Well lookie what we have
here. This is supposed to be part two of my "work" blog, but instead
this is the instalment you would have got after that, arriving at your
eyeballs much sooner than planned and with a totally different ending, thanks
to the events of last night.
Everyone associates this
time of year with weather and colour, bonfires and pumpkins. For me, for the
last decade or so, it's meant double sets of auditions: Both local theatre
groups that I am affiliated with hold theirs within days of each other usually
- one for a February pantomime, one for a late spring musical. It's a trying time and no mistake.
The spring musical
audition - Sister Act - happened first and right slap bang in the middle
of Calamity Jane, the musical I was performing with the other group. I
had been asked repeatedly if I was going to try for the lead, and eventually
convinced myself that yes, I would. It was a hard convince. What with my
finances and fitness, I really wasn't sure. But every day the mirror reminds me
that younger is something I am not getting, and that I really have to seize
these chances while I have them. It turned out that the decision was the easy
part. Time and mental health conspired against me. I tore myself away from set
building and prop making to attend the Sunday evening audition, the night
before our first dress rehearsal. Unsurprisingly I was a mess of a girl.
Randomly blubbing, incessantly trembling and clinging on to fragments of songs
that I'd only got hold of the previous day. Of course you put all this behind
you when you're performing. Well I started my performance long before being up
in front of the judges, believe me.
I had been unable to make
either of the readthrough/singthrough sessions, though I rarely attend these
anyway, as a glimpse of the competition can scare me off. This is less likely
in an audition scenario as by then you will have made up your mind to go for
it, and only Elaine Paige or similar would have you legging it back to the car.
I usually dress with the character in mind as it helps me to feel them. This character
wasn't the least bit subtle, so neither was I. I looked way OTT for 6pm , but I pretended not to care. The worst that can
happen is that you look like a total nobhead when you don't get the role. So be
it. I can do nobhead, it would be OK. I just have to put myself through
this.
 |
Nobhead, 2015 |
I couldn't face being in
the room where my fellow victims lingered (especially not while wearing sequins
and stupid high boots). Instead I hovered outside, waiting to be called. There
were three of us up for Deloris - two long-serving members, and a new girl,
which is never a good thing. You don't know what a stranger is capable of. I
had been that stranger a couple of times, many years ago. Dizzy from the
combination of Rescue Remedy and Vocalzone on an empty stomach and a full
bladder, I waited some more. That's all you can do now. Just wait until you are
called and do your best. At last, I was called. And what I delivered on this
occasion was almost the complete opposite of my best.
I sucked BALLS. I
said as much (though with less vulgarity) to the five panellists, who already
knew me and thus looked a bit puzzled as to the monstrosity I had shat out for
them. What had happened to me? Tired? Nervous? Definitely under-prepared. But
then I have prepared myself inside out in the past and not got roles and vice
versa. It was just not possible at this time to give them my all, as more than
half of it was in the Black Hills of Dakota. Why had I auditioned? Why didn't I
ask if I could come later as this date wasn't convenient. If I had been on
holiday or cold-ridden, this is what I would have done. Those who were both of
those things had been given a second chance to do what they would otherwise
have missed.
Unluckily for me, the
director was a one-shot guy. A principal he holds most strongly, and one that I
disagree with. This isn't X-Factor where that would be the case: this is
amateur stuff! We are all supposed to be mates, at the very least treating each
other with understanding. And yet, he went all Simon Cowell on my ass.
On seeing that there were
to be further auditions as no decisions had been made, I let the
anti-depressants do the talking and wrote an email begging for another shot. Not
alone, of course - I wanted no advantage over my competitors, just a chance to
show the panel what they would have seen that Sunday, had I not been whatever
it was I had been. It turned out that the other two Delori (plural of Deloris,
obvs) had been called back for the Tuesday... but not me. Why not me? The cold-ridden
and holidaying had also got their chances... why not me? I could only resort to
pushiness, and declared to the whole panel this time that I was going to
be there that night anyway and would they please let me try again. Amazingly, I
was granted permission, but by now I had no expectation that it would change
anything. I just wanted to redeem myself. I knew that prejudice had its bottom
wedged comfortably on the casting couch, and there wasn't a hope it would budge
up to allow fairness to perch.
