Play Callback Auditions
Aug 18, 2019 14:08:31 GMT -6
Post by Snick on Aug 18, 2019 14:08:31 GMT -6
Pratt stood up on the stage alone, shifting nervously. He hated auditions. Felix Fisterhoff, the guy that read for the role of Tony before him, was really good, much better than him, at least he thought so. Rehearsals and shows, he could deal with. It was the not knowing that made him anxious. Especially considering this role was opposite the role Siobhan was trying for. If Felix got the role, and Siobhan played Alice - He suddenly thought he might throw up right there.
Before Miss Buskirk called action, so to speak, he glanced off-stage to where Siobhan was peeking around the curtain, watching and quietly cheering him on. Then Miss Buskirk started the audition, reading the part of Alice.
"Now! Now, do you see what I mean?" Misty read, suppressing her accent as best as she could. "Could you explain Donald to your father? Could you explain Grandpa? You couldn’t, Tony, you couldn’t! I love you, Tony, but I love them too! And it’s no use, Tony! It’s no use!"
"There’s only one thing you’ve said that matters, that makes any sense at all," he read, then cleared his throat. "You love me."
"But Tony, I know so well…"
"But, darling," he felt odd using that word, and wondered if he could ad lib. "Don’t you think other people have had the same problem? Everybody’s got a family."
"But not like mine."
"That doesn’t stop people who love each other…" he tensed slightly, glancing sidelong at stage right. "Darling! Darling, won’t you trust me and go on loving me, and forget everything else?"
"How can I?"
"Because nothing can keep us apart. You know that. You must know it," he relaxed a bit, wishing he had read this piece before now. "They want you to be happy, don’t they? They must."
"Of course they do. But they can’t change, Tony. I wouldn’t want them to change."
"They won’t have to change. They’re charming, lovable people, just as they are," He tried to sound desperate, imagined the eventuality that Siobhan's parents would discover they were dating. Imagined having to beg her to stay with him, against her father's will. "Everything will work out…you’re worrying about something that may never come up."
"Oh, Tony, am I?"
"All that matters right now is that we... is that we love each other," he felt his chest get tight, at least this was his last line. "That’s so... isn’t it?"
"Yes," Misty clapped politely after finishing the scene. "T'ank you, Mr. Pratt. My decision will be posted tonight."
"Okay," he shuffled backstage, where he realized his fingers hurt. Pratt had been clutching his script harder than he thought.
Miss Buskirk called for the next audition from her front row seat.
Siobhan had watched both Felix and Pratt's auditions. There was no way she wanted to play opposite Felix. If Pratt didn't get the part of Tony, she'd ask to be on stage crew again. But Pratt did great. So now it was up to her to do great as well. She took a deep breath and waited for her turn.
Miss Buskirk nodded and Siobhan began, with Buskirk reading Tony.
Siobhan read, thinking of her squib brothers and sisters, and trying to explain them to an old moneyed family like Pratt's
"Now! Now, do you see what I mean? Could
you explain Donald to your father? Could you
explain Grandpa? You couldn’t, Tony, you couldn’t!
I love you, Tony, but I love them too! And it’s no
use, Tony! It’s no use!"
Miss Buskirk read her line: "There’s only one thing you’ve said that
matters, that makes any sense at all. You love me."
Siobhan looked nervous, thinking of Pratt saying that line, "But Tony, I know so well…"
Miss Buskirk sounded almost southern when she said darling "But, darling, don’t you think other people have had the same problem? Everybody’s got a family.
"But not like mine." Siobhan answered, thinking of all the squibs and the Blackthorn pub, and the array of good Irish priests who regularly stopped by for a pint and to remind them all to come to confession before mass.
Buskirk read, 'That doesn’t stop people who love each other…Darling! Darling, won’t you trust me and go on loving me, and forget everything else?'
Siobhan answered ''How can I?'' I wonder whose father is more cringe worthy? my dad or his dad?
Buskirk encouraged her, 'Because nothing can keep us apart. You know
that. You must know it. They want you to be happy,
don’t they? They must.''
Siobhan shook her head, smiling sadly, "Of course they do. But they can’t change,
Tony. I wouldn’t want them to change."
Buskirk replied ''They won’t have to change. They’re charming, lovable people, just as they are. Everything will work out…you’re worrying about something that may never come up.''
