The Audition

Maria Tartaro paced back and forth, checking her watch and shifting the music she held in her tightly folded arms. She wondered if she looked all right, had put on just enough makeup, if her hair looked good, and if her black dress flattered her figure or made her look fat. For the twentieth time, she went over in her mind the words and music of the aria she was prepared to sing, this time in German instead of the aria’s original Italian. You had to sing in German when you auditioned for a provincial German opera theater. Maria had labored over this aria for two weeks to learn it in German and perfect her pronunciation.

Maria was one of two American singers auditioning for the Landestheater in the city of Detmold that day, the other being a young baritone. Maria was not unknown to Herr Jaeger, the General Music Director of the theater. He had recently made a guest appearance as a conductor in the theater where Maria had been engaged for part of the season and had conducted one of her performances. She thought she had made a favorable impression on him, although she had found him somewhat unpleasant in a bullying sort of way.

On her way to the backstage area, Maria ran into the man and greeted him with a friendly Guten Tag. He had not only not answered her; he had not even looked at her. She was taken aback by the snub but had put it out of her mind, thinking that he must have been preoccupied.

The semi-darkness of the backstage area where they were required to wait was oppressively comforting, and it stood in contrast to the brightly lighted, empty stage on which a grand piano stood in the far corner. There were no chairs backstage, and Maria and the young male singer had to stand while waiting for their turns to audition. The two singers didn’t speak to each other, preferring to spend their time mentally preparing to go onstage and sing for the heads of the company.

After what felt like a long time, the auditioners called the young baritone, and he exited onto the stage. The young singer had not yet learned to speak German, and the auditioners accommodated him by talking to him in English. He presented them with a well-sung version of an aria from Verdi’s Un Ballo in Maschera in Italian instead of German. The auditioners politely complimented him and told him to go and wait for them in the General Music Director’s office. The young singer left the stage, smiling and looking happy.

The auditioners didn’t call Maria immediately, and they made her wait for what seemed an interminable time while discussing something among themselves. She renewed her pacing and tried breathing exercises and prayers, hoping to calm her nerves. For one awful moment, she couldn’t remember some of the words of her chosen aria, but she soon retrieved them again. She wished she could sit down, but there were no chairs, and she was forced to remain standing. At one point, she dropped her music and stooped to pick it up, hoping the bookmark she had put in it was still in place.

“Frau Tartaro!” The sound of her name startled her, and she exited onto the stage. She walked over to the grand piano, opened her music, and presented it to the waiting pianist. Then, trying to be as graceful as possible, she walked to the center of the stage and took her place. The bright stage lights blinded her to anything in the darkened theater, and she couldn’t see the auditioners or anything else past the first two rows of the theater. She began to feel slightly dizzy but fought the feeling and composed herself. She expected Herr Jaeger or someone else would ask her what she planned to sing.

Instead, she was shocked to hear the words, “Warum sind Sie hierher gekommen?” She recognized Herr Jaeger’s voice. He sounded angry, and he was asking her why she had come to Detmold! She stood in silence, having been taken by surprise.  His following words, again in German, were, “I already worked with you in Heidelberg. If I were interested in you, I would have told you then.”

Maria finally found her voice and answered in German, “My agent Herr Meier sent me. You are looking for a soprano.” She knew this was a lame answer, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” said Herr Jaeger. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Maria, alone on a lighted stage and unable to see her accusers, couldn’t answer.

“So what are you going to sing?” asked Herr Jaeger. “You have come here and wasted our time, so you might as well sing something.”

“I have Tosca’s Act II aria,” said Maria. “In German, of course.”

“Do you have anything else? Anything from Der Maskenball” Herr Jaeger would not make things easy for her.

“I have both of Amelia’s arias, but only in Italian,” said Maria.

“No,” said Herr Jaeger. “This is a German theater. Sing the Tosca aria, then.”

Maria signaled to the pianist, who began the short chordal introduction to the aria. Maria began to sing it. She used her upset feelings to pour energy into the piece, and her voice and emotions responded well. She gave what she thought was one of her best performances of the aria. She was satisfied that she had acquitted herself well when it was finished.

“Good-bye, Frau Tartaro. You can go back home now. We don’t need you here,” said Herr Jaeger.

Maria nodded, walked over to the piano, and retrieved her music. The pianist gave her a sympathetic look and a smile. She tried to smile back at him but only succeeded in stretching her lips a little. She turned around and walked back to the same backstage area she had occupied earlier. When she arrived, her eyes were flowing with tears, and she couldn’t hold them back.

She was still weeping when she left the stage area and headed toward the building exit. A man and a woman who had been in the theater and had heard her audition stopped her and told her she had sung beautifully. All she could say was, “Ja, aber ….” The couple gave her a sympathetic look and repeated their compliment. Maria smiled at them through her waterfall of tears and thanked them.

On the train back to Heidelberg, Maria closed her eyes and tried not to think about the day that had just passed. She had some performances coming up in Heidelberg, which meant she had a future as a singer, and she was determined not to let her experiences earlier in the day derail her life.