Chorus Call Chaos
Another day, another audition. I have this new motto (that I've actually scrawled out on an index card and tacked on my wall): "Try harder. All you can do is try."
So in the spirit of trying harder, I'm trying to attend every open call I can that has a part reasonably within my limits.
Today's chorus call was for the Broadway revival of an old chestnut, which was actually the first musical I was ever apart of (Hint: Starts with an A and rhymes with fanny).
There were over 450 girls on the pre-sign up sheet; they had maxed out all their potential appointments, not to mention at least twenty equity members not on the list and an entire gaggle of EMCs. To cut down the number of auditionees, since so many of us actually showed, they "typed"us.
They line the girls up and parade them into the audition room in groups of twenty. As you stand there, merely presenting what you look like, they sort through the stack of headshots and decide who'd they like to see audition, based on their "type" or look.
I arrived at the audition about ten minutes early to hear the monitor announce that they were indeed typing. Of course no one wants to go on the subway and walk around freezing cold Manhattan in their cocktail dresses, so as soon as they made the announcement, it was a mad flurry of 400 girls getting dressed. Every corner of the bathroom, hallway, waiting room was strewn with coats, heels, curling irons, makeup....you get the picture.
I managed to get dressed, makeup'd, and comb my hair within ten minutes. It was a miracle.
I slapped my lipstick on just in time to join the type-casting parade.
They didn't want to see me; thus I was "typed-out."
On one hand, this is a frustrating process because its entirely out of your hands. Its based solely on your appearance and if that matches up with their imagined look for the production. On the other hand, it keeps everyone from wasting their time, if their look isn't compatible with the production.
This is my second experience with getting typed for a Broadway Production contract. New lesson learned today: Get ready at home before you turn up for a Broadway Chorus Call.
At first I felt a little disappointed that I didn't even get seen. I lugged a heavy bag into the city, I woke up early, I commuted in mid-town. Then I went back to my mantra: all I can do is try. I tried today, and so my work is done.
So in the spirit of trying harder, I'm trying to attend every open call I can that has a part reasonably within my limits.
Today's chorus call was for the Broadway revival of an old chestnut, which was actually the first musical I was ever apart of (Hint: Starts with an A and rhymes with fanny).
There were over 450 girls on the pre-sign up sheet; they had maxed out all their potential appointments, not to mention at least twenty equity members not on the list and an entire gaggle of EMCs. To cut down the number of auditionees, since so many of us actually showed, they "typed"us.
They line the girls up and parade them into the audition room in groups of twenty. As you stand there, merely presenting what you look like, they sort through the stack of headshots and decide who'd they like to see audition, based on their "type" or look.
I arrived at the audition about ten minutes early to hear the monitor announce that they were indeed typing. Of course no one wants to go on the subway and walk around freezing cold Manhattan in their cocktail dresses, so as soon as they made the announcement, it was a mad flurry of 400 girls getting dressed. Every corner of the bathroom, hallway, waiting room was strewn with coats, heels, curling irons, makeup....you get the picture.
I managed to get dressed, makeup'd, and comb my hair within ten minutes. It was a miracle.
I slapped my lipstick on just in time to join the type-casting parade.
They didn't want to see me; thus I was "typed-out."
On one hand, this is a frustrating process because its entirely out of your hands. Its based solely on your appearance and if that matches up with their imagined look for the production. On the other hand, it keeps everyone from wasting their time, if their look isn't compatible with the production.
This is my second experience with getting typed for a Broadway Production contract. New lesson learned today: Get ready at home before you turn up for a Broadway Chorus Call.
At first I felt a little disappointed that I didn't even get seen. I lugged a heavy bag into the city, I woke up early, I commuted in mid-town. Then I went back to my mantra: all I can do is try. I tried today, and so my work is done.
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