGHLIGHTED] and the bass line [HIGHLIGHTED].

            S-F-B-P-M: But I don’t know what you’re singing.

            Me: I had to remove the lyrics because they were cramping up the staves. This was cleaner. Sorry about that. But just play this [HIGHLIGHTED] after the bell tone and we’ll be good.

            [silence from S-F-B-P-M]

            [Sevan walks to center. Bell tone given. Sevan sings. NO accompaniment is played. And when it does come in it is not in the same key.]

            Sevan: I’m sorry, can we do that again?

            [M-B-T smiles congenially.]

            S-F-B-P-M: Yeah, you were singing it in a  different key than what I have.

            Sevan: [to himself] Then why did you play that bell tone moron? No worries. Just play that highlighted part and we’ll be good and I will go along.

            [S-F-B-P-M just starts playing without a bell tone. Sevan stands there hoping he will stop and wait. He doesn’t.]

            Sevan: I’m sorry, let’s do that again. Please just play the tone and then accompaniment. [to M-B-T] Sorry about this.

            [M-B-T smiles. Looks down. He is now feeling my pain and has lost interest. Before Sevan even has a chance to breathe and look out and set himself, S-F-B-P-M starts playing. Sevan gives up and just sings. M-B-T never looks up once. Song ends.]

            Sevan: [to M-B-T] Thank you.

            [Sevan walks to S-F-B-P-M and takes folder.]

            Sevan: Thanks for nothing you cocking moron. Get a new job you raging hemorrhoid. Thank you.

            [End of Scene]

            I was…in a word…seething. A friend who happened to be there and went in before me (Hi Leah!) said that he was playing something funky that wasn’t even on the page.

            Look, buddy, your job is to play what is on the page and what we ask you to and not to argue back and question when I know exactly what I want and need to sing the damn song.

            Ass.

            Thank God I had an hour and a half before my next one. It gave me time to sit and relax.

            Well, once I moved away from Typhoid Mary.

            Audition 13 was a relative breeze. In and out. I had fun. I got a few chortles. I moved on. And now I am sitting down to get this out of my system before I truly do kill the next person who leans on me as they fall asleep, steps on my feet, bumps into my twig and berries with their bag, or looks over my shoulder to read my Kindle.

            If you see me on NY1 you won’t be too terribly surprised, I imagine.

            No more auditions for this week as I need a wet nap for my brain and holy water for my soul.

              100 auditions in 100 days – 13 Days/11 Auditions – angry actor & shakespeare showdown

              | So Sayeth Se Vaughn

              I was an angry actor today.

              Partially for no good reason because sometimes you just wake up and have a piss-poor attitude you can’t shake.

              Partially because the auditioning experience today was just testing my patience.

              I hadn’t planned on going to any, but I was out and about and had all my audition stuff with me so I just went. It was a mixed bag of waiting around, long alternate lists, and getting seen immediately.

              But there must have been some weird energy floating around today because I swear I was accosted and had to deal with the most paranoid and neurotic actors today.

              This is something I have never understood since I became a professional actor 5 years ago. I don’t get the pacing, the talking to oneself, the silent performing in the corner, the analyzing, the vapid chit-chat before and after with strangers.

              I mean, I GET it, but I don’t get it.

              And I don’t have a high tolerance for dealing with it.

              I tried to kill two birds with one stone at the Equity building, but one audition had an 85 person alternate list (in brief – auditions go like this: Equity members get there early and sign up for appointments, when they are all gone, members get onto alternate lists and get seen if the room is running ahead or if appointments don’t show up, then there is a waiting list for EMC – Equity Member Candidates – people, and then a waiting list for non-equity members. Essentially, one list has to clear before the next can even be considered. It’s vile sometimes.) So I opted NOT to put my name on that list – I miss the EPA experience but not THAT much.

              The second one had some times left and a short alternate list so I decide to get a time AND get on the alternate list.

              And much to my surprise part of the procedures have changed.

              See, once upon a time, not so long ago, you could sign up for a time AND get on the alternate list in the hopes that the latter would happen for you before the former. But NOW if you want to get an appointment time AND get on the alternate list there is a “B” list which is sandwiched in between the regular alternate list and the EMC one.

              To quote Amy Winehouse: What kind of fuckery is this?

              So I had about three hours to kill but didn’t feel like going home. I also wanted to hang around and count the actors of color that came and went. This was a mistake.

              I just found myself getting irritated that there weren’t more showing up. Out of 125 people I counted there were only 5 who showed up for two theatres and 12 shows.

