Though Alabama country bumpkin Jenny had never set foot in the Big Apple, Chen Zhen was no stranger to New York. As the wife of a wealthy tycoon, Paris, Milan, Rome, New York, and London were all places she frequented—sometimes to invest in property, sometimes to accompany her husband on business trips, and sometimes simply for leisure. New York held a special place, as she had lived there for an extended period. Due to her husband's family arrangements, her son was born in the city.
Of course, her last visit had been to the spacious apartment in Manhattan's Upper West Side belonging to her ex-husband's family. Now, however, she could only afford Brooklyn. Fortunately, the law firm covered all transportation and lodging for this interview trip. Jenny only needed to worry about her own meals. Otherwise, if she had to pay out of pocket, Jenny wasn't sure if she'd end up staying in the Bronx to save money. These were her leanest days yet. After buying her own car, her expenses had increased. She'd stopped dog-walking, but the payment for Chicago hadn't hit her account yet.
Cesare obviously hadn't accompanied her to the audition. As for Jim, he had his own commitments, and besides, he wasn't Cesare's personal assistant. Jenny had to handle all the arrangements for the Broadway audition—contacting the staff at the Shubert Theatre and continuing her training—entirely on her own. The Chicago auditions would span three rounds, with roughly ten to fifteen working days between each. Cesare wasted no time, arranging several voice lessons for her. How she got to them was entirely Jenny's problem.
This marked Jenny's first encounter with New York's public transit system. Her inaugural subway ride made her keenly appreciate the benefits of socialism—the filth and disarray of New York subway stations stood in stark contrast to those in Shanghai or Beijing. Worst of all, the subway lines had no cell reception, which was terribly inconvenient for Jenny, who might receive an audition call at any moment.
But she couldn't afford taxis, nor did she have the money or need for a rental car. Uncertain whether she'd pass the audition, Jenny was being extremely frugal. Her only "luxury" since arriving in New York had been a Broadway show costing over thirty bucks—nothing else.
It wasn't Chicago she saw, but The Phantom of the Opera—the Chicago cast was on tour and hadn't returned to New York yet. The reason auditions were being held now was because the actress playing Roxie had health issues and might need surgery after the tour. For reasons unknown to Jenny, the theater company had unexpectedly decided to hold open auditions for Roxie's role.
This was highly unusual. Typically, renowned musicals like Chicago rarely publicly recruit specific roles. Want to be an understudy for Chicago? No problem—head to Off-Off-Broadway or Off-Broadway. Plenty of shows there, you'll get a part.
Yes, newcomers rarely break through on Broadway itself. Most start in off-Broadway or off-off-Broadway, performing in experimental, low-budget productions. Then you find an agent who helps you gain recognition from Schubert Theatre executives or company insiders. When the company next recruits, you join the troupe. After multiple rehearsals, you start in supporting roles. If you're skilled at networking, with a strong voice and solid acting skills, you could become an understudy for Roxie within a year. Remember, a hit musical like Chicago averages eight performances a week—and that's the average. During peak seasons, two shows a day isn't unusual. With so many performances, Roxie's regular actress will inevitably miss some shows for one reason or another, and that's when you step in.
If you deliver an outstanding performance that truly shines, congratulations—you might become a full cast member next season, making your three years of dedication worthwhile. In fact, three years is considered quite generous; typically, it takes over five years for an actress to become the leading lady in a Broadway hit. This casting mechanism applies universally to classics like Cats, The Phantom of the Opera, and Beauty and the Beast.
This approach has its pros and cons. The upside is that the selected performers are battle-tested and deliver consistent performances. The downside is that exceptionally talented actors rarely stay in musical theater. If they have a beautiful voice and sweet looks, they can earn more money as pop singers and achieve stardom faster. Thus, on Broadway, many lead roles are cast not for conventional beauty or exceptional acting skills. Some performers even possess average vocal talent, relying instead on strong stage presence, accumulated experience, and the ability to navigate the industry smoothly. This allows them to secure leading roles in smaller theater companies.
The audition Jenny was attending this year was ostensibly just for the Chicago cast, seemingly unrelated to Roxie. She had no idea how the whole thing worked and went in completely clueless.
The initial screening involved submitting resumes and audition videos, likely narrowing down candidates. Even so, the first interview drew hundreds of men and women of all ages and ethnicities. Jenny had no clue which roles they were auditioning for. But she was certain her looks stood out among them.
