A major fail. It's the only way I can describe my first casting. I'm not actually sure if it was really that bad, but sometimes the aftertaste is all that matters. The worst part is I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t have any of the signs of being nervous. There were no butterflies, my mouth wasn’t dry, and I felt filled more with curiosity than apprehension.
I love
behind the scenes adventures and so I was looking forward to finding out what a
casting call for a TV series in Abidjan would be like. The studio was small but
professional. It was tucked in and around and behind, but the actors and
actresses who’d hoped to audition seemed to find it well enough. Aside from one woman who was dressed in a
leopard print pantsuit and 4 in. high heels, most of them appeared to be
everyday people. There was even one young girl, about 12, accompanied by her
dad or uncle.
The sign-
up sheet is the first step and requires your name, age and phone number. According to the sheet, I was the oldest one
there. I reminded myself that age in
Africa has a fluid quality and tried not to think too much of that. My neighbor
stepped into her professional role and took to getting things organized inside.
We, the hopefuls, sat outside in a long narrow atrium. There were white benches
and potted plants and a wall of sliding glass doors in front of us that
permitted a slight view of the actors as they read their parts.
One of the
stagehands read off the names from the list, gave a measured glance at whoever
said “me” and then handed them a script. He told them which part they would
read and sent them off to practice their parts in groups of 2 and 3.
I waited
and observed the new arrivals. My neighbor checked in with me and whispered in
my ear an offer of coffee and cake that the directors were serving up. I
declined figuring I stood out enough as it was. We’d come with another neighbor
of ours, a singer in her church choir
but not a professional actress, so I felt good about my situation. I wasn’t the
only novice even if I was the only white person.
Abidjan has a healthy French population, not to mention other European countries. I'm not sure why I keep finding myself in places where I am so obviously the other. I tried not to focus on this and waited for someone to come along who would be perfect for a part to read with me.
I spent some time (over) analyzing the role in my mind. I was supposed to be the wife of an African who had spent time abroad (due to war and conflict, perhaps) and was just moving back to his country. He wasn't particularly happy about it, due to some conflicts he'd had with his community before leaving (the details are a bit fuzzy and I never did get a copy of the entire script.) I was also mother of a son who gets a girl pregnant.
Abidjan has a healthy French population, not to mention other European countries. I'm not sure why I keep finding myself in places where I am so obviously the other. I tried not to focus on this and waited for someone to come along who would be perfect for a part to read with me.
I spent some time (over) analyzing the role in my mind. I was supposed to be the wife of an African who had spent time abroad (due to war and conflict, perhaps) and was just moving back to his country. He wasn't particularly happy about it, due to some conflicts he'd had with his community before leaving (the details are a bit fuzzy and I never did get a copy of the entire script.) I was also mother of a son who gets a girl pregnant.
The part of the script I'd been given revolved around our first days in the neighborhood. I wasn't very nice to the people around me (the driver, the house workers, the neighbors) as in- I didn't offer greetings (later it becomes clear this is the husband's directive.) One line I was supposed to read actually said, "Am I obligated to say hello to you?" I practiced my snooty voice in my head even as I wondered why the role had to be so cliche. Eventually, I aka Madame Kone, make friends with a woman neighbor who helps me figure out market shopping. I grudgingly admit there is probably more truth than stereotype in this scenario. But the longer I sat there, the more my moral sensibilities started to kick in and I wondered if I shouldn't make some kind of a stand for white women everywhere (or for those who live in Africa, at least.) Need we always be portrayed as bumbling fools who can't manage to buy some fruits and say good morning to our neighbors? Really.
Before I let myself wander too far down this road, I did realize that I probably needed to make a name for myself in African TV before I could sway any opinions and start changing cliches. Luckily, my real neighbor also decided it was time for me to read and assigned one of the actors to play the part of my son, Freddy. We practiced the (very few) lines a bit until I felt comfortable. The lines were so few in fact that it seemed a bit ridiculous to say them more than 6 or 7 times to each other.
We were able to sit inside the taping room just before our turn. This gave us a chance to see the group in front of us. They were 3. The way the audition works is that one person is identified as the principle. This person takes a place on the small stage while the others are just off camera. Only the principle is filmed, though the other voices can be heard. This helps with identifying the actors.
The principle stands first facing the camera, gives their name, and phone number, and maybe answers a few questions. Then the profile shot is taken. Finally, the reading begins. This process means I watched the group in front of me read their short scene 3 times so that each of the actors would have a chance in the center. Fascinating stuff.
My turn came quickly enough and I took the center spot. In the scene, I was just arriving home and called out to my son a few times. He doesn't answer until I tap him on the shoulder, which startles him. Of course, he is busy keeping out of camera range so I can't actually tap him. All I have to say is, "Freddy.....Freddy... Oh Fred. There you are." He responds finally by saying how I startled him. And then I say, "I've been calling you forever." He asks me what it is I wanted and I respond, " Nothing. But...are you sure you're all right?" The scene ends kind of abruptly there- those were all the pages I had.
