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The Boards, Wednesday Evening - Auditions!

So, this was it! Jono had known as soon as people had started showing up with their genders not quite in check last weekend that he was going to need to hold another set of auditions for the spring production, and, after spending yesterday in a distracted sort of daydream state, he was actually feeling fairly on the ball today.

Auditions!
The Consequence of Being Frank
Rehearsals on Wednesdays, Performance Friday, March 8
Cast and Crew Wanted!

He was kind of hoping for some guys to come in and audition today, too. After all, 'The Consequence of Being Francine' just didn't have that same double-meaning to it. But he'd work with whatever he was given, of course.

[Open auditions are open to all!]

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Lemon water, tea, pastries, mingling. You know the score!

It's easy. Just get up onto the stage, introduce yourself, and then perform your monologue.

Remember, the more you act it up, the more Jono has to work with while casting you! Be ~~descriptive~~ ~~thorough~~ expressive!

He has coffee. He's here to talk to about the production, or whatever suits your fancy, really. For all that he's a big grump, he actually kind of loves talking.

Sssh, don't tell.

I might be thrust into SP for the start of the day, since it looks like work is starting to hand me, you know, work to do! But I will be around in the evening, so don't fret if I don't get to you right away.

Please, be descriptive with your character's performance of their monologue, so that I know what sort of job they actually did up there. Preference will be given to people who give more for me to work with, so it can't hurt to go through and show how your character acts out the whole thing.

If you don't have a monologue handy, poke me here OOCly or just have your character ask Jono ICly, and one will be chucked at you at random.

Have fun!

Karla, being female again, was in a much better frame of mind to perform a monologue today than she had been on Saturday. After helping herself to some snacks, she bounded up to center stage.

"Kiss kiss," she said, mostly because she thought it was silly to introduce herself to Jono. "My name is Karla and I'm performing the monologue 'Catherine' by Chris Wind. I'm pretty sure that you will understand why I chose it by the time I'm done."

[SP for Remicaid.]

"I can only imagine what it is you're about to throw at me, Karla," Jono chuckled, shaking his head a little. "It's good to see your mood improved since last we spoke, at any rate. Let's hear what you've got prepared, luv."

"We should also figure out when I'm going to come back and sing for you," she said, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

When she opened them again, she was someone else. Someone cold, proud, hard, and angry. Her voice was tight when she began speaking, tense with anger and contemptuous amusement. Taut with those two emotions as an imperfect cover for a depth of hurt that even she couldn't fathom.

Only her eyes and voice showed the volume of her emotions. It was a wonder that she was big enough to contain it all. She was Catherine and she was righteous fury kept barely in check, seething around the edges. She held herself perfectly still in hopes of maintaining that steely control, because even one false move might make her rage and hurt explode.

"That you don't recognize me by name is but the first of my complaints about my tale. Oh you know me alright. I'm the main character—in a tale titled with the name of one of the men in the story. But what's in a name? A lot. Especially if it's a man's name. This man's name is the answer to the question upon which rests the fate of myself and my newborn child. So his name is very powerful, it is very important. My name apparently is not."

How many females did this monologue speak to? How many women and girls, in literature and in history, had their names sandpapered over in favor of the men that lived with them? How many women had been the objects and the subjects, but never the actors in their own lives' dramas? How many of them felt nameless and voiceless and buried, even while they still breathed?

Catherine--and Karla--spoke for those women.

"Nor is my life. For whether it is to be filled with joy and delight from being with my newborn, or empty with grief and loss from separation is to be decided by a mere guessing game.

Nor are my words important. I denied my father's boast. I told the King I most definitely could not spin gold out of straw. But he didn't believe me. Of course not. He chose instead to believe the words of an immature, egotistic, vain man. And I suffer the consequences."

Now she began moving, an angry panther-stride back in forth at center stage. She'd worn her Widow's Weeds and they roiled around her feet, like an agitated whorl of ink.

Her voice dropped lower, still pitched enough to reach the audience, but quiet enough to make them lean forward to make sure they heard. There were no exclamations, no forceful questions, no yelling, even. Just words chosen to cut and delivered with all the feeling she could muster.

"The consequences. To pay for my father's ridiculous lie, I lose my sanity, my freedom, and my dignity for three nights—and almost my child, forever. (And one sentence—one sentence--in the whole tale is devoted to that ‘choice’, that decision to give up my child in return for my life.)"

No, seriously, did you understand how wrong that was? Karla stopped pacing to look out at the audience, giving the illusion she was meeting everyone's eyes with her own. For a moment, just a bare moment, her posture slipped; her fury faded, and the bare hurt had a chance to show throw. One sentence to damn her forever, to make the god-awful choice to give up now or to give up something even more later.

She looked away, a sharp motion, closing her eyes and drawing in one more breath. Now was not for her pain to be on view. If they'd wanted that, she should have gotten more than a single sentence. Instead, they would get her rage and they could choke on it.