Siobhan let a drop of hope shine in her eyes and she reached for Miss Buskirk's hand, "Oh, Tony, am I?'
Buskirk asserted, 'All that matters right now is that we love each other. That’s so, isn’t it?'
Siobhan broke into a warm grin: ''Yes.'
Esther waited her turn. She was nervous. Comedy was harder than drama. And Essie? She was a bad dancer who took is seriously. Esther was a great dancer who took it seriously playing someone who couldn't dance. It was tricky.
She got into character and began the part when she was cued. She tiptoed into center stage in an exaggerated ballet style "My that kitchen's hot."
"What Essie?" read Buskirk.
She crossed to the right of the table, doing an elaborate pirouette as she did. "I said, my that kitchen's awful hot. That new candy I'm making, it just won't ever get cool."
"Do you have to make candy today?" answered her drama teacher. "It's such a hot day."
"Well, I got all those new orders," Esther explained, "Ed went out and got all those new orders," Esther began stretching her legs on the chair elaborately.
"My," read Misty, "If it keeps on, I suppose you'll be opening a store."
Esther grunted loudly as she leaned forward and touched her toes, "that's what Ed was saying last night, but I said no, I want to be a dancer."
Buskirk went on reading, "The only problem with dancing is it takes so long, You've been studying for eight years."
Esther slowly drew a leg up behind her and over her head like a tear drop as she spoke, "Only--eight--years, after all, Mother, you've been writing plays for eight years. We started at about the same time, didn't we?" She looked back through her leg at Buskirk.
Buskirk finished, "yes, but I don't count my first two years, because I was learning to type."
Esther put down her leg and took a little bow. "Thank you, Miss Buskirk."
She skipped off the stage.
Arwen moved slowly onto the stage when it have been her turn to recite the words that she had to read for the audition. She had been up late last night reading over some of the books that she checked out of the library to understand it all. She worked on breathing technics that were suppose to help someone stay calm when stressed. Once on stage she looked toward Miss Buskirk saying she was ready to start.
"Will you be seated, your Highness?" Buskirk started the reading.
"Thank you. You are most kind." Arwen said as she made sure that it seems as if seeing herself as above the rest of them and better.
"We are honored to receive you, Your Highness." The professor responded.
"I am most happy to be here. How soon is dinner?" Arwen said as she though on everything and sounding in hurry.
"Oh, it’ll be quite soon, Your Highness---very soon." Misty replied.
"I do not mean to be rude, but I must be back at the restaurant by eight o’clock. I am substituting for another waitress." Arwen states changing tone a little so not as harsh.
"I will make sure you are on time, Your Highness." Arwen heard Miss Buskirk say knowing it sounded strange since it was read by male normally.
"Thank you, Kolenkhov." Arwen states smiling toward their teacher that was reading.
"You know, Highness, I think you waited on me in Child’s once. The 72nd Street place?" Miss Buskirk said.
"No, no. That was my sister." Arwen repeated wondering what it would have been like to actually have a sister. She knew that thuis was going to be the hardest part would ne thinking about siblings.
"The Grand Duchess Natasha." Misty read.
"I work in Times Square." Arwen answered knowing that
"Oh!"
"Quite a lot of your folks living here now, aren’t there?"
"Oh yes---many. My uncle, the Grand Duke Sergei---he is an elevator man at Macy’s. A very nice man. Then there’s my cousin, Prince Alexis. He will not speak to the rest of us because he works at Hattie Carnegie. He is in lady’s underwear." Arwen smiled as she started to talk all about the different things that the dukes and things were doing from the play.
"When he was selling hot dogs at Coney Island he was willing to talk to you."
"Ah, Kolenkhov, our time is coming. My sister, Natasha, is studying to be a manicurist, Uncle Sergei they have promised to make floor walker, and next month I get transferred to the Fifth Avenue 17 Child’s. From there it is only a step to Schrafft’s, and then we will see what Prince Alexis says!" Arwen started to brag since even though their life was not a fancy as it was in Russia they were starting to make a name for self.
Arwen finished the reading then smiled towards Miss. Buskirk. "Thank you."
She then moved to walk of the stage believing that she had done well.
Once Arwen had finished her reading, Makepeace walked out onto the stage. "Ready when you are, Miss Buskirk."
"You sure do tickle Rheba, Mr. Kolenkhov. She’s laughing her head off out there."
