Re: AuditionwasthecuteoneJanuary 12 2012, 17:12:23 UTC
"Good! And it's great to be here," Petra said. "So, I'll be singing "You'll Never Walk Alone" from every Liverpool game ever Rodgers & Hammerstein's Carousel today."
Petra pulled herself up, took a deep breath, and began to sing.
"When you walk through a storm Keep your chin up high And don't be afraid of the dark. At the end of the storm Is a golden sky And the sweet silver song of a lark."
Her voice was a slightly husky contralto, steady, strong, and with great feeling and confidence.
"Walk on through the wind, Walk on through the rain, Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown. Walk on, walk on With hope in your heart And you'll never walk alone, You'll never walk alone."
And then she waited for the judges' directors' reaction.
"Hey, having it prepared is a totally legitimate reason," Troy agreed, grinning. "Okay, perfect -- now did you have a monologue in mind, or are you doing a cold read?"
Re: AuditionwasthecuteoneJanuary 13 2012, 02:59:32 UTC
"I'm going to do a monologue from meta for Breakfast at Tiffany's," Petra told him before launching into it.
"Look, I know what you think," she said, scrunching up her nose like she totally knew what he thought. "And I don't blame you, I've always thrown out such a jazzy line. But really...except for Doc...and you...Jose is my first non-rat romance. Oh, not that he's my ideal of the absolute finito," she assured the audience with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He tells little lies and worries about what people think and he wants to be the President of Brazil. I mean it's such a useless thing for a grown man to want to be and takes about fifty baths a day. I think a man should smell...at least a little bit. No, he's too prim and cautious to be my absolute ideal. If I were free to choose from anybody alive...just snap my fingers and say "Come here, you!"...I wouldn't pick Jose." Oh, she was wandering off into daydream land now. "Nehru maybe...or Adlai Stevenson or Sidney Poiter or Leonard Bernstein..." She snapped herself out of
( ... )
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Petra pulled herself up, took a deep breath, and began to sing.
"When you walk through a storm
Keep your chin up high
And don't be afraid of the dark.
At the end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark."
Her voice was a slightly husky contralto, steady, strong, and with great feeling and confidence.
"Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never walk alone."
And then she waited for the judges' directors' reaction.
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"Look, I know what you think," she said, scrunching up her nose like she totally knew what he thought. "And I don't blame you, I've always thrown out such a jazzy line. But really...except for Doc...and you...Jose is my first non-rat romance. Oh, not that he's my ideal of the absolute finito," she assured the audience with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He tells little lies and worries about what people think and he wants to be the President of Brazil. I mean it's such a useless thing for a grown man to want to be and takes about fifty baths a day. I think a man should smell...at least a little bit. No, he's too prim and cautious to be my absolute ideal. If I were free to choose from anybody alive...just snap my fingers and say "Come here, you!"...I wouldn't pick Jose." Oh, she was wandering off into daydream land now. "Nehru maybe...or Adlai Stevenson or Sidney Poiter or Leonard Bernstein..." She snapped herself out of ( ... )
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