Faithful readers will recollect that Suzanna and Abigail have been planning for a couple weeks to audition for Seussical: The Musical, DSU's upcoming theatre production for which area school children were invited to audition if in grade four or higher (alas, Hillary is in second grade and had to sit this one out). We own the cast recording of the musical, and the girls have every word and note on it memorized and were interested in auditioning, so Susan and I gave them our permission.
Almost immediately I went into Mama Rose mode: You're gonna need an audition song! You're gonna need a theatre résumé! You're gonna need a headshot! You're gonna need an agent! We're on our way to Broadway! Nah, I wasn't too tyrannical. Suzanna, Abigail, and I sat down with our piano book collections of songs from musicals, played/sang through most of them, kept a list of the songs that each girl liked, and selected their favorites: for Abigail, "I Want to Go Home" from Big: The Musical; and for Suzanna, "I Enjoy Being a Girl" from Flower Drum Song. The girls memorized their songs and added actions to emphasize their characters' emotions as expressed through the words. Each time they would practice, either Susan or I would give them feedback as a director might, giving them suggestions for movement and asking them to think about the meanings behind the words and the thoughts of the songs' characters when they're saying (singing) those words.
With the audition numbers in good shape, it was time to create theatre résumés for the girls listing each girl's past theatrical and commercial (yes, "commercial"--don'tcha remember?) performances, roles, and venues as well as her theatre training and related skills (both artistic and athletic). Then for good measure we went through our September and October calendars and noted potential conflicts with a theatre rehearsal schedule (e.g., weddings and concerts that we're already obligated to attend) and typed those up so that the director would have them up front. Then I created headshots of the girls by finding good recent photos of each of them, using the computer to zoom and crop and shape them, and adding them to the résumés.
There were three possible audition times this week, but the only one that didn't conflict with the girls' other extracurricular activities was Wednesday right after school. I picked them up and brought them to the auditorium on campus where auditions were held. Filling in the audition forms was a snap since we had already taken the time to prepare the résumés and conflict sheets. (And, not surprisingly, Suzanna and Abigail were the only children there with theatre résumés. And headshots. And I'm not so sure that any of the university students auditioning had either of those things, either.) The girls confidently took seats amongst the others auditioning: a motley crew of theatre majors, theatre-curious university students, high school and junior high students, and other elementary students. I sat several rows back with Hillary and tried hard not to pop all my buttons as I watched Suzanna and Abigail show their stuff.
The first part of auditions consisted of learning and performing a brief dance routine. The show's choreographer brought everyone on stage and taught them a few dance steps, including the grapevine, that ubiquitous staple of musical theatre. Then she joined the director in the audience, and a senior university student with lots of dance experience (and, by the way, a student of mine) took over, teaching the group the steps to a short routine set to a portion of a song from Big River. Soon she left the stage, and the dancers were left to perform for the director's and choreographer's inspection. With all their dance experience, Suzanna and Abigail did just fine. They even moved energetically, substituting pizazz for the clumsy, stumbling, stare-at-everybody-else's-feet nervousness that most others exhibited. It was especially funny to watch the small-group displays in which three or four people at a time danced the routine, the university-aged auditioners watching our daughters' feet the entire time ("I'll just do what she's doing").
The second part of auditions consisted of singing the numbers that auditioners had prepared to display their vocal talent. In order to move things along, the director forewarned everybody that he would be cutting people off after about 16 or so measures. In some cases that was quite merciful; the director's "Okay, thank you" ended what was misery for the singer and those of us in the audience alike. Some auditioner's had made poor song choices (how many Disney cartoon songs did we hear?), but others had chosen no songs whatsoever and thus arrived at auditions needing to borrow music from someone else or to chit-chat with the pianist to see what music he might have brought along that they could use. One girl brought a CD by a country music artist, and she had the director play it while she sang along, the artist's voice completely covering her own whispy little voice (in fact, she appeared merely to be lip-synching). Unbelievable.
Then there were our daughters. The director didn't call off people's names to sing; instead, he let people volunteer, and Abigail was maybe the second or third person to leap on stage. She handed the pianist her music, affirmed that he was right with the tempo that he suggested, took her position downstage center, and performed (not simply "sang") her number. As he did with everyone else, the director cut her off about a third of the way into the song with his thanks, and Abigail collected her music, took her seat, and turned her attention to the next singer. Completely composed and entirely professional. Suzanna did exactly the same thing. They both made auditioning for a musical seem like old hat, and they showed not the slightest sign of nerves or self-doubt . . . or, on the other hand, arrogance or competitiveness. They were just loving every minute of the experience, especially the feeling of being "one of the gang" along with high school-aged and university-aged students.
They stood in marked contrast to the other elementary-aged students who stood slump-shouldered, mumbled, sang weakly, lisped, stared uncomfortably at the floor, resisted "being next" to sing, made excuses, sang off key, rushed, got off tempo, etc. However, I'm sure that those kids' parents were just as proud of them as I was of Abigail and Suzanna. And perhaps a few of them found faults in our kids that weren't evident to me. I'm aware that I'm not impartial here and was not, perhaps, the most objective person observing auditions. I don't care; our kids did a great job. At one point, the dancer who taught everyone the audition routine came over to me and whispered, "Your kids are phenomenal!" And the director himself told me that our kids perform with such confidence on stage--something awesome for him to see. I agree!
