More on Giving Up

So far, I've received a grand total of three responses to my decision to not do any acting next year.

First, a friend is bugging me to audition for "Fiddler on the Roof".  No.  I DON'T SING.  It's nice that he's thinking of me, but I can't imagine being fulfilled by whatever-part-in-that-musical-that-I-can-actually-manage.  I keep thinking back to "42nd Street", which was for me a major low-point.  I could go in to detail, but in the end: I'm NOT doing "Fiddler on the Roof"!

Second, when I went to see "Rocky Horror Picture Show", another friend came up and joked "I thought you were giving up theatre?"  I replied that I was giving up ACTING.  I still plan on going to shows, thank-you-very-much!

Third, another friend said to me "you've got to do what you've got to do."  Finally, someone understands!  I NEED to do this.  My desire to act has taken me to some very dark places.  I don't look at audition announcements and say "I want to do that play"; rather, I look at audition announcements and say "they'll never cast me in that play."  When I go into an audition, my first instinct is that "I don't stand a chance".  When I leave the audition, even if I think I did a fine job, I'm immediately preparing for the rejection.  Oh, by the way, remember that this is all COMMUNITY THEATRE!  I'm getting this frustrated with community theatre, people doing this just for fun!

I think it all came down to one line, which I realized was both sad and repulsive.  "I'm just not good enough for them to look past my brown skin."  What the hell is wrong with my brown skin?  My desire to act has made me look upon my brown skin as a "negative".

The acting world isn't going to miss me, seriously.  It's not easy to give up on a dream, and I have been very sad for the past few months, since I realized it has come to this.  But I NEED to do this.

Giving up, for now.

My last few auditions?

I got an interesting part in a short play festival, but everyone that auditions for that, pretty much, gets a part.

I was offered a small non-speaking part for "Pink Panther Strikes Again".  The part I was offered was a character named "Hindu Harry".  Um . . . no.  My strongest asset, I have been told repeatedly, is my voice, so a non-speaking part would be a waste of my time.

"Arms and the Man"?  Nope.

"Our Lady of 121st Street"?  Callback, but no.

So, was my experience with "The Last Days of Judas Iscariot" a triumph?  Was I that awesome?  I thought I did pretty well, and people told me I did pretty well, but since then absolutely nothing has changed.  I can't even get the door to hit me on my way out.

I HAVE experienced racism in casting.  More than racism, I have experienced casting directors that just couldn't look past the brown skin.  This is all true, and I have had to deal with it.  But, does that explain everything?  No.  We also have times when my audition just wasn't at its best, and I really deserved to not get the part.  But does that explain everything?  No.  In the end, there is one explanation I need to face: maybe I'm just not that good.

Maybe I am destined, in theatre, to be "that guy that stands by the door" for play after play after play, just happy and thrilled to be on the stage even if I never ever get something that will stretch my acting muscles.  And, at cast parties, I will be there talking about my glory days with "Judas Iscariot".  But I don't want to be that guy.  I don't want to be part of something that has made it SO clear that just doesn't want me.

So, I decided: in 2014, I will not act or audition for anything in the Philadelphia area theatre world.  And that includes classes and short play festivals: things like that just give me an illusion that just gets shattered later.  I will keep an open mind about theatre in other areas -- maybe New York City might be better for me, although I can't imagine driving 2 1/2 hours to get to a rehearsal.  I'll also keep an open mind about film.  But I doubt anything will happen in either case.  I think it's time to just walk away.

"Working Your Way Up" and "Keeping An Open Mind" and . . . not

In 2012, I made a decision that I would no longer take a role that I didn't find interesting.  Now, "interesting" could mean many things.  It doesn't necessarily mean a big part; sometimes, "interesting" means a part that is challenging, that stretches me in some way.  Sometimes, it's none of that: "interesting" could mean "I'm working with a director I've wanted to work with" or "I want to be part of this production, even if I'm only on for a minute".  

2011 told me a lot about what "interesting" didn't mean.  I was in a number of shows, but I was finding parts that just weren't interesting.  I realized this was affecting me.  I was getting bored, I was getting frustrated, and frankly I was getting offended that these parts were all I seemed able to get.

So, 2012, I put down the gauntlet: no more.  

