The Brooklyn Ink

The circular bar at Club Passion, located in Midwood, Brooklyn. (Photo by Ross Den)

By Mary Plummer

Beneath a booming dance floor, accessible only by traipsing down a steep, plywood staircase, was a narrow rectangular room holding the chance at something special for a few lucky Russian-Americans: fame.

It was 11 p.m. and inside the room were Elina Miller, Alina Dizik and Christine Mahin. The trio are co-creators of Brighton Beach, a reality show they’re pitching to networks and hoping will be Brooklyn’s version of MTV’s smash hit, “Jersey Shore.” The show would follow eight Russian-Americans as they party hard at a Brooklyn summerhouse. Saturday night’s task was audition interviews, which were being filmed in the basement of Club Passion, a popular nightclub in Midwood frequented by Russian-Americans.

Small herds of hopefuls in their twenties made their way down the staircase, drinks teetering. A smiley face drawn in permanent marker on their hand granted them access; it meant they’d been scouted by a Brighton Beach team member upstairs. No one seemed particularly nervous—the line for auditions was an extension of the dance floor upstairs. People laughed as they filled out release forms, amused.

“Is there a bathroom here?” blurted David Treybich as soon as he entered the interview room. Treybich was tall and blonde, wearing a tight gray T-shirt that showed off his bulging biceps. When asked the craziest thing he could remember doing, he told a story about running around campus naked when he was pledging for his fraternity. He finished his interview by showing the camera a high kick (a signature move from his day job as a personal trainer).

Treybich was followed by a constant flow of people trying out. Each got two minutes or so to answer questions from the show creators and make their case.

When asked the craziest thing she’d done recently, Tatiyana Manuela didn’t quite seem to get the point of the show. “It’s bad, I can’t even talk about it on camera,” she said with a laugh. But she was dressed for the part, in an electric blue, strapless mini dress with a plunging neckline.

Many hopefuls campaigned for a spot on the show by describing their love of vodka.  Garrett Zhubrak was one of those. He wore an oversized T-shirt and untied Nike sneakers. He wanted to be cast so he could teach non-Russians how to “party for real” and “show them how to drink real vodka, none of this girly nonsense,” he said.

Internet marketer Boris Zilberman told the casting team about a trip he took to Israel. While walking on the beach he came across a woman selling vodka. He wanted a bottle. When he realized he had no cash, Boris took off his shirt and tried to barter. As he recalls the transaction, “She gave me the bottle of vodka for my magic bouncing pecs.”

The ladies running the casting operation didn’t want to say who their favorites were. But this was the second and final casting event, they said, before they’ll take the show to the networks.

By 1:30 a.m. the dance floor upstairs was packed. A cocktail waitress, her hair in a tight bun, pranced through the crowd with two bottles held high over her head. Attached to the top of the bottles were flaming sparklers, which blazed through the dark of the club. As she dropped them off at a table on the edge of the dance floor, everyone cheered.

It was vodka, of course. The party was just gaining speed.