The first interview focused on basic skills. She sang a song, performed a few dance moves, and answered a handful of superficial questions before it concluded. Jenny had learned by now that having a golden ticket didn't automatically make her an audition killer. Many auditions were just going through the motions, offering no real chance to showcase talent. What good was a golden ticket if you never got the opportunity to prove yourself?
Of course, many might think optimistically beforehand: if there's no chance to showcase, I can just seize it myself.
Haha, that's just like a typical job interview. You apply for a programmer role, see the interview isn't going well, and immediately grab a computer to start typing away at code for the interviewer to see. The problem is, they've already seen what they need to see. Maybe everyone else in the interview has similar programming skills. Unless your professional edge is truly outstanding, this kind of solo performance is most likely to make the interviewer think you're mentally unstable.
Truth is, showbiz isn't so different from regular companies sometimes. What gets you hired isn't just your skills—there are plenty of other factors at play. Shining brightly in an audition doesn't guarantee you'll win over the casting director and land the role. The world isn't that simple.
For Jenny, at least with this role, the world's complexity worked in her favor. She smoothly passed the first round of auditions and began awaiting and preparing for the second round. During this period, she also attended a short-term course Cesare had enrolled her in—one recommended by Robert. Calling it a short-term course was a stretch; it was essentially one-on-two intensive training tailored just for her, as the entire class consisted only of her and another male student. During lessons, the instructor simply rotated between coaching the two of them.
Here, the advantage of being recommended by Robert became evident. Her instructor, Ms. Agata Lepning, held dual bachelor's degrees in dance and theater from Juilliard. Currently serving as the choreographer for The Phantom of the Opera and having previously choreographed Chicago, her stature on Broadway was undeniably significant. Naturally, she was also a close friend of Robert's. Jenny dared not ask how exorbitant such personalized instruction might be, but she recognized Cesare was undoubtedly channeling considerable resources her way.
Though Russian-born, Ms. Lepnin was a second-generation immigrant, making communication with Jenny straightforward. However, she was in her late forties, entering early menopause—a fact that alone hinted at the course's nerve-wracking intensity. Jenny's dancing was decent enough to earn praise from teachers in Los Angeles, but under Agata's Juilliard-level scrutiny, it seemed utterly lacking. Though Agata never said it outright, she'd flashed doubtful looks more than once, clearly questioning Robert's judgment.
As for the boy training alongside her—whether it was a pity or a relief was hard to say. this dashing, exceptionally handsome young man adhered to Broadway's time-honored tradition of being more interested in cucumbers and eggs. He seemed to be the young protégé of some Broadway big shot, and it was only because of his connections that he'd been shoved into Agatha's class. Jenny hadn't had much chance to chat with him, so she didn't know much about him.
After over ten days of foundational training and corrections, three days before the second round of auditions began, Agatha finally broached the subject of Jenny's audition.
"I really don't know what James is thinking. This year is tough, but he doesn't have to be so desperate for quick results," Agatha remarked as she entered the rehearsal room a bit late, still on the phone. "Yeah, yeah, I know it'd be great publicity and a decent career pivot, but is that girl even cut out for it? When did Broadway sink so low it needs to play the idol card? Oh, come on, this kind of hype is just tacky."
She eyed Jenny up and down as she spoke, making it crystal clear that "that girl" referred to Jenny. Jenny felt a chill run down her spine under that scrutiny. "Alright, I know, dear, OK, OK. But first she has to impress me—"
She turned away and finished the call in a low voice. Jenny had a strong feeling it was Rob on the other end.
"Alright, girl." Agatha had been calling her 'girl' for over ten days now, as if Jenny had no name. She hung up and turned back. "Pull yourself together. Tonight we're going into performance mode. I'll have you sing a piece from Roxie first. You pick the song. You have fifteen minutes to prepare. The backing track is over there. You can load it yourself."
Jenny knew she'd have to pull out all the stops tonight to impress Agatha. —Of course, by "all the stops," she could only mean her golden finger at the moment.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes to steady her breathing, walked to the computer, selected the song excerpt, chose the film and scene in the performance space, counted down five seconds in her mind, and the instant the music began, she chose empathy.
The life of Roxie Hart surged over her. In that moment, Jenny felt almost entirely like Roxie Hart—her teenage years ordinary and dull, harboring ambitions of fame yet destined by her平凡 circumstances to marry the uninspiring Mr. Hart. Who could have predicted that a murder case would unexpectedly grant her a taste of fame? In this musical number, Roxie fully embraces the perks of stardom—fame intoxicates her, making her giddy with self-importance. "Roxie" is her confession, her vision of the future, and her unbridled ambition.
