The Actual Way to Audition for Musicals and Stand Out from the Confusion Crowd
I had a shoot-myself-in-the-character-shoe habit back in my busy audition days.
I hid.
I mean, I was physically there. In the room. But I was playing a high-level game of hide and seek.
Only the table people didn’t know.
They thought I was coming in to share my ideas and preparation for a role. Silly.
Nope. Not my purpose.
I wanted to show a teeny facet of my skill set that I felt comfortable about. And then I wanted some wise person shuffling resumes to notice the ember of performance genius smoldering inside me just waiting them to get the bellows and provide the oxygen.
Like Pinocchio’s Blue Fairy, they’d say, “You know, you’re really terrific. The world needs what you have. We’re going to give you a lead role in our show because you’re so good. And when we do that, you’ll finally know that you’re a real boy.”
It never happened that way.
I mean, auditions led to roles, and I worked, but I lost count of the times my soul played possum in the audition room.
I obscured my energy. I didn’t share a clear point of view. I didn’t know what my point of view was.
Performers have this problem. Often, what draws us to the stage is people clapping for us. This was a big magnet for me.
We get the back pats, and so we set out to get more of them.
I did this in life too, always assessing what was going to garner approval from the big people around me. I wanted connection and support, so I paid attention to what got me that.
So, in the audition room in front of a table full of folks you probably don’t know and who aren’t there to develop a deep friendship, the cues for how to get the ‘at-a-boys are limited.
But I still looked.
I mean, I was still trying to figure out how to order in a NY Diner without losing my mind. Making integrated choices about a character’s psychological world was going to be a few years off.
But the problem was that I believed one central falsehood:
It was about me.
I mean, yes, my self-person was the one coming in the room singing the songs, but that’s not what the casting folk were concerned with.
They wanted to know if the B-flat on “Maria” was going wrong because I was sick or because my technique fell apart under pressure.
But it wasn’t about my eternal soul.
It was a simple question: Can this guy do the things we need in this show, and does he seem like a reasonable human to work with? Add to that all the other sausage making that goes into getting a show on a stage, and you see real quick that you’re the last thing they’re thinking about.
It’s liberating info.
And once I had a chance to see a few casting processes from behind the table, it became clear how fleeting an actor’s time in a room is.
Again, this was liberating.
Trying to guess what someone wants is a road to crazy town. In the audition room and in your relationships.
I mean, if you know your friend loves Magnolia Cupcakes, and it’s their birthday, you know what to do.
But trying to crack the code so you can win the approval prize is never a great setup. It tells the one you’re trying to please, “You’re above me, and you control my wellbeing.”
Nobody wants to be in charge of that.
The other thing this does? It makes what you’re offering cloudy. Instead of a clear proposal, you’re wasting time with the equivalent of, “It doesn’t matter to me. What do you wanna do?”
Instead you can take the risk to say, “Let’s go for Thai.”
They maybe looking for Ethiopian that day, but at least you made a bid. And who knows? Maybe they hadn’t considered how delicious a Panang curry might taste.
And think about what your brain does when someone says, “Oh, I’m fine with whatever.”
You’re immediately annoyed at the cognitive load you have to take on.
So, when you go into an audition, answer a question. Have an opinion. And prepare the hell out of demonstrating how you’d solve the problem.
Michael Kostroff says, “Always take care of them. Never ask them to take care of you.”
That sums it up.
Make your offer clear. If you’re confused, they will be, too, and as a smart marketing person said a long time ago (and like it or not, if you’re auditioning, you’re marketing) “a confused mind always says no.”