Open RP: Auditions!

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

So as far as Geoffrey knew, his production of Twelfth Night was well under way. No, really -- despite it having been weeks since his posters had been altered, he had somehow entirely failed to notice that the people who were signed up for the play were, in fact, signed up for a completely different one. This meant he was probably due for something of a surprise, today.

He'd cleared a large space in the Great Hall and tacked up a sign that said "Auditions here!" which he figured was enough decor. Pulling up three chairs -- one for himself, one for his stage manager, and one for Oliver... wait, make that two chairs -- he slouched down into his seat, rolled up his sleeves, and waited for the first arrival.

((This is primarily for people who are auditioning, but if you missed the signup and want to participate in the play, now's your chance!

Edit: So I figured we'd do one thread for each character, and they could read a little monologue and chat with Geoffrey and Bun-Bun if they liked. And please, feel free to mention A Midsummer Night's Dream. A lot. Geoffrey still has no idea that's what he's actually supposed to be working on.))

Comments

[researcher42.livejournal.com]

"Yes, that does happen," Ford said seriously at Geoffrey's criticism of the play. "I have to say between the two, I'd bet on silly."

He stood up suddenly. "Oh right, reading. I'll be presenting a piece from A Midsummer Night's Dream act V, scene I."

Yes that scene, because by Zarquon if Ford was going to act he was going to ACT!

"Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;"

He reaches dramatically towards the ceiling.

"I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright:
For, by thy gracious golden, glittering streams,
I trust to take of truest Thisby's sight.
But stay;--O spite!"

He performs a Stop In the Name of Love sort of gesture.

"But mark,--poor knight,
What dreadful dole is here!"

Hand to chest. Dramatically, of course.

"Eyes, do you see?
How can it be?
O dainty duck! O dear!"

Where exactly did that duck come from anyway?

"Thy mantle good,"

He kneels down and reaches for the imagined garment.

"What! stained with blood?
Approach, ye furies fell!
O fates! come, come;
Cut thread and thrum;
Quail, rush, conclude, and quell!"

The volume increases noticeably over these last few lines, then drops suddenly as he continues.

"O wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame?
Since lion vile hath here defel..." He slurs the word and tries again. "...derflerered...deflerod...deflowered..." That's it, that's the one. "Deflower'd my dear;"
Which is,"

He holds the imaginary bloodstained mantle to his chest,

"--no, no--",

then drops it.

"which was the fairest dame
That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer.
Come, tears, confound;"

He raises his hand to his forehead in the classic Woe Is Me gesture.

"Out, sword, and wound"

He mimes pulling a sword from his belt.

"The pap of Pyramus:"

He goes to stab himself on the right side, then hesitates before going for the left side instead. Also, he only giggles slightly when saying pap. It is a funny word, pap.

"Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop:"

He mimes and exaggerated stabbing gesture.

"Thus die I," Stab. "thus," Stab. "thus," Stab. "thus. Stabstabstab.

"Now am I dead,"

He abruptly lies down flat on the floor.

"Now am I fled;
My soul is in the sky:"

He sits up again, reaching up towards the sky. Then he seeps back down to the floor, melting ridiculously with each word.

"Tongue, lose thy light!
Moon, take thy flight!
Now die, die, die,"

He pauses.

"die."

Ah, it seems to be over.

No wait...

"Die."

Okay, now it's over.

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

It said a lot about the general quality of the auditions today that Ford was entirely middle-of-the-pack right now. A little, you know, bloody fucking ridiculous, but that was really kind of expected.

Also, Geoffrey hadn't even started working on this play and he already kind of hated it. And this school. And... pretty much everything.

Resisting the urge to bang his head on his chair, he smiled overly-sweetly at Ford. "Thank you, Professor. That was... not dull."

[ka-click.livejournal.com]

Bun-bun checks his notes, nodding to himself. He lifts his head towards Prof Prefect. "You got any priors?" Cause, really, this guy might actually make a nice Puck. He's got the hair for it.

What? Okay, first of all, you're asking a homicidal rabbit for advice on a play, do I even have to go to the next reason?

[researcher42.livejournal.com]

"Thanks." Ford looked over at the director and the rabbit but remained lying on the floor where he'd 'died'. "Not dull is exactly what I was going for," he said sincerely.

"I do have some acting experience. I acted like an Earthling for 15 years, pretended to be an out of work actor for 12 years, and was officially cited for acting drunk and disorderly on no less than 17 occasions." He seemed entirely too proud of that last bit. "Oh, and I was the Player in a production of Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead about six years ago, but that was more or less on accident." He didn't elaborate as to how one might accidentally perform a major part in a play, it was more fun to watch them try and figure out that bit for themselves.

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

Geoffrey didn't feel like trying to figure it out. He was getting a headache. He flashed Ford a bright, cheerful-looking, and rather bitchy smile. "Ah, well. You'll fit right in here, then. Welcome to the company, Professor."

What? He had no room to judge Ford -- he'd been arrested six times, once for throttling a swan and twice for stabbing people.