A Humbling Experience

Continuing with the theme of Humility (apparently), I was a guest on a show this past weekend on WGN Radio. It was one of those deals where the host helps promote a theatre show by having the actors do a short excerpt. The performance went fine, but what stuck with me was how VERY different live radio broadcasting is from, say, commercial radio voiceovers. I was frankly in awe of our director, who's done live radio before, because he was so... um... "immediate", I guess. He could verbally react — seemingly within a nanosecond — of any question put to him, and coherently as well (no "umm" or "ahh" spacefillers). Matter of fact, one of my fellow cast members was asked a question on air, and though they answered after maybe at most a second of thinking how to respond, both Host and Director went into a happy riff about how brain-dead theatre actors are in the morning.

Then there was the issue of my headphones. I figured they'd be dead until we went live, so I wasn't concerned that I couldn't hear anything beforehand, but when we did start our segment my cans were still dead and I felt helpless. I looked to the booth for the sound engineer since, in commercial voiceovers, the engineer is god-in-charge-of-all-equipment (and woe betide the actor who messes with anything), but the engineer had actually stepped out of the booth and was nowhere to be seen. I made a motion to our director indicating my plight and he — with not a little exasperation on his face — calmly walked over and twisted a knob that was basically right in front of me. That brought up everyone else's voice in my ears, but strangely not my own, so I just forged ahead and made guesstimates as to how far I had to be from the mike to keep from blowing it out on some of my louder lines (from talking later to those who heard the show, I apparently succeeded in this).

Between these experiences and numerous small other instances during that hour or so, I came away feeling like a bit of a moron, at least when it came to live radio. Which, since I'm a glass-half-full kind of guy, isn't all that bad — it's good to keep your talent and experience-to-date in perspective, and realize that you have much to learn from other performers and in other areas of live performance. Humbling experiences can be good teachers. In fact, I daresay the line between "humbling" and "humiliating" is just how well you're able to put your ego aside so you can draw good information from the whole thing.

I'm big in Peoria, y'hear me? BIG!

Had a voiceover session today. Two radio spots for Well Known Travel-Related Company. I realized afterwards — and especially after filling out 9 pages of contract paperwork — that nearly everything I've done in the last year or so has aired out-of-state, with many of them airing (ironically) in the state where I grew up. An odd consequence of this has been that my parents hear and/or see me all the time, so they think I'm a HUGE success.

Can't say I'm disappointed or ungrateful for this perception, considering many actors spend nearly their whole career trying to curry favor, or least acceptance, from their parents. It's just a little bizarre considering the size of the checks I collect (i.e., small, at least compared to national work).

So, to complete the picture and put the finishing touches on my odd emotional state, I got an email note a couple of weeks ago from the curator of the county historical museum in my hometown. Seems they're putting together an exhibit of "Famous Entertainers From Our County", and they want to include me. Few are the times I've ever laughed and cried at the same time, but this was one of them. I'm so flattered, but I feel certain that I'd be a wholly inappropriate addition to the exhibit. (And I don't think that's false modesty — there are some fairly famous people from my neck of the woods.)

Whatever... I put a headshot and my demo DVD into an envelope, along with a letter saying basically what I just said above, and mailed it off. Posterity can sort it out.

Answering a few questions

I feel guilty about pontificating about earprompters in a comment I just left on StoryActor's blog, so I'm going to try keeping this post short.

In response to a request from the same fine actor, here's the short-and-sweet about name changes and how I got my start:

I actually started in Hollywood. Went to school out there, graduated, and tried to fight my way through the wannabes (refusing to acknowledge I was one myself, of course) just hoping that persistence and pluck would pay off. I could say a HUGE amount about it, but I won't right now. Bottom line: I didn't have my union card, so I was an Abomination Before God.

So I looked around for a market that would give me more-results-quicker and allow me to get my SAG card. Ended up moving to Chicago, and nearly every experience Story is having sounds intimately familiar to me. Have to admit that it took a little while before I was able to sort out the difference between myth and reality (during which time I worked some fairly ignominious gigs), but eventually I landed a regional commercial (my Taft-Hartley gig) then a national about 8 months later (for which I joined SAG). Problem is, I didn't want to give up the momentum I'd built up in Chicago by moving back to L.A. (an almost guaranteed result), so I stayed where I was "successful".