On the way to the vehicle afterward, both Abigail and Suzanna raved about the experience itself and about the older kids whom they had met: this person is so funny, and that person is so cool, and the other person is so talented, and another is so nice. They ran through a list of compliments that they had for each singer they had heard, and they decided that, even if they didn't get cast, the auditions themselves were worth every minute of preparation and performance. Terrific!
The next evening, the telephone rang, and I answered. "Could I speak to Abigail or Suzanna please?" It was the assistant director . . . phoning to offer them parts in the musical! They both play Hunches, characters who have a scene and musical number with the Cat in the Hat (played by an actor whom the girls thought was the coolest person at auditions, so they're especially delighted). They're also in the chorus and will appear in group numbers as children in Whoville. Each girl spoke so calmly and professionally on the telephone, accepting her role and agreeing to attend the first read-through of the script (tomorrow night). But once they hung up the phone, there was much squealing and leaping about the kitchen and celebrating. (And that was just Daddy!)
If you're within driving distance and would like to attend a performance, mark your calendars: October 30-31 and November 1-2. If you're too far away, just keep an alert eye on Pensive? No, Just Thinking; faithful readers know that photos and recaps are certain to appear here highlighting the girls' university stage production debuts!
The first part of auditions consisted of learning and performing a brief dance routine. The show's choreographer brought everyone on stage and taught them a few dance steps, including the grapevine, that ubiquitous staple of musical theatre. Then she joined the director in the audience, and a senior university student with lots of dance experience (and, by the way, a student of mine) took over, teaching the group the steps to a short routine set to a portion of a song from Big River. Soon she left the stage, and the dancers were left to perform for the director's and choreographer's inspection. With all their dance experience, Suzanna and Abigail did just fine. They even moved energetically, substituting pizazz for the clumsy, stumbling, stare-at-everybody-else's-feet nervousness that most others exhibited. It was especially funny to watch the small-group displays in which three or four people at a time danced the routine, the university-aged auditioners watching our daughters' feet the entire time ("I'll just do what she's doing").
The second part of auditions consisted of singing the numbers that auditioners had prepared to display their vocal talent. In order to move things along, the director forewarned everybody that he would be cutting people off after about 16 or so measures. In some cases that was quite merciful; the director's "Okay, thank you" ended what was misery for the singer and those of us in the audience alike. Some auditioner's had made poor song choices (how many Disney cartoon songs did we hear?), but others had chosen no songs whatsoever and thus arrived at auditions needing to borrow music from someone else or to chit-chat with the pianist to see what music he might have brought along that they could use. One girl brought a CD by a country music artist, and she had the director play it while she sang along, the artist's voice completely covering her own whispy little voice (in fact, she appeared merely to be lip-synching). Unbelievable.
Then there were our daughters. The director didn't call off people's names to sing; instead, he let people volunteer, and Abigail was maybe the second or third person to leap on stage. She handed the pianist her music, affirmed that he was right with the tempo that he suggested, took her position downstage center, and performed (not simply "sang") her number. As he did with everyone else, the director cut her off about a third of the way into the song with his thanks, and Abigail collected her music, took her seat, and turned her attention to the next singer. Completely composed and entirely professional. Suzanna did exactly the same thing. They both made auditioning for a musical seem like old hat, and they showed not the slightest sign of nerves or self-doubt . . . or, on the other hand, arrogance or competitiveness. They were just loving every minute of the experience, especially the feeling of being "one of the gang" along with high school-aged and university-aged students.
They stood in marked contrast to the other elementary-aged students who stood slump-shouldered, mumbled, sang weakly, lisped, stared uncomfortably at the floor, resisted "being next" to sing, made excuses, sang off key, rushed, got off tempo, etc. However, I'm sure that those kids' parents were just as proud of them as I was of Abigail and Suzanna. And perhaps a few of them found faults in our kids that weren't evident to me. I'm aware that I'm not impartial here and was not, perhaps, the most objective person observing auditions. I don't care; our kids did a great job. At one point, the dancer who taught everyone the audition routine came over to me and whispered, "Your kids are phenomenal!" And the director himself told me that our kids perform with such confidence on stage--something awesome for him to see. I agree!
On the way to the vehicle afterward, both Abigail and Suzanna raved about the experience itself and about the older kids whom they had met: this person is so funny, and that person is so cool, and the other person is so talented, and another is so nice. They ran through a list of compliments that they had for each singer they had heard, and they decided that, even if they didn't get cast, the auditions themselves were worth every minute of preparation and performance. Terrific!
The next evening, the telephone rang, and I answered. "Could I speak to Abigail or Suzanna please?" It was the assistant director . . . phoning to offer them parts in the musical! They both play Hunches, characters who have a scene and musical number with the Cat in the Hat (played by an actor whom the girls thought was the coolest person at auditions, so they're especially delighted). They're also in the chorus and will appear in group numbers as children in Whoville. Each girl spoke so calmly and professionally on the telephone, accepting her role and agreeing to attend the first read-through of the script (tomorrow night). But once they hung up the phone, there was much squealing and leaping about the kitchen and celebrating. (And that was just Daddy!)
If you're within driving distance and would like to attend a performance, mark your calendars: October 30-31 and November 1-2. If you're too far away, just keep an alert eye on Pensive? No, Just Thinking; faithful readers know that photos and recaps are certain to appear here highlighting the girls' university stage production debuts!
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