 |
 |
How our man discovered
he's not the new Joel Grey
of TheColumnists.com
I've always loved the theatre. And I've always wanted to act.
That's why the news of an audition for "Cabaret" caught my attention. It's the next production for the Theatre of the Republic, the community theatre in Conway, S.C., where my beautiful wife, Sara, and I spend our winters.
The musical, which opened on Broadway in 1966 and became a movie with Liza Minnelli six years later, is one of my favorites.
But seeing a play and acting in it--that's quite a difference. Even so, I decided to give it a try. I have always aspired to play the master of ceremonies, a part made famous by Joel Grey. He portrays a sleazy but pivotal character in this story about a struggling nightclub singer in pre-World War II Berlin.
 |
judge: Does Zinman (at right) have the charisma of Joel Grey (at left)? |
 |
I had two barriers to overcome. The audition required all those trying out for the m.c. role to sing. That was a big hurdle for me. I am Johnny One-Note. I can't read music. And I'm tone deaf.
Problem Two was this: I have this lingering notion that I have been blacklisted as an actor. Maybe I'm paranoid. But this impression traces back to childhood. When I was 12, I went to summer camp in Connecticut. In a camp play, I got the part of the old man of the woods. On opening night, everything collapsed. I got stage fright. I forgot my lines. I can still remember the director frantically whispering to me from the wings.
I think the word got out through the community theatre network. Casting Zinman is a one-way ticket to disaster. He can't learn his lines. Since then, I have never won a part.
Still, as they say, hope springs eternal. I decided to try once more!--this time for "Cabaret." It opens in Conway's Main Street Theatre on Feb. 28.
Okay, now I had to decide what to sing at the audition. I thought of classics like "Some Enchanted Evening" from "South Pacific" or "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" from "Oklahoma." But I knew I didn't have the vocal range.
So, my b.w. Sara asked me one day, "What are you going to do?" I told her I hadn't decided. That's the way things stood until the day before the audition.
I happened to telephone an old friend, Don Kelly, a director of a theatre group on Long Island. I told him about my try-out plans.
"When I audition,"
said Kelly, whose range is as small
as mine, "I do 'The Chicquita Banana Song.'"
"It was as if a light bulb turned on. That was the song! Its range was so narrow, anyone could do it. It was written as a radio commercial back in the 1940s. Its South of the Border melody was so catchy, people started singing it everywhere. If you've never heard it, think of the late Brazilian bombshell Carmen Miranda belting out a tune while doing a rhumba.
On Sunday, the first of two days of tryouts, three others auditioned for the m.c. role. The three--all in their 20s (about a third of my age)--did show tunes and sang them well. Then, it was my turn. I stepped on stage and took out a banana. In the tenth row, I could spot Sara's eyes bugging out like saucers. Then, I began:
"I'm Chicquita Banana
and I'm here to say
Bananas have to ripen in a certain way.
When they are flecked with brown and have a certain hue
Bananas taste the best and are the best for you."
I tried to sing loudly, aiming my words to the last row. I did a little dance step, and finished by tossing the banana to the audience. People applauded. I thought I put myself in the running.
 |
BIENVENU, WELCOME! HOW'M I DOING?" |
I did not bargain for what came next. Director Tim McGhee told us the m.c. would be in the Kit-Kat Club's chorus line. Now we had to dance!--first as if we were women, then as men.
We stood in a line and choreographer Marla Sage showed us a routine. Patiently, she took us through the movements. It was here that I really began to appreciate what it takes to become an actor. You not only have to speak and move fluently--that is a given--but you must be able to sing and dance. It requires discipline, athleticism, endurance--all qualities I lacked.
As I tried to follow Sage's actions, I stumbled around a beat or two behind everyone else. My competitors were lithe and got better each go round. I got worse--doing the last sequence as gracefully as a baby elephant.
There was one more test. In the play. the m.c. greets an international audience. So he speaks in several languages. We were coached for a few minutes in lines sprinkled with French and German phrases. "Wilkommen, bienvenue, fremde, etranger..."" Then, we read passages with those words mixed with English. If singing and dancing weren't my downfall, this test sunk my ship.
Director McGhee said he would be sending letters telling us if we got a part. I won't be holding my breath.
Actually, the hard work begins after casting. Two-hour dance rehearsals will be held each Saturday for the next six or seven weeks. Vocal and stage rehearsals will be scheduled Sundays through Thursdays from 7:30 p.m. to 10 p.m.
That's not all. There may be some Sunday afternoon rehearsals. Cast members will also help work on the set. And this is all a labor of love.
P.S. The letter just arrived. And, sadly, I struck out again. Still, I wouldn't take anything for the experience. It gave me an inkling of what it's like to be on the other side of the footlights. I will remember that next time I go to a community theatre play and sit back thinking smugly that I could do a better job any day of the week.
©
2002 by David Zinman. The
Zinman caricature is © 2001 by Jim Hummel. The banana cartoon
is from IMSI's Master Clips collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd.
E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA. Zinman's photo was doctored
here; he didn't really show up like that at the audition!
You can comment on this column online. Please address your comments to either The Editors or David Zinman. To send an email, click here: talkback@thecolumnists.com
| Home | About Us | Archives | Talkback | Shopping Mall |