Makepeace could ham it up with a very stereotypical Russian accent, complete with replacing his V's with W's, but instead, he chose to play it mostly straight, although he did crank up his own natural accent a few notches. "She is a great woman… Donald, what do you think of the Soviet Government?"
"The what, Mr. Kolenkhov?"
"I withdraw the question." Makepeace responded with a furrowed brow, waving it off. "What do you think of this government?" He asked, pointing at the ground.
"Oh, I like it fine. I’m on relief, you know."
"Oh, yes. And you like it?"
"Yassuh, it’s fine. Only thing is you got to go round to the place every week to get it, and
sometimes you got to stand in line pretty near half an hour. Government ought to be run better than that -- don’t you think, Grandpa?"
Buskirk subtly changed her voice and began reading Grandpa's line, as well. "Government ought to stop sending me letters. Want me to be at the United States Marshal’s office Tuesday morning at ten o’clock. Look at that."
"Ah! Income tax!" Makepeace replied, trying to pull off mild outrage and incredulity. "They have got you, Grandpa."
"Mm. I’m supposed to give ‘em a lot of money so as to keep Donald on relief."
"You don’t say, Grandpa? You going to pay it from now on?" Buskirk went on to read in Donald's voice.
She switched back to Grandpa and replied to herself, "That’s what they want." In fact, Makepeace didn't have anything to say for a few more lines, and just cocked his head and remained thoughtful and attentive throughout it, trying to channel the motivation of a Russian expatriate with Fatherland issues.
"You mean I can come right here and get it instead of standing in that line?"
"No, Donald. I’m afraid you will have to waste a full half hour of your time every week."
"Well, I don’t like it. It breaks up my week."
"He should have been in Russia when the Revolution came. Then he would have stood in
line. A bread line." Makepeace read, assuming the attitude of the sort of person who smugly assumes that they're suffering worse than anyone else in the room and yet appear to be loving every minute of it. "Ah, Grandpa, what they have done to Russia? Think of it! The Grand Duchess Olga Katrina, a cousin of the Czar, she is a waitress in Childs’ Restaurant! I ordered baked beans from her, only yesterday. It broke my heart. A crazy world, Grandpa."
"Oh, the world’s not so crazy, Kolenkhov. It’s the people in it. Life’s pretty simple if you just
relax."
"How can you relax in times like these?" Makepeace asked sharply.
"Well, if they’d relax there wouldn’t be times like these. That’s just my point. Life is kind of beautiful if you let it come to you. But the trouble is, people forget that. I know I did. I was right in the thick of it; fighting and scratching and clawing. Regular jungle. One day it just kind of struck me, I wasn’t having any fun."
"So you did what?"
"Just relaxed. Thirty-five years ago, that was. And I’ve been a happy man ever since."
Miss Buskirk finished. Makepeace folded the script and stuffed it into his back pocket, trying to tell what the woman might have thought of his reading, but he had no read on the woman, and just said, "Uh, thanks." And then he moved offstage.
Rebecca waited for what seemed like a lifetime to get on the stage, but she was more than ready. Especially after seeing the bland performance of Candace Cain (horrible parents, naming their child that) as she tried for the part of Penny. While waiting, she did vocal exercises, loosening up her throat and working her diaphragm so she can project her voice well. Passing the other girl without so much as a glance, she walked onto the stage, sat at the desk, and waited for Miss Buskirk to begin.
"She’s going, Penny," Miss Buskirk begins, playing the part of Paul.
"Yes," Rebecca says softly, is quiet for a moment, then starts softly sobbing.
"Now, now, Penny," Misty says consolingly. Rebecca imagines being patted on the back.
"I can’t help it, Paul. Somehow I feel it’s our fault," she says, wiping away pretend tears and sniffling.
"It’s mine more than yours, Penny. All these years I’ve just been---going along, enjoying myself, when maybe I should have been thinking more about Alice. "
"Don’t say that, Paul," her head shook, her whole face frowned, her voice cracked a little. "You’ve been a wonderful father. And husband, too. "
"No, I haven’t. Maybe if I’d gone ahead and been an architect---I don’t know---something Alice could have been proud of. I felt that all last night, looking at Mr. Kirby."
"But we’ve been so happy, Paul," Rebecca furrowed her brow, as if in disbelief.
"I know, but maybe that’s not enough. I used to think it was, but---I’m kind of all mixed up now."
