“When you see the big rock on your left, turn left”

“Never say I don’t take you to interesting places”

has become a joke between my boyfriend and myself as we’ve ended up in weird places for my auditions, shoots and the occasional festival opening. This time I was reading the directions for a film casting I attended the past week. Which included driving on dirt roads:

“When you see the big rock on your left, turn left”

I couldn’t help laughing

“Now I know I’ve hit the big time”

And so it was that at the big rock, I turned left to my audition venue. As prepped as I could be for a role whose description encompassed a name and “A young Afrikaans woman” So I wore my go-to audition dress and a pair of heels. For the first time this year I actually wore heels to an audition (with my flip flops in my handbag). I met the director and his assistant who promptly looked at me and said:

“How tall are you really?”

as my usually short frame towered over him in my heels.

“Well, I’m a lot more comfortable without them”

“In that case, lets do the whole audition without them”

I was relieved. And we continued with the first scene they wanted me to act out. I was given more character information, a frame of mind and context and we shot the first scene. I did notice when I walked into the audition room that there was no cameras or lighting equipment, as I’m used to for auditions. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I was told we would be shooting, and was quite frankly surprised when I realised I was to be filmed on an iPad. Well, there’s a first for everything I suppose.

And then we moved to the second scene. The director and his assistant looked at me seriously:

“For this scene we want tears. Real tears. When was the last time you cried?”

It had been a while:

“So things are going well for you” the director said jovially.

And I had less than five minutes to get myself into the appropriate frame of mind, and I’m not someone who cries easily. It’s something I’ve spent hours talking about with fellow actor-friends. The pros and cons and when is it self-indulgent to cry on stage, and how to really do it. And with not much time I thought about a vivid dream that had upset me and just let go. And although there was a lot of base on my tissue there were also tears on my cheeks. It seems that although I was asked for it, the director and his assistant hadn't expected it:

“Real tears. I’m impressed”

I was surprised.

Call Backs with Major Monologues

This year, so far, has been really slow for me. And after signing with a new agent I’ve been desperate to prove my worth. To prove that signing me was a good thing to do. And although I’ve been trying to stay positive, and my family has been very supportive it has been tough. Last Monday I had the pleasure of auditioning for a theatre piece which will be touring through South Africa and Africa. The show is an actress’s dream. It’s also about women, so as a feminist I really wanted in.

After my initial monologue I was asked to wait outside. When the casting and musical directors walked out I was handed sheet music. And two monologues. One monologue consisting of four pages, and one consisting of five pages. I had a call back. Something to be proud of. Something to show that I was worth keeping on the books. And to prove to myself more than anything that I’m still on the right track.

I was then told what the casting director wanted to see from me in the monologues. The type of energy, the feeling, the beats. I was a little older than the characters, and I had to play. I had to move away from some directions. I had to move toward others. I was bombarded with information. And then told that if I could learn the whole monologues it would be best. But if I couldn’t manage they would understand. They would be seeing me later that week.

I prepped my nine pages of dialogue as well as I could. I knew my song. I was as prepared as I could be when I arrived an hour early for my call back. As was the other 9 girls who arrived for call backs that day. And I assumed there would be about 9 more girls the next day. And we all wanted a slot in the cast of 6. Before we started the casting director spoke to us as a group:

“The reason that you ladies are all here today is because we can see you in the show. Now its just a question of finding the ladies who are the right fit for the show.”

The energy was amazing. A mix of ladies auditioning for the first time and those of us with a little experience. For the first time at an audition that I attended as we all waited for our turn to do our monologues the whole groups sat together and chatted while we waited.

And waited. 

