When I first moved to LA, I did requisite sign up for a catering company. I was 21, had just moved to the city, and hadn't figured out quite what I wanted to do to make rent in the meantime. It was actually kind of fun at first, you get to meet a lot of other people, and it's an easy way to make money on a flexible schedule. One of the first events I was asked to work was the Spirit Awards. I thought it was a cool opportunity to go to my first award show, even if I was only working it.
The highlight of my summer was the opportunity to travel to France for the Deauville American Film Festival. Previously, I blogged about Electrick Children screening at Berlin Film Festival and SXSW. I had always wanted to escape away to a film festival for a week. It felt like summer camp. Most of the actors, directors, and producers were all staying in the same hotel. Each day, there was a new film premiere. The day would begin with photo calls and press conferences. Afterwards, we would indulge in delicious French lunches that would go on for hours, catch a late afternoon movie, take a nap, rise for a dinner party, and then go to late night dance parties. It's pretty surreal to rap the Jay-Z/Kanye West lyrics, "Excuse my French but I'm in France" when you're actually in France for the first time. There's no better way to begin new friendships than a week in the countryside of France. These fellow peers are the ones I hope to know and continue to work with for years to come.
Continue reading "Electrick Children at Deauville American Film Festival" »
My inbox is constantly inundated with potential casting notifications. Then, I scroll through them and decide whether I would like to submit or not. Most actors have had that moment where they've read a breakdown and instantly knew they had a shot. Most of us know what we can play really well. It's usually what we already are personified on screen into a character.
This particular role caught my attention. The breakdowns were detailed into every nuance of exactly what they were looking for in the actress. The plot synopsis was so eloquently written that I knew whoever was behind it cared immensely about the project. I submitted my headshot and went on with my day. At the end of the week, I saw that I had not been called in. I thought of the thousands and thousands of submissions that went in for this very role and knew how competitive it was to get called into the room.
I moved out of the childhood home I grew up in and moved to New York. I didn't realize what a monumental moment it was at the time. I didn't exactly believe that I would really be able to pull off supporting myself. There was a lingering fear that I would have to give up and move back home. I was like one of those contestants on a reality show that keeps complaining, "I don't want to go back home yet."
When I reflect back on the last 5 years, I get incredibly nostalgic for those times in my life. I will never again see New York from the same perspective as when I first moved there. When I go back now, every block has a memory. I remember trekking up to Times Square for my very first audition and thinking, "This is it. I'm here." I had such a distinct plan and vision for how my career would unfold. I was so completely innocent and trusting of the people I encountered. When I imagined my life 5 years away, I didn't picture myself being where I am now.
I once had an acting teacher inform us that using music to prepare for a production was a sign of a novice actor. It had come up in discussion when we were working on sense memory. She pointed out that if you're a trained actor that you shouldn't have to use "tricks" to get yourself to an emotional state for a dramatic scene. However, I don't think it really matters what specifically helps you get to that place. Music is influential and invokes memories for me to use in the scene.
I have a tradition before every single audition. On the drive there, I always play this song:
I just read Jacqueline Chamber's blog post about her co-worker's comment to grow her bangs out. Personally, I think he's a little off the mark to provide his insensitive comments. I mean, gargoyle, really? But then again, comedians are rarely as funny as they think they are. Have you ever noticed how a comedian will be the first to put everyone else down but themselves? Maybe this isn't always true or perhaps I'm resentful that I'm always the first one to get picked on everytime I go to a stand up routine. Her post took me back to my own experience with people's whim comments about my own hair. At the end of the day, it's just hair. Yet, people seem to be extremely opinionated about what looks best and sharing that opinion. But when, you've just done a drastic hair change with no going back for the foreseeable future, it does tend to make you think twice.
I'm a natural blonde and spent three solid years in New York City auditioning for the following types; cheerleader, UES ice queen, surfer girl, WASPY wife, and all around classic blonde air-head ditz. After a while, I was completely uninspired when I got the sides for auditions. Not ungrateful. I'm always thankful to even be called into a room. It was more like, "Awesome! What's the part?" Then, some version of the same sides I had done dozens of times before. After a while, I was bored with the roles I was being typed into.
Today I came across this e-card. A laugh escaped my throat as soon as I read it. It's especially brilliant because I've thought this exact thought recently. I specifically like this one because I'm finally at the age where most people thought I would outgrow this whole wanting to be an actress thing. Perhaps they assume I would have come to my senses and settled on a more stable job position by now.
