pensnest | Entries tagged with auditions

It would be very useful and salutory for each and every member of an amateur musical and/or dramatic society to sit on an audition panel at least once. The view is so different, and it would do us all good.

Generally our audition panel will be Director, Musical Director and musical committee member who isn't auditioning. Sometimes a choreographer too. It can be useful, especially when the Director and MD are not members of the society, or not regulars with that society, to have someone who knows their fellow members and can point out things that may not show up at an audition—like, this person is incapable of remembering the words, this person misses more rehearsals than should be allowed, this one is a pain in the arse, that kind of thing. I've been on audition panels both as a representative of the Company, and as the Director.

We generally work in one of two possible modes: closed, or open. At a closed audition, the candidates all assemble in the Green Room and are called one at a time to perform their bit for the panel. In an open audition, everyone gets to watch everyone else's auditions, except where they are competing for the same role, in which case those yet to have their turn wait in the Green Room. I think there's a lot to be said for the open model. Not least among its advantages is that when everyone has witnessed the audition (at least, the first one—there may, of course, be callbacks) everyone has a fair idea why this person was cast and that person was not. It helps a lot with avoiding the post-audition speculation about how so-and-so only got the part because "the director likes her", etc.

Yes, well. From behind that table, you see things differently. For starters, you can tell almost at once if someone's voice is good enough for them to do the role. We could tell half the people to stop after eight bars, seriously. And that, sometimes, would be a lot kinder to our ears than letting them get through the entire number. On reflection, you can tell almost at once if the person auditioning is just not up to the part. If they're not great, it takes a little longer.

It's also fascinating to see just how much difference it makes when someone has really prepared. Not just learned the words, but figured out appropriate movements and expressions. It's not absolutely necessary—at least not at our auditions, where some people do clutch their lib in a trembling grasp—but it's really helpful to the production team. It's just so much easier to see someone's potential when they take the trouble to show it to you—which ought to be a good enough incentive for everyone auditioning to do their homework. (An aside: it's such a shame when people audition for roles they really aren't suited to. Young lads going for the middle-aged leader-of-men role; middle-aged women trying for the ingenue; people who just don't fit the basic requirements—I'm not talking about the talent level, here, because it's damn difficult to assess your own abilities, but it's not so very hard to assess the role.)

Sometimes the decision is really easy—of the three candidates, one came out and shone. But I've never been on an audition panel that did not discuss each and every candidate for a role, even when the decision was blindingly obvious. Can we use this person somewhere else? Is there a minor role in this show that they'd be right for? The directing team is always, in my experience, careful and fair in discussing candidates, even when it is glaringly obvious that a candidate cannot be cast in the role he or she wants to play.

As I said in my previous post, sometimes people do do a great audition but still don't get the part. From behind the table, you have to consider the balance of the cast. Relative ages, appearances, chemistry (if you have a chance to assess it). Experience. I remember two prospective leading men for a musical, one of whom could really sing and could act about as well as a tree trunk, the other of whom could just about sing but was a convincing romantic lead. We went with the latter—his singing improved, and in any case he was believable within the story, which the first one simply would not have been. You just have to pick the best option. Sometimes you get it wrong. I remember another difficult choice, where I think we probably did get it wrong, not least because the one we didn't choose had established some, hmm, personality quirks that the directing team did not want to have to deal with. See, it's worth being a good team player—one day it might get you the role you want!

Because those opinions on why people get cast? Mostly way off mark. Directors and MDs may have their own little quirks, but by and large what they want is a quality cast, a quality show. They aren't looking to cast their 'pets' in the teeth of awesome opposition—it's just that the people directors cast tend to be, well, the best ones available, and that's why they get cast again and again. Of course, directors are just as human as the rest of us, with quirks great and small, and sometimes they do make inexplicable decisions. That's showbusiness, I guess.

Yes, indeed, experiencing the audition from the other side of the table would be useful for everyone. It'd reduce the post-audition griping. It'd give cast members a better appreciation for how and why the cast was chosen the way it was. And I suspect it would improve the quality of auditions...

The audition is not the only thing that gets you the part.

You have to do it (usually). You have to get up there and throw yourself into this thing you haven't really rehearsed and hope that in the mind-blanking heat of the moment you actually produce what you meant to produce and don't forget your words or whatever.

But the thing is, you can do a good audition and still not get the part.

Sometimes, you don't get it because, while you did a good audition, someone else did a great one. It's… just tough.

Sometimes, you don't get it because although you did a good audition, you don't look right for the part. Perhaps it comes down to physicality, like height—you're too tall to fit against the leading man, or your counterpart is skinny and you are broad, or… anyway.That's harsh, but there's nothing you can do.

More broadly, the directing team are casting a whole ensemble, who have to fit together, and if you don't work in combination with the others... tough.

Sometimes you don't get it because the directing team have seen you in other stuff and don't believe you're up to it, even if you do produce the goods at the audition.

Sometimes someone else has vowed not to do the show unless they get a part, and you've expressed a willingness to be in the chorus.

