Theater is a very big part of my life, and I love everything about it. Ok, I don’t really love drilling lines into my brain, I wish they would stick without much effort. But it’s a small sacrifice for everything else. People ask me why I do theater, why I love it so much. And my answer is “It’s a chance to escape your own problems for a couple hours and just be someone else”. There are many many more reasons. But where else can you become someone else?
Ok, I suppose identity theft and double lives could fall under that category.
Where can you LEGALLY become someone else?
Well, I suppose if you change your name…
Anywho.
The part I hate the most about theater is the very first step: the Audition.
Auditions are terrifying. At least to me. There are those out there who really enjoy auditioning.
Sickos.
I’ll take my most recent case. Stageloft Repertory Theater is putting on William Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet. Who has two thumbs and wanted the part of Juliet really really (almost too) badly? This girl. It’s one of the few great female roles in Shakespeare. Men have Hamlet, Macbeth, Richard III, the list goes on. Women? Not so much. There are a few, but with men filling all the roles on stage back in Shakespeare’s day, the demand for great female roles wasn’t as important.
My biggest worry going into this audition is that Juliet’s age is called out in the play. She’s a mere 13 years old. My time was running out to play her. I have confidence in my acting abilities, especially with Shakespeare, but age and casting I have no control over. I could give a great audition, but if there isn’t a “Romeo” in his 20s to match me, I’m sunk.
So what do I do?
Convince my handsome and talented 20-something husband to audition with me. He was wavering about the idea, I just used my womanly wiles to tip the scales in my favor.
Audition day came and we headed to the theater. We saw friends and past castmates who were also auditioning, which lightened the mood. I flashed back to a year before, when I was stepping into this theater for the first time to audition. I knew no one, and it was scary! It’s no longer scary, but I still eye all the strangers (particularly the competition), and wonder how good they are. How good will their readings be? Auditions make me paranoid and extremely self concious. I’m not proud.
I was pleased with how my readings went, so I left feeling quite confident. We went out to dinner with friends and discussed and overanalyzed what we thought would happen. The director told us we’d hear the next day, or the day after. Thus began the worst part of the whole audition process. The Wait. The Wait is why I always try to go the last day of auditions, and if appointments are scheduled, at one of the last times. I can’t stand the Wait. My brain goes into overdrive, analyzing my performance, the comments made by the director, the competition, and convinces myself one minute I have the role and the next that I’ll be devastated.
I was on the edge of my seat the whole day at work. Every time the phone rang my heart raced. But the call didn’t come. The Wait was killing me. I’ll admit, I became a little obsessed. That night I went to a cafe with friends, and my phone sat front and center on the table all night. I may have poked it several times, saying “Ring darn you!”
Again, I’m not proud.
Midafternoon on Day 2 of the Wait my work phone rang and I see the director’s name on the caller ID. My heart is racing as I take a deep breath and pick up, chirping “This is Briana” in my most nonchalant, not-freaking-out-over-casting voice.
“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks, it is the east, and Juliet must be who I’m speaking to!”
All air escaped from my body and I started smiling like a goon. I may have worried a few passersby.
The Wait was over, and the role is mine.
Who is my Romeo? Let’s just say it won’t be too hard to be in love with him.
Can I say one thing? Being a judge is HARD! I wish everyone could win. I do not envy Angie and Amy their job in narrowing down the finalists, and the weekly judges who have to decide all on their own. And the hardest part? Refraining from commenting on other blogs. I tried to remain as anonymous and mysterious as possible, even though my fingers itched to type in the comment window. Next week I’ll go back to being a regular old contestant, but the comments and encouragement will live with me forever.