Mystery Guest, Sign in Please

I don't like to insert myself too much into my reviews, although it's a bit inevitable. If you're giving your opinion—if you're writing a blog—you're writing about yourself. But, as these stories involve other people...and interesting people, I'll give a brief glimpse into my past life—a couple stories about my time as a recording engineer that I'd like to share. They're two instances when I got to see a glimpse of things to come, and they are a clear example of sentiments expressed in "The Last Word" that always ends this blog-page: "A great talent can come from anywhere."

I was working on a radio play series for National Public Radio, here in the States, sponsored by the Boeing Company called "Sixteen Stories of Anton Chekhov." One of the plays had the cream of Seattle acting all in one room. Folks like John Aylward and Ted D'Arms, who've done decades of stage plays and made it to Hollywood. This particular radio script was based on Chekhov's "Sleepy," an unblinking, unsentimental story about a young nanny who is basically a slave in a 19th Century Russian household: she cooks, she cleans, she does laundry, she takes care of the baby--the constantly fussing baby. She's exhausted--sleep-deprived, actually, and haunted by visions of her mother and others trudging as refugees through a driving rain. Tough story. Tough in content, and tough to execute in that the girl narrates most of the story. Especially, when at the end, in her delirium, the girl smothers the baby.

It's a devastating, tragic story.

Cast in the role of nanny was a very young girl. She was, actually, the daughter of the fellow who helped secure the Boeing funding, who had inquired if there was a role his aspiring actress-kid could play. Well, yeah, this one. It would be an acting challenge for anyone, but this girl was relatively untried. The director assured us that she seemed okay in the reading, but was prepared to either work with her for a good performance, as well as lowering his expectations.

We assembled the actors in the studio together and hoped for the best.

When she began to perform, it became clear that she was prepared for the arduous task of recreating this part. Her voice was a low, hopeless, exhausted monotone. It drew you in. You hung on her every word. Early on, we started exchanging looks in the booth. She was good. Could she sustain it? And we noticed something else. The actors in the studio weren't looking at their pages, or fussing with their parts. They were watching her. She was this tiny little frame, huddled, her face intense, focused on the script, and all eyes were on her. When the actors' parts came up, they were always on-cue, and when they had to be rough, they cranked it up a notch in intensity, barking their lines. The actors in the dream sequences, inched closer to their microphones and made their parts more intimate, more haunting. There were very few pauses, not a lot of takes--it had the intensity of being done live and they had to get it right, riding on the wave of this little girl's heart-breaking performance.

By the end, we were all drained, our jaws on the floor. Not only was she better than expected, she was better than we COULD expect. At the end, there was silence as the final haunting words were spoken with a tragic depth, and no one wanted to move, to hold the tension as if it would all go away if anyone said anything to break the moment. "Wow," someone said in the studio. "Yeah!" The actors congratulated the young actress. "Was it okay?" she looked up at the booth. "Yeah, it was VERY good. You'll want to hear this."

"REEALLY?!!"

We brought her in and let her listen to the recordings, and she began to relax. "Who's picking you up?" we asked. "My Dad." "Well, he's going to want to hear this."

Dad showed up. "How'd she do?" We praised her to the skies (in all honesty), and told him he should listen to what she did. We played it for him, and his eyes became cloudy, listening to his daughter's performance. He was obviously proud, as well he should have been. She did an amazing job, and when we put it together and combined it with sound effects, we took extra care with it, she was that good. And doubly amazing because she was so young and the acting was so mature.

This aspiring actress' name? Anna Faris.

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0267506/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anna_Faris

Since the time I first wrote this, I've found that the series "Sixteen Stories of Anton Chekhov" is available online at The Internet Archive. 

Here is a link to the episode that contains "Sleepy."

Mystery Guest, Sign in Please

I don't like to insert myself too much into my reviews, although it's a bit inevitable. If you're giving your opinion—if you're writing a blog—you're writing about yourself. But, as these stories involve other people...and interesting people, I'll give a brief glimpse into my past life—a couple stories about my time as a recording engineer that I'd like to share. They're two instances when I got to see a glimpse of things to come, and they are a clear example of sentiments expressed in "The Last Word" that always ends this blog-page: "A great talent can come from anywhere."

In my studio career, I did lots of auditions. Lots and lots. We'd had whole days where folks came in to read a part, or we'd ask agents to bring folks in we'd never seen before to see who was out there, and if they had some possibilities.

There was an open-call for the part of a kid for a video game company, and we were pretty shy of "young adult" voices, so we held an open casting. People would come in, take a look at the script, and then I'd record them for one or two "takes," say "Thanks! That was great!" (whether it was or not) and go on to the next one. Then, we'd take all the recordings and put them into a nice little collection and ship them out to the producer/director/writer who would do the casting. Sometimes, they'd ask for our recommendations. They'd at least inquire if there were any possibilities. This particular writer/producer/director (we'll call him "Bob") was also an actor, so we could talk about specific qualities that we were looking for in detail. In other words, we could "fine-tune" the search.

The day of the audition, actor after actor showed up to have their voice recorded so that "Bob" could hear what they might do with the material, and as with every audition they ran the gamut from possible to horrible. By two in the afternoon, there wasn't anybody I thought was any good. Oh, there were a couple we could "get by" with, but on the whole it was one of the worst casting sessions I'd ever had. I'd even go so far as to try and direct these people into a performance to little success. In fact, I'd just finished the worst audition of the day when a guy showed up--a late addition to the schedule. He was about six feet, carried a back-pack, it was obvious he came in right off the street. He apologized for seeming unprepared, said he'd just graduated from Cornish and his agent thought he should do some auditions. I said, "Great! Whatever!" And put him into the booth. Then I gave him the standard instructions I gave all the auditioners about the part and what the producers might be looking for. I wasn't expecting anything different than what had come before.

But, a great talent can come from anywhere.

Right off the bat, he was good, with an intensity and a commitment that nobody else gave to the role. Plus, his timing was terrific, making the most of lines that had only a bit of humor to them. And--this was amazing--he had a sense of subtext, like the character actually had a life before he started talking, and it informed what he was saying now. Very rare, and that put him head and tails above all the rest of the auditioners. In fact, when "Bob" asked me if there were any I'd recommend, I said "Just one." That guy. "In fact, I wouldn't consider anybody else." "He's that good?" "He's THAT good."

So, "Bob" hired him. He thought he might be a bit old for the part, but he said, "He knows how to make himself sound younger, so we'll see." He said he was very easy to direct, and did things in a very subtle way. He was very happy with the performance, and the project was completed.

But it was rejected by the game company.

"He's too old!" they said in their infinite wisdom. "We want someone 14 to 15. He sounds 18, youngest." So, "Bob" had to recast the part and do it again, which was too bad. But, the client is always right in these things. So, this guy who was so good ended up getting replaced in the project.

But everything turned out all right in the end. This guy, this young actor who'd just graduated from Cornish, got paid for the part despite being replaced, and went on to do "other things." Lots of other things.

And the client got what they wanted, which was to get someone who skewed a little younger. I'm sure they've forgotten the incident, and that they rejected this particular guy.

His name: Brendan Fraser.

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000409/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brendan_Fraser