Beraubt
This update will be less racy in content than previous ones, but let's face it: I created this blog to vent the vitriol and shit floating around in my head, and it's not actually purposed for this because I care about others reading it, so much as being an outlet that others have the option to respond to should they happen across it.
So let's therefore go to the current conundrum. Attempt, failure, and repercussions.
I am a musician and a music teacher in that order. It has been an ongoing ordeal searching for the right kind of employment in my particular region. Enrollment is shrivelling, leaving no real hope of a permanent music position in the near future, let alone the distant future. In fact, the job climate is so bad that even temporary contracts are in extremely short supply. As a result, I am a trained, experienced teacher in my fifth year of teaching and I am still going school to school every day covering the classes of other more fortunate teachers. But the climate is bad, you say? You shouldn't be too hard on yourself, right? My wife has had no such trouble. She interviews brilliantly, has always, ALWAYS achieved success in contracts, both temporary and permanent almost immediately as soon as such things became available. So, the shame lies with me. I sit at home waiting for the call in the morning which may or may not come depending on the day. When I don't work, I don't get paid, which makes sense, but I certainly am unable to contribute to the earnings of our household to the same degree, even though I want to powerfully.
All of this is nothing new. It has been the reality of things for at least the past three years since we returned from teaching abroad. I suppose that since we've been back, I have always attempted to curb the boredom and the lack of job satisfaction with artistic endeavours in the community. Weddings, community bands, community theatre, these things help take the edge off the fact that this afternoon, for instance, I'll be standing in front of a room of someone else's kids doing everything in my power to get them to just. do. what. the. teacher. asked. That will be my afternoon. And so the bitterness that has now sprung up as a result of this latest failed audition is what has really driven me to write this.
To preface, in high school, I had a very bad habit of building up unrealistic expectations of success when it came to auditioning for productions I wanted to be a part of. I remember quite well how crushing the results were to see the same student, a friend of mine, cast in the lead part for the second consecutive school production, when I felt quite strongly that I could have done the job better. To add further indignity, I was not given a place in the show at all, instead being relegated to the back of the pit band to plunk out a synthesized harp part. They let me wear the headset to communicate with the stage manager as a consolation. Now, at this point in my life I was not clear thinking enough to see that the other student was far and above a better candidate, even if he had headed up the previous show as well. He was tall, dark-haired, and a magnificent tenor, where I was average height, frumpy, bespectacled, and a skilled but otherwise unremarkable singer. I couldn't see past my desire for the role to the directors' need for the right person. Many musicals have followed, and I have developed considerably in range, ability, and appearance. Despite this, the pattern, as it were, seems to have continued with a few notable repeats of this same situation. I auditioned, believed I was easily the best candidate for a given part, and subsequently was placed no higher than the chorus. The directors have always expressed regret that nothing better could have been offered, that the audition was very strong and that it came down to picking the best person for the part. So, really, my frustration and bitterness stems from the fact that my aspirations are so easily hampered by simply not looking the part. I should be clear on this one, as well: I am in reasonable shape, I am not short nor over-tall (in the neighbourhood of 6 feet), do not wear glasses and present a definite and (I hope) inoffensive style. I am not an ugly man, I can be sure of that, but I suppose there must be something in the general appearance and/or timbre of voice that just doesn't warrant being placed in a leading spot.
The phone call I received in response was an exercise in aggravation for me. The director is an extremely sweet woman with whom I've worked before. She began the call by expressing just how much she had loved my audition and just how deeply she had been drawn into the character that I had been trying to portray... which immediately told me that I didn't receive my first choice. Or, as it turned out, my second or third. She then proceeded to go on about how difficult the choice had been, and how the decision had really come down to real minutiae of character - that of those who were being considered for the part, some were stronger in some areas while others were stronger elsewhere. But always the discussion came back to just how much she had loved my audition, and how lucky they would be if I agreed to join the chorus. All of these things are very nice things to say, and I believe come from a genuine well-intentioned desire to alleviate some of the disappointment of having been turned down, but they most certainly do not help. Quite the opposite. The gut reaction I experience is that if I'm good enough for the part, I should have gotten the part, right? I see the flaws in this logic, particularly given the explanation, but it doesn't help to calm the bruised ego.