As if to challenge that, right after I made that decision, I received an e-mail asking if I would be interested in a small non-speaking part in one play.  For the first time ever, I turned down a part.  It made sense purely from a practical angle: I lived 45 minutes from that theatre.  I was not going to drive 90 minutes for that!  In the past, though, I would have looked at this as "paying my dues".  Keep an open mind, I would say.  Get my foot through the door, I would say.  They would see me, get impressed by me, and this would lead to better roles.  Right?  

I know of cases where this happens, but it didn't happen to me.  This is because, while directors told me they liked working with me and I was repeatedly hearing that I did an impressive job, there was something "more" that overshadowed all of that -- my skin color.  But even without that: I know far too many people that would take these small "guy standing by the door" parts and, years later, were doing the same "guy standing by the door" parts.  

I don't know why this happens.  My suspicion is that when the directors see you playing a "character in the background", they think of you as a "character in the background".  When they see you doing this often, this gets reinforced.  You become "the person we can count on to play a character in the background".  And that is all you will ever get.  

Last year, I was chatting with a professional actor in New York City, who told me that he had to throw down the same gauntlet in his career.  He said he heard the same advice, too: "there are no small roles" and all that.  But, he wanted a career, and saw that these small roles were not building his career.  He needed to say "stop, enough".  

The thing about these small "guy standing by the door" roles is that they still take time.  You might not have to be at every rehearsal, but you have to be at many of them.  When Hell Week starts, you will be there every night, rehearsals going on for as long as they need. And during the run, you will give up your weekends just like everyone else.  In 2011, I was filling my schedule with small roles.  If there were any interesting roles that would have been a good match for me, chances are my schedule was already filled with these small roles.  I was willing to do this to prove myself, and that was certainly valuable, but after a point I saw that there was no more value.  I HAD proven myself, but proving yourself was not enough.  If I was willing to play "guy standing by the door", I would continue to be cast as "guy standing by the door".  I needed to be willing to say "enough . . . I'm not doing that any more, and IF THAT IS ALL I WILL EVER GET, I AM WILLING TO WALK AWAY FROM ACTING ALTOGETHER".  

What An Amazing Ride . . .

Today, I went to an audition for a short play festival.  I was in this short play festival last year, but going into the audition was completely different than it was last year.  This time, just about everyone there knows me, and I didn't feel out of place or out of my league.  I walk into this theatre feeling like I was going to give it my all, convinced that I would still get nothing for my efforts.  I was comfortable.

I still believe that if I go out and audition again, looking for good and interesting roles, I will be disappointed. I still believe that racial bias in casting is very much there, and I will be turned away repeatedly because of my brown skin.  I still believe I will be given five minute "guy standing in the back" roles.  But right this moment, I'm coming off a high.  Right this moment, I know I have proven myself.  I know that I'm actually good.

In the fall of 2012, I went to two auditions.  One was for a staged reading of "8".  I got a very small part, but the play had me intrigued and I wanted to work with the director.  The other was for the play "The Last Days of Judas Iscariot".  This was a huge part in a challenging play.  The cast was phenomenal, and I knew that I could not "phone in" this performance.  This part actually intimidated me.

And I pulled it off.  I was good.  I was REALLY good.  And I was part of something REALLY good.  This was one of the best plays I've ever been in.

Can I act?  Can I carry a large, demanding part?  Can I rise to the occasion, challenge others as they challenge me?  Can I hold the stage?  I did it all.  I was given a chance, and I took it, and I am very proud of my work.

Maybe I'll never get an opportunity like that again, but at least I had the opportunity that time.  For three weeks, I was a star.  I intend to still hold on to my rule to not take a part that I don't find interesting.  I haven't been auditioning, mainly because I want to hold on to this feeling that I am finally accepted by the theatre community, even if it's just an illusion . . . I don't want to come crashing down and finding that, even after proving myself with this role, I still can't get parts.  But I need to do more, and this short play festival is a good start.

Giving Another Try

This year, my decision to actually be picky about parts has been successful.  I have been in three plays this year.  One of them, I co-wrote.  At the time, my joke was that it was the most challenging role I have had in a long time, but that's because I wrote it that way!

Next, I had a part in a play in a short-play festival.  My joke here was that it was six minutes on stage, which is about what I have been getting the last two years . . . but this time, it's six minutes out of ten minutes!  This short play was my "breakthrough" into a clique of community theatre groups that had constantly rejected me.  People came up to me and told me that I was the high point of the whole show.  In my mind, I was thinking "See what you all kept turning away?"

