Co-Star Crapshoot

I had my first audition of 2007 today. For a co-star on a hit show. Against my better judgement. It went fine, we'll see, blah blah blah.

I say "against my better judgement" because I am now well tuned-in to the caste system of television roles. And I know that auditioning for a co-star role at this point, even on a hit show, probably doesn't help me and may, in fact, be a detriment to what I'm trying to do here.

Let me explain.

Most people first work on TV by doing extra work and/or co-stars. Extra work is wandering around in the back of a scene to create atmosphere. It involves blending in and being unrecognizable. Extras are treated like second class citizens on a set. They are herded like cattle. There are usually several signs saying "extras holding area" which is a nice way of saying that day's cattle pen. There are more signs warning extras not to eat the food at Kraft Services (Kraft Services="catering table", and please don't ask me where the name comes from...sometime I'll write about the "honey wagon" and being in a "triple-banger" and then the fur will really fly on this blog). Extras are expected to show up on time, bring their own clothes (not too bright or colorful!), cross through the scene when directed, hit their marks, get the hell out of the way, and never call attention to themselves. It's a pretty unfulfilling way to spend a day, although it does count towards benefits.

Then there's co-star roles. Co-star roles actually involve lines. Yup, you get to speak! So it's certainly a step up from extra work. Actually, most of the non-recurring characters you see on TV are co-star roles. A co-star part is anything from one line to several lines to even a few scenes. The vast majority of them, however, are three to five lines of plot advancement. ("Well, her neck is fine, but I noticed some old bruises on her back. It looks like she may have been in an abusive relationship." Gee, thanks Dr. Exposition!) Co-stars are expected to show up on time, wear sometimes ill-fitting clothes from the costume shop, hit their marks, advance the plot, and then get the hell out of the way.

The next level up from co-star is guest star. Guest star roles are the ones you see on TV that are major players in the show: the defense attorney, the murder suspect, etc. The director actually talks to guest star actors (the extras and co-stars only get to deal with the First A.D.), and involves them in the show. To be a guest star is to have arrived, to some degree. It actually requires making some choices and, you know, acting. (The only level above guest star is series regular, and that's a whole different ballgame.)

For my last year or two in NYC, I had graduated out of the ranks of co-star roles into guest star roles (don't ask me, by the way, why co-star is hyphenated, and guest star isn't; it's just another burden the co-star must shoulder). This is important, because if you do too many co-stars , casting directors feel you can't do more than that (likewise, you have to avoid doing too much extra work). And once you start doing guest stars, you really shouldn't turn back.

This prejudice is much sharper and far more overt in LA. Out here, they practically hold it against you if you've done any co-stars. Because the darlings of the TV industry are the actors (usually gorgeous, usually young), who just started working in guest stars from the get-go. Why can't we all be as brilliant as these wunderkinden?

You see where this is going. My agent and manager have strongly pushed me as a "guest star only" kinda guy out here. It's important to present yourself as "belonging" at a certain level. My last three roles have been substantial, juicy guest stars—they have demonstrated my range at that level. That's what we have to shoot for. Otherwise, particularly when dealing with casting directors unfamiliar with his work, a forty-year-old character actor is only going to toil in obscurity on the lower rungs.

Which brings me to today.

Today I was requested kind of last-minute by casting directors I met in the fall to be seen for a co-star role on a hit show. Normally, we'd say "thanks, he'd love to do this show, but in a more substantial role," and wait to see what else came up later in the season (for most shows in LA, once you've worked on it, you're done....you can't repeat as a different character).

But this particular show has its scripts shrouded in secrecy, and although the part was only three lines, there were possibilities here: often this show has people read for one scene then they do three during the shoot; sometimes co-stars on this show become recurring co-stars. And things have been quiet for me thus far in '07.

So we all agreed I should go in on the hopes the role might actually be something juicier than imagined, and the casting directors, who knew my work and had complimented my reel, might want someone with some decent chops to pull it off.

Wrong.

I got to the audition and there were five or six other guys there who ran the gamut from 25-year old bald black guy in fatigues, to 30-year old guy in motorcycle outfit, to me (today reading as about 35 and kind of rural), to forty-ish guy who looked like a professor—all reading for the same role!

This was a case of them not really knowing what they want. This was a case of a role that probably got written into the script yesterday. And this was, most definitely, a case of a character who is going to show up, advance the plot, and get the hell out of the way.

Roles like this are a crapshoot (hence the post title above). When you audition for them, you're told repeatedly, "throw it all away"; "do it with less feeling"; "faster than that"; "say every line like you don't really care what you're saying". It's an exercise in making yourself as unnoticeable as possible, while advancing the crucial plot line. For the most part, unless someone's having a bad day, everyone who comes in will do a decent job. And these auditions are a bummer because you know that everyone will give the same, slick, understated read, and it really will come down to whether my slightly tousled hair and plaid shirt trump the other guy's two-day growth and eurosport fleece.

And, not to whine about it, but I had kind of moved past that. It's good to get out and be seen, and to flex the audition muscles again, but there's nothing that makes you feel less like an actor than going in to play Officer Plotadvance. A role that I won't even put on my résumé, because it will make other LA casting directors think they can have me for cheap.

I still hope I book it though.