Acting is Hard

It's, like, really hard.

If I return to directing, this will be a good thing for me to know .

For my first audition, I prepped. I worked on the monologue, tried different approaches, played around. And I think I did pretty well. I did, actually. I got called back, right?

But the call-backs were different. In the scenes I was called back for, I only had a couple of lines to make an impression. I worked them out a little, made some choices.

After about an hour of waiting during other characters' call-backs, we (all of the Mr. Gilmers, Bob Ewells, Scouts, and Jems) were called into a room where the director and the already-cast Atticus and Judge were sitting. And we went through the scenes.

In my many years as a director, I took for granted that I should be able to ask a new actor for a certain approach, and they, you know, should do it. Eventually. I understood why they didn't do it right away. But I never really got it. But, it turns out, it's hard. Acting, I mean.

Really, it is.

All that TV you watch, all those movies, and you have your opinions about who can act and who can't, but really you secretly think they're just moving around and talking, right? I thought I knew better, but I didn't. Since my audition, I've been amazed at how good real actors are. And I haven't been watching Meryl Streep or Deniro movies. I've been watching Arrested Development and Modern Family. Actually, I watched the same episode of Arrested Development four times in a row, and even the lamest actor (I'm not naming names, David Cross) amazed me.

(Why did I watch the same episode of Arrested Development four times in a row? Because I write self-indulgent lesson plans, that's why.)

As I watched the other Mr. Gilmers do the scenes, in a couple of cases I thought "Oh, I'm better than that," but, really, I'm probably not. I realized sitting there that it wasn't just about having a particular approach or trying to look natural, although neither of those are a cake walk. Those are the base-line minimums, even in a little community show like this one. [Just about] all of the actors had that. The hard part is doing all that and being interesting, even with - especially with - a character who doesn't do all that much.

I had my approach to the character. In the scene, Gilmer, the prosecuting attorney, is questioning young, naive Mayella Ewell, the victim. Since he was on her side, and she was shaken, I let him be nice to her, but condescending. It makes sense, from an English-teacher analysis point of view, which, duh, is the wrong point-of-view to use, because it isn't dramatic.

Which makes it sound like if only I had chosen a different approach. . . But I don't think so. Cuz you know what? Acting is hard.

Talking to my wife on the way home, I said "If I were the director. . . hello? Are you there? Hello?. . . Is this my phone or yours?. . . Can you hear me? I can't hear you. Hello?. . . Oh, hi. If I were directing, I would cast two of the other guys in this role before I would cast me." And she said nice things, but, really, what could she say? She wasn't there. And, well, I'm not much of an actor, but I am a good director. So nyah.

And he did. The director, I mean. Cast one of those guys. If I could, I would tell him that he made the right choice. Cuz he did.

Did it sting a little? I think so. It's hard to tell. The very minute - nay, second ("nay"? See what even a little theater does?) that I read the disappointing email, a teacher came into my classroom and told me some unrelated, emotionally loaded news that had me angry for the rest of the day. I had a hard time sorting out whether I was over-reacting to her news because of the casting, or if it was the other way around. Either way, it wasn't the worst day, but it wasn't the best, either.

But okay: I was bumming a little. The thing about being called-back is it makes you want it.

Will I audition again? Maybe. It would be harder next time, because now I know how easy and fast it is to slide from "doing it for the audition" to "I want this part." And now I know how hard it is to say the lines, and know when to move, and figure out what the hell to do with your arms.

My daughter got an audition notice in the mail today. She's going to try out. I admire her courage.

There are adult parts, too.