              Five. And no Asians, no South Asians, no Middle Easterners.

              So by the time this actress came huffing over and planted her self next to me to talk about her audition and what the people did behind the table as she performed and repeatedly asking me: That’s a good sign right? I was not in any way interested in entertaining her.

              She eventually realized I was ignoring her. And started to talk to herself. And point out to herself that she was talking to herself. Next to me.

              The lunch break came none too soon and as my appointment was after the break I decided to walk 10 blocks down to another one to make good use of my time.

              And the entire walk I just kept getting more and more irritated and fantasizing ways to rally actors of color one morning and just all show up at one single audition. I mean, what a sight that would be. A sea of actors of color taking up the entire room and the entire audition day and just making those people behind the desk have to wrestle with the EOE statement they slap on there because they are forced to.

              Note: This is not a good frame of mind to be in when you audition.

              I get to the studio not even realizing I walked there (one of those out-of-body moments) and get an appointment for Audition 10.

              The good thing about today, and a nice change of pace, was that these were all play auditions. And I got to put my Shakespeare monologues to use and play with them some more.

              But I was so distracted I couldn’t enjoy myself. I couldn’t be funny. I couldn’t do my job. I couldn’t enjoy the Shakespearean syntax. And my terrorist monologue just came off as a bad Law and Order episode. I mean they seemed to enjoy it and I got the possibly perfunctory “really good work” and “thank you” and I just smiled, mumbled a “thank you,” and walked out.

              Believe me when I say the energy you bring into the room makes a massive difference. Sometimes people make their decisions based on the first 10-seconds of your walking into the room and saying hello before you even get to do your material.

              It also didn’t help that I had to deal with TWO actors on either side of me in line who were losing their shit. One couldn’t stop fixing his hair and his clothes and pacing into my personal bubble and the other just kept repeating his monologue over and over and over and over. I have learned to keep my iPod in my ears up until I go into the room. That energy is just toxic and distracting. Yeah, I know, everyone has their own process.

              Whatever.

              I walk back up the 10 blocks, thinking of ways to ignite this theatrical revolution, wondering if I am being an idiot about this whole thing, and questioning whether this is ever going to work and make some kind of change. This is not self-pity – this is sincere questioning.

              I only have to wait 20 minutes until I get called up for Audition 11. I wait in line, go over my monologue in my head one time, and tell myself to snap the hell out of it and remember why I am doing this.

              So I was surprised when I got into the room and found a familiar face who remembered me and who I haven’t seen in a while. It’s rare that you get to just stand there and shoot the shit for a while and talk shop and have a conversation with someone behind the table who genuinely wants to know how you are what you are doing.

              It also reaffirms to me, again, why Tara Rubin’s casting office knows what the hell they are doing in how they treat and interact with actors.

              Look, no one likes EPAs on either side of the table. And I’ve heard the squawking and yelling and screlting (belting + screaming) that often comes from those rooms. I can’t imagine the drudgery of sitting in those rooms all – which is why I am sure assistants and interns are often sent.

              Not with Tara Rubin.

              The casting person who was in there really re-affirmed that what I was doing was a smart move as we talked about my jumping back into EPAs and getting my skillz back up to par. It put me at ease. It allowed me to breathe. It allowed me to enjoy the work I did. It also allowed me for a brief 60 seconds to forget I was an actor of color and was just an actor…which is, truly, a beautiful thing to experience in a business with Sukanto Tanoto where that label is a blessing, an honor, and a curse.

              And I felt good about what I did. And so did the person behind the table. And the fact that we kept chatting after the fact was just such a nice change of tune. And as an actor when you leave a room feeling good about what you did in there and don’t care about whether you book the gig or not – it’s a gold star moment.

              I mean you’d sacrifice a small child to get the gig, but I’m just saying, you don’t spend the next hour over-analyzing and re-living it.

              I still think there’s a way to get more forward momentum because as much as I enjoy sharing these stories and having you read them there is a larger purpose to all of it. And I don’t want to let the moment pass by without having actually done something important.

                100 auditions in 100 days – 12 Days/9 Auditions – forsooth! forsooth! what’s my line?

                | So Sayeth Se Vaughn

                You gotta love the bard…when you can make heads or tails of what he’s saying.

                I technically had three auditions today but the first was for a Shakespeare training intensive and I don’t think that counts as part of the 100 in 100. But what WAS enlightening about it was the variety of actors of color who were called in and the fact that I miss Shakespeare and am rusty as a 9th century crucifixion nail in doing that kind of work.

