Parking on Adeleine Street in the free 2-hour parking zone, I feel grateful for the lack of meters. On the way, I notice several big video cameras installed over the streetlights along this wide avenue, as potential crime witnesses. Not a welcoming feeling. No cops, just cameras, in one of Berkeley's true crime neighborhoods. I've seen this one on Berkeley/Oakland shootings maps. Then, I note the big colorful Police Will Photograph Your Drivers' License signs. Warm and cozy, it's not...Cringe and shudder: as a pedestrian, it does not make me feel any safer, even in daylight.
I enter the cavernous building that houses the Black Repertory Theater, and sense some history...there are actors' photos on the walls, including one of Richard Pryor and of a young Oprah with perfect 1980's hair. There are round tables and high-backed chairs in what appears to be a bar area, and sounds of drumming come from the stage. I look for the space that may welcome me to this audition, and eventually make it to the side door entrance to the stage, where there's a round table set up, and a big young woman seated nearby. She waits a long time before deciding that, perhaps, I may be here for an audition. I introduce myself, and after that, all is cool. I fill out a form with contact info and my unavailable dates. A couple of characters come around, introducing themselves. One older gentleman in a raincoat, with a bit of swagger and sway, begins singing, in an old bluesy style, to his "kids." He wants to meet me. Suddenly, I start to feel I may look like somebody important. We share a few laughs.
After several minutes I'm brought into the audition room around the corner. A large space with a table and a few chairs, an upright piano, a long sofa covered in a black and tan African print, missing all its cushions, behind it a long professional clothes rack laden with bright, glittery women's costumes. Eying the red satin glam dress I wonder if it could possibly be my size. Wouldn't that be the perfect comeback after a month in a nun's habit?
The director is Tiffany Golden and she is welcoming and charming. Nice eyes behind her quirky glasses, a calm demeanor, dressed in muted hues. All week I've been trying to learn that Abbey Lincoln song, "Afro Blue," but it never comes up. Yet, it has by now fueled today's little surge of adrenaline - the very idea of singing off key or off tempo in front of anyone, particularly blues lovers casting a play about musicians!
Ms. Golden asks me to make myself comfortable, on the chair, then for permission to videotape, then, she requests the monologue. "Erin Brokovitch" rolls off my tongue, all the while I'm wishing I had brought something with a different vibe. Is she actually enjoying this? She asks me to try it again, now, but in the voice of a "wealthy Berkeley matron..." I do my rendition, subtly changing a word here and there, and realize I'm about to rewrite "Erin Brokovitch." Also, that I don't know any wealthy Berkeley matrons! Next, she asks me to do the same lines as though telling a story to my best friend. Again, the writer in me can't help transposing the POV of the scene with subtle word shifts here and there. Is this a good idea? Am I being lazy? Should I have stuck to the script and only deferred to character?, I wonder, mid monologue. No doubt I will do this differently next time. But, hey, it's still a lot of fun.
Now she has her assistant come in to read lines with me and I play the unnamed woman from the sides I've been studying - the woman who wants to learn to sing jazz - the rich, bored woman. I'm guided through all the mood shifts, and now I get precisely what Tiffany's reaching for. Whether or not I'm cast - that awaits another day: callbacks by end of the month.
When it's over, I think I did provide some entertainment to these two women, and I'm also relieved as hell not to have had to sing! Exit from inside video recording to outside, wide angle, video capture.
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