This is a reprint of an article I wrote for the local paper when No Country for Old Men first came out. It's just a story - no big acting lessons - but it's a worthy preface to my next post, so I'll just put it here without further explanation:
Austin American-Statesman
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Tales of the City:
Biggest fantasy for local actor? Nailing role in Coens’ audition
by Trent Moore
SPECIAL TO THE AMERICAN-STATESMAN
Part of being an actor is having ridiculous fantasies and believing they might come true. Even the most artistically pure among us have practiced an Oscar acceptance speech or taken an imaginary meeting with Steven Speilberg.
Because I live in a city known to be one of the best places to live and make movies, and because my house is close to Austin Studios, my fantasy is to casually stroll down the street to work with giants of American cinema.
It’s just a silly little pipe dream, I think, until I find myself actually making that stroll to meet Joel and Ethan Coen. After getting the call to audition for “No Country for Old Men,” the new film by two of American’s greatest filmmakers, I am beyond excited.
As an actor, you go to many an audition for deodorant ads or training films on how to use ant bait in hopes that they will lead to an audition like this one. It’s a privilege just to get a foot in the door, even though I know that, realistically, my chances of being cast are slim. But I try not to let reality get in the way as I head to Austin Studios for my first reading.
Throughout the casting agent’s office are signs warning eager actors that “LESS IS MORE,” and I know I’ll be OK. In the scene I will be reading, my character, whose name in the script is simply “Man at Chair,” sees a man gunned down and cautiously tries to talk his way out of also being killed. I have decided to play the scene while holding almost perfectly still, so the “less is more” directive suits me fine.
I go in, I audition, and I wait.
An excruciating two weeks later, a friend who also auditioned phones to tell me he has a callback, and that Joel and Ethan will be there for the second audition. I hang up and then stare at the phone for a couple of hours, begging it to ring.
Remarkably, it does. I think, “This had better be my agent telling me I have a callback.” Remarkably, it is. Just like the daydream I’ve had a thousand times, I am going to walk down the street to meet two of my favorite artists. I am, as they say, completely freaking out.
Perhaps a better person could be cool about all of this, but I cannot. I spend the next four days doing far, far too much preparation for a six-line scene. I read the Cormac McCarthy book the movie is adapted from in just a few sittings. I videotape and watch myself doing the scene in every conceivable way, including the various styles of every Coen brothers movie ever made. (Applying a “Fargo” accent to any scene always provides a fresh perspective).
I try to make up for years of physical neglect with four days of intense workouts. And I occasionally try to settle down and think about other things. But that never really happens.
Finally the morning of the audition comes. I eat some breakfast and make a futile attempt at doing some calming yoga. I go to the audition, sign in, and am called into the room.
“Hi, I’m Joel,” one of the Coens says. His brother adds, “I’m Ethan. Thanks for coming in.” I can’t help but laugh. They’re thanking me?
“Sure no problem,” I say. We start the scene. In the script, the killer named Chigurh (the part will be played by Javier Bardem, but today it’s an assitant reading from a script on a music stand) asks, “Who are you?” There’s supposed to be a long pause before the Man at Chair says the next line.
And I take a long, long pause. It is the moment before I utter the first word of the biggest audition of my life, and I’m going to savor it. My heart is in my throat.
My eyes move to the imaginary dead body, then slowly back to the killer. Finally, in a surprisingly matter of fact tone, I say, “Me?”
Ethan laughs. Loudly. It’s not at all what I expected. In all my obsessive preparations, I had never realized the scene is funny. But it’s an encouraging laugh --- they’re not he kind of guys who would laugh at you cruelly --- so I keep going.
It is all I can do to contain my nerves; it’s a strenuous effort to just hold still. And the laughs keep coming, building, from everyone now, until my final line gets the biggest laugh of all --- and we’re done.
Great, they say. “That was, uh . . . that was some good Man at Chair,” Joel says.
“I’m begging for my life here, and you’re laughing at me?” Look at me! I’m bantering with the Coen brothers!
I expect that they’ll offer some adjustments and we’ll do the scene again, but instead they say: That’s great. We won’t add to that. Thanks.
My five minutes with my heroes is already over.
In the days that immediately follow an audition, it is easy to rethink and second-guess everything you did. The only true gauge is how you felt in the moments just after leaving the room. That day after meeting the Coens, I found a Super Ball in the parking lot, and I swear, if anyone had asked me, I could have bounced as high as that ball.
As it turns out, being completely panicked and barely able to hold yourself together is actually helpful when playing a character who is also panicked and grasping for control. I got the part. In the end, I went to Santa Fe to have my day in the sun, acting alongside Stephen Root and Javier Bardem.
