Got Ukulele, Will Travel

DUDES. There is a ukulele in my living room and tomorrow it will be joined by an autoharp. My place is being overtaken by the Ridiculous Instrument Brigade. Here’s the scoop: I’m in the middle of rehearsals for Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night over at Theatre in the Round. It’s set in 1960s Cape Cod, and seeing as my character, Feste, is a complete anachronism of the era (since when have we kept paid comedians about the house?), my director has created an alternative. An alternative that is going to be, by far, one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done onstage.

I, as Feste, will be playing him/her as a Drag King a la one Mr. Murray Hill. I've never played a woman playing a 60s era male hepcat comedian before. Oh, and did I mention that through the singing parts I will be accompanying myself on the ukulele and autoharp, both of which I don’t yet know how to play? And we open in a little over a month. So, um, I’m a little nervous. I’M COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT.

Totally waiting for the admission of hidden cameras and everyone to come out laughing, but it’s just not happening…

How to Succeed in Business by Trying Really Hard and Freaking Out About It…

…or All the Tedious Details of How I Got Cast in Twelfth Night at Theater in the Round in a Role Usually Played By Men and Liked It November 29th: The Neverending Audition 7 pm - Arrived at the theater, signed in, then dutifully found a corner on the floor of the overly-actory lobby and reviewed my monologue roughly a million times.

8 pm – scored a coveted spot on what would turn out to be a very hard bench. Saw some familiars, traded witty banter at various intervals between the million-and-first and billionth reviews of my monologue.

9 pm – after getting out of her audition, a girl announced to her “friend” that it went REALLY well. Her monologue, she continued, was Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing. Damnit. Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing was the monologue I was REALLY reviewing for the trillionth time. Gah.

10:07 pm – “Leigha Horton, you’re on deck.” Thank GOD. I stand up and stretch and forget my entire monologue. Continue to obsess over monologue until called onto stage.

10:15 pm – called onto stage.

10:18 pm – Them: “Thanks Leigha, that was great! We’ll be calling people tonight to let them know if we’d like to see them again at tomorrow night’s callbacks.” Me: Tonight? Really? You’re going to be up pretty late! Them: yeah, well…

10:30 pm - Get home and want to crash, but instead phone Monkey with all the details. He tries to remind me of my official “Audition, Then Forget About It” Rule (if I don’t hear back, no big deal; if I do, it’s party time), and I try to explain how this one is different. How I really, really want this, and really think that I am able to do the show justice - me and Bill are tight, monkey! TIGHT. At this point I have officially become tired and whiny. Not the sexiest of states, but whatever – I’ve got needs. Rules no longer apply.

11:30 pm - no call. I go to bed very, very sad.

November 30: Wake up, still very sad.

In the afternoon, I get an e-mail explaining that David’s decision is way harder than he anticipated, and he needs more time to pull together the list of names for callbacks. The Horton Happy Dance ensues...I have not been officially denied yet. There is hope. SWEET. And then I realize that it just means more waiting and wondering. Horton Happy Dance comes to an abrupt stop.

December 3: I get a call from the Stage Manager – David would like to see me again at callbacks on December 6. Score. Resume HHD.

December 6: The Neverending Callback 6:30 pm until 10:45 pm. Callbacks. I’m there. Cool. Some of the mean people at the first auditions haven’t been called back. Also cool. Learn fascinating things about strangers while waiting in the lobby. Get called in to read three or four times over the course of the first three hours. Learn that fellow actor Stephen Frethem and I grew up about three houses down from each other when we were kids. Nothing for the last hour, watch proudly as the former strangers marry and bear children, get dismissed. Head home. Squeal all the details to Monkey. Sleep.

December 7?: It’s all just a blur now Get the call from David that I was funny and he’d like to cast me in the role of Feste. AKA The Clown. AKA the really clever, funny, exceptionally well-written part that’s always played by men. And then I said, "Let me understand this, ‘cause, I don't know maybe it's me, I'm a little fucked up maybe, but I'm funny how? I mean, funny like I'm a clown, I amuse you? I make you laugh... I'm here to fuckin' amuse you? What do you mean funny, funny how? How am I funny?"

Oh, wait, that was Joe Pesci in Goodfellas. I told you it’s all kind of blurry. I actually said something like, “YES!—wait, what? Feste? Really? That is a SWEET role, but I’m a girl. Well hell, if you want me to play Feste, I will play Feste. Cool.”

So there we have it…angst and sadness and joy and swearing-that-never-happened all wrapped up in a freak package just so that I can be your clown. Dig.

