WHAT A SUPER HEARS
A tongue-in-cheek look at the casting process
Come one and all to the Opera fall season
Meat Market!!

UNDER THE WATCHFUL EYE OF THE ASSISTANT DIRECTORS AND STAGE MANAGERS, SUPERS CAME FROM FAR AND WIDE, BRAVING THE EVER-PRESENT BAY AREA TRAFFIC, STIFLING HEAT, BONE-CHILLING FOG AND THE EVER-WATCHFUL EYE OF THE METER MAIDS FOR A CHANCE OF A LIFETIME.

Nerves were strained and tensions ran high as we gathered for the fall season audition on Friday, August 5. For many it was like a class reunion, or an annual family gathering, or perhaps one of those Sun Myung Moon mass weddings.

We strutted our stuff in front of our fellow Supers and those sweet and cuddly assistant directors and directors who, in previous auditions, have kept us standing around for hours, only to decide later that we’re not the right “type.”

We missed that whole new crop of 18–30 year olds who would compete for a small walk-on role in this season’s stunner, Doctor Atomic. Maybe they had something else to do in their lives for three months, or perhaps they needed to pay the rent.

The women spent endless hours working out with the new “Suzanne Sommers Breast Blaster” in preparation for baring their lovely bosoms in La Forza del Destino, as witnessed by Susan Anderson Norby and her band of Mammary Maidens.

The testosterone level soared as our usual group of talented Supers nearly scratched each other’s eyes out in order to play one of those 20–35 year old “muscular but not necessarily body builder” characters in Norma.

We watched as two assistant directors fought to the death over which one would have us in their production, where we will be dressed in trench coat and fedora with our backs to the audience, upstage, in complete darkness, behind a scrim.

It was clear that Supers heeded the warning to get to the gym in preparation for a role as one of the guys in L’Italiana in Algeri who are “capable of carrying things on and off stage,” or as the mean-yet-funny Vlad, complete with his enormous tool. And who could resist wearing one of those “cool” animal costumes for two performances a day in The Magic Flute in front of an audience of screaming children?

So now we wait. Will I get a call? Should I check my email every hour on the hour? Did I overact that little exercise, or was I just a bit over-the-top? The dust is settling and egos are healing. It’s just another day in the life of a Super.

— Paul Szczesiul