But my actor’s fantasy is to find success closer to home, so it is the day of the audition I truly treasure. That was the day I walked down the street and began to live my dream of being a real film actor in Austin.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Tales of the City:
Biggest fantasy for local actor? Nailing role in Coens’ audition
by Trent Moore
SPECIAL TO THE AMERICAN-STATESMAN
Part of being an actor is having ridiculous fantasies and believing they might come true. Even the most artistically pure among us have practiced an Oscar acceptance speech or taken an imaginary meeting with Steven Speilberg.
Because I live in a city known to be one of the best places to live and make movies, and because my house is close to Austin Studios, my fantasy is to casually stroll down the street to work with giants of American cinema.
It’s just a silly little pipe dream, I think, until I find myself actually making that stroll to meet Joel and Ethan Coen. After getting the call to audition for “No Country for Old Men,” the new film by two of American’s greatest filmmakers, I am beyond excited.
As an actor, you go to many an audition for deodorant ads or training films on how to use ant bait in hopes that they will lead to an audition like this one. It’s a privilege just to get a foot in the door, even though I know that, realistically, my chances of being cast are slim. But I try not to let reality get in the way as I head to Austin Studios for my first reading.
Throughout the casting agent’s office are signs warning eager actors that “LESS IS MORE,” and I know I’ll be OK. In the scene I will be reading, my character, whose name in the script is simply “Man at Chair,” sees a man gunned down and cautiously tries to talk his way out of also being killed. I have decided to play the scene while holding almost perfectly still, so the “less is more” directive suits me fine.
I go in, I audition, and I wait.
An excruciating two weeks later, a friend who also auditioned phones to tell me he has a callback, and that Joel and Ethan will be there for the second audition. I hang up and then stare at the phone for a couple of hours, begging it to ring.
Remarkably, it does. I think, “This had better be my agent telling me I have a callback.” Remarkably, it is. Just like the daydream I’ve had a thousand times, I am going to walk down the street to meet two of my favorite artists. I am, as they say, completely freaking out.
Perhaps a better person could be cool about all of this, but I cannot. I spend the next four days doing far, far too much preparation for a six-line scene. I read the Cormac McCarthy book the movie is adapted from in just a few sittings. I videotape and watch myself doing the scene in every conceivable way, including the various styles of every Coen brothers movie ever made. (Applying a “Fargo” accent to any scene always provides a fresh perspective).
I try to make up for years of physical neglect with four days of intense workouts. And I occasionally try to settle down and think about other things. But that never really happens.
Finally the morning of the audition comes. I eat some breakfast and make a futile attempt at doing some calming yoga. I go to the audition, sign in, and am called into the room.
“Hi, I’m Joel,” one of the Coens says. His brother adds, “I’m Ethan. Thanks for coming in.” I can’t help but laugh. They’re thanking me?
“Sure no problem,” I say. We start the scene. In the script, the killer named Chigurh (the part will be played by Javier Bardem, but today it’s an assitant reading from a script on a music stand) asks, “Who are you?” There’s supposed to be a long pause before the Man at Chair says the next line.
And I take a long, long pause. It is the moment before I utter the first word of the biggest audition of my life, and I’m going to savor it. My heart is in my throat.
My eyes move to the imaginary dead body, then slowly back to the killer. Finally, in a surprisingly matter of fact tone, I say, “Me?”
Ethan laughs. Loudly. It’s not at all what I expected. In all my obsessive preparations, I had never realized the scene is funny. But it’s an encouraging laugh --- they’re not he kind of guys who would laugh at you cruelly --- so I keep going.
It is all I can do to contain my nerves; it’s a strenuous effort to just hold still. And the laughs keep coming, building, from everyone now, until my final line gets the biggest laugh of all --- and we’re done.
Great, they say. “That was, uh . . . that was some good Man at Chair,” Joel says.
“I’m begging for my life here, and you’re laughing at me?” Look at me! I’m bantering with the Coen brothers!
I expect that they’ll offer some adjustments and we’ll do the scene again, but instead they say: That’s great. We won’t add to that. Thanks.
My five minutes with my heroes is already over.
In the days that immediately follow an audition, it is easy to rethink and second-guess everything you did. The only true gauge is how you felt in the moments just after leaving the room. That day after meeting the Coens, I found a Super Ball in the parking lot, and I swear, if anyone had asked me, I could have bounced as high as that ball.
As it turns out, being completely panicked and barely able to hold yourself together is actually helpful when playing a character who is also panicked and grasping for control. I got the part. In the end, I went to Santa Fe to have my day in the sun, acting alongside Stephen Root and Javier Bardem.
But my actor’s fantasy is to find success closer to home, so it is the day of the audition I truly treasure. That was the day I walked down the street and began to live my dream of being a real film actor in Austin.