The director for the play is New York based, so the round of call backs had to be recorded so that she can peruse them at her leisure in America. We were also miked for this. Which, as usual, involves some poor guy apologising profusely as he sticks a microphone up your shirt and a mike pack down your pants. It also meant I had to be very wearing of the movement of my clothes I had so meticulously plotted into my monologues. I was the second lady to be recorded so there were still some teething problems. I started my monologue, I was focused, I was on track, and then something toppled off the tripod taking the camera with it. I was commended on the right energy I was giving as I had been told to do. I was also told to relax and enjoy it. I started again. I reached about 2 paragraphs further than the first take when the school’s intercom blared the rehearsal space where we were auditioning. I wasn’t told to cut, so I carried on with the monologue through what we were all hoping to be a quick announcement. But no luck. After literally a minute of me keeping my pose between a monotone voice reading the changed rehearsal space for drumming practice and those pre-teens who had to go to the office I was eventually told I could stop by the casting director. She stared at the tiny intercom box in astonishment as the stream of announcements continued. When it eventually stopped she and the musical director just packed up laughing. This time was congratulated on keeping my focus for so long. And we started again. And thankfully the third time was a charm!

I had gathered that very few of the other girls had prepped the entire monologue, so I was thanked profusely for being very well prepared. I then returned outside to wait to do my second monologue. With a Russian accent. For some reason I was more nervous on my return to the audition space than before. I took a deep breath, was apologised to by the sound guy, and started monologue number two. As I was the first to finish without needing to leave early I asked if they were still going to need to see me. I was thanked again for being prepared. I was thanked for auditioning and I was thanked for coming. I was told it would be a long time before they would know about the casting as it had to be reviewed in America. And then a sweet sweet payoff from the casting director, who I learned afterward is an up-and-coming musical theatre director in South Africa:

“By the way Chandré, I love your look. It was really lovely to meet you”

YES!

Bare it all!

As often happens, I received a casting the night before it took place. Which perhaps is why actors tend be erratic. This casting was different due to a little add on in the email: in the advert the actresses would be appearing in their underwear, and therefore need to be comfortable with this. But there was no notice in casting brief about specific wardrobe. Usually if you need to wear a bikini for a casting you get warned beforehand. Although no amount of sit-ups in one evening is going to make you look better, it’s still worth a try. But then you also know to take a bikini along. I think this little note stuck somewhere in my mind, so when I got dressed for my audition that morning I made sure that my underwear wasn’t see-through at the very least. At the very least.

An hour’s drive became extended somewhat due to the robots being out as we had electricity blackouts in South Africa this past week. And although I arrived early for the casting so many hopefuls had arrived for another role that our casting ended up starting about 45 minutes late. It also gave all us ladies time to obsess as we were told we could change into our bikinis so long. Almost none of the girls had bikinis with them. None of us had been warned by our agents. Those who lived close by could drive quickly and fetch theirs, but others, such as myself, were left with the only other option. Strip. 

As I talked with three other ladies before the audition I was at least assured that they didn’t have bikinis with them, and would also be stripping for the camera. I couldn't help myself:

"Oh well, its my job"

I joked while I mimed pulling off my blue dress.

As we walked in for the casting we were given our options:

“Ladies, If you don’t have a bikini here that’s fine. Take off as much as you feel comfortable with. If you want to leave your pants on or anything its fine. But remember, for the advert you will be shooting in your underwear. Not a bikini. Just keep that in mind”

In the batch of women I did my casting with only about three ladies had bikinis on. The rest of us stripped down to our underwear and two girls just took their shirts off. I had a maroon bra on, and lime green polka-dotted bottoms on. If nothing else the clashing colours would make me stand out. And I was surprisingly fine with it. We were all in the same boat, and joking about what we were wearing beneath. And quite interesting it was probably the most relaxed casting I’ve ever done.

Fortunately I was finished with my casting before the electricity went out. But I heard some of the other girls had to do their casting in the lobby of the building as they were was no electricity to turn on the lights for the battery powered camera. I suppose there is a first time for everything.

"Slightly Over-Weight"

I'm not skinny. I'm not fat either. I am fit, and I have muscles. In fact, I'm on my Weigh-Less goal weight. But I have a goal weight, and I dieted down to get there. And I'm rather sensitive about that.