"What time is she going?" she asked, after a pause where she pretended to think and suddenly have an idea.
"Pretty soon. Train leaves at half past seven."
"Oh, if only she’d see Tony," she sighed sadly. "I’m sure he could persuade her."
"But she won’t, Penny. He’s been trying all day."
"Where is he now?" Rebecca seemed hopeful, ready to jump up and go fetch Tony at the drop of a hat.
"I don’t know---I suppose walking around the block again. Anyhow, she won’t talk to him."
"Maybe Tony can catch her as she’s leaving," her hope was dwindling, but she was clinging to it like a lifeline.
"It won’t help, Penny," Miss Buskirk sounded exhasperated, hopeless.
Resigned, Rebecca slumped and sighed, shaking her head with defeat. "No, I don’t suppose so…I feel so sorry for Tony, too."
With the audition piece over, she sprang up, smiling a bit arrogantly. "Thanks, Miss Buskirk," she pushed the chair back up to the desk and disappeared behind the curtain, confident she'd gotten the part, even if the teacher wore an unreadable expression.
Jonathan stepped out onto the stage and selected a good spot to begin the audition piece. As soon as Miss Buskirk indicated he was to begin he immediately pretended he was carefully tapping out a tune on a xylophone. After a few seconds he looked straight at Miss Buskirk.
"Essie!" He calls out eagerly. "Heh! Essie!"
"I like that, Ed. Did you write it?" Miss Buskirk replies.
"No, Beethoven." Jonathan replies, his voice slightly more lively and with a tinge of humor, like life to him was always a laugh. It's the voice Jonathan felt fit Ed the best.
"Lovely. Got a lot of you in it…I made those new candies this afternoon, Ed."
"Yah?" He says, smiling brightly at Miss Buzkirk. Jonathan knew a few pretty witches have auditioned for this part, including Esther Black. She was quite beautiful. He certainly hoped she won the part of Essie.
"You can take ‘em around tonight."
"All right…Now, here’s the finish. This is me." Jonathan once more played 'air xylophone' to demonstrate he was playing an instrument. He gave a little flourish as though he flipped one of the little hammers into the air an caught it. "How’s that?"
"That’s fine. Remember it when Kolenkhov comes, will you?" Miss Buskirk inquired.
"Ed, dear. Why don’t you and Essie have a baby? I was thinking about it just the other day." Miss Buskirk slightly changed her voice to indicate she was now talking as Penny.
"I don’t know---we could have one if you wanted us to." Jonathan moved his eye line as though looking at a different person. He grinned eagerly. "What about it, Essie? Do you want to have a baby?"
"Oh, I don’t care. I’m willing if Grandpa is."
"Let’s ask him." Jonathan asks but he was hard pressed not to burst out laughing. The way the lines went it sounded like Essie was implying Grandpa would be the one to give her a baby. Fortunately Jonathan didn't let his inner amusement distract him from his lines.
"Labor play, religious play, sex play---I know it’s here someplace." Miss Buskirk continued as Penny.
"I was right about the balloon. It was too close to the powder." A slightly different tone came into Miss Buskirk's voice as she switched to read De Pinna's line.
"Anything you want printed, Mr. De Pinna?" Jonathan asked, his Ed voice cheerful and eager to help. "How about some more calling cards?"
"No, thanks. I’ve still got the first thousand."
"Well, call on somebody, will you?" He replied, adding a little irritation to Ed's normally cheerful voice. The guy has to earn money after all. Jonathan was enjoying the scene.
"All right!" Miss Buskirk replied firmly.
"What have we got for dinner, Rheba? I’m ready to print the menu." He once more picked a random spot and pretended he was addressing the servant Rheba.
"Let’s see. Corn flakes, watermelon, some of these candies Miss Essie made, and some kind of meat---I forget." Miss Biskirk replies, using her own voice for this part.
"I think I’ll set it up in bold face Cheltenham tonight." Jonathan tapped his chin with his finger in thought. "You know, if I’m going to take those new candies around I’d better print up some descriptive matter after dinner."
"Do you think anybody reads those things, Ed---that you put in the candy boxes?...Oh, here’s the war play. “Poison Gas.” I guess that’s Donald. Look at Rheba smile." Miss Buskirk used a small bell in her hand to simulate a door bell right after she said 'poison gas'.
"The boyfriend, eh, Rheba?" Jonathan gave a wink to his imaginary Rheba.