"Because I 'succeeded' on the third night, I was 'rewarded' with marriage to the King. Thus, for all intents and purposes, I also lost my life. Can you imagine what it is like to be married—legally bound to honour and obey--until death, and socioeconomically bound with little option but to stay and make the best of it—to a man who didn't believe me, a man who locked me in a room for three nights, a man so greedy that he said three nights in a row he'd kill me unless I did as he wanted? And that was before he owned me."

Edited 2013-01-30 14:30 (UTC)

Her smile was tight-lipped and ghastly, offering the audience to imagine what that must have been like. For him to have gotten a child upon her. To bid your child's life on your survival only to realize that it wasn't worth the bargain.

"But as the tale says, I am shrewd and clever. And I have learned the force of threat, and the importance of a name—especially if it is male. Proud fathers want very much to pass it on. But royal fathers—dear husband, aging Highness, what would happen to your precious lineage if my, your, only son were to suddenly—"

She paused, biting off the end of the word so the silence was just as sudden as whatever it was she was suggestion. And that bitter smile grew.

"Since I am not dead, and am living still..."

Think on that, dear prince.

Jono was impressed. Not surprised by Karla's choice of monologue in the least, no. But definitely impressed.

"Picked something you could relate to, gel?" He gave a satisfied sort of nod. "You definitely channeled the character well, Karla. Well done."

"It neatly sums up most of my feelings about Earth literature," she agreed, making a moue of distaste. "A single line indeed. Hmmph!"

"A sad consequence of depriving females of education for centuries," Jono surmised. "One of many. A lot of literature was written by males and it shows."

He smiled faintly. "Things are improving in that regard, at least."

"How go the auditions?"

Natalie was back to normal in just about every way, yes.

Lizzie also had coffee.

"How are the numbers looking?" Lizzie asked, dropping into a seat near his.

She sort of assumed she'd be helping out with Frank. It helped that she had large chunks of it memorized, from watching the Colin Firth version.

... sure, most people liked the older black-and-white version better, but the older one didn't have Colin Firth.

Since Natalie was here and everything, she grabbed herself a pastry and some tea. Because they looked tasty.

"I'm dangerously close to dancing on the sidewalk wearing a sandwich board in an attempt to draw more people in," Jono replied, offering Natalie a wry smile. "Still, it's early in the evening, there's hope yet. And everyone who has auditioned so far has been very enthusiastic. That's always a good sign."

But he was going to be putting a lot of women in men's clothing for this show.

... Also not a complaint.

"Four so far," Jono sighed, glancing her way. "At this rate, luv, I might ask you to read for me, too. You like Wilde, right?"

Was that a stupid question? Jono was sure it might be a stupid question.

"Are you kidding? I love Wilde," Lizzie said. "I think I'd have to turn my English degree back in if I didn't."

She set her coffee on the ground and stood up. "If you're serious, and we need people, I'll read," she said. "I don't have anything prepared, though."

After the weekend she'd had, Natalie couldn't have really objected to that notion, no.

"Think you'll need more actors from the crew?"

Was she offering? Who even knew. She posed it as an idle question.

"I have monologues set aside in case people come in unprepared."

Read: In case Jono got desperate and started kidnapping people off the street.

"If not, you're welcome to improvise something. You wouldn't be the first, either."

April.

"I might," Jono replied, nodding faintly. "If it comes to it, some people might be double-cast, though there aren't exactly many options so far as that goes. And if I get desperate, I might ask my crew if they're interested in reading a role for me, as well."

He wouldn't force anybody onstage who wasn't comfortable there.

... Probably.

Wilde wasn't exactly the same thing as strutting around in fishnets for Petey Sci-Fi, though, and Natalie had managed to do that without feeling supremely uncomfortable.

"I could read," she shrugged. "Would have to see about how being in the play affects playing music for it, though."

Lizzie spotted the stack of monologues, and was leafing through them.

"Oh, wow, ~~meta for~~ An Ideal Husband," she said. "I'm snagging this. Hang on, I'll go up on stage and do this properly."

This? This was going to be fun.

Okay, maybe she enjoyed the theater. Sue her.

Edited 2013-01-30 20:52 (UTC)

Lizzie bounced (http://fandomtownies.livejournal.com/6722048.html?thread=253992960#t253992960) onto the stage, giving a quick bow to her employer.

"My name is Lizzie Bennet, and I ... don't actually know if this monologue has a proper title," she said, squinting at the sheet. "But it's a speech from A Suitable Spouse by Oscar Wilde. And I haven't had any time to prepare, so bear with me if it's a little rough."

"I suppose that would depend on the role," Jono mused. "I would still like you to be on piano, if possible. You're the only pianist on the island that I'm aware of, for one. You're the best I've heard, for another."

Rinoa had been good too, yes, but nothing quite like Natalie.

"I can be a little forgiving of rough," Jono replied, nodding up at her. "Considering you agreed to audition all of thirty seconds ago, rough is to be expected. If you'd like to take a minute to read it through and work out how you'd like to approach it, that would be fine, too."

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The Boards, Wednesday Evening - Auditions!

Arrive/Mingle

Audition!

Talk to Jono!

OOC!

Re: Audition!

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