9:07 am CST, 11:07 pm HKT

So busy. So, so, SO busy. Consider this just a quick update – knowing that I’ll be able to share the cool stories accompanying it all during my upcoming vacation. Cool busy thing number one: The WTO ministerial is happening in Hong Kong this week, and therefore I am reporting for the Institute of Agriculture and Trade Policy’s Radio Hong Kong daily. They send me the news they want covered, I record it here in the U.S. of A., then upload it to the IATP website. Then Foster and Tyson, a couple of the many IATP staffers actually IN Hong Kong right now, compile it with the interviews they took that day and release the little bugger to the world.

Cool busy thing number two: I got cast in my favorite Shakespeare play, Twelfth Night, at Theatre in the Round. David Mann is directing, and I really have no idea who the rest of the cast is yet. We’ll perform in February and March.

Cool busy thing number three: I’ve officially had more auditions through Lipservice since starting a little over a month ago than I had last year with my two non-union agents combined. Sweet.

Annnnd DONE. Ttfn.

String Cheese Theory

Ever think about how to make the word "crunchy" sound appealingly crunchy when spoken aloud? Or about how the flavors chocolate, peanut butter, and vanilla cream all taste different, and therefore should sound different when spoken? The psychology behind advertising copy, and the subsequent voicing of it to cause craving by audiences, is really quite fascinating. It makes me feel like I need to step up my voice-over game substantially, because just “reading well” certainly isn’t going to cut it. I need to make people want things. Last Sunday morning I sat in on Lipservice founder Shirley Venard's voice-over class. Good lord, is she amazing. Wow. Wow. I admit that I've often had trouble reading commercial copy because on paper it seems so lifeless and smarmy. She completely revolutionized my way of reading copy – and frankly, it will now get the same deconstruction method as I set upon works by The Bard himself. And I know that last sentence totally sounds like a line from an infomercial, but I actually mean it – this is deep stuff, my friend.

After spending an entire evening tape-recording and then transcribing commercial copy off of the television, and some significant weeding through the Lipservice script files, I have whittled the choices down to a list of strong contenders for copy that will eventually make it on to my commercial voice demo - Park Nicollet, Staples, Olay, Pantene, Toyota, General Mills, United Way, Audi, and Target. I think I might also try to get my hands on a copy of the British Television Advertising Awards to drop in a piece or two with RP (Standard British accent). I haven't even started with the narrative voice demo yet, but I’m thinking I might yank something from Ken Burns’ Jazz series and that killer Nova special on Quantum Physics/String Theory.

Here's an odd question for you - do you have a favorite commercial (is that even possible?) that relies on good copy rather than sight gags that I should consider for inclusion in my demo? My ad agency friends might have a leg-up on this one. Do share.

Lipservice Talent Guild

I have a secret that finally gets to leave Hushville. ‘member when I told you about my belly-flop into audio Geekdom and there being a reason for it, but then I got all sneaky and offered up The Weebit Proposition to distract you? Well, you now get to know the reason. While you’re reading this, think of Spiderman II and replace Toby McGuire with me in that scene where he’s walking all happy-dreamy in slo-mo to Burt Bacharach’s “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head.” Imagine that (interspersed with the I’m-so-excited-I’m-going-to-vomit feeling) is how I’ve felt for the past several weeks and you get the picture. Are you so excited to hear the secret now? It shall sound like beans spilling. And Burt Bacharach.

Now then, here we go: (cue can opener and piano) On the evening of Monday, September 26, 2005, Minneapolis celebrated its first annual Ameriprise Financial Ivey Awards. The awards ceremony was flashy and sponsory and wonderful and wonderfully short. One of the awards presenters was my pal Leah Cooper, Executive Director of the Minnesota Fringe Festival, the very same Fringe Festival for which I served as Voice of the Fringe in their first-ever foray into podcasting. She presented an award to Steve Hendrickson for his stellar performance in the title role of 10,000 Things’ Cyrano de Bergerac. Stay with me, this is pertinent.

At the after-party, Cooper tells me about the following mix-up and exceptionally kind compliment intended for this Leigha rather than that Leah, which went something like this:

Steve: Are you Leigha? Leah: Yes, I’m Leah. Steve: Leigha Fringe Festival Leigha? Leah: Yes, that’s me. Steve: Your voice. In those podcasts. Was incredible. Leah: Ohhhh, THAT Leigha. No, that’s not me. That’s The Other Leigha.*

*No offense taken by being called “The Other Leigha” - we call ourselves that because we're geeks and think it's cute - mix-ups between the two of us are old hat.

So anyway, I hear this from Cooper and want to squeal - it’s just so rewarding to still be getting shout-outs for my work on the Fringe podcasts. But I don’t squeal (I think). Instead, I become determined to track this guy down and thank him.