"Very good, you may go." Miss Buskirk said, signifying the end of the audition. Jonathan gave a dramatic bow and strolled out the back of the stage, flashing a confident grin at the other wizard waiting to try for the part. Jonathan was confident he gained the part.
Before Miss Buskirk called action, so to speak, he glanced off-stage to where Siobhan was peeking around the curtain, watching and quietly cheering him on. Then Miss Buskirk started the audition, reading the part of Alice.
"Now! Now, do you see what I mean?" Misty read, suppressing her accent as best as she could. "Could you explain Donald to your father? Could you explain Grandpa? You couldn’t, Tony, you couldn’t! I love you, Tony, but I love them too! And it’s no use, Tony! It’s no use!"
"There’s only one thing you’ve said that matters, that makes any sense at all," he read, then cleared his throat. "You love me."
"But Tony, I know so well…"
"But, darling," he felt odd using that word, and wondered if he could ad lib. "Don’t you think other people have had the same problem? Everybody’s got a family."
"But not like mine."
"That doesn’t stop people who love each other…" he tensed slightly, glancing sidelong at stage right. "Darling! Darling, won’t you trust me and go on loving me, and forget everything else?"
"How can I?"
"Because nothing can keep us apart. You know that. You must know it," he relaxed a bit, wishing he had read this piece before now. "They want you to be happy, don’t they? They must."
"Of course they do. But they can’t change, Tony. I wouldn’t want them to change."
"They won’t have to change. They’re charming, lovable people, just as they are," He tried to sound desperate, imagined the eventuality that Siobhan's parents would discover they were dating. Imagined having to beg her to stay with him, against her father's will. "Everything will work out…you’re worrying about something that may never come up."
"Oh, Tony, am I?"
"All that matters right now is that we... is that we love each other," he felt his chest get tight, at least this was his last line. "That’s so... isn’t it?"
"Yes," Misty clapped politely after finishing the scene. "T'ank you, Mr. Pratt. My decision will be posted tonight."
"Okay," he shuffled backstage, where he realized his fingers hurt. Pratt had been clutching his script harder than he thought.
Miss Buskirk called for the next audition from her front row seat.
Siobhan had watched both Felix and Pratt's auditions. There was no way she wanted to play opposite Felix. If Pratt didn't get the part of Tony, she'd ask to be on stage crew again. But Pratt did great. So now it was up to her to do great as well. She took a deep breath and waited for her turn.
Miss Buskirk nodded and Siobhan began, with Buskirk reading Tony.
Siobhan read, thinking of her squib brothers and sisters, and trying to explain them to an old moneyed family like Pratt's
"Now! Now, do you see what I mean? Could
you explain Donald to your father? Could you
explain Grandpa? You couldn’t, Tony, you couldn’t!
I love you, Tony, but I love them too! And it’s no
use, Tony! It’s no use!"
Miss Buskirk read her line: "There’s only one thing you’ve said that
matters, that makes any sense at all. You love me."
Siobhan looked nervous, thinking of Pratt saying that line, "But Tony, I know so well…"
Miss Buskirk sounded almost southern when she said darling "But, darling, don’t you think other people have had the same problem? Everybody’s got a family.
"But not like mine." Siobhan answered, thinking of all the squibs and the Blackthorn pub, and the array of good Irish priests who regularly stopped by for a pint and to remind them all to come to confession before mass.
Buskirk read, 'That doesn’t stop people who love each other…Darling! Darling, won’t you trust me and go on loving me, and forget everything else?'
Siobhan answered ''How can I?'' I wonder whose father is more cringe worthy? my dad or his dad?
Buskirk encouraged her, 'Because nothing can keep us apart. You know
that. You must know it. They want you to be happy,
don’t they? They must.''
Siobhan shook her head, smiling sadly, "Of course they do. But they can’t change,
Tony. I wouldn’t want them to change."
Buskirk replied ''They won’t have to change. They’re charming, lovable people, just as they are. Everything will work out…you’re worrying about something that may never come up.''
Siobhan let a drop of hope shine in her eyes and she reached for Miss Buskirk's hand, "Oh, Tony, am I?'
Buskirk asserted, 'All that matters right now is that we love each other. That’s so, isn’t it?'
Siobhan broke into a warm grin: ''Yes.'