Last Thursday I got a call to check my availability for a pilot audition today, Tuesday. I was thankful to have the whole weekend to prepare. Pilots cast fairly quickly and getting four whole days to prepare is rare. I even got to read the whole script which is even more rare. In the past year, I've consciously worked towards stopping myself from getting attached to roles. I commit to the character for the process of audition preparation but I don't get my hopes up the way I used to.
That's why when the audition got rescheduled for a new time twice, I didn't think much of it. There are sometimes half a dozen roles being cast at any time on a show. I continued to work on the sides and booked an appointment with my coach. In short, I was extremely excited to read for the role. I felt prepared, confident about the choices I had made, and looking forward to giving it a shot.
There seems to be an anxiety of comparison in audition rooms. It's that moment when you're sitting there, headphones in, sides in hand, and your peripheral catches someone observing you. It's those elevator eyes that bring me back to middle school as I feel someone quietly looking over me, my outfit, whatever it is that leads them to watch. It's just like in a bar when you feel someone checking you out but the end prize is not witty banter over a Blue Moon. Instead, it brings me back to my 13-year old self that self-consciously feels the need to pull out a compact to double check that something isn't hanging off my face.
I first fell in love with independent film when I was six years old. I rarely got a chance to rent movies and we were visiting family friends who were happy to host movie night. It started with a battle at the video store. My Mom's vote was for some film called Stealing Beauty and my interests were more along the lines of Beauty and the Beast. She won out and I scowled all the way there.
I was determined not to like it. I was prepared to immaturely imitate the performances and mock the plot line. I tended to do that when I didn't get my way. However, as much as I didn't want to like it, I was mesmerized. It was shot differently than most films I had seen before (studio produced) but it still captured my attention. The camera was shakier, there were more close ups, the performances felt more intimate. Also, I'm convinced there is some unspoken rule that independent films must have an out of this world soundtrack. They always find the most unique song and gracefully incorporate it into the scene.
Continue reading "Electrick Children at Berlin Film Festival" »
With every audition, I do a quick read of the people in the room to decipher the energy. It varies depending on the time of day, how many people are on the sign in sheet after me, and whether the director or producers are participating. I can tell right away if they are in a rush to whisk actors in and out or if they have the time to really explore the material. Sometimes I'm asked to go straight into slating my name. Alternatively, there have been times where we've chatted for a solid ten minutes before getting into the sides.
When you're lucky enough to have people with time to chat it can be audition death if you do the mistake I've made before; rambling. It's a combination of nerves, trying to connect in a conversation, and still trying to focus on the character I'm about to play.
I just got back from a trip East to visit my Nana. Her dementia has worsened since the last time I saw her, she no longer recognizes me. She lives in a senior citizen living community with other people coping with memory loss. Her room is covered in photos of the highlights of her life; school dances, college graduation, wedding day, becoming a Mother at the same age I am now, and stacks of letters she has saved throughout the years.
It was surreal to visually observe the question that crosses most people's mind at some point, "At the end of my life will I be fulfilled with how I lived it? Will there be regrets for chances I didn't take?" Seeing my Nana at this point in her life evolved my perspective. I have a habit of looking forward to what happens next instead of appreciating my current circumstances.
Continue reading ""Be Yourself, Everyone Else is Already Taken"" »
When I was growing up, my family didn't have a television. I used to beg my parents for one of those TV/VCR combos that were perpetually on clearance at JCPenney. They defiantly resisted my pleading, reasoning that a TV-free home would encourage me to read more. I imagined how convenient it would be to watch television any time of the day. I constantly looked forward to the next time we would be reunited again.
Although we didn't have cable, I was always allowed to go the movie theatre on opening weekend. My Mom would pick me up from school, rush against the 5 o'clock traffic, and race to make it to the early matinee showtime. We would stop off at Walgreens to stock up on candy to avoid the concession stand's exorbitantly overpriced popcorn.
The first time I ever read an issue of Backstage was in the eleventh grade. I had just transferred to a performing arts high school after dropping out of the International Baccalaureate program. My new acting teacher had past issues piled high on the book shelf by her desk. I was the new girl and didn't know a single soul. I grabbed one of the issues as a diversion so I didn't look completely pathetic waiting for someone to talk to me.
It was the beginning of my junior year and I felt like I had outgrown my small southern town. I was discouraged that my aspirations to be an actress weren't taken seriously. The year before, I had gone to New York City for my Sweet 16. I had met an older woman in a Starbucks. She struck up a conversation with me and before long I had confided my dirty secret to her; I wanted to be an actress.
