Thursday, December 28, 2006
Happy Christmas & Merry Hanukkah
Hope everybody has had a wonderful week with their family & friends. Check out this funny video from the companies of Avenue Q & Fiddler on the Roof ("Everyone's A Little Bit Jewish")
Friday, December 22, 2006
'Spring Awakening' & INMULABAL
Stephan:
I saw Spring Awakening (the Broadway show, http://www.springawakening.com/) last week, and was blown away! If you haven't seen it yet, and if you can still find a cheap ticket (it was selling at 50% capacity through previews...although, now it's officially open), I would highly recommend it. While not everyone I know who has seen it has been in love with it, I certainly am. Check out this music video (Spring Awakening Video), it may get you hooked. Hope you like it!
Also, I took part in a really cool reading this month for a new group that my former roommate (playwright/actor) Brian Pracht started with some friends. The group is called INMULABAL, and it is comprised of a bunch of actors and writers who met through the LAByrinth Theatre (Philip Seymour Hoffman & John Patrick Shanley's theatre group). INMULABAL has been meeting every week as a sort of "acting group" (like a "writing group" only for actors), where they perform for each other and bring in new exercises, ideas, and inspiration. A couple weeks ago they had their first "performance" where there were about 9 readings of new plays and short pieces. I was super impressed with the talent and the subtlety of the writers and actors. If you're interested, check out their google-group page (http://groups.google.com/group/inmulabal). Happy Holidays!
I saw Spring Awakening (the Broadway show, http://www.springawakening.com/) last week, and was blown away! If you haven't seen it yet, and if you can still find a cheap ticket (it was selling at 50% capacity through previews...although, now it's officially open), I would highly recommend it. While not everyone I know who has seen it has been in love with it, I certainly am. Check out this music video (Spring Awakening Video), it may get you hooked. Hope you like it!
Also, I took part in a really cool reading this month for a new group that my former roommate (playwright/actor) Brian Pracht started with some friends. The group is called INMULABAL, and it is comprised of a bunch of actors and writers who met through the LAByrinth Theatre (Philip Seymour Hoffman & John Patrick Shanley's theatre group). INMULABAL has been meeting every week as a sort of "acting group" (like a "writing group" only for actors), where they perform for each other and bring in new exercises, ideas, and inspiration. A couple weeks ago they had their first "performance" where there were about 9 readings of new plays and short pieces. I was super impressed with the talent and the subtlety of the writers and actors. If you're interested, check out their google-group page (http://groups.google.com/group/inmulabal). Happy Holidays!
Monday, December 11, 2006
To pay or not to pay, that is the quesiton. Paying for an audition
I have to admit, I was a bit nervous as I walked into the “Film Center” building on 9th Ave. I had been there once before to do some voice-over work, but I’d never been up to the 14th floor where “Actor’s Connection” calls home. I was nervous—but not for the usual actor reasons like performance anxiety or a sore throat. My trepidation was more on philosophical grounds.
You see, in the six years I’ve lived in New York City, I have never directly paid to be seen by an industry professional. I say “directly” because I know we’re always paying indirectly. Of course it takes marketing and networking (in addition to talent) to make it in this biz, and through the years I’ve bought the headshots and the postcards, the voice lessons and acting classes. I’ve even traveled to other cities just for an audition—paying for transportation, food, accommodations etc. but I’ve always stopped short of paying directly for an audition. “Real” actors wouldn’t ever do that, I thought. It was my proverbial line in the sand, the period in my sentence, the curly black hair in my gourmet pizza. No thank you, sir.
But then my fiancé, Dana, bought a “pack” of three seminars at Actor’s Connection and couldn’t use them all. Not a fan of wasting anything… and, well, technically I wouldn’t be the one paying to meet the guy, I took her remaining seminars from her. And that is how I found myself stepping into the elevator at 630 9th Avenue. What would it be like? How long would we have? What kind of actors would be there? I knew there was no prerequisite, audition or screening process… Would this Casting Director think less of me for being there? Would he just be there for a paycheck, or would he take us and our “connection” seriously?
