Rain or Shine or Glamorous Casting.

As an actor the work you do doesn’t always fit the season. I’ve been asked to shiver in South Africa’s January heat and I’ve done bikini castings in the dead of winter. I’ve run around in high heels and large feathery headpieces on sand dunes during extreme winds. I’ve performed dance shows in teeny-tiny costumes at 10 at night in a theatre so cold I could see the vapour of my breath as I danced on stage. It’s part of what we do. And timing is rarely great.

Last Thursday I had all my planning and timing done so as to leave on holiday for my father’s birthday at lunch. As usual just when I thought I had all my Ps and Qs in alphabetical order I got a late afternoon email for a casting in Thursday morning. The dress code: glamorous evening wear. The weather on Thursday morning: cold and pouring with rain.

The rain worked fantastically for my hair, but not so much for anything else. Not to mention that the dress I wanted to wear had already been packed into my suitcase. The first order of business was fishing it out of my suitcase. The second was protecting it from the weather. As I don’t have any rain coats with a hood, I grabbed one of my husband’s bulky jackets he often used for work which would cover my red dress and protect it from getting drops on it as I walked from my car to the venue. I ran into the audition venue heels in hand, flats shoes on and covered in a large black coat with water running off of me. In essence, I was ready to audition.

Post knee-op I only put on my high heeled shoes just before I had to audition. Even with a healthy knee I'm far from happy in heels. I won't mention the models on their high heels who all glide into castings already taller than myself without the help of their shoes. And as fate would have it, I was required to dance on my heels, exactly 5 weeks after my knee operation.

After my audition I walked out on my heels head held high and removed them as soon as I was out of the venue. Bundled up in my rain coat I headed home, this time not caring about the drops that could potentially wet my dress or flatten my hair.

Getting home after an audition is only a shimmy away!

As a dancer I’ve always had an element of grace. Whether it was natural or taught in the hours spent next to the ballet barre its something I realised I’ve relied upon. No matter how fat or ugly or dishevelled I happened to feel, I could sweep into a room with my head held high, gracefully. My knee surgery removed that feeling of late. I’ve been waddling from room to room without my crutches, and using them the moment I left our home. There are stairs and uneven surfaces out there in the world.

On Tuesday something wonderful happened. As I walked out of the front door to go to the physio (the only place I’ve been leaving the house for of late)  I realised that I wasn’t putting weight on the crutch i was using to walk up the incline to the car.

“I’m not using my crutch”

“Then leave it at home”

And as simply as that I was off my crutches.

Just in time for my Thursday theatre audition. Not being allowed to drive was driving me insane, and feeling like a burden to my husband he was taking me everywhere wasn’t helping my general demeanour. On Thursday morning I received a call from my agency:

“A lot of the actors auditioning today have cancelled. The director wants to move your audition up from 15:30 to 12:00”

I had to phone Mauritz to hear if it was possible as we had already planned my audition around his meetings:

“We can make it, but I have a meeting on 13:00”

“The audition slots are all scheduled for 30 minutes so I’ll go in at 12:00, finish at 12:30 and you can be back for your meeting at 13:00”

We arrived a few minutes early for my slot. At 12:05 the director told me he was running late and asked if I could please wait…

“Go. You can pick me up afterwards, I’ll just wait here. Or I’ll take an uber home”

Then I heard my friend’s voice from within the audition venue. Suné also worked at our agency which wasn’t too far from where I lived. She could drop me off at home after my audition before returning to the office.

“Go. I don’t want you to be late for your meeting”

Mauritz was off at 12:20 and I was in to audition. And as the fates would have it, Suné  and I auditioned together. How the audition itself went is a post for another day. The fact that the director recognised me is a bonus. The fact that he said he liked my interpretation and the way I played the character is another bonus. His notes on my voice work were not so much, but all in all it was a satisfactory audition. And Suné and I were off to my house. And in the gate. And by my front door before I realised that my house keys were still in Mauritz’s car.

“Chandré I can’t just leave you here”

“I’ll be fine. I promise. It’s a safe complex and I’ll find a way in”

“Really Chandré. I feel to bad to leave you here”

I also knew that she needed to get back to the office for a busy day.

“We have a new neighbour. For the first time in a year. Her balcony is right next to mine. I can hop over from her balcony to mine and go in through the glass door on the balcony.”

I didn’t mention that it is almost a 2 story drop from the balcony to grounds below despite our front door being on ground floor as the flat is built of up the side of a mountain. The 2 story drop also means that we rarely locked the glass sliding door on the balcony.

“I guess I’ll have to introduce myself to my new neighbour now”

Suné went back to the office.

