I have heard there are actors who can pick and choose their jobs – those who have reached a point in their career when the work available to them is greater than the time available to do the work in. Perhaps they have even reached the mythical level at which they no longer have to audition. What bliss
However.
I, despite my training and exceptional skills; I, with a reasonable face for television; I, with intelligence and dedication and a drive to succeed – I have not reached this level. I am not even close. I’m more at the level of turning up on set and hoping they’ll let me sit quietly in the background. I am at the point of my career where any work that comes along is a blessing, for both the sanity and the bank account.
Still...
I retain a certain amount of pride in my abilities, the things I have accomplished and more that I know I am capable of. One should be proud of their achievements, but pride can sometimes get in the way.
Like this week.
I had an audition for a TV series filming quite soon in Melbourne. It’s based on an Australian series of book and has a variety of wonderful characters, a few of whom I would be, in my opinion, perfect for. Possibly with different coloured hair. Or eyes. Some of my friends have already gone in for various parts in the series, and I was eager to show my potential in a screentest.
And the part I was auditioning for? It was...functionary. The character’s name was a job title. In Star Trek he would’ve worn a red shirt and died before the opening credits. He gets to say a single line of fifteen words that quite feasibly could be cut if the episode was running a touch long.
Of course someone has to say those single lines that create a cohesive narrative and greater depth to the world of the main characters, and I’m not exactly in a position to turn down a chance at work. And yeah, there are worse ways to make money than spending a couple of hours on a TV set to maybe or maybe not be a part of the fiction.
But so much of me wanted to scream “I’M WORTH MUCH MORE THAN THIS!!”
The nasty voices in the back of my head shouted that I should be playing Hamlet, that I should be the next Australian action hero, that I should be remodelling the Melbourne independent theatre landscape with my revolutionary stories and theatrical daring.
The better angels of my subconscious took the more reasonable view – that those who cast this project will cast others; that there are many other roles in this series they might want me to play; that I have to pay my dues as so many others have before me.
It was these voices I focussed on as I travelled 45 minutes and presented myself for my one line*. They helped me to deliver fifteen words charismatically and smile politely as I was ushered out soon after, thanking everyone for their time.
Because Russell Crowe’s first credit was ORPHAN. Will Smith’s was HAWKER. Patrick Stewart played FIRE OFFICER. Harrison Ford performed as both IRATE MOTORIST and BELLHOP PAGER, neither of which he received a screen credit for. Just five years ago, the brilliantly hilarious Ken Jeong had a single line in Entourage as COFFEE SHOP MANAGER.
I never know where my next opportunity will come from, so I say yes to everything and present myself as professionally and likably as possible.
And my word that makes it so much more fun!
*I also threw in ‘Look out, Radioactive Man!’, just in case they were Simpsons fans. They weren’t
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