Turns out he’s ridiculously easy to find online. An e-mail conversation takes place, and two weeks later we’re meeting over coffee at his suggestion to discuss Lipservice, a talent guild to which he belongs.

I know Lipservice – Lipservice is an exclusive group of 30 of the best and brightest voice and on-camera talent in the Twin Cities, with a lot of them doing killer stage work to boot. Lipservice is union (AFTRA), and has the voice-over market in the Twin Cities cornered. Cornered. What I find out over coffee is that Lipservice was started in 1973, is artist-owned (cool!), and wants me to join their ranks. Wait, WHAT? Yes, Lipservice wants me to join their ranks. I just about passed out.

I can’t even begin to describe the absolute joy and honor and comfort I felt in learning more about Lipservice…it just feels like a perfect fit - this artist-owned concept is right up my alley, I love the easy access to mentors who have been doing this for years and years, and I love how flipping intelligent and talented and kind everyone is. And accessible! No more playing the Hey Agent, Remember Me? Game. Dude. DUDE.

There was another meeting with the Membership Committee, there were more e-mails. There was a vote amongst the Lipservice members, there was acceptance of my entry, there was a contract. There was signing of said contract on Thursday, and there was my first audition on Friday afternoon (with a mentor, even). I have another audition this upcoming Friday. I have to point out here that I've gotten the same number of auditions in the last week from Lipservice that I got from my other two agents combined over the past two months.

The Leigha Horton Happy Dance won’t even cut it this time – it’s serious sparkle-fairy-angel-floaty-ether-dance time. Watchout, these elf ears are comin'atcha!

So, go have a looksee – Lipservice Talent Guild is my new actory home.

The New Headshots Need YOU!

My new headshots are in, and I’m looking for your opinion! The photographer monkey and I did a shoot last Saturday evening, and we’ve whittled the choices down to these three. Ultimately, I would like to go with two headshots demonstrating different moods to match any given project for which I’m auditioning – the smiley one for the comedies and one of the two serious ones (this is where I need your help) for the dramas.

Right now there’s a bit of a tie amongst the family and friends who have seen them, so please take a look and tell me which of the serious girls you prefer. It’s like our own little reality show where you get to vote for something to leave, and all of the choices are me.

Also, I think the photographer monkey would appreciate the mention that the smiley photo is going to be re-shot due to the lighting being a bit off…he lightened it up as much as possible in Photoshop, but now it looks kind of weird.

Vote on, my friends.

The Mr. Boban Experience

Saturday night I saw the closing performance of Live Action Set’s Please Don’t Blow Up Mr. Boban, a 90-minute wartime romp through the joy and grit of humanity re-mounted post-Fringe Festival at The Loring Playhouse. Overall, a beautiful, moving piece of performance-dance-theater that certainly deserved all the praise it received. There were a few places where I recognized modified improvisation warm-up games which could have certainly been left out of the piece and rendered it just as, if not more, effective, but they also helped establish a supportive group dynamic that was palpable. The story centered around a bistro owner, Mr. Boban, whose shop is bombed, his brother a casualty of that bombing, yet continued on as the townspeople’s safe-haven on both literal and figurative levels. Between a rebel that took up residence in Boban’s refrigerator and the soul of a dead little girl who stuck around until her photograph-plastered mother found her, it was at once surprisingly funny and heartbreaking. The most touching part of the evening, however, was when an audience member on the other side of the stage (the performance played in the round) began to silently cry during a particularly moving scene. The young boy that he was with, perhaps 11, noticed, scooted closer to his friend and extended his little arm up to try and embrace the grown-up's shoulders. His arm couldn’t quite reach all the way around, but the sentiment was clear. Sadly, children are often far more empathetic than we tend to notice when we’re wading in our own moments.

So since this is my website and I’m an actress and therefore have an obligation of self-servitude to fulfill, I have to interpret the Mr. Boban experience in a way that speaks directly to my personal dramas of the moment. Ready? O-KAY!:

I walked away from the theater feeling a bit melancholy and realized that being a part of that audience made me miss the stage even more than I already have been missing it. Voice-over work is certainly gratifying, but rather lonely at the same time; I want to work in an ensemble again, I want to feel the energy of a room and dance with it. Well, dance with it in an actor way, not a dancer way (although the two forms are being integrated more and more in the work I see lately).

Over the past month or two, I’ve been checking out tctheatreandfilm.org for audition listings, but not every company/venue lists there. And the old stand-by, the Star Tribune 550’s, is something that I don’t go out and buy on Sundays because I already get the New York Times – I think that I should be able to get the same info through the Star Tribune online, but no such luck. The STrib online classifieds are really quite terrible, actually – more so since they changed their search engine preventing one from viewing all submissions under the 550 header. So there we have it: half-assed searching for stage work, and nothing to show for it. Surprising? Nope. Disappointing? Yep.

