When I first auditioned for the University of Arkansas production of West Side Story, I wasn’t quite sure I would even get into the production, let alone score a part that would offer me the opportunity to stand out as a key player in the show. For all I knew, if I were to even get cast at all, through some miraculous act of God, it would be something in the vein of “gang member #4” and that’s about it. And even more precisely, “Shark gang member #4” -- because of my Vietnamese/Korean ethnic background, I assumed that it was only logical that I was more likely to be cast as a Puerto Rican Shark member over that of a Caucasian Jet member. It wasn’t until later that I found out that the vision for the play was to be set in modern times with no focus on race, gender, or sexual preference (which meant that not only could I, a Vietnamese/Korean guy, possibly get the part of a Caucasian gang member, I could even be an Indian female homosexual and still get the same part). Yay for modern tolerance to all things politically correct.
The audition was a nerve wrecking one, primarily because I had never auditioned for a part in a play before, let alone one of this caliber. My wife, Amy, and I had talked about auditioning for the first time that year but I never really fully committed to the idea until about a few weeks prior to the audition date. Amy had been rehearsing all summer, memorizing Helena’s monologue for A Midsummer Night’s Dream, in which the University was also putting on for the 2006/2007 production year. She was more nervous than I was, not having as much experience onstage as I have had (being in drama classes in high school and about five plus years fronting two different punk/ska bands in the late 90’s) but for some reason she was more sure that she was going to audition than I was. I guess my thinking was, “Where the hell am I going to find the time to devote to being in a play like West Side?” But something happened that last month of the audition dates that I don’t entirely recall. I just vaguely remember working with Amy on her monologue (which she had memorized perfectly and had worked up a genuinely sincere rendition of the character, which I adored and was very supportive of) and then something she said, or something we spoke about made me decide that I needed to get my ass in gear and begin memorizing a monologue of my own.
In the mid-90’s, I had pursued my interest in acting by signing up with a local modeling/acting agency. During that four or five month stint, I had the opportunity to learn to walk and talk like a model (which was the main focus of the agency. I think the “acting” part was to draw in butt-ugly morons like me who had no interest in modeling but would be willing to shell out the clams for the acting side of the program) and even “acted” in a fund-raiser fashion show (which was presented at the Walton Art Center, on the very same stage I would later get to reunite with for West Side, nearly a decade later) and later competed in Los Angeles in the IMTA modeling/acting competition, where I scored the attention of a few acting agencies (primarily for my comedic monologues. No one really seemed interested in my dramatic acting or my faux singing talent) but in the end had to decline due to how much it would cost me to move to L.A.
After the competition was over, I realized what I had picked out for my dramatic monologue was pretty stupid (a little piece I had written myself at the last minute because my instructor did not care for my attempt at using an excerpt from “Green Eggs and Ham” for my dramatic monologue. Seriously) and wish I had chosen something else. While watching Sam Raimi’s The Quick and the Dead I got really attached to a scene where Gene Hackman’s bad-guy mayor is scolding the town folk for trying to hire a gunmen to kill him during a shootist’s competition. After hearing his speech on how he was the local badass there and how whether anyone in that town would live to see another day was entirely up to him, I told myself how much I wish I had used that for my dramatic monologue instead of my cheap attempt at soap opera style yapping about a gay son trying to get his parents’ acceptance through crying and singing a song that they had sung together when he was young (like I said, stupid). It was that year when Amy and I took the leap of faith into the lion’s den of University drama productions that I had the chance to revisit the dramatic monologue and this time I wasn’t going to miss out on channeling Gene Hackman’s fury into my performance.
When we arrived at the audition, we could hear just outside the doors someone belting out the high pitched chords of West Side’s “I Feel Pretty” -- which actually made us feel pretty nervous. We filled out our applications and then sat quietly outside the doors for our chances to make fools of ourselves.
A few minutes later, our names get called and fortunately, we are allowed to go in at the same time, which helped because Amy and I were so scared to have to go in by ourselves. This way, we could at least be in the room together to watch each other succeed or more precisely, Amy could watch me look stupid on stage.
The audition took place in the University Theater. As we entered, we saw the brightly lit stage where a girl was just completing her monologue and was about to go into her short musical snippet. Did I mention that anyone interested in trying out for West Side not only had to do a short monologue but also sing a few bars of a song? Amy didn’t have to worry about this since she was only interested in scoring a role in a non-musical, while I was only interested in getting into West Side. Which reminds me of why I was so obsessed with being a part of this production.
