Some of you who follow this blog know that I was in theatre for a while. Sometimes it was in school (middle school, high school, and college), a few times it was community theatre, and on a couple of occasions, a professional company (one of these was a professional company that I didn't get paid to perform in, as the production was cast with kids in their dance school, and the other I would have gotten paid a small amount had I accepted the role).
The trouble I always had with theatre was casting. Once I got into a show, I always had people tell me what a great actress I was, how much they enjoyed my performance... But the problem was getting in.
I hate auditions. Always have. Auditions are a very large reason why I'm not in theatre anymore. In theory, at an audition, if you're good enough, you get the part. But in practice, there's a lot more to it than that:
-What's their first 5-second impression of you?
-Do you look like what they want for the part?
-Are you ungodly shorter than everyone else in the cast?
-Do you look like someone else they want to cast? (This can be a plus or minus depending on the show.)
-Are you related to someone else who is also auditioning?
-Are you just a wee bit chubby?
-Can you pass as a teenager? (Again, can be a plus or a minus - more on that later.)
-Are you one of 3,000 women auditioning for a play with 3 female parts? Are you a guy? Are there more male parts than men auditioning? If you are a girl and there are more male parts than guys auditioning, can you either pass as a guy, or know a guy you can bribe to be in the show?
-Are you sleeping with someone involved in the show (yes, sadly, that happens)?
-Can you dance?
Examining some of these (and of course these are only the tip of the iceberg of reasons you might not get cast) shows some of the challenges I've run up against (though a couple times things that could have been challenges worked out).
Do you look like someone else?
There was a time when I was in college that I wanted to be in a show that featured three sisters. I was a senior theatre major and there were two junior girls who had a similar build and coloring to me. One of them looked so much like me that when my dad saw a picture of her in a show that she had been in (that I had not been in), he was was annoyed that I didn't tell him I had been in the show. There were a bunch of people who were convinced that we were going to be cast as the three sisters. But the day the cast list went up, the two juniors and a sophomore who didn't look as much like them as I did got the parts. Many people were surprised - including the two juniors. Having not been cast at all, I was devastated. A couple friends, I think trying to comfort me, speculated that maybe I looked so much like the one actress above that the director was concerned the audience would get us confused.
Are you related to someone?
A few times when I was a kid, I think this worked out in my sister’s and my favor - two kids with one parent bringing them means one less person you have to rely on to get their kids there on time. My sister and I were in the Nutcracker together the last year I performed, and we were Wendy and Mrs. Darling, respectively, in a community theatre production of Peter Pan. Of course, the fact that at 18 I was the oldest actor in the children's production probably had more to do with my playing Wendy's mother than the fact that Wendy and I had a family resemblance. Of course there was also the fact that at 18 I had the body of a 40 year old woman who had let herself go somewhat... (no, seriously, I weigh 15 pounds less today than I did when I graduated from high school).
Can you pass as a teenager?
As someone who got carded into her 30's, this was something that I would have thought I had going for me, auditioning for young roles in adult shows. Sometimes it did - I played a 15-year-old school girl at the age of 23. But, as previously mentioned, I might have looked like a teenager, but I did not look like a SKINNY teenager. As in, not Sandy in Grease. And not many other young ingenues, either. To paraphrase Terry Pratchett, people will believe a fat 40 year old is a consumptive 18 year old, but they won't believe a fat 18 year old is a consumptive 18 year old (he was talking about opera, but it's true of straight theatre, too).
There were also times that being able to pass as a teenager was something of a detriment. When I was 24 or 25 I went to an audition for a musical using 50's/60's pop music. The four actresses in the show were supposed to be young bobby-socksers. Being in my mid 20's but looking more like 18 - and also being well-versed in the music and dance of the time - I thought I had it in. But all the other women at the audition were in their 30's or 40's. Like Terry said above, the audience will buy 40 year olds playing teenagers - provided they're not asked to believe that said 40 year olds are the same age as the girl who really does look 18.
Can you dance?
Oh, dear. This is a blessing and a curse. If you're auditioning for a musical with a major professional company, you damn well better be able to dance. But if you're auditioning for a community theatre where 90% of the people who show up can describe their dance experience as "I once did the Hokey Pokey without falling over," you will get stuck as the choreographer or the one-scene wonder.
My sister was once in a community theatre production of A Midsummer Night's Dream (aka, that Shakespeare play with the fairies). When the director found out that Katrina was at a near-professional level of ballet skill, boom, she was suddenly a blue-haired one-scene wonder fairy that did a pointe scene to cover time for a scene or costume change.
Sometimes, you get stuck as the one-scene wonder AND the choreographer. When I was about 25 (again, late teens-looking) I auditioned for a production of Grease in rural Tennessee. The casting call requested that we prepare a song as well as a short dance number. I showed up prepared to dance to Elvis's "Hound Dog" with a piece I had choreographed that included two swing steps, salsa, basic tap, and ballet. I really wanted to be Rizzo. I was offered to be the choreographer, and also Cha-Cha DiGregorio - "the best dancer with the worst reputation" - a character who exists for the sole purpose of being able to have a dance-off with Sandy in one scene.
Admittedly, there was a show I was in once where I was the choreographer, but also a had a decent amount of stage time as 2 other characters, but that seems to be the rare exception.
That's why I prefer writing - doesn't matter what you look like or if you can dance.