Regarding my name, while I was living out in L.A. (a good five years of my life), I discovered there was a very well-known scene designer in the movie industry with my name. Only the middle initial was different. He was also a member of SAG (long story about that...later). Then I found out he had inserted the middle initial in his name because he was originally a stage actor in NYC, and someone with his first and last name (meaning mine as well) was already a member of Equity. So I realized fairly early that I'd have to change my name before joining the unions because, of course, I wanted to join them all.

When the time came to finally join (I joined AFTRA first, actually), I had already met and married Cherokee, so I took one of her names for my own (checking first to make sure that none of the unions already had such a person). So imagine the expletives that issued forth from my lips when I found out that, in the time between my joining AFTRA and then SAG, some kid with my name had joined SAG! And by "kid" I mean exactly that — he was some child actor who had gotten a single role in a SAG-jurisdiction project. So I ended up having to insert my middle name into the mix until this kid's parents finally decided (last year, in fact) that Junior wasn't going to be a star, and it was too expensive to continue renewing his Vanity Card (that's what we call people who hold onto their union card because they somewhat bizarrely think it confers on them credentials as... I dunno... a celebrity, I guess; SAG's full of 'em).

By the way, that's one reason there are so many "3-name actors" out there. The singer Tom Jones was already a member of SAG, so the young upstart by the same name had to become Tommy Lee Jones, for instance.

Well, I broke my promise and ended up blabbing at great length. Sorry. I'm off to rehearsal now. We're doing a put-in for one of the understudies.

Welcome, I guess...

First, I just want to say "hi", "thank you", and "welcome" to anyone who has left me comments in the last few days. I may have mentioned this earlier, but I — perhaps stupidly — haven't expected to get any reaction from my inane ramblings. I started this as sort of a diary for the sake of my own sanity, mostly because it's difficult to deal with some of the duality I find myself living, so I rather find it hard to believe my private musings would be of any interest to others. I know this blog is publicly accessible, but hey... so is the guy standing at State and Madison shouting into a bullhorn at passersby — that doesn't mean I wouldn't rather listen to grass grow than listen to him.

Regardless, if for some reason anyone finds themselves actually reading these words and devoting more than one brain cell to their comprehension... uh... "Welcome," I guess.

The new development with my show is that the producers have decided to create a full cast of understudies, which is almost unheard of for a non-Equity show here in Chicago. Of course, in order to attract people to this difficult and thankless job, they're having to guarantee them some performances, most likely at some of the more lucrative out-of-town gigs. I really, really don't mind having an understudy ego-wise, but I dislike the idea of them cutting into my cash flow. Purely selfish, I know, but I'm having a hard enough time justifying my doing this show to Cherokee, some of my agents, friends who are stuck thinking all theatre has to be transformative, etc., and the paycheck has always been the best way to shut up any objections.

What I need right now is for five degrees of separation to disappear and move me straight into my next serendipitous out-of-the-blue opportunity...

Midway

We're midway through an 8-week run, and things are going well from an appreciation standpoint — audiences are enjoying it, spreading the word, and we keep having to show up at the theatre to film promos, do interviews and whatnot.

The only bump in the road so far (and it's a big one) is that one of our cast keeps getting sick and missing performances. In the world of Chicago Theatre, understudies are few and usually found only in the largest, most prestigious venues (primarily because it's a crappy job and hardly worth doing even for union scale; more on that some other time). In this particular case, what's been happening is the producers have been sending a non-actor onstage with a script, and they've been reading the part during the show. The audience is notified beforehand and given the option to take a raincheck, but — surprisingly — most people have stayed for the performance anyway, and things have seemingly turned out well, all things considered.