“Hi I’m Chandré, we haven’t officially met but I live next door. I’ve left my keys in husband’s car and a friend dropped me off. Would you mind if I climbed over your balcony to get into my flat”

The woman looked at me, slightly stumped. Perhaps because the only time she had seen me before was while she was busy moving in and I was on crutches.

“If you're sure. I just can’t look while you are climbing over.”

I climbed over the balcony with my shoes in my handbag, a bum knee and a short black dress hoping that someone in the street below wasn’t looking up. About 30 seconds later I was in my flat thankful that the neighbour whose name I now knew had moved in 5 days earlier. 

Coding and Birthdays!

When I started studying drama my mom said that everything I’ve done in my life somehow lead up to my career…lifestyle… I’ve chosen. Everything from dance to music to drama to art history and even math has somehow helped me with projects and performances and productions. Whether it was analysing light and composition in a shot, doing the math for technical specifications or splitting a restaurant bill (a big joke between drama students and usually don't care much for math!). When my husband, a computer engineer, and I started dating even the programming I did in High school was helpful. I could at least vaguely understand what he was talking about when he spoke about code and hardware. Now I’ve actually started using my limited knowledge of coding in my…lifestyle.

Saying a lot has changed in 10 years when it comes to computers is more than an understatement. And I never worked on websites while I was learning the basics of computer code. Mauritz swooped in, showed me the language we would be working in, did the difficult bits and got me on my way! I coded the basics of my website and now possess the skills to keep it up to date myself too!

On Saturday Mauritz was feeling ill, and I still require crutches to make it down the stairs of our flat. The quiet afternoon gave us the time to get the website live. We launched my fancy-shmancy new website! Just in time for my birthday today! 

http://stagedbybo.co.za/

 

Knees Up!

As a dancer I have often been told to “work into my knees”, “bend the knees”, “watch your knee alignment” all in an effort to “protect your knees”. Phrases I have also told the dancers I’ve worked with and choreographed. As a dancer you know how important protecting your body is because it is your work. As dancers we watch our alignment, use our calf muscles, bend our knees when we land and work through our feet. Whenever we work in front of mirrors we are watching lines and placements, partly for beauty and partly for safety.

In all the years of battering my body has taken as a dancer and an acrobat I didn’t protect my knees enough somewhere;Well at least my right knee.  Or maybe it was inevitable? Which meant that despite performing and training in a knee guard for the last two years, somewhere between the kilometers I’ve run and the careful stair climbing my knee eventually started becoming very painful. As in I can’t walk around painful. My husband carrying me up the stairs painful.

A trip to a knee surgeon and an MRI scan confirmed that the damage to my cartilage two years ago had worsened. My meniscus, which is essentially the shock absorber in your knee, had also torn and would need to be repaired. Two years ago knee surgery scared the hell out of me. Now…I just wanted to be able to climb the stairs again. I was relieved when I was booked for surgery the week we got back from Europe. I was very optimistic, perhaps because my brother had had a similar surgery and had walked out of the hospital. If all went well I would still be able to make my 1 March musical audition three weeks later.

As I climbed onto the table the surgeon told the team that I was a dancer and they had to get me back on stage.

Before I could be discharged the surgeon came to check on my dressings and to give me feedback on the operation. My knee had been in a far worse condition than they had originally thought. He mercifully only told me about the cyst they had discovered and removed while poking around my knee once they had confirmed that it was benign. It also meant that my recovery would take between six and eight weeks.

“Luckily you’re at home. One of the times it helps to be a freelancer”, the physio said after my first session, referring to the fact that I didn’t need to put extra strain on my leg. I had time to elevate my knee and do my exercises.

My great “luckily” is the fact that I have an amazing husband who can keep me fed with a roof over my head while I spend six to eight weeks recovering unable to work. Not all actors are that lucky. The “luckily” is that I can take the time to allow my knee to recover properly before it has to start earning a living again. Tomorrow is the big '1 March' audition and I’m about as graceful as a T-Rex on the short stretches. I’m able to walk across a safe, level, non-slippery floor. I’m out for tomorrow’s audition, but I’ll be knee-guard free for the next one... for the first time in a long time.


Lastly, a big and public thank you to Melandi Kloppers for staying with me the whole day of my surgery, keeping me company and holding my hand. 

Knowing Things Are Possible

I’m not one for very religious posts. I feel that my convictions are my own, and in the sensationalized media of our times the content that I put out into the universe should bring people together on common grounds (which usually means laughing at me), not divide them further or spark debate. There's enough of that already. That being said, there will be a spiritual tone to my post this morning.

If you’ve followed me professional auditioning career the last year you will realise it wasn’t the best year for my career. Personally I’ve had a fantastic year and I’ve been very happy. My Masters Dissertation was submitted toward the end of the year and that saga still continues but I haven't had all that much acting work to do. The paid work I would like to do was on the light side last year. I’m blessed that I have great support systems. I’m blessed that I’m in the position that not earning a lot of money doesn’t mean that I don’t eat or pay my rent. But it doesn’t feel that great.