I stepped out of the elevator and then into the Actor’s Connection lobby. I was a half an hour early, so I sat down across from the front desk to wait and watch. Other actors were coming and going, rehearsing scenes and sides, or softly reciting their monologues under their breath. Nothing out of the ordinary there.
Soon, we all filtered into Studio One and I sat down in the center of the second row of chairs. The monitor stood in front and gave us some ground rules: You’ll be paired up by the Casting Director for the scenes that you’ll be reading cold. He likes to pair people himself, and because there is an odd number of people, someone may get a monologue to read. You’ll each get four minutes. Then she asked if any one had come for the first time. I slowly raised my hand. Ahh, a Virgin, she said delightedly… She left the room, and as we waited for the Casting Director to arrive a guy in the front row said, very loud: “Thanks for coming, sir! How would you like it if WE were seven minutes late?? Huh, Sir?? HUH!” I sincerely think he was trying to be funny, sitting there, berating the empty chair in the front of the room. But his antics were met with an embarrassed silence. Finally, the CD we were waiting for turned up, and after which, everything went much smoother. We got to ask him some quite pointed questions—and it was actually pretty comfortable. So often in an audition, I’ve found that I have walked in and out of the room so focused on myself that I’ve already forgotten what the people in the room look like! This little “interview process” made me feel (whether it was true or not) that I had made some sort of personal connection with him. Here are a few of the sound bytes from our question/answer session: Reels are easiest for him to look at online, send him a URL address rather than a DVD. He watches Law and Order, (even though he hates the show!) religiously. Why? Because it keeps him up to date on the NYC acting pool. He also said that 50% (at least) of your audition is the impression you make as you walk in the door. And finally, the most important thing he “looks for in an actor he is considering casting:” Professionalism.
We were paired up and given scenes and a few minutes to prepare. When my scene partner and I went into the room, we got to do the scene three times and even got a few adjustments. Lastly, we handed over our picture and resumes, and that was that.
As I walked home, I couldn’t help fantasizing about all of the other industry professionals I would like to meet. It was easier, and certainly more personal, than a cattle call. I guess, without the pressure of “casting a project,” CD’s can give a little more time for a personal connection. Of course, as I write this, it has been a few days now and I haven’t heard anything—no national commercial yet… So it still could be just a paycheck for C.D.’s at the expense of inexperienced actors. But, it didn’t feel that way. Without an Agent submitting you, how else would you get in front of these people? And if you do get called in for something, and got cast, who cares how you first met!
As I said, nothing tangable has come of my little experiment so far, but I certainly feel different that I thought I would. Instead of pathetic, I feel positive and proactive. And as I wrote my little thank-you post card that night to the casting director I had met, I wondered if I had been wrong all along? To pay or not to pay? It's not a question for me anymore.
You see, in the six years I’ve lived in New York City, I have never directly paid to be seen by an industry professional. I say “directly” because I know we’re always paying indirectly. Of course it takes marketing and networking (in addition to talent) to make it in this biz, and through the years I’ve bought the headshots and the postcards, the voice lessons and acting classes. I’ve even traveled to other cities just for an audition—paying for transportation, food, accommodations etc. but I’ve always stopped short of paying directly for an audition. “Real” actors wouldn’t ever do that, I thought. It was my proverbial line in the sand, the period in my sentence, the curly black hair in my gourmet pizza. No thank you, sir.
But then my fiancé, Dana, bought a “pack” of three seminars at Actor’s Connection and couldn’t use them all. Not a fan of wasting anything… and, well, technically I wouldn’t be the one paying to meet the guy, I took her remaining seminars from her. And that is how I found myself stepping into the elevator at 630 9th Avenue. What would it be like? How long would we have? What kind of actors would be there? I knew there was no prerequisite, audition or screening process… Would this Casting Director think less of me for being there? Would he just be there for a paycheck, or would he take us and our “connection” seriously?
I stepped out of the elevator and then into the Actor’s Connection lobby. I was a half an hour early, so I sat down across from the front desk to wait and watch. Other actors were coming and going, rehearsing scenes and sides, or softly reciting their monologues under their breath. Nothing out of the ordinary there.