Alas, (alack?) it’s time to stop screwing around. I’ve officially hit a plateau in the Twin Cities, and plateaus are sad and scary and lame; so here is my stage-acting agenda for the next two weeks:

1. Get a new headshot (thank you, photographer monkey) and 100 laser prints;
2. Decide on three new audition monologues (contemporary, classic, Shakespeare) and MEMORIZE them;
3. Start actively seeking out stage auditions, and specifically request auditions for the Children’s Theater Company and The Guthrie. It’s time.

Donations accepted. Wish me luck.

The Sonic Youth of Leigha Horton: An Aural Adventure

Since I’ve recently taken the deep plunge into podcasting (see Minnesota Fringe Festival or Radio Hong Kong for examples), my web monkey has been introducing me to extra-special internet treats that are helping me understand the technical aspects. Extra-Special Internet Treat Number One is from Systm – “a downloadable how-to technology show geared towards teaching the common geek various hot topics and projects. Each episode focuses on one subject and is between 10-15 minutes in length.” Episode 4 – Podcasting demonstrates the quick and dirty of the form; from recording to digitization to web. The episode is pretty accessible, although they do assume that you have a basic understanding of computers. If you were able to get on the internet and read this, you’re a-okay.

Extra-Special Internet Treat Number Two is Audacity – a free, open-source audio-editing program. I’m just starting to get a feel for it, rather tricky since I don’t have prior knowledge of audio software or a manual; but this girl’s got a little geek and a lot of curiosity in her and that’s all it takes, right?

Armed with my newfound podcasting knowledge and recording capabilities (ha!), I spent an entire evening last week recording commercials off the television and then transcribing them into Word. One thing I learned through this tedious process is that commercials aren’t nearly as obnoxious when I don't care about the programming…hunting them down and then deconstructing them is rather satisfying – even if rather cumbersome with a VCR. So I’ve been toying with recording these commercial scripts over the past several days, experimenting with pitch and pace and energy, and it’s been extremely helpful – even though a bit narcissistic. I’m an actor; narcissism should come as no surprise (I write a blog, for crying out loud).

With all the tech-treats in mind, one might wonder if there’s a reason for this belly-flop into Geekdom. There is a reason, and a good one at that, but it must remain under wraps for a wee bit longer. Okay, okay, it involves my strong desire to make “wee bit” into one word: weebit. Wouldn’t that be awesome? Weebit. SO CUTE! That would rank right up there in my list of all-time favorite words to say joining such notables as “button” and “pumpkin.” KIDDING. Kind of. Seriously though, I will share the reason (that makes me so excited that I want to vomit) at a later date when said reason is fully formalized. Until then, you’ll just have to settle for the weebit proposition.

Radio Hong Kong: Episode II

Radio Hong Kong: Episode II is now available for download via radiohongkong.org or iTunes. And thank god. My hope is that it will overshadow the droll awfulness that was my contribution to episode one (If you think I’m going to provide a direct link to that thing, you can think again – and please don’t purposefully seek it out, because it will only make you bored-yet-strangely-irritated, and I find the bored-yet-strangely-irritated rather disquieting. Mind the gap. Thank you). The episode one issue at hand is that Foster, bless his heart, made me believe that my performance was good and that it sounds all NPRish. Just for the record: it wasn’t and it didn’t. The next time I think I can get away with “phoning it in,” I need to think again, because this is audible proof that I can’t. It just sounds, well, boring and strangely irritating. Point taken? Good.

Josh Friedman is my Hero

A month or two ago, I was introduced to kottke.org (thanks to a special web monkey). I’ve never been one for generalized web surfing because as soon as a blank Google page is in front of me, I end up deer-headlighty…I just sit there, unmoving, eyes glazed, synapses in a state of incomprehensible hyper-drive. kottke.org takes all the pressure off because it provides a kajillion starting points. Recently, due to a link on Kottke’s site, I was led to the blog of Josh Friedman, a snarky, honest, painfully funny screenwriter in California, just outside of LA proper. He’s credited with writing early drafts of War of the Worlds (latest Spielberg version), as well as writing Chain Reaction and The Black Dahlia (2006 release with Minneapolis local "it boy" Josh Hartnett and Scarlett Johansson) – I haven’t seen any of these, but no matter. Since Friedman's blog is a brother/screenwriter version in spirit to my actor blog, and he’s a far superior writer, I wanted to share. Even though he thinks all actors are crazy. And even though he’s mainly right.

Go forth and laugh, dearests. There is a Variety article, some shellack, and an ex-girlfriend/actress waiting for you.

