The dominating defeat over my arch nemesis (which is completely, I am sure, one-sided. But for me it is the equivalent of  Johnny Lawrence & Daniel LaRusso, Brady & Manning, or the Iron Chef against anybody) was sweet living. For that single night, I believed that no matter what else happened, I was satisfied. But what’s amazing is after a victory like that, my mind raced at what was possible.  Could I really have a shot at this role? Then I began to think about the others also invited back. And the adulation I had felt for too brief a time waned quickly.

I would later learn that those who were called back were long-time veterans of the theater. Many shows performed and with extremely good reason. They were well-rounded extremely talented actors who were not helping me even in the slightest with their perfect pitch and stronger than hoped for interpretations. First there was the “Director”. He had recently directed a smash musical here, graduated in the highest ranked musical theater program west of the Mississippi and had a passion for this role like no other. Then there was the “Performer.” Strong presence, tall, good size, and what sounded like an immaculately trained voice that could lull mamma’s baby to sleep one minute and lift the place right off its foundation the next. I immediately picked him as the favorite.

And then there was Andrew. His voice was a lot like mine in that it hadn’t been professionally trained. It was strong for sure, and passion was evident. He wears a tatoo and a soul patch. He shaves his head. But he’s tall and svelte and has a distinct look that’s very easy to work with in creating the visual side of the character. But those aren’t the reasons why he was asked back. He was asked back because he commanded the stage when he performed.

This was going to be a long night.

I began to wonder where I stood amongst the four of us. If I were generous, I would say 3rd. But I have no confidence in it. More a combination of hope and desperation, I suppose. I think the thing that helped me most as I sat with those guys, waiting to be worked over one more time, was that I sincerely believed I belonged there with them. The previous day’s audition was the most grueling, most exhausting emotionally, physically, and mentally I have ever experienced. And having succeeded then made it clear that I belonged now.

Even if the Director and the Performer could hit the A 8 times in a row without even sweating about it.

But I had another ace up my sleeve. At least, a mental ace, an ace that kept me in the game all night long. I knew this character inside and out. His good side and his bad. I understood him. I found both empathy and disdain for him. I had played him as written before.

Well, not EXACTLY as written by Frank & Leslie. But a version of Jekyll, more hopeful, not as cynical with the world yet. Maybe earlier in his career. But well enough to know the challenges and opportunities the role would bring. When I wrote “Another Story To Tell” one of my main motivations was to sing on stage, “The Confrontation”, a number where Jekyll & Hyde confront each other. Singing as Jekyll AND Hyde at the same time. It’s why I came up with the idea of combining several well-known characters from Broadway shows and put them together in an original story.  In order to do that, I had to study these characters completely - what would motivate them to act outside of their own stories and how would they respond to certain other characters and how would that impact their paths? Of course, playing Jekyll, I spent much more time on him than on the others. I knew the songs, I knew the character. The character of both characters. And I felt I knew it better than anyone else.

So when they asked us to perform the scene where Hyde kills the Bishop of Basingstoke, I went for it. In my opinion, Hyde isn’t acting out of anger or vengence. He’s killing the man because he loves it. Loves the idea of taking this “obscene, self-indulgent hypocrite” and treating him like a fat mouse trapped by a psychopathic alley cat. Hyde has murder in his eyes and it is sweet.

It’s that hysterical joy  that makes Hyde so freakin’ scary. And the others in the room seemed to think so as well. At least their gasps told me as such.

I felt I was setting myself apart with my interpretation of Hyde, and of Jekyll as well, but Jekyll is pretty vanilla in the way he is written (Andrew, however, went a completely different way with Jekyll, pulled it off and was unanimously elected as Supreme High Commander for Life of the “Does Not Help Me Out” club.) But I was pretty confident I was holding my own. It wouldn’t be the same story if we had to sing. Not sure I could get up for it. Fortunately, this night was about chemistry with other actors, about interpretation, presence, energy, understanding of the role, ability to distinguish from others and offering the most clever and valuable bribes. Until the Assistant Director started handing out sheet music.

Sumamamaa...

What in the name of San Quentin is “Angst 2?!” A little panick shot through my veins, made itself at home in my stomach and ordered a bean burrito. I looked it over and, thankfully, recognized the first section. Didn’t know any of the middle. Knew the ending. I pulled the run home trick again (living across the street has its advantages), this time while they were working the supporting cast.  I got back just to see the Jekylls working on the song as a group. Not the best timing, to be sure. But I jumped in, sang terribly due to the lack of oxygen in my lungs, wiped the sweat off my face, and prayed to Heaven I wouldn’t be randomly picked first. I was.

“Danny, if you would...” I threw down the towel I had brought with me and was determined not to lose it here, on this last song, this last test of will, skill, and stamina that would make The Eliminator look like an evening at an old folks’ home. It helped that I felt mentally exhausted. It helped that the song questioned whether Jekyll was doing the right thing. And it helped that it built to an ending that has Jekyll pleading with the Heavens to give him the strength to carry on.

In other words, it was very easy to relate to at this stage.

It took me about 9 tries to find the first note and didn’t care. This wasn’t about looking good. This was about making sure everything was right. If they were going to disqualify me for looking for the first note after all I had shown them, then so be it. I sang, sat down, and knew I had given them everything. I then watched these three titans of the stage give it everything they had (all the other auditioners  had been excused by this point). I did not envy the decision makers. Sometimes having so many incredible choices makes it so much harder than not liking any one of your choices as much as you’d like.  It felt like I had already been in a show run with these guys. We had bonded over the last two days of competition. I think there was a healthy respect between all of us. At least there was from me towards them. I impulsively sought out to shake each of their hands afterword. I felt honored to have been included in the same group. They were awesome.

With words of concern for their task ahead, the real director thanked us and told us the decisions would be made before the following Monday (five days away?!) That’s a lot of time for analysis. A lot of time to decide on why they won’t be calling - plenty of reasons. Those guys...But I have no regrets. No matter what happens from here on in, the combination of beating Tommy Tubberman and knowing without doubt I gave it everything, I will have no regrets. No “if only’s” or “what if’s” to shadow the memory. I had done what I set out to do. Whether or not I would be able to cross another item off my bucket list is up to someone else
(so stupid).