February 25, 2011
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Auditions for Dummies
(or, Ten steps to Terrific Try-outs)aNNa’S NoTe: This is a repost from the last time I auditioned for a show – in 2002, believe it or not! I’m putting it on my blog again today, because tonight is my first audition since I did “Sound of Music” back then. Tonight? I audition for “Midsummer Night’s Dream”. I am rather apprehensive, truth be told. It’s been nearly a decade. I’m five kids chubbier, ten years older, and… well, the only two roles I stand a chance for are Hippolyta or the Fairy Queen. I’m just too old for Hermia or Helena, anymore. I’m hoping (personally) for Hippolyta – it’s a smaller part, nicer for getting back into the swing of things. My Lydia is coming along – hoping to be a fairy in the Queen’s court. We shall see how we do!
There are certain things you have to know about auditions if you ever consider trying out for a show. Since tonight is auditions for a show with my theatre group, this is my refresher. Feel free to laugh at me or simply delete this. Whatever.
There are two nights, and then callbacks. The FIRST thing you need to know is that they expect you to be at both auditions. And this, my friends, is BS. Pretend you don’t know about it. Why sit there for 4 hours two nights in a row watching people sing better than you and get discouraged? To get around this, just go the SECOND night. That way you’re fresh in their mind when they sit down to hash out what they like after the final contestant leaves. And you missed all the better-than-you performers from night one.
SECONDLY, be prepared. Know what you’re going to sing. Memorize it, if possible. Know it inside and out. Be ready to sing it a cappella in case the pianist breaks an arm. (Lydia knows my song… she sings “ah di ah deeeeeeee ah nahhhhie!”.) Belt that baby out… quiet singers are an immediate turn-off, because they’ll figure you have no volume and audience won’t be able to hear you, and they don’t want to waste time teaching you to project. If you don’t sing out, don’t bother auditioning.
THIRDLY, act confident. Even if you’re scared spitless. Even if there’s not a soul there that you know. They’re going to expect you to walk out in front of an audience of people you don’t know – and you’ll be scared spitless then, too - and perform. So they want to see it now to be sure you can do it. Drip with confidence.
FOURTHLY… SMILE!!! Smile encouragingly at those performing (they’re scared spitless, too.) Smile gratefully at the lady collecting profile sheets. Smile amicably at the kid next to you. Smile tolerantly at the egotistical jerk who’s over-doing. Smile sympathetically at at the girl who has to leave every two minutes to pee. This shows you can get along with every persnickity actor they cast in the show. And it shows you won’t be the problem child.
FIFTH, wear something comfortable. Some directors expect you to fall in line and do some dance steps. (That happened when I auditioned for ‘Oklahoma’… which was dumb, but whatever.) If you’re in a short leather skirt and high heels, you’ll be stylin’… but awkward.
SIXTH, NEVER apologize. Don’t tell them your voice is off because you’re getting over a cold, or that you didn’t hit that note because it wasn’t in your range… they’ll roll their eyes at you and think ‘AMATEUR’. If you goof so bad that you want to cry, simply square your shoulders, smile, and ask to start again. But if it’s a little flub, don’t dramatize it. They might not have even noticed.
SEVENTH, don’t copycat. When reading time comes and someone gets up and does a stellar job, don’t mimic their every inflection. Do your own thing. Look for ways to be different. Subtle changes. They don’t want to hear it the same way twelve times.
EIGHTH, if you don’t get a call by six o’clock the next night, you didn’t make the cut. Sorry Charlie. Don’t bother calling anyone. Just nurse your hurt with popcorn and a rootbeer float… and if you want, call and offer to work backstage. And if you’re extra sensitive like me, keep chanting ‘I’m not getting a part, anyhow’… so that the blow won’t put you into a full-blown, I-need-Prozac depression.
NINTH, if they ask if you’ll change your haircut/haircolor/etc, always say YES. You aren’t committing to buzz it off, you’re committing to being flexible. If you aren’t flexible, you aren’t an actor.
AND LASTLY, be sure to tell them your conflicts for the next three months. They don’t want someone who works three nights a week and can’t get out of it playing a lead. They don’t want to find out that you can’t be there for press review. And you can kiss ANY part goodbye if you have a conflict on the night of a performance. Getting a part means dinner out of a box for the next three months. It means not seeing the in-laws ((thank you, Lord!)). It means you are desperate for a night home by the time it’s over.
And now you’re ready to go in there and shine.
Forget past mistakes. Forget failures. Forget everything except what you’re going to do now and do it.
– William Durant, founder of General Motors
Comments (4)
Good luck to both of you! Umm…Break a leg!
Good list. I think you’re right on all counts. At our little community theatre it is rare someone doesn’t get a part, but it is very hard to get the “good” parts.
Good Luck!!!!
It went alright… but we won’t find out until SUNDAY who got parts or not, because there was a HUGE lack of male actors who turned out, and they’re scrambling to find ANYONE who might want to play a part, at this point. There’s never enough guys, but I think we’re in need of some MAJOR players this time.
FWIW, they had me read for Queen Titania *SIX* times, Hippolyta only once. This frightens me, btw. LoL!!