And the moral of the story is.....

We are taught from a young age to “Be Prepared;” whether as a woggle-wearing Scout or in a PSHE class when you are handed a banana and a Durex and told to do your best.  If you are prepared for any eventuality then you will never be fazed.

Well I was well and truly caught on the back foot earlier this week because I admit I've been resting on my laurels a bit lately.  I haven’t given my ‘actress-self’ an airing for a while; with moving house, nesting with my man and teaching in-between, the bright lights of London have become a bit blurry now that I am an extra 30 miles and a £28 train fare away.  In this slothful state I have been hypocritically teaching my students that they must practise everyday to improve (Hello Kettle, you’re black!) yet I have not been keeping on top of things.

On Tuesday I’d planned a trip to Kent to see a friend in a play and was thoroughly enjoying myself when I went to turn off my phone before we went into the theatre and saw missed calls from my agents!  Now the last time that happened was for that ill-fated physical theatre audition (see previous blog) and so I was naturally apprehensive plus the fact that it was 7pm.

Words swam through my voicemail saying that I had a last minute casting for a highly reputable regional theatre, a place that I had been begging to get a meeting with for yonks.  “Hooray!” I thought only to go weak at the knees when they added could I read the whole script, learn the French song attached (in French) and take my own French song all for 12 noon the next day.  French songs?  Tomorrow?

16 hours until the casting - 17% battery left on my phone, no 3G and 94 miles from home with a Samuel Beckett play to watch.  I glazed over and found my seat in the auditorium; Beckett’s words mingled with my brain’s desperate attempts to remember if I ever sang anything to my GCSE French oral examiner?

13 and a half hours until the casting – a round of applause and a hasty exit found me back on the M25 and in a ‘petit meltdown!”  Could I sing a song from Les Miserables?  It’s written by Frenchmen and set in France so I could cobble together a version of On My Own with an accent, what would it be...”Toutes Seule”?  Non! This is a play you “musical theatre, keep dining out on the fact you were in Les Mis once,” fool!

‘Frere Jacques’ was thrown into the equation, but I came unstuck after ‘Dormez vous’ and belted out ‘soggy semolina soggy semolina!’  The only other option was the French classroom classic “Quel est la date de ton anniversaire?” my best friend and I do a brilliant version where we rap all of the months of the year but was it right for 1940s France and did it show off my vocal range?  This wasn’t going to work, so far, Daniella Gibb – Nil Pois.

12 and a half hours until casting – finally back at home I proceeded to print out the 85 page script and battle my heavy eyelids to read to the end.

3 hours until the casting – I had wasted precious hours sleeping although my baggy eyes suggested otherwise.  My poor boyfriend got an early morning alarm in the form of my vocal warm-up to blast him awake as I paced up and down warbling in French and muttering at how talentless I was.

2 and a half hours to go - I thought I could maybe make-up for the lack of preparation time if I could blind the casting director with my lookey-likey ability.  You know how I love any excuse to dress like the part; so I donned by most nun-like black dress, crucifix and 1940s hairdo.

1 hour until the casting – sipping honey and lemon on the train I tried one last attempt to learn the French songs; I may have had “No regrets,” but I think the commuter next to me definitely regretted his choice to sit next to the mad, singing lady for 53 minutes!

As with all auditions, I was in and out within 15 minutes and stood shell-shocked outside wondering what on earth had just happened in the last 12 hours.  During my huge adrenalin come-down I reflected on the moral of this tale.  I had fallen into the trap of the “resting actor” and forgotten that I have to be ready at any moment to become the actor-me again. 

As an actor you may have 3 castings a week or nothing for months but you mustn’t forget your “raison d’etre” (gosh I just can’t stop the French now can I?!) whilst you fill the in-between time.  It is easier, and sometimes a way of protecting yourself, to get lost in your bar-work, teaching or other pursuits and put your acting on the back-burner.  But if performing is the thing that makes you truly alive then you can’t let those skills drift away.  When I was studying for my fitness qualification I learnt that it takes only 2 weeks of no exercise for the benefits of all your months of training to disappear and just because I did 3 years of drama training 11 years ago doesn’t mean that my singing and dancing skills will still be at their peak.  Performance skills, like everything from Marathon training to your mental capacity for crosswords, are muscles that need to be worked.