Given that, I had been
rooting for the other group member to get the role. She and I have a history of
going up for the same prizes only to have them snatched from in front of our
nostrils. It is a hard deal. Having worked yourself up into a frenzy of self-belief
- you want this, you'd be PERFECT for it - you endure hours of preparation and
hope, and trying not to spew on your script, which leads to a few short minutes,
where whatever you say or do is being judged. When you don't achieve your
objective, it hurts bad. It's a long way to fall. I had shared her pain
many times, so it would have relieved mine a great deal on this occasion to see
her victorious. Sadly this was not to be either, and the new lady became
Deloris. I was genuinely pleased for her too, but not as pleased as I might
have been had the outcome been different. My friend got understudy (a thankless
task) plus a consolation role; I was offered the other consolation role, so
undefined as it could have been one or the other. To be honest, I can't
remember much about it as I was concentrating hard on sustaining my happy face
until out of eyeshot. You think I can't
act huh....?
In
the darkness of the rest of the week, I considered the offer carefully, putting
aside the inevitable sensations of loss and rejection to be rational: I would
have a part in a show that would be a lot of fun. Not the part I had made
myself desire, but that wouldn't matter. I could still be in it, with all that wonderful
brass and string music, being one of a team creating something special.
Unfortunately, at two rehearsals per week, getting more intense as the show
loomed, it didn't seem like a good move. I knew I was going to be involved with
the other group, one way or another, which would have meant upwards of three evenings
out, escalating to four plus Sunday afternoons. I often work into the evening,
and if I know I'm going out, I have to take extra rest in the afternoon to make
space for that. For a lead role, I wouldn't have cared. I would have slept instead
of working, and made my money in some unsavoury manner to tide me over for such
a wonderful opportunity. I couldn't justify that for backing singer/no.19 nun.
Sadly, I declined. Most sadly because this
is not the attitude
that amateur theatre thrives on, and it's certainly not an attitude I want to
have. However I considered that it was
as much group-spirited as casting a professional singer who has never performed
with the group before (and may not again, as has happened in the past...) over
long-serving and loyal members who could have made an equal job of the deal.
The difference is that I hate myself for it, and wish that my life situation
wasn't forcing me to take this stance.
NB I may not be right about the "professional" bit, but I know
she is established with a big swing band. I've seen them perform. They're ace.
Sister Act is going to be great.
If
that had been the end of it, I would have been happy to toddle back to
anonymity but no. Calamity Jane had just blown in to the windy city of Finished
Pantomime
is where I began with this lark, nearly twenty-two years ago. Cue a pause from
current events to launch into a retrospective of my musical theatre times, with
pictures where I can scrape the dust from them:
The
first panto I ever did was at school. Up until then I had auditioned twice for
school shows and not got roles, not even made the chorus. I was a tall, chunky,
unpopular girl with specs you could serve meals on. It gave me the message that
I wasn't good enough to compete with the shiny people. So I found myself
ASM-ing Dick Whittington. The backstage crew were encouraged to join in
with the chorus singing from the wings, and I happily belted Ring Out the
Bells with everyone else for the finale. It didn't go unnoticed. When Babes
in the Wood came up the following year, I considered being a chorus member,
and told the director so.
"Oh no Liz, I'd like you to go for
Principal Boy", she said.
Me? Really?
So my first role in a pantomime
was Robin Hood, and I loved it.
At Uni I went along to the
first meeting of BUMS - (Bath University Musical Society) and was instantly
frightened off by all the pretty, talented and exuberant folk. I recall in
particular a girl called Becky, who rounded off the evening doing I Wanna
Dance With Somebody at the karaoke, and got spontaneous applause for the
high notes she accurately pitched. I never attended the second meeting, and
went through university musical-free.
