It was the usual post-audition drive home down a blackened country road on a dark, crisp, wintery Sunday night: replaying my performance of Corner of the Sky over and over in my head; wondering what the artistic team thought of the reading I did for the character of Charlie Brown — as well as a reading for Linus that I was handed on the spot — and of course questioning if the team thought I blew that one as badly as I was sure I had…
So yes, it was the usual post-audition drive home.
For anyone who has ever auditioned for a theatre or musical production, this is the deal with auditioning. It’s terrifying. You put yourself out there in front of a few people sitting at a table judging your every movement, expression, pitch and tone. After weeks or months of planning, rehearsing and stressing, it’s over within minutes. And then you wait for that phone call.
In the meantime, you run it over and over in your head — what could I have done differently? Did I hit that note? Did I move with enough intent or did it look forced or awkward? Did I express the lines in the script the way the Director would have?
It was the second of two nights of auditions and callbacks were scheduled for the next evening, so I figured I’d hear back quickly one way or another — likely shortly after arriving home. After more than a month of rehearsing Corner of the Sky and Younger than Springtime during every waking hour outside of work, I tried to recharge by opening up Spotify for the drive home and just cranking something different to sing along to — The Return to the Moon album by my favourite band du jour: El Vy — as it were on this night.
About three-and-a-half songs in, the music faded, replaced immediately by a buzzing sound. The name “Melissa” — the Executive Producer — popped up on my iPhone, propped up in clear view on my dashboard in it’s holder, lit up brightly now against the darkness. This was the call.
Let’s back up. I’ve been performing in community theatre musicals for a theatre company in the Greater Toronto Area for over five years now. The story of how I even got into doing this is pretty unexpected: my son was involved as a youth performer with this company and when they were in search for more men for a production of All Shook Up in the Fall of 2013, I auditioned on a whim because it looked like it would be fun and I realized that many of the performers seemed to be, you know, regular people. I did not go to school for acting, music or dance, but am a voracious shower and car vocalist. And now, leading up to the decision to audition for the lead role of Charlie Brown in the musical You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown, I simply had the experience of performing in eight musical productions prior to January 2019.
Over those five years I had the chance to perform in and learn about various musicals and I started thinking about possible lead or supporting roles I might like to audition for someday — roles that I might be a good fit for based on my appearance and performance style. As a guy who stands at a generous height of 5’6″ and who has sort of carved out a bit of a niche in some comedic ensemble cameo roles over the years, I knew I wouldn’t be playing any Disney princes anytime soon. What roles could I envision myself portraying? For a few auditions, I had performed the song The Kite from You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown. As a kid, I really identified with that character and that song really resonated with me. It’s a great sing and a great character piece. It’s also a role that wouldn’t require a chiseled, six-foot-plus tall man to be cast for it. So, for a couple of years now, I had decided that this particular role was on my “bucket list” if this or any other local theatre group decided to produce You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown for the stage.
In the Winter of 2018, our group announced that You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown was indeed their show choice for the Spring of 2019 and right away, I set my sights on working hard to improve and putting a strategy in place so that when it was time to audition, I could put forth a worthy effort to give myself a puncher’s chance at landing the role. I asked a friend who is a Director to help choose a song to perform that was suitable for both my voice and the character and I booked several sessions with a vocal coach in the weeks prior to the audition who worked with me not only on the vocals, but helping me out with the actual performance part of the audition. I learned so much and felt more than prepared than ever as I walked in on that Sunday night to audition.
I was fairly happy with my audition, however, after reading for Charlie Brown, the Director slid a page across the table and asked me to read for Linus as well. Without having more than a minute to prepare, let’s just say I kind of butchered it. I stumbled over words and didn’t really get into that character. I just hadn’t planned to read for any role other than Charlie Brown. This was a mistake. I had prepared by reading Charlie Brown’s lines from a script, but no other characters — it’s always a possibility you’ll be asked to read for a character other than your first choice.
I didn’t know what to think. Was there another person who had the inside track for the role of Charlie Brown (very likely — I thought I was kind of a long shot anyways) and they thought I might be a good fit for Linus? If I was a serious candidate for Charlie Brown, then why would they even ask me to read for Linus? Had I lost out on both Charlie Brown and Linus and if so, would I even be cast in the show at all with only 3-4 male roles (Snoopy could be played by either a man or a woman)? This paragraph is all sounding very… Charlie Brown-like, isn’t it?
