Ostensibly

8 April 2010

I'm cheating a little. The random word site is down, so until it comes back up this will have to be a slightly more traditional blog. Just wanted to be honest and straight with you, in the spirit of the General Election which we are currently enduring. A littlebitofnutmeg has promised me words to tide me over, starting with this one.

So though ostensibly this is a random word blog, it's not following quite the same rules.

See what I did there?

Of course if you skip these words in too easily then you don't have anything to write about, so you haven't done yourself any favours.

I attended my first "company audition" today. That - for those who couldn't give a shit about acting - is an audition where you are not going for a part in a play, but to join a company and be eligible to audition for parts. Ostensibly it is to maintain the overall quality of the acting troupe, but having gone through the process I'm not so sure. While you are there they take the opportunity to lecture you about helping out in other jobs - Front of House, Lighting, Painting the Set, walking the artistic director's poodle etc - coming to as many plays as possible and being a good citizen in general. Then they take money from you as soon as you qualify, sometimes using a flick-knife left over from a performance of West-side Story. So I wonder if it isn't an administrative ploy to pass everyone through the same bottle-neck so that you can disseminate your message to them and then get them to open their wallets. I wouldn't be surprised if they hadn't attached a small tracking device below the skin of a our fingers when they shook our hands so that they can check what you're doing when you say you're too busy to help out.

Sorry. A little cynical. In their favour they were very nice, though the chosen audition room did resemble something out of a 1950s nuclear bunker. The audition coordinator said we could use anything lying around as props if we wanted, but all that was lying around was a rusty bucket and some wire coat hangers. Perhaps if you were doing a piece set in the Tate Modern you could quickly knock up some accompanying art to lend verisimilitude. If I'd known the environment, I could have chosen something post-apocalyptic, instead of two scenes theoretically set in Greece. There must have been something from The West Wing set in Ainsley Hayes' office that would have been perfect.

I passed, anyway. And paid my money. One day I may find out how many people don't pass. Until that day I shall not feel remotely self-satisfied, since it could be that all I needed to do was not grunt like a baboon, drop my pants and take a shit on the audition panel's desk.

That's not even a joke. Acting attracts some novel personalities.