Similarly devoid was my
riotous year PGCE-ing at York Manor School
 |
Let's call the WHOLE thing off... 1998 |
I did a fairly unrehearsed Let's Call the Whole Thing Off,
and joined the kids in the choir. In my first year of proper teaching in Worcs,
I wrote and directed the spring school show. It was supposed to have been HMS
Pinafore, and I can't remember why that was pulled. I remembered the
previous year's performance, and suggested we did similar, as it was 1999. Thus
our Century Revue was born, in which I got another solo (With Her
Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm) and led a couple of numbers, as I was the
person in charge. That was lots of fun.
 |
Having lots of fun at the Century Revue, 1999 |
The following year, addled
with depression and loneliness (hmm, sound familiar?) I noticed a sign outside
the town hall: Little Shop of Horrors - Open Auditions. Something (probably the drugs) made me go,
and I won the role of Ronnette, one of the three singing street-urchins. Now that
was one of my favourites.
 |
Horrors 2000, just before curtain up. Come-a come-a come-a... |
Harmony singing, dancing, glam costumes... plus a
whole bunch of new friends. I'd go out for a drink after rehearsals, and
suddenly the town where my bedsit sat wasn't such a lonely place after all. I
even had boozing companions at weekends! (And did I booze... oh yes.) Next was Jack
and the Beanstalk, and I ended up disappointed to be cast as The Crystal
Fairy. I didn't consider myself in the least bit fairy-like! I changed the role
and the dialogue, and became the Great Northern Fairy, with L-O-V-E and L-O-V-E
tattooed on both sets of knuckles.
 |
2001 Crystal Fairy, my sparkly arse! |
I'm not sure the director was impressed, but
I got away with it. Unfortunately the group was not enough to sustain my
spirits, and that was the last I did with them. Depression led to a breakdown.
I moved to Bristol
My Jabba years ensued. I
wallowed in an antidepressant haze, eating whatever was edible and eschewing
work (see 9 to 5). In 2002 I noticed a banner advertising My Fair
Lady by a local group. I called their membership secretary and he said to
come along to the readthrough for their panto, Sleeping Beauty. I recalled
how helpful LSOH had been in my recuperation, so I went for it. Thus began my
relationship with TMTG and serious commitment to musical theatre.
 |
Annie Get Your Gun, 2003. More like Lizzie Get Your Butt Down To Slimming World. |
In 2005 I got together
with X, who was at the time MDing both TMTG and DODS, (that same local bunch
who are Sister Act-ing in April). Their 2006 show was Little Shop of
Horrors - really! My previous experience gave me the guts to try out as Ronnette,
even repeating the dance routine for the audition. I got the part, my first
role with the group. OK, I was a stranger it is true, but the circumstances
were different. It wasn't the lead role for a start, and I was definitely
coming back for more.
 |
Horrors 2006, complete with Audrey One |
Having a partner on the
audition panel is not the bonus you might think. Where he might have
spoken up for me before our connection, his new partiality was tricky to
negotiate. Not only that, but he would come home knowing the panel's decisions,
but not being permitted to tell me! The cause of many a tense hour or so,
especially in our early days, where it mattered a great deal to me that I could
share a show with him. Of course now he's not my partner, it's even stranger!
Who auditions in front of their ex? Me.
As we were pretty
inseparable for many years, I felt compelled to try out for anything he was
involved in. I didn't want to be left home alone while he was rehearsing. One
thing that stood in the way of this was my confidence. He was always very
encouraging. In his opinion I was just as good as anyone else, and stood as
much chance of a part. This was a game changer for me. Suddenly I was able to
go for things I would never have considered. His belief in me gave me strength.
I've not had many leads, but I've had the guts to try. Whenever I haven't
achieved the role I wanted, I've always thought that the person who got it was
much better at it than I would have been. But then I would, wouldn't I? If
there is any bitterness, it stems from disappointment. Extreme disappointment,
which you can't begin to understand unless you have ever failed at an audition.
Homer Simpson said:
"Trying is the first step toward
failure."