We actors love an impro game!

I hope that the tale of my stressful audition will prove to be a modern day fable for performers. I am not so blinded by the light of revelation that I am off to ballet class but I may go sew a Scout badge onto to my jumper to remind myself to always “Be Prepared!”

Actors as a Breed - come in for your close-up!

I am currently reading The Diaries of a Fleet Street Fox, a fascinating insight into the world of a tabloid journalist.  Many of the pages are spent dissecting and discussing their breed; qualities, stereotypes and surroundings of a “journo” are shown to the reader who has probably never stepped foot onto Fleet Street and you feel as if you begin to understand them. 

What would he find if he peered into our world?

As I turned each page I began to wonder whether we actors are a unique breed with hidden depths and stereotypes to be studied.  What would national treasure Sir David Attenborough make of our sort if the BBC commissioned a six-part series?

Where better to study “the Actor” than in their natural habitat – the audition room.  The first surprise to the viewer; there are no glamorous green rooms as seen on The Jonathan Ross Show full of booze and smiling celebs nor a colourful couch and free mug a la Loose Women.  You are more likely to spot the actor in a church hall with a ‘soundscape’ of dripping taps and the distant whirl of a fan heater.

Here, you would find many specimens of auditionee huddled around battling for warmth dressed in “funky summer” attire for a Mamma Mia! casting despite it being bitterly cold February outside.  What is interesting about this gathering is that they won’t strive for the good of the herd but for the individual, despite the squawks to the contrary of “Hiya babes” and “You look amazing!”  Don’t let the song of the actor fool you; like a pack of hungry wolves surrounding a coyote they will fight for a job until the death.

The graduate - wide-eyed with fabulous legs!

There are many breeds of performer under the classification of “Actor” and if you are patient any number of them will enter the audition room.  First comes the “graduate”; this type of actor has not quite reached maturity and is often visiting the watering hole from a far off land known as drama school.  The “graduate” bears no resemblance to Dustin Hoffman but may have similar characteristics such as wide-eyed optimism and a tendency to use the methods of Stanislavski.  They are often the first to appear because they are keen to give a good impression and have yet to learn that sitting around makes your nerves worse thus increasing visits to the toilet.

Next to appear is the “unashamed” actor; you will recognise them from the siren of sound that precedes their entrance from the stairwell.  The trill-ing, coo-ing and la-la-la-ing of the “unashamed” varies in pitch and is often accompanied by lunging against a wall or lying in semi-supine.  The “unashamed” has clearly forgotten to warm up in the shower or perhaps enjoys this vocal display as some kind of passive aggressive war-cry; rather like a peacock displaying its feather or Roebuck flashing it’s antlers.  This type of actor is to be ignored at all costs and mustn’t put you off your stride.

Shut uuuuuuup!

Another noisy type is the “conversation starter” – David Attenborough has yet to verify whether this chatter is another passive aggressive attempt to distract fellow auditionees or a genuine desire to talk because they have no friends.  A “conversation starter” will attempt contact in a number of ways; the most common being “Aren’t the tubes a nightmare this morning?” and “What song are you singing?” Do engage in chatter but don’t be surprised if your name is suddenly called and you have been too pre-occupied to get your folder out or swig water.  You have been warned!

Oh my God Oh my God you guys!

The clique nicknamed “Babes” can be frightening as they often have gorgeous plumage and come as a group.  They all seem to know each other from previous acting jobs and will fill the room with a cacophony of gossip and in-jokes.  But do not be intimidated for they only call each other “Babes” because they can’t for the life of them remember what each-other’s names really are and are only friends in the Facebook sense.

In the quieter corners of an audition room you will find the “old-timer” and the “bouncer.”  “Old-timer” has done all this before and will arrive with just enough time to take off their coats, pop in a Vocalzone and head straight in.  No stress or drama will accompany this type of actor as they are probably too busy planning childcare or getting back for their matinee.  “Old-timer” will probably end up getting the job because they are well-known and respected by those scary folk on the other side of the doors.  The “bouncer” is the guard for those doors, the stage-manager ticking folk in and out “if you’re not on the list, you’re not getting in.”  They are often found consoling a wailing actor who tries to make a run for the doors begging for a second chance.  You should always be nice to the “bouncer” but never ask them a question as they have been drilled by the scary folk through the doors to lie.  They read out lists of names for recalls and will always preface this with “Now this isn’t a no, we may want to see you at a later date,” THIS IS A LIE!  Don’t believe them and leave for the nearest wine bar with your head held high.

