« previous poem || next poem »
Casing the Show
A hubbub of expectation
Rolls round the theatre stalls
The stage is bare
But for two chairs
Blue floods wash down the walls
Low whispers of excitement pass
Between assembled friends
The nervous tum
Of Dad or Mum
With restless laughter blends
Now house front dims: the stage is set
Step actors into lights
This risk they take
Can make or break
New life within their sights
Casting directors scribble in their glossy envelopes
Squinting through preconceptions at the brightness and the hopes
What talent trips across these boards?
They're seeking gold tonight
Who in short span
With careful scan
Will jaundiced souls excite?
Is it there in the anguished bride?
Or abused Juliet?
Or the quiet sand
Of the tortured man
Alone with his cigarette?
With cleverly scripted cameos
Humanity's depths they plumb
We watch their claim
On tomorrow's fame
A promise of tantrums to come
These desperate folk who e'er would walk in greasepaint and limelight
Stand waiting in the wings of life prepared for fight or flight
Anxiously strain to grasp their chance
Distil a life's emotion
Concentrated -
Terminated
A drop in drama's ocean.
The foyer reeks of smoky gloom
While family, friends await
The show is done,
The actors gone
To prosecute their fate
Potential stars are flickering now
Like candles in the wind
But still they vie
For Director's eye
Until the pack is thinned
The empty stage a lonely place; faint echoes fill the hall
Past joys and jeers, triumphs and tears. Listen. You can hear them all.
« previous poem || next poem »
Synopsis
This was inspired by Louise's Showcase, arranged by Laine Management on February 19, 2002. The audience comprised friends, family, and at least eight of the top Northwest casting directors, including those from Granada, the BBC and the Royal Exchange. Fifteen actors and actresses had two chances - one with a monologue, one in a dualogue - to impress these people, who sat directly in front of us clutching glossy folders of the actors' biographies, and scribbled furiously on some of them during the 90-minute performance.
Imagine the tension for the performers. To get the right number of dualogues and monologues there were 23 separate pieces - an average of just less than four minutes apiece. So you're on stage for eight minutes maximum, and this can determine whether you get a role in the next Royal Exchange production, a plum job in Coronation Street, or are condemned to the Back Street Players for the rest of your dramatic life.
Once the show was complete, the actors retired to the green room to mix with the casting directors. This gives the latter the chance to get to know better the actors they were particularly impressed by. This is important for, as a friend in the know explained, they don't want to offer a job to someone they can't get on with off-stage. While this is going on, the rest of the audience wait anxiously in the foyer for news of their talented friends, daughters, nephews. And the stage falls silent in anticipation of good news for another tranche of youngsters for whom it has been the springboard to the life of their dreams.