Soon, we all filtered into Studio One and I sat down in the center of the second row of chairs. The monitor stood in front and gave us some ground rules: You’ll be paired up by the Casting Director for the scenes that you’ll be reading cold. He likes to pair people himself, and because there is an odd number of people, someone may get a monologue to read. You’ll each get four minutes. Then she asked if any one had come for the first time. I slowly raised my hand. Ahh, a Virgin, she said delightedly… She left the room, and as we waited for the Casting Director to arrive a guy in the front row said, very loud: “Thanks for coming, sir! How would you like it if WE were seven minutes late?? Huh, Sir?? HUH!” I sincerely think he was trying to be funny, sitting there, berating the empty chair in the front of the room. But his antics were met with an embarrassed silence. Finally, the CD we were waiting for turned up, and after which, everything went much smoother. We got to ask him some quite pointed questions—and it was actually pretty comfortable. So often in an audition, I’ve found that I have walked in and out of the room so focused on myself that I’ve already forgotten what the people in the room look like! This little “interview process” made me feel (whether it was true or not) that I had made some sort of personal connection with him. Here are a few of the sound bytes from our question/answer session: Reels are easiest for him to look at online, send him a URL address rather than a DVD. He watches Law and Order, (even though he hates the show!) religiously. Why? Because it keeps him up to date on the NYC acting pool. He also said that 50% (at least) of your audition is the impression you make as you walk in the door. And finally, the most important thing he “looks for in an actor he is considering casting:” Professionalism.
We were paired up and given scenes and a few minutes to prepare. When my scene partner and I went into the room, we got to do the scene three times and even got a few adjustments. Lastly, we handed over our picture and resumes, and that was that.
As I walked home, I couldn’t help fantasizing about all of the other industry professionals I would like to meet. It was easier, and certainly more personal, than a cattle call. I guess, without the pressure of “casting a project,” CD’s can give a little more time for a personal connection. Of course, as I write this, it has been a few days now and I haven’t heard anything—no national commercial yet… So it still could be just a paycheck for C.D.’s at the expense of inexperienced actors. But, it didn’t feel that way. Without an Agent submitting you, how else would you get in front of these people? And if you do get called in for something, and got cast, who cares how you first met!
As I said, nothing tangable has come of my little experiment so far, but I certainly feel different that I thought I would. Instead of pathetic, I feel positive and proactive. And as I wrote my little thank-you post card that night to the casting director I had met, I wondered if I had been wrong all along? To pay or not to pay? It's not a question for me anymore.
Saturday, December 2, 2006
A day with Gandhi
Stephan:
How many people can say that they got to be Gandhi for a day...on top of that, how many of those "Gandhi"s have then been granted the extreem opportunity to have a fist fight with Jesus and break a bottle over his head. In this esteem, I may be in a class of my own.
It really was a great week from the begining. Monday I got the opportunity to sing again for the BMI writers workshop. For those who haven't heard of the BMI workshop, it's a program for musical theatre songwriters. The songwriters who are a part of BMI get the opportunity to present their songs to a classroom of fellow singers and songwriters, who then discuss the songs and present valuable insights, ideas, and feedback. Some of the shows that have emerged from this workshop are hits like A Chorus Line, Little Shop of Horrors, Nine, Ragtime, & most recently Avenue Q. Often when a songwriter writes a new song, instead of singing it themselves they'll ask a singer or actor to come into class and present it for them. On Monday I was one of those singers.
I've sung for a few different writers there, and I must say it's always a good challenge and a terrific learning experience (along with being a great opportunity for meeting and being heard by the next generation of musical theatre composers). My song went well, I didn't nail it like I had hoped, but I certainly did have some good moments. I must note that I love the music of the composer I was singing...the wonderful BJ Bjorkman! The head moderator of the class this past week was Maury Yeston (Titanic, Nine, Grand Hotel). Listening to him digest and diagnose the songs in class was a real education. I loved some of his ideas on sincerety in music (speaking right to the story and not musical theatre-ing it up), emotional juxtiposition (the bad guy of the show thinks they're the good guy, and sometimes when you write music for the moment when the ship hits the iceburg, it doesn't have to be done with drums and a great boom, maybe it's better with a flute solo), and good song concepts vs. well written songs (it could be a great song, but if it's the wrong moment, it's lost). Just being in that room (especially after spending most of the rest of the day in an office) was a giant breath of fresh air.