You may think that a trip to an audition room is not adventurous enough for Attenborough’s cameramen who are used to tracking mating Rhinos or territorial bull giraffes, but have you ever approached a premenstrual dancer who hasn’t eaten for 2 days in order to fit into her Chicago style uni-tard? 

This kind of TV analysis may seem an absurd analogy but think back to the countless Saturday nights we have spent watching footage of this breed as they queue up for X-Factor/The Voice/Find me a Jesus, pace waiting-rooms and warble to camera.  Attenborough’s animals are filmed unwittingly in their habitat but actors sign disclaimers and shout out in harmony “Come and judge me warts and all!”  Which is the more immoral?

Actors are certainly an interesting breed but it takes all sorts to make this globe of ours go round so I am quite pleased to be one of them, whatever my classification!

Ladies and Gentlemen please take your seats for the second act.....

I have a new affection for Ben Affleck.  An "Afflection" if you will!

The BAFTA’s on Sunday had some well-crafted speeches by mask winners; notably from Tessa Ross of Film 4 and Daniel Day Lewis who self-deprecatingly referred to his Stanislavski methods of “staying in character as myself for 55 years” and having small BAFTA sets around his home should he ever win this award.  Others went down less well, Anne Hathaway citing her laryngitis as the only reason why she didn’t sing her acceptance speech; thank goodness, please leave the through-singing on set, love!  But the speech that struck a chord with me was actor/producer/director Ben Affleck on winning Best Director for 'Argo.'

“This has been a second act for me and you’ve given me that, the industry has given me that and I want to thank you and I’m so grateful and proud and I dedicate this to anyone else out there trying to get their second act.”

Well, thank you Ben, because I feel like that dedication was sent straight out of my TV last night to inspire me to send off yet another writing job application this morning.  Second Act soon became a #hashtag# all over Twitter and I love this theatrical turn of phrase to explain trying to reinvent ourselves.  A “second act” in life seems like the acting version of Darwin’s theories as we evolve to cope in our habitat.

He interestingly called it a “second act” not a “second chance.”  This implies person developing through choice not having to change as a result of failure.  Mr Affleck has obviously succeeded very well in his first act as an actor and continues to do so, but he clearly felt that he had more to give and wanted to challenge himself. 

There are very few people in the world who remain in their first acts forever; because people change and develop throughout their lives it would be quite dull and even stifling if we stayed as we were in the same routine with the same challenges.  I watched a television programmes years ago where they interviewed an elderly Chinese man who was a fisherman.  He spoke eloquently about his craft but when he was asked if he had followed into a family business he shook his head and said he had previously been an architect and that everyone should have at least one job change in their lives.  I must have been hankering for a career change myself even back then if I can still remember that fisherman so clearly.

“Life is like a stage, and all the men and women merely players”

If Shakespeare was right and our lives truly do reflect art then the universal structure of a play resonates with Ben Affleck’s chosen phrase. 

Act 1- the set-up

Act 2 - the confrontation

 Act 3 - the resolution

Why would you want to stay as a fledgling in your set-up or rush to your resolution?  Your second act is meant to be a challenge where you turn things on their head and take risks.  It is the meaty part of the play that will ultimately affect the resolution.  I’m sure the actor, Ben Affleck, in Act 1 didn’t dream that he would stack up directing awards and perhaps be remembered for these accolades in his resolution instead of acting.  My dream resolution of retiring in an Italian vineyard whilst writing memoirs like an English Nora Ephron won’t come into being if I stay as a jobbing actress who will only be able to retire on a bottle of Blossom Hill in my sister’s annexe!

Reinventing yourself and changing careers has almost become trendy.  Think of all of the city folk you read about in magazines who wake up one day and realise they cannot stand the rat-race anymore and retrain as a yoga teacher.  They look all calm and smiley in the pictures not grey and harassed on a commuter train!  Footballers become coaches or pundits, mothers start their own businesses and actors become agents or teachers; people are constantly developing and evolving.