Esther waited her turn. She was nervous. Comedy was harder than drama. And Essie? She was a bad dancer who took is seriously. Esther was a great dancer who took it seriously playing someone who couldn't dance. It was tricky.
She got into character and began the part when she was cued. She tiptoed into center stage in an exaggerated ballet style "My that kitchen's hot."
"What Essie?" read Buskirk.
She crossed to the right of the table, doing an elaborate pirouette as she did. "I said, my that kitchen's awful hot. That new candy I'm making, it just won't ever get cool."
"Do you have to make candy today?" answered her drama teacher. "It's such a hot day."
"Well, I got all those new orders," Esther explained, "Ed went out and got all those new orders," Esther began stretching her legs on the chair elaborately.
"My," read Misty, "If it keeps on, I suppose you'll be opening a store."
Esther grunted loudly as she leaned forward and touched her toes, "that's what Ed was saying last night, but I said no, I want to be a dancer."
Buskirk went on reading, "The only problem with dancing is it takes so long, You've been studying for eight years."
Esther slowly drew a leg up behind her and over her head like a tear drop as she spoke, "Only--eight--years, after all, Mother, you've been writing plays for eight years. We started at about the same time, didn't we?" She looked back through her leg at Buskirk.
Buskirk finished, "yes, but I don't count my first two years, because I was learning to type."
Esther put down her leg and took a little bow. "Thank you, Miss Buskirk."
She skipped off the stage.
Arwen moved slowly onto the stage when it have been her turn to recite the words that she had to read for the audition. She had been up late last night reading over some of the books that she checked out of the library to understand it all. She worked on breathing technics that were suppose to help someone stay calm when stressed. Once on stage she looked toward Miss Buskirk saying she was ready to start.
"Will you be seated, your Highness?" Buskirk started the reading.
"Thank you. You are most kind." Arwen said as she made sure that it seems as if seeing herself as above the rest of them and better.
"We are honored to receive you, Your Highness." The professor responded.
"I am most happy to be here. How soon is dinner?" Arwen said as she though on everything and sounding in hurry.
"Oh, it’ll be quite soon, Your Highness---very soon." Misty replied.
"I do not mean to be rude, but I must be back at the restaurant by eight o’clock. I am substituting for another waitress." Arwen states changing tone a little so not as harsh.
"I will make sure you are on time, Your Highness." Arwen heard Miss Buskirk say knowing it sounded strange since it was read by male normally.
"Thank you, Kolenkhov." Arwen states smiling toward their teacher that was reading.
"You know, Highness, I think you waited on me in Child’s once. The 72nd Street place?" Miss Buskirk said.
"No, no. That was my sister." Arwen repeated wondering what it would have been like to actually have a sister. She knew that thuis was going to be the hardest part would ne thinking about siblings.
"The Grand Duchess Natasha." Misty read.
"I work in Times Square." Arwen answered knowing that
"Oh!"
"Quite a lot of your folks living here now, aren’t there?"
"Oh yes---many. My uncle, the Grand Duke Sergei---he is an elevator man at Macy’s. A very nice man. Then there’s my cousin, Prince Alexis. He will not speak to the rest of us because he works at Hattie Carnegie. He is in lady’s underwear." Arwen smiled as she started to talk all about the different things that the dukes and things were doing from the play.
"When he was selling hot dogs at Coney Island he was willing to talk to you."
"Ah, Kolenkhov, our time is coming. My sister, Natasha, is studying to be a manicurist, Uncle Sergei they have promised to make floor walker, and next month I get transferred to the Fifth Avenue 17 Child’s. From there it is only a step to Schrafft’s, and then we will see what Prince Alexis says!" Arwen started to brag since even though their life was not a fancy as it was in Russia they were starting to make a name for self.
Arwen finished the reading then smiled towards Miss. Buskirk. "Thank you."
She then moved to walk of the stage believing that she had done well.
Once Arwen had finished her reading, Makepeace walked out onto the stage. "Ready when you are, Miss Buskirk."
"You sure do tickle Rheba, Mr. Kolenkhov. She’s laughing her head off out there."
Makepeace could ham it up with a very stereotypical Russian accent, complete with replacing his V's with W's, but instead, he chose to play it mostly straight, although he did crank up his own natural accent a few notches. "She is a great woman… Donald, what do you think of the Soviet Government?"
"The what, Mr. Kolenkhov?"
