Hooded and Miked for a Musical?

Klaus-Louis Jansen van Vuuren, Chandré Bo, Gerrit Scheeprs and Aliza Graham

This past week Music! – The Musical? a new musical written by myself and my friend Mr Gerrit Scheepers debuted at the Krekvars Student Arts Festival. When it comes to staging, musicals contain a whole new set of challenges. Technical challenges I rarely have to deal with when directing and staging straight drama or dance and physical theatre productions. Such as head microphones. With receivers. Head microphones we pay for per production and technical rehearsal and are temperamental at best. For both our technical rehearsals Aliza Graham’s head mic decided to stop working at the beginning of the run. And with a cast of four where three of us never leave the stage there is no opportunity to switch microphones, or to fix anything once we've started the run. Luckily for us she does have a strong voice, and she could still be heard without her mic, but as we started the tech run, sans her microphone, I told her not to push her voice. Save it for the actual show.

Klaus getting Aliza's mic pack in her dress while I'm tuning the guitar before our technical rehearsal

I know no premier runs 100% smoothly. There are always things that need to be fixed after the first run. Something unforeseen. But I do try to plan. 

For marketing the day of our first show there was an opportunity to perform a 5 minute excerpt of the shows. Also for marketing purposes I had bought 4 hoodies to be printed with the show’s name the Friday before. My planning was sound. We had a rehearsal the morning from 8 to 12 to work in the notes a friend had given from our technical run the weekend before. At 1 I was to fetch the hoodies giving me enough time to go home, shower and get ready to perform the excerpt at 3 and then be ready to move into the theatre at 4:30 to perform at 6. I should have known that something wouldn't go as planned.

During rehearsals we realized that 1: only Gerrit and I would be able to perform the excerpt; and 2 there would also be no place and cabling for a keyboard, so it was either up to the guitar. The songs played with the guitar were all sung by Aliza. The song on the ukulele sung by the entire cast was our only option, so Gerrit and I had to pull it off. The text leading into the song played by the ukulele was performed by Gerrit and Aliza. I wrote the script, so I had an idea of the words. We went through the text and song quickly twice before I was off for the hoodies.

I arrived at the shop just after one to pick up the hoodies. The secretary in the office was not the same lady who had taken my order. I should have known. She went round the back for order and returned empty handed. She made a phone call to her colleague who had taken my order and was now on leave. As she flipped through the order book I saw my sheet.

“Chandré” and “Music! – The Musical?” were written along with the quote and information pertaining to the sizes of the lettering.

I showed it to her. She retreated into the workspace and returned without the hoodies:

“I think your order got lost between the orders”

This made no sense to me “Are these your hoodies?”

She showed me the large plastic bag with the 4 black hoodies inside and the word “MUSIC” written on the back with a black marker.

“Those are my hoodies” I said redundantly.

“When do you need them by?”

I wanted to say NOW

“At the very latest I need them by 2:30” it was 1:30 already. I still had to go home and shower and to my makeup, which as I have written before is challenging.

“It’ll be done by 2:30. Did you email my colleague the image you want on the shirts”

“I gave it to her on a flash drive. She saved the image.”

“Her computer is hanging.”

Excruciating minutes later.

“Oh, here is your image, but it doesn’t want to open. Can you email it to me instead?”

I raced home with her business card in my hand. I fired up my laptop and sent the image to her. I jumped into the shower. As I got dressed I saw the email on my phone with a slightly altered image:

“Would this work for you”

I replied that it would and I wondered how far the printing was by then. I dried myself, painted on a face fit for the stage and ran out of my flat at top speed with sopping wet hair. At 2:35 I walked into their offices again.

“I'll go check if your shirts are ready”

They weren’t. I could feel my soul start to whither. Especially when the technician walked around to the reception area where I was standing. He asked me some or other technical question while holding up a very-much unprinted hoodie. I had no idea what he was asking:

“I need to leave now…with the hoodies”

“Don’t worry Mam, it will only take 10 minutes”

“I have to leave in 5 minutes. I need to perform with these hoodies at 3”

The secretary answered the question and sent him on his way. Then looked at me in a very awkward silence.

