Updated on June 19, 2003

An Alternate Reality

Even though I was aware it had been awhile since I updated Life in Maine, when I looked at the site recently, I couldn't believe that it had been over three months. Pretty poor, when you consider that I "advertise" that the site is updated "every two weeks or so." Alas, I am not dead, or sick, or among the missing. I was, to say the least, busy. Busy experiencing "Life in Connecticut" without setting foot in the state. Let me explain.

A few days after writing the last installment of Life in Maine, and still caught in the grips of the seemingly endless winter, I was searching for relief from the cabin fever that threatened to knock my mental stability even more off kilter than it normally is. That "relief" came in the form of a small blurb in the local newspaper announcing that auditions for the play "Dinner with Friends" would be taking place that Saturday. The script called for 2 males and 2 females, in their 30s or 40s, and the announcement encouraged "newcomers to audition."

Well, way back when, before the "real world" came into view, I had taken a few acting classes in high school, really enjoyed them, and managed to get "A"s in the classes. I even took a summer theater workshop back then, but that's as far as things went, acting-wise. So, deep down, I was harboring this secret desire to see if the acting bug was fully squashed, or was merely lying in wait - not unlike the 17-year locust. Up to now, however, I never had the courage to set foot in an audition.

And, truth be told, I hadn't really built up much courage this time, either. If it weren't for the fact that I fit the description of the male characters in the script, and that we don't have cable and I was getting real tired of the bad television that we get on the three stations that come in, I wouldn't have given the audition announcement a second glance. That Saturday morning, as Denise was about to leave the house to attend an event she was involved with, I mentioned that I might not be around when she came home because I might go to an audition. She gave me a very strange look, shrugged her shoulders, and mumbled something like "whatever." At 10 a.m., the audition time, approached, I still hadn't made up my mind. Finally, I decided I'd head into town, drive past the theater, and if things didn't look too intimidating, I'd pop in and audition. I drove past the theater once, turned around, and decided "what the hell, what do I have to lose?" and parked the car.

In retrospect, what I did was entirely stupid. Although it is only community theater and the actors are not paid, The Belfast Maskers, as the theater troupe is known, have a solid tradition of putting on very good productions. Everyone involved, from the actors, to the director, to the lighting and sound people, and the stagehands, take their roles very seriously and many have an impressive resume of experience backing them up. And here I was, filling out the application for the audition, struggling to put anything in the "previous theater experience" section. Sheepishly, in an attempt to not leave it blank, I admitted to a bit part in a pretty terrible high school play. Looking around, it was clear that the others had done their homework for this audition. Many of them had scripts which they had studied, and I overheard conversations in which people admitted to watching the movie (HBO had put out a movie version a couple of years earlier) several times.

So here I was, entirely unprepared, yet surprisingly at ease. I had convinced myself that if I was going to do this, I was going to have fun doing it. I wasn't getting paid - at the very least it offered me a diversion during a gloomy March morning - so I might as well just relax and soak in the atmosphere.

That, I think, was a huge advantage. Sitting around the stage as the auditions began, it was apparent that the other actors were not nearly as calm. There were eight women auditioning for the two female roles, and five men auditioning for the two male roles. It turns out I knew the director because she was the real estate agent who listed my home several years ago, but that did not provide an advantage in that she knew all of the other people auditioning as well.

And so the auditions began. We were each given scripts and randomly called up to read portions. When my turn came, a little bit of nervousness started settling in, but as I started to read, it quickly dissipated. I have a much easier time, it seems, standing up in front of people and speaking when the words are given to me than when I have to make them up.

And so it went for the next two hours. We read for the different parts, and we read with different combinations of actors. At one point, Tobin, the director, had all of the males stand on stage at once and simultaneously read the same monologue. I'm not sure what the point of that was, but I do know that it is difficult to concentrate on what you are reading when you have four people standing next to you reading the same thing.

When the audition ended, we were told that "call backs" would be held the following Monday and that if we were to be called back, we would get a phone call before then. Having watched everyone audition, I had my own opinions as to who might be called back, and thought my chances were reasonable, but I wouldn't say I was very confident I would get called. There are a lot of things that go into casting decisions that the actor can't necessarily control - physical characteristics that the director might be looking for, the "chemistry" among actors, and things of that ilk. So, again, I went away with the attitude that I'd gotten up the courage to do something different, and if this is where it ended, well, then it was fun while it lasted. And I went home.

Later that evening the call came. Denise was far more impressed this time - I hadn't just auditioned, I, apparently, auditioned well. I spent the next two days wondering what would be involved in call backs and who would be called back.

Monday night finally rolled around, and when I filed into the theater I was pleased to see that one of the women I had thought did a very good job at the audition was there. Finally, another woman and another man showed up - both of whom had done very well at the audition as well. Then Tobin announced that the second round of auditions would begin. It took me a moment, but then it hit me - there were only four people here. This wasn't an audition to see if we would make the play, but, rather, what part we would play. I had done the seemingly impossible - I had gotten a part!

And so we acted. I read for "Tom," the philandering husband, and I read for "Gabe," the food critic best friend of Tom. And I read with the two different women actors. And, after about a half hour, Tobin stopped everyone and said, "Okay, that's it, I've got it."

And, for the next two months, I would be "Tom," a New York City lawyer who lived in Connecticut with his estranged wife, Beth.

Now, the real fun began. With only four people in the play, every part was considered a "lead" part, and the amount of memorization was huge. Then, the day we were supposed to start rehearsing, the director called and said we'd have to put off rehearsal for a week. A week later, we found out why - the man and woman who had been picked to play the other couple (and who are a couple in real life, with several small children) decided they couldn't make the time commitment. So the director had to scurry around and re-cast those parts. All the while, we were losing valuable rehearsal time and opening night was getting nearer.

But that's a story for another day - and the next installment of Life in Maine, which, I promise, will happen in two weeks rather than two months. Until then...TO BE CONTINUED!