Benny T. Fields, Theatrical Agent
"What's the part?"
Julia sounded tired and a little disinterested.
"Hard day?" said Benny, sympathetically.
"You could say that. We were one short on the bar, and a crowd flocked in from the moment we opened the doors. I never even got my break, and I reckon I set a record time for bladder control. What is it anyway? I need a bath, dinner, and bed in that order."
"Experimental theatre group. I am looking for a female support role. I'm not sure what the play is about or if they even know themselves, but their last production got complimentary reviews, and the critics have picked the director, Michael Murdstone, as one to watch. I had never heard of him before, but he seems to be the flavour of the month and came out of nowhere. Unusual specification for the part: Applicants must be mixed race, Anglo-Asian, or similar, aged sixteen to eighteen."
"Benny, I'm twenty-one, or had you forgotten?"
"You look so young, my dear girl, but it's no big deal. Streisand played a woman twenty years younger, and remember 'Rizzo,' the high school girl in Grease? She was thirty-three. Apart from that, you are one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen. Your father was British, wasn't he?"
"American, but yeah, he was white. My mother came from an old, established, and wealthy African family from Saint-Dominguez, and they were not happy when her daughter brought home her white American husband, but they came to accept him. Anyway, enough genealogy; how much does the job pay?"
"Way above the standard rate. Money seems like no object. It's a good contract, Julia, and I reckon you would be mad not to go for it.
"I'm interested, Benny. When can I apply for an audition? Anything to stop this bar work?"
"I have booked you in for tomorrow at the Everyman Theatre in Liverpool with Murdstone himself. I can drive you down myself; I have business there."
Julia laughed. It was nice to hear her laugh; she had been having a tough time lately, and she was a good kid.
"Benny, you are a marvel. What would I do without you?"
"Starve. Now get an early night, and I will ring you tomorrow at nine."
I put the phone down. This was all very odd. Murdstone had telephoned me this morning, asking for Julia's availability. How he knew her name was a mystery; Julia did not have any track record; she was fairly new to the business, with a few small roles in Rep., nothing more. I didn't have any business in Liverpool tomorrow, but I was curious to meet Murdstone, and Julia probably could not afford a rail ticket, so it was all good.
* * *
Julia
"It was the easiest audition ever. Michael greeted me like an old friend. He was a handsome guy and superficially charming, but I am not sure I took to him on a personal level. That intuition proved correct when I heard him berating one of his juniors for some mistake or other. It was vicious, and he continued even after the poor girl was howling. I was about to go over when Michael walked out of the office with a smile on his face, charm personified and asked whether I was ready to begin. I suppose I should have asked about the girl, but I needed the job and could not risk upsetting him. I did a couple of prepared pieces for him, and he never took his eyes off me, which was uncomfortable. He told me the play would not stick to a traditional format and would require some demanding improvisations. Was I ready to accept the challenge?
"I, of course, said yes, and he told me on the spot that I had got the part. I was happy at my success and went over to Benny, who had stayed to watch and hugged him. Michael frowned; maybe he thought that he was the one who should have received the hug, but he quickly recovered, and the phoney smile reappeared on cue. Benny finalised the details of the contract, but Michael was openly peeved when we turned down his offer of dinner. We said that Benny was meeting another client, and I was on an early shift the next day. Not entirely true, but Benny shared my misgivings about Michael and warned me to watch my step.
"The rehearsals started a week later, and I soon made friends with most of the cast. Jeff, who had the part of Albert, one of the brothers who owned the Portal Emporium, where my character lived and worked, was one of the older members of the group, and I recognised him from a long-running sitcom on television. Jeff was Liverpool-born and bred, and we hit it off straight away. He became like an uncle figure to me, similar to the one that defined our on-stage relationship, but there was a familiarity between us that neither could explain but both felt. And it was not just him. Audrey Peters, another well-established actor who played Aunt Gladys, almost fell into my arms when we first met, and although we had never met before, we hugged like old friends. The first rehearsal felt more like a reunion than an introduction. We were all intrigued at first, and there were many discussions, but the strangeness of the situation lost its novelty, and we all came to accept it.
"I only had problems with one actor (apart from Peregrine, who was not an actor), and that was Jamie, who played Cluan. Cheap fitted the part to perfection. He was either a brilliant character actor, which I did not believe for a second, or the personification of his character in the play. Equally over-friendly or secretive, he stood far too close to me when we were talking, and I often caught him looking at me furtively. Believe me, when I said those lines, "I wouldn't have you if you were the last man on Earth," they came straight from the heart.
Michael had told us that Peregrine was not an actor and was playing the part for real; it was all some new theatrical technique he wanted to try out, and we were only to speak to him in character. A completely ridiculous idea, and we told Michael that it could not possibly work—what about rehearsals, for a start—how could we conceal from him that we were acting?
"Peregrine will not attend rehearsals, Michael said. "I will play his part then. Peregrine will not appear on stage until the opening night, when we first perform before an audience. I told you this was experimental theatre at auditions and to prepare for the unexpected. It is not going to be easy; that is why you all have such good contracts."
"But Peregrine will not know his lines, how he should act in the various scenes, or how to respond to our lines," said Jeff. "It will be chaos."
"Your lines are only an approximation of what you must say. I require you to think on your feet and guide him towards the planned outcomes in the script, ad-lib, and improvise. You are actors, are you not? I will not tolerate any defeatist attitudes, and you will do exactly as I say. We can practice at rehearsals when I change my lines, and you respond accordingly.
"But where is Peregrine now?" I asked.
Michael did not soften his tone when he replied. It was clear that my question was unwelcome.
"Asleep, under sedation, he is perfectly safe and well," said Michael." I will revive him at a time I see fit. He is not your concern, and you must follow my guidance on this matter. I will address the following remark to the whole company, so please listen carefully. I do not want anybody in the play who is not going to make a hundred per cent effort and abide by my rules. If you do not want to continue on these terms, please inform me now, and I will terminate your contract on the spot, and you will be free to leave."
Many of the cast members had not seen this side of Michael before and looked shocked. We stood in silence for a full minute, but nobody moved.
"Good," said Michael. "I will take that as your full agreement. The play will represent a groundbreaking paradigm shift in the traditional relationship between actors and their audience. I intend to break every rule in the book to make this work. If you follow my guidance to the letter, it will enhance your reputation in the theatre, and I can guarantee you all future success, in particular those at the very beginning of their career.
When he said that last line, he fixed his eyes firmly on me, and I looked down in embarrassment.
"I expect you want to take a break now and discuss this between yourselves. Sandra has kindly prepared coffee and sandwiches in the Red Room. We will break now until 3 p.m. for a cast read-through, focusing on comprehension and style; tomorrow we move on to character and action analysis; rest assured that I am not prepared to break every theatrical convention."
There was a murmur of amusement from the cast.
"I do not want any questions now, but I will set aside an hour this evening for general discussion. Thank you"