 

So well done Ben Affleck; I applaud you and 'Argo’s BAFTA success, I applaud that fact that we don’t see you in gossip mags everyday and most of all, I applaud you for inspiring folk like me who are trying to get to their second act.

(This post was originally written for The Huffington Post)

Going For Broke - the price I am having to pay

I have previously eulogised about the brilliance of fringe theatre in London at the moment; the exciting new work and re-staging of old classics are coming thick and fast with exceptional productions and casts to match.  Unless you are in Book of Morman, fringe theatre is the place to be.  But I have realised that doing too many fringe productions brings a whole new meaning to the phrase “suffering for your art.”

Sometimes the allure of the spotlight is too great for the ego of an actress

I have recently had to turn down two opportunities to play lead roles with a wonderful director. “Have you lost your mind?”  I hear you cry.  Aren’t lead roles in musicals what you bang on about all the time? I know!  And I didn’t even have to appear on a reality TV show or understudy for 5 years to be bumped up, this wonderful director asked me.  But no, I haven’t lost my mind, in fact my mind is what made me decline because, despite being in London, these were fringe productions that couldn’t offer me any wage.

Naturally my heart wanted to accept in, well, a heartbeat!  Who cares if I wasn’t going to be paid for 8 weeks, I could make this work.  I’d cycle to rehearsals (only 40 miles now I’ve moved house, it would be bracing in February at 6am.) I could count out the pennies at the bottom of all of my handbags, they must equate to at least two M&S Food salads and anyway eating is over-rated.  As for 2 months rent, surely my landlord would be so thrilled that a good review may get me one step nearer to stardom that he wouldn’t mind waiting for my first pay check from Downton Abbey?  (Because that is the obvious step in my career after I invite Julian Fellowes to watch me in this lead role, keep up!)

damn my low-GI breakfast!

But then my head took over; this is ridiculous, I am 31 years old and finally recognising that my parents weren’t lying when they said that “Money doesn’t grow on trees.”  My head reminded me that my inner actress may yearn to fulfil her potential but she also needs to pay council tax and continues to eat out-of-season blueberries on her Special K. 

I think we all equate money to freedom; the means to better our lives, sticking it to “the man” and having no worries.  Money would give me the freedom to not have to be 3^rd understudy “featured ensemble” in a budget-busting musical and to play roles that could challenge me and befit my twelve years experience.  Fringe theatre feeds a performer’s soul but how do you feed yourself when no pennies are coming in?

Obviously getting a great advertising campaign or TV role can help because you can then afford to give yourself a few weeks grace.  And when you are a younger performer you find a way of making it work; you have the energy to leaflet all day, do a fringe show at night and then work behind a bar until 3am.  But at my age, I have found that my priorities have shifted and this feels new and very unnerving as my head and heart do battle.

It may seem ridiculous that I harp on about being past it at 31 years old when it’s a tiny dent in what I hope to be my lifetime, but in this profession I am one step away from a telegram from The Queen.  There is a big black hole in musical theatre land where many an actress in her early 30’s has been sucked into; some are spat out at 45 ready for a new career in character roles, others you never hear from again.  By turning down these potentially great opportunities I am trying to make sure that my black hole isn’t filled with red bills and bailiffs!  I would much prefer marriage, babies and freelance writing in there, oh, but here goes my money-avoiding heart again.  Why can’t I wish my black hole holds a Masters in Computer Program Design!

Surely life would be better if we all dressed like this?!

I spent two years of my working life singing “Money, Money, Money, must be funny, in a rich man’s world” (head, arm, arm.  Ah muscle memory! )  Yes ABBA, it must be hilarious in that bank note-clad world where you can pick and choose your dreams.  But as I’ve matured from that 21 year old girl who was having the time of her life, I have realised that although the world can be ABBA-tastic at times, we cannot always wear lycra suits and platform boots.  Tax bills will loom, HMV will close and my  January bank balance will resemble Zimbabwe’s so I have to start picking and choosing when I can let my inner actress free.

I will always make time for fringe theatre but the time will have to suit me.  As my hairdresser says “You can always cut in a fringe, it’s just got to suit your face.”