To a low, urgent beat, Roxie glides onto center stage, cigarette freshly lit in hand. She's bursting with joy, radiating triumph from head to toe—as if drunk on her own success, tinged with intoxication.
Roxie speaks rapidly, almost nonstop, unable to contain her triumphant tale: You know, I've always wanted my own show, but—No, no, NO! NO! NO!! They always refused me. This world is full of NO. Then Amos appeared—safe, sweet Amos, who never says no."
"I've never done this before. Let me tell you the truth—tonight is so special—" Her tone intensified, tinged with intoxicated hysteria, "And you're such a great audience!"
Loxie announced cheerfully, "In the bedroom, Amos' performance gets a—Zero."
She made a gesture, laughed crudely and lewdly, lowering her voice to mock her husband's bedside manner, "Oh, I love you, darling, I love you—"
With this string of confessions, Luo Xi laid bare her true nature. Beneath her beautiful exterior, her vanity, selfishness, and narcissism appeared all the more repulsive—almost shocking and laughable. Yet precisely because she was so stunningly beautiful, this ugly character seemed to possess a peculiar beauty of its own, making it impossible to look away. Her subsequent rambling, almost delirious song段 then flowed naturally from this monologue.
"The name on every pair of lips will be—" she sang dreamily, "Roxie!"
"The face on every coin will be—" she sang with wild imagination, "Loxie!"
"They'll line up outside just to see—" she beckoned with a flick of her finger, "Loxie!"
"I'm decked out in jewels," Roxie's delusion reached its peak as she sang with rapture, "but of course, I still have impeccable taste. I'm a star, the audience loves me, I love the audience, the audience loves me, I love the audience—"
In her fantasy, she was a superstar. Roxie's song drew to a close, "Sophie Tucker couldn't hold a candle to me. I'm a superstar—Roxie Hart."
A male voice hummed softly "Loxie, Loxie" over the backing track. Loxie fluttered her eyelashes at her imaginary audience, her performance momentarily concluded. Jenny gradually snapped back to reality from her immersion in Loxie's world.
Typically, a musical number lasts about five minutes—the maximum duration of her empathy.
The dazzling stage transformed back into the rehearsal room. Facing only two spectators, Jenny suddenly felt an indescribable awkwardness. She was accustomed to large audiences, but performing so passionately for just two people stirred her self-consciousness, making her blush.
She suppressed this unprofessional reaction, replying coolly to Agatha, "Well—"
Agatha and William—her male classmate—both remained fixedly staring at her. William's mouth hung slightly open, a look of rapture on his face. Only at Jenny's prompt did he snap back to reality, clapping wildly. "Bravo! Bravo! Darling, you were absolutely brilliant!"
Even Agatha found it difficult to maintain her proud demeanor. She visibly swallowed hard before nodding with restraint. "Though your fundamentals still have many flaws, Robert is right—your performance is incredibly captivating. You possess a unique power to command the entire audience... You did very well, Jenny."
"Thank you." Jenny relaxed, a smile lighting up her face as she bowed to Agatha. "And thank you for your praise, William."
At that moment, it suddenly dawned on her—indeed, musical theater was the art form best suited for her to showcase her acting prowess at this stage.
If film's Method acting demanded self-restraint to adapt from three-dimensional to two-dimensional, from firsthand to secondhand visual experiences, then musical theater offered a fresh, firsthand immersion. She could empathize however deeply she wished, for the audience below the stage was the true focus. The more she lost herself in the role, the more the audience believed her performance, and the more powerful the stage impact became. the more convincing her performance becomes to the audience, and the more powerful the stage effect.
——Moreover, a five-minute song perfectly matches her capacity for sustained emotional immersion. Between stage plays and musicals, the latter offers Jenny far greater scope for artistic expression.
So sometimes people are slow to catch on. After preparing so long for the Chicago audition, Jenny only now had this epiphany. She had to admit she was a bit slow on this point.
Since it's a comparative statement, it naturally implies someone else is smarter. Amid Agatha's reluctant praise, Jenny couldn't help but think of Cesare.
Had he cast her in musicals precisely because he saw her strengths? Even without knowing about her golden touch, did he observe that her peak performance always lasted exactly five minutes?
If so, then... Cesare had once again proven something: his vision was truly exceptional and outstanding.
But his goal was to forge her into a Hollywood legend, not a Broadway queen. Sending her to New York for musical theater couldn't be solely because her current acting suited musicals best—there had to be a deeper purpose.
So, what was his purpose?
Jenny was already anticipating the answer.