Disney World Gone Wild

HARTFORD, Conn. (Hartford Advocate) – In hindsight, I realized the shirt was a mistake. I showed up to the Oct. 21 Disney character audition in Glastonbury, wearing the beat-up, faded EuroDisney T-shirt. I thought the shirt, which had a picture of Mickey Mouse that through wear had become distended into a Ralph Steadman-esque parody, would earn me some brownie points from the judges. When I walked into the Greater Hartford Dance Academy, where the auditions were held, I was met with a modest smack of laughter from the group of Disney character hopefuls and their parents. Most of the 30-odd auditoners sitting in the main room were young women who looked to be in their senior year of high school or fresh-man year of college. They wore dancers' clothes and looked for the most part like they competed in re-gional beauty pageants. I was one of four males trying out and was at least 10 years older than the me-dian auditioning age. When I sat down among the Disney character hopefuls, indulgent stage parents and framed paintings of young children in ballet gear, I almost immediately zipped up my jacket, covering the shirt. The Disney people brought the candidates into the main room five people at a time to check them in. I couldn't figure out the cattle call order, so I ended up going in last. Once inside, I signed my name to a document, got measured and had my photo taken. Then I was given a sticker with my assigned number written on it.

The advertisement for the audition, which ran for two successive weeks in the Advocate, didn't include a couple of pertinent details. The ad featured a picture of Snow White smiling with one of the seven dwarfs (Dopey?), and a little girl looking up toward the dwarf, perched to kiss his bulbous nose. Stars, no doubt for wishing upon, were littered through the background. The ad said "Disney animated character look-alikes" must have a "positive attitude," a "good speaking voice" and should "resemble the character." Qualified candidates would be asked to "demonstrate effective non-verbal communication skills." It ad-vised interested parties to wear tennis shoes and comfortable attire and to arrive a half-hour before the audition began. What it neglected to mention was that a) there would be no costumes involved and b) dancing would be required. I was shocked and mortified when the casting director told me that we'd be performing a "fun, simple dance routine." In my defense, I was definitely not the only one surprised by the expectation of dancing. One girl complained loudly that while she was fully prepared to sing, dancing was another matter altogether.

At a little after 10, the toxically perky dance instructor herded the group into the studio dance floor space. She showed us a multi-step dance routine that we were expected to follow. It started simply, with march-ing in place, then moved on to hand claps, spinning, kicking and a dramatic, cartoonish flourish called "present to your neighbor." I was lost after about the fifth move. My commitment to participatory journal-ism had reached its limit. I ripped my sticker off, and sulked back into the waiting room to watch the rest of the audition process on the television monitor. The next stage looked easier, but far stranger, than the first. It was an animation exercise, and basically amounted to a bunch of sloppy miming. The candidates were supposed to mimic an action of their choice, in big, humorous gestures. I couldn't tell what a single one of them was trying to do.

After a break, the prospective employees were called back into the studio two at a time for a second wave of auditions. The curtains on the windows into the room were pulled shut, and the television monitor which had been broadcasting a feed from the room was changed to Dr. Phil . Several candidates prac-ticed the dance routine inside the first room, as well as outside in the packed parking lot. There was a lot of nervous energy, but people seemed upbeat and positive. I left, assuming that there was nothing more to see. That turned out to be a mistake. Apparently the organizers hadn't notice that I had taken myself out of the competition and called my name. I regret not being around for that. It could have been fun. But, apparently, even if I had not been totally inept, I would have blown my chances anyway. They were look-ing for a specific height range; I would have missed the cut by three inches.