“Momma! I just got an email from my agent to ‘put myself on tape’ for a movie shooting back home! Take the paintings off the wall, make sure the dogs stay quiet, read these sides and get familiar with them and look at my teeth really quick, do I have spinach in them?!?!?!”
I had been preparing for self tape auditions long before the self tape trend became not just a trend but a necessity during these times. I jumped on the Hollywood South local hire bandwagon several years ago so auditioning this way was to become par for the course. This was my first self tape and all I knew was I needed some smoke and mirrors to make our quirky 1880’s row home look as sterile and well lit as possible. Oh and also I needed someone to record me and read with me - enter Momma. Twenty-four hours later, I was en route to New Orleans for the callback and a month later, I was back home again for the shoot.
That’s one of the success stories. Not mentioned above are the hours Momma and I spent frantically trying to create perfect three point lighting by propping lamps on top of yoga blocks and recipe books, cursing why we ever tossed our Encyclopedia Britannica collection. The amount of T-R-E-A-T-S given to our dogs to keep them quiet while I was self taping. The times I told Momma as the reader to, “Tone it down Momma and just talk like a normal person!”
With self tapes, my Type A self becomes Type A Plus - a neurotic actor, DP, director and stage manager all rolled into one who barks orders at my momma like she’s a dutiful unpaid PA “doing this for copy and credit” who’s also supposed to read my mind. Momma will only take my ridiculousness to a certain extent. So, during every self tape escapade, we do the dance of Momma saying “stop taking this sh*t so seriously, baby!” and me ever so dramatically catting back, “Momma, I have to take this sh*t seriously. This. Is. A. Business!!!”
Enter COVID-19. The world got quiet for a hot minute. We got terrified, watched the news non-stop and reflected on what was important. And, then…everyone started talking about self tapes and posting photos of themselves in front of blank walls. Ring lights became as coveted Tickle Me Elmo back in the mid ‘90’s. I was thankful I already owned one (a ring light, not a Tickle Me, Elmo) even though it is incredibly top heavy and we have to anchor the bottom with dumbbells while Momma holds the actual ring part while reading the sides with me.
I realized if self tapes are a part of our new normal, I have got to work on making them joyous. (Doesn’t that sound like a word all of these actor guru people popping up would use?) I had to start trusting Momma and her abilities. She birthed me naturally, lived on top of a mountain solo for a decade and hand fed exotic birds from eggs. Surely I could entrust her with framing me appropriately, telling me if my makeup was too whorish for a secretary or if my hair was too crazy for a detective. I encouraged her to give me acting notes, which often were: Don’t do that GD theatre voice, Brooke. Maybe do it with an accent this time. Baby, do it this way. (Man, I love line readings. Really, I do. They’re refreshing.)
The first self tape audition during the pandemic I got pinned but then was released. That doesn’t matter because the self tape process itself has just become more fun, more free. I am letting Momma handle the what used to be the hours long set-up like the bad-ass stagehand she has become and I am focusing on grounding myself in the present moment of the scene - with Momma standing right across from me holding up our Godforsaken ring light.
In this self tape world, home turf advantage doesn’t always apply. I have started focusing on the things at home that are working for me instead against me. One of those things, or, people rather, is of course Momma. In her, I have a wonderful PA, hair and makeup artist, wardrobe assistant, DP, director, reader and support system. Even if she gives me line readings.
In case you’re wondering Momma is NOT PICTURED because she CAN NOT STAND to have her photo taken.
