The Reel World

There’s a site from which a lot of actors find out about and submit for auditions, called actors access. You post a few of your head shots, your resume, size card, and elaborate a little on your talents and assets. When an audition in your area comes up, you can submit your information to hopefully get the opportunity to audition for whatever commercial, film, reality TV series, etc. you have in mind.

But if you’re like me–starting out in the entertainment industry, with little to no experience on film–then you have nothing when it comes to being able to provide a submission that includes a reel of clips of your best work on tape.

It’s GOT to be the question of the century–not just for actors:

But how can I get experience if I have no experience?

Well–my approach isn’t all that unique. I’ve decided to write a few 1-3 minute scenes of my own. They’ll include me and a friend or two, and hopefully showcase any viable talent I could possibly demonstrate for the camera. Expensive camera equipment isn’t in the budget for me at the moment, as I’m moving into my own (expensive) studio at the end of May, so I plan to do all of the filming using my iPhone, an external mic, a tripod, and lots of creativity.

The thing is, for me, it’s been nearly impossible to get an audition using actors access without clips and/or a reel. I’ve tried it. If I have any chance at all at getting a role, it’s most certainly going to be based on my acting talent rather than my head shots. I can’t speak for anyone else on this one, so you might be able to land auditions left and right based solely on just a head shot. I’m just saying it didn’t work out for me like that.

And because I love the process, I’m going to keep trying. While I’m at it, I might as well have some fun.

The first scene I’m working on comes from a work of fiction I have in progress called Union Of Vampires. I intend to write a short scene and act it out with my dad. He and I will be vampires–Father & Daughter.

I put out the word to my friends on social media that I’m looking for friends who are open to acting with me in my self-written/self-taped/self-directed scenes, and I got great feedback and support. I had no idea so many people would be willing to play around with me, and it brings me joy to think about.

At the very least, even if I find I’m not made for film work, at least I will have some awesome experiences with brave and open-minded friends and family to look back on one day.

For me, having fun with it is the most important thing. And hopefully, I’ll be able to put together some clips at the end of it all that speak for my abilities. Who knows? Maybe a few of my friends and family will want to get in on the action!

Improvisational Theatre Workshop: Lesson 3

“You’re good at playing the weird character. But you don’t have to do that all the time,” Keli suggested.

“I can’t help it,” I responded. The other artists in the workshop laughed.

In the moment, I felt discouraged. I’d always used my strangeness as an advantage. Saying bizarre and sometimes ignorant things usually garnered laughs from the audience. I had become comfortable being an oddball.

But once I gave Keli’s correction some thought, I realized she was absolutely right.

I don’t have to be weird all the time.

I’m learning as I go in this process. And what I’m recognizing is my own tendency to limit myself within the boundaries of certain characters I create. I’ve hidden behind humor in the same way. A scene might be good with some humor and a out-of-this-world lines, but how can I elevate myself beyond the comfort zone of playing the fool?

I have to be myself. And if I don’t know myself, I want to figure myself out. I know for sure that in everyday life I only sometimes play the fool. Sometimes, I play the dumb female jock–physically strong but intellectually incapable of creating something. Sometimes, I play the child–naive and hopeful, sweet and begging for protection. But seldom have I embraced my own true existance as a real woman, a real human being for that matter. I’ve been playing from my head and not my heart.

What on earth will happen if I come to the performance from a place of love and compassion? Of humility? Of a need to be forgiven? Of stress and chaos of adulthood? Of the reality of feeling like I have such unanswered potential? What if I bring my need for validation as a human being and not as an actor?

These are the questions I want to explore. Later this week, I’m going to be auditioning for a spot in another improv troupe in town. And honestly, forget the audition–I just want to play. And I want to play better than I ever have before. Best case scenario, I get a spot. Worst case scenario, I’ll make a few new friends. Sounds like another win/win to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FTW

At the end of last night’s class, JR asked us to get with a partner and work out an improvised scene. Improv is my favorite art within the art–probably because it’s what I’m best at. I live for improv. I used to be a part of a live improv comedy troupe here in town…

Anyway, I was partnered with Noelle–a skilled actress who is just about to start working on another film. Improvised scenes for the sake of this class have allowed us a little time to set up our scenarios in advance; they aren’t quite as off-the-cuff as the live shows I used to do, where the audience shouts directions and you literally have no time to think or prepare. Noelle and I set up a scene where we were best friends, and I would meet her at a coffee shop and tell her that I lied to everyone about winning the lottery.

The exercise went well, but JR could tell that I was holding something back, and called me out on it. I had been searching for the answer to Noelle’s question as to why I lied, and all I could do was play with my plastic cupful of ice. (Noelle knew that wherever I went, I always got an ice water and gulped it down right away.) I wanted to suck and crunch the ice in that cup, but it wasn’t real.

We ended the improv in silence.

Later, after I was home, the why came to me. I was thinking about the lottery, and how life can sometimes get so boring and tedious. If we aren’t careful, we can lose our sense of humor. And if we really aren’t careful, we can forget what it’s like to feel. But what feels good?

Winning feels good. 

And I wanted to know what it was like to win something.

I flashed back to Charlie Sheen’s unforgettable Winning/Tiger’s Blood interview, and a smile came to my face. That’s because I realized that there are so many ways to win. You can win with humor and you can win with honesty. You can win with love and you can win with courage. You can win with intellect and you can win with integrity. You can win with silence and you can win with forgiveness.

The improv is over, but I have sympathy for my character and that lie she told to win friends, attention, and excitement. I’ll go so far as to say that humans need these things. I just wish my character realized that she had all of these things already without having to lie.

In this business, it’s said that you’re only as good as your last performance. I guess that depends on what you consider your last performance. Luckily, if your last scene was subpar, there’s always another one around the corner.

You’re not supposed to chew your ice, I repeated to Noelle.

It’s bad for your teeth.