Still, at this point, 25% of our scheduled performances have either been done without a full cast or — in the case of the first weekend — cancelled entirely. I am, of course, concerned about my sick fellow cast member, but past a certain point our performances stop being a heroic story about "the show must go on" and just become plain unprofessional and bad business. A case in point this last week was when one particular ticketholder, hearing that there was going to be a non-actor non-understudy reading the role, angrily demanded her money back and left because this particular performance WAS her raincheck — she'd come once before, been told there would be an emergency put-in, and had decided she'd rather come back later and see the whole (presumably healthy) cast. Well, it was 3 weeks later and the same sh** was still happening, so she left in a huff. It would be a lot easier to dismiss this as an isolated incident, or toss it off as more her problem than ours, if it weren't for the fact that this particular patron was an employee of HotTix, and in a position to recommend shows to all their patrons. (HotTix, for those who don't know, is Chicago's version of Broadway's TKTS — you can get last-minute tickets to a variety of shows, and they do a brisk business with tourists).

That incident alone probably cost the producers a substantial amount of money and, possibly, affected the long-term viability of the show (the producers wanting to turn it into a franchise of sorts).

All sorts of lessons to be learned here, not the least of which is that it's called Show "Business" for a reason (something actors today are told much more than they were when I started, but which they probably often don't truly understand). Another aspect is that it's a cautionary tale about how your actions have an impact on others. The producers are just as much to blame for not taking corrective action on this sooner, but — even if this is an entirely uncontrollable sickness that manifests itself without warning (fully deserving of my sympathy and understanding) — I'm still a little miffed that this actor didn't realize that they were, in a word, undependable (or at least potentially so), so that better back-up measures could be put in place. As it is, their sudden realizations that they can't go on (it's always sudden, happening moments before curtain or even between acts) create a situation that is unfair to the audience, unfair to the person who has to walk on in their place, unfair to the producers, and unfair to their fellow cast members.

And, unfortunately, it makes me think less of them as a person, rather than garnering my sympathy. I even find myself wondering about the authenticity of these attacks since, outwardly at least, they do not seem to be making an effort to follow their doctor's advice. Also, when an attack comes upon them, they make no effort to treat their supposed symptoms — they just decide it's over and throw in the towel.

So yeah, I'm concerned about this person, but I also think there comes a point when you have to cut through the backstage drama in order to ensure the onstage drama can continue.

Laughter and Tears

Well, my show's been open for a full three weeks now and it finally seems to be settling in somewhat. It's been something of a challenge because the playwright continues to think of it as a development piece, so changes and adjustments are still being made. The usual scenario in professional theatre calls for changes such as we're being asked to make to continue only through Previews and maybe into Opening Weekend, but then the show basically gets turned over to the actors (with the AD/SM then having the responsibility to keep the show up to snuff, but nothing beyond that). It's essentially like corking a bottle of wine — a show needs to age in the bottle, so to speak, to reach its full perfection.

Regardless, the Tribune reviewed it favorably, so audiences have been building. Although billed as a comedy, the fact of the matter is that it's not uproariously funny, just pleasantly amusing throughout — until the end. In the final scene, we sort of throw a sucker punch and it's darn near impossible for the audience to keep from breaking into tears. Happy tears, but tears nonetheless. (Maybe "sucker punch" isn't quite right. Actually, it's more like going to a movie about a cute dog. You know, in the back of your mind, that there's a good chance you're going to end up crying over that damn dog by the end, but you're willing to take that risk in exchange for laughing at his antics the other 99% of the time.)

So this past weekend we had a group of 30-40 teenage girls in the audience, and they all sat together House Right. Normally I don't allow my focus to stray out into the audience very much — whether you might consider it a blessing or a curse, the modus operandi that works best for me is to include their reactive energy into the performance but keep them firmly beyond the fourth wall for a show like this — but this night I couldn't help but be more than usually aware of them because they were not reacting in synch with the rest of the House. Lines that scored a hearty chuckle from the House-at-large merited only a scornful snicker from their group, while some of the more sophomoric humor was met with peals of laughter from that quarter but silence from the larger body.

Anyway, we got down to the final moments of the show and, for whatever reason, this group intuited earlier than the rest of the audience where we were headed and just began sniffling en masse. It's a quiet-ish moment on stage, so I could tell that suddenly we actors were kind of sharing attention with the "Teenage Girl Chorus" as the rest of the audience began wondering why the heck the people in House Right were crying.

Oh, but wait... now The Girls have become self-conscious about their sniffling and have started to look at each other and laugh at how easily they've succumbed to mere emotion. Time to regain their composure and once again become Hipper Than Thou Chicks.

