There is a certain kind of actor I would rather avoid. When confronted with a whole room full of them, my mind works fast to construct an escape plan. I start to wonder how bad it would be karmically if I announce I have to leave because of a death in the family. Having a huge capacity for guilt, I am unable to do this, and I try to think of brilliant white lies.
This Wednesday I had an appointment to do an 'audition workshop' for an international tour of third rate physical theatre. You know, pale imitations of what was ground breaking twenty years ago, and has since become part of established commercial theatre style. 'Come dressed for a physical theatre workshop' read the email. Duly, I arrive in my lovely red tracksuit. I am early. I am the first one there, and then I observe the instrument clad, one man band style worst nightmare sort of actors begin to arrive. These are the people who can't crack a smile, are unable to respond to my polite chat, and are totally up their own arses. They are all white. They all speak RP. They are desperately competitive. There is thirty minutes to kill before the workshop is due to begin. Having been stonewalled by the first two I speak to, I wonder how this time will pass. It's no surprise that people start to comptetively 'warm up'. This is people doing lots of stretches and horse noises with their mouths. Sometimes there is a bit of girly marshal arts movement going on, or abit of imaginary plate moving. Most important is the nonchalant blank face which everybody adopts in the exectution of this wanky series of moves.
I have nothing against dancers and athletes warming up their bodies. They do risk injury if they don't. But actors at an audition? Give me a break! This is just plain showing off. It makes me want to kill them. Or at the very least cuss their mums. So I wander about outside for a bit, then I sit on the floor in the hall, and I think my face is pretty plain. There is probably a huge sign above my head reading 'I think you're all cunts!' Maybe I should get one of those signs. This bodes really well for the next two hours passing in a fun way. It bodes brilliantly for me being imminently employed.
So the workshop begins, and the director makes a joke about how the wage will be paid into the actors' bank account, but there will be cash per diems which is basically 'beer money'. Hilarious! There were a lot of guffaws, particularly from a woman who had an amazingly determined face. I mean she really wanted this job bad. It's weird when people laugh and they don't smile. What follows are some rolly aroundy type exercises, then some improv games which are excrutiating, then some singing.
And now I know what is worse than competitive stretching. It's actors doing competitive singing. This is when they all try and sing the loudest whilst they're learning a song for the first time, and don't get it right because they're not listening. It's horrific. Then we have to take it in turns to sing this new song in pairs in a round. It's horrendous. Having had complete contempt for these people, I suddenly have enourmous empathy. What once were confident bellows become tremulous little squeeks. Words are forgotten, notes are out of the window, and still the maniac workshop leader keeps conducting them round and round, on and on, over and over, stretching the humiliation for all it's worth. And I feel warmth for these people, as despite the shameful performances, each one is cheered by all. My own performance is much like everyone elses. Horrid. I am the only one to laugh during it though, which I think makes me pretty cool.
At the end I don't wait to hear if they want to see me again. I don't feel that warmly towards them, and I've got things to do, like an audition for a job that I actually want, only now I'm way to tired and sweaty and my legs hurt and I just want to lie down. What is it about these physical theatre types which means they think that to be a good actor you must be able to walk with your knees bent a lot and have really strong thigh muscles?