Body image is never an easy thing for any woman and most of us would rather be called an entire slew of other derogatory terms before being called fat. It's not right, but we are products of our society.And as an actress and a dancer weight has always been a tough topic. No matter how thick skinned I've grown a comment about my weight, or being the 'biggest' girl at a dance audition is enough to send me into renewed efforts at the gym, or to double my daily green tea intake.

And so on Sunday evening I received an email from my agent who, bless his heart has never commented on my weight, to audition for a film. I read the character description he suggested for me and agreed entirely. It's the type of character I want to play and that my agent and I had discussed, she's going to be fun to do, she's comedic.... And then the moment of the character description that changed it all:

"Slightly over-weight"

A small part of me died in that moment.

Now I know (or at the very least hold on to blind hope) that those three words are not why my agent suggested that particular character. She is everything we had discussed that I wanted to do and playing her would be so much fun. Except for those three words.

The morning before the audition a friend made me laugh:

“Well if that’s the case you’re going to get to eat a lot of doughnuts before you start shooting.”

I felt a lot better after that. And in my frumpy skirt, and the shirt I had that resembled a blouse the closest (the characters wardrobe of choice) I went off to my ‘fat-girl’ audition.

After the audition I happened to walk out with the casting agent, who informed me that most of the actresses coming in for the part were all commenting about the ‘slightly over-weight’ clause. He responded that perhaps that would settle for ‘a little chubby’. It really wasn’t about the weight.

“I think it’s more the type of energy for the character, more than the look” I ventured.

“Exactly”

And as the casting agent and the women feeding me lines had both laughed during my audition I’m praying for the best.

Starting with a bust and a BANG!

My mom had asked me earlier the day before I received the email: Did I know if I was still going to have my morning a week lecturing job this year. I was expecting the college where I teach drama and film not to reopen its doors again this year after the tumultuous year we had last year. An hour after my mother posed the question I received the electronic reply. The college was closed, and my safety net job, that literally kept petrol in my car was gone. During the quiet weeks the last two years the lecturing job not only sustained me financially, but also gave me something to focus on other than my Masters. I found out that I would by jumping without my safety net this year a few days before leaving for Europe. But as I was already receiving emails for auditions when I returned to South Africa from my fantastic new agent while I was in Milan I was somewhat quelled in my fears for the new year.

I landed in warm Johannesburg on a Monday afternoon with full on Bronchitis, and on Tuesday morning I left for my first casting for the year. On Wednesday morning propped up with couch syrup, antibiotics and pain medication I had another casting for my old favourite, Coke-a-Cola. 

After waiting for a few minutes the casting director I had handed my form into called me from the wall where I was standing and waiting.

“Come wait over here”

Two other blonde girls were already waiting there, and shortly afterwards 2 guys joined us. One of the guys was an acquaintance, and the two of us pondered our fate as we waited in our segregated area. We weren’t told why, but I assumed we fulfilled something that they were looking for specifically. We were then all thrown into the next batch of 20 hopefuls to audition for what is always too few slots. The‘select 5’ did the group audition first while the others watched, and then we waited while the same scene was acted out three more times. After everyone had had their chance the numbers were called out for those that had made it through the first round. I sighed relief as my 306 was called. All of our little group of five had made it through the first round. And we then acted out the same scene, this time in smaller groups.

And, as always, the wait to hear if I have work sets in. But this year I go for auditions while I’m waiting and that makes all the difference. And now that I don't have that job in the background I have no choice but to commit entirely to the jump.

Leading to a twinkling future

In the almost two years that I have started working professionally I have not had it easy. After my honours year (for various singular reasons) I couldn’t get an agent. When emailing and calling yielded no results I signed a yearlong contract with a casting agency in January last year. I figured that it was better than nothing at all, and any experience would be good. A casting agency is very different from an agent, and although they were good to me I can’t earn a living from the occasional briefs they sent me. What I needed was an agent. An in November last year, a friend I had met on set graciously gave me the number of a friend of hers who is also a booking agent for a really good agency in Johannesburg.  