Then a glimmer of hope at the end of the year. A physical theatre audition that went really well and the director was willing to work around my scheduling. A call back for a big American advert. After suspending my life for three days to be ready for the call back I was cancelled via SMS the evening before the time as they decided to move in a different direction. Then I received bad news about my dissertation. Then in January I received an email from my agent “releasing” me from the physical theatre show. The last cherry on the cake was receiving an email for an audition and receiving another five minutes later stating that they didn’t want a white actress. My January had not started well. And this was only the first week of the year.

Still, all of this only hit me when I spoke to an actor friend on Saturday and he asked me what projects I had going for the year. Despite all the ideas in my head, the little plans I have, the things I want to do and projects I want to rekindle this year I was winded. There wasn’t much I felt capable of doing in that moment. I remembered saying to my mom at one point last year: “I feel like all I am right now is a housewife, and I’m not even particularly good at that”.

This morning I scrolled through my Instagram. I don’t follow anything specifically or particularly religious, but I have a lot of religious friends who post things from time to time. Between holiday photos, coffee pics and new beginnings I saw this verse on the account of a model I had worked with for 2 weeks some time ago:

It was the reminder that I needed. I entered this business on faith. Faith that God would take care of me, and provide me with what I needed. Faith that the choice to be an actress was more His choice than mine (I was planning on becoming a vet, not a performer). It was the reminder that no matter the punches I’m still here and there is a bigger plan for my life. Faith that there is still a lot I'm going to do. And that I can do it.

Some you win... some could have gone better.

It’s been a busy week. As things typically go I have no castings for a few weeks, and then everything happens all at once. Which meant that on Friday I had 2 auditions. Not 1 minute castings, but auditions with material that I needed to prepare. Music and monologues. It also meant that I got sick on Wednesday. On Thursday I had no voice, which made prepping for the vocal audition on Friday rather difficult.

Well, the first email said my audition would be a vocal audition that required me to prepare one song of my own choice. I received a later email with a time change for the audition on it while I was in a meeting. I checked the email on my phone and replied. I didn’t see that attachments. Which meant that when I arrived at my audition, still sick but well prepared with my song, I wasn’t entirely prepared. I saw the other girls practicing lines and a song.

Thankfully one of the girls lent me her sheet music and lines, and the auditions ran late. Which meant that as each girl before me auditioned I stood by the door and listened to the accompaniment learning the song. By the time I entered for my audition I knew everything I needed to know. But my nerves weren’t in check, and I didn't have the voice I needed despite the cold and flu medicine I had been using. 

They liked what I did with the character, and strangely the song I had prepared in the 30 minutes before my audition went better than my own song. But I didn’t have time to dwell. I had a physical theatre audition, and that is my forte.

The GPS took me straight from audition venue 1 to The Market Laboratory. I had never been there before, so I was thankful when I found the venue quickly and parking wasn't a problem. I had prepared the lengthy monologue and I got through it. And when they asked me to perform the piece differently I did.  I enjoyed it.

I still have a week to wait before I hear if I have the role. And as with all my auditions, I don’t expect anything. But walking out of an audition that went well means a lot. One where I had fun, and got to perform, albeit for 2 people who are judging me. Even if I don’t get the part I had fun.

Launching Lost In Chance

I am not famous. Not yet anyway. And I didn't go into acting to get famous. If you don’t believe me, check my twitter and Instagram following. Or check them out anyway: My twitter and instagram handles are both @ChandreBo 

I do, however, have friends that are doing really cool things. And one of my friends wrote a book.

Lize Jacobs and myself at the launch of her book Lost In Chance at Skoobs.

I met Lize Jacobs (click to link to her website) about three years ago when I auditioned for one of the short films she and her brother Henco J were making. I got to know her a bit better when I actually got to be in one of the short films a while later. During this time I’d heard that she had written a book. I'd heard how she’d phoned her friends at weird times asking advice on what clothes a character might wear. Then I heard that the editing and rewriting process would take some time. Later I heard that she was researching the routes she could take to publish her book. And that her book was about Paris.

Shortly after I got back from Paris earlier this year Lize asked if I would read her book for her. Another pair of eyes looking for any mistakes, or suggestions and to write a blurb for her book. I finally used three years of English literature studies practically as I read through the book. 

“Please give me your honest thoughts. Don’t hold back”

I am a rather straightforward person, and I believe that the truth might hurt now, but helps in the long run. Thankfully I was spared a rather awkward email as I really enjoyed the book. And then I was asked to attend the book launch, and to read an excerpt of her book at the book launch.

