Have you ever directed something before? Odds are, if you frequent the theatre world, you have. Cripes, even I've directed once before, and lord knows I was dreadful at it. But what I'm getting at here, is that if you've directed, or at least been part of the casting process, or even if you've just done a group audition before, you'll have seen a bad audition.
You know the kind. The one that you're watching, and you think to yourself - 'are you serious?', where you feel embarassed for them, and once they've left the room, you exchange a few glances with others around you, mystified by the tragic display you were just privy to. I don't audition well, I know that, but at least in the theatre circuit, I've auditioned at least well enough to land a few key roles here and there. Some auditions have been better than others, and for some I've been so woefully unprepared that I probably didn't deserve the role (ie. Demetrius; an audition carried only by the strength of my improv).
Now that I'm fleshing out into the unknown world of TV and film auditions, I'm branching into uncharted territory, without the familiar faces who regularly frequented HTC Youth. And in this time, I've done a few bad auditions. Some so bad, that I walked away knowing that it'd be a cold day in hell before I appeared in front of their cameras.
Today, however, was something else. Today, I pulled off one of those infamous 'WTF' auditions. I came early, first to audition, and left as the one who'd make them fear a long day lied ahead as they crumpled up my details form and flung it in the vague direction of the garbage bin.
It was, and people who know me will find this hilarious, an audition for an automotive company commercial. Yes, a car company.
I've seen less time behind the wheel than Maggie Simpson, and yet there I was, toting the claim that I could 'give a genuine performance'.
Handily enough, I was going for the role of the confused customer, seeking help with my car. Before beginning, the gentleman in charge asked me what kind of car I drove. Panic crossed my face, and he then swapped over to asking what kind of car I drove in Canada. This was no doubt my last shot; the next question was likely - 'why in the hell are you auditioning for a car commercial?'
I hastily declared that I drove my dad's car around the mean streets of Courtenay.
'What kind of car?' he asked.
'...A Dodge.' my eventual response.
His next question included the term '4.0' and the type of gas it used, and I was dead out of luck. He kindly informed me that their particular advertising company also did ads for other products, so even if I didn't land this role (code for when I don't land the role), I can be considered for future projects. Great. So I'm basically fighting for my future with this entire company on this one ad, armed with nothing but an imaginary Dodge.
'Hi,' the gentleman said, playing the employee, 'How can I help you today?'
'Yeah, I've got a Dodge, and... I'm having issues with it, I'm just lost, man.' Truer words never said in an audition.
'Alright then, what kind of engine is it? 4.0 or...'
'Umm yeah, not too sure. It's my dad's, and... Yeah.'
'Do you know what kind of oil does it take? Synthetic or natural?'
'Natural, I think... I hope. I mean, that's what I'm putting in there.'
The light on the camera goes off, and the gentleman thanks me. He says he got the vibe of what I'm trying to do. He gives me the warmest, most sympathetic smile I've ever received, and thanked me for coming. His seated cohort had an expression better suited to the performance I had just given, and I departed. Nearly went out the wrong exit, too, just lucky I stalled with my iPhone while actually scanning for the proper exit. It would have actually been rather appropriate to have thrown open a door, and been buried under a comical barrage of brooms. Or an anvil. But I don't think they had anvils in their closets.
To my credit, I no doubt made the next dude look like a superstar, and the only future role I could secure with that company would be as the 'before' clip for an acting school.
Oh well. You're bound to have a stinker every now and then, and theoretically, there's nowhere to go from here but up. Unless the next audition relies on the strength of my knowledge on brain surgery or the history of cricket. If that were the case, I'd just get into my Dodge and drive away as fast as I can.
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