Without external support
and with two fistfuls of recent rejections, I can see the donut-filled
d'oh-brain's point. There isn't much more "try" in me. And yet part
two of my autumnal audition agony was still to come...
I made my mind up not
to go to the Aladdin readthrough. No. Nope. Didn't fancy it. Didn't want
to see the competition. Had had a bad week, didn't want to leave the house. It
was enough to know that I would be in this show, no matter what. Pantomime is a
genre with which I'm more at home than Red Riding Hood's granny. I've been
involved in fifteen to date: backstage/directing for three, chorus for one, and
some sort of role for the remaining eleven, three of which were Principal Boy.
There was no need for me to worry.
I spent the afternoon
making truffles in preparation for one of the four Christmas markets I'll be
selling at. It was a soothing activity, made more so by the fact that I knew I
was staying in. I'd even had beans for lunch, which I only do with confidence
when I know there is no possibility of company for the rest of the day. I
wonder how they're getting on, I thought and glanced at the clock. It was only 6.30pm . An idea flashed through my mind.... I could still
go. (But I'd had beans!! Screw it. They're my friends, they'll understand.)
It wasn't too late to join them.
Reader, I did just that!
Again, I don't know what possessed me. A combination of the SA audition fail
fuelled by drugs, plus the fear of yet another night Home Alone. Yes, I had to
summon up a lot of strength to make the twelve-mile drive in the pitch black to
plunge into the unknown, but I did it and I was proud. I had a giggle reading
parts in different voices, and unwound myself enough to sign up for auditions.
I suppose I ought to thank
the Sister Act director for his harsh lesson. There was no way I was going
to be under-prepared this time. Some of the things he said to me during the
whole SA debacle had been really upsetting. I had a determination to prove him
wrong: depression, shmepression! This time I had possession of my all, however
temporarily, and I was going to give it or be damned. Also, these tryouts take
an "open" form - everyone who is going for a role is watching
everyone else. An interesting concept, one that I'd balked at when first it was
introduced. The advantage is that you are seeing what the panel see, so you can
make your own judgements. It means there's more of a team feel to it, and you
have an audience to respond to you - highly important in this genre. It also
means that your peers can see you. Yes, I balked at it originally. These days I
just loathe it, and can't wait until it's over.
The script is one we'd
done ten years ago, when I had played Princess Mandarin's handmaiden So-Shy.
Maybe this time I'll not be So-Shy. Eh? Eh? Please yourselves.
 |
So-Shy, or not So-Shy? 2006 |
On Friday I printed out
the audition pieces and read them into my dictaphone. On Saturday I played them
over and over while steaming clothes at the charity shop. I went over them
before bedtime on Saturday night, on Sunday night, and just before dressing up
(pre-nobhead style) on Monday evening. The words were sticking like inferior
brand wallpaper: Some bits attached, some didn't, some stuck and then slid
slowly away while I was looking at other bits. Some bits didn't even pretend to
stick, despite having been held down and threatened with a nail. Bloody tablets
mean I have to work a lot harder to keep stuff in.
I was the first girl to
try for Aladdin, and the first auditionee of the evening to speak. Just in case
I wasn't feeling more pressure than my elastic support pants, selected carefully
for the evening's strutting. After each section I returned to my seat and
huddled up miserably, trying to keep calm and remain in the room. The
adrenaline built gradually, and luckily my confidence with it, though not quite
as logarithmically. It was hell. I was so distracted that I went for the thigh slap, as all good Principal Boys should, and missed my flippin' leg! Honestly. Missable is not something my thighs are renowned for being. Dammit. And dammit.
I was one of the few to have memorised my
lines, and was stunned to find that I actually remembered them throughout the Aladdin
bits. When I got to the Genie, it was over an hour later. I'd seen seven
Abanazars by that point, and fatigue was unpeeling my wallpaper like a good'un.
I had a lovely little improvised rhyme about being a "Genie with a
J", but messed it up. All the shakes had rendered me a gibbering wreck. Just
keep swimming. Just keep swimming.
