morning gruel

box boy

I am a highly skilled professional actor.

I have many (what they call) 'special skills' listed on my resume. These are things that I would be able to do while performing if the role called for it. My special skills include freediving, scuba diving, horseback riding, and driving a car (yup, they think that's a special skill) as well as some less physical skills like speaking German.

When an audition for a role comes along that requires a skill that's not listed on my resume, I'm usually willing to give it a try. Which basically means I lie and say I know how to do whatever it is they need me to do. As a general rule you don't have to perform skills during an audition anyway -- they just take you at your word. So most actors just go out and take a crash course in say, boomerang throwing, if they get the gig.

But at my audition this morning I was thrown a curve-ball. I had no idea that I was going to have to demonstrate a skill during my audition. But I was willing to give it a go. And to tell you the truth, it wasn't very difficult for me to stand in front of the camera and FOLD A BOX. I mean, I had no time to prepare and it's certainly not a special skill that I have listed on my resume but I'm pretty sure I nailed it anyway. But I tell ya, it's a good thing I didn't have to say any lines at the same time -- that probably would have been too much for me to handle.

lotto 5/29

I was shocked to learn that my agent got me an audition today. It had been so long since I last heard from my agent that I wasn't even sure that he represented me anymore. I keep half expecting to call his office one day and get a message saying this number is no longer in service.

The audition is for yet another cheesy commercial (is there any other kind?). At least this time I have lines. Probably the best thing about this potential gig is that it shoots in Toronto. Going to T.O. means I'd make more money and more importantly, I would get to visit my wonderful Aunt Pat and Uncle Ted. But before I plan my trip I have to get the gig.

I wonder how many hundred guys will be at the audition. When I go to an audition and there's an overflowing room of people all up for the same role, I can't help but think that showing up is a complete waste of time. I mean, I have other more productive things that I could be doing. But it's not a waste of time if I get the gig.

Just like it's not a waste of money to play the lottery if you've bought the winning ticket.

pedestrian

Well, I had an A&W audition yesterday. As I had suspected, it was a bit of a cattle-call. But at least it was quick. Because there's nothing worse than auditioning with a hundred other guys and waiting an hour or more to say maybe one line.

Now, there are two main characters in this commercial: Allen, the A&W manager, and Trainee. The two of them have some HILARIOUS misunderstanding that ends in a giant blow-up hamburger inflating itself inside the store and pushing them up against the glass so everyone can see. That's where my part comes in: Pedestrian.

This is how my audition for Pedestrian in the A&W commercial went:

I walked into the room and took my place on a little line of green masking tape. I looked into the camera and said, Hi my name is Craig Warkentin and I'm with John Davies Talent.

Then we moved into the acting part of the audition which the casting director kindly talked me through saying, Okay look at the camera... look to your right... maybe cross your arms... look puzzled... look back to the camera... now maybe a little eyebrow... That's great, thanks!

Yup, great! That's me, Craig Warkentin, eyebrow actor extraodinaire.

please state your name and agent

I've got an audition today.

I get this call last night from my agent: Hey Craig, are you still interested in going out for the odd commercial? Of course I say YES since I don't recall ever giving the impression that I wouldn't be interested.

To tell the truth, I'm actually not at all interested in yet another A&W commercial. But my actor's union membership is up for renewal at the end of the month and it would be nice to be able to justify paying for it. Besides, a gig's a gig from what I can remember.

My agent goes on to tell me that his assistant has left to start up her own roster. I don't hear anything he has to say after this because all I can think is: What if she was the brains behind the agency?

You see, this kind of agency upheaval can have a negative influence on one's career. It's possible that the person who leaves the agency is your greatest champion, the person who thinks of you first, the person who tells casting directors to take a chance on you. So I'm about to go into a full-blown panic over the detrimental effect this can all have on my career when I realize that it doesn't matter because my career can't get any worse.

get the facts first

I've got an audition this morning.

My agent tricked me. When she called yesterday, she asked me if I could go to an audition. I made the mistake of saying yes before she told me that it was for A&W. After telling me what it was for, she then asked me if I had any food allergies BECAUSE I WOULD HAVE TO EAT IN THE COMMERCIAL. You see the thing is, I'm a vegetarian (Okay so I eat fish sometimes, but the A&W people probably think that fish is a vegetable anyway).

When I told my agent that I was vegetarian, there was a pause and then...oh. But at this point, I already said that I was available so to back out now would have a)made me look bad, and b)made my agent never want to call me again. She asked me if I still wanted to go. Sure, I said, as long as they pay me well and they've got a spit bucket on set. I am a trooper.

Right before she hung up, I asked her if there were any sides (that means 'lines' in non-actor speak). No, she said, it's SOC. Oh boy, I can't wait.

Next time I will get all of the facts before saying yes.

(The January Project update...  on time: 03    late: 04)

to be or not to be

I have been fortunate enough to get some acting gigs that I've been proud of.

But it's been some time since a decent gig came around. And even if one did come around right now, the pay isn't what it used to be. Since the pay isn't what it used to be, actors who used to not be bothered with smaller roles now willingly audition for them because they need the money. So now, I've got more competition for less pay. But even that is wishful thinking because those actors who are slumming it for the small roles have made it almost impossible for me to even get an audition because they're filling up the waiting room. So I'm barely even auditioning, never mind getting any work. And when I do finally manage to score an audition, it's for some lame commercial that pays less than a good night waiting tables at a decent restaurant. Sounds like a great career choice, doesn't it?

I often don't talk about this, but I haven't had a gig in several years. Which raises a question inside of me: Am I still an actor? I still pay my union dues, so I must be. Right? But why would I continue to pay my dues when I know that there's less and less chance of me getting any decent work? Because there's always hope that I'm going to get some great gig and be discovered? That's the kind of thinking that had me waiting tables and baking cheesecake in a hot kitchen for years. How long can one possibly be expected to suffer before giving up?

