We ran a set of auditions today at Cecil Sharp House, home of British folk music, today. It's such a special place. There was a moment when an almost mystical light started shining through an Arts and Craft circular window in the room we were in, and cast an extraordinary almost metallic pattern on the wall next to where the casting director was sitting. I love it when nature reminds us how impressive it is, and how architects from bygone eras prove that they knew how to build much better buildings than the tat that gets thrown up these days. I daresay Cecil Sharp House will last for many years longer than 90% of the buildings they sling up this century.
The castings went well. We met some lovely actors, some of whom were a lot better prepared than others! It's very interesting to observe a casting from this particular perspective. I watched actors walking into the space and getting themselves roles, and others coming in, looking promising and then messing everything up for themselves. They'd all been sent the script and asked to chose a section of it to look at. Some of them had obviously read it thoroughly, and gone away and done a load of research, not just about Greenham, but about the accents mentioned in the scripts. Others had barely read it, and didn't seem to even know the premise of the experiment. It taught me one thing: the privileged, pampered actors in this business who don't try hard enough aren't necessarily the ones you might expect them to be...
I came home and continued working on the protest song... And worked late into the night.
There's little else to say. We've binge-watched a few episodes of Ru Paul's drag race, which has given us a rather lovely counterpoint to the evening.