Documenting the Baltimore Renaissance

WHAT WEEKLY

The Frumious Bandersnatch

30 June 2010

★ What Weekly & David Warfield

The Frumious Bandersnatch

At precisely ten a.m., the first five subjects enter the dark, featureless, space. They sit in chairs backed against a wall.

On the black floor, a rectangle of red tape contains a single, empty chair. The chair alone is intensely illuminated. Beyond the sphere of light, in shadowy anonymity, are those who sit in judgment—maybe fifty persons in all. A voice commands the first subject to move into the red box and take the hot seat. The shadow faces stare at her. She waits till the guy with the video cameras says “okay.” She smiles and introduces herself. She says she’s going to do a monologue from Simon, or Mamet, or LaBute. She lowers her eyes, briefly, then raises them, now a different person—a character.

She has ninety seconds to do her bit. She thanks her audience and leaves the hot seat. The next subject is a guy, young, good-looking. For his ninety-second audition, he’s chosen a bit from Garden State, or Awakenings, or Angels in America. And then he’s gone. After the first five are finished, they are led out. A new set of five is escorted into the spacious room. The process is repeated over the next seven hours. I am among the shadow people sitting in judgment. I’m here because I’m making a movie, and even though production is a year in the future, I will take every opportunity to scour the planet for actors that can make an audience believe, or at least suspend disbelief.

If you’re a writer, rejection is the norm. For fiction writers that rejection comes in the form of a note or email, sometimes with a brief explanation: “not right for us, best of luck with your future work.” If you’re a screenwriter, the rejection is likely to come in the form of no reply whatsoever (the new “no” in Hollywood is utter silence).

We writers have it pretty tough, but the actors endure a deeper level of rejection-as-norm. The actor knows that the producer/ director/ gopher/ whoever is judging their audition could be thinking: Too skinny/fat. Too old/young. Too short/tall. Voice is weird. Hair is wrong. Wrong accent. Bad skin. Walks funny. Wrong race. Reminds me of my old lover. Reminds me of my mother. Can’t act. Acts too much. When is lunch?

There is an inherent (if illusory) sense of superiority one has while sitting in the dark scrutinizing the actor. The relationship is artificial, fleeting, and terribly intimate, and the actor’s self esteem is always on the line. I would love to see it reversed, where a filmmaker, say, must stand in his underwear before a jury of actors and defend his mad scheme to exploit the actor’s talents and bodies to his peculiar purpose.

Like writers, auditioning actors must have faith, but their work demands more courage. They sacrifice a lot for these fleeting moments, and I love them for it. The considerable skill and talent on display ranged from workmanlike standard to totally eccentric. There were gutsy children, bear-it-all oldsters, gleaming ingénues, and several varieties of thug and hunk, representing the comic, the tragic, and the weird.

One young woman took her place in the hot seat and waited for the signal. She began her monologue, uttered two lines—and choked. She took several moments to collect herself, and then started over. She made it through the first two lines but . . . it was like someone waved a neuralyzer over her head. After a period of excruciating silence, the young woman returned to her seat along the wall and waited for her fellow actors to complete their speed-auditions. I could see her eyes were downcast, and imagined her face was hot to the touch. Her manner aroused intense empathy. I’d cast her.

David Warfield
June 8, 2010

The event is Stonehenge XI. The organizers: Team Jabberwocky (teamjabberwocky.com). The space was provided by Creative Alliance at the Patterson. The purpose: to hook up actors with filmmakers and theater producers. Stonehenge is a “speed-casting” event, the brainchild of Bjorn Munson, “founder and chief raconteur” of Team Jabberwocky. Team Jabberwocky is excellent, well organized, and a lot of fun to work with. Stonehenge XII takes place at the Creative Alliance on 09/26/2010.

See the video.

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  • http://whatweekly.com/2010/07/01/get-a-mission/ Get A Mission | What Weekly Magazine

    [...] At precisely ten a.m., the first five subjects enter the dark, featureless, space. They sit in chairs backed against a wall. On the black floor, a rectangle of red tape contains a single, empty chair. The chair alone is intensely illuminated. Beyond the sphere of light, in shadowy anonymity, are those who sit in judgment-maybe fifty persons in all. A voice commands the first subject to move into the red box and take the hot seat. The shadow faces stare at her. She waits till the guy with the video cameras says “okay.” She smiles and introduces herself. She says she’s going to do a monologue from Simon, or Mamet, or LaBute. She lowers her eyes, briefly, then raises them, now a different person-a character. She has ninety seconds to do her bit. She thanks her audience and leaves the hot seat. The next subject is a guy, young, good-looking. For his ninety-second audition, he’s chosen a bit from Garden State, or Awakenings, or Angels in America. And then he’s gone. After the first five are finished, they are led out. A new set of five is escorted into the spacious room. The process is repeated over the next seven hours. I am among the shadow people sitting in judgment. I’m here because I’m making a movie, and even though production is a year in the future, I will take every opportunity to scour the planet for actors that can make an audience believe, or at least. . .continue reading David Warfield’s Confessions of a Mad Filmmaker. [...]

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