Let's look at it scientifically...

t-(h+u+a)=x

If 't' is total income, 'h' is headshots, 'u' is union dues, and 'a' is acting classes then 'x' is how profitable my acting career has been. I'm happy to say that when calculated over the span of my career, 'x' is a positive number. But when time is factored into the equation, I see that 'x' is rapidly shrinking.

Somewhere inside of me is a tiny financial advisor screaming, "SELL! SELL!"

the game

There's this game that a lot of actors play at auditions.

THE GAME works like this: the more people you know in the waiting room, the more important you seem to be to everyone else there. In this way, you can psych out your fellow auditioners. Oh my God, he knows everybody here, he's so popular, he's going to get the gig for sure.

I do not play THE GAME. But occasionally I am drawn into it as an unwilling participant. Yesterday I was sitting in the waiting room, waiting, when in walks this tall blonde woman. She looks like an actress. I know her, she's nice. She's a customer at my store. So when she makes eye contact from across the room I say something like, Hey, how's it going? Now, there are many simple responses to this that would not play into THE GAME. Hers is not one of them.

Instead of a simple hello, she sweeps across the room with a smile that says, Dahling, I haven't seen you since Paris! I sit on the bench and brace myself as she leans over, puts her arms around me and kisses my cheek. She says, Oh it's soooo good to see you! How ARE you? This is rather unexpected. We are not close friends. I didn't even think we were friends. Acquaintances sure, but we don't hang out or joke around or go for coffee...or kiss. Then I realize what's happening... I'm a pawn in THE GAME.

She goes back across the room, but she's not done yet. She grabs her things and comes back and sits down beside me. She starts in with the actor talk, Who's your agent? Have you been auditioning much? But instead of talking about her great successes, it turns out that she, like me, hasn't been working much at all. The more I talk to her, the more I realize that she's a real human being who's struggling and not some blonde actress android. She speaks quietly and stays next to me until I get called in to audition. She doesn't work the room. And as I get up I realize that she hasn't been playing THE GAME at all. She's just being friendly and she's happy that there's someone there she can talk to. How refreshing.

the silver bullet

I have an audition this morning.

It's a Coors Lite commercial which calls for a "male, all ethnicities 25-35". Once again I'm stuck at a cattle call where the odds of getting the gig are only slightly higher than the odds that I'm a descendant of the Romanov family. Sure, I could blow off the audition, but it's like someone's dangling a lottery ticket in front of my face. I'd be a fool to not try to grab it.

You'd think that after 16 years in the business that I'd be able to avoid cattle calls. But acting doesn't work that way. It's not like any other business. You see, unless you're a superstar it's very difficult to move up in the ranks. Because it's the only job where literally anyone can do it. That's not to say that anyone can do it well, but casting directors don't really care about how good you are, they care about how good you look. They just want you to look the part more than anyone else. Well, I'm not sure how I'm going to do it yet, but today I'm going to try to look like "all ethnicities 25-35".

Wish me luck.

living off my residuals

Yesterday I received a residual cheque.

Residual cheques are one of the small perks of being an actor. You see, when I do television work, I am paid for a given period of time that they will air the episode that I'm in. Usually this is a five year term. If I'm lucky, they continue to run the show after the five years are up and they have to pay me again . This is when they send me a residual cheque.

Ten years ago, I was in the pilot episode of a rather corny sci-fi series called First Wave, which became a cult hit for some specialty cable channel. I played a waiter and I had one line. My agent told me that I got the gig because I was the only one that the director thought looked like a waiter. I was so flattered.

Anyway, ten years later I'm into another five year term and they have to pay me again. I don't get residual cheques very often, so I was excited to receive an envelope from my union with a cheque showing through the address window. Depending on the popularity of the show and the size of the role, these cheques can be significant. So it's kinda like winning the lottery when one of these cheques shows up out of the blue. I tore it open and looked at the amout:

$13.49

it's like playing a lottery with a teeny-tiny prize

Yesterday I blew off an audition.

A couple of days ago, I get this message that I have an audition the next morning. Now, I like going to auditions, as long as they are interesting and/or I have a better chance of getting the gig than I do of being trampled by a herd of elephants on my way to work. So I download the script. This one just gets worse with every line I read. To start, it's a commercial, which means there's going to be a few hundred guys auditioning. So at this point, I already know that I have a better chance of winning the lottery (well, maybe not the jackpot, but 3 plus the extra maybe) than getting this gig. Second, it's a commercial for Boston Pizza...extra cheesy boring. There aren't even any lines. There are just random groups of people feigning having fun at Boston Pizza--in the restaurant, in the sports lounge...oh boy, good times! And to top it all off, the advice my agent leaves for me is, "Just go casual. You know, a nice polo shirt." Oh. God.

I just can't do it. I can't go into a room and pretend that I'm having a great time at Boston Pizza, especially when I know that getting the gig would do nothing for my career or my bank account. Wait, you're thinking, don't actors make tons of money? Nope, not on a regional commercial for Boston Pizza they don't. And I'd rather be just about anywhere than sitting in the fluorescent glow of a waiting room full of guys wearing polo shirts. I picture myself sitting in that crowded room, hoping that someone will choose me so I can spend a day pretending to enjoy Boston Pizza (now that would be acting!). No thanks.

So I call my agent back first thing in the morning because he's not an early bird and it's soooo much easier to say no to a machine. I leave a message saying that I can't make the audition because I have an appointment.

Which I did. Really.

And then I went out and bought a lottery ticket.