Second-Year IP’s: Auditions and More

Last week, I signed up for consideration by the second-year theatre students as they cast their directorial projects.

And, I’m abundantly glad that I did so.

The IP’s were auditioned in two groups, in two sessions spanning two days. My audition took place on the second of the two. Here, I should probably digress and acknowledge that it wasn’t an “audition” in the traditional sense of the word. In my experience, an audition has always been conducted in a one-on-one, partnered, or small-group setting with a markedly “intimate” tenor. But, my theatrical experience is limited to one specific region and influence, and therefore I was excited to observe and partake in a contrasting interpretation of the process: one with a highly social atmosphere focused on flamboyance and a strong group dynamic. But—more on that to come.

It’s obvious to me that every second-year director is entirely committed to the realization of an artistic vision—they’re serious yet enthusiastic about their casting processes, and I can only imagine that they, feeling the pressures of a deadline, a grade, and most of all, the artistic potential of their projects, will treat their rehearsals and ultimate productions with directorial mastery.

The group audition that I attended on Tuesday evening, September 14th, was, too, conducted and executed by the second-year directors. It began onstage with a few group-oriented games aimed at lowering the inhibitions of the potential casts. Circular and interactive, the games appeared to help many feel more comfortable onstage, nearly blinded to their second-year counterparts avidly purveying from the seats.

Next, we broke into smaller groups of five or six—for the Family Portrait Game. The exercise consists of the assembly of a named group onstage, where they are presented with an interesting scenario to be portrayed. At a moment’s notice, the leader and external conductor of the exercise calls “Freeze!” and the scene and stakes are altered. The exercise itself tests the creative spontaneity of its participants, and is generally lighthearted and comical. I was slightly disappointed by my specific scene however; my group was assigned to a “waterpark,” and the scene was altered to involve a shark attack. I didn’t feel like this presented very many opportunities for originality or variance of character, and instead fostered a group “scream-and-stomp-about-the-stage” dynamic. This was perhaps due, in part, to the fact that, by the time my group assumed the stage, the exercise was no longer being led by a single person, and was instead dictated by the first person to shout any scene from the audience.

After this, we partook in the "Hello, hello" exercise. This time my partner and I were in a restaurant; I was late, she was disgruntled by it. Disdain and confusion ensued.

Next we again broke into groups of five or six, and formed, group by group, lines in the upstage-left corner of the performance space. Each group was then given an emotion to portray, and, one by one, each group-member walked across the stage physically embodying the emotion.

At this point, the least inhibited, loudest, most talented character-actors had been recognized. This was also the point at which the entire group of auditionees was instructed to take a seat, and subsequently watch and listen as each director took turns calling people or groups to the stage to “improvise” various scenes.

The night ended in a slightly chaotic call-back, in which people unconfident in their earlier performances left, slightly dejected, perhaps, and convinced they’d not be cast in a leading or speaking role. The remaining participants went into separate areas to continue to read and improvise for specific directors, this time in a much more private setting.

I was approached by Nima to read for his project, did this, and left.

The next day, I was approached by Emma, and was cast in her project, the prospect of which was very exciting. That evening I read through the script with Emma, and the other two cast-members: Alice and Elisabeth. Her project, titled, “Small Crimes,” is based on the poetry of Tania Cassin. It is avant-garde, and should prove to be challenging, but highly effective in its depiction of the trivialities of love and the human condition. The piece will culminate in a song by Damien Rice, entitled “9 Crimes”.

It’s also likely that I will be performing in Kelly’s project, but I’ve not yet seen her schedule or read her script.

In our most recent class-session, we discussed and analyzed the audition process that many of us had experienced. Several people expressed sentiments similar to my own, feeling as if it was less an opportunity to display talent and abilities, and more one to seek attention for loud, comical improvisation.

I was particularly bothered by the “embody an emotion” exercise; I felt as if it severely neglected one of the primary rules of acting, one which we readdressed in class:

            ACTING 101: Play the action, not the emotion

When playing a character, an actor should never think, “Well—it appears that my characters is sad. At this point, how can I embody sadness?” In embodying a character, a primary element is the elimination of the divide between actor and character—and bringing a reality to the stage. True human emotion is NEVER as simple as sadness or happiness. I doubt amoebic emotion is that simple. An actor must consider the innumerable factors catalyzing an emotional palette or a behavior in a specific case—fear, trepidation, disconsolation, arrogance, infatuation, and perhaps vulnerability—not just… sadness. This exercise is useful in contexts of hyperbolic emotion: clowning, mime, and modern melodrama... but by no means is it useful in assessing the dramatic range and ability of an actor of realistic drama.

Ultimately, we established Six Pillars to be remembered next year, when we’re executing our own IP’s:

1.              Eliminate competition in ensemble – establish a clear objective

2.              Allow for time to process emotional depth

On this specific note, many people recalled the perhaps unrealistic challenge of being asked to take the stage, and, in an instant, channel the emotions of a murderer or sufferer of some grave illness. The consensus was: it’s not possible to embody characters experiencing these highly unique and emotionally complex circumstances, given only a moment of preparation.

3.              Have and distribute texts beforehand

4.              Have a clear understanding of theatrical technique, and an understanding of     the uses and implications of improv as an art

5.              Privacy

6.              Be specific and avoid generalizations in direction.

I hope that I’ll be mindful of these and more potential fallacies in execution to which any director could fall victim. It’s important to remember that everyone involved in IP production is a student—we’re all learning. On the whole, the process itself was still a fairly positive one—perhaps not for the mechanics of its execution, but for the passion and energy with which it was executed.


I look forward to the coming weeks—they should prove to be rigorous, but will, hopefully, produce incredible results.