His Big Break

I couldn’t bear waiting at home all week, but I didn’t want to miss the call. They told me they were interested so the phone might ring at any time. Maybe they weren’t concerned about my availability or they were playing hard to get? I’ve had important roles before, of course. No sign of a romantic lead, but that could happen. Whatever part I’m playing, even if it’s a walk-on, I own it and make my mark. I’m a serious person and can’t help getting involved. But it’s funny, you know, because I never get the serious roles. Everyone remembers how well I played Badger from The Wind in the Willows. Badger was an earnest character, but that’s not the same as a serious role. 

   Everyone agreed I was the finest Badger the Rose Theatre had ever seen, and the cast said I’d created a lasting impression. On the opening night, I recall Rat’s mouth falling open and Mole dropped his egg-spoon when I appeared on stage. ‘The hour has come,’ I said, with gravity, and noticed Rat staring at my button fly. I’m certain the audience wasn’t distracted by my trouser malfunction when I said, ‘It’s time to take Toad in hand.’ However, their silence spoke volumes as I took centre stage, delivering my lines with assurance and imbuing the play with a sense of dignity. The audience loved us, even if the critics were undecided. ‘Long-winded tragedy or willowy farce?’ They were unclear in the reviews, despite our nightly standing ovations.

   The point is, I’m ready for a major role and when I heard about the casting call for The Winter’s Tale, I knew it was for me. The part of Antigonus would suit me fine and had my name etched all over it. I could imagine my face on the posters around town and people recognising me. ‘Can we have your autograph?’ they’d ask, and I’d oblige them with a winning smile. The opening night party would be an opportunity to wear my tuxedo. I’d have to lose a few pounds mind you, but that’d be my incentive. Maybe I should have a shave too? I don’t think Antigonus would have a full beard. They were all clean shaven in those days.

   Pring! Pring!

   “Hello, Michael’s phone. How can I---”

   “Hey, buddy! Have you heard anything?”

   “Not a word, Brian. The casting director said she’d call when Trevor’s decided.”

   “That’s promising…. I guess.”

   “She said. ‘Your number’s on the C.V., right?’ and I said, ‘The landline’s best because my mobile has poor reception.’”

   “So, you’ve been stuck at home all week?”

   “I sure could murder a pizza, Brian.”

   “Hey, buddy, should’ve said so.”

   “You’re the best, Brian.”

It’s funny how your luck can change and jobs arrive out of nowhere. I was working in Lorenzo’s Restaurant on the night Gerry was celebrating his wife’s birthday. He’d cast me as ‘The Gruffalo’ last year and said I was perfect for the part. The kids loved it and The Rose Theatre extended our run for an extra month over the summer. We were fortunate because August was dreadful weather-wise. It rained every day and the box-office made a mint from ticket sales. Anyway, Gerry asked if I was working and I said, ‘Yes and no.’ He nodded and said I should get a C.V. to Cathy at The Rose. ‘Trevor’s in town and putting on a show,’ he said. ‘Do you mean Sir Trevor?’ I asked. ‘Yes,’ he said, perusing the menu. ‘The word is, Trevor’s had a couple of no-shows.’ Gerry placed an order for lasagne and mentioned Shakespeare and The Winter’s Tale, and something about Antigonus and one other role. ‘If I were you, I’d pop over a C.V. and P.D.Q.’

   As you can imagine, I wasted no time and went round to see Cathy the next morning. Cathy knows all the right people and never forgets a friend. ‘Antigonus is a wonderful part for you,’ she said. ‘I know you’ll bring your magic to it.’ She’s such a sweetheart and put in a good word for me in Trevor’s shell-like. They were drawing up a short list and she flipped my C.V. onto the top of the pile. It’s who you know, not what you know in this game. Trevor’s assistant, Shelly, called me the next day. 

   Pring! Pring!

   “Hello, Michael’s phone. How can---”

   “Michael,” said Shelly, tapping away on a keyboard. “Trevor wants to meet you tomorrow.” 

   My mouth gave way, and I sat down with a bump. 

   “Michael…?” 

   “That’s amazing.” I said, retrieving my jaw from the carpet. “What time suits?” 

   “How about four o’clock?”

   “I’m there already.”