“Well, can I pay so long so that I can leave as soon as he is finished?”

“Yes, we can do that”

I wanted to bang my head on her desk. Or perhaps hers.

At quarter to 3 I flew out of their offices with four printed hoodies, and receipt, for which I was offered no discount. And at 3 Gerrit and I were on stage in our hoodies, performing an excerpt which was not our own for marketing purposes. At 10 past 5 Aliza flew into the theatre, after being stuck in traffic with no makeup on. We taped her into her mic and checked her for sound, she did her makeup at top speed and was ready to go on stage as the show started. Her microphone worked.

For two technical rehearsals the rest of our cast had had no microphone problems. The housing station for the head mic taped to my and neck stayed in put on the band of my jeans. During our first show, the mic pack freed itself from the band of my jeans while on stage, taking some of my hair with it as the tape ripped from my neck on its decent. But by some or other miracle it still worked. 

Making... a Musical?

These past few weeks has seen the creation of a new musical…Music! – The Musical? A (hopefully) comedic look at the lives of performing artists, specifically four members of a band who are desperate to make it, or at least pay their rent.

A very good friend of mine from school, Mr Gerrit Scheepers, who is currently busy with Masters degree in music and I sat down over many cups of tea and pages of scribbled pieces of paper to create our new musical. Two years ago we wrote the music for Suikerbossie, and Afrikaans musical made in collaboration with my friend Miss Jesto Marx. At some point much earlier this year we decided to write another musical called Music and that it would be about musicians and performing artists. The opening of entries for the Krêkvars Student Arts Festival provided both the motivation and timeline to force the two of us to get the musical done. So we started writing. A meeting or two later we narrowed down a list of friends who had good voices for singing and acting experience and a few messages and confirmations later we had a cast. Gerrit, the recently married Mrs Aliza Graham, Mr Klaus-Louis Jansen van Vuuren and myself.

 Gerrit and I have learned in the past that when the music doesn’t flow you just can't make it. And sometimes creating new music calls for watching videos on youtube, and definitely calls for cup after cup of tea and coffee and definitely a glass of wine here and there. And when it just doesn’t want to work don’t force it. On the previous musical we had written together for we had sat for about 4 hours one evening really trying. We researched themes, looked up meanings of words and battled to come up with original lyrics or inspiring melodies. Every word I wrote that evening just felt clichéd. Eventually we decided to just get takeaways and watch a movie instead of spending the night working. Two days later when we got together to work on the same song we wrote the whole thing in less than half an hour. Inspiration and creativity is not something that you can hold to a schedule, but unfortunately needs to be held to a deadline.

As per usual, the writing of the music was the easy part. But just as Jesto and I had mulled over the same point in the past we found ourselves once again without a climax. We knew the themes we wanted to explore, we had a general story line, but we didn’t have a climax and ending. And the fact the Klaus would not be able to rehearse for a week and a half before our technical rehearsals made the writing of the script even trickier.  And so commenced the familiar game of “what if….” which tends to work as follows:

The creators of the script which was Jesto and Myself in the past, and in this instance our entire cast are in the rehearsal space. I sit with poised pen and paper and affirm our need for a climax. Then it starts….

“What if someone dies”

“What if the main character ….”

“What if a sub-character…”

“What if we bring in an outside element”

After and hour of this I usually feel like exploding whenever I hear the words "what if?" 

Aliza’s idea of a phone call had already been rolling around in my head a little before she mentioned it. I had thought by then that an outside element would be necessary to bring an emotional climax to the show. The Deus ex Machina as we had learned in a first year theory class about classical Greek theatre. From the circumstances of the play we couldn't go anyway, and nothing could be resolved with an outside force. It took literally a full day before my penny dropped. At was only at our next rehearsal, while awaiting my next cup of tea, that the idea came to me for the climax of the show.

From the left, Mrs Aliza Graham, Mr Klaus-Lous Jansen van Vuuren, Gerrit Scheeprs,
myself, Chandré Bo

We are very proud to be presenting Music! – The Musical? at the Krêkvars Student Arts Festival held at the University of Pretoria. SO…if you happen to be in the area please come in and support our hard work. And click right here to connect to our facebook event for the show!