So I phoned him, and sent him my CV. I received a reply via email that they were interested in signing me, but it was problematic as I was still bound in contract to the casting agency. I informed him that I would be able to terminate the contract in January without hassle. He then told me to contact him in January once I had done this, and we would then be able to talk about me joining their agency. Thank heavens for mothers who make her overeager daughters call the agency before I terminated my contract. Because when I did call in the beginning of January voice mail and automated replies informed me that my contact was out of the country and that I should contact him again in February. So when February rolled around I called again. I was assured the head of the agency would look at my CV the following day and a decision would be made. So I called again the next day, and was told that my CV was being looked over at the very moment. I received an email moments later. After I had been following exact instructions I received correspondence that ran somewhat to the tune of:

“Unfortunately after speaking to the head of the agency it was confirmed that the position he wanted to place me in was filled. It’s a pity that we cannot keep open slots for so long.”

About a month after this communication a good friend of mine signed with the same agency.

So I started the whole dry canvassing and emailing thing again looking for an agent. I have many friends at agents, who I’m sure wouldn’t mind speaking to their agents for me, but a part of me at that stage still felt that somebody with my qualifications should get an agent without needing to ask friends for help. A resolve which I regretted after email upon email told me that they weren’t taking on actresses in my ‘category’. And it started taking its toll.

 So I stuck it out, focussing on my Masters. And I did have an incredible year, full of opportunities. But opportunities which I had to get all on my own, especially as I only did one job in January via the casting agent. So when October rolled around, the time at which most agents start bringing in new talent as the universities and colleges start closing I friend I was working with at the time who knew about my ‘agent situation’ and offered to speak to his agent for me. I sent my CV along, but as I learned earlier this year I could not rely on any one agency. So with new photographs I started phoning again. One of the agents I phoned was Leads Artists Agency. I was transferred from the general line to one of the agents in the company. He asked me a few questions, gave me his personal email address and asked if I had any footage, or youtube links to my work. I sent the links, my CV and photo, but had learned better than to expect anything. So when my phone rang the next day I was caught completely off guard.

I was told that they liked my CV, and that he also liked the sound of my voice. We made a date for me to go and see them at their offices. We had what I felt like was a good session. And by the end of the session I was told that if I still wanted to sign with them I needed to let them know within 2 – 3 weeks. And then, if they were still interested in me we could talk.

About two and a half weeks after I spoke to my Mom on the phone on a Thursday saying that I would phone Leads that Monday say that I would like to sign with them. The next morning I received an email from Leads…

And now its website official. Just when I thought the year was nearing its end for me the New Year is twinkling with the lure of possibilities.  

Animated Auditioning

"Never say I don't take you anywhere interesting" has become a favorite phrase of mine, and is fast becoming a joke between my ever patient boyfriend and myself. While shooting I have been to, shall I say interesting, locations: The streets of Joburg at night, I've driven through a ploughed field I was sure would brake the suspension on my car, a home google maps couldn't find and dusty back corners of the state theatre. For an audition, however, the strange location I found myself in in an industrial area of Edenvale was a first.

Via the wonders of social media I heard about an audition to do some pro-bono voice and body work so that a company could pitch for funding for an animation. I figured that it would be really good experience, even if it was for free. I emailed the contact person as to what I should prepare, and the location of the audition.  I was given the address, told just to pitch up and it promptly left my frontal lobe making room for more important matters.

The morning before the audition, I received an email reminder for the audition at 8 the next morning. I was then also told that I needed to prepare a minute monologue, from an animated film. Of course I was working in a theatre the whole day and of course I get told what to prep the day before. So after getting home after 9 I spent an hour googling "female monologue animated film/movie" and I found something I deemed reasonably appropriate. I memorized it...mostly...and checked via the ever faithful google where exactly I would be auditioning in the morning. Google came up with nothing. Nothing in the given area matched the street address I was given. After the third attempt I checked the first email. There had been a spelling mistake in the reminder. So I googled the correct address in an attempt to forage a path for myself for the morning. Streetview did not look promising. At all. But at that hour of the evening I decided that it was a problem I would deal with when I got there.