Finally now, back at a theatre company that has consistently given me chances in the past . . . and here I am with a real-live honest-to-goodness major role!

So, I've been feeling pretty good about acting.  My "New Years Resolution", even though when I made it I strongly suspected that it would mean giving up acting completely, was a good idea.

Now, this doesn't mean that the world has changed.  Taking small parts led to nothing, really.  It most certainly did not lead to me "proving myself" and "working my way up".  That's all nonsense.  What did did, however, was fill up my schedule with a bunch of roles that were just not worthy of my time and energy.  Fine: that part was addressed by my "New Years Resolution".  But, let's not forget what I believe to be the big reason why I have so much trouble getting cast: my brown skin.  That's still there.

A couple of years ago, I auditioned for "Deathtrap" at a local community theatre company.  I went in with one other person: the two of us had arranged to audition early because of conflicts.  The director did not read our resumes.  He took one look at the other guy and one look at me.  He said he wanted the other guy to read for the lead, and he wanted me to read for a bit part.  I've heard people come up with many reasons for why he might have made this determination.  Maybe he didn't know me and he wanted someone that he knew could handle the demanding role?  Maybe, but he didn't know the other guy either.  The only answer that holds is that, even though the play doesn't state ethnicity and doesn't depend on it in any way, he decided that the lead character was white.  End of story.  People have said to me, by the way, that I should have told him I would like to read for the lead.  By the fact that he didn't want me to read for the lead, he had already made up his mind that I wasn't right for that part.  If I did read for that part, how likely is it that he would have said "oh my goodness, what was I thinking?"  It would just be a waste of time.

This was only one experience, but it was such a bad experience for me that I didn't go back to that theatre company.  I received e-mail audition announcements, and sometimes they looked good, but like hell if I was going to go back.  This company was on my "shit list".  Early this year, I saw a production there that was set in the 18th or 19th century.  Much to my surprise, they had cast an african american in it!  It was a small part, true, but it was a tiny hint of color-blind casting (I'll hesitate to actually call it color-blind casting, until I see an african american put in a major role).  I realized that it was wrong to condemn an entire theatre company for one director, and I would have to come back some time.

During rehearsal for the short play festival, a woman that was performing with me mentioned that she was directing a play at this same theatre company, and she had a part in mind for me.  I read the play, and I was impressed: I told her that I would be at the audition.  Now, I'm not going to say that this is a definite.  First, this is that same theatre company.  Second, I had auditioned for this woman before, at a different theatre company.  She told me that I auditioned well, but she didn't give me a part.  All the parts in the play were either too old or too young, she said.  I had assumed it was because the play was set in Scotland, and I'm a wee bit too brown.  The thing that upset me about this was that I received the "sorry" e-mail 3 1/2 hours after the audition.  I would like to think that I'm good enough that turning me away would be a difficult decision.  Oh well.  I guess not.

That audition is in November.  This theatre company was having an audition prior to that, for something called "A Perfect Ganesh".  A couple of people at the short play festival were very interested in that, and were bugging me to audition too.  So I did, last week.  Yes, a play set in India.  And . . . I was still turned away!  The play had two male characters.  One was the god, Ganesh.  This character is, apparently, masked, so it could be played by any ethnicity.  Most of the time, "it could be played by any ethnicity", by the way, translates to "white" . . . but surely not this case, with a Hindu god?  The other character is just called "man".  "Man" is different for each scene, and everything from the age to the ethnicity varied.

This time, the director called me to deliver the bad news.  He told me that I was the big surprise of the audition, that I was very good.  Okay . . . so why didn't I get a part?  To be perfectly blunt, I wasn't impressed with the other men that auditioned.  Yes, all the other men that auditioned were white, but I don't think this is a case of race.  It also wasn't age.  Ganesh could be any age.  "Man" varied in age, but I felt that he needed to be played by a younger actor . . . unfortunately, I think I was the youngest one there.  Like I said, I don't think it was race or age.  My theory here is that he had precast the parts.  I would wager that he wasn't expecting any men to show up.

Unfortunately, like I said, I wasn't impressed with the others that auditioned.  Only one other person auditioned for the part of Ganesh, so I assume he's the one that got the part.  He couldn't even pronounce the name!  And, like I had said, I think the other men were too old for the part of "Man".  This does not give me a warm fuzzy feeling about how this show will turn out!