In the paperback. My blurb for Lost In Chance.

 Last week my husband and I attended the launch of Lost In Chance. A Paris-themed evening at Skoobs: Theater of Books in Monte Casino. And I did a reading of the book, as a ‘celebrity’. There were other people there who are actually well-known, and a beauty queen, but I won't go into that. I'll just have my moment.

As I joke about my status in the South African performance industry, a big part of what made the book launch so wonderful were all the people who got involved in the launch of the book. The sponsorship programs, and the mobile library all made possible by the people who attended the launch on Wednesday evening.

If you are interested in buying Lost In Chance, Click Here or take wonder to Skoobs book shop and pick up a paperback.

Playing Mommy Dearest

I’m not what you would call “maternal”.  Please don’t ask me to hold your baby, because I don’t really know how. In fact, the last time a child was put in my hands (at church no less) I was so startled that I stood awkwardly holding the child at arm's length. It was immediately removed from me as a women proclaimed:

“You need to practice with a doll first”.

As a recently married women my husband and I often get asked when we’re planning on a starting a family.

Not any time soon.

Which made last week particularly interesting. Upon arriving at a casting I was told to “pair up” with a seven year old girl. The casting director spoke to the group at large:

“Ladies, talk to your new daughter. Let them get comfortable with you so that you both give a good performance”. 

The role was for the mother of the little girl. Fortunately the kid I got paired up with was extremely chatty. Upon introducing herself to me she looked me square in the eye and asked quite seriously, as if I knew him personally:

“Do you know what’s happening with Justin Bieber?”

I professed that although I didn’t know him personally I had heard some of his new music.

“No” She was insistent that he was up to no good and was definitely not making new music. This was not up for debate.

“I hear that he’s either taking drugs or he’s in Mexico”

I wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to all of this. Fortunately I didn't need to.

"Do you see that girl there" she asked pointing across the room.

"She's in my school. Last week she had a sugar rush and went sort of loopy. Then she drank a whole one of those" she changed from pointing to the girl to a five liter water bottle. The conversation then changed to another topic. My contribution to the conversation wasn't much more than iterations of "Really", "Is that so" or "Why is that?"

My first fully formed sentence when I got home to my husband?

“I have no idea how to talk to children.”

My words were barely out before I received another email from my agent. I had a casting the very next morning. To play a pregnant woman.

That evening we had friends over. As I unlocked the front door to our home a weird scream traveled through the air of our complex. Not being aware of any kids close to us I was rather confused about the source of the sound.

“Was that a cat?”

“No Chandré. That was a baby. You are CLEARLY ready for motherhood.”

My lips are sealed.

I have been quite for a while, for three reasons: I’ve been working hard on academics and house hunting, it has been really quiet industry-wise of late and lastly, the contract I was working I’m not allowed to talk about. Or post about on social media.

When I did a two week shoot for a coke advert 2 years ago the first thing I did after collecting my luggage at the airport (well, I went to the wrong carousel and then had to find it by the baggage handlers) was sign a non-disclosure agreement. Threatening to be prosecuted by the State of Oregon if I posted (or my family and friends posted) anything about the shoot on any form of social media. And they were monitoring us. One of the stuntmen got into a lot of trouble when putting a photo on facebook. I had to sign a non-disclosure again two days into the shoot. Just in case. I’m not sure in case of what, but it had to be done. Coke was terrified Pepsi would catch wind of what was going on. And on my second shoot I wasn’t going to be arguing with anyone. What was different about that shoot to the work I’m doing now is that I could post about the advert once it had aired.

I’ve worked two contracts this year I can’t post about. It’s sort of like being a slightly less glamorous Disney princess. Maintaining the illusion is key. So no photos of yourself in half of your costume, no backstage pics. And if someone manages to photograph you mid costume change you got into trouble. During rehearsals a friend took a photo of me doing a handstand which I sent to my husband. Our director thought I had posted it online:

“My husband had such a good laugh at that photo of me”

“Did you post it on facebook?” He had gone suddenly pale as he hadn’t specifically briefed me on the company’s protocols.

“It’s not my first gig. I know how this works. Nothing online.”

His relief was palpable.

It would be really great to post about all the weird things and conversations we have about the show. About the strange service entrances we use for shows, the unlighted paths we’ve had to walk at night and sneezing in our costumes before performing. What I can talk about more is the amazing people I get to work with. Cast mates and directors. My wrangler who keeps my costume safe and looks after me when I’m in character and who has literally saved my life. She has kept me from falling down stairs and protected me from over-zealous kids and parents.

As a performer there are things I would love to be able to share. And there are things I just can’t. The performance is more important. As performers we have to believe in the illusion we are creating for people we are entertaining. If we can’t believe in that, we don’t belong on that stage.