Dramatic Pause, page 6
“Uh, Mr. Tipton,” I begin, about to explain to him that the piece of paper he has in hand is in fact not my character sketch, but before I can, he has placed it behind Preston’s.
“Today you’ll learn my first rule of acting,” he says, waving the papers around wildly in front of him. At first I thought it would look like I was lazy, but now I realize I’m actually going to be humiliated in front of both of them. “The first rule of acting,” he says, then pauses and stares at each of us. He holds the papers up with both hands in front of his face and in one quick move rips them straight down the center.
“Break all the rules!”
He continues ripping the papers until they are in tiny little pieces. “I know I asked you to write up your character sketches for rehearsal today, but I only did that because I know you expected me to do that. Acting isn’t about what you expect. It’s about the unexpected.” He then throws the pieces up in the air like confetti on New Year’s Eve. They land all over the three of us. I look at Preston, and one piece of paper is even caught in the corner of his mouth.
“Now,” Mr. Tipton says. “Take out your scripts, and let’s really begin rehearsal.”
I’m so relieved that my lack of preparation wasn’t discovered that I can barely take in what Mr. Tipton has said. All I know is I won’t be making any careless errors in the future.
CHAPTER 13
I’ve decided to turn my coaching session with Brittany into a small party. She’s bringing her friend Phoebe, and I’ve convinced Chernique to come over as well. My mom is tutoring some kids after school and Dad is helping a friend set up his show at a gallery, so we’ll have the whole place to ourselves. I convinced Chernique to help me make her mom’s coconut puffs, since the first time you have someone over to your house you want to serve them more than microwave popcorn and jelly beans like some Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. The coconut puffs are a pretty simple recipe, since you start with premade pastry dough from the freezer, but the end result looks very complicated. The sweet, tropical flavor is perfect for an Indian Summer day in late September.
We take the last batch out of the oven after they are browned to perfection and put them on the wire rack to cool.
“So are you having a rehearsal here?” Chernique asks.
“Not exactly,” I tell her. “Brittany said she and her friend were going to give me some audition tips.”
“But you’ve been on dozens of auditions. You’ve been on more auditions than anyone I know.”
“The auditions I usually go on are totally different. I’m playing a role at those auditions. There’s a character to study and understand. Like when I auditioned for Lily in Tomorrow Never Comes, I had read the entire script and I understood who Lily was before I even walked into the audition.”
Chernique clutches her hand to her chest. “Oh, Isabel. You know how much I love that movie. We should watch it again, like, this weekend or something. Your final scene always makes me cry.”
“Oh, you don’t want to watch me in that. I was just a kid.”
“You were so good in that film. Of course I’d love to see it again.”
Brittany texts me that she has arrived and I head over to the window, where I see her and her friend, who is also blond and from a distance looks a lot like Brittany. I wave down to them and throw them the key to come up. I already texted Brittany instructions on how to use the key and the elevator.
The elevator doors open, and they both look around the space in awe. “Wow,” Brittany says. “This place is really funky.”
“Thanks,” I say. Our apartment is definitely funky, and somehow I knew Brittany might like it. It’s a large open loft space for the most part, and while it’s home to me and my family, I don’t think it’s even close to being a traditional type of home.
“This is my friend Phoebe,” Brittany says, and the blond girl standing next to her walks right over to me and hugs me, hard. Very hard.
Once she releases me from her grip, she looks me straight in the eye and says, “I’m a hugger.” Her openness makes me like her immediately, and before I can even introduce Chernique, Phoebe has given her a hug as well. Chernique is a hugger too, so I know it’s okay.
After the hug is over I say, “This is my best friend, Chernique, who is also a fabulous musician.”
“What instrument do you play?” Phoebe asks.
“She plays all of them,” I say.
“Oh, I do not. I mostly play the piano, drums, and guitar, but I also play the saxophone and started playing the clarinet a few months ago.”
“That’s impressive,” Brittany says.
“I play a mean cowbell,” Phoebe says. At first I think she’s making a joke, but then I realize she’s serious. It’s actually pretty easy to imagine Phoebe rocking out on the cowbell.
“Let’s head over to my room. We made some coconut puffs.”
The four of us spend a few minutes devouring the snacks and talking about the latest celebrity breakup. I spend so much time with adults at rehearsals during shows that it’s nice to hang out with girls my own age. Of course, I hang out with Chernique all the time, but this is different.
Brittany tells the story of how she and Phoebe were fierce rivals all summer and how they finally became friends after years of auditioning for the same parts.
“Anyway, let’s turn on the TV and get started,” Brittany says.
“Okay,” I say, and grab the remote from the floor and immediately go to the channel guide. “What do you guys want to watch?” I ask.
“Do you mind if I use the remote?” Brittany asks.
“Of course not,” I say.
Brittany starts flipping channels and passes by program after program until she gets to a station that is on a commercial break. “Here!” she shouts, and walks up to stand next to the TV. Before she reaches the TV, however, I hear the very familiar Pizza Fantastic jingle, and then suddenly Phoebe’s face appears on the screen. “Perfect,” Brittany says, then points the remote at the TV and hits the pause button. Suddenly Phoebe’s face freezes on the screen with her mouth half-open and twisted. “We will now have our first lesson.”