She took the next step to explain that one other factor they had to consider was not having the same people in lead roles for every show. The organization should change things up from time to time so that the audience doesn't get sick of seeing the same actor in the lead parts for every show. This makes perfect sense, and I agree wholeheartedly. The place where this fell flat for me was that my exposure so far has been playing in two out of the last four shows, and in these playing first a small-ish part and then a supporting role. The gentleman who will be playing the role I was interested in, again a good friend, has been in three of the last four productions (not four because one was a show consisting entirely of female parts), and in each of these shows he has been the lead actor. In the last show I did, playing the supporting male part, he was the main character. I feel that this declaration was made largely because, without taking into account the actual balance between the two of us, it was thought that having the two of us on stage in the most prominent male roles again would be too similar. This, as I've obviously been alluding to, completely disregards the fact that the same fellow will have headed up four of the last five shows by the end of this. If ensuring variety amongst their actors was actually a priority, I can imagine things would have turned out differently. Did I mention that they asked me to understudy his part? This will entail me showing up to all the rehearsals for the part, learning all of the music, lines, and blocking for the part, even getting fitted for the character's costume, and then not playing the part come show time.
And that, folks, is my rant. It completely disregards a few things:
1. As I genuinely have improved over the years, I do tend to receive parts in shows where other very able people who regularly come out and have been coming out for years long before I became involved, have been happily trucking along in the chorus. I don't necessarily have a right to bitch and moan about being back there after having had two consecutive shows with parts, not to mention a lead role in a fairly dowdy and clumsy country theatre company a little closer to home. For the record, and I say this with no exaggeration or ego, they would have been sunk for this part without me. There was just no one else that showed up who could have sung this stuff.
2. The fellow they have playing the part in the show is quite good, and has a physical appearance that is quite conducive to the image most music theatre lead males are written to resemble. As a result, I feel that he is fairly irresistible to directors, especially as they almost always change from show to show, so he's always new to them. I am not as classically good looking, nor quite as tall, nor quite as fit.
3. Despite all the bitterness unloaded above, I deeply enjoy working with this theatre group, and don't have many doubts that I will accept what they've offered me and ultimately enjoy myself doing it. My only real regret in this is the lack of professional development I'll acquire considering the time spent in rehearsal, not to mention the not-inconsiderable amount of time it takes to drive there.
Now that this is done and written, my goal is to try and put a stop to the fictional conversations in my head with the director that have been ongoing since being notified last night. It creates an unfair caricature of her, considering what she must have to go through in her position and the realities of the decision-making process, and it certainly only perpetuates my own frustration.
I'm out.
So let's therefore go to the current conundrum. Attempt, failure, and repercussions.
I am a musician and a music teacher in that order. It has been an ongoing ordeal searching for the right kind of employment in my particular region. Enrollment is shrivelling, leaving no real hope of a permanent music position in the near future, let alone the distant future. In fact, the job climate is so bad that even temporary contracts are in extremely short supply. As a result, I am a trained, experienced teacher in my fifth year of teaching and I am still going school to school every day covering the classes of other more fortunate teachers. But the climate is bad, you say? You shouldn't be too hard on yourself, right? My wife has had no such trouble. She interviews brilliantly, has always, ALWAYS achieved success in contracts, both temporary and permanent almost immediately as soon as such things became available. So, the shame lies with me. I sit at home waiting for the call in the morning which may or may not come depending on the day. When I don't work, I don't get paid, which makes sense, but I certainly am unable to contribute to the earnings of our household to the same degree, even though I want to powerfully.
All of this is nothing new. It has been the reality of things for at least the past three years since we returned from teaching abroad. I suppose that since we've been back, I have always attempted to curb the boredom and the lack of job satisfaction with artistic endeavours in the community. Weddings, community bands, community theatre, these things help take the edge off the fact that this afternoon, for instance, I'll be standing in front of a room of someone else's kids doing everything in my power to get them to just. do. what. the. teacher. asked. That will be my afternoon. And so the bitterness that has now sprung up as a result of this latest failed audition is what has really driven me to write this.