Sometimes they've worked with you before and vowed never to do so again. Bed, made, lie.

And there are probably others I've forgotten for the moment.

So there are lots of ways you can not get a part, and many of them don't involve not deserving it.

Conversely, you can actually do a bad audition and *still* get the part because… the director's worked with you before and knows you can produce the goods, or everybody else did a bad audition and you're the least of the possible evils, or nobody else wanted the part and it's not important enough to go to enormous lengths to fill, or you look perfect and they think they can work with you, or the directing team have seen you on stage elsewhere and believe you can do better than your audition.

In the way of amateur groups, people will make their own stories about why they did not get The Part, or why someone else got it instead of their favoured candidate. I've known people who simply weren't good enough actors to be cast express the firm belief that the director always picks her favourites. I've seen plenty of people audition for a part that they simply cannot be cast in because they're so wrong for it. I've known the audition panel to just get it wrong*. I've known people to be cast because they do a great audition, who then develop no further and are rubbish in the actual part.

It's a hideous process, but it's necessary, and there are so many reasons, good and bad, why a good audition might not get you the part.

Yeah. I didn't get the part.

* Long ago, but unforgettably, I auditioned for Adelaide Adams in Calamity Jane, a role which seemed to me to require a 25-year-old alto with big tits. I did a good audition, I know I did, but would not have been surprised or aggrieved to lose out to the prettier alto with bigger tits (who got very nervous at auditions).

They cast a 60-year-old soprano. Who was lovely, but—really?

{Take the 100 Things challenge!}

I've signed up for the 100 blogs challenge, with Amateur Theatre as my subject matter. I've been a member of an amateur theatre group for well over twenty years now, involved as a member of the musical chorus, occasionally as a principal, as a director, and with the management and running of the group, so I think there's plenty of material for me to draw on.

There's not much point in trying to set everything down in an orderly way. I can't even define what 'the beginning' is, so I'll write about topics as they occur to me, and hope to be interesting.

So, read on!

The Audition

I went to an audition yesterday morning. My Company is to put on Sweeney Todd in October, and I couldn't be more delighted. I adore the show, and for years I've wanted the chance to be in it. But I didn't believe we could cast it… and now, I think we can, and we'll have a great show on our hands.

But back to the topic at hand, which for today is, The Audition.

I don't know anyone who likes auditioning. It's the most frightening part of the entire process. You're up there, unsupported by rehearsal, by fellow-actors, by costume or set, you're not rock-solid sure of your notes (because have you *seen* the score for Sweeney?) or when to come in or where to get your pitch from the morass of bizarre rhythms that is your introduction. There just hasn't been enough time to rehearse with the pianist. Plus, the person reading-in the dialogue has had no practice.

I had to wait for quite a while before I even got up onto the stage. This was an open audition, by which I mean that everyone was seated in the hall, watching each audition. I mostly approve of this system: it's much less nerve-racking to have something to watch instead of being in a room full of excessively nervous people all reinforcing one another's terror. It gives you an audience you can play to. Plus, there was applause for everyone, which helps, particularly if you don't get the part and therefore won't ever be singing that number again.

But in this case, it meant I had to sit through five or six Sweeneys, three Mrs Lovetts, six (or seven?) Johannas, four Anthonys, two Pirellis and a Toby before I got on stage to do my Beggar Woman, by which time I'd drunk three glasses of water and been to the loo twice. It does give you an appreciation for the importance of preparation, I must say, sitting watching other people getting up onto the stage to do their stuff.

How 'easy' an audition is depends a lot on what you have to sing/say. The Johannas, for instance, got to sing Green Finch and Linnet Bird, and that's a lovely song… the first three or four times, anyway. It's a coherent piece, and once you've started you keep on going, and if you sing it without the book you can add actions, and that's fine. For the Beggar Woman, the audition was three very short bits, each of which had at least one mood change, and two of which had dialogue which had to fit over music in time for me to pick up the musical cue to sing again. And my reader-in was not familiar with it, and kept not being able to find his lines, so. Yeah. I mean, the Beggar Woman is a very bitty, jagged role with lots of mood changes so fair enough, but man, it was a tough thing to audition.

I'm not sure whether the fluttery tummy, dry throat, trembly feelings in the legs, etc were worse for having to wait, or if I'd perhaps had a chance to settle down a bit by the time it was my turn. I think I did myself justice, or at least, I did perform most of what I'd prepared, and I think it came across. Then again, who knows? Possibly I was rubbish. It's pretty hard to tell, when you're too nervous to think straight. Oh, and speaking of nerves, I was more keyed up than even I had realised, and it took me all afternoon to calm down again.

It just goes to show, though, why auditions are so, so much more frightening than performances. I've had stage fright before, but audition fright is worse because you *don't* have that level of confidence that comes from knowing what you're doing, from having a whole production around you to complete the picture. For an audition, you come in cold and have to establish a character out of almost nothing, and if you screw it up there isn't another scene later in which you can make amends. But it is essential, because what else can you do?