Back in 1991, I saw West Side Story for the first time in Repertory Theater class. I was in the twelfth grade and had been asked to join this high level drama class on the basic merit of having been seen doing ridiculously bold performances in front of the school year after year for either Springfest or the Student Council elections (always a campaign manager, never a candidate) or just in the senior commons outside the lunch room. The drama teacher said that she saw a “ham at heart” and believed I would be perfect for theater and overrode the prerequisites normally required to be in Repertory. Anywho, as part of the learning, we sat through versions of Sweeny Todd (with a devilishly evil Angela Landsbury playing the butcher that hacked up Sweeny Todd’s poor victims) to The Importance of Being Ernest and to West Side, West Side being my favorite because I just couldn’t get over how cool it was to see these serious gang members dancing and singing between street arguments and rumbles. It later became the inspiration for a stupid little home video I made with my friends called “Gayz in the Hood” which was a cross between Boyz in the Hood and West Side Story (you can imagine how bad that little short film was). Later, when I ran across a WSS cover album by a punk band called “Schlong” I was determined to make a punk rock version of the movie with a bunch of traditional Skinheads (the non-racist kind) and Nazi Skinheads in place of the Jets and Sharks but in the end, my vision was too ambitious for my group of friends and our budget. And no one really wanted to keep their head shaved for that long since I was expecting the movie to take about 6 months to film. That was the last time I considered being involved in a production of WSS because what were the chances of me ever going to Broadway and getting involved or West Side coming to Northwest Arkansas and actually needing local people to audition for the part?
Back to present day, 2007. The audition coordinator at the door asked Amy and me who wanted to volunteer to go first. Amy, being a bit more nervous than I was, opted to go second, which I was cool with. I walked to the front of the room (Amy waited “on deck” in the back row) and handed my music snippet to the young lady upfront. Once the stage was clear, she got onstage and announced me and what I would be doing (a dramatic monologue followed by a musical segment) and then I was on. My heart was beating pretty quickly (even after all of my years of hamming it up on stage, I still get those initial butterflies in my stomach just before performing). The lights shining onto the stage were so bright I couldn’t make out anyone in the seats but I knew that somewhere about thirty feet in front of me were the three “judges” who I had only seen the backs of their heads prior to getting on stage. I took a deep breath and let it all out.
After I completed the second half of my audition (the song segment) I thanked the judges and left stage left (or right. I still forget which is which) and immediately left the room, assuming that I was supposed to do that. I had wanted to stay to watch Amy but I got this feeling that the audition group didn’t want people hanging about in the theater if they were not waiting in line to audition themselves.
Back out in the lobby, after a long moment of silence, I could begin to make out Amy’s voice. Her delivery was soft and sweet, just as she had always done it at home, and I was proud to know that at that moment, she was finally onstage and was going through a real audition for the first time. We both agreed that regardless if either of us got a part, we would celebrate the fact that we were brave enough to even audition. A few minutes more, Amy was done and I saw her exiting through the same doors that I had just rushed through a few moments prior,
We both felt pretty good about the fact that we had gone through the audition and agreed that we would both just pray for each other and would continue auditioning in the future now that we have gotten the first scary audition out of the way.
Outside, Amy explained to me the events of what happened while I was onstage, all of the reactions that I missed due to the bright lights and my rushing out of the room so quickly. She said that my dramatic monologue was very strong and intimidating, just like I always am. I apparently do mean and intimidating really well (hence why when I am paying for something at a clothing store, the girls behind the checkout counter always look like they are about to cry when asking me for my debit card. I am trying not to be so scary now and am getting better at it). But the part that was amazing for her was when I went from angry, mean mayor of the old west into a manic rendition of ALL of the characters of the last few bars of “Gee, Officer Krupke” from West Side. She said that when it got to the part when different characters would sing individual lines, my mimicking of different voices to portray the different characters made the judges laugh and left my audition on such a high note that one of the judges actually had to stop Amy from going on stage in order to get up and compose himself. A part of me still wonders if that judge simply had to go to the bathroom or something but regardless, I always felt bad because if I were the reason why they had to make Amy wait before going on, I feel like my doing so was a distraction for her and may have made her more nervous than she would have been if she didn’t have to sit back down and wait for a few moments to go on. But it’s okay because she was proud to see that I could still get that kind of reaction from people.
