Well, it's done...

We've survived another year of auditions.

Actually though, this year wasn't half bad. Not really any major disasters. Good for us, not so good for reading about.

Oh, but let's see what I can scrounge up......

How about the kid who thought she was singing "Tomorrow" from Annie, but actually ended up kinda doing a jazz-scat version of it, with no rhyme or reason. At the end, we weren't sure if we were supposed to say "thank you" or whip out our berets and start snapping appreciation.

Or, how about the girl who had written down that she wanted to be a dancer in the show. I had a little choreography of two counts of eight that I taught any potential dancers. It started off with me stepping back on my right foot. When I demonstrated that slowly, and she stepped back on her left, I immediately made it a REALLY quick dance audition. Mirror image dancing is cool, but not the look I'm going for.

Perhaps I should tell you about our adventures with the character named "Dipstick". Do you know how difficult it is NOT to say "dipshit"?

Or maybe you'd like to hear about the girl who sang Oh Canada for us in a "pop star" voice. Sounded much like "Hooh Canada (lots of angst), our Home (more angst) and native la-aa-an-d" So, to try to rid her of that annoying nasal tone, I asked her to sing it like an opera star instead. Nope, still sounded like the opening of a hockey game. In a small franchise town. Where the original singer slated for the anthem got sick and they had to book someone else. And the only person available to fill in was the zamboni player's daughter.

But really, for an audition process that was relatively free of insanity this year, we had a whole lot o' crazy packed into one auditioner. Or rather, one auditioner's mother. Billy* came into the room to audition. No, wait, that's wrong. Billy's mother came marching into the room and sat down at the audition table while Billy went out front. Ok, perhaps she hadn't noticed that all of the other parents were waiting in the hall.

I decide to ignore it, and ask Billy what he's going to sing for us. Mom says "oh just wait, we have to get ready" and starts pulling glasses and a moustache out of the bag "aren't these ADORABLE?" Billy still hasn't told me what he wants to sing, but Mom has already scouted the place and realized we don't have a piano (not too many middle school kids come in with their accompanist). We head to another room in the school (mom talking the WHOLE way about how she chose him a great song by Irving Berlin, even though he wanted to sing something else) where mom plays and Billy sings. The song is very high. Billy sounds much like a girl. A very quiet girl with an overbearing mom, but no matter.

On the way back, mom chats non-stop about how she's a music therapist and organizes music sessions with in-patients. Or IS an in-patient, or something. I stopped listening early on. It's an audition technique that I usually use with the auditioners.

Mom does not stop talking, so I talk over her to ask Billy what character he's going to read for. Mom pipes in that they tried to get the CD, but the "school was closed when we got here." Aside from the fact that there is no CD to "get", and I had no idea what she was talking about, this makes perfect sense.

Mom finally sits down and shuts up. Billy reads. Billy is decent. Billy might have been distracted by the flash coming from the corner of the room as his mother is taking PICTURES. Oh, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. Seriously, I know you mention it in the theatre, but I didn't think that in the auditions I had to make a "no flash photography" announcement. Yikes.

I ask Billy to read again, but this time add an accent, and be a little bit louder so that if there were someone in the back of the room, they could hear him. Mom runs to the back of the room, because apparently Billy doesn't understand abstract concepts?

Billy is done. Billy is gone. Mom is still here. Where is Mom's purse? Next auditioner comes in. Mom says "oh, go on ahead, don't mind me"....as she rattles around overturning things looking for her purse. We wait in awkward silence, as we are not about to make the next poor girl pose for pictures. Ahh...almost ready.

And then...Mom picks up her coat the wrong way and dumps all its contents on the floor. Coins, crumbs, buttons, werther's, cards and small woodland creatures go everywhere. After the fact, the stage manager mentions to me that she thinks Mom did it on purpose so she could hear the next kid. I would have to agree now that I think about it.

Unfortunately, when you're a male and have a modicum of talent, it doesn't matter if your mom is a looney tune, you're going to get a decent part. I think we're going to make a "no parents at rehearsals" rule. Or at least a "no crazy parents at rehearsals" rule.

Billy was one of the last auditioners. We were ready to go, but stayed in the safety of the audition room for another 10 minutes to make sure Billy and Mom got in their car and drove away before we came out. I still looked over my shoulder as I got in my car.

Anyway, we headed to the pub (where all important decisions are made), and cast the show relatively easily. In past years there have been discussions, arguments, screaming, crying, mud wrestling cage matches and other methods used to decide on the final cast list. This year saw the cast list complete within an hour (which included eating, drinking, and making fun of the grumpy old people at the table next to us). I'm not sure if that's a good sign or a bad sign. Only time will tell..




*names have been changed to protect the children of the insane.