The next morning while I was showering I said the words of my monologue out loud for the first time, playing with a few ideas, but the practice needed to end with the water as I dried myself into some semblance of put-together-ness. And then I was off to find this location for my audition. A quick google told us that the venue was an institution which trained/prepared models for the camera. This made sense as it was an on-camera audition. 

These are no ordinary tyres...

I always try to be a little early for an audition, but when we arrived at what was the correct number on the door at 5 minutes to eight and the venue was entirely locked up I started becoming doubtful of the legitimacy of this pro-bono project. I decided that if, by a quarter past eight, no one had arrived I would invoice the group for my petrol costs and be on my way. So with time on our hands we explored the industrial area, with sheets of metal and power cables existing the space next to our said venue. And right across the door we found where tractor tyres went to die. An entire graveyard of tractor tyres stacked up dwarfing me (although my freakishly tall sibling would comment that dwarfing me isn’t exactly a challenge).

Just meters from the entrance to the audition venue.

As we headed back to the car two more cars arrived, with apologetic people clambering out and unlocking the venue and carrying equipment. I filled in the paper work as they set up before the first round of auditioning for an animated super-hero. A communal yes and more signed paperwork moved me to the second round. Even though they seemed to like me, and the audition went really well I have not heard back from the team of animators. It comes with the territory. So you post pictures online of tractor trucks that dwarf you, you laugh at the circumstances, you find yourself in, and you prepare yourself for the next audition. Cause maybe this time it will be your day.

Kids and Snails

For me, this year has been the year of the short film, and last Monday I got to be involved in another one. And you know its going to be interesting when the director can only send you a hand drawn map to the location because she cannot find it on google maps. I was thankful for the high suspension on my car as I drove the rocky dirt roads to the stunning home of an artist which was serving as our location for the short film. And a brand new challenge which was awaiting myself, and our young director, Rita-Mari Ludike.

Setting up the shot, and getting the lighting just right.

I was playing the young mother of a five year old child, which meant shooting with a five year old child. Also an integral character of the short film was a snail ('Shelly'). Apparently while shooting the day before our cute five year old actress had no issues with carrying the snail around (well, three different sized versions of the snail). But when I had to work with her she started being difficult, and when asked to held the snail she plainly refused:

“The snail is spitting on my hand”

After which she dropped the unfortunate snail. One of the ‘extra’ snails was brought back to finish the shot so that the dropped snail could heal. For the sake of the camera different sizes of snails were used during the shooting. Which then became a family for our young actress, and a challenge for her mother and our director to remember which snail was the mom, the dad, the child, etc. And don’t you dare get it wrong!

Working with such a young child made me truly appreciate the gravity of parenthood, and that I am still greatly ill-prepared for such responsibilities. One incident specifically brought this into focus. During a break in shooting our five-year-old ran past me to the bathroom. A few seconds later her voice rang across our set:

“I need my real mom”

In other words, not me, her mother in the film.

“I made a big poo and I need my real mom to help me wipe”

As I said. Not ready for such responsibilities.

Rehearsing a scene

Through the two day-shoot Rita learned different ways in which to motivate the five-year-old, and to help her understand shot lists, and different camera angles. Our unfortunate Director of Photography was often ‘blamed’ for “not putting on his camera” in order to coax her into doing another take. A concept she could not understand if she had done it correctly the first time. And shot cards were used so that she could understand when a scene was wrapped. Lines also tended to become freer as if she happened to be in the right mood, you would carry on the shot no matter what, or attempt to coax her into giving the right reaction for the camera.

The short film revolves around three generations of women, and it was fantastic to do a film with only female characters, all brought together by our female writer and director, and supported by amazing male crew members. As my own studies focus on gender it was really special for me to be involved in a female driven story. And as always working with and meeting new and interesting people. Now, we wait for the post-production phase before we can see the final product.