"I withdraw the question." Makepeace responded with a furrowed brow, waving it off. "What do you think of this government?" He asked, pointing at the ground.
"Oh, I like it fine. I’m on relief, you know."
"Oh, yes. And you like it?"
"Yassuh, it’s fine. Only thing is you got to go round to the place every week to get it, and
sometimes you got to stand in line pretty near half an hour. Government ought to be run better than that -- don’t you think, Grandpa?"
Buskirk subtly changed her voice and began reading Grandpa's line, as well. "Government ought to stop sending me letters. Want me to be at the United States Marshal’s office Tuesday morning at ten o’clock. Look at that."
"Ah! Income tax!" Makepeace replied, trying to pull off mild outrage and incredulity. "They have got you, Grandpa."
"Mm. I’m supposed to give ‘em a lot of money so as to keep Donald on relief."
"You don’t say, Grandpa? You going to pay it from now on?" Buskirk went on to read in Donald's voice.
She switched back to Grandpa and replied to herself, "That’s what they want." In fact, Makepeace didn't have anything to say for a few more lines, and just cocked his head and remained thoughtful and attentive throughout it, trying to channel the motivation of a Russian expatriate with Fatherland issues.
"You mean I can come right here and get it instead of standing in that line?"
"No, Donald. I’m afraid you will have to waste a full half hour of your time every week."
"Well, I don’t like it. It breaks up my week."
"He should have been in Russia when the Revolution came. Then he would have stood in
line. A bread line." Makepeace read, assuming the attitude of the sort of person who smugly assumes that they're suffering worse than anyone else in the room and yet appear to be loving every minute of it. "Ah, Grandpa, what they have done to Russia? Think of it! The Grand Duchess Olga Katrina, a cousin of the Czar, she is a waitress in Childs’ Restaurant! I ordered baked beans from her, only yesterday. It broke my heart. A crazy world, Grandpa."
"Oh, the world’s not so crazy, Kolenkhov. It’s the people in it. Life’s pretty simple if you just
relax."
"How can you relax in times like these?" Makepeace asked sharply.
"Well, if they’d relax there wouldn’t be times like these. That’s just my point. Life is kind of beautiful if you let it come to you. But the trouble is, people forget that. I know I did. I was right in the thick of it; fighting and scratching and clawing. Regular jungle. One day it just kind of struck me, I wasn’t having any fun."
"So you did what?"
"Just relaxed. Thirty-five years ago, that was. And I’ve been a happy man ever since."
Miss Buskirk finished. Makepeace folded the script and stuffed it into his back pocket, trying to tell what the woman might have thought of his reading, but he had no read on the woman, and just said, "Uh, thanks." And then he moved offstage.
Rebecca waited for what seemed like a lifetime to get on the stage, but she was more than ready. Especially after seeing the bland performance of Candace Cain (horrible parents, naming their child that) as she tried for the part of Penny. While waiting, she did vocal exercises, loosening up her throat and working her diaphragm so she can project her voice well. Passing the other girl without so much as a glance, she walked onto the stage, sat at the desk, and waited for Miss Buskirk to begin.
"She’s going, Penny," Miss Buskirk begins, playing the part of Paul.
"Yes," Rebecca says softly, is quiet for a moment, then starts softly sobbing.
"Now, now, Penny," Misty says consolingly. Rebecca imagines being patted on the back.
"I can’t help it, Paul. Somehow I feel it’s our fault," she says, wiping away pretend tears and sniffling.
"It’s mine more than yours, Penny. All these years I’ve just been---going along, enjoying myself, when maybe I should have been thinking more about Alice. "
"Don’t say that, Paul," her head shook, her whole face frowned, her voice cracked a little. "You’ve been a wonderful father. And husband, too. "
"No, I haven’t. Maybe if I’d gone ahead and been an architect---I don’t know---something Alice could have been proud of. I felt that all last night, looking at Mr. Kirby."
"But we’ve been so happy, Paul," Rebecca furrowed her brow, as if in disbelief.
"I know, but maybe that’s not enough. I used to think it was, but---I’m kind of all mixed up now."
"What time is she going?" she asked, after a pause where she pretended to think and suddenly have an idea.
"Pretty soon. Train leaves at half past seven."
"Oh, if only she’d see Tony," she sighed sadly. "I’m sure he could persuade her."
"But she won’t, Penny. He’s been trying all day."