Yes, an Indian auditioned for a play set in India, and they STILL cast white people!

Normally, after two rejections like this, I would write off this theatre company.  "So long."  But I did promise that I would come to the audition in November.  If I get the part, great . . . it looks like an interesting play and a challenging role.  Either way, I probably won't bother with this theatre company afterwards.  Unless someone explicitely asks me.  I guess.

"Blind" Casting

Last year, in my acting class, we were chatting about racial bias in casting.  The teacher spoke of a play he had directed.  He needed someone to play a senator. For some reason, the only person they could find to play the senator was black.  The play was set in the 1940's, so there wouldn't have been a black senator.  My teacher decided that they wouldn't make any big deal about this: they weren't going to explain how it was that he was a black senator; rather, it was simply that the actor that played the senator was black.  He remarked that it took the audience 30 seconds to get over that.

Acting has a strong visual element.  That's the nature of the business.  And that means that racial bias is allowed and fully accepted.  But there are other forms of bias.

I know one theatre company that, as a matter of policy, practices "blind" casting.  They had no problem casting me as Abner Dillon in "42nd Street", even though I look nothing like an Oklahoma millionaire from the 1940's.  Their willingness to perform "blind", aka "non-traditional", casting extends beyond just skin-color.  I just saw their performance of "Legally Blond".  The woman they chose to play the lead looked nothing like the part -- she was older, shorter, and more plump.  But she handled the part quite well.  By the ending, I don't think anyone minded how she looked.  The audience clearly enjoyed themselves.

I didn't "forget" the fact that she didn't look the part, but that was because every minute or so I said to myself "isn't it great that they cast someone based on talent, not looks?"  Of course, part of the reason I was so aware of that was . . . well . . . I really hated the show.  This theatre company did a GREAT job, no doubt at all . . . but I have decided that "Legally Blonde" is on my list of third worst musicals.

For those curious: my #1 worst musical is "Oliver".  2 minutes plot, then a song that goes on for another 5 minutes . . . and when the song runs out of steam, go on to a 10 minute extended dance sequence.  After maybe a half hour of this show, I was screaming to end this agony.

#2 worst musical: "42nd Street".  If you want to create a pageant of musical numbers that is a tribute to Busby Berkeley, be my guest.  But please, don't waste our time in trying to pretend you give a damn about telling a story or having a plot or having characters!  This show was dreadful!

#3 worst musical: "Legally Blonde".  When I saw the movie preview years ago, I said to myself "I have absolutely no interest in seeing this."  Adding songs to the show didn't change that.  This theatre group did a damn fine job, but I found myself almost smiling . . . once.  I didn't care about ANY of the characters, and the plot was utterly predictable.  It IS possible to have have-some-fun mindless-fluff and have it be good, but this wasn't it.

#4 worst musical: Oh, this one is difficult for me to decide.  I'm tempted to say "Every version of Cinderella ever made".  My goodness, this is the 21st century, and we are still telling our daughters a story where the lead character suffers through an abusive situation, waiting for a rich man to show up and rescue her!

Breaking Through Cliques

As people that know me know, there are certain community theatre groups that are essentially on my "shit list".  That number has reduced lately, however.  

There was one theatre company that is very near to my home, let's call them "A".  The first time I went there, I missed their audition, but they still needed to fill one more role, so they invited me to call-backs.  At the time, I had been working with the professional actors at Hedgerow, and my first reaction was "this is NOT Hedgerow!"  There were several of us auditioning for the part, and one man was chosen.  The directors made it clear, he was chosen because he looked the part.  Oh well.  The thing that saddens me is that this man dropped out of the play . . . I guess I wasn't anywhere on the "call him next" list.  I auditioned a second time for one of my favorite plays, even though I knew I wasn't right for any of the parts.  It was one of those "I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try" moments.  I didn't get a part, but a friend of mine got the lead.  She did a great job and has become a "big deal" because of it.  Okay, that meant two auditions at "A", and rejections both times.  

I decided to give "A" one more try, and this time . . . I felt as though I did really well with the audition.  The director seemed very impressed.  I felt pretty good . . . and then I got a rejection 3 1/2 hours later.  In other words, I was at the top of the first page of rejections.  "A" was now on my "shit list".

