The "Italian Dialect" & Further Pilot Musings
It's been a bag-full-of-marbles kind of week -- I'm potentially [finally!] in the running for a pilot, and I'm thrilled beyond belief. The project I'd mentioned last week (of which I was fearful the gossipings-of would intercept good karma) is in the final stages of casting, and I'm in the boat. Er, well. Not terribly sure that's an insanely brilliant analogy, but I'm in the middle of a very large piece of cheese and fear my mind is halfway elsewhere.
Ha-ha! Where was I. The pilot. In the running. We shall see. No more talking. Next project! Another pilot. The freakin' Sci Fi channel (my inner nerd is doing a somewhat intoxicated looking cha-cha), and the writing is awesome. It's a tossup whether I'll get to read for the role or not, as it's a region-specific character. She's Venetian. And I fear I'm [painfully winter-pale] and have no Italian accent in my repertoire.
Enter -- the dialect coach!
I've worked with Amy Stoller before, on another last minute project over the summer for the Fringe. I had a decent British accent prior to working on the project I took in to her, so we weren't starting from egg-and-batter scratch. However, she was wonderful, polished me up to the point where I felt comfortable in my own... vocal cavity... and felt like I didn't sound like an actor trying to "put on" the accent just for the audition.
Learning an entirely new accent in an entirely small amount of time may be a different story.
Irregardless. I'd like to think I'm rather adept with dialects (or at least my old landlords thought so when I prank called 'em last year... inner child, inner child... martini, martini...), so hopefully I'll at least have something to offer if they do in fact inquire if I can give it a go Italian style.
I see Amy tomorrow at 5:30. Hoping to goodness my mastery of intonation is not reserved for states of devilish inebriation.
Perhaps I'll eat a pizza, too.
Goat cheese is bliss, Ashley Avis