I had an on-camera audition yesterday, the first one in several months.
It was for a sitcom, and the material was sort of tough: it was essentially the same beat over and over again, and I had to come up with ways to make each beat different and entertaining (well, at least to myself.) It was surprisingly fun to prepare, especially when I found a beat that I figured most actors would use as a "throw away" line for an easy joke, that I made into a moment where I try to show the other guy exactly what he's missing, because I'm single and he's not. (When I did my brilliant beat that I was so proud of in the room, it was rewarded with that special type of laughter that's actually utter silence, so maybe I should have just gone for the easy joke.)
Overall, it was a good experience. The people there were all friendly and warm, and they made me feel like they were happy to see me, which is quite a rarity in Hollywood.
I don't think I'll get to go any further in the process, though, because I was at least six or seven years older than everyone else there, and I bungled one line, but at least I enjoyed myself, and since I'm not desperate for a job, I was able to relax and just do my thing; my goal was to have fun and at least enjoy creating and performing two pages of this character, and that's exactly what I did.
Everything you need to know about where I am right now follows:
When I told the guard what show I was there for, he said to me, "Do you know that you're supposed to park on the street?"
"I did not know that," I said.
"Yeah, they have you guys parking on the street," he said, "but I think I'll let you park over in that garage. Just drive past the reserved spots and take the first open one you find."
"Really?" I said, "It's not a big deal for me to park on the street."
"Don't worry about it," he said, as he opened the gate.
"Thank you," I said, and realized that I was unconsciously going into my pocket to tip him.
Damn you, Vegas. Just when I thought I was out . . .