Which... (sniff)... would be a whole lot easier... (sniff)... if the action on stage that had made them cry in the first place weren't continuing to develop and, omigosh-here-we-go-again...

And so it continued — crying spate, laughing jag, outright weeping, group giggling — with hardly any need for us actors to do more than say our lines in order to inflict heavy casualties on their composure. In the end, we all came off stage and agreed, for lack of a better summation, that we had done our jobs and that they'd been a good audience.

But...

I can't help feeling a little like a stand-up comedian who knows that even his crappiest material will fly if he's not the first act on stage — i.e., drunks are pushovers. Similarly, I have the oddest desire not to perform this show for groups of teenage girls anymore. That, of course, is entirely out of my hands, but I can't express how odd it is for this adult male — who admittedly suffered plenty at the hands of teenage girls when he himself was a nerdy/awkward/unpopular teenage boy and who has furtively sought to win the approval of young women ever since to salve his overt feelings of inadequacy — to suddenly find himself NOT wanting anything to do with this particular subset of the citizenry.

It's weird, yet somehow uplifting...

Been Awhile...

...since I updated this. The show I'm in has opened, although the producers chose to make Opening Week more of a set of previews than anything else. Press Night was this past Friday which, all things considered, was a good performance. Both of Saturday's performances went well, but I felt horribly off on Sunday — the first act in particular — which sucked because there were a couple of critics in the house, including the Tribune. That was also the performance that Cherokee saw, so I'm kicking myself.

Backstage drama to date: We had to cancel both Saturday performances the first week because one of the actors passed out backstage. They couldn't do it Sunday either, and we did the show with an understudy performing "on book". No idea what health problems led to this happening; the actor in question did all of last week's performances fine.

Then another actor — one I have to kiss onstage — came in with a head cold this past Saturday, so of course now I've got it. And wouldn't this turn out to be the week that not one, but TWO advertisers decided to audition for a new national spokesperson? "Buy Acme Brand, because (cough, hack, wheeze) it's better!"

I hate it when I give sub-par auditions, even if there's a good reason. I just couldn't turn it down, though... Murphy's Law of Auditions says that it's often when you're feeling your worst that you turn in your best work. Well, today Murphy can suck eggs.

Sorry for the Edge

Been re-reading some of my postings below and I'm struck by how crusty I sound sometimes. I don't want to give the impression that I dislike acting, actors, producers, or the business in general. What I find myself growing more and more impatient with these days, however, are some of the excesses and attitudes that prevent our business from receiving the respect it deserves.

Of course, I'm not kidding myself — there are people out there (many of them) who are just plain never going to respect actors, acting, or the performance arts in general as worthy of the sobriquet "real jobs". And, frankly, there's little we can do to convince those people otherwise. What we can do, however, is deserve their respect, whether they give it to us or not. That means, for instance, that we shouldn't bait them, demean them, or reinforce their stereotypes.

So if, sometimes, I get a little thorny over something, it's usually a reaction to sensing some form of disrespect, and I apologize if it comes off as anything else.

Not much happening over the last week commercially. We're now two weeks away from opening the show I'm in. I'm getting antsy because we're still receiving rewrites, and no one has committed any part of the second act to memory yet.

Things Proceed Apace...

Man, the guys in charge of the show I'm in really know how to market. All of it high-class, all of it ingenious, most of it high-profile as well. As near as I can tell, none of it seems "needy" — an affliction which affects many a Chicago storefront theatre. (Most pathetic are the ones who stand out on the street in Wrigleyville, cadging a moment to pitch their show. I've done it before elsewhere, so I understand the whole dynamic, but it's soooo self-defeating. The worst part is they seem to feel it almost makes their show a new and exciting form of guerilla theatre simply by how it's hawked.)

The show itself continues to develop well and, frustrating as it is to not be off-book yet, even given our overly long rehearsals, I think we're pretty much on schedule for the opening. One other cast member bugs me with how staccato they deliver their lines — it's like it's all consonants and no vowells — but no other major worries at this point.

Quite a few voiceover auditions last week, but none has resulted in a job yet. One on-camera audition for the World's Dullest Industrial.

