Advertisement

The Biggest Character Gets the Role : Entertainment: Disney’s Ducks hockey team auditions a flock of wild and crazy guys to be their cheerleader, known as the Iceman.

Share
TIMES STAFF WRITER

The Iceman cometh. But what will he be?

A keyboard wizard windmilling crazed rock riffs on the electronic synthesizer slung over his neck? A singing Bobby Orr? Groucho Marx on skates? Or an imp with the musical facility of a Henry Mancini clambering over seat backs like the cast from “Hair” to confront patrons with goofy non sequiturs?

Fans of the Anaheim Ducks, the Walt Disney Co.’s new pro hockey franchise, won’t learn the identity of the team’s cheerleader until opening night, Oct. 8.

A near-final round of auditions were held at a Burbank sound studio Friday for the high-energy, totally uninhibited, weirdly comedic personality who’s being kept in a state of theatrical mystery.

Advertisement

No facial shots, please! Just get the body language, the stage persona, the uniqueness of it all.

True to its heritage, Disney is looking for a kind of living cartoon to circulate through Anaheim Arena, stirring up the fans of its National Hockey League expansion team.

Auditions for the multifaceted role got started a few weeks ago, when 138 keyboard players answered the open casting call.

The early cuts were easy. There just aren’t that many guys who can play keyboards and ice skate and do improvisational theater and ace a pop quiz on the rules of hockey.

“The guys that came down from a lounge in Encino, we had to get rid of them right away,” said J. Kevin Frawley, manager of talent resources for the entertainment division of Disneyland.

It came down to four on Friday, when some of Disney’s entertainment brass assembled at Screenland I Studios on Burbank Boulevard to make the final selection. Only two finalists actually auditioned. One was called away on a family emergency and another called in to reschedule.

The first performer barred the press. He’s got a real job and didn’t want his employer to know he was looking.

Advertisement

He was very musical, but he didn’t seem like a real high-intensity guy.

While he played, a competitor, identifying himself as the keyboard player for Disneyland’s Tomorrowland Terrace Band, paced outside.

“I’m getting this gig,” he said, sweating under his frizzly blond curls.

He barely passed the ice-skating test, he said. He couldn’t do the “hockey stop”--stopping on a dime on the ice--but they’d said they would teach him.

When his turn came, he started his routine with a macho, “Hello Anaheim! Are you ready to rock the pond?”

He played a mean number on the keyboard, twisting his face in concentration as he hammered out shrieking highs until his hand gave out. He continued to play with the left, grimacing for the judges as he worked the cramps out of the right.

Next he played an equally energized number on the guitar, scissoring his legs like the Who’s Pete Townshend.

The judges applauded when it was over.

Then Michael Coleman, director of Ducks’ entertainment, popped a surprise question: “Do you know what icing is?”

Advertisement

“Isn’t that where you spray ice up?” the young man said, mimicking the hockey stop.

Finally Coleman asked him just to let go and be weird, like walking up to a fan and saying, “I’ve got three eyes.”

Besides skating with the keyboard, Coleman explained, the Iceman will work the crowds, from the box seats to the upper deck, hamming for the stadium’s big screen.

“Wow, this is new for me,” the performer said, pondering what to do.

Then, walking up behind Frawley, who was stationed in a chair as the guinea pig, he said:

“Who’s your daddy? Who’s your daddy?”

“Good!” Coleman said.

Afterward, the judges had a mini-conference. Their problem was that one contestant had the best compositional skill, one was the best performer, one had great stage appeal and one knew hockey inside and out.

“We’re waffling,” Frawley said.

“We’re not quite there with the overall concept,” added Coleman.

But it’s a safe bet that this will not be a mousy organist hidden in a booth playing a limpid “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.”

Advertisement