Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Up-To-Date with "Sublime Intervention"


I just received an email from John Jarzemsky, the director/producer of "Sublime Intervention." He requested my clothing sizes and told me he would soon take me to Lucy in Disguise to try on wardrobe items. I guess it's really going to happen. Gulp.

To bring everyone up to date, here's the chronology of this chapter of "Acting Like An Actor." The audition was to be held on Feb. 15, 6 days after I responded to a casting call posted on AustinActors.com on Feb. 9. On Feb 10 I received an email notifying me of the location of the audition.

I went to the audition planning to audition for the role of one of the homeless people, only one of whom has any lines. Despite that, we were told to bring a short monologue to read at the audition.

Homeless (male or female, all ages): 5 or 6 homeless men and women who are attending an outreach program at Clark's church.

I frantically searched for just the right monologue to read. The problem was I didn't know what was appropriate. I poked around on the internet, but found nothing that seemed right. I considered reading from my stand-up comedy routine, but ruled it out. I even considered reading the eulogy I had written for my recently deceased mother.

I fretted until the day of the of the audition before deciding on the eulogy. Yeah, that ought to be appropriate. But, it was somewhat humorous, so I thought, "What the heck!"

As I entered the studio and walked to the front where two people stood flanking a camera the doubts began to flood my thoughts and confuse my rational mind. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience and watching myself walk into that darkened studio like a condemned man walking to the gallows. I began to think maybe I shouldn't have chased those two tabs of acid with a couple of margaritas an hour ago. Oh, well, too late now.

There I am, sitting in the studio with the director, an assistant, and the camera. He, the director -- not the camera, asked me what I brought to read. I can still see the look on his and his assistant's faces when I said, "I brought a copy of the eulogy I wrote for my mother's funeral service 3 weeks ago."

Then he asked me to read for the part of Tommy, the only homeless person with any lines. I didn't know whether to look up at the camera after reading each line, which caused me to lose my place, or to just keep my head down and read. I pursued the former tactic. Maybe it wasn't such a good plan as I felt like a bobble head doll on the dash of Bubba's pickup racing down a washboard road toward the local bar just minutes before closing.

After the reading was over the director said he would be contacting me later. Then, about a week later he called me and offered me the role of the doctor.

Doctor (male, middle-aged): Doctor who informs Clark and his wife of their miscarriage in flashback.

I will only be involved for one day of shooting around the end of this month or the first of next month.

Here's a synopsis of the short film.

Clark, a depressed, recovering-alcoholic preacher finds himself face-to-face with temptation in his local tavern one night in more ways than one! After striking up a conversation with a total stranger, Clark finds himself face-to-face with none other than Satan, himself. Through some harrowing revelations, Clark finds his already faltering faith growing weaker by the minute, and the Devil's proposed solutions more and more alluring. This is a dark, surreal journey into the world of faith or the lack thereof, and a cautionary tale about the dangers of hopelessness.

Whoopee! I'm gonna play a doctor in a film. The fact that I have no lines takes most of the pressure off. It also helped relieve the pressure of my very first audition. Soon I'll be able to say,"I'm not a doctor, but I play one in a film."

That's what I'm talking about!

1 comment:

Susan said...

OK, so I read your posts backwards - the latest to the earliest so I noticed that you did explain the audition more.
I can't wait to hear how the filming goes - an insiders view!
Susan