On a related note, there was still the other matter of another theatre company, let's call it "B", that fancies itself as being quite prestigious.  Several people have told me they are a bit stuck up.  I went to one audition there.  I was early because I had a conflict.  One other man auditioned with me.  The director, without having taken a look at our acting resumes and without knowing either of us, pointed to the other guy and said he wanted him to read for the lead part.  He pointed to me and said he wanted me to read for a bit part.  Oh, by the way, the other guy was white.  This shouldn't have mattered with this play, as ethnicity isn't mentioned in the play and has no relevance . . . but who cares?  The director saw him as white.  "B", for all its prestige, was on my "shit list".  Recently, however, I went to see a play there, set during the middle ages.  Surprise, surprise, there was an african american on the stage!  Sure, it was a small part, but at least he was cast!  I decided that I needed to give "B" another try some time in the future.  "B" was theoretically off the "shit list", but I hadn't been back there.

Back to "A" . . . 

One day, they were having auditions for a one-act festival.  A friend bugged me into going.  Even though "A" was on my "shit list", I went.  It was actually a very fun audition.  There were a lot of people there, and we all sat in the theatre as we were called up one at a time to do a monologue.  It was like a free show!  When it was my turn, I did a poem ("She Moves Through The Fair") and then transitioned to the closing monologue from "Angels in America".  I had to get to class, so I rushed out of there.  As I was leaving, a number of people were saying what a great job I did.  One guy reached back, hanging halfway out of the room, to shake my hand.  When I got back in my car, I was surprised at how this hit me.  I actually am good at this . . . and yet I can never seem to get a part.

It took a month or so for them to sort out who would be in what play at the festival.  I was expecting a "nothing" part that I would turn down.  I received the script and my part was a sort of "evil genius".  Okay, they had my interest!  For the first rehearsal . . . remember the third play I auditioned for at "A", and was rejected after 3 1/2 hours?  The director of that play was in this play.  She said I audition well . . . okay, I thought, but I was rejected pretty quickly.  She remarked that my age was the issue -- all the parts were either too young or too old.  Okay.  I assumed that it was my dark skin, and the fact that the play was set in Scotland.  

By the second rehearsal, she started bugging me to audition for a play she would be directing.  The audition is in October, the performance will be in February.  Ready for this one?  This play will be at "B"!  I asked her to show me the script.  After reading it, I came back to her and said "if you want me, I'm in."  It looks like a very interesting work!  

It was just the three of us (remember that this is a 10-minute play) and the director.  We met and rehearsed for several weeks.  My character changed about six times before the director finally found something that he liked.  

Then, tech week.  This was where we got to meet and work with the rest of the cast for the rest of the short plays.  There were a LOT of people here!  I came to realize something: I don't have a shabby history for theatre involvement, but I've only worked with maybe three people there.  I realized that "A" and "B" were a sort of "clique".  They had never heard of Viviana, and Barnstormers . . . well, they were old, falling apart, and couldn't even get an audience nowadays.  

So, these people didn't know me.  First tech rehearsal, I went on stage.  I did my part, and when I came downstairs to the green room, people were congratulating me.  It would seem that I did a great job.  The show opened, and this happened performance after performance.  People were telling me that someone-or-another wanted to meet me, because they felt I was the high-point of the play.  Sometimes, when the audience was a bit quiet, people would say that they were counting on me to get some laughs out of them.  

I came out of that three-week run having gained some respect.  This is good, but it's also a problem.  I was cast because they try to cast everyone for this show.  It was 11 short plays, and they needed people.  I took that opportunity, and they got to see how good I am.  More importantly, they got to see the guy they kept turning away.  I wonder if they learned anything from this.  

I learned something, however.  I learned that I actually am good at this.  I have more chances opening up for me, and maybe I'll take them . . . but I feel to this the way I feel to many cliques: I don't want to be a part of it!  Both "A" and "B" are off my shit list.  I didn't see any more shows at "A" that interested me, but there are maybe two at "B" that are on my list.

During this run, a play I wrote was performed at a short play festival in New York City.  That is where my attention is right now.  I want to put on another show in New York City.  I want to find a way to raise the money, I want to either write the script or find a script, and I want to do it!  It's a cliche, yes, but how can I be satisfied with community theatre in a suburb of Philadelphia after seeing one of my plays performed in New York City?