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Today I am going to do something I’ve always wanted to: I’m going to audition for a Broadway show. After foraging the notices, I settle on an Equity dancer call for the chorus of the upcoming Elf: The Musical based on the Will Farrell comedy of the same name, which I happen to love. That has to be a good sign, right? I arrived at 10am auditions at about 8:20. Made it plainly obvious to the lady at front desk, the guy in the elevator and monitor that I don't know what the hell I'm doing. After being pointed to the "holding room" (actually what it's called) I signed in on the handwritten non-equity sign in sheet.
Today I am going to do something I’ve always wanted to: I’m going to audition for a Broadway show. After foraging the notices, I settle on an Equity dancer call for the chorus of the upcoming Elf: The Musical based on the Will Farrell comedy of the same name, which I happen to love. That has to be a good sign, right? I arrived at 10am auditions at about 8:20. Made it plainly obvious to the lady at front desk, the guy in the elevator and monitor that I don't know what the hell I'm doing. After being pointed to the "holding room" (actually what it's called) I signed in on the handwritten non-equity sign in sheet.
#29.
I don't know if that's good or bad but I try to pick a relatively non-intimidating seat by a girl laying on the ground, holding her leg up to her head and reading a book who everyone else seemed to be steering clear of.
This "everyone else" is only about 10 people (I don't know what happened to the other 19) all looking suitably bored, wearing sweats or sundresses and some are listening to music. I clearly hear Next To Normal screaming from the earbuds of the girl a couple seats to my left. I pull out my iPhone, pop in the buds and for the second time since the train pretend to listen to music, thinking that I look more like I fit in and know what I’m doing. I’m too curious and nervous to actually listen to anything other than the occasional chatter around me which I greedily absorb.
More girls start filtering in. All in great physical shape but I'm surprised at how
few have makeup on and have their hair hanging like they just jumped out of the shower and are wearing jeans. Jeans? This is a dance call… I don’t know what their plan is but everyone seems to have brought big bags and backpacks so I assume they’ll change… right? Just what does this audition consist of? I just have my purse and came wearing my dance gear.
Stretchy girl finds a friend who sits next to me and they start chit chatting about yesterday's Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat auditions. She says the non-equity girls danced in a tiny room where they were seen for a total of 6 minutes. According to Stretchy they only kept two girls: tiny little blonds. She starts rattling on about how she hopes they want little elves at this audition. Our little Gumby is probably about 5' while her non-too-amused friend towers around 6'. She barely hides her dissent. They must not be too close.
As a matter of fact, I have noticed more and more of this: girls recognizing each other from past auditions or seasons, casually dropping names and what project they have been keeping themselves busy with, gently testing the waters to see if they are better off in this world than their “pal”. I start to notice that more girls have started doing stretches that serve no worldly purpose other than a friendly game of one-ups-manship. Something I thankfully took care of this morning back in New Jersey.
By 9am the place is packed. Girls have pulled out their makeup and are doing their hair and changing their clothes. Few seem to mind that they are doing so in the middle of a crowded room with an open door. They all seem to know someone now. If I had wanted to show how relatively inflexible I am I have lost my chance because the floor is filled with girls in positions you would only see in Yoga class or perhaps the Kama Sutra.
A girl comes in and takes "the list" off the table saying it's not allowed to be there because someone could tear it up and it's best if everyone just remembers their numbers. She puts it next to the table, onto the piano. I really don't see the difference but no one objects though she doesn’t avoid several smug sneers.
29. 29. 29.
When the studio is about as full as you could imagine it, a monitor comes in with the "official" list and girls rush to the front of the room. Ah, now it makes more sense. As I fight to hold my ground in line someone yells to the person in front to just transfer the names in order from one list to the next. The monitor says it's against the rules and each person has to do theirs themselves. There seem to be a lot of silly rules for an audition. How difficult can this really be? So now we're on the honor system and from the look in some of these girl's eyes, "honor" is not necessarily the name of the game as I watch three of them elbow their way to the front. I wonder how likely it is that I’ll be anywhere near the top of the list anymore. If they only take the top 30 and I was knocked from my space… I’ll be pretty ticked.
By the time I relatively patiently make my way up there, the space next to 29 is still blank. Huh. I did not expect that at all. I take another seat. Gumby is nowhere in sight.
The monitor then asks everyone who is signed in to leave until at least 10. Having nowhere to go, I claim a spot in the hallway with the rest of the homeless dancers. Many of whom continue their displays of seriously unnecessary stretches (Really? You think THAT is going to come in handy in this 2 minute routine in a call for “comedic dancers”?)
Girls are making friends. Earlier I had revealed to Gumby’s friend that this was my first Broadway audition and she shot me a humoring “good for you” then plopped on the floor to prove that she, too, couldn’t possibly be more flexible without actually flipping inside out – as if I had ever doubted it. At least this girl doesn’t pull out a novel. I'm scared that if I open my mouth again they'll scoff at me. I'm probably right.
The dancer to my left seems to be taking the whole thing with humor and a grain of salt. My kind of girl: I tune into her conversation as she calls a roommate to leave a message revealing that the equity list is already over 200 girls deep. I wonder where she gets her information. That's 200+ professional dancers who will be seen, then 28 semi-
professionals... and then me.
So things are looking just a bit bleak but who cares, right? This is not my
livelihood, just a curiosity… something I want to check off my own personal “bucket list”. I'm enjoying this…why? Mostly because I'm weird. It’s really quite hard to explain. I think about it while the clock ticks slowly on.
The monitor finally comes out at about 10am saying he was sorry but too many girls showed up so non-equity would not be seen and equity would be typed-out. (Which means they'll be looked at and those who don't fit the body type they are looking for won’t even get the chance to dance). The girls moan but no one seems too angry or even surprised as they gather their bags and bid adieu to their cohorts. This has happened before. Probably a lot.
So that sucks... And I have several hours to kill before the TKTS booth opens where I hope to snag some discounted tickets to a show tonight. I’m slightly disappointed but I get the idea that what I just went through was a pretty typical Broadway audition experience.
What's a girl to do, feeling slightly blue (and might I add, very well stretched) in NYC?
Retail therapy.
I think I'll survive.
Note: This was written on 9/15/2009. While I live and perform in Omaha, NE I was visiting family that week in New Jersey. Although professional-grade theatre is abundant in the area, there is little to no opportunity to (or use for) hold an Equity card in Omaha as performers are seldom paid. I'm working on changing that: www.thecandyproject.com
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