Kimmy in the City

I thought I’d dedicate this post to my fellow recession auditionees. As you can tell from my earlier posts, being in theater is tough enough when the economy isn’t a giant pile of feces and there are more than 2 regional theaters open around the country.  I know this economy is hard on everyone bla bla bla, but I must say we have it the worst.  In recent years, I would simply wait for appointments from my agent, and every once in a while scoot into a chorus call when I couldn’t get appointments.  For those of you who do not know the equity theater audition process, it’s broken down like this;      

If you cannot get an appt from your agent, you sign up on a list the week before the aud and show up that day to get your number. Easy as giving a snickers to a fat kid, right?  Well, since 29834729834723 regional theater’s have closed and the ones still not bankrupt are casting primarily non-equity performers, we sad, broke actors are desperate to work.  So now we are auditioning with the mass influx of recently unemployed broadway actors as well as the usual 300.  Going to a chorus call (which is what many of us have to do now that agent appointments are becoming scarce) is like volunteering to have your arm amputated….without anesthesia. 

    Here is a typical day at a chorus call:

Walk into grossly overcrowded 400 degree room packed with sweaty, annoyed-they-have-to-go-back-to-chorus-calls women who have just woken up and are likely to be wearing curlers and a half face of makeup lugging a giant suitcase full of dance shoes.

The monitor begins reading the 45699298987 names on the list while people push forward to try to hear their name called

There is nowhere to sit, so you cram between two girls you think can support your weight. When your name is called (always at the end) you trip, scramble, push, and choke people to get from the back of the room to get your card.  

You are sweating profusely.

Your card reads 306.  Awesome.

Now you fill out the lame chorus call card with every show you have ever done bla bla bla.

Then you wait……and wait…….and wait.  At any chorus call  you are likely to hear the following topics from the people sitting around to you;

1) Shows they’ve booked.  

2) Shows they’d like to book.

3) Shows that they were down to the VERY end for. And they swear that the only reason the other girl got it was because she knew the director.

4) Diets they are on.  

5) Diets they have tried.

6) Diets they want to try.

7) How fat they are.

8.) Where they got their highlights and tanning bed package.

9) That they heard from Bob who heard from Fred that this casting agent wants to hear legit today. Then will repeatedly ask each other what they plan to sing.

10) How their rep book sucks and that they have no music.

11) How fat they look in this dress.

12) Gossip about other actors. 

13) How they hate the business. 

14) Discussions about alternate careers (subsequently all landing on ones that actually pay LESS than theater, if that’s even possible…ssssssh don’t tell them)

15) Their sex lives. 

16) Their agents.

17) Musical theater men who aren’t gay (this is usually a short conversation).

18) Being in debt.

So, your number is finally called (16 hours later) and you get in line to sing 6 bars of music (the equivalent of 3 words in a sentence).

 You wait in line then open the door to a room full of casting people so bored they want to stab themselves. They are probably also eating sandwiches and Facebooking while you stand before them.

You open your mouth and sing.

You are finished 4 seconds later.

You thank them.

They ignore you.

You leave the room as the next girl walks in.

You  swear you are changing your profession tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes. You go to a chorus call.

I have included some pictures indicative of the mood at recent auditions (generously donated by Ashley Linton)