So, Thursday I get the call from 'Late Night with Conan O'Brien' - "hey Stephan, are you available tomorrow? Our usual Gandhi is unavailble for the show tomorrow and we were wondering if you would be interested" (I of course being a 5'6" midwest looking "white boy", had to take a moment) to which I answered "sure, I can move some things around, but are you sure you think I would be ok for Gandhi?". "Yeah (beat) do you have a lot of chest hair?" (beat) "Is it good to have chest hair? I could shave it all off?"...needless to say, after talking about my chest hair, arm size, pecks and overall indian-compatibility, I was deemed worthy and asked to come in on Friday.
We were supposed to be a part of the College Mascots bit on Friday night (us being the "fighting pacifists" - Jesus fighting Gandhi). Unfortunately after getting the bald cap, face paint, indian toga (indian toga - is that what it's called?), and after breaking a bottle over Jesus' head in the 4 o'clock rehearsal, we got cut. Alas, my National TV Gandhi debut must wait. All in all, what a way to spend a day!
How many people can say that they got to be Gandhi for a day...on top of that, how many of those "Gandhi"s have then been granted the extreem opportunity to have a fist fight with Jesus and break a bottle over his head. In this esteem, I may be in a class of my own.
It really was a great week from the begining. Monday I got the opportunity to sing again for the BMI writers workshop. For those who haven't heard of the BMI workshop, it's a program for musical theatre songwriters. The songwriters who are a part of BMI get the opportunity to present their songs to a classroom of fellow singers and songwriters, who then discuss the songs and present valuable insights, ideas, and feedback. Some of the shows that have emerged from this workshop are hits like A Chorus Line, Little Shop of Horrors, Nine, Ragtime, & most recently Avenue Q. Often when a songwriter writes a new song, instead of singing it themselves they'll ask a singer or actor to come into class and present it for them. On Monday I was one of those singers.
I've sung for a few different writers there, and I must say it's always a good challenge and a terrific learning experience (along with being a great opportunity for meeting and being heard by the next generation of musical theatre composers). My song went well, I didn't nail it like I had hoped, but I certainly did have some good moments. I must note that I love the music of the composer I was singing...the wonderful BJ Bjorkman! The head moderator of the class this past week was Maury Yeston (Titanic, Nine, Grand Hotel). Listening to him digest and diagnose the songs in class was a real education. I loved some of his ideas on sincerety in music (speaking right to the story and not musical theatre-ing it up), emotional juxtiposition (the bad guy of the show thinks they're the good guy, and sometimes when you write music for the moment when the ship hits the iceburg, it doesn't have to be done with drums and a great boom, maybe it's better with a flute solo), and good song concepts vs. well written songs (it could be a great song, but if it's the wrong moment, it's lost). Just being in that room (especially after spending most of the rest of the day in an office) was a giant breath of fresh air.
So, Thursday I get the call from 'Late Night with Conan O'Brien' - "hey Stephan, are you available tomorrow? Our usual Gandhi is unavailble for the show tomorrow and we were wondering if you would be interested" (I of course being a 5'6" midwest looking "white boy", had to take a moment) to which I answered "sure, I can move some things around, but are you sure you think I would be ok for Gandhi?". "Yeah (beat) do you have a lot of chest hair?" (beat) "Is it good to have chest hair? I could shave it all off?"...needless to say, after talking about my chest hair, arm size, pecks and overall indian-compatibility, I was deemed worthy and asked to come in on Friday.
We were supposed to be a part of the College Mascots bit on Friday night (us being the "fighting pacifists" - Jesus fighting Gandhi). Unfortunately after getting the bald cap, face paint, indian toga (indian toga - is that what it's called?), and after breaking a bottle over Jesus' head in the 4 o'clock rehearsal, we got cut. Alas, my National TV Gandhi debut must wait. All in all, what a way to spend a day!
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