Les Misérables of Liberty University
WHO: Dewi Ainsworth, Jared Montour, and the Miserable(s) students of Liberty
WHEN: October 13th, 5:00 PM
WHERE: Liberty Auditorium
WHAT: All students come prepared with any piece of music and any monologue to impress the judges and get a role in Les Misèrables that is more prestigious than "Brother #1".
NOTE: THIS THREAD WILL BE CLOSED ON FRIDAY. IF ( Read more... )
WHEN: October 13th, 5:00 PM
WHERE: Liberty Auditorium
WHAT: All students come prepared with any piece of music and any monologue to impress the judges and get a role in Les Misèrables that is more prestigious than "Brother #1".
NOTE: THIS THREAD WILL BE CLOSED ON FRIDAY. IF ( Read more... )
Seriously, screwed getting kidnapped and all that, that was a piece of cake next to this feeling of pure teeth-clenching, stomach-fluttering, nerve-wracking, nail-biting fear. He was supposed to be amazing at this kind of stuff! He was never scared talking in front of people, that was easy as hell but this… He had to perform in front of people. Not just acting, that was a cinch.
Singing. He had to sing. He wasn’t even sure if he was that good! The acting bit he could do but the only singing experience he ever had was at 3am and in the shower! Well and that little thing with Lucy but… She had said he was good but wasn’t she just being polite?
Just as he was about to back out and never look back, he heard “Next, please!” He felt the butterflies in his stomach die, replacing the fluttering with the heavy feeling of dread (which felt a whole lot like dead butterflies). Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from side stage.
Immediately, he was blinded by the sheer brightness of the stage lights and he lifted a hand to shield his eyes, looking out into the seats, seeing a few familiar faces but focusing on the two professors sitting behind a table, desk lights illuminating the table.
Standing in the middle of the stage, Alfred let his hand fall, wincing as the crowd was bathed in the falling halos of the stage lights. It made him feel a little better; in the soft whiteness he could almost imagine that he was alone in the huge amphitheatre.
“My name’s Alfred, Alfred F. Jones and, I know it’s a girly song, but I’ll be singing 'Don't Rain on my Parade' from Funny Girl.”
There was a silence and Alfred had to close his eyes before he heard the music play over the speakers and without really focus he started to sing. There was a definite change in the boy, a quiet confidence quite different from his usual cockiness. Just a pure joy in what he was doing and for that few minutes the song lasted (even through the changed lyric “Mr. Arnstein” to “Mr. Ainsworth”) all those dead butterflies were gone and all Alfred could hear was the echo of his own voice and he was grinning like an idiot. A few notes off here and there but there was an undeniable stage presence the young man had.
He wasn’t half-bad.
The final note echoed into silence and he took a step back, finally coming off the high, Alfred snapped back to reality and he swallowed, cheeks turning pink as he took centre stage again, forcing himself to breath instead of bolting from the stage or crying out in joy that he didn’t faint.
Reply
Alfred played a rather convincing Jules Verne. “Well there's this passage I got memorized Ezekiel 25:17,” he said, pacing across the stage, keeping his eyes focused on a point outside the washed white-light, voice quiet and intense, “‘The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.’.”
He paused, starting to laugh slightly, the smile on his face anything but the sunshine people would be used to. Something much colder, darker. “I been sayin' that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never gave much thought what it meant. I just thought it was some cold-blooded shit to say to a motherfucker before I popped a cap in his ass. I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice.”
His fingers splaying out on his chest, his hip quirked and he gave a casual shrug. “See now I'm thinkin', maybe it means you're the evil man.” he pointed out to the audience, “And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9 Millimetre here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd,” the fingers were back on his chest, “and it's the world that's evil and selfish. Now I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be a shepherd.”
Finishing, Alfred blinked, a little shocked to be finished. “A-Ah- Thanks a lot for letting me tryout.” He stood there awkwardly, lifting a hand in an attempt to block the light so he could see his two professors’ faces.
Oh God please say I didn’t fuck up…
Reply
Finally.
After eight poor auditions, a voice that his ears could listen to, and tackling a song originally meant for a female, no less! Then the monologue - although the cursing caught him off guard with it's boldness and originality - had the perfect accent for the American's voice. The Welshman got to his feet and firmly clapped his hands together once, twice, thrice... then pressed his hand down on the surface, not peering at Alfred from over his glasses.
"All right Alfred, thank you for auditioning. Cast list will be posted on auditorium doors this Friday. Also, please don't pester me for results once we get home. NEXT!"
Reply
Leave a comment