The Quest for Vocal Perfection or Just Another Damn Thing to Worry About
I'm sitting at the stupid day job, trying desperately to master some facsimile of an Israeli accent for an audition tonight. Normally I am very good with dialects, but the Israeli is proving quite difficult, as French and Eastern European keep taking over at various unexpected intervals. Next thing you know I'll be slipping Vietnamese in there.
Perhaps I should have been doing this earlier than several hours before the audition, but I didn't notice that little easily lost line in their e-mail to me requesting that the audition be done in an Israeli or Palestinian dialect if possible. The if possible almost always means you'll most definitely be out of the running if you don't at least make an ass of yourself trying. And, umm hello? Israeli and Palestinian dialects are not exactly interchangeable...they're actually kind of different, so which do I learn? I've been listening to and repeating back recordings of both Israeli and Kuwaiti (the closest I could find) dialects, which is probably what's screwing me up a little.
Of course most Americans don't really have much of an ear for dialects, and probably wouldn't notice a little French or Eastern European creeping in there. I always try to be so meticulous and then I always get notes from directors that my dialects are too authentic and need to be toned down for comprehension purposes.
Really I just fucking hate auditions.
And its been a rather long period in a motivational toxic wasteland, so I'm a bit out of practice.
Which is exactly why I should go.
(and make an ass of myself)
Have I mentioned how shitty auditioning is?
[editor's note: the above must be read aloud with an Israeli dialect while standing on your head juggling fire sticks and attempting to prove how friendly and wonderful you are to work with; then you may have an inkling of what it feels like in an audition room, but only if there's someone else in the room ignoring you or eating their lunch]
Perhaps I should have been doing this earlier than several hours before the audition, but I didn't notice that little easily lost line in their e-mail to me requesting that the audition be done in an Israeli or Palestinian dialect if possible. The if possible almost always means you'll most definitely be out of the running if you don't at least make an ass of yourself trying. And, umm hello? Israeli and Palestinian dialects are not exactly interchangeable...they're actually kind of different, so which do I learn? I've been listening to and repeating back recordings of both Israeli and Kuwaiti (the closest I could find) dialects, which is probably what's screwing me up a little.
Of course most Americans don't really have much of an ear for dialects, and probably wouldn't notice a little French or Eastern European creeping in there. I always try to be so meticulous and then I always get notes from directors that my dialects are too authentic and need to be toned down for comprehension purposes.
Really I just fucking hate auditions.
And its been a rather long period in a motivational toxic wasteland, so I'm a bit out of practice.
Which is exactly why I should go.
(and make an ass of myself)
Have I mentioned how shitty auditioning is?
[editor's note: the above must be read aloud with an Israeli dialect while standing on your head juggling fire sticks and attempting to prove how friendly and wonderful you are to work with; then you may have an inkling of what it feels like in an audition room, but only if there's someone else in the room ignoring you or eating their lunch]
posted by Le Synge Bleu at 7:54 PM
2 Comments:
it actually went really well...until i did the absolute undoable...and made a face.
i went in for my first read and the energy in the room was great - i could tell they were pleased with what they saw and they actually asked me to stay and read another scene- which they didn't ask of anyone else. we also bantered and they asked about spelunking (which is exactly why i have it on my resume under skills...its a great conversation starter). things were going great.
i went in for the second read, which was of course the freakin supercharged climax...aaaahhh! the director gave me some direction (which basically amounted to vary the tactics more in this one monologue) and i did the end of the scene again, feeling like i did follow her direction, but perhaps not to the extent i could've, you know? so i finish, and the critic on my shoulder magically appears and begins tearing into me, as the director and writer thank me and say that was great work.
i had no idea i was even doing this...and i know better! my face was suddenly taken over by aliens and i made a self-judgemental face when they said it was great. i wouldn't have even known that i did it (i really wasn't even aware of doing it) but they said "no, really, great work. i mean it.", thus forcing me to realize the horror of the situation. i made a face. how freakin unprofessional is that? and I KNOW BETTER!! now i look like a high maintenance actor that totally needs to be coddled, which i'm not!
AAAAAHHHHH!!!
but i do feel good about their excitement and them asking me to read again. it was a little motivational boost that i needed.
It sounds like it went very well. It really takes guts I think to do stuff like that. I couldn't take the rejection. I freak out in speech class they way it is. Great job!
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