Sunday, June 7, 2009

Casting In The Bay Area

I am getting frustrated with local theatre companies. Okay, that's not quite right: I am always frustrated with local theatre companies. I have a long list of constant frustrations, things like the board of a non-profit theatre actually running the theatre, usually with little or no savvy; ugly women on the board of the theatre with ugly daughters they pressure weak directors into casting in the lead; nice old ladies everywhere who think they know something about theatre freaking out when a professional in their midst does things differently than the hacks they usually hire. Valid concerns, you doubtless agree. But today I write of the most recent set of frustrations: Job Offers.
I get a lot of job offers. Got one yesterday for the ensemble in a dance-heavy new show about something vaguely esoteric that will never get outside San Francisco. I turned it down: a) I'm not the guy for a dance-heavy show unless you are looking for Three Stooges Technique [now that I have in spades]; b) only offered $500.00, not nearly enough to cover BART or gas and toll for the time required.
Smaller theatres offer me roles all the time, superb leading roles that would look great on my resume ... except that the theatres don't pay twat and are actually -- get this -- honestly baffled when I raise the question of money. "Edward, we --," and there's a pause here as he looks around at the rest of the board, most of whom are also in the production, having chosen and/or bickered over their roles. "We assumed that you're like us, you do it for the love of the art. Right? I mean, how could someone of your skill and intelligence have made it so far as an artist but be living in the East Bay? Nobody here gets paid. Ever. Except the musicians and the director. If you're serious about being an actor, shouldn't you be in LA?"
Ignorant cocksuckers, one and all.
Mid-level theatres offer some occasional tidbits, but apparently my status as a mere EMC does not qualify me for more than supporting roles in anything.
Or -- and here it is, folks, the source of my River Nile of Rant -- if they want to give me a lead, they make an offer for a show and then neglect to specify the amount, leaving me in the position of asking exactly how much money is involved.
This is a very uncomfortable position, and I think it's one into which these mid-level companies intentionally put actors, so that we feel grateful for being offered a role at all, leaving us as hesitant to ask about money as we are grateful to be offered the role. Very, very frustrating.
Even the Upper Echelons of local theatrical greatness (Theatreworks, Berkeley Rep, Cal Shakes) are not above some underhanded dealings with EMC or Non-AEA actors. One of my favorites: I was offered a small role and an understudy position at one of the local biggies; I was told, "This pays $250 a week." I said yes. That sounded great. But the pay didn't start until the show opened, and was considerably less than I had been told. We had easily a month and a half of rehearsal before opening. We didn't run long enough for me to make back what I'd spent in travel. Lesson learned: just because they're one of the biggies doesn't mean they're not looking to pinch some pennies with the lowly locals. After all: if the biggies want you, that means they have enough New York talent to please the subscribers and now they're looking for cheap labor to carry spears and be on time.
What I would really like would be clear, concise offers from now on. Something along these lines:
Show:
Role:
Stipend/Salary:
Director:
Choreographer:
Stage Manager:
Rehearsal Start Date:
Performance Start Date:
Performance End Date:
Possible Extension:
Is this so much to ask? I mean Christ, these companies have to be organized to survive at all, right?
Right?
Insert noncommittal chuckle here.

© 2009, Edward Hightower. All Rights Reserved.

1 comment:

  1. seriously. "frammis ersayri" thats the definition of lovecraftian elvish. also, predatory contracting is one of the things that always gets my goat.

    ReplyDelete