I got a call for an audition for a prime-time soap opera, and was told that I’d need to remove my shirt for the casting director after auditioning my scene. This was three days before the audition, so I had a bulimia-filled weekend of starving and exercising like a maniac.Monday arrived, and I performed the scene and removed my shirt. Piece of cake. Then the casting director asked me if I’d be willing to bare my butt as well. I suppose we can thank “NYPD Blue” for blazing the trail for men to show their rear-ends on prime-time TV. Where do I send the muffin basket.
My instinct was to not flinch and just drop trou. Any hesitation would count against me as a comfortable, professional actor. Inside, however, I was feeling something akin to consternation, or maybe constipation. Like when I listen to Kenny Chesney sing, or eat heavy German food.
In the room, along with a female casting director, was a guy running the camera and a female assistant who had read lines opposite me. Great– witnesses. That said, I manned up, and down came the pants and boxers. I cupped my nuts with my hands and turned around, not knowing what to expect. What I found was that it was not so horrendous, and actually felt very much like I was disrobing at a doctor’s office. Calming breath.
I wound up getting a callback, which was great. I’d like to think it had more to do with my acting skills than my tushy, but I suppose either one is a good thing in this town.