To preface, in high school, I had a very bad habit of building up unrealistic expectations of success when it came to auditioning for productions I wanted to be a part of. I remember quite well how crushing the results were to see the same student, a friend of mine, cast in the lead part for the second consecutive school production, when I felt quite strongly that I could have done the job better. To add further indignity, I was not given a place in the show at all, instead being relegated to the back of the pit band to plunk out a synthesized harp part. They let me wear the headset to communicate with the stage manager as a consolation. Now, at this point in my life I was not clear thinking enough to see that the other student was far and above a better candidate, even if he had headed up the previous show as well. He was tall, dark-haired, and a magnificent tenor, where I was average height, frumpy, bespectacled, and a skilled but otherwise unremarkable singer. I couldn't see past my desire for the role to the directors' need for the right person. Many musicals have followed, and I have developed considerably in range, ability, and appearance. Despite this, the pattern, as it were, seems to have continued with a few notable repeats of this same situation. I auditioned, believed I was easily the best candidate for a given part, and subsequently was placed no higher than the chorus. The directors have always expressed regret that nothing better could have been offered, that the audition was very strong and that it came down to picking the best person for the part. So, really, my frustration and bitterness stems from the fact that my aspirations are so easily hampered by simply not looking the part. I should be clear on this one, as well: I am in reasonable shape, I am not short nor over-tall (in the neighbourhood of 6 feet), do not wear glasses and present a definite and (I hope) inoffensive style. I am not an ugly man, I can be sure of that, but I suppose there must be something in the general appearance and/or timbre of voice that just doesn't warrant being placed in a leading spot.
The phone call I received in response was an exercise in aggravation for me. The director is an extremely sweet woman with whom I've worked before. She began the call by expressing just how much she had loved my audition and just how deeply she had been drawn into the character that I had been trying to portray... which immediately told me that I didn't receive my first choice. Or, as it turned out, my second or third. She then proceeded to go on about how difficult the choice had been, and how the decision had really come down to real minutiae of character - that of those who were being considered for the part, some were stronger in some areas while others were stronger elsewhere. But always the discussion came back to just how much she had loved my audition, and how lucky they would be if I agreed to join the chorus. All of these things are very nice things to say, and I believe come from a genuine well-intentioned desire to alleviate some of the disappointment of having been turned down, but they most certainly do not help. Quite the opposite. The gut reaction I experience is that if I'm good enough for the part, I should have gotten the part, right? I see the flaws in this logic, particularly given the explanation, but it doesn't help to calm the bruised ego.
She took the next step to explain that one other factor they had to consider was not having the same people in lead roles for every show. The organization should change things up from time to time so that the audience doesn't get sick of seeing the same actor in the lead parts for every show. This makes perfect sense, and I agree wholeheartedly. The place where this fell flat for me was that my exposure so far has been playing in two out of the last four shows, and in these playing first a small-ish part and then a supporting role. The gentleman who will be playing the role I was interested in, again a good friend, has been in three of the last four productions (not four because one was a show consisting entirely of female parts), and in each of these shows he has been the lead actor. In the last show I did, playing the supporting male part, he was the main character. I feel that this declaration was made largely because, without taking into account the actual balance between the two of us, it was thought that having the two of us on stage in the most prominent male roles again would be too similar. This, as I've obviously been alluding to, completely disregards the fact that the same fellow will have headed up four of the last five shows by the end of this. If ensuring variety amongst their actors was actually a priority, I can imagine things would have turned out differently. Did I mention that they asked me to understudy his part? This will entail me showing up to all the rehearsals for the part, learning all of the music, lines, and blocking for the part, even getting fitted for the character's costume, and then not playing the part come show time.
And that, folks, is my rant. It completely disregards a few things:
1. As I genuinely have improved over the years, I do tend to receive parts in shows where other very able people who regularly come out and have been coming out for years long before I became involved, have been happily trucking along in the chorus. I don't necessarily have a right to bitch and moan about being back there after having had two consecutive shows with parts, not to mention a lead role in a fairly dowdy and clumsy country theatre company a little closer to home. For the record, and I say this with no exaggeration or ego, they would have been sunk for this part without me. There was just no one else that showed up who could have sung this stuff.
2. The fellow they have playing the part in the show is quite good, and has a physical appearance that is quite conducive to the image most music theatre lead males are written to resemble. As a result, I feel that he is fairly irresistible to directors, especially as they almost always change from show to show, so he's always new to them. I am not as classically good looking, nor quite as tall, nor quite as fit.
3. Despite all the bitterness unloaded above, I deeply enjoy working with this theatre group, and don't have many doubts that I will accept what they've offered me and ultimately enjoy myself doing it. My only real regret in this is the lack of professional development I'll acquire considering the time spent in rehearsal, not to mention the not-inconsiderable amount of time it takes to drive there.
Now that this is done and written, my goal is to try and put a stop to the fictional conversations in my head with the director that have been ongoing since being notified last night. It creates an unfair caricature of her, considering what she must have to go through in her position and the realities of the decision-making process, and it certainly only perpetuates my own frustration.
I'm out.
posted by Ubersehen | 08:01
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home