The next few days were an interesting few days. Amy and I continued living our lives as we always did but now we would stop on occasion to discuss the auditioning experience and query whether or not we would get a callback. It was easier for me to check because I could log on to the University site to check if a posting had been done. As for Amy, she could only check when she was up on campus but since we lived about 40 minutes away, it wasn’t as easy. Eventually the day came and our nervous waiting had ended.
According the online roster, it appeared that I did not in fact get chosen for any of the bigger roles (I was interested in either being Riff or Bernardo) but I did get on the list for potential smaller roles (Gladhand, Schrank, Krupke, or one of many gang members) and, thus, my first callback. Unfortunately, I also found the callbacks for Midsummer up at the University and I did not see Amy’s name on the list. She was so sad when I told her but even through her tears, she was able to express excitement in my getting a callback, um, call. Of course, looking back, a part of me still wonders if pretty much everyone who did not get chosen for a major role but showed interest in West Side (which Amy did not select on her application) got on the first callback list. I hate to be cynical about this part but seeing how many people were on that list, I still can’t help but wonder if my hunch was correct.
The first callback was worse for me than the initial audition. When I learned that it would be a movement audition, I began having second thoughts. Of course I knew that if I was going to be in West Side, I would most likely have to dance. But for some reason, my mind blocked that out until I saw my name on that list. I wondered if there had been some kind of mistake because on my application, when asked if I danced, I distinctly recall filling out, “About as good as a bad dancing Asian guy can dance.” Having assumed the casting director saw this, I wondered if maybe the dancing isn’t that important in this version since I still made the list. On the day of the callback, seeing the other potential gang members, I knew immediately I was wrong.
I drove straight from work to the University Theater for the movement audition. As soon as I entered the building, I saw a small horde of guys and gals stretching on the lobby floor, in either dancing attire or workout clothes, me standing there in my work slacks and short-sleeved work polo. One girl (who later got the part of Maria in the play) was doing all sorts of balletic jumps and bounds and spins down the hallway and the only part of me that was jumping at that point were my balls shooting back up inside me as I realized that I had gotten myself into something I probably shouldn’t have gotten myself into. Fortunately, one of Amy’s friends was also in on the callbacks and when she showed up, I was a little bit relaxed but not much because she too saw the other dancers and began to start worrying.
The first part of the callback was for each auditioner to go on stage and do a 30 second dance segment, entirely choreographed by the performer. I had tried a few nights before to come up with something but realized that my years of spazzing out onstage as a punk rocker did not translate as well into the more graceful dancing of a big Broadway-style musical, so I decided I would just make it up when I got on stage.
The order was on a completely voluntary basis, the more bold performers jumping up first and dancing their ways through some very outstanding and often time hilarious routines, each one making me feel more and more unprepared and less and less enthusiastic about going on stage. After about seven or eight very talented young performers completed their impressive dance/fight/whatever-the-hell-they-wanted-to-do routines, I decided that it was now or never, so as soon as there was an opening I jumped up and made my way to the stage, nervous as hell and wondering how visible it would be to the audience if I had pissed myself.
As soon as the music started I jumped right into it. At first, I simply flew around, spinning, skipping, rolling about, feeling pretty good about what I was doing, feeling the music in me and just feeling pretty darn good about it. Alas, jumping in head first also took a lot out of me and after about 15 seconds, I found that I was completely out of breath and the last 15 seconds felt like hours and I remember as my body sluggishly tried to keep moving for the remainder of my time, the only thing on my mind was, “When the hell will that damned music stop?!”
The one thing I saw predominantly within this crowd of would-be West Siders was that apparently, clicks had already been established and it was almost like a club, one that if you weren’t already “in” you felt pretty alone on the outside. Fortunately, having Anna there (Amy’s friend) made me not feel so alone but there were times where I wondered how long it would take and how naturally would it happen for me to one day be on the other side – one of the veterans who already built a bond with those laughing, happy drama people and be able to walk into one of these things, already knowing that no matter what happened, you always had someone there who is glad to see you there. Don’t get me wrong. To an outsider, this would look like snobbery, but in all truthfulness, it is more like a family. These were people who had gone through a few productions together and doing so brought something special into their lives which they all could relate to and the only reason they did not interact with the “outsiders” was because they were just as uncomfortable with the outsider as the outsider was uncomfortable with them. I learned this fairly quickly as the callbacks moved on.