When It Rains...

I had a higher-profile theatre call me yesterday and "offer" me an audition. I put that word in quotes because it seemed apparent from the get-go that the caller expected anyone he called to fall over themselves for the opportunity to read for a part in any play they chose to produce. Normally, I just note this attitude and put any irritation at it aside because, frankly, it's not entirely unjustified — many, if not most actors would fall over themselves to audition for a show at a prestigious venue (e.g., Steppenwolf, Goodman, etc.).

Still, it annoys me that actors are sometimes their own worst enemies by wearing their desperation on their sleeves (to say nothing of the fact that they feel desperate to begin with), and it annoys me when producers/directors exploit this, thinking it's the status quo. Add to this the fact that the fella on the other end of the phone was calling from an Equity house but said the show was "non-Equity with pay", and I had the definite feeling that the guy was deliberately Name Dropping With The Intent To Exploit (sounds like something illegal, and sometimes I think it should be).

It's silly, and it's petty, but I basically just gave back as good as I got, telling him, "I'm sorry, but I'm replacing Famous Chicago Actor in (play title) which will be going up at Well-Known Chicago Theatre during the rehearsal and performance period you're mentioning." I think I took the guy by surprise, because there was a beat, then he broke out into a pretty hearty laughter. I felt laughed-with, as opposed to laughed-at, so I think we both realized we were playing a silly game. We both eased up on the attitude, then, and exchanged some pleasant chit-chat before hanging up.

Voiceover auditions yesterday for Multinational Car Company, Regional Restaurant Chain, and Nationwide Department Store. First two went well, but the last was a bear, despite it's being perhaps the most straightforward in delivery.

Back Home

All went about as well as could be expected on the shoot. You hope you gave the client what they wanted, and you keep hoping they'll specifically say so, but the fact of the matter is that nearly everyone has their mind on something other than your performance, including the director usually. (It took me several gigs before I caught onto that one actually.) Basically, if they don't seem to be getting frustrated at you, and they eventually say they got it and move on, I figure you've done your job. To expect anything more is just a fragile ego talking.

Saturday I had a first read-through for this play I've committed to. Always interesting to look back on early impressions and early promises and see what actually panned out, so — for the record — I like all my fellow cast members at first glance, and the writer/director doesn't seem to be prone, as near as I can tell, to the stereotypical pitfall of being a "writer/director", i.e., valuing his own script over the production of it.

As far as early promises go, tentative plans call for an 8-9 week production at an extremely reputable venue in Chicago, then 2 weeks at a stage complex in an outlying area, followed by 4 weeks out of state. We'll see how much of that pans out and, if it does, how much money will trickle down to the actors. Pardon me for being mercenary about that last part, but one of the best experiences I've ever had theatrically was this killer lead I had in a well-known show that ran for 6 weeks in Chicago several years ago and then toured Europe — at a final cost to Yours Truly of about $5,000. I'd be lying if I didn't say I loved the experience, but it figured heavily in my coming to realize that I could call myself an actor all I wanted, but I wouldn't be able to call myself "professional" unless I was actually able to make a living at it. Looking back on it now, I have to say that was a good thing to realize; my life (and my art) have been better for it since.

And the Fun Keeps Happening

I'm writing this from a hotel room in Indianapolis. Why? Because I landed that commercial for the Regional Bank. Actually, I landed both it and the industrial I auditioned for the same day but, as they both shoot tomorrow (Thursday), I had to let one go. Nothing against industrials or the people who cast me -- it just came down to a choice between a half-day's session fee under AFTRA, or a full day under SAG (with travel, residuals, credit toward health benefits, etc.)

Anyhoo...

The shoot is actually scheduled for Thursday night, starting at 8:00pm and running into the wee hours. The client's put me up in a downtown hotel with free high-speed Internet access (yay!) and a suggestion that I sleep away as much of tomorrow as possible. If I'm not mistaken, this is the first out-of-town overnighter I've had since I was in "The Big Show" (more on that later) and, while this is something of a come-down, I have to say that I was not only missing it but I actually think I like this set-up better -- i.e., a business-oriented hotel versus something 4-star, driving my own car (even if it's a rental) versus being chauffeured in a limo, free Internet versus a swimming pool, etc.

