Pass/Fail

There are really great tools for actors that allow them to get in front of agents and casting directors with just the click of a button.

For a small fee, of course. Still, that's a price one must pay when fighting your way through stacks of retouched 8x10s and revamped resumes.

Let's face it. The market is competitive, and not just for actors. When you're reaping 10%  commission from only 10% of your roster and every discerning gay could cast a show, why not spend your nights giving hope to the hams of Manhattan?

With my first few weeks leaving me feeling forgotten, I decided it was time to open my wallet and pull some pork.

Within five minutes of sitting down in a room stuffed with hopefuls, I had already thrown in the towel twice and thrown up in my mouth thrice. One girl was recording everything with a tiny mic hidden in her bra. She was concerned about its visibility, but her friend was only concerned that everyone knew she had been invited to attend this seminar by the agent the night before, at a masterclass he had taught.

When I can invite people to spend money to meet me again, I'll know I've made it.

So there was a Q&A and the handsome agent managed to make everyone in the room want nothing more than to have his hands on their headshot. This pack of pigs was cackling on cue and reaching for recognition.

I managed to not click my pen more than twice. Why I was holding a pen was beyond me since there was no paper. I thought perhaps some pearl of wisdom would appear and I would just scribble it on my forearm.

After the Q&A, I only had to wait an hour to sing. I spent most of that hour listening to one girl explain how she looks FAR younger than she is (she doesn't) and was having the hardest time finding the right heels (but chose wedges), given her calves are so fit from being a trainer and her heels are so sore form all the pilates. She wasn't sure which selection to sing, and spoke aloud as she attempted to find the perfect contrast of 16-bar cuts. She ended up singing what sounded like two full songs.

The rest of the room spent their time panicking that they would be cut off before they reached their 32nd bar and if they would catch the train back to Hartford.

I tried to remain calm. This was the first time since moving back to NYC that I felt I was in a race again and my rose colored glasses were quickly turning to jade. I looked down at my Northwestern University binder (maybe it's time to change that) and reminded myself that I had everything I needed to make this happen.

And then, I sang. I sang the song I knew would impress and I gave it everything I had. I wasn't nervous, I wasn't doubtful, I was only me. 

Agent: "Good. Do you WANT to sing something contrasting?"

Not since college had I been asked to be contrasting. I WANTED to eat a burger. I hadn't eaten anything in 12 hours. At that moment, everything inside of me crumbled as I sang a second song.

Agent: "I think I've heard that song before."
Me: "Oh, I'm sure you've heard it a million times."

I then managed to word vomit a list of every Broadway performer who had sung the song as if he was giving me a test of its legitimacy.

Agent: "...somebody recorded it."

This time, I only answered with one name and quietly said "thank you" as if I had passed.

I left the building with the new realization that I had fully hit reset. I was just thankful I looked far younger than I actually am and made a pledge to do more pilates.

That burger tasted AMAZING,

TJB: Making It

Big Fish, Bigger Emotions

The set changed every 3 minutes. For a large portion of the show, I wasn't sure if I knew exactly where the story was taking place. All I could tell is that there was a lot of money being pumped into it. The costumes, while beautiful, weren't very telling of a time period. Even the war referenced was left up for assumption. The setting had to be disregarded.

The songs were mediocre. While the voices may have been award winning, it was as if the actors were wasting their talents on something unworthy of their artistry. The story writing felt forced and weak, which I thought was strange for a musical based on a movie. Casting was predictable, as I had seen half the actors in the last show from the same writer. I suppose working with who's comfortable is expected.

In fact, I should have expected all of this. Many people had already given me their opinions on the show. By the end of the first act, I seriously considered spending the $8 for a 6oz. cocktail. But, my ticket was free, and I was extremely proud of all of the stress my friends had gone through to make this larger-than-life show a reality.

Then, the second act happened.

Suddenly, when faced with death, we find ourselves appreciative of everything we were too busy to believe in. Faith and love are no longer fairy tales, but the only reality we have. People that were simply "strangers we know very well" become the only link to ourselves, and it's when we're off searching for answers that we find there was never really a question to begin with. Still, even when we know how it will end, we're never quite sure how we get there.

I realized that I was watching my life. Only, I didn't want to keep sitting in the audience.

The set doesn't matter, that will keep changing. The costumes don't matter, as long as they look great. The year is irrelevant, since everyone (mostly me) generally looks the same regardless of time. There will be tons of money pumped into it and a lot of mediocre songs, thus, the first act will probably leave me bored and needing a drink. Yes, everyone will continue to give their opinion, but if I can keep working with who's comfortable, I'll be very lucky.

The facing of death will somehow remain an unpredictable piece of the plot. The audience will continue to not see this coming, which is sort of beautiful in a way. But it's always somewhere in that second act, where the stakes are raised and things get exciting, that we realize the banal necessity of the first.

In fact, if we could go back and start the play again, it might not seem so banal.

By the end of the show, I was a sobbing mess and re-inspired to enter the world. "A man is judged by the quality of his friends, and I am a tycoon". I figure, if I'm still in the first act and having such a blast

my second act is really going to bring the house to its feet.

Thank God my life wasn't Les Miserables,

TJB: Making It