The next task was for us to be grouped into, um, groups and each group had a series of tasks they had to complete, as a “gang” via a choreographed routine that the pre-designated groups had to come up with in a specified amount of time. I ended up being in the group led by MFA student, Jason Engstrom, who was very warm and welcoming to me, which I always appreciated and actually played an important role in what would come later in my tour d’westside. Anna also, fortunately, got placed in Jason’s group so we were able to support each other.
One of the tasks was, through movement, to demonstrate a hierarchy of rank where one person was obviously the leader and one was obviously the weakest one of the group. Although I had always been pretty good at playing mean and tough, I have also found that I tended to lean towards weak and subservient, too, when someone else would take the leader role (in this case, Jason). In the end, a good choice for me because when it came time to perform our group choreography -- which each group did onstage in front of the other groups -- although we were able to perform well as a group, I found being the lackey gave me a few opportunities to behave in way that made me stand out and get some individual focus, which, even in a team, when you are vying for a role or a position, you want to be noticed. Thank you everyone else for being stronger than I was.
The final task of the movement callback was the worst of the three. The one I hated the most and the one that would continue to haunt all the way through the full production of West Side: the Mambo. One of the things about the mambo is that in order to do it in a way that truly, genuinely looks good, you have to either have a butt or nice full hips. I had neither and trying to move my stick thin framed in the same way the curvaceous girls and the more “sexy” guys did proved to be next to impossible for me and kept me from being able to ever fully feel confident about my ability to ever learn this dance.
At first, we did it as a whole group, later we were broken down into groups of four, where we did the moves on the stage. With fewer people on the stage, it made me feel even more self conscious and when it was my turn to be out there in front of everyone, I threw caution (and any and all dancing ability) into the wind and just moved around like an epileptic scarecrow trying to tie my shoes with my pinky toes. I remember feeling like the choreographer burning her glare into me as I butchered what was supposed to be a sensual, exotic dance, and turning it into a nervous fit only useful if one was trying to shoo off killer bees. But then, it was over.
As I wished Anna good luck (I kept telling her how I was so sure I would be voted off and that she would definitely get a call back for the next round) I sulked back to my car and called Amy to report on what happened. Of course, after speaking to her, I felt a lot better. She reminded me how important it was to remember that I should take pride in getting into the first callback and that even if I didn’t get called back again, I did more than I would have ever expected. I found that throughout this whole experience, it was having Amy in my life that kept me going.
When the next callback listing was posted, I was taken aback. Firstly, because Anna did not make the list (I felt so bad about having to call her and tell her because she did not have internet access at her apartment so I promised I would call her as soon as the list was posted) but secondly, because I did. I had to look it over a couple of times and when it finally sank in, I sat back and took a breath. Of course, this wasn’t entirely a good thing because as much joy as I was feeling about getting one step closer to being in the play, I was feeling just as much dread over the idea of what kind of tortures will I have to go through for the next set of stupid human tricks. If I had to do the mambo one more time, I think I would have called in sick.
Fortunately, I was able to pull myself together and when I learned that the next level was for voice, I was not as nervous but still not entirely sure about myself because my only real singing experience prior to this was what some could probably disqualify as real singing: being in a punk band. Yes, I was the lead singer for two different bands but singing in a punk bad was not much unlike imitating the sounds cats make when they’re having sex. I had never had any professional singing training and did not have an ear for music. I have been told that I was prone for being off key but it worked for the kind of music the bands I was involved in were playing. Fine and dandy, but worst off was that when I am off key, I usually did not know I was off key. Gulp. Here we go again.
The next round of auditions was less crowded. Over half of the people from the movement callback did not get on the list for the vocal callback. This time, the handful of hopefuls were closer together and without Anna there, I felt even more out of place. Fortunately, there were a few people who stood out of the “already connected” crowd and were very friendly to me, and in doing so, scored permanent places in my memory so when I got a chance to work with them again, I felt an extra amount of warmth for seeing their smiling faces again.
