It all seems so long ago, already: that Sunday-afternoon Cabaret Crème rehearsal in Berkeley, then jumping into the Miata, having heard those bad-weather reports, and toughing it out across I-580 through the Livermore Valley on a day with 50-mph winds and frequent short showers, to make it in time for the next day's high-stakes financial firm audition! As my friends know, it was one of the most challenging drives of my life. When the sudden gust dislodged the left lock on the convertible roof, I almost lost it. BP running high, I had to stop and park, then dislodge the right lock and hold onto the roof for dear life while readjusting the entire rooftop. I did it, and then, adrenaline surged, and I was shaking like a leaf. I did deep-breathing exercises while the wind whistled all around me, then I got a new start, driving across the mountain pass, through three rainbows. The wind got worse for awhile, and the car was scratched and pummeled by rolls of tumbleweed – Whish! Bang! Boing! No turning back, Dorothy, once you’re on the yellow brick road… "But, the cows aren't flying yet!" That was my mantra for an hour, as I prayed to all the gods to help me through this passage.
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| Flying cow image - artist unknown: found at http://tonova.typepad.com/thesuddencurve/2006/03/tornados_and_fl.html |
I made it to my hotel at 10:30 PM, faster than imagined, including two short gas and pit stops. Nice little discounted room at the modern Booked.com place in Sherman Oaks, the last one available at this hotel. The desk clerk asked me what time I’d like to check out, and I said, “How about 3 PM?” She said that would work fine. I was able to buy a chicken sandwich and salad, a mini bottle of champagne, and, then, I should have gone right to sleep, right? Impossible.
Spent the next morning in recovery, sipping hotel-room coffee and tea, and took myself for a walk down the street and a lovely outdoor lunch at a hip restaurant, where everyone was in the business, you know?
At 2 o'clock, I got back to the hotel, ready to dress for the audition, pack, and check out. Only problem was, my key card would not let me back in, and this required three trips down to the lobby, getting the card reconfigured, last moment-by-moments being whisked away from me, as the clock approached my 3:50 audition time. Thanks to a great housekeeper I had met earlier, I was let back in. Never underestimate the amount of time it takes to prep during that last hour before an audition. Absolutely anything can happen! Do your sleepover close to the audition site if you can.
I arrived ten minutes early, and was paired up with Val, a great actor, and we were able to run our lines as the ideal, retirement-planning Latino couple. I'm of Swedish and Jamaican background, he's Italian, but, who cares? We were given detailed instructions about how not to be. After all, this was a callback, and our seasoned casting director may also have been running out of casting time. "Don't look at the scripts!" That was the main thing. Val knew all his lines, but, I didn't. I was actually just fighting to be the character! Having him next to me provided a boost, though. We went in, did our thing in rehearsal, and then the casting director yanked away our scripts! He had us do it all over again as improv. I'm good at improv.
As we left, the casting director shook my hand forcefully, and said, "Great adjustment on that script." That's when it sunk in: talent respect exposed, but I would not get this role. He had Val go back in and try the part with another actress. Boom. Had it been worth the trip? Time will tell.
Drove back to the Bay Area right afterwards, and got home at exactly 10:30 PM Monday. It took most of the week to recover, and no one called, so, I was right. I am always thinking that if I lived in L.A. and did these auditions daily, it would all be so different and I might have some success. But, one never knows. As I drive through L.A. I am so appalled at the traffic, the bad drivers, and, when I see the vast amount of available rental housing, I wonder, just how bad is the economy down there, anyway? Were I twenty, it might be a lark, but, at my age?
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| Lisa Carlson sings with Cabaret Crème in Santa Rosa, February 20, 2015. Photo by Naomi Puro. |
Which brings me back to Cabaret Crème. We are all people of a certain age! I am the youngest in this crowd, and the only one who didn't know she could sing until a few months ago, when I was kind of dared into it. Now, I can sing, and still have lots to learn and must work on my vocal range. Stay tuned for more...
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