"Where is he now?" Rebecca seemed hopeful, ready to jump up and go fetch Tony at the drop of a hat.
"I don’t know---I suppose walking around the block again. Anyhow, she won’t talk to him."
"Maybe Tony can catch her as she’s leaving," her hope was dwindling, but she was clinging to it like a lifeline.
"It won’t help, Penny," Miss Buskirk sounded exhasperated, hopeless.
Resigned, Rebecca slumped and sighed, shaking her head with defeat. "No, I don’t suppose so…I feel so sorry for Tony, too."
With the audition piece over, she sprang up, smiling a bit arrogantly. "Thanks, Miss Buskirk," she pushed the chair back up to the desk and disappeared behind the curtain, confident she'd gotten the part, even if the teacher wore an unreadable expression.
Jonathan stepped out onto the stage and selected a good spot to begin the audition piece. As soon as Miss Buskirk indicated he was to begin he immediately pretended he was carefully tapping out a tune on a xylophone. After a few seconds he looked straight at Miss Buskirk.
"Essie!" He calls out eagerly. "Heh! Essie!"
"I like that, Ed. Did you write it?" Miss Buskirk replies.
"No, Beethoven." Jonathan replies, his voice slightly more lively and with a tinge of humor, like life to him was always a laugh. It's the voice Jonathan felt fit Ed the best.
"Lovely. Got a lot of you in it…I made those new candies this afternoon, Ed."
"Yah?" He says, smiling brightly at Miss Buzkirk. Jonathan knew a few pretty witches have auditioned for this part, including Esther Black. She was quite beautiful. He certainly hoped she won the part of Essie.
"You can take ‘em around tonight."
"All right…Now, here’s the finish. This is me." Jonathan once more played 'air xylophone' to demonstrate he was playing an instrument. He gave a little flourish as though he flipped one of the little hammers into the air an caught it. "How’s that?"
"That’s fine. Remember it when Kolenkhov comes, will you?" Miss Buskirk inquired.
"Ed, dear. Why don’t you and Essie have a baby? I was thinking about it just the other day." Miss Buskirk slightly changed her voice to indicate she was now talking as Penny.
"I don’t know---we could have one if you wanted us to." Jonathan moved his eye line as though looking at a different person. He grinned eagerly. "What about it, Essie? Do you want to have a baby?"
"Oh, I don’t care. I’m willing if Grandpa is."
"Let’s ask him." Jonathan asks but he was hard pressed not to burst out laughing. The way the lines went it sounded like Essie was implying Grandpa would be the one to give her a baby. Fortunately Jonathan didn't let his inner amusement distract him from his lines.
"Labor play, religious play, sex play---I know it’s here someplace." Miss Buskirk continued as Penny.
"I was right about the balloon. It was too close to the powder." A slightly different tone came into Miss Buskirk's voice as she switched to read De Pinna's line.
"Anything you want printed, Mr. De Pinna?" Jonathan asked, his Ed voice cheerful and eager to help. "How about some more calling cards?"
"No, thanks. I’ve still got the first thousand."
"Well, call on somebody, will you?" He replied, adding a little irritation to Ed's normally cheerful voice. The guy has to earn money after all. Jonathan was enjoying the scene.
"All right!" Miss Buskirk replied firmly.
"What have we got for dinner, Rheba? I’m ready to print the menu." He once more picked a random spot and pretended he was addressing the servant Rheba.
"Let’s see. Corn flakes, watermelon, some of these candies Miss Essie made, and some kind of meat---I forget." Miss Biskirk replies, using her own voice for this part.
"I think I’ll set it up in bold face Cheltenham tonight." Jonathan tapped his chin with his finger in thought. "You know, if I’m going to take those new candies around I’d better print up some descriptive matter after dinner."
"Do you think anybody reads those things, Ed---that you put in the candy boxes?...Oh, here’s the war play. “Poison Gas.” I guess that’s Donald. Look at Rheba smile." Miss Buskirk used a small bell in her hand to simulate a door bell right after she said 'poison gas'.
"The boyfriend, eh, Rheba?" Jonathan gave a wink to his imaginary Rheba.
"Very good, you may go." Miss Buskirk said, signifying the end of the audition. Jonathan gave a dramatic bow and strolled out the back of the stage, flashing a confident grin at the other wizard waiting to try for the part. Jonathan was confident he gained the part.
