The Science of Auditions

February is coming to an end and that means audition season is fully back into swing. I've had six auditions this month! I've felt good about all of them, and excited that my new headshots are getting out there (especially since one of the six auditions was LOWT).

Having been faced with all these recent auditions, I am once again struck with the funny way in which actors strategize and theorize about how an audition is going/went.

For instance, with LOWT and other cattle call auditions, some people have specific times of day that they think it is better to audition at. If you are attending a three-day audition, what's the best way to get remembered? To go on the first day? To go on the last day? Do you go before lunch? Or right after? I mean, I think probably just doing a kick-ass monologue might be the way to go, but I know some actors really think about when their slot is.

This is not to say that I don't think about how I'm going to handle an audition. In fact, in addition to new headshots, these auditions all saw the debut of new pieces from me. I figured after three years in DC, every company had seen my standard monologues -- Portia from Merchant of Venice and Doris from My Mother Said I Never Should. I love these pieces, but it was time to move on.

So having spent a month working on Comedy of Errors, I decided to try to work up a piece from that (even though it wasn't the character I was playing --- shhhh, don't tell). It went really well, and I got a call back for that company. So I think it was a piece that I will keep and continue to work with.

I also brought out a new contemporary monologue which I used for LOWT and the other three auditions. This one is from a British play called After Haggerty, and it is actually I monologue that I found probably about five years ago. I've been wanting to use it ever since, but it wasn't coming to fruition or really clicking -- I didn't think I was getting parts of the character that I needed to. But after stewing about with it for a few years, I feel like it's gotten to where it needs to be. I can certainly still find places to go with it, but now I feel that it is audition ready.

Some monologues take a day to be audition ready, some five years...

I was reminded last night at a callback how funny we actors are in those situations as well. We try and figure out what the director is thinking, what the pairings mean, what it means if we read one side once, but another side five times. And the truth is, we have no freaking clue. And thinking about it won't give us any insights. But we do it anyway. Even I do it, pretending to be so nonchalant and collected, my synapses are firing away.

I was at the callback with two female friends of mine, and three three of us had the same three sides for the same two roles. Friend A was told she could leave. She had read all three sides, but only one of the roles. Friend B and I were there the entire time. Friend B read all three sides, and multiple times. I read each side only once. Friend B was given direction. I was not.

So when Friend A was worrying that she was done earlier and she was watching who was being called in to read with whom, I'll admit to being somewhat disingenuous when I told her, "Don't worry about it. It doesn't mean anything." Because I was sitting there trying to figure out what was going on. We all do it.  We're actors. We're neurotic.

Really, it's probably just that they had a list of readers and scenes prepared ahead of time, and it just so happens the order we were asked to read finished her before it finished me. You can't really tell what a director is thinking. I've had auditions where I've read once and gotten the role. I've had auditions where I've read multiple times and not gotten cast. And vice versa. All you can do is have a good time and play those intentions. And leaving the worrying out in the lobby.

And I did have a good time. What I like about auditions is the fact that even if you don't get cast, it's as if you've played that role, even for just a small amount of time. These sides were short, and my goal was to make sure I was active in each one, and I feel I achieved that. I also like auditions because you meet new actors and run into ones you already know. John Stange was there, whom I had worked with in a stellar production of The Cripple of Inishmaan at Silver Spring Stage. I playing Helen, and he playing Babbybobby, our characters talked about each other, but didn't get much actual stage interaction. Therefore, it was really nice to get to read a side with John. It was a very short side, but frankly, I think we rocked it. Auditions are the best when you get to read with actors that give something back to you. And luckily, that was the case with all my scene partners. So I got to feel like each time I read I was performing a mini-play.

Just one more note on auditions (this is a long post!). I so appreciate it when theatre companies take the time to maintain good will with actors. Frankly, they don't have to. They have all the power, because we want jobs and we want to be onstage and we will show up to audition whether they are nice to us or not. So it means a lot when an artistic director takes the time to thank you for your contribution. Even when it is a form letter sent to everyone, it means something. Because they don't have to do anything. They don't have to contact you one way or the other.

This thought comes up because this morning Washington Shakespeare Company sent out the classiest thanks for auditioning email I think I have ever gotten. They had an open call earlier this month (the only open call I can recall them having in the three years I've lived here), and actors flocked to it. In fact, according to the email, they saw 150 people. And they are only casting five plays (two of them in rep). 150 actors. Anyway they sent this email to everyone to thank us for coming out. And this wasn't even the "thanks but no thanks" email. Because I don't believe they've started the callback process yet. They were just thanking everyone. Christopher Henley's note was kind, humorous, and genuine. And it may be a small gesture, but it's one that helps me feel like a person and not just another number. Class act, WSC, class act.

PS. They are opening their season with Schiller's Mary Stuart. I saw the London-to-Broadway transfer this past year, and it was stellar. I can't wait to see what WSC does with it!