CHAPTER 14
Brittany rewinds the DVR to the start of the Pizza Fantastic commercial. It’s one I’ve seen before and have never quite understood. A family is in a rowboat, camping, and they somehow wind up ordering a pizza to their campsite.
“Let’s look more closely at this commercial.” Brittany looks around and spots an old Wiffle-ball bat leaning against the wall. She picks it up and says, “Do you mind?” I shake my head and she continues.
“First, let’s notice what Phoebe is wearing.”
Phoebe raises her hand, and Brittany calls on her. “It’s a green T-shirt.”
“Well done, Phoebe. So we have the first of some very important rules about commercial casting. Solids.”
“Oh,” I say, remembering the print that I wore to my first audition. “So what I wore to the audition where I met you—”
Brittany doesn’t let me finish my sentence. “Put it in your closet for school or going out on the weekends. You should never wear that to an audition again.”
I look at Chernique, who shrugs and says, “Who knew?” I shrug also and write down the word solids in my notebook.
Brittany and Phoebe spend the next hour or so going over every detail of a commercial audition. I write down as much as I can in my notebook. I cringe when I hear some of their advice, because I know I did the exact opposite at my audition. Never look away from the camera. Never wear a dress unless the casting director specifically asks for you to wear one. Always wear to the callback what you wore to the audition.
“Now let’s talk about your hair,” Brittany says.
“My hair?” I ask.
“Well, it’s absolutely gorgeous,” Brittany says, and both Phoebe and Chernique nod. I’ve always been confident about my hair. Even though it’s black like my dad’s, it has some lighter highlights that I guess come from my mom’s European side. It’s a little bit past my shoulders, and I usually wear it down and straight. I know Brittany is giving me a compliment, but somehow I feel there is a “but” coming.
“But,” Brittany begins. There it is. “You can’t wear it like that at an audition.”
I quickly turn to look at myself in the mirror over my dresser. I’ve barely done anything to it today. It’s just down and falling around my shoulders.
“At an audition the casting director wants to see your face and your eyes. Make sure you have your hair back when you go to an audition. Hair is important, but they want to cast your face, not your hair, unless it’s for a shampoo or a conditioner. But even then, they still want to see your face, so make sure you have it pulled back or in a ponytail at the very least.”
“But not in a French braid or a tight bun,” Phoebe adds.
“Phoebe is right. Sometimes they’ll ask you to put your hair down, and if it’s up too tightly, you can’t undo it quickly enough.”
I’m getting a little confused. “Why do I wear my hair up if they’re going to tell me to put it down?”
“Versatility. You have to be the ‘you’ they see you as, and you have to be able to show that very quickly.”
That part’s going to be hard.
“Oh,” Phoebe says excitedly. “Don’t forget to bring Vaseline to a callback.”
“Vaseline?” I ask. “Do the studio lights make your lips get really chapped or something?”
Phoebe giggles. “No, silly. You put a thin layer on your teeth.”
Chernique makes a face, and I do too. The idea of putting Vaseline in my mouth instead of on the outside of it is repulsive.
“I know it sounds disgusting, because it is,” Brittany says. “But it can help. Callbacks can go on and on and on if they’re matching up families or if the client and the director just don’t know what they want. It can take forever, and the whole time you might be standing in front of the camera. And your mouth can get really dry. . . .”
“And what’s the most important thing to do at an audition or callback?” Phoebe asks.
I want to say, “Look at the camera and wear a solid color,” but I don’t see how eating Vaseline can help with that, so I sort of have a blank look on my face.
Then Chernique, who has been paying close attention the whole time, says, “Smile!” Then she exposes her teeth in the biggest, goofiest grin she can conjure.
“Exactly,” Brittany says. “The Vaseline can really help your mouth slide over your teeth, and it makes smiling easier. Believe me, you have no idea how many muscles it takes to smile until you’ve been smiling for, like, an hour without stopping. The Vaseline just makes it a little bit easier, and any advantage can be the one that helps you book the spot.”
“Got it,” I say, and write Vaseline in my notebook.
“But smiling is not actually the most important thing. Let’s look at the Pizza Fantastic commercial again to see the most important thing to remember.”
We’ve watched the commercial about six times already, but each time we watch it I learn something new. Phoebe is great, and the other people playing her family are equally as good. Sure, the entire premise of the commercial is totally inane, but for some reason I’m thinking about texting my mom and seeing if she can bring home a pizza for dinner tonight.
The commercial ends and Brittany says, “The most important thing about auditioning for a commercial is that you need to be you.”
This makes me very concerned.
“Phoebe books so many things because she’s basically always herself. She doesn’t try to be someone else. She just does herself doing whatever the audition calls for—from pretending to be fishing for pizza to shopping for a new computer.”