Dear BBC World News, it's Me, Leigha

The creation of Radio Hong Kong: Episode I is fully underway and will be live on IATP's Radio Hong Kong subsite tomorrow. Last night’s recording session with Foster at IATP was brilliant – the script was tight, the one re-write was totally painless, and the words flowed like words do when they get all flowy. I, given the last sentence, was obviously not the writer. Today at 4:45 pm, I received this e-mail:

Could you come back in tonight? There's a FUCKING HISS all over everything.

Feh. FEH!

M

There was a stupid faulty cable that had to be positioned just so to provide hiss-free sound. The hiss was so bad that they couldn’t even minimize it to a point of usefulness in post. One would think that we would have heard this during playback, but one would be wrong.

Back I went to re-recordingville. Tonight did not rock nearly as hard as Tuesday, but it was acceptable. I kept yawning which made Foster keep yawning which made the recording session go a bit longer than planned because it kept making us laugh and whine about how tired we were; but all in all, we did good. I got a giddy call from Foster a few hours later saying that the edited piece is sounding exactly like something one would hear on NPR. Not that we want to rip off their style or anything – the point is that it sounds awesome.

I think it’s time to get a voice-demo out to the agencies. Reppe said he’d toss one together for me for free (since he has all the unedited Fringe Podcast recordings on his computer) – I shall call him. Yes, yes, I shall call him, and we shall make money. Money would be nice.

Podcast begets Podcast

This week will bring the first recording session for my newest podcasting gig: Radio Hong Kong. Because of the Fringe Festival podcasts, I was approached by the Institute for Agriculture and Trade Policy (IATP) to be their host for Radio Hong Kong, a podcast that reports on their International Fair Trade Fair and Symposium. The fair is specifically held to coincide with the annual World Trade Organization (WTO) ministerial (in Hong Kong this year); and showcases “certified fair-trade products from around the world,” while focusing “on topics relevant to WTO delegates as well as visiting producers.” It is my understanding that IATP takes a balanced stance in response to the WTO – they assert that the purpose of the WTO is a positive, but that it is poorly mismanaged by large, self-interested corporations that should instead forge a more democratic approach including wider markets. This is all very new to me and I need to do quite a bit of research on the matter, so I may be entirely wrong in what IATP’s views are… Updates on that to follow.

I have been told that there is extremely high web traffic on IATP’s site during the fair, and that last year’s podcasts were downloaded 6,000+ times. I’d say that’s pretty good exposure, and I’m doubly lucky that I'll again be working on something that I believe in.

The Empire Strikes Back

Take a flying guess who I was forced to read with at last Tuesday’s audition. Ready? It was Mr. PSA himself – the same fellow from the last awful audition. After a couple of bum auditions at this venue and a strikingly bad vibe from the space itself (duly noted by Nathan who auditioned the night before), I’m starting to think of this place as the Evil Empire. And no, for anyone taking bets, it’s not the Guthrie. So even though Mr. PSA arrived and checked-in 45 minutes after I did, he ended up getting assigned to me due to the male-to-female ratio. Reid and Erik were there with me (Reid was planned, Erik I happily bumped in to), and Reid did what he could to not get the giggles – it was a noble effort, but not entirely successful.

To quote a light-hearted but dissatisfied Reid, “merr.”

For those of you unfamiliar with the sound, it’s kind of beepy, but in a sad, recalcitrant muppet sort of way.

Ah well, onwards and upwards.

How do you spell relief? F-A-I-L-U-R-E

Last Wednesday I auditioned at a reputable theater that shall remain nameless, and I am SO relieved I didn’t get cast that I could just squeal. The disquieting daymare unfolded thusly: Upon arrival at the audition space, I get paired to read with a seemingly over-trained younger fellow – so methodical that he teeters on a permanent state of awkward. We receive our side (portion of the script to audition with) and agree to read it over separately before rehearsing it together.

I sit and try to read while two of the nine other actors in the lobby have some sort of presentational (read: “aren’t we so cute and likeable and don’t you wish you were our friend?”) domestic dispute. Apparently the guy did something in the theater that “wasn’t right,” and when they reemerge he finds himself on the receiving end of a slap attack – the girl actually flails at him. “What’d I do?!” he screeches. Her answer is a power-play demonstrated by a cool turn in the other direction and an overly-composed walk to the other side of the lobby, followed by a fake-pouting, “you know what you did.”

I return my focus to the script: page two, the characters are physically flirtatious. Page three, they kiss. Wait, kiss? What kind of a director keeps a kissing scene in an audition side? And the attendant said we are to read the whole thing – that means the kiss happens. Damn.

