He Died with a Felafel In His Hand has now been cast.
By crumbs it was difficult - so many talented people auditioned, and I always feel terribly bad when I don't "include" people. It's like I fear them hating me for ever and ever, when in fact, it's a play, not a lifeboat off the Titanic, and actors are reasonably used to rejection.
In the end for me, it came down to gut instinct and physical appearance. Not being shallow there; but I want this play to have a good range of physical types. No point having three petite brunettes when I can have a petite brunette, a blonde bombshell and a curvy redhead (which I have; plus a curvy brunette and a olive-skinned cutie). The guys range from blokey to alternative, which is excellent.
It made me think about decision-making. I'm generally terrible at it; I'm always the last to order at a restaurant. So how do you make decisions? Do you go with guts, or write up comprehensive notes weighing the pros or cons? Do you ask people for advice, or rely totally on your own rational brain? And how different is the decision-making process between simple stuff, and IMPORTANT issues?
And a dovetail question. Felafel has its first rehearsal this coming Sunday. The cast are well-aware by now that I am reasonably insane. My tirades against "wanky actor types" and calls of "cue dildo smackdown dance number!" during the audition process has pretty much taken care of that.
But I wonder if I may be able to turn it around by adopting some sort of affectation to appear much more hip, cool and with it than I actually am. Dark sunglasses, perhaps? A skewiff tie? A large coffee, like Mark Harmon from NCIS? Herbal cigarillos? Black fingernail polish?
I'm terribly jealous I wont be there to see it (or even there to audition). Hope it all goes worlds of awesome for you!ReplyDelete
Maybe you need a "Jump to conclusions" Mat!ReplyDelete
I love the notion that you smoke herbal cigarillos. I reckon extend that. Swig constantly from a bottle of faux-bourbon that you can get a Woolworths. Then slowly get drunker and more abusive through each rehearsal.ReplyDelete
When it comes to making decisions I wait for my body to give me a strong reaction then I don't question it. Flit my eye across the menu then the moment I see something that makes me go "OH!" I stop.
If you make your best decisions at the last minute, why change your style now? (Unless your last 5 snap choices resulted in horrible deformities and family break-ups).ReplyDelete
I think a well trained talking budgie sitting on your shoulder all through rehersals would give the right "image".
An angry midget chained to your director's chair. It needs to snarl obscenities and engage in frottage with weaker cast membersReplyDelete
just turn up in the blood stained nurses outfit for the last play, with a chainsaw as an accessory.ReplyDelete
Hmmm. The blood may be fake, but it is rather sticky...ReplyDelete
The chainsaw though - me likey!
And Wah, by angry midget - are you volunteering for the position?!?!? Zing!
All good directors must wear berrets, smoke cigarettes through extra-long cigarette holders and speak in overly exaggerated French accents. ("Non, non, NON! I vill not tell zou again!"... which may, in fact, translate as German. I've always been bad with Europe).ReplyDelete
As far as decision-making goes, I've never really been too wishy-washy. I have no idea what it is, but I tend to back myself pretty hard once I've decided. I'm generally not panged by post-decision guilt or regret.
Et Tu, Clumsy? Et Tu?ReplyDelete
I said "accent" Wah. No one will understand her if she actually speaks French!
Isn't "Et tu" Latin??!!?!ReplyDelete
And yes, if I can spend most of this run molesting the "Prognosis: Death!" cast members, then I'll probably be up for some saucy shenanigans in "Felafel". ;)
Bah, Latin/French/German/Swahili. My point is being sorely missed... accent, people! Accent!ReplyDelete
Not to forget the Canvas Chair with "DIRECTOR" written across the back.ReplyDelete
The Wah as a midget chained and frothing would be ideal.
Don't forget to call everyone:
The list is endless
The more the loonier is obviously the way to go
I am a total gut instinct girl when it comes to decisions. I didn't for a long time, and made a lot of bad decisions. Let the gut kick in and I'm back on the right track.ReplyDelete
Unfortunately this evening the gut has been heaving itself forcefully out of my body. Blah.
Spare the cattle prod, spoil the actor thats what i say. I'm sure that hughsey will lend you one of hers....You never kno soem of the girls might be into it (just let me know which, before I meet the cast!!!)ReplyDelete
First (or gut) decisions are often the right one. I tend to prepare a decision, wait to see if anything changes and if it does factor that in, if not stick with the original.ReplyDelete
And now back to the Show of the momentReplyDelete
Last night thing hotted up a great deal, even though it snowed throughout the performance
Dr Mangold staggered off, a broken man.
Nurse Buble raced after him, unzipping frantically, to facilitate repairs
Dr LeStrange, fiddling at bellybutton height reeled after apparently to consumate his desire
The unanswered question in this apparent menage a tois is... did Dr Le Strange finally get consumated and...if so... who was the consumatee?
Dr Mangold experienced the exquisite joy of being groped by Nurse Buble and a chimpanzee.
The question was would Mangold's mangled ManGold ever be serviceable again?
The answer to this question was yes as Nurse Buble and Dr Mangold finally got it on.
In a wheelchair no less
Or did they...was the reality a dream or the dream reality.
Is it all, in the long run, just Freudian
Stay tuned dear listener for the penultimate episode of
Geez, I didn't realise Nurse Buble was such a floozy. Which raises the question - am I TOO much in character... or not ENOUGH?!?!?ReplyDelete
Thanks for that recap, Ancient Man - you'll be replacing David Stratton on "At the Movies" any day now. Try not to annoy Margaret Pomeranz too much. She becomes Margaret Pomeranian and bites you on the ankles.
As an answer to your Floozy question, I must point out that I was not the who had to have the word "blow" explained to me by Dr Mangold while attempting to revive the Lutheran priest last night.
Replace David Stratton
Thank you, but no thank you.
Dear Margaret would laugh once too often and, before I could stop myself, my hands would be round her neck......
Purely to cut off the sound, of course.
Is it just me or do all of you listening to Margaret's laugh and get the feeling that you are hearing the end of a car smash, just before the bang.