A touch of Thai

This past Friday I was invited to attend a dance workshop hosted by the Embassy of Thailand at the university. A friend of mine, who still isn’t sure how she ended up becoming the university’s liaison for the event, messaged me and asked if I would like to attend. Previous workshops and screenings held by different embassies at the university have always been informative in the past so decided to join. In spite of being a master’s student, and knowing that very few of the postgraduate students tend to attend to these workshops.

The previous dance workshop I attended was hosted by the Australian Embassy. I had arrived only 2 or 3 three minutes before the workshop’s designated time, but the warm ups had already started.  So I arrived 20minutes early for this workshop, determined not to be in the same position as last time. When I walked into the rehearsal space I was not surprised to see a gaggle of first year drama students. Now, as a 4th year postgraduate student the undergraduate students don’t know me and I don’t know them. And in the drama department this is not taken lightly. In the small department, which I am still slightly part of but mostly in name more than anything else, all the undergraduate and honours students know each other’s names and faces. And they are fiercely territorial about the lawns, which double up as our rehearsal spaces, around the drama department. In fact, they tend to defend these lawns from students of the hard sciences, such as engineers, who tend not to understand why they are rolling around on the grass making odd sounds. They don’t understand that it is part of our studies and we take our rolling around and weird noises rather seriously.

So when I walked into the rehearsal space some of the unfamiliar undergraduates got up awkwardly, expecting the unfamiliar face to be part of the workshop. When I threw my bags in a corner and sat down myself they awkwardly retreated to their early positions, mindful of the perceived predator in their midst.

On the hour, when the workshop was supposed to start I messaged the unwitting liaison, and asked if I had they right date, time and venue. I was assured that all was true, but was informed that the dance troupe from the embassy was late. Very late. Ten minutes later I received a pleading message, asking me to inform the students that the workshop would still be happening and the dance troupe was on their way. We all just had to sit tight a little while longer
.

“Hi Guys. Tarryn says the people from the Thai embassy are coming, they are just late. So please don’t leave”

The undergrads all knew who Tarryn was, and my knowledge of her, and message via her only served to add to the confusion of my origin. I went and sat outside in the sun again to wait the arrival of the dance troupe.

A Thai dancer, Tarryn-Tanille Prinsloo and myself after the workshop.

More than half an hour after the workshop had been scheduled to start the dance troupe, with all the females in heels, walked into the rehearsal space. Tarryn walked in showing a calm exterior, but when she spoke to me she revealed a slightly frazzled exterior.

“Chandré, I’m actually an introvert. And now I’ve had to small talk for the last hour and a half”

“Who with?”

“The Ambassador”

A photographer, Tarryn-Tanille Prinsloo and the translater from the embassy. All smiles and extrovert personality Tarryn says she saved her in her morning of never-ending small talk.

It's all in the Signs

I have no sense of direction. And many large theatres have large and intricate backstage areas…which are tricky to navigate. Especially if I’m nervous before an audition. More often than not when auditioning your name gets sent to the theatre before the time, so when you arrive at the theatre you names gets ticked off a list, and a member of the theatre staff takes you to the audition venue. And if I’m a touch nervous before said audition I don’t focus on where I’m going, and navigating my way back usually involves multiple wrong turns, and wringing my memory for a clue. Or waiting for a friend to finish their audition and hoping that they know their way about better than I do.

I must say, my audition last Monday was easier to navigate. I was just guided through the first door which leads to the general backstage area from the foyer and was almost expecting someone to walk with me when I saw the first sign…

What followed felt almost like a treasure hunt as I walked from arrowed sign to arrowed sign finding my way to the audition venue. Including the beauty next to the elevator which told me which floor to go to. I was particularly thankful as I had never wondered into this part of the theatre before, and would probably never have found the place if it hadn’t been for the multiple signs. And as per usual, the dancing audition did not fail to amuse me. 

Next to the elevator! Essential to know which
floor you are going too!