So Mr. PSA and I go into a back room to rehearse, before which, may I note, he digs into his backpack and pops a mint. I can’t figure out if this is considerate or slimy. I later decide it’s both.

Mr. PSA: How comfortable are you with physical boundaries? Me: Fine. How should we handle this kissing business? Mr. PSA: I think we should go for it. Me: [awkward pause] um, Okay.

Okay? Okay?! Why did I say that?! I’d really rather not kiss this kid. It’s not that he’s ugly or anything, it’s just so unnecessary to kiss at an audition. Then again, it’s ridiculous to mime it – neither of the options are ideal.

We get into the theater, and the director addresses me quizzically:

Director: [reading my name off of my headshot] Lee-ga? Me: [polite, friendly] oh, it’s “Lee-ah” Director: [long pause, more staring at my headshot] You know, when the ‘e’ comes before the ‘i’ like that, it’s pronounced ‘ay’ (like hay)]. Me: [attempting to be cute and clever] Yes, but if you take away the ‘a’ on the end, the name is pronounced “Lee,” not “Lay” – so it’s “Lee-ah” Director: [disbelief] uhhhh…. Me: [acquiescing] Yeah, my mom got a little creative… Director: Well, [pointedly] I guess you’ll pronounce your name however you like. [beat] So, Mr. PSA, it’s nice to see you again - what have you been working on lately?

In the movies, this is usually the kind of exchange between some old salt and a subordinate that’s followed by, “I like you, you’ve got spunk!,” and a promotion. But there was no light-hearted response; it looks like this was a test that I failed. There are few things worse in theater than a director who forces you to contradict him but then doesn’t acknowledge or care for you respectfully standing your ground.

We go on to perform the scene, and right as we are centimeters from kissing the director says, “thank you” (directorspeak for “you can stop now”) and I turn my head just in time to get kissed on the cheek. Yesss! But Mr. PSA doesn’t hear the director and continues. The director says louder, “oh, you’ve rehearsed this part – keep going.” Mr. PSA hears that, there's some floundering and then he backs up to the line before the kiss. Arrrrgh! The awkward kiss happens, I phone in the rest of the script, the director thanks us again, we walk out of the theater, I leave without saying goodbye to Mr. PSA.

On the drive home I felt like I needed to take a shower, not because of Mr. PSA, but because I felt compromised – I took things that are meaningful to me – my name, my kiss – and devalued them to impress someone who didn’t care. All for a stupid audition. Yes, sometimes failure is a good thing.

Do-Over!!!

Oh man, I just saw more edited footage of The Monster of Phantom Lake, and dang, it looks good. So why the title of this post? I’ll tell you why. In that same footage I noticed a huge continuity flaw with my hair. “Huge” only because it’s based on vanity; but noticeable nonetheless (and therefore something seemingly worth obsessing over).

The offending issue: by the time we got to shooting the last two scenes on the schedule, my curling iron had jumped off this world’s Functioning-Gadget Coil. Being that I work for an arts non-profit, my hair remained markedly straight for scenes 28 and 30 (the final scene). Big whoop, right? Yes, it IS a big whoop because I HAD FORGOTTEN THAT I WAS IN SCENE 29. The same scene 29 that gave us 89% humidity and a 3 a.m. wrap-up. Oh yes, curly-haired scene 29.

In an ideal world where scene 29 didn’t exist, it could have been accepted that Ms. Stephanie Yates set her hair in curlers before she left University for her study-weekend with Professor Jackson, but after a full day-and-a-half of tromping through the woods the curls naturally fell. BUT since scene 29 DOES exist, it looks like the curls had naturally fallen come scene 28, but upon arrival at the teenagers’ campsite (scene 29) Ms. Yates appears to have been attacked by woodland creatures with curling-irons.

I can’t wait to see the curly-to-straight-again transition from scene 29 to 30.

Storybook Voice: “Yes, children, on the other side of the forest, there are woodland creatures with flattening-irons. These two opposing gangs of style-savvy fauna have turf wars with one another involving jazz choreography and snappy musical numbers. There’s no killing, just some nasty scorch marks and the distinct odor of burning fur.”

And the worst part of it all – the hair looks way better straight (especially considering the humidity during the first few weeks of shooting was making my curls all weird and gross anyway). Gaaah!

I wonder what the director would say if I requested a re-shoot of scenes 1-27, + 29? Kidding, only kidding.

Cue Music: When you’re a bear, you’re a bear!…

Exeunt.