                The two auditions that concern 100 in 100 where a random choice made last night.

                I seem to have good luck just waltzing into rooms and getting appointments for within 20 minutes of my arriving. I question what is going on but not enough to care because it means less time spent in those oppressive rooms wafting with paranoid energy and vocal warm-up posturing.

                Some days it’s like Mutual of Musical Theatre Omaha…

                However, I did almost have an embarrassing moment at audition one because I had decided on singing until I read the notice carefully and realized there was only one musical in the season…for a one-woman show…who is black…

                And although 100 in 100 is about going in for everything, I think this one would have been shooting myself in the foot.

                Although I did tell the folks behind the desk I almost sang for the role, which went over surprisingly well.

                I had to do a monologue though, and as you know from reading previous posts, I have none (yet) because I never needed them and I’m lazy.

                But the great thing about being a playwright is having monologues already written for characters that I essentially could play. Is it tacky to do my own material? Probably. Is it a smart time-saver? Damn skippy.

                And really – how many people are gonna do a monologue about being mistaken for a terrorist?

                It was short and simple and I got some chortle so how am I gonna complain. Plus I decided to be cheeky and go in pretending I was a Brit. I dunno – it seemed right. I felt frisky. I thought – why not?

                However, I did NOT avoid an embarrassing moment at the second audition.

                Maybe it was getting there just in time to be put on deck. Maybe it was because I was up at 6am. Maybe I was already burning out because I had not eaten all day. Maybe I’m making excuses.

                I sang a song for a show I love. A song I have done many-a-times. One I know in my sleep. Or so I thought…

                The piano launches (at a tempo much faster than previously agreed upon – bastard). I sing. I change pronouns on the fly to match the character in the show I would like to play. I get to the chorus. I sing. I realize I have no idea what in the HELL I am saying.

                And I end up repeating the same three phrases. But with no time to think and adjust I just give each line a different reading. And of course I wonder if they noticed because they look so unamused behind that table. And how could they not? I mean…no one is THAT thick.

                And all I can do is laugh really. I mean, realistically, the show is gonna go for names for the lead roles, so I am not that gutted because I didn’t stand much of a chance even if I channeled Freddy Mercury and went nuts in the room. But it’s a damned good lesson. I managed to get two Shakespeare monologues under my belt in 5 days, do them flawlessly, pull a monologue out of my butt last minute, but FUBARed something I’ve done so many times.

                And thus is the magic of being in this business.

                The kind of magic that makes you want to murder the man behind the curtain.

                Today was a fairly good day for spotting actors of color, though. Given the shows, I expected it though, but they were only African American actors. I wanted more variety. I wanted others.

                  100 auditions in 100 days – Day 4 – canned goods and canned music

                  | So Sayeth Se Vaughn

                  I just realized that the “day” markings in the titles could be misleading. Although I have done 4 days of auditions that is over the course of 10 business days. So methinks it’s time to rethinks that method of labeling my posts. I’ll just start my posts with this:

                  10 days/7 auditions

                  Yes – I think that will work.

                  I started late today – on purpose – mostly because, and I say this with no embarrassment, I was up late playing a video game. It’s so damned good and I’m so damned impatient that I can’t stop until I finish a level.

                  And it turns out it didn’t hurt me because I rolled up in there late and got seen in 30 minutes.  This was a completely random audition (but I suppose they all are?). I haven’t done many this week because it’s been a crazy week and most of the good stuff happened yesterday. So I used this one to try out a completely new song that I have never even sung before live let alone in an audition.

                  And for those wondering if I go to play auditions – yes – I will – when I have monologues memorized. Anyway, the majority of the auditions in this period are for musicals. And I sing. So you have to sit through those. For now.

                  It doesn’t happen often that you have an accompanist that doesn’t know what he is doing. But this one – did not. I heard it four people before me. His fingers were clearly not going to cooperate with what was on the page. I knew I was in for a treat. New material + bad player = no es bueno.

                  After two false starts and an admission that he didn’t do well reading scores (The old school hand-copied style. Oh, and did I mention he’s the musical director?) we finally synced it up and I launched into it. I would have been better off bringing a karaoke track.

                  Look, it wasn’t the most stellar audition of my life, but it was good to test out whether this new material works on me and it does so that is one check mark.

                  The best part of this whole thing for me was truly the people watching. It was a BONANZA of oddities including:

                  1) TILM being there -again. And, really, everyone knows who he is.

