Sorry for the late update – I’ve been busy shooting and editing Kevin’s movie, which is turning out pretty rocktastic.
It was a bright warm sunny late summer morning as I leaned back and perched my legs across the railing of our small balcony. Max’s deduced that the reason for our terrible cell phone reception in our apartment was not only materials used in building, but also the fact that airplanes in holding patterns over LAX conveniently pass right over us, and their radar has the added benefit of obliterating cell phone signals directly below it. While I can’t control the holding pattern, I can at least stick my head outside to make phone calls.
These phone calls in particular are to prospective actors, telling them I’m interested, and indicating a time and place for auditions. The initial cold call of a prospective actor is a lot like telemarketing combined with speed dating. You right away lay down the terms project details and time commitments, so if they can’t make it, they can tell you right away, rather than after your spiel. You thank them for their interest, and you also sum up a little about your project, because most actors frankly log onto the online casting services, scan for any part they could remotely play, and click the button indicating their interest. Absolutely none of them know what you’re talking about when you call and tell them the name of your project.
Hilariously, though, they try and pass off the fact they are clueless as to who you are or what your project is about with verbal acrobatics. “Remind me again, this was that project where…” and in that pregnant pause hoping you, charismatic producer you are, will jump in and fill in the details for them. Or maybe they’ll try and blind you right away with a “Oh right I remember this one! I thought the story was very interesting,” and hopefully the compliment will blind you to the sound of them furiously searching their notes as to what your project was about. Most refreshing are the ones who say “Cool – tell me about it,” and make no pretense of remembering.
The initial cold call process tends to be very long because there are a lot of people you see who you think might work for a particular role, and this even after you’ve filtered out hundreds of people for obviously being too old for the part of a “college freshman.” “Actors sign up for what they can play, not what they look like,” Kevin told me. “It’s because if they put down a set age, they might get passed over for a part they would’ve been great at.”
What’s even better is the actor headshots that you get on these websites are often nothing like what the actual actor looks like. They’ve often been photoshopped to all hell, and you end up squinting at the photo quizzically, doing double takes between the actor who just handed you their headshot and the actual human being standing in front of you. The initial awkwardness and stammering is often resolved because you are playing the role of big shot producer with tons of auditions and no time.
Most of our auditions consisted of us waiting around for actors to show up – six hours of this, about half an hour of which was spent actually doing an audition with an actual actor. Basically it was boringsville, but we had cereal bars and bottled tea to keep us company.
It’s also expected that you provide something in the manner of sustenance for your actors, usually bottled water or something (Don’t even think about soda, apparently, because actors are always watching their weight, I’m told), and something to nibble on, the key usually being healthy shit, as opposed to a big thing of Doritos and like eight 2 liters of Coke, which is another reason why I can’t be an actor ever. We decided Lipton’s iced tea and green tea beverages, as well as a smattering of various fruit cereal bars would make us at least appear semi classy (read; not cheap asses) to our actors. I found out later that a single green tea beverage actually ends up having more sugar than a 20 oz of Coca Cola, but it’s the thought that counts.
And believe me – every bit of that sugar and caffeine is used up. What most people definitely don’t realize is how crazy tiring conducting auditions are. For an actor, it’s a five minute in and out affair, but for us, we have to put on the same level of energy and run through the same handshake smile small talk routine multiple times. Of course, it’s new for every actor, and as the producers, you owe it to them to be super chipper and all since this is their big shot and everything. But after you’ve asked them how traffic was and if they found everything alright for the tenth time, you start to get tired of yourself.
We had our actors run through a key scene for whatever role they were auditioning for, playing it once however they wanted to, and playing it a second time with some direction. If they can’t alter their performance satisfactorily in the audition room, they definitely won’t be able to alter it when it comes time to shoot, or at least, that’s how the prevailing knowledge goes.
One girl almost stumbled in confusedly. We greeted her with the customary rehearsed to death warmth and sat her down and gave her a copy of the script. She told us she had driven from Westwood (UCLA turf basically) to get here, and traffic was horrendous. We told her we appreciated her commitment.
Then, as the flipped through the pages of the script idly, we asked if she had read it, and she offhandedly replied that she had, but “you know, it’s not the kind of thing I’d want to play. You know, it reminded me a little of those Chinese soap operas.” I blinked a few times, processing this. “So… do you want to… audition for a role?” “I mean, I guess… not really, but I mean if you want me to,” she said. She drove an hour through Los Angeles traffic on the I-10 to get here, just to tell us she didn’t like the script and really wasn’t into it? Either she was following some bizarre reverse psychology trick to get a part, or was straight up an idiot.
Still, she drove all this way, and I felt awkward saying “Well if you don’t to play any of the roles, don’t waste our time. Have a nice day” and sending her along (note to self: this is what I should do from now on), so we had her read for the lead and a supporting role. Both parts she approached with effortless detachment and utter lack of aplomb, as she went through the motions, finished up, and grabbed some snacks while we bid her farewell
“That was a fucking waste of time,” I said to Kevin as the door shut, “I hope she likes that cereal bar.”
I’ve devised a new college entrance exam. Here is the question:
“When do you use ‘your’ and when do you use ‘you’re’?”
Here’s the official study guide:
“You’re an idiot.”
More 310 details forthcoming.
