*The following was written on April 30th 2012*
Anyone who has read any of the Neon Fringe Director’s Blogs before will know that I like to tell the truth. Whether it’s about the difficulties we have encountered trying to stage a play in a cafĂ©, or the realisation that the script has problems that are in need of a major fix, my approach is the same: just write about it. Even if it means a) being wrong, b) coming across as a twat, or c) both. I like to think it makes for good reading and gives some sense as to what it is like for a small independent company to mount a production with limited resources in a city not known for giving breaks.
Anyone who has read any of the Neon Fringe Director’s Blogs before will know that I like to tell the truth. Whether it’s about the difficulties we have encountered trying to stage a play in a cafĂ©, or the realisation that the script has problems that are in need of a major fix, my approach is the same: just write about it. Even if it means a) being wrong, b) coming across as a twat, or c) both. I like to think it makes for good reading and gives some sense as to what it is like for a small independent company to mount a production with limited resources in a city not known for giving breaks.
As you know, L.A. Blues is coming back. The
expectation was that it would be easy. We still have the set, access to the
costumes and tech equipment, as well as the same cast and crew. All we had to
do was arrange a date with the venue and update the publicity material to
reflect the new performance dates. Rehearsals would be minimal; nothing was
changing. All the cast needed to do was re-learn their lines. It was to be a
hassle-free production.
Yeah. Not quite.
It turns out one of the actors cannot be involved. Which, for anyone who hasn’t
seen it yet, is 20% of the cast. Not exactly ideal. So rather than the
laid-back rehearsal period we had planned, we now have five weeks to find a new
actor and slot him into the production. Which means pressure, stress,
uncertainty and, worst of all, auditions.
Now, I don’t
know about other directors but I hate auditions. I am aware of their necessity
but I still hate doing them. The audition environment is an unfair one – how
often has someone nailed an audition only to prove a total flop in the actual
production? And what about those that do not audition well but, if given the
chance, really can deliver?
Forgetting about
the actor (who, let’s face it, has a pretty shit time of it), the audition
process is far from enjoyable for the director. Sitting through the same piece
of text as a procession of actors overact, underact and otherwise waste your
time, waiting and hoping for just one that stands out. And what if there is
more than one who makes an impression? Then there is the who-do-I-choose dilemma – the fear that you will make the wrong
choice and doom the production to mediocrity, or worse. This, before taking
into account those who arrive at the audition full of energy, personality and
enthusiasm, only to turn out to be difficult, negative assholes. Personality
plays a part. It doesn’t matter how good someone is if they are a prick; I
don’t want to work with them – it’s not worth the effort.
But that’s not
all. Leaving aside the hassle of auditioning, I have a bigger issue to fret
over: We knew the show was good and we decided to revive it based on that. What
if, after pushing to bring in a new audience, something doesn’t work this time
around? What if we can’t pull the show together in time? What if the new guy
turns out to be a) rubbish, b) an asshole, or c) both? What if, what if, what
if. My stress levels are currently much higher than they should be. This was
supposed to be a walk in the park. Right now, it feels like anything but.
Auditions are tomorrow. We’ll see how it goes.
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