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Hollywood North - by Don S. Williams Tie telephone rings twice before green, where you meet and greet actors with whom you've worked before, and some of who are good friends. There is a fraternity factor in the business, but make no mistake, i f you are reading for the same part, you are in competition, and while they are smiling at you and talking to you, they are checking to see i f you look more sinister and mysterious than they do. Then there are strangers who show no signs o f fraternity, only anxious glances to see i f you look more sinister and mysterious than they do. Friend or foe, you are all sitting or pacing, with lips moving, trying to lock in what you are going to do with the lines in the audition room, halfknowing that none of what you prepare w i l l be in what comes out inside. "Don, you're next." Last minute looks at the side s and lip movement. The door o f the inner sanctum opens and a familiar face, albeit with glassy look and frozen smile, emerges. " H i , D o n . C o m e right in." The casting director's smile seems genuine. Some auditions have a video camera and operator. Sometimes only the video camera, operator and casting director. Some have had a whole panel of people, unintroduced, and looking like a parole board. In this case, I'm introduced to the only other person in the room, the director of the particular episode at stake. I deliver " m y " lines and am not surprised they don't sound like the silent, careful and frequent preparation 1 did in the waiting room. Afterwards, I find myself looking at the script and wondering why in hell I read one particular line the way I did. The director tells me something about the character and asks me to do it again. I have been on his side of the room, perhaps 60 or 70 times, as director or producer, and know he is either trying to help me figure out what he is looking for, or simply trying to find out if I've programmed myself or if I can make a major adjustment in the performance. Adjustment is the biggest factor to some directors. I read it again, workDon S.Williams's experience includes directing 46 episodes o f T h e Beachcombers, executive-producing the same show for six years; directing series as Ritter's C o v e and H u c k l e b e r r y Finn; acting in five TV movies and episodes o f W i s e Guy, T h e C o m m i s h , Palace G u a r d , and M o m PI.; and producing and directing three TV movies. Now he's back to acting and auditioning for roles. television The bottom line is to make sure it is vastly different from the first reading. "Very good. Thank you very much." says he. "Thanks, D o n . " says she. "Thanks a lot," say I and turn to leave, trying to remember which way I came in. Sometimes a comment like "very good" is litany and sometimes they are sincere enough to not say anything. But he sorta sounded like he might just have meant it. The next day, Bruce calls to tell me Chris Carter, the executive producer (also the creator and writer o f the series), wants to see me. The process is the same except now there's the casting director, who introduces me to the director I met last time (I recognize him), a director I've never met before, and then-Chris Carter. I sit in the same chair as last time and try to deliver the same goods as the second time through at the first audition-only I feel I must be even more impressive, whatever the hell that means. "Excellent," says Chris Carter. "Very good," say both directors. "Thanks, Don," says the casting director. "Thanks, very much," say I and make a really good exit because I am now sure of where the door is. The next day Bruce calls, "They want you to do it. A n d Chris Carter is writing the character into the following episode, so it's a good piece o f work." H o w nice. X-Files. A prestigious series. G o o d pay. W i l l look good on the old resume. Helps to pay bills. Helps to provide more revenue for Revenue Canada. Takes care of my union dues. Both u n i o n s . - I pick it up. It's Bruce, my agent for many years, calling from TwentyFirst Century Artists. I started acting at age 16. and after nearly 40 years o f extensive behind-the-scenes experience in film and theatre, I ' m once again getting in front o f the camera. "I've an audition for you...for XFiles (the hot television series). They're looking for someone large, sinister, mysterious and threatening." I never get called for the romantic, sexy leads. Because o f my six-footfour, 270-pound body size, I am most marketable in the area o f what we call the "belly-over-the-buckle parts." I have been cast as an over-the-hill cop, a judge, a mafioso. sleazy bigshot, icky-civil-servant and a postman of indeterminate sexual persuasion. I ' m a bit early as I enter the security gate o f North Shore Studios and am invited to enter what by now is familiar but still fulfilling my childhood fantasies about being in H o l l y w o o d . W e l l , almost fulfilling my fantasies. So I'm here only as a day-player. M y star potential may be discovered yet. Then conies the routine of filling out forms: name, address, phone number, agency, agent's name and phone number (does he have my number memorized?), social insurance number, G S T number and union membership number (most of us belong to two actor unions in B . C . ) . The ritual includes hauling out my wallet to get all the numbers. I wait to be placed "on deck." There are two characteristics to an audition waiting room. There's the village