The Kissing Scene

Last weekend we finished filming The Monster of Phantom Lake. The final scenes included the ultimate destruction of the monster costume by having the monster walk into, and then for the sake of the movie, out of, the lake. It looked pretty sweet, and our monster was a total sport. Especially despite the forced re-takes caused by the speed-boat morons in the background trailing a water-skier (it’s illegal to have gas-powered watercraft on that particular lake). Then there was the kiss. The kiss that we decided not to rehearse for the sake of making it look spontaneous, the same kiss that ended with the cheesy cheek-to-cheek post-kiss bit (where we’re both facing the same direction and looking dreamily off into space) a la Doris Day and Rock Hudson. Or Shirley Jones and Gordon MacRae. Or Judy Garland and Tom Drake. Yes, my father raised me watching musicals, and I couldn’t help but open my big trap to make the suggestion - once spoken, it simply had to be done. I always thought it looked dorky when I watched it happen in those old films, now I can safely report that it feels at least twice as dorky as it looks.

So, now it’s editing time - I can’t wait to see it all finished and shiny with a score and everything. Although I am terrified of the audience response, and wish the Riverview Theater had secret two-way mirrors facing everyone so I could watch their reactions. Alas, no such luck. This is where the lack of immediate feedback just kills me... between on-camera work and voice work, I won't know until long after the fact if I've engaged the audiences or not, and can’t make adjustments based on the energy in the room. We’ll just have to wait and see… wait… and… see…

Five points if you can name the source of that last line – because my memory is terrible.

Matched Set: Minneapolis

I stumbled across a great article, Matched Sets: The Pen and the Voice, in last Sunday’s New York Times Arts & Leisure section – a tidbit, if you will:

A playwright's best fortune is to share the profession with actors whose mouths seem shaped to fit his words. Jason Robards deftly personified the written worlds of Eugene O'Neill (even if the playwright didn't live long enough to see any of the actor's definitive performances). During the past two decades, Edward Albee's exacting syntax has been very nicely voiced by Marian Seldes and Rosemary Harris. And recently, the moody, ruminative Ron Rifkin completed his latest stint as mouthpiece of choice for the moody, ruminative playwright Jon Robin Baitz, in "The Paris Letter."

It then goes on to dissect the pairings of Neil Simon to Matthew Broderick; Terrence McNally to Nathan Lane; and Christopher Durang to Kristine Nielsen. The best part:

Mr. McNally has said he hears Mr. Lane's voice when he writes and never has to tell the actor how to deliver a line. The playwright seems to employ Mr. Lane as his onstage id, instilling in the characters he writes for him his own passions…

After finishing the article, it made me realize that Foster’s (my MoCW cohort) and my relationship is more normal than I thought. I have often fretted about how well we work together – “This is really easy - does this mean that I am hereby pigeonholed into his words? Is he pigeonholed into my characterizations? Will I lose my ability to aptly voice Havel? Stoppard? Kushner? Shakespeare?” Will I ever hear another writer/director say “Yes! Do that, always.”

Apparently there is no need to fret, because the big kids do it all the time and walk away unscathed.

But like every person in a healthy relationship, I also recognize that outside inspiration is a must. I have every intention to actively pursue diversity in my resume – I will keep auditioning for outside projects and continue to “forge new alliances” (damn you, corporatespeak!) and all that, but it’s comforting to know that I have a theatrical home. One where the words start out as his and become ours...the words like our very own little babies – the funny kind of babies that come from gay men and bossy women. Sweet.

Denied. Again.

Almost two weeks ago I auditioned for a show at Theatre in the Round. This is a non-paying community theater, yet highly respected (so much so that some audiences don’t think you’ve “made it” as an actor in the Twin Cities until you’ve performed there – I will refrain from elaborating on how narrow-minded I think this is considering our vibrant arts community – but that mentality exists and I wanted to note it). When I checked in for my audition, they handed me the paperwork I needed to complete along with a contact information card that they keep on file, presumably forever. On the back of this card was a very rude awakening: a list of the shows that I’ve auditioned for since the card was first filled out. In 1998. Even though I hate math, I did some anyway and realized that in the SEVEN YEARS I’ve been auditioning for Theatre in the Round, I have never been cast. Ouch.

Granted, I don’t think I’ve ever auditioned there in front of the same director. And I’ve been on the other side of the casting table plenty of times and know what the process is like, but still – seven years?! I get paid stage gigs now with some regularity. I get paid film gigs and voice gigs and any number of other uncategorized gigs – hell, I even get pre-cast! But I can’t land a role at Theatre in the Round? What am I doing wrong?

So, as I’m sure you’ve guessed by now – I didn’t get cast for this latest show. The director did, however, send me a very kind e-mail commending me for a strong cold-read and for making him laugh. He also shared that I was his second choice for a specific role. I didn’t really know how to respond to that... um, “hope your first choice drops out?” But then I remembered that if it sounds like a bad idea, it probably is one. I thanked him politely and gave myself a little, mental, pat on the back for pretending to be an adult.

