How hard can casting be?
This one is for Lesley, who asked me to write a little more about auditions. Lesley, I hope this is along the right lines. It’s turned into a bumper edition - grab a cuppa and get comfy!
I have come to an important realisation. I think I am more stressed running an audition than I am actually doing an audition.
That might sound like a ridiculous statement, but … for me, running auditions is a whole new level of anxiety. Will we get good talent in the room? Will they like us? Will they want to work with us? Have we forgotten something? And, most importantly, what if nobody comes?
My solution to all of this, apparently, is to over-compensate to a frankly unnecessary degree. For example, during the afternoon session of our RENT auditions, I realised I had hugged an excessive number of people who I had never met and who had absolutely no idea who I was as they arrived at the audition. On reflection, this was probably quite a risky strategy. Invading someone's personal space within the first five seconds of meeting them isn't necessarily the strongest casting technique.
Fortunately, they stuck with us.
By the end of an audition day, I am usually completely wiped out. Not because I've been performing in the hope I will be cast. But because I've spent several hours being the overly enthusiastic host, welcoming people I've never met, making conversation, trying to make everyone feel comfortable and quietly having a minor existential crisis about whether everyone is actually having a good time. Turns out, that's exhausting too.
And that's probably the thing I hadn't really appreciated before we started producing our own work: an audition might only last a few minutes for the performer, but the casting process can involve tens of hours of work behind the scenes. Sometimes, across a whole production, I suspect we're getting into the hundreds.
There are adverts to write, applications to manage, self-tapes to watch, emails to send (still a sore topic after a recent “crisis” … read on for the full story!), people to shortlist, schedules to organise, rooms to book, audition material to prepare, recalls to arrange, and availability to check, and then — eventually — the small matter of actually deciding who gets the parts.
So, Lesley, here is what we've learned so far. Not the way to run an audition. Just our way, and what we've found along the way.
Do you even need an audition?
When we started RENT, we already knew a lot of talented people. Adam and I had, naturally, had countless conversations along the lines of, “Who would be a great Mark?” or “I wonder if so-and-so would be good for this?” Because of course we had. We'd worked with people recently, we'd seen people perform and we had a pretty good idea of who might be suitable for different roles. We could probably have put together a very good cast from people we already knew.
But we also really wanted to open the door beyond the people we already knew. We wanted anyone who wanted to be part of RENT to have the opportunity to put themselves forward. And we wanted people who loved the show and wanted to be part of the show, because of the show.
And, rather wonderfully, a lot of our RENT cast were people we'd never worked with before. They turned up, blew us away and introduced us to a whole load of talent we simply hadn't had the opportunity to see before. They brought the talent, enthusiasm and passion we were hoping to find, and every single person ended up being the right casting decision for us.
It wasn't necessarily the easiest option, though. When you're casting people you don't know, you're taking a bit of a leap. You haven't built that trust yet, you don't know how they work in a rehearsal room or quite how they'll approach the commitment involved in doing a show. And that means more work on our part too — building those relationships and creating that trust from scratch.
But it was absolutely worth it. Opening the process meant we discovered even more brilliant people than we knew existed — people we've now had the chance to know, work with and, in many cases, call friends. And that's a pretty good reason to open the door.
Do people we already know still audition?
Absolutely. If someone we know wants to audition, they audition. Not because we don't know what they're capable of, but because we want to be fair.
It's also interesting because, when you're casting people you know, you can't completely erase your previous experience of them. You remember the person who was incredibly committed. You remember the person who was wonderful to work with. You also remember the person who was ... less wonderful to work with (yes, risky comment but we’d all be lying if we said everyone is a complete breeze to work with!)
But we genuinely try to put talent and suitability for the particular role first. RENT was a very good test of that. If we'd simply cast friends and people we'd worked with previously, the cast would have been very different.
And then there are the emails...
Once you've decided you're going to audition, the fun really begins. Because before anyone actually auditions, there is a frankly staggering amount of communication.
Audition information. Role information. Confirmation emails. Audition times. Questions. Changes. Reminders. “What should I prepare?” “Where is the audition?” “Can I audition for this role instead?” “I've just realised I'm on holiday that week…” It is a lot of emails.
Then I discovered Power Automate. Honestly, I thought I'd found the holy grail. Being able to send emails in bulk while still pulling in individual information from a spreadsheet? Dreamy.
Name? Automatically inserted. Role they're auditioning for? Automatically inserted. Their individual audition time? Automatically inserted. One email to a huge number of people, but personalised enough that it didn't look like I'd just pressed SEND ALL and hoped for the best. It saved hours.
I've used it several times since, with great success. And then I used it for Austen Brontë. Power Automate decided to have a not-so-little moment. It got itself stuck in a loop and started sending the same email to the same people. And wouldn't stop. For over an hour. Thousands of emails were leaving my inbox and I could not make them stop.
I was frantically breaking every connection to Power Automate I could possibly find, while simultaneously deleting emails appearing in my drafts as quickly as I could, desperately trying to stop them being sent to increasingly confused auditionees.
And then the replies started coming in. “Is this an error?” “Did you know I've received this several times?” Which, to be fair, if I hadn't known what was happening, I would have been incredibly grateful for someone letting me know. Unfortunately, I was very, very aware.
It was carnage. At one point, I think I had essentially declared war on Microsoft. Fortunately, most people saw the funny side. Some were apparently quite flattered to have been asked to audition for the show over 30 times.
So, despite having previously considered Power Automate a complete and utter godsend, I have now made the executive decision that I will never use Power Automate ever again. Until, obviously, I forget about this incident and need to send 150 personalised emails. Then I'll probably be back on it.