Just in case you think you should go up the stairs

It is only at a dancing audition for musical theatre that you’re the odd one out if you aren’t wearing sequenced or leather hot pants and fish-net stockings. With this specific audition we had been pre-selected on our photos and CVs before being notified that we were allowed to audition. It was interesting for me, as I usually know a few of the others at any given audition. Which is why it is good practice never to gossip at an audition because someone will know that person you're talking about. But this time I didn’t know anyone else. At all. Not even vaguely familiar face from somewhere. So with no one about of some authority, and none of the obligatory forms to fill in anywhere to be found I created my own spot on the floor and started warming up gently. No one appeared to be any the wiser as to what was coming, and usually the dancing round is first with musical theatre auditions, so most of the others were also warming up.

While in my corner I heard, what I gathered to be, the reunion of two of the other hopefuls after a lengthy period:

“What are you doing these days?”

A question often asked at these opportunities, in order to find out if someone had succumbed to taking a teaching or office job in order to pay for their habit of auditioning and sporadic jobs in the line of work they had actually trained for. Her reply was curt:

“Crying”

He was shocked. I stifled a laugh while pretending not to hear a conversation happening less than a meter away from me. And what followed was a soap-opera-tell-all tale of her life for the last few months. Including, I kid you not, a cheating boyfriend and a reality show about their lives, airing post-break up. She also claimed that this was one of her first auditions in about three years, as she hadn't needed to audition while dating said boyfriend. Work was offered to her. And so, in the 45 minutes we waited to start the audition I heard the tale of her life post-breakup as she related it to her friend. I didn't really have anywhere else to move to in the semi-cramped quarters during this exchange. And it did feel like a reality TV show.

Thankfully I was able to follow the myriad of signs back to the theatre’s foyer!

Spot the three signs leading me to the audition venue

Engaged: The role of a liftetime

It all started with a call from my agent about a Dove advert. He told me I had been chosen from my photo to go to the casting. He told me it was very important, and that I looked a lot like the girl in the reference photo.

“Have you received the email yet?”

I hadn’t

“I’ll just send it to you myself quickly. The venue where they’re holding the auditions doesn’t have place for you to change, so make sure you’re ready for the audition when you arrive. And if its cold where something chic over your dress”

It was important for the casting that I wear a dress. The email had reference pictures as so the type of dress they required me to wear.

The fact that the audition was on a public holiday didn’t faze me either as there is no ‘usual’ in this industry, and no days are held sacred. The morning of the big audition my boyfriend went off to Midrand to work on a group assignment for his studies. He messaged me about mid-morning saying that he would finish early enough to go to the audition with me. Then about half an hour before I planned on leaving he let me know that one of their group members was still working on his half the project, and he had to wait in order to put everything together. He would meet me after the audition, and we would go to watch a film. So I headed off on my own and followed the GPS to the location for my audition.

A half an hour drive to a venue I didn’t know, and somewhat nervous due to how serious my agent had been about the audition I arrived in the correct street, and a large poster with an arrow claiming “Dove Audition Parking” made it easier for me to find the street entrance. I noticed when I entered the parking area that the place was rather lush, and different to the usual stark audition venues, but I was more concerned with the job at hand, and being on time…

“Are you here for the Dove audition?”

I said I was there for my 3 pm call

“You’re really late. They started at 2”

I had double checked the time of the email that morning, so I knew I hadn’t gotten it wrong.

“I’m really sorry, but the email I received from my agent said very specifically that I have to be here at 3”

“Well then in that case your agent is going to be in trouble. But don’t worry about it. Most of the other girls have left already, but the casting director is still here and they haven’t packed up yet so you’re still ok”

My stomach dropped a little.

“I’ll smooth things over with the director. Just follow me I’ll take you to them”

I didn’t notice much other than the stairs we were climbing as we were walking. I was double checking the email in my mind, and reassuring myself that this wasn’t my fault. A mistake had been made, but sure it would all be ok.

“Are you still alright with the stairs? Are your shoes ok? I have no idea why they decided to shoot right at the top of the property”

“Thankfully I’m not wearing heels.”

