"I HOPE I GET IT!"

02.24.2025

Let me take you back to a time when I served on the production board of a local community theatre. Our primary responsibility was selecting the shows for each new season.

We always tried to avoid productions that had been staged repeatedly by every theatre in the region. Professional houses always got first dibs on the rights, leaving community theatres hovering nearby like understudies waiting impatiently in the wings.

When rights finally became available, the discussion would inevitably lead to a board member sighing, “I don’t know… we’re going to need really good actors for that show.”

This always tempted me to ask: “What show would we do that doesn’t require good actors? Who starts a production thinking, ‘Our Elphaba couldn't hit that high note with the help of a flying monkey, but as long as the harness holds her up during Defying Gravity, we're good’?”

I’ve been thinking about that lately because next week I’ll be sitting at a table holding auditions for a show I’m about to direct. To be honest, the process is both exhilarating and vomit-inducing.

It’s exhilarating because I’m finally going to see the physical manifestation of characters I’ve been studying and falling in love with for months.

It’s vomit-inducing because I’m praying my "Spidey-senses" are at full capacity. I’m not just looking for someone who can play the role; I’m trying to assess the characteristics of an actor that a 90-minute audition session can’t always reveal.

What am I really looking for? 

I need to know four things: Can they play the part? Can they memorize lines? Can they take direction? And—crucially—how easy are they to work with?

Of course, I look for the basics: Can they be heard? Do they articulate? Do they actually understand what they’re reading? (That last one isn't always a given.) Then there are the factors the actor can't control, like plausibility. For this show, the characters are aged 18–28. I know brilliant actors I’d love to cast, but they are a few decades past that range. It’s not personal; it’s the script.

I’m also wary of the "Narcissus." This is the actor who announces to everyone within earshot that they’ve played the part before to great acclaim. Suddenly, I’m competing with their own idealized version of a past performance. They’ve fallen madly in love with their version of a character, and they can’t understand why I haven’t, too. I have cast a Narcissus before, and despite my best efforts, I ended up with... well, Narcissus.

I try to remember that auditions are a time when an actor’s nerves are on full display (sometimes more so than opening night). Like poker players, they have unconscious habits—pacing, brushing hair from their face, stuffing hands into pockets. If you see it in auditions, you will see it onstage. The question becomes: Do I really want Hamlet wandering the castle brushing his hair back with one hand while the other is permanently lodged in the pocket of his pumpkin pants?

The Great Unknowns 

The biggest gamble is line memorization. A director can do almost anything for an actor, but I can't memorize the words for them. Twice I have ended up with actors who couldn’t hold the lines, and no miracle was forthcoming. I nearly wore out the theatre floor pacing, praying the show would be performed in the order it was written. It wasn't. It did a massive disservice to the rest of the cast, who never knew from one night to the next which scene would be rearranged or skipped over completely. I learned then that the minute you realize it isn't getting better, you have to be brave enough to recast.

The other thing I won’t know is how they behave during rehearsals and performances. Most actors are a joy to work with (why direct if you don’t like working with actors?) but every once in a while I’ve ended up with an actor who was determined to push every one of my—and the rest of the cast and crew’s—last button. There’s nothing pretty about this scenario. Trust me, no one wants a ticket to that performance.

Most directors start as actors. We’ve all had that "dream part" we’d donate an organ to play. It’s crushing when you aren't cast, even when you're perfect.

But now, imagine you’re directing The Wizard of Oz and your most talented performer is 6'8" but they will only accept the role of the Mayor of Munchkinland. The audience won't see a postmodern statement on authority and power; they’ll wonder how an NBA center found their way onto the Yellow Brick Road.

The Two-Way Street 

There’s one more reason I get nervous: I’m being auditioned, too. The theatre community in my neck of the woods is tight. You don’t want a reputation as the director no one wants to work with. You want actors you've worked with telling others they had a good experience working with you. So I remind myself to be prepared, professional, polite, and most of all, patient.

My goal at auditions is to set a tone for the rest of rehearsals and performances. If no one is being joyfully, intellectually, and artistically challenged, what’s the point? I want the talent, but I also want kind, thoughtful individuals with a work ethic that matches mine. Without those quirky, wonderful talented artists, all any director is left with is a big room and empty chairs.

I’ll have more to share once rehearsals begin. But for now, I’ll leave you with the speech I give every cast on opening night:

“Tonight in New York City, on Broadway and Off, hundreds of actors are doing exactly what you’re about to do: go onstage and give an audience a night to remember. The only difference between them and you is a union card and a paycheck. So perform accordingly.”

Lucky me—they almost always do.

Sharing cast photos - the brilliant group of actors in GODSPELL who I had the privilege of directing. One of the absolute highlights of my career was working with this cast.

The final production of my master's program: COMPANY. This cast was perfection personified.

The cast of "Over the River and Through the Woods" - one of my favorite shows, with some of my favorite actors.