Ob(scene) Work
Take: Two Hundred
Most film and television auditions are pretty quick. You enter the room, give your interpretation of the scene, take some direction, then go again. All in, maybe five to ten minutes. If it's a callback or a chemistry test with another actor, it might go 20 minutes or so.
A few weeks ago I had a callback audition for an indie film.
It was scheduled for 45 minutes over Zoom. It lasted an hour and fifteen minutes. That's like warming a pop tart in a crock pot.
In an audition that lasted longer than some movies, I was subjected to more unnecessary torture than a Peloton Tabata ride with Tunde. I was asked to read two different scenes a minimum of ten times, with each iteration being guided by incomprehensible, contradictory direction.
"Be emotional, but not emotional in the sense of mere crying." "Be darker in your tone, be deeper in yourself." "This might not make sense now but, be deeper in your thumb."
At least that's what it sounded like.
I could barely hear the guy. He was Zooming in a coffee shop, whispering into a mic that was closer to his stomach than his mouth. I knew he was hungry more than I knew what he wanted me to do, and when I asked for clarification and a mic adjustment, I just got louder unactable gobbledy gook.
I don't know how much you know about the entertainment industry, but I'd bet my right arm, both kidneys, and my spleen that you know a 75-minute audition ain't normal. And I'm right handed. I mean, I was auditioning for an indie with an unknown director, not Scorsese's next Oscar contender.
After 30 minutes of sweating through my shirt in this stressful improv workshop disguised as a callback audition I was ready to go home — and I was home. And yet, against my better judgement, I kept trying to be "deeper in my thumb."
Last week I received an email from the director. I didn't get the part. I cried.
Not because I was disappointed. Because I was relieved.
…And Scene
Nothing about this audition was normal — especially the shedding tears of relief at rejection.
By minute 31, I had already turned the part down. I was just waiting for permission to admit it.
I'm not a "working actor," but I'm also not new to the game. I knew that audition wasn't typical or professional, yet I complied with each ask and kept performing when I should have walked away. But being pushed out feels safer than choosing to leave. I wouldn't be able to say, "...but I didn't quit."
When thoughts of not quitting take center stage in our minds, they sometimes leave us trapped in unfavorable scenes with awkward partners.
We quiet quit the job where our insight is regularly ignored or dismissed. We mentally pull the plug on the business partnership that's become a frustrating burden. We plan to end that multi-year romantic relationship that we've already checked out of — but we don't.
It can be exhausting to deliver a standing ovation-worthy performance every day on a stage you've already mentally left. Showing up to a job, partnership, relationship — whatever — without commitment and conviction will drain your emotional battery faster than an iPhone in direct sunlight at the beach.
And yet, we often let the situation end when we get pushed out. A layoff. A non-renewal. A dumping.
But at least you didn't quit.
Question of the Week
What are you waiting for permission to walk away from?
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