And, of course, I'm looking forward to working tomorrow night.

New Show

So it turns out that the last-minute audition for that paying theatre gig came through for me. I got the call over the weekend, and our first read-through is this coming weekend. It's kind of odd — I'm in that stage of "what have I committed to?" that follows casting and precedes actual rehearsals.

Apparently only 2 people were seen for my role, which is a pretty major character. I arrived early at the audition and, since the director did too, he saw me before my appointed time. I felt like it went pretty well — I maybe talked too much, but the writer/director somehow had the mistaken impression that I was primarily an improv actor, and I felt like I needed to set the record straight. Then I go to leave, and who should walk in the door but a very well-known Chicago actor. By "well-known" I mean someone who has name recognition within Chicago from appearances at Steppenwolf, Second City, Goodman, one-man shows, and/or multiple Jeff awards. (This, in fact, perfectly describes the actor who vacated the role we were auditioning for.) So I figured I was sunk.

Well, for all I know, I was. The part may have been offered to this other guy first, but he turned it down. Regardless, the role is mine now, so I guess my evenings are taken now through July.

Funny How Things Work Sometimes

So I get a call from my agent yesterday, telling me I have a callback for the Regional Bank commercial and, simultaneously, placing me on "first refusal." Basically, the client is saying they tentatively want to book me before they even see the callback. I think that's the first time this has ever happened to me, and I'd be flattered if I wasn't actually pretty sure that all it really means is that the client is covering their bases -- there are probably multiple people under "first refusal" with me.

Regardless, I go into the callback today and get the lay of the land. Callbacks are usually an opportunity for the client to narrow down their casting choices, and for the director to see if they can work with the talent. Only the director was there and, all things considered, it went fairly well, but the thing that stuck out to me was the director asking me to comb my hair because, with my bad dye job, he and the client both thought it looked like it could be a toupee.

Kind of ironic that a mistake on my part that would normally limit my employability is possibly working to my favor in this case.

Then, immediately following that callback, I had an audition in the same office for an industrial. I read twice, the second read being better, but the shoot dates conflict with the shoot dates for the commercial spot. Normally, I'd think I was sitting pretty, thinking I'd probably be shooting SOMEthing soon, but Murphy's Law says that what'll probably happen is that neither gig will cast me. We'll see...

I also got a call today from a playwright/director who is looking to cast a replacement for a cast-member friend who isn't available to do a summer run of this guy's play. So I've got a cold reading audition for a paying theatre gig tomorrow.

See Spot Run

I found out today and over the weekend from friends and family who are living in a particular state that one of my regional spots is running again. My agent told me back in January that the client wanted to resurrect this particular spot (after having let it lapse for 8 months or so) but I had no confirmation it was running until now. Kind of a funny spot, too, so I'm happy.

But, of course, exposure is a double-edged sword.

For those who don't know, acting in commercials is one of the few jobs where the better you do, the less you're wanted. Sounds counterintuitive, I know, but look at it this way: If you were the manufacturer of, say, a popular soft drink, would you want the actor who played Mr. Whipple as your pitchman? (Provided, of course, you remember who Mr. Whipple was.) That's why, except for the Celebrity Spokesperson genre, most advertisers want "complete unknowns" for their spots. That's also why, for all the fun-verging-on-abuse that's poked at "high-priced actors" for supposedly reaping huge windfalls from commercial residuals, the system is actually based on fairness. Speaking as one who has, a few times, received national exposure in a commercial and then suffered through months of being unemployable (including one stretch of more than a year), I can verify that the "huge windfall" barely seems like adequate compensation for one who values work above fame (and let's face it -- being Mr. Whipple barely qualifies as "notoriety" let alone "fame").

So anyway, as I was saying, my spot is running again and I hope I'm not screwed. My character in this particular commercial is humorous, but ever so slightly creepy, and I can just imagine Bad Things happening if other advertisers take note.

