Open RP: Auditions!

[crazynotstoned]

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

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[doctorkilljoy]

Killjoy hadn't performed with other people in well over a century, not since that one nurse and the debacle she'd caused onstage. Other people just ruined his vision. Still, he couldn't resist the opportunity to share his theatrical genius, even if it did mean letting someone else direct for once. Though he doubted that anyone was as brilliant a stage manager as he, it would be a relief to not have to wrangle his fellow actors. He could concentrate solely on the material.

He had chosen a scene from Hamlet for his audition. His projector, which was sitting behind and to the left of Tennant and...a rabbit (Killjoy repressed a groan and reminded himself that there were much crazier things lurking about the school), wound to life. He started speaking almost before his image showed up, but he probably didn't realize it. And though he would have said his monologue was perfect, he had a tendency to overact and was very bad at changing facial expressions. To his credit, it was difficult to see his face in certain lighting

[apologeticellen]

Even though this was a freaking projection of light, Ellen could not agree more with his sentiments. Leaning forward from where she was sitting behind Geoffrey, Ellen made a sympathetic face. "You have to tell him the part you want," she told Killjoy. "Or else he'll give you shit."

The rest was mumbled, though in a stage whisper, so it was perfectly audible, "Like the freaking queen, just because you're not twenty anymore."

Oh, the bitterness of a diva.

[doctorkilljoy]

"Oh, he's one of those," Killjoy groaned, giving an exaggerated eye roll. "I trust you mean that foolish twit Titania? Hippolyta would suit better, but her lines are so few. Were I in charge, I would cast you as the fair Helena: a young woman scorned by her only love, cast aside and unwanted, and yet she does perservere in the face of all adversity to claim the hand that should have been rightfully hers!"

Killjoy tactfully elected not to mention what he really thought, that Helena was an even bigger twit that Titania for driving herself to madness over a man. Or that women had no place anywhere near a stage. Opera was one thing; theater was something else entirely. Still, he was nothing if not polite, and to that end, bowed politely.

"Killjoy," he introduced himself. "Dr. Killjoy, though I trust such an intelligent lass as yourself has long since deduced that. Might I know the name of the fair flower who has deigned to speak with this humble alienist?"

[crazynotstoned]

Geoffrey had gotten a little distracted by the fact that a movie projector was apparently not only there and talking to him, but auditioning for his play. Oliver's play. Whoever's play. The thing was theoretically sentient, that was the point. He stood to examine the thing with wide eyes, waving his hand through the beam of light, his mouth hanging open as he studied it. By God, it was real! As real as the Sorting Hat and the talking rabbit and...

It occured to Geoffrey, sometimes, that he had found himself in an incredibly strange place indeed. Still, a talking rabbit was one thing, but this was even weirder than usual.

It took him a while to realize that not only was the thing talking, but that he was apparently talking to Ellen. In a very particular way. Geoffrey straightened up and raised a brow. "This is Ellen Fanshaw." He waved a hand at Ellen. "My wife. I'm Geoffrey Tennant."

[anythingawesome]

Kelly had a monolouge. Oh, yes. From Romeo and Juliet - the Claire Danes one. Ohmigosh, Leo was such a hottie back then.

She walked in, fuzzy pink purse slung over her shoulder. The woman was accessorized to kill.

"Hi! I'm Kelly!" It came out in a very perky chirp.

[crazynotstoned]

Oof. Geoffrey was not a fan of perky. He exchanged a look with Bun-Bun and sank back into his chair, biting his thumbnail. "Hello, Kelly," he called out to her as magnanimously as possible. "I'm Geoffrey and this is Bun-Bun. Do you have something to read today?"

[anythingawesome]

"No, I've got the speech memorized," Kelly said brightly. "I don't need to read it!"

Kelly cleared her throat, and launched into a heartfelt recital of Claire Dane's infamous 'O Romeo' monologue. Kelly was only vaguely aware that Shakespeare had something to do with the whole thing.

It sounded exactly like what one might expect a heartfelt rendition of the 'O Romeo' speech as read by Kelly Kapoor to sound like. There were hand motions aplenty, mournful sighs, and incredibly awkward inflection choices.

In Kelly's humble opinion, it was the greatest job ever! She finished with a dramatic gasp, and grinned expectantly at Geoffrey and Bun-Bun.

[crazynotstoned]

Well, it wasn't as bad as Tomo's. That was really the nicest thing he could say about it. It was... something, at least? But sadly, not enough to keep Geoffrey from quite literally cringing; Kelly's reading was accompanied by a great many winces and sighs.

Geoffrey was not the most subtle person.

As with Tomo, there wasn't a whole lot he found he could say about it, when she was through. The problem was that back in New Burbage, or even in Montreal, he wouldn't have given her a second look. Here, though, the cast was limited -- he'd already realized he would need to use every person who auditioned in order to fill out the play. That was kind of a problem.

He stood slowly, tugging unconsciously at the cuffs of his huge, dusty black coat. "Kelly." He said her name slowly, trying the sound out. "Kelly, Kelly, Kelly..." Pause. "...Do you want to try that again?"

[traitorormartyr]

Archie came in quietly, reading his copy of MacBeth one more time before slamming it shut and setting it down, waiting his turn.