It’s fortunate that I have a working knowledge of The Winter’s Tale and I’m familiar with Antigonus and his tragic end. My thought was to rehearse Act 3 and Scene 3 where his ship sinks and he leaves the baby in Bohemia prior to his terrible fate. I’d mentioned it to Shelly, and she’d said, ‘I’m sure that’ll be perfect.’ I spent the rest of the day and half the night cramming the text. Over and over again, I rehearsed each line until every word rang true and chimed like a mellifluous bell in a deserted ravine.

   On the day, Trevor was a proper gent. He greeted me in his office and asked about my intention, which I explained. ‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘I’m particularly interested in the last section after Antigonus has reached land and abandoned the baby.’ 

‘I can give you much more than that,’ I said, preparing my vocal cords for a vigorous onslaught. Trevor smiled and said, ‘That won’t be necessary for now, Michael. Shelly will cue you in with the stage directions and you can pick it up from there.’

   (Thunder!)

   “The storm begins.

   Poor wretch,

   That for thy mother’s fault art thus exposed

   To loss and what may follow. Weep I cannot,

   But my heart bleeds, and most accurst am I

   To be by oath enjoined to this. Farewell.

   The day frowns more and more. Thou ’rt like to have

   A lullaby too rough. I never saw

   The heavens so dim by day.”

   (Thunder and sounds of hunting!)

   “A savage clamour!

   Well, may I get aboard! This is the chase.

   I am gone forever!”

   (He exits pursued by a bear.)

If anything, my mistake was to impersonate the bear with a mighty growl and make the sounds of a ferocious beast mauling the wretched Antigonus. Trevor raised an eyebrow and shot a side glance at Shelly, who shrugged in response. ‘Well,’ Trevor said, stroking his goatee. ‘I can’t fault your enthusiasm, Michael.’ I picked myself off the ground and brushed myself down. ‘Thank you,’ I said, beaming like a Cheshire Cat. ‘I thought the cries off stage would add an air of realism to the ending.’

‘Indeed,’ said Trevor. ‘It certainly added something special, Michael.’ Shelly flashed a brief smile and Trevor said, ‘My office will let you know either way, as soon as we’ve made a decision.’ With a warm feeling in my guts and a nervous smile on my face, I left my audition. It’s rarely I bare my soul, but I was sure that I’d aced it. I’d nailed it for certain. A dead cert. 

   Brian knocked on my door later, holding a couple of Dominoes’ twelve-inch specials with extra pepperoni. ‘Any news from Trevor?’ I told Brian about the audition and how I’d given it my best shot. ‘When will you know?’ he said, munching on a slice. ‘It’s up to Trevor, but it could be soon.’ Brian chomped some more and swallowed. ‘How soon is soon?’ There was no telling. ‘Soonish, I guess.’ 

Trevor’s assistant, Shelly, called me three days later.   

   Pring! Pring!

   “Hello, Michael’s phone---”

   “Michael,” said Shelly. “I’ve got good news.”

   “What did Trevor say---”

   “He wants to see you again.” 

   My hand trembled as I sat down. 

   “Are you free today, Michael?” 

   “Today’s fine.” I said, closing my eyes. “What time suits?” 

   “As soon as possible?”

   “I’ll be there.”

The second meeting didn’t go the way I expected. Trevor didn’t hold any punches. He greeted me, offering me a seat in his office, and Shelly took an order for coffees. ‘There’s been an unexpected change of circumstances, Michael,’ he said, stirring two spoons of brown sugar into his espresso. ‘Jonny’s throat has made a remarkable recovery, and now he’s able to resume rehearsals for the part of Antigonus.’ 

My furrowed brow revealed my thoughts as Trevor settled his spoon on the little saucer. ‘I spoke to Cathy earlier,’ he said, summoning Shelly to top up his cup. ‘She reminded me you have experience as the Gruffalo?’ I nodded, sipping my drink.

‘Your improvised piece impressed me at the end of your reading.’ I thanked him, but the truth dawned on me before he asked, ‘Would you consider the bear?’

   I thought it was too good to be true. Walking into a major role wasn’t likely, was it?

O.K., I’m biggish and my voice is deep, but I have a surprising range and ambition. However, thinking about it, I’ve lots of ideas about how to develop the bear’s character. I’ll play the creature in a way they won’t expect. I’ve got ideas for the costume already. Maybe I could make the bear more frightening? Perhaps I could wear a bell to announce my arrival or add lines of dialogue to extend the moment. I’m sure I can persuade Trevor. He can recognise talent when he sees it.

The End