Agency

"These are the decisions you've been making all along as you measure your company's strength, energy, and expertise. You are putting together an orchestra and each instrument is unique in its character and the mood it evokes.... You look back and see that a 'casting' process has been going on all the time."

-- Elizabeth Swados, At Play: Teaching Teenagers Theater

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This afternoon, I will audition for a local talent agency for the first time. Their focus is northern Kentucky and Cincinnati, and they're a new group, according to my boss. She actually works side jobs for the agency, and she's the one who gave me the tip about this open call today. I checked the website and they seem legit; not only that, but their auditions page mentioned that they are looking forward to "expanding their ethnic roster." As a half-Filipino with a Scottish last name who almost always gets mistaken for a Mexican, I think I have a decent shot.

At the least, I'd rather audition for a small agency than a big one. I've heard horror stories of actors showing up for an agency-referred gig, only to find fifty other people who got the same tip, who are the same type, and who are from the same agency.

Not that I have any real experience with these agencies, or with this kind of audition. From what I understand, you are filmed and your headshot-resume is archived as soon as they get it, and many people don't get their first job call for several months. Makes sense to me. It takes a while, whatever you do, to get on the first-string team. You can't always walk on with a resume and walk off with a job. Waiting is just part of the game.

In that way, I suppose auditioning for a talent agency is a lot like putting money away in a CD. You do it now and forget about it, and in the future when you're able to cash in, it's a merry surprise. This career is one built on lining up your next gig, planning your next contract, and always, always looking ahead.

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Many of the young theatre people I've met graduated from their college programs with portfolios or binders filled with monologues and songs that work for them. They whip out polished material at every audition. I passed on the professional prep class at Hillsdale because by the time it came around (the class is offered every four semesters, or once every two years, because of how small the theatre faculty is) I was a senior and had already worked for three pseudo-professional companies, and I felt I had it down. I'm told that in the professional-prep class, you build your binder. Though I still feel prepared for doing this professionally, I do wish that I had spent some real time in college putting together my own binder.

As it is, I seem to find a new monologue for every audition. Last summer, at OTAs in Muskingum, OH, I just used a monologue from a successful Irene Ryans competition scene from ACTF in January; that one landed me my job at The Children's Theatre. Then, at ITAs in Chicago, I used a Duchess of Malfi monologue that is a bit obscure (and a bit out of my age range); that one worked in Illinois--I got three on-site callbacks and about a dozen offers or invites to audition again. But when I used the same one at the LCTs here in Cincinnati, it was a dud--I only got one solid offer and a handful of callback invites.

The other day when I went out for Stagecrafters, they didn't ask for a monologue. And today, I find myself rehearsing a new bit, one that is genuinely good but may go on the record a little sloppy. I just found it two days ago.

What to do?

The conservative part of me says rub the new one and stick to old hat. But there's a risk-taker part of me, too, one who rarely gets much ear time, who says to go for it. I've got a solid block of two hours before I hit up the agency; I can easily get through it thirty times, hell, even fifty; and if all goes sour once the red light blinks on, just improvise, paraphrase, and make good. At the very least, it gives you a story for the bar.

The risk-taker is the dishonest one. The conservative guy may be too honest. So I'll keep the old monologue as a fallback, but I'll rehearse the new one like I'm actually going to use it.

I believe strongly that above all (and this may be a trifle naive), what producers want to see at an audition is that you're a person they'd like to work with, that you have talent, and that you won't embarrass yourself or them in the event that they hire you. So that's it--cooperate, deliver, and don't let your pants down.

And plus, how many other half-Filipinos will show up today?