Milk and Treatise

I have an audition for the Pasadena Playhouse tomorrow April 22, 2025. That's pretty much the entirety of my show-biz news since my last post so I'm going to milk it.

It's a very funny comedy called Eureka Day. In one iteration it starred Helen Hunt and got rave reviews. This isn't that iteration, but who knows? Pasadena Playhouse has a storied reputation for bringing in film and television actors who want to do "legitimate" theater.

When Equity advertises casting calls on its website the second thing I do is check the breakdown. Is there a part for me and, if not, WHY NOT? Yeah, I know. Eventually time catches us all and I can't play the romantic lead anymore. Well, I can. But, nobody wants to see it. So, I look for the quirky neighbor, lawless lawyer, father, brother, uncle, professor. You know, the other guys.

As luck would have it I fit multiple roles in Jonathan Spector's brilliant script. (I say brilliant because I fit multiple roles). Since it's a comedy they ask for a comedic monologue. Makes sense, right? But, have you looked at comedies lately? Actually, have you looked at comedies post - Shakespeare? Not a lot of monologues. Monologues aren't funny. Witty banter is funny. Prat falls are funny. Sardonic sarcasm is funny. But who can banter-prat fall-sarcasm with themselves?

I did what I always do and hit the research. (Some call it the internet but that sounds like cheating). I spent hours scouring my usual haunts for a catchy comic monologue. Here's the thing about acting - every teacher out there will tell you to do your homework. Get the back story. Mark the beats. Get inside the character. Read the play. That's well and good for Chekhov. He's everywhere. How do we fit illusive material into that formula? Ah, there's the rub.

Here's the other thing about acting - we make stuff up. When the material is MIA, we make stuff up. Improvisation is the happy accident of poor research and absent material. Viola. We have an art form.

In less than twenty four hours I will go make stuff up in front of people who can pay me a living wage. No, I'm not nervous. I'm excited. Because who wouldn't be excited to make stuff up for strangers who's sole purpose in being there is to judge you? That's theater. Show-biz, really. Judge not lest ye be a producer.

I'll let you know how it went. Or not. Or, maybe I'll make something up. Who knows?

Be blessed. Resist when you must https://www.fiftyfifty.one/ . Love often.