Once more, with feeling.

Auditioning for a play at Southampton at RADA in Gower St was a bizarre experience.  It brought back memories of auditioning there all those years ago.  Auditioning for drama school was like auditioning for jobs in some ways, but your attitude changes so much.  At that time, auditioning itself seemed glamourous and successful; a step in the direction towards theatrical glory; now auditioning is the obstacle to my glory and success.  It is the loathed, tiresome, ritual I must pretend I enjoy and am grateful for that is actually a process of humiliation and in some cases deceit.  Oh, I have lied along with many about how 'interesting' and 'relevant' the piece is; how different and 'exciting' it is to have a 'strong female character', who has 'depth' and 'complexity'; what an unexpected 'journey' the character takes in the play.  Oh yes, all tired cliches, but I believe in them totally when I say them.  It's only the claggy, metallic taste in my mouth when I leave the audition room, dishevelled and exhausted that points to any deception and subterfuge...

Luckily today I didnt have to lie at all.  I was auditioning for Adela in 'The House of Bernarda Alba'.  I'd never read the play or seen it before I auditioned and I was very impressed and genuinely excited by the play and the character.  This would be a great experience, never mind Southampton.  I was recalled today after a good audition on Monday when I had felt the enthusiasm and respect of the producer and director, so, for a second time, I arrived at RADA, full of expectation and hope.  My levels dipped when I saw a latin looking girl slumped on the floor holding a tatty bit of sides. She smiled broadly and chatted friendlily.  I have learnt that talking to people at auditions is a clever way of loosening up a bit and appearing natural and less nervous when you go in.  You can also gauge valuable information about the job, director and so forth.  This girl told me that the girl we were going to read with had actually got the part of one of the sisters and that we were all to read off the translation that the director would give us.  This was ok news.  The previous time i had been struggling to find my cue as the other actress had a different translation.

We talked, i used her to loosen myself up on.  I couldnt properly concentrate on what she was saying thought because i could hear another girl's audition loud and clear.  She was giving it the full emotional, latin treatment.  I hated it and i hated having to listen to her.  It reminded me of what i hate about lorca productions; the thoughtless over-emoting, the screaming and the pounding of breasts and heaving of chests. AGH. I was determined not to do that.  The girl came out of the room, her eyes bright.  

"I remember you from another casting... Shared Experience?''

''Oh yeah!!!''  I said, shocked and terrified that she remembered me and I had no clue about her.  "Bit weird that was  - here, this is the translation.  You know, it was totally different from mine and it kinda really threw me!!"

We went on to talk about work, whether we had had any, what we were doing. 

"Im not being funny, but do you know the Nuffield Theatre?''

"No.."

"Well; I think it kind of shows, I mean, I dont think they would be getting in this calibre of actor usually and it just shows how desperate times are.''

This was a slightly bitter tasting thing to say really, and, I think, really tainted my mood.

I read competently but restrainedly.  I tried to resist the temptation to sound like Angelina Jolie in The Changeling...the bits that tempted you to scream, i tried to translate into menacing growls, half-aware that i was only succeeding in this a tiny bit and taking a huge risk.  I had heard what other girls were doing and if that is what the director wants, shouldnt i give it to him?  He finally cut in and gave me some direction:

"Just do the beginning bit, up to there.  I just want to see you lose it, to really let rip with it. Lets see some real latin fire.''

'Latin fire'?  What the fuck.  Latin fire is the bane of Lorca.  If he had known that his plays were considered only within the narrow context of region and that some semi-racist assumption of character trait was whitewashed all over his delicate text I think he would be stunned.  Its like saying, ''lets see some German deadpan'', or ''French va va voom''.  Ohforfuck'ssake.  There is so much MOOOORE to the play, to the characters in this world!

But  I did what he asked. What else could i do? And really it wasnt going to make any difference or make me look any worse.  I had nothing to lose, except a sense of self-credibility.  I just swung my emotions like a dead horse over one shoulder and the next.  I launched into it, full voice, lacking integrity and any evidence of three years' training.  Yes, lets stay with that - because didnt i do three years training to emerge into the acting world a different actor?  A fully realised, risk taking and responsible actor who looks for the most interesting way to play lines?  That is all taken away when someone says ''do it all really emotional''.  

"Well, that was very interesting! Thank you so much for coming.  We are recalling four other girls. That is where we are at. We are trying to build a family''  Don't sound so smug and self-important.  You're putting on a play for two weeks. '' We recalled you because we think you are capable of playing the part, its just a question of who is right.'' This already sounds like a garbled apology, please stop. ''The answer now is in the lap of the gods. NO! Actually its in our laps. But. Yes. If it works out great, but if not, then something else will happen.''  He looked at me with a mild look of surprise, his eyebrows raising; that look adults get when talking to children about something they believe they know alot about.  I wasnt sure what he meant, but i nodded effusively, like he had just clicked a part of spine back into place and now i felt whole again. "Thankyou very much.  SO great to meet you.''  I wonder, if I had a penny for every time I....