So, I have a few options for my next goal (in terms of Theatre in the Round):

1) Continue this adult trend and keep auditioning like a good sport (boring but respectable/humiliating – it depends on when you ask me); 2) Keep auditioning until I get cast once, consider it a coup, and then never audition there again; 3) Do everything I can to make it BIG, and then continue to audition there and make not-getting-cast into a sport.

Option #1 it probably is – ‘cause I’m an adult. Sigh.

Kickin' Back with Cooper: The Last Podcast

The fifth and final *sniff, sniff* Fringe Podcast is now available for download at either the Minnesota Fringe Festival website or at iTunes. It’s far less commercial-y than the last four – just me interviewing Leah Cooper about the final attendance numbers, the percentage increase over last year, the reason Fringe is such a success, and why the Fringe is such an asset to the arts community and the Twin Cities community at-large, among other questions. There are also tidbits here and there from interviews with staff, volunteers, performers, and audience members taken at Fringeville by my rockstar podcast co-hort, Rik Reppe. If you’re not going to take a listen - for shame! (except you, Minnesota parents, California-now-Oregon parents, and Grandma – I’ll make a CD for you), just know that these numbers impress me the most:

# page views on the Minnesota Fringe Festival website: 1.1 million Average number of page views per visit: 12 Number of tickets sold: 44,630 Number of artists involved: 1,053 Number of volunteers: 377 Number of venues: 29 Number of sold-out performances: 67

Real World? What? - Where?

The 12th Annual Minnesota Fringe Festival is over. So sad – it’s like summer camp has come to an end and we have to say goodbye to all of our new best friends and go back to school. There are many dear people that I only see once a year now, and it’s the Fringe that brings us together every time - we always know that we can pick up where we left off with no regrets or resentment over lost time…kind of like chosen family, really. It was also a blast to hang out again with some of the wonderful people I met in Montreal when I performed in their 2004 Fringe – Foster, Cooper, and I bugged them enough to get them down to the states this year, and it was a joy to have them here with their excellent, excellent shows. At the closing party, Geoff (the Montreal Fringe Managing Director) hollered “Tag!, you’re it!” So, I guess it’s my turn to go back to Montreal in June. Oh, okaaaaay.

The Scrimshaw Show appearance went off without a hitch – and luckily there were enough other guests that night to keep me from being singled out for harassment. The brothers had their high-school creative writing teachers on as guests – snarky old men with tall, empty to-go cups of coffee (they reminded me of my favorite director and teacher from college, George Poletes, whom I was convinced was older than dust because he directed my father in shows at the University of St. Thomas circa 1962). Anyway, the evening’s guests were the aforementioned fellows along with former Look Ma, No Pants cast members Tim Uren and Dan Hetzel, in addition to myself. We all saddled up to bar stools on stage, were offered drinks, and then answered audience questions…one of which was about my “favorite farm animal” – um, what? – I gracefully handed that one off to the brilliantly funny Mr. Hetzel.

Favorite Experience at this Year’s Fringe: Picture this: Closing night party, roughly 400 people, Leah Cooper onstage at Fringeville (the Suburban World Theater) announcing all of the staff members and having them come up on stage for a little recognition. Amy Lewis, Andrew Cleveland and I were brought up to be recognized for our work as the Out-of-Town Artist Coordinators and we were met, like everyone else, with polite applause. We stood there amongst the others as more and more staff were introduced. Then the moment: Cooper brought up stats about the podcast and then went on to introduce The Voice of the Fringe with an elaborate and highly complimentary preface including the words “The. Sexiest. Voice.” – when she finally announced my name, the audience erupted in applause and hoots and cheers. It was so thrilling I could hardly contain my joy and shock (and embarrassment at the joy and shock). It’s funny how sometimes goofy grins give away the secret that humility has lost the battle of the moment.

So the podcast stats? It turns out that the first four podcasts were downloaded from the Fringe website more than 2,000 times - that’s not even counting the ones downloaded from iTunes! And there’s one more being released today! And I was all freaked out about no-one listening (that entry was one I never posted here because I thought it sounded too needy). Way cool, way, way cool. I think this calls for an…you guessed it! - HORTON HAPPY DANCE!!!

Favorite line of the Fringe (courtesy Allegra Lingo, House Manager extraordinaire): a woman, with a small child in tow, was attempting to gain entry into a sold-out performance of “Nibblers: A Musical With Sharks” – a kid’s show, mind you – and became so angered by the sold-out status that she burst out, “Goddamn the arts! They pull you in and then they f*** you over!”

I hope somebody works that into a show next year.