Fortunately, the vocal callback was a lot easier than I had thought it would be. Most of the singing that we did was in groups and this made me feel more comfortable. The only times we had to sing individually was when we did the rounds of “Gee Officer Krupke” which ironically I flubbed up on. Where during my initial audition I was able to conjure up a few different vocals for the different characters, one right after the other, being given only one character to portray, I found having to wait for my cue caused my voice to get dry and I squeaked in the beginning of a couple of the run-throughs, trying to sing with a nervous tongue. But the good thing was when I walked out this round, I didn’t feel entirely stupid -- just less stupid. I wasn’t any more sure of myself this second round than I was the first but this time the change was that I no longer cared whether or not I made the next cut. I was simply proud for making it as far as I did.
Of course, this new attitude didn’t change the fact that when I checked the roster the next posting and saw my name on the list again, I was shocked. Amy squealed in delight to see that I made another round and I hugged her tightly in thankfulness for her support. This was it. The last round. Amy and I had booked a trip to California for vacation the following week so we decided that I would go in and do my very best this last round and then let it go and not think about it again until we got back. Of course, seeing how the results of this last round would be announced while we were in San Francisco, that meant that I would have my laptop with me and would be checking the roster every day until I knew for sure whether or not I would be in West Side Story.
The final callback was the easiest for me. It was the one I was most comfortable with because it was the one I was most ready for: character reading. I had made the list of potential supporting characters: Schrank, Krupke, and Gladhand. Not necessarily roles I had ever considered but was not above playing if I got one of them, Schrank being the most promising and the one I felt strongest about because I had pushed my angry, mean self in the initial audition and was hoping to be able to use that energy in the bigot police lieutenant.
When the day came, I rehearsed and rehearsed Schrank’s big scene where he cuts down the Sharks and the Jets in Doc’s drugstore. I wanted to be the most intimidating, most hated lieutenant in West Side history so I memorized the monologue to a tee and had my voice cues set (loud angry here. Softer, more facetious/sarcastic there) but, alas, when the time came, I realized that the scene that we would be reading for was the first scene where Schrank breaks up the courtyard brawl, which didn’t have as many opportunities for me show range in my voice as I would have hoped. Yes, there was good stuff there, but I had to get familiar with it on the fly and didn’t know it as well as the other scene. In the end, I feel like this costed me the role and I wasn’t so sure of myself after doing my reading.
The saving grace, though, was that I was prepared for the Gladhand role. I read that there would be two readings: one straight off the script and more straight forward; a second with Gladhand being more hip and ending it with some rapping. Since I really couldn’t come up with much to make Krupke more alive (outside of pushing out my pot belly for comic effect) so I put insurance in Gladhand as a backup so that I would at least be in the play. Having had the experience of songwriting from my years in the band, I wrote a really quick rap that paid homage to not only West Side but also films like The Outsiders and Romper Stomper.
My Gladhand reading went over pretty well. At least it felt good to me. I channeled the spirit of Don Knotts and turned him into what he would be like if he were a neurotic, slightly homicidal social worker. Maybe not the ideal Gladhand but I had fun pulling it off. And when it came time for me to rap, I felt like most everyone was surprised when I pulled out my rhymes and represented like no other geeky social worker has ever represented. Word.
And that was that. There would be no more callbacks and no more opportunities to try and weasel my way into this production. Amy and I packed our bags and headed out to San Fran for a few days of sun and beautiful California sky. While we were out there, we got to attend an old friend’s wedding reception in a beautiful penthouse on top of this really fancy hotel. Egads! That thing must’ve cost a fortune. We also got to visit Pacific Grove, Monteray Bay, and Carmel, all of which I would be more than ecstatic to move out to (I have always been a west coast kind of guy). It was a wonderful weekend and there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t wish I was still there. Oh, and midway through the trip, I logged into the University site and saw that I did not make the final cut and my hopes for being in West Side had just left the building. I admit it was a bit disappointing but being in California when I found out made it easier to swallow and in the end, as I sat on side of the rocks of Monteray and stared out into the beautiful blue water with Amy, I realized that maybe this just wasn’t my time and regardless, we both learned a lot from the experience and this wasn’t going to be the last that the world of drama would see of Vu and Amy Ha. For the moment, though, I closed the book on West Side Story (as Amy closed the book to this run of Midsummer) and talked about our plans to one day move out to the West coast.
rise early on that day with shining faces...
15 years ago