Myself, our director Rita-Mari Ludike and the amazing Rosemare Errenrich Visser who played my mother.

Lights, camera, sound, primp...action!

Above and Behind Stage

A friend of mine and I have kind of a tradition. Since my first year every single November come exams or high water we do technical work for a local ballet studio’s end of year show. Even though its physically quite hard work, lifting large set pieces and carrying props around, the studio's teacher uses us girls to help the dancers  with quick changes, or to tie ballet shoes and such. Unfortunately last year I was working and could not do it, but this year I was awaiting the summons. Just before November started I asked my friend if she had heard from the Theatre Manager about the show, and if they wanted us to come in and work for it again. My friend said if she had not heard anything by the end of the day she would call the next morning.

Myself, and Miss Lian Bekker while packing up after the last show and
a nine hour shift. My partner in crime on these proceedings, and not just
 because were are all dressed in black.

About half an hour after our conversation a message appeared on my phone. We would be starting with a week's work on Monday.
Now every year there is some or other very large prop. A house that needs to be wheeled in midway through a dance, or a throne that weighs about the same amount as I do. And there's always something hanging from the fly bars. Whether it’s just flakes being released from the snow sheet, a chandelier that needs to be dropped or a mere sign.

This year we were spared the heavy lifting but four swings had to be released from the fly facilities which we had to catch as they were dropped down in the wings and then swing them on stage (in an aesthetically pleasing manner), and then later knot two swings together with a rope and have the other stage hands in the roof pull them back up again in literally a matter of seconds. The four swings were hanging in-between the lighting bars, so too much movement from the swings could not only move a light, but hook it and perhaps break it. After about half an hour of closing our eyes and not looking up while the teacher and various other people swung myself and my friend around on the swings, seeing how much movement could happen without the lighting being a problem they realised another solution needed to be found. So the bar with the swings on was holstered in a manner which would prevent it from swinging into the other lights. And after all our effort the swings were used for about a minute on stage before they were pulled up again.

We were also taught the knots to use so that the swings wouldn't come lose half way through a show and decapitate a dancer, or some such nonsense. On my side of the stage, with my friend being in the opposite wing, the rope which I need to tie the swings back up again with hung far behind me, and I needed to release it into the waiting hands of about ten dancers between the ages of 4 and 7. It’s entirely safe, but I need to grab the rope again later and children, being children, find the rope hanging from the heavens exceptionally fascinating.
Our stage manager commented on the dilemma:

"Its’ find having them play with it, they won't hurt themselves, but you know they will have wound it all around them by the time you need it"

"Yip, and there will be a suspended mummy hanging behind me by the time I need to tie the swings up again"

We decided to throw our ropes over one of the lighting fixtures instead of letting them hang behind us.

On one of these occasions when I had to release and retrieve my swings I was surrounded by the wings, unable to see much else of the backstage area or stage itself, awaiting the swinging moment. Afterwards I heard from our stage manager that she couldn’t see me, engulfed by the black curtain of the wing, and was starting a mild panic as the big moment drew nearer and she didn’t know where I was.

“I asked myself at what point do I abandon my com set and start looking for you. Where would I even have started looking for you”

Just as she was pondering this decision she said she saw the slightest sliver of my elbow poking out behind the wing, and she knew I was at my post, awaiting the swings from the heavens.

Some of the set pieces back stage we were moving around

As show business tends to go, there were quite a few quick changes. As the pre-teen girls ran into the wings my friend and I started unzipping the back of their dresses so that they could get the next costume on in a matter of seconds. As they realized there were two pairs of hands zipping and unzipping, and they didn’t need a friend to do it we had girls, high on performance adrenaline and time limit wiggling and jumping around in front of us “Zip my dress! Zip my dress”. 

Only by the last quick change did they realize that the whole process goes a lot faster when they actually stand still, or didn't squirm until the zips on the dresses stripped and Lian and myself had to safety pin the girls into them.