At least this hell came to
a halt and the prospective cast repaired to a nearby hostelry to begin the wait
for results. A long-drawn, agonised wait usually, which can't possibly end in
satisfaction for all. I was ready to flee, but considered that it might be
better to stay around people than not. In the last fortnight I have had little
human contact, which isn't good for anyone. What harm could a little more
company do? In the friendly atmosphere I relaxed, striking up conversation and
even laughing a little. Until the panel returned, record-breakingly soon.
I felt the tension grip
me, and I moved from my seat onto the floor, where I could face my judges and
would look less nobheady in my leather boots and short dress get-up. It gave me
the added advantage of my friend's leg, which I clung to for comfort, not even
bothering to ask for permission. The director went through the usual
post-audition-director-speech, thanking everyone for coming, saying that it was a high standard,
a-n-y-o-n-e c-o-u-l-d h-a-v-e
p--l--a--y--e--d a---n---y
o------f
t------h------e
r------o------l-------e------s......
(Everything went slow-mo,
my heart pounded in my ears. Clutching the trouserleg before me, I focussed on
the ladder in my tights and braced myself for
Nobhead-dom.)
"Aladdin is...."
Lizzielizzielizzielizzielizziepleasesaylizziepleasesaylizzie
PLEASE SAY
".... Lizzie"
Oh holy crap. I did it. Principal
Boy at forty! And an eponymous one at that!!
(I understand that my
liberal use of this word is confusing some people - it means that the name of
the show is derived from the lead character's name: Calamity Jane, Sweet
Charity, Billy Elliot, Annie, Evita - all eponymous roles. Panto-wise, you have
Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Puss in Boots, and Aladdin. Oh, and
patronising.... that means talking down to people.)
I must have got back home
because I've been sitting here for the last few hours spewing this lot out in
lieu of work. When you've gotta blog, you've gotta blog! What has happened to
me between that moment in the pub and now is blurry, to say the least. I cannot
concentrate. I tried so hard to do some compiling, but I kept being interrupted
by well-wishers offering me congratulation. Even when there's silence, my bonce
contents are spinning like a magic carpet in a Chinese laundry.
I wish I could lift the
veil on the pleasure I might be affording from all this. Once again, the
tablets make it like everything is wrapped in cellophane. I want to weep with
relief - the auditions are over, and I have something to hold me up and keep me
going across the bleakness of winter. When I had cancer, I was fighting to
live. There were a couple of moments where I truly thought it was up for me,
and I wasn't ready. I gave Mr H everything I had and I won. It took a lot more
out of me than I had expected. Which makes it ironic that now I sometimes feel
that to put my head down and sleep long; to drift away in oblivion, waking up
when - and only when - this hell is over, would be good. These are black
thoughts and they come, in spite of my total abhorrence of them. After the
struggle for life, why would I want to relinquish it? It makes no sense.
So that audition panel,
they have no idea what a lifebelt they have thrown me. I've put it on and I'm
bobbing up and down in the rapids, still being tossed about, but now supported.
I don't think I've been more grateful for a part in my entire performing
career.
The world has a glow to it
today. Even though it's grey outside, there is something that has been missing
for a long, long time. A touch of excitement? More like hope. It's a tiny, tiny
flickering flame. I feel like being kind to people and getting on with things
that aren't sleeping or seeing how many Twirl Bites I can cram into my mouth
before needing to clean my teeth again. People believe in me today - it's
a bona fide fact. All that trying and failing and recovering, and trying and
failing.... suddenly I've tried and succeeded and it makes a refreshing change.
In your yellow face, Homer!
So I shall take the role I
have so wonderfully been bestowed, and I will embrace it with everything I have.
Tiny flame, keep the darkness at bay please, just for now. Keep flickering and
don't go out, and who knows... maybe you'll build up into the blaze that I used
to be, and that I could be again.
Will Lizzie be able to find her arse with both hands? Will you get your tickets to see Aladdin at the Armstrong Hall in Thornbury, Feb 10th to 13th 2016 www.TMTG.org.uk? Will you ever get to read the second part of the "work" blog? Answers to none of the above and less when the curtain goes up next time...