"Real" Person

Had an on-camera audition yesterday for Regional Bank commercial. Went pretty well, although I can't help but wonder why it is so many directors harp on wanting "real people". I think what they're usually indicating by saying that is they don't want anyone overacting and, basically, they want the characters to be believable. Unfortunately, what often happens is the client gets it into their head that they can only get a "real" feel by casting non-actors.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that some people really can just walk in off the street and work 8 hours on the set of a commercial shoot, doing take after take, covered from all angles and distances, and come off believably. But, honestly, most people can't. I'd even say it's a large majority. I don't mean to put actors in a position that's more exalted than they/we deserve -- really, I don't -- but credit needs to be given where it's due. Actors earn their keep by taking someone else's words, or idea for a character, and executing them believably.

Anyway, I hope this Regional Bank got enough "real" people, so they'll stop asking for that. Perhaps next time they can specify "subtle" if they want something underplayed -- that's language we can work with better.

Bad Hair Week

Voiceover audition today at a CD's (casting director's) office. I was the youngest guy in the waiting room, but still felt old. Partly it was because the spot was for a Drug That Treats An Embarrassing Condition That Generally Doesn't Afflict The Young And Fit, but it was partly also that I knew everyone in the room by name and knew how much grayer they'd gotten in the 8 or 9 years that I've been at this. (sigh...)

The feeling of premature age was no doubt accented by the fact that I tried to even out my salt-and-pepper earlier this week but left the color in too damn long and ended up looking like someone 10 years older who wants people to think he's 20 years younger. Today I shampooed with Dawn dishwashing detergent, just to lighten up the color as much as possible. (Great lather, by the way, but it leaves you with the itchiest scalp you've ever had.)

Aside from today's audition (which I'm sure was a wash), I've had stabs this week at Ice Cream Store Chain, Eastern Amusement Park, and at least one other I'm forgetting. Felt good about these, which were held in my agents' office, but half the fun was really just hanging around friends who (today excepted) are at the top of their game and, perhaps because of this, are just generally fun to be around. We have at least two SNL alums, a host of Second City alums, and a buttload of folks who, like me, went through the Chicago improv scene as performers in their own right. It's like, really difficult to go into that office and not find yourself laughing at some point.

Jewtopia Morning After

Beats the hell outta me why I thought it was at the Apollo on Lincoln. I got there 20 minutes in advance, but there was no sign on the marquee or anywhere indicating the show I wanted was there. The look on the face of the girl in the box office was priceless, though, when I asked her, "Where is Jewtopia?" I could tell she was trying to work out whether I was an anti-Semite for a moment (at which point I realized how my question sounded), and then -- without taking her eyes off me -- she evenly said, "I don't know. Guys? (to her fellow box office personnel) Where is Jewtopia?"

"Is it a show?"

"Yes, it's in previews," I replied.

"Where's it playing?"

I paused a moment, waiting for them to realize they'd come full circle to the original question, but they didn't get it, so I said, "I thought it was at the Apollo."

"It's not."

"Okay, back to my original question, do you know where it is playing, or," I added helpfully, "is there a way you can find out?"

So this fella opens up a pamphlet, skims it for a moment, then tells me it's at the Mercury Theatre. Fortunately, the Mercury isn't too terribly far away, so I go tearing out of there and race on over.

In a nutshell, my friend was great in the role, but the show itself is a niche production. It's one of those shows like Shear Madness, Tony and Tina's Wedding, or Vampire Lesbians of Sodom that will probably run forever because it serves a specific audience that self-perpetuates to a certain extent, but it's not what I would call "great theatre". Truthfully, the moments I laughed at most were character-driven moments the actors had brought to the table, but rarely did I find myself laughing at anything in the script.

But then, what do I know? I'm just a goy.

04/08/05 Auditions

Voiceover auditions today for Ice Cream Company, as well as Cell Phone Company. Both went well, two takes each.

Jewtopia

Spent all morning at the DMV, dealing with Bureaucrats From Hell, so I'm looking forward to kicking back tonight at a preview for "Jewtopia" at the Apollo Theatre on Lincoln. A good friend and sometime business partner is in the show, and it's his first full-fledged Equity gig, so I'm happy for him. Expecting to go out for a beer afterward and talk about his experiences rehearsing in NYC, putting it up here in Chicago, followed by some catch-up regarding our nascent theatre company.