I suddenly realised that we had climbed a rather large number of steps, and then the path way even out as he directed me to walk in front of him. I think I noticed the rose petals at my feet before I saw my boyfriend looking at me. My first thought was “I’m meeting him afterwards, why is he already here” followed by “How is he up here before I am”

I then really noticed the path of petals lined by flowers, before realizing that my guide, Ken, had quietly disappeared. I looked up again and saw my boyfriend’s face. And then only did it dawn on me…

When he repeated his words later to me that evening I then started remembering what he had said. Although I couldn't remember what he said in that moment, I do know that everything he said to me in that moment touched me as he bent down on one knee and asked me to marry him in a beautiful garden overlooking Johannesburg. I was fighting back tears of elation and joy and surprise and love as I heard the emotion in his voice, before replying that I would.

I didn’t even notice the ring that he put on my shaking hand because in that moment, it wasn’t important.

Once he was back on his feet, and untangled from my arms he asked

“What do you think about the ring?” 

“I haven’t really looked at yet…”

And only then did he draw my attention to the go pro camera behind him, my cousin climbing out of the bushes to my right and his brother, getting out of the trees on my left both with cameras in tow. The four of us overlooked the beautiful Shepstone Gardens as we drank champagne and my cousin took amazing photos.

Afterward, as the four of us sat and I was informed of all that had happened while I assumed everyone was working. I was then also informed how my agent had grilled my, now fiancé, to make sure that he was who he said he was, and not someone trying to kill/kidnap me. He had emailed him the numbers for human resources at his work, sent invoices for my ring and the booking of Shepstone Gardens. And then I remembered my agent calling me and claiming that he needed to update my contract with next of kin details. He needed a family member and non-family member. So when I gave him my boyfriend’s details he was satisfied that he was indeed who he said he was!

I phoned my parents to tell them the news and my mom asked:

“Did you get the part?”

Secretary - 'Pretty Girl'

I can happily say I’ve been a busy girl this year. From the beginning of the year I’ve been doing a minimum of two auditions per week. So when I suddenly had two weeks without an email or beep on my cell from my agent I started to get worried. But having a three chapter deadline I didn’t have that much time to fret about my diminishing audition rate. Then out of the blue on the Monday of my Friday deadline I received an email, after two weeks of silence, informing me about an audition. The audition, scheduled for Wednesday, wasn’t something I wanted to do, even though I was getting desperate. My resolve held though, and a little while later I received another email, informing me about what I call a ‘pretty girl’ audition.  These are generally the briefs where you just pitch up looking your best, and then find yourself in tow with a host of models all already taller than myself, with incredibly tight jeans, high heels (as if they needed them), extensions on their lashes and in their hear and of late, the mandatory crop top. They all seem to know each other and call each other variations of ‘doll’ or ‘babe’ and everyone else they call ‘sweetie’. I go none the less because as I’ve mentioned before, you just never know what the director wants.

For this specific ‘pretty girl’ audition I had to dress like I was going to a smart nightclub. The Tuesday before my Wednesday audition I received a third notification for an audition the next day. This audition was for a blonde secretary. The audition brief shows in a women in muted colours. However, according to the audition brief I received only the male characters needed to audition, and the female characters would be selected from their photos. I informed my agent that he could happily send my photo, but from what I read I didn’t have to go in. I had received the brief late in the afternoon so I didn’t think that much of it after I replied.

As per usual when I have an audition in Johannesburg I left early in the morning with my boyfriend for the hour commute. And as per usual, my audition outfit and makeup were in a bag while I worked on my studies on an empty desk in his office in a pair of jeans and grey shirt. Luckily colours that work well for camera. As my agent called me at 9:30 to confirm that he had emailed the casting director and that the audition brief wasn’t accurate. The casting director wanted to see me for the secretary audition. I decided that what I happened to be wearing had to be good enough. I did my makeup and charged off to get to the audition as close to 10:00 as possible. I then charged off to the ‘pretty girl’ audition. Due to the lack of bathrooms at audition venue 1, I thankfully knew that there was a bathroom and mirror at audition venue 2. I drove there, filled in my form, got my number and headed for the bathroom. I slipped into my short dress, darkened my eye makeup and slapped on some red lipstick. And for once, pulled on a pair of heels. I was ready for my ‘pretty girl’ audition.

I think the security guard at my boyfriend’s work was most surprised when I returned after my transformation. So after two weeks of silence I had three audition briefs for one day.

“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.