Improvising

Here's what I love about LA. Took myself off to Aroma for a double espresso and some kind of sticky cake arrangement and got talking to a New Zealand guy and his American wife. He's been here about 20 years, came over to race motorcycles and had quite a bit of success until one too many injuries put him a few milli-seconds off his game. We chatted for a few minutes, I told them my story in a nutshell, and we exchanged cards. This kind of thing happens a lot in LA, more than in Melbourne I find, people are more open here.


It's been a busy week as on Monday I started a two week intensive improvisation course with Upright Citizens Brigade (UCB). It's every weekday except Wednesdays for two weeks, culminating in a graduation performance this Saturday. The class comprises an even split of guys and gals, a diverse and friendly group of people. I'm not even the only new kid in town, although I am the only non-American. The classes are pretty intense - 3 hours with just one 15 minute break - and lots of fun. Part of our course requirement is to see at least 2 shows at the UCB theatre (free to students), which offers the opportunity to see some UCB alumni who have been working together in improv for several years; they're pretty awesome. On Wednesday night a bunch of us went together and saw a show called Facebook. The way the show works is a volunteer from the audience is interviewed on stage while looking at their Facebook page. They sign in and big screens show the audience what is on the computer screen. The interview is efficient, slightly cheeky and elicits a lot of details about the person, their experiences, hobbies and view of the world. The improv troupe - comprising 4 guys - then proceed to use various details from the volunteer's story to kickstart a series of scenes. It is not intended as a replaying or reinterpretation of the volunteer's life, the details are just used as launching pads, but because the audience knows the reference point our enjoyment is enhanced. Very clever stuff.


I've also had a couple of auditions for student films this week. One is a scene study, which is a practical assignment for the film student in casting and directing actors. The scene is taken from a previously produced work, in this case Woody Allen's Hannah and her Sisters. I read for the roles of Hannah and one of her sisters, Lee, who is having an affair with Hannah's husband (something the audience knows at this point in the film, but Hannah doesn't). Great scene, audition went well, I'll know sometime next week if I got it. Cross fingers 'cos it would be fun to do. The other audition was for a USC (University of Southern California, well reputed filmmakers program) graduate student film. This film is an adaptation of a graphic novel called Lost Girls, which is the story of female heroines of children's literature (Alice from Wonderland, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, Wendy from Peter Pan) and reimagines them as adults. There are overt lesbian overtones, very saucy. I auditioned for the role of Wendy, who is now a 30-something married woman who overhears 20-something Dorothy and 60-something Alice talking about their "dream world" childhood. Wendy follows them to a park where she spies Dorothy sunbathing topless while Alice rubs sunscreen on her back. And they are eating peaches. With their fingers. You get the picture, it's all rather nudge-nudge, wink-wink.


My frustration with my Saturday morning class continues. This week was "callbacks", where we performed the scenes assigned to us last week, with lines learned. It's a big class and not everyone was in pairs - in fact, most weren't - so it took a long time to get through everyone. Also, Rick worked quite a lot with some actors, trying to elicit their best performance or at least help them understand where/how they were falling short. By the time I got the chance to strut my stuff we were already running overtime. My scene partner, Andy, hadn't been there last week and I didn't know if he was going to be there this week. He was emailed the script, so he had learned it but we hadn't had a chance to run through it or talk about it at all. This put us at a disadvantage, especially as our characters are a couple whose relationship is faltering and they are arguing about their son's future. I don't want to make excuses, but this was an element which compromised our ability to do our best. The first take felt almost like a cold read, as we hadn't worked together before and were improvising the blocking. Rick gave us a couple of brief notes, purely technical, then bang, take two. A bit better, not great. That was it. After seeing how much time was spent with so many of the other actors, some of which Rick practically gushed over, assuring them of how great he thought they were and they just need to do this or that to slam dunk their audition, Andy and I were shortchanged. I felt like, boy, we really underwhelmed him. He was bored, keen to move on, and apparently doesn't see enough potential in us to spend time on. Even if that's true, this is after all a class, not an actual audition, so we deserved more than to have his back turned on us. Perhaps I'm overreacting, but it was very upsetting and frustrating. As I walked back to my car after class I was ready to cry. I caught up to an older gentleman who had been sitting in on the class. He appears to be someone Rick knows, probably with some connection to the biz - writer? director? casting director? producer? - we haven't been told. Anyway, he said "good work", which I really needed to hear but which opened the floodgates. I thanked him and scrambled into my car, feeling like a hysterical actress. I calmed down enough to drive home, at which point I called a friendly shoulder to cry on. Regi was a champ. He came and picked me up, bought some food and a bottle of wine, and drove us to a lookout point in the Hollywood Hills for a picnic and a pep talk. I felt much better then, and we had a really lovely afternoon. Later on I performed Bridgette's awesome monologue for him, which he loved and which helped restored my faith in myself.

Today I watched the video of Beaten Hearts, for the first time, and was reminded what a great little show that was, how much combined talent made it happen and made it special. My new theory about the Problem with Rick, or Rick's Problem with Me, is that I don't think he knows how to cast me. He doesn't know which box I fit in. I'm not generic. That's ok, neither is Toni Collette. Neither is Steve Carell or Rachel Griffiths, or Judy Davis or Katharine Hepburn for that matter. I've been waiting to be told who/what they see when I walk in the room, but no-one can tell me because they don't know what they're looking at. So it's up to me to show Them, whoever they are, what I can do, what I'm great at.