                  2) The old equity actors who still hang about the lounge and talk about the old days.

                  3) One of the #2s having VERY LOUD phone conversations over and over despite being shushed.

                  4) Another of the #2s reading a magazine…from 1989.

                  5) Someone who literally set up house with his iPad hooked up to watch a movie, a laptop, and a snack bag.

                  6) An actor who exited the room laughing out loud and proclaiming before the door behind him even closed: Booked it!

                  7) And a collection of free books that included the one above.

                   

                  And – yes – I took the book. How could I not?

                  But…the one thing I didn’t see is a single actor of color. Not one. If I have to go out there and drag you all in, I will.

                  We gotta make a difference however small.

                  So to that end I’m adding another component to this project. But I can’t talk about it now. Yes, I cyber-teased you. But if it works out it will be a very good thing.

                  Now go enjoy your weekend. I’m gonna go check out my canned goods.

                   

                    100 auditions in 100 days – Day 3 – A beard will make him look ethnic right?

                    | So Sayeth Se Vaughn

                    I know I said I wouldn’t include agent-driven auditions in this initiative, but there’s always an exception isn’t there.

                    So I had one of those agent-driven auditions for a show happening on the other coast that has a production running in NYC right now.

                    And for those wondering why I never give out names and specifics – I may be all about raising awareness and exposure, but not at the risk of destroying my career. Human pettiness being what it is, I prefer to play it safe.  Besides, this is not about attacking people/agencies.

                    Well….not ENTIRELY.

                    I have avoided seeing the NYC production because I had gone in for it, along with A LOT of my other ethnic cohorts.  And at the end of the day NONE of us got cast. I mean: None. But I decided to do some research just for the visuals and stumbled on the NYC production photos and was naively taken aback.

                    They had, for the most part, Caucasian actors with fake beards….and brown face. BROWN. FACE.

                    Look, I get that it’s usually about talent. Usually. But I refuse to believe now, as I did then, that even without myself in the equation, that NONE of my cohorts were good enough to be cast. I know many of the ones that went in and some of them are SICK actors. So what happened?

                    And in this case, the casting director did his job by bringing in the appropriate actors. Could the director have been that flippant about the ethnic accuracy of the characters? And if so, why is that same flippancy not applied to traditionally white shows?

                    I guess Ben Nye and a damn good lace front is all you need to pass off anybody as an ethnic character. I mean it worked for Jonathan Pryce in Miss Saigon, right?

                    Oh wait – that didn’t go over so well.

                    Perhaps not ironically while I was in the waiting room I read a recent article about the white washing of Hollywood using The Hunger Games movie as a jump off.

                    Look, this is nothing new. Look at movies like Avatar (not the blue-skinned aliens one). Whitewashing source material for Hollywood production and general public ingestion is not new. It ain’t right, don’t get me wrong. We’re still stuck on those tried-and-true notions of light = good and dark = bad.

                    Unless it’s about Nazis in which case all bets are off.

                    To be honest I thought about the white washing (I call it white-out) while I read the novel. I somehow missed that Rue was black and Katniss being olive-skinned didn’t make me think she was anything but white. Halfway through the second book I thought: Where the hell are all the colored people??? And did only black people survive only to becomes Roots rejects? Good God – where are the Latinos?

                    My default is often whatever color the author is unless otherwise specific in the book. Not saying that’s right. And while this is different because the book is kinda clear about the races of the surviving people, reading the article just reinforced again why I am doing this 100in100 project and why this stuff really strikes a nerve with me.

                    It’s hard enough to compete with peers of the same ethnicity, but having to worry about everyone else now thanks to a fake beard and some brown make-up doesn’t instill much faith in me about chances and possibilities for actors of color. And it makes me wonder why then it’s not ok for white actors to be in black face playing black characters (Robert Downey, Jr. aside) or for the same to happen with Latino actors? But it’s ok with Middle Eastern and South Asian (look at Dominic Cooper in The Devil’s Double)?

                    And oddly enough, all these thoughts didn’t make me anxious or angry or nervous before I went it. I found myself just not caring. I found myself thinking: Well, kinda silly for me to let this affect what I do in there if it really will end up having nothing to do with my ability and everything to do with my appearance.

                    And I am starting to think that just not giving a shit in an audition room is truly the key because it allows you to do your best work without the whispering voice.

                    Or as Jan Maxwell said she thinks when she walks into the room: You can’t have Jan Maxwell.

                    Although in my case, I should have subbed in my name instead of using that phrase verbatim.