Mama Mayhem

Mama’s no diva. Just call her Miss Bernstein

By Ivy Jensen


For anyone.

Unfortunately, it is part of life and everyone will go through it at some point

As many of you know, I recently auditioned for EMTC's Little Shop of Horrors and had my heart set on starring as one of the female trio (Crystal, Ronette and Chiffon).

After not making the cut in my high-school rendition, I was desperate to have another crack at it.

Did it matter that I was a couple of decades older than the girls?

Well, I'm sure a few beauty treatments and a few layers of make-up could see me pass as a hip 20-year-old, right?

Well, if Donald Trump can become president of the US, anything's possible right?

So in I went to my audition, with high hopes and nerves.

And with a panel of eight ready to judge my every move and utterance, the old throat started to dry up and my hands started to shake. Stupid anxiety.

Anyhoo, I managed to sing my way through two quite difficult songs without breaking any windows - and all the while attempting to dazzle the panel with my best American street accent.

I'm still not sure if the judges were laughing at me or with me?

And then comes the waiting. Which is even worse than the audition itself.

“Was I good enough?", "Were the jazz hands too much?" "Did I nail the moonwalk?".

When that phone call finally comes, it's a terrifying relief.

After starring as Morticia in The Addams Family last year, you could say my expectations were sky high.

And they came crashing down fast.

“You did a strong audition but the standard was so high ..." and you know the rest.

It took me down a peg or two. Which I probably needed.

I was lucky enough to be offered the role of Bernstein, an uptown bigshot from NBC who offers Seymour his own gardening show.

And in this day and age of gender equality, I will be Miss Bernstein (because I'm too busy and successful to be married).

Even though this is a minor role, I'm hoping it will be a memorable one.

Now I understand this show is not about me, and it's someone else's turn to shine. And, I'm good with that. I'm no diva.

Am I going to take over the trio's rendition of Skid Row? Of course not.

Am I going to knock over the leading lady to get in the spotlight? I mean, if the spotlight happens to be where I'm standing, I can't really help that.

Am I going to sabotage someone's briefcase so they can't open it at that crucial moment to make them look stupid. No, I've already done that.

So no-one has anything to worry about.

But in all seriousness, amateur theatre should be selfless and benevolent.

No production relies on just one person.

It takes an entire cast and crew, from the leads to the ensemble, from the directors to the costumers and backstage crew to make it a success.

And volunteering your time and skills not only so you can be in the spotlight, but to make your fellow cast members shine.

Being a part of local theatre is a chance to improve yourself and others, to entertain and inform your community and give you and others enjoyment.

And that's something I plan on doing a lot of during the next four months.