[crazynotstoned]

Geoffrey got up to greet Archie and barely stifled a groan when he saw the book in the young man's hands. "Oh, shit. You don't think we're doing that, do you?" If he had to do the Scottish play again, he was quite honestly just going to give up and hang himself. From the Astronomy Tower, for preference. It would be wonderfully dramatic.

[traitorormartyr]

"Oh, no sir! It's just you said to come with a monologue, and seeing as this is my favorite play, I chose to pull a monologue from here."

[crazynotstoned]

"Oh, thank God." Geoffrey quite literally nearly sagged with relief. "Because I'll be honest with you, I..." He trailed off, blinking in disbelief at Archie. "...That's your favorite play?" he asked, his voice rising shrilly. "Do you mind if I ask why?" He sounded almost personally offended by it.

[busty_robin]

Steph came in, a dog eared copy of Midsummer Night's Dream peeking out of her back pocket. Despite the fact that this was a Normal Afterschool Activity, she was actually kind of nervous. There was some fidgeting going on, in shirtsleeve area.

It was probably because she hadn't had time to throw herself off of any roofs that morning. Completely understandable. "I’m Stephanie," she announced. "I’m very good at flipping, hopping, and jumping off of things."

[crazynotstoned]

Geoffrey sighed, spotting the book in her pocket. He realized that, of course, some people might bring in monologues from things other than the play that was being performed, but... the signs did not look good for his poor Twelfth Night. He rubbed at his eyebrow with his thumb, glaring balefully at Stephanie, who didn't deserve it in the least.

At least he was dimly aware of that fact; when it came time to answer Stephanie he tried to rally himself, mustering up a smile that looked more like a wince. "Right. Well, I don't think we're going to be doing much of that, actually, but if you'd like to read something...?"

[busty_robin]

"Really? 'Cause in the movie version, there were all sorts of flips. I mean, I know plays are different - thank god, because the film had Michelle Pfeiffer..." Throughout her entire ramble, Steph hadn't actually been able to take a good look at Mr. Tennant. She tended to avoid eye contact when nervous. When she did look down, mid-Pfeiffer-talk, her face scrunched up in confusion. "...and she scares me." Wa-huh? Since when had Fraser gotten into directing? And what was with the fake name? Granted, Shakespeare was a boring, dead, white guy, and thus right up the Mountie's avenue of interest, but she figured he would have mentioned something.

Maybe this was just a twisted retaliation for her hat theft?

"Erm - why are you wearing a wig? Is this some sort of...Canadian thing?"

[crazynotstoned]

"A wig?" he echoed blankly. Although Ellen had met Fraser, briefly, Geoffrey had not; and although Ellen had told him all about it (up to and including the part where she had considered inviting the younger man to a threesome and/or buying Geoffrey a mountie uniform), he didn't immediately make the connection.

As for Geoffrey, he hadn't worn a wig since well before he'd done Hamlet, and that... well, that was a very long time ago now. So this was a little confusing to him. He tugged at one wild curl, to demonstrate that it was real, giving her a bewildered look. "No flips. And no Michelle Pfeiffer. I promise." He grinned. "God fucking forbid."

[robinthepuck]

The lights dimmed suddenly. A house-elf pointed a large (magical? Who the hell knew) spotlight towards the doors to the Great Hall. For a dramatic moment, all was silent. And then the doors burst open, and there was glorious music swelling. Other things might have swelled as well, because, as the soft light hit him, it was dreadfully apparent that the man at the door was stark naked.

Robin Goodfellow, in full glory, stood waiting for applause, hands on his hips.

Then, in a tone melodious and rich, he started his monologue.

"If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends."Bowing low, with a

[ka_click]

Bun-Bun, overlooking Pucks shortcomings, is actually studying the list of people who signed up for this thing. Which includes the name of the guy that this is most likely to be. He underlines the name, and passes the sheet over to the director with a written note of And this might be why we're doing Midsummers nights dream.

"Right, and yer auditioning for...? Cause I think you might do well as Lysander, or Cobweb."

[crazynotstoned]

Oh, Geoffrey knew Robin Goodfellow. The two had already had quite the meeting at Geoffrey's Sorting, and although all signs indicated that Geoffrey should like him, in fact he was very much in denial that the Puck was even remotely what he claimed to be and, as such, disliked him thoroughly.

The nudity really did not help, nor did the horrifyingly Nichols-esque theatrics. These kinds of things had no place in an honest show, really. Geoffrey stared numbly at Robin, his face a mask of barely-concealed horror and bemusement. Distracted by Bun-Bun's movement, he glanced down and winced at the note. This was exactly why he didn't WANT to be doing this play, dammit. Too many people like... well, just like THIS always wanted to be involved.

At least the rabbit was consistently proving himself. Geoffrey smirked at the comment and looked back up at Robin. "Thank you, Mr. Goodfellow. We'll be in touch." Not if he could bloody help it, they wouldn't.

[busty_robin]

((Tag-in unrelated to Robin's audition thread, and approved by Robin-mun!))

Steph, having just finished up her own audition, couldn't help but notice the naked guy bursting into the great hall.

Ick. The spotlight did not help in the least. She grimaced, and muttered "Eww. Naked old guy," under her breath. Guh. No, thank you.