I stopped to pick up a few groceries before heading home and I just began wandering aimlessly around the store, replaying the audition over and over in my head and worrying about how this was all going to shake out. This was a great opportunity for me — I had decided I wanted the chance to play this character very badly and the thought of someone else performing The Kite and some of the other scenes on stage was upsetting. I reeeally wanted the opportunity to do it. I walked back and forth through the store completely unfocused on what I needed to get. I started to come to terms with the fact that despite working so hard and feeling like it was so close, I probably wasn’t likely to get THAT phone call.
I finally left the store, began driving home — back to that phone call…
I answered. It was Melissa, the Executive Producer.
“How’s it going?”
“Pretty good. How’s it going with you?”
“Goooood” (or something to that effect).
“So, I have news…” Melissa said, now that the awkward small talk was out of the way.
“Okaaaay…” At this point I wondered if I was about to be offered a role or if I had even been cast in the show at all — everything was on the table…
“We’d like to offer you the part of…”
“Linus”, I remember thinking, completing the sentence in my mind. I felt good now knowing I had made it into the show, but I still assumed there must have been someone else that had been cast as Charlie Brown. I felt relieved but disappointed (this all happened within about a half-second).
“Charlie Brown” Melissa said, quietly.
It’s hard to describe just how I felt when I heard her say those two words.
“What?!”
“Really? Seriously?”
I was in shock. Overwhelmed. I couldn’t believe it. I had to collect myself and pull over. I had only felt that way a handful of times in my life — working so hard for something — having a clear goal — and actually seeing it through and achieving it. All at once, it felt tremendously gratifying while also unreal and hard to believe. I would really be playing the part of Charlie Brown on a stage. The artistic team — this collection of a Director, Choreographer and Music Director — believed in me.
Melissa and I hung up and moments later, the Director, Craig, called. I auditioned for him over five years earlier for All Shook Up — that very first show. Three years earlier, he had directed Willy Wonka Jr., where he had chosen my son Brody to play the part of Charlie Bucket. My mind instantly started making these connections and them moved on to a funny one: Craig had cast both myself and my son to play lead roles named ‘Charlie’. We had some laughs about it and Craig congratulated me. He explained that no callbacks were necessary. Sure, the team had conversations and questions about the cast but they decided that a round of callbacks the next evening wouldn’t have answered all of those questions and that they might as well just make their decisions now.
For the first time, I was the first person of the cast to be called. I had reached the top of a little theatre mountain of sorts. Man…
And now it was time to tell my family. I had performed my audition songs in front of my wife Teri and daughter Ruby earlier in the day at home. Ruby had also spent time in the week leading up to the audition assisting with running lines, listening to my vocals and giving me feedback on some parts of my audition while we both made our lunches in the morning. I pulled in the driveway after 10pm after hanging up with Craig.
I walked into a darkened main floor and put away all of the groceries in the kitchen before going upstairs to our bedroom where Teri and Ruby were laying on the bed watching TV. I intentionally walked in and didn’t mention anything, making small talk for a few minutes about the show they were watching before they finally thought to ask how the audition went.
“Pretty good I think”, I responded.
“You think?”
“I’m Charlie Brown.”
“[inaudible]”
We shared some hugs and I then told them, well, pretty much the story as you’ve read above.
It truly was a very special moment. Performing in the theatre is something I have come to unexpectedly cherish in my life and for the first time I had a real goal in this new world to work towards. A world in which I had felt increasingly more confident in over the years, but I still didn’t really know if I was worthy of something like this. Apparently, I was. It was validating on many levels. I could do this. I was good enough. Hard work and passion had indeed paid off.
My mind raced and for days afterwards I was still buzzing internally about it. It was so great again a couple of days later to be able to announce it on Facebook and read so many nice messages from family, friends and some supremely talented theatre peers who seemed genuinely happy for me and might view me in a different light from now on.
It was the end of January. Rehearsals were set to start in late March. I had never done as much in a show as I was about to take on. Solos, duets, monologues – lots of stage time and focus. With two months to try to get ahead on learning my music and lines, I queued up the soundtrack and got to it…
“All I need is one more try. Gotta get that kite to fly. And I’m not the kind of guy, who gives up easily…”
