Audition advice from an out-of-work actress

With bowed heads and uncertain steps, a horde approached the door. Hesitating, I joined the hopeful procession towards the entrance to the Theater Studies building. Unfortunately, from whatever gross mistake or major typo happened this time, the result was the same as always—my name was not on this list.

Just as everyone begins unpacking in September, the contents of bulletin boards around campus start to change: signs sprout all over, announcing auditions for Dramat shows, improv troupes, dance groups, and all sorts of independent productions. I dreamt of being a ballerina even though I'd only taken a few beginners' classes, and like so many others attracted by Yale's theater reputation, I began plotting ways to show the comedy troupes my quick wit, and I even believed a part in the Dramat's Marat/Sade, a play about singing French mental patients, was in the bag. I dedicated my first semester to the old college try and went all out to prove just how much talent I had to spare. To put it gently, it didn't go quite as planned.

The Dramat, Yale's oldest and richest dramatic association, holds its auditions very early in the year. Since they sneak up on you right away, knowing this fall's schedule might help: On Mon., Sept. 4, and Tues., Sept. 5, auditions will be held for this year's two experimental productions, Arthur Miller's The Crucible and Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew.

At my first audition for The Dramat, I entered the world of cold readings in a short-sleeved shirt. A sideboard bore the lines of the leading roles from which we were to choose one monologue. I chose a righteous priest making a righteous speech and tried really hard to get into the character in just 15 minutes. Unfortunately, I ended up delivering my monologue on top of a couch. My seeming passion only made me wildly bounce up and down on the cushions, so that I ended up looking like a furious trampoline acrobat. Guess what? No name.

"Five, six, seven, eight..." The music crept towards the chorus, "Another one bites the dust." From the back row, I intently watched the mirror, struggling to remember the steps and to mimic the guy in front of me. With such a song and many sharp moves, this dance demanded a threatening look. I sneered at the mirror, trying to scare myself and look cool, but that goal was unattainable while I was dressed up in a maroon leotard, green tights, and bright red running sneakers, a get-up that even Freddie Mercury would have avoided. When the dancers announced the improvisational portion of the try-out, I decided to leave, having only this one routine I performed when no one was around. It's called "Shake Well" and involves me shaking a carton of orange juice with great passion. I didn't think they'd like the pulp.

Unsatisfied with improvisational dancing, I decided to try out for improvisational comedy. I had never done improv before but figured I might as well follow a whim.

The audition actually went reasonably well for once, or at least I had fun with it. Still, I guess I may have overdone it by playing the same spandex-attached character every time...no name.

When my name didn't appear on any list, I asked myself, "why did they even bother letting me in here if they're not going to let me do anything I came here to do?" That was the question that plagued me for so long I despaired of ever finding the answer. I had come to college ready to start my career as the one bright star that the world was waiting for, and found that there were already quite a lot of supernovas in the sky.

I walked back from the improv tryout with another aspiring comedian, someone who had made the whole room roar with laughter. He described his tactics for auditioning for improv troupes, noting one group as his first choice, and another as his "safety group." Safety group. That phrase stuck with me. He was treating the try-outs like college applications. Of course, I then realized I had not been acting any differently. To me, these auditions were not like any round of applications I had had before.

So, after winter break, I decided to seize some roles myself off the stage. Now I was able to play characters I never thought I could. Through such samplings as participating in campaigns for losing candidates, finally playing a position that was not on the bench in intramurals, and writing theater reviews (hey, I had to get my aggression out somehow), I tried out activities that I had never before imagined myself doing.

Many freshmen, with theater experience ranging from professional credits to solely singing in the shower, have had amazing opportunities to perform with professional directors in mainstage productions, and in other, more daring productions, not to mention in odd plays about French mental patients. Even I, who had thought I would never get my hands on a role during any lifetime soon, landed a part when I least expected to.

But the names not on the cast list, or any other list for that matter, are not condemned to oblivion. There are so many parts to play, both on and off the stage.

Whether you are going for music, comedy, film, dance, or drama, remember that you already belong here—and not to just play one part as an actor or dancer or singer, but to try out roles you never thought you would or could ever play. (Like the EMT club—now there's drama!) The success of the old college try lies not in cementing the identity you envisioned, but in remaking yourself as all the other people that you can become.

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