whether i'm singing or just talking, i've been twisting my voice around to make it sound like whatever i want it to be ever since i can remember. if singing is this close to the bone, can voiceover work really be that far off the mark? isn't it all some form of vocalizing? both have their own skill set but either way, i'm acting my way through it. and now that my commercial demo is up and at 'em online, there are a lot more voiceover opportunities coming at me all the time. weird, the way doors that i've walked past for years can suddenly spring open out of nowhere. i always thought, i have a nice voice, i should do voiceovers -- but i didn't have a clue as to where to begin and once i got ahold of that clue, i didn't know how to put it all together. but i'm past all that now. thank God.
i can't remember the last time i did an audition on a sun-drenched saturday afternoon that would normally find me running a 10 minute mile but i suppose there's a next time for everything. this one was for the pilot of an animated series called pulp friction that's similar to what you might find on adult swim. i knew that they wanted a monologue but i just didn't have one in me. after writing 3 one person shows, improvising whatever i need in the moment when i have to yammer on cue for 2 minutes has never been an problem. they warned that that they were videotaping, so i threw on a little makeup and, preoccupied with what i looked like, i zipped out of my place without a headshot/resume. super-smart, right? right.
i didn't even realize that i didn't have what i needed until i was in the elevator on my way up to ripley-greer studios. by the time i signed in with the audition monitor, i felt like a complete idiot. but that "i'm a complete idiot" feeling wasn't enough to make me not go through with the audition. i figured, whatever. the bottom line is, i'm here and how i feel about whatever ball i've dropped is irrelevant. feelings fake me out all the time. it's not that they aren't valid or real. it' s just that when the stuff hits the proverbial fan, they aren't the main thing i should be paying attention to. and too often in the past, that's the way the ball bounced. the smoke clears and phrases like, "i felt that this was..." or "i had a feeling about how we would..." feelings, whoa, whoa, whoa feelings. whoa. let's think this through: i'm not afraid to look stupid, probably because i know that i'm smart.
so i get in the room. it's a guy behind a camera and in front of him are three guys sitting at a long table. they are upbeat, genuinely interested, affable and friendly. how ideal is that? i told them that i forgot my headshot but that i'd email it right away. no problem. then i told them i had no monologue. that wasn't a problem, either. the guy all the way to the left gave me a copy of the onion and told me to read anytihng on the front page. just make it funny, he added good-naturedly, and as he did, they all nodded. funny, huh i mumbled as my eyes scanned the page. my gazed crash-landed on an article out of the ATL. i considered that to be a sign from God and began to read it in my best texarkana accent that i could muster. as i did, a strange thing happened: i killed. after a minute or so, they gave me a few pages of script and asked me to review 2 characters: clayton, the alcoholic easter bunny and craig, the reindeer that's also a thug-wannabe. both guys. when i began to ask questions, they showed me artist's renderings. i really loved the bunny. he was way too pink and cheery looking and fuzzy, and he clutched a bottle of hard liquor in one hand, and he looked really really fried.
i sat outside, a little dazed that i'd gotten that far and made some mental notes with script choices. when i went back into the room, i asked them if they knew who foster brooks was. i thought it would be interesting to play the bunny that way. all i got was blank faces all around, except for the camera guy, who remarked that when he was reading it that's who he was thinking of.
immediately, i thought of ozzy ozbourne who remarked that he'd never take up with a younger woman because they'd have nothing to talk about. sometimes when i get to talking about whatever i'm thinking of and i start bouncing stuff around to illustrate what i mean, i get blank looks like this. ew.
and yes, my friend knows who foster brooks is. thank God. but i digress.
i made it through that instant callback with flying colors and skipped off to the gym on 125 -- so happy, i ran a mile in 10 minutes. we'll see if i got the gig or not. the good news is, i didn't leave. i drove it home with one headlight.