I'd practiced this in French with my partner enough to feel I'd had it memorized. The camera didn't bother me and I am pretty good at imagining- yup, I could see the house all around and the kid on the sofa ignoring me. No big stretch there. But while I was speaking, I kept seeing the printed words on the page and the tu (you) and tout (all) were getting mixed up in my head. I couldn't seem to understand what I was really supposed to say (or rather, I wanted to say it my way in my possibly bad French. Oh the undoing of my learning!) In any case, I fumbled a bit at the end and looked apologetically at my neighbor.
I'm sure it didn't happen this way, but in my memory the camera man and my neighbor rushed up to me (which they really did) and started patting me and fixing my hair (which I don't think they did. I can't quite remember what they were doing up so close to me.) I guess maybe they were just offering reassurances. They told me I could even speak in English (which seemed an absurd way to audition for a role in French.) They just needed to see how I expressed myself. I 'read' it again, but when it came to that part, Tu est sure tout va bien....or was it c'est sure tu va bien? I got tangled up. Comprehension was getting in the way of my ability to emphasize the parts I wanted to. In the end it was the same idea and surely the exact words were less important than the overall message.
I felt like I let my neighbor down- and I definitely let myself down. It appeared like an easy challenge, but in the end, I'm not satisfied with the results. I don't really know what it means for the future (my neighbor had assured me - when I asked about this very thing beforehand- that they would spend some time training me if needed.) I could respond well to that and I do love a good challenge. In truth, I'm not sure how bad it was I just know it wasn't good enough for me. Unfortunately, with things like this, the only solution seems to be practice and I'm not sure how many more Ivorian television series I will be able to try out for. Maybe there is something to that bumbling white woman in Africa cliche after all.
Before I let myself wander too far down this road, I did realize that I probably needed to make a name for myself in African TV before I could sway any opinions and start changing cliches. Luckily, my real neighbor also decided it was time for me to read and assigned one of the actors to play the part of my son, Freddy. We practiced the (very few) lines a bit until I felt comfortable. The lines were so few in fact that it seemed a bit ridiculous to say them more than 6 or 7 times to each other.
We were able to sit inside the taping room just before our turn. This gave us a chance to see the group in front of us. They were 3. The way the audition works is that one person is identified as the principle. This person takes a place on the small stage while the others are just off camera. Only the principle is filmed, though the other voices can be heard. This helps with identifying the actors.
The principle stands first facing the camera, gives their name, and phone number, and maybe answers a few questions. Then the profile shot is taken. Finally, the reading begins. This process means I watched the group in front of me read their short scene 3 times so that each of the actors would have a chance in the center. Fascinating stuff.
My turn came quickly enough and I took the center spot. In the scene, I was just arriving home and called out to my son a few times. He doesn't answer until I tap him on the shoulder, which startles him. Of course, he is busy keeping out of camera range so I can't actually tap him. All I have to say is, "Freddy.....Freddy... Oh Fred. There you are." He responds finally by saying how I startled him. And then I say, "I've been calling you forever." He asks me what it is I wanted and I respond, " Nothing. But...are you sure you're all right?" The scene ends kind of abruptly there- those were all the pages I had.
I'd practiced this in French with my partner enough to feel I'd had it memorized. The camera didn't bother me and I am pretty good at imagining- yup, I could see the house all around and the kid on the sofa ignoring me. No big stretch there. But while I was speaking, I kept seeing the printed words on the page and the tu (you) and tout (all) were getting mixed up in my head. I couldn't seem to understand what I was really supposed to say (or rather, I wanted to say it my way in my possibly bad French. Oh the undoing of my learning!) In any case, I fumbled a bit at the end and looked apologetically at my neighbor.
I'm sure it didn't happen this way, but in my memory the camera man and my neighbor rushed up to me (which they really did) and started patting me and fixing my hair (which I don't think they did. I can't quite remember what they were doing up so close to me.) I guess maybe they were just offering reassurances. They told me I could even speak in English (which seemed an absurd way to audition for a role in French.) They just needed to see how I expressed myself. I 'read' it again, but when it came to that part, Tu est sure tout va bien....or was it c'est sure tu va bien? I got tangled up. Comprehension was getting in the way of my ability to emphasize the parts I wanted to. In the end it was the same idea and surely the exact words were less important than the overall message.
I felt like I let my neighbor down- and I definitely let myself down. It appeared like an easy challenge, but in the end, I'm not satisfied with the results. I don't really know what it means for the future (my neighbor had assured me - when I asked about this very thing beforehand- that they would spend some time training me if needed.) I could respond well to that and I do love a good challenge. In truth, I'm not sure how bad it was I just know it wasn't good enough for me. Unfortunately, with things like this, the only solution seems to be practice and I'm not sure how many more Ivorian television series I will be able to try out for. Maybe there is something to that bumbling white woman in Africa cliche after all.