Phoebe gets a little choked up hearing her friend talk about her this way. I like both of them, but they are pretty different. Brittany is direct and a little bossy. Phoebe is very sweet and a little unfocused. I guess a lot of friendships are based on opposites. Chernique is more free-spirited and spontaneous, while I’m more disciplined and a planner.
“The camera gets very close on you, and it can tell if anything is false. It has to be you.”
Now I’m actually more concerned than I was before. At my disaster audition I was trying to figure out how to play the character of a daughter having breakfast with her mom. I never considered for a second the fact that I was playing some version of myself.
“But acting,” I say softly, “is about taking on a role and becoming someone else. That’s what I love about it so much. I love imagining what someone else’s life is like from another time or another place. What did they wear? How did they talk? When you play a character onstage or in a movie, you can get totally lost in it. That’s the challenge of acting. Where is the challenge in being yourself?”
Brittany and Phoebe look at each other. Brittany puts down the bat she has been using as a pointer and sits down next to me. “Trust me,” she says, her tone a bit less demanding and authoritative. “Learning to be yourself is one of the hardest challenges you’ll ever face.” Something tells me that Brittany has learned this lesson the hard way.
“Oh, you know what spot I wish we could show her? Spa-la-la!” Phoebe says.
“The only way we’ll be able to see that one is if we hop a plane to Hong Kong, and there’s no way I am going back there,” Brittany says.
I look at Chernique and she looks at me. We’re both confused. “Did you have to shoot the commercial in Hong Kong?” Chernique asks.
Brittany explains that they shot the commercial in Queens, but reminds us that she lived in Hong Kong for a year and she missed New York every single second she was there.
“But you mean the commercial you shot here in the States only airs in Hong Kong?” I ask.
“Oh yeah,” Phoebe says. “It happens all the time. They’re for international brands that never appear in the US. I’ve done a bunch. The spa one was hard because I had to speak a few words of Chinese, and they didn’t want to dub in someone else’s voice later.”
“But that almost never happens,” Brittany adds. “Usually they use someone else’s voice over yours or there aren’t any lines.”
“I did a chewing-gum spot that only airs in Brazil, and I don’t even speak Spanish.”
“They speak Portuguese in Brazil, Phoebe,” Chernique says as kindly as possible.
“Well, there you go. I don’t even know what they speak in Brazil, but my commercial airs round the clock, so it just goes to show you.”
Then it suddenly hits me. “You mean, your gum commercial has never aired in this country?”
“Nope. I’ve never even seen it, but I know it gets a lot of play because my agent says the checks keep rolling in.”
“So you get paid every time it airs in Brazil and you don’t have to worry about it being seen by anyone you know?” I ask, unable to hide the excitement in my voice.
Brittany looks at me like I’m actually speaking Portuguese. “Personally, I try to avoid going out for the international brands. I mean, what’s the point if no one is going to see you?”
That is exactly my point. If I could book a spot that airs in another country, I would never have to worry about Patricia Banner or anyone in the entire English-speaking world seeing it. It doesn’t matter what the commercial is for. I decide right then and there that I’m going to have a quick chat with Honey about this as soon as possible.
CHAPTER 15
After school the next day, Honey calls my cell. Even though I’m anxious to speak to her, it takes me a few seconds to answer it, because I still have a rather painful memory of my last audition. I’m hoping she’s not calling to tell me that this whole thing isn’t going to work out. Now that Brittany and Phoebe have given me all these helpful pointers and I’ve learned that it’s possible to book a commercial that doesn’t even air in the United States, I’m pretty excited about finding a way to pay for school.
“Hello, doll,” she says, her scratchy voice now more familiar to me.
“Hi, Honey,” I say back as brightly as possible.
“I have an appointment for you Tuesday at three fifty p.m. at Betsy Barnes Casting. It’s for . . .” Phew. At least she’s not calling to let me go. I know I heard something about sending me on an audition. However, the background noise on her end is very distracting. I can hear the other agents shouting on their phones and to each other.
“Did you say camping?” I ask. I didn’t know they did commercials for leisure activities, but this world is so new to me.
“No! Hold on.” I hear her covering the mouthpiece of the phone and yelling something to the staff that quiets the background noise. “Sorry, doll. It’s like an insane asylum in here today. Not camping. It’s for the CamPen. The pen that’s also a camera.”
“Oh,” I say. That doesn’t sound like anything too degrading.
“Don’t worry about it. Half the auditions this month are for drugs that I have no idea what they do, let alone know how to pronounce them. They might as well be in a foreign language.”
As soon as she says the phrase “foreign language” I think I have an opening. “Um, speaking of foreign languages—I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”
“Sure, doll.”
“Do you do a lot of spots for international brands? Because I was wondering: If any of those auditions came across your desk that you thought I was right for, maybe you could send me out on them. I’d really like to try that.”
“I do international stuff all the time, but to tell you the truth, those spots are pretty competitive, and I usually send out my more experienced girls.” Dang. That means I’ll have to humiliate myself in this country before I’m given the opportunity to do so in the international market. That really doesn’t help my situation. “But,” Honey continues, “you have so much theater experience that if one comes up that you’re right for, I’ll see what I can do.”