Because that's the thing about casting. It's not just the audition. It's all the stuff around it. And quite a lot of that stuff involves spreadsheets.
Self-tape or in person?
We've used both. Self-tapes have obvious advantages. They're practical, flexible and allow us to see people who might not be able to get to us for a first-stage audition. We've used them for RENT, we're using them for Austen Brontë - The Musical and we may use them for the first stage of Jesus Christ Superstar. They're particularly useful for professional casting, where we're potentially looking at people from much further afield.
And they solve one of my biggest audition-day anxieties: people not turning up. I genuinely don't understand this one. If you register for an audition and then realise you can't come, just tell us. Please. Because running an audition day is expensive and time-consuming. We've got a room. We've got a creative team. We've probably bought snacks. I have definitely made a spreadsheet. And then people just don’t show. It’s frustrating.
Self-tapes obviously aren't without their own challenges, though.
I've done them myself and have lost hours singing the same thing repeatedly, choosing between different takes and wondering whether the one where I sang it perfectly but looked like I was being held hostage is preferable to the one where I looked great but forgot the second verse.
We've also learned that there's something quite different about auditioning for a stage show on camera and actually being in the room. A self-tape can tell you a lot, but ultimately we're casting stage performers. We want to see how someone fills a room, how they connect with people, how they respond to the energy around them and what happens when they're actually performing in front of you. And for a lot of people, that energy really comes alive in the room. We had people who were good on video but were so much stronger once they were in front of us — suddenly there was a presence and an energy that you simply can't always capture on a screen.
And there are other things you have to make allowances for with a self-tape too. Sound quality can vary hugely depending on someone's phone, camera, microphone and recording set-up. Some people have professional equipment and lovely compressor mics; others are recording on whatever they've got to hand. You can't let the quality of the recording influence your judgement of the performer.
And then there's chemistry. You can't really judge chemistry between two people from two separate self-tapes. That's particularly important when you're casting relationships. Two people can be individually fantastic and still have about as much chemistry as Rick’s choice of colour combinations in a spreadsheet (…none)
So what happens when we shortlist?
Once we've got through the first round, we're generally looking for a combination of things. Can they sing? Can they act? Can they communicate the story? Do they connect with the material? And, perhaps most importantly for us, do we feel something? It doesn't have to be dramatic. It might be funny, moving, surprising or simply make us want to watch them for another five minutes.
We're also conscious of variety. We don't necessarily want three people who all bring exactly the same thing to a role. And then comes the slightly more difficult question: Can we actually see this person in this role? Because someone can be a brilliant performer and still not be right for a particular part.
How many people do we recall?
We've settled into roughly three people per principal role as a useful number. That's not a rule, and it's certainly not something we stick to rigidly. It's simply what has worked for us so far. A big part of that decision is thinking about what we're asking of the person auditioning. An audition takes preparation, time and energy. There's the learning, the nerves, the pressure of walking into a room and putting yourself out there, and then the inevitable overthinking afterwards. It's a lot to ask of someone.
So, for us, it is not far to bring someone back for a recall if we don't genuinely think they have a strong chance of getting the role. We'd rather be respectful of the work they've already put in than ask them to go through another round just because we can.
And then you have to work out what you're actually going to do with everyone.
What do we actually do in the room?
For ensemble, we've generally gone for a workshop approach. We've never done video auditions for ensemble because, for us, ensemble is about seeing people act, sing and move as a group. Not everyone wants a principal role either. Some people simply want to be part of a great ensemble, and we wanted to give them a chance to show us what they could do without asking them to film themselves singing alone in their bedroom (well, the bathroom seems a more popular choice for many…)
Our audition days have therefore tended to involve movement, acting, group singing and then more specific recalls for principal roles.
We're not just interested in what someone brings into the room initially. We're interested in what happens when we start working with them. Do they listen? Can they adapt? Can they try something different? Does another direction unlock something completely different? Because creating theatre isn't about getting everything “right” on the first go. It's about exploration, discovery and trying new things to bring the story to life in a way that resonates. And, frankly, what's the point in rehearsing if you're perfect to start with?
And then professional casting comes along...
This is where things get interesting. The fundamentals are actually remarkably similar. We're still looking for talent, suitability, chemistry and whether we can see someone working in the production.
The big difference is where the pool of performers comes from. For professional work, we've used Spotlight (once we'd got past the Spotlight gatekeepers!), agents and direct approaches to performers. And there is considerably more to establish before you even get anywhere near the audition room: availability, fees, location, travel, contractual arrangements and, importantly, whether someone can actually commit to the whole project.
We've had people express an interest in professional projects, only for us to discover they're based in London when the production requires someone within daily commuting distance of Yorkshire. Cue the email explaining the location requirements again. And again. And again.
Austen Brontë has added another layer because we're working with the same cast across two separate periods several months apart. So we're not just asking, “Can you do the show?” We're asking, “Can you commit to this whole arrangement?”
It's another reminder that casting isn't simply about finding the most talented person who walks through the door. It's about finding the right person for this particular production, with these particular people, within these particular constraints. Which, naturally, makes the spreadsheet even more complicated. Maybe that’s what broke Power Automate?!
Is the talent different?
This was something I was genuinely curious about when we started casting professionally. So far, our experience is: not really. There might be a larger pool of strong applicants for a paid production, but the strongest performer we've seen for a paid show isn't necessarily any stronger than the strongest performer we've seen in non-professional theatre.
And non-professional theatre is full of people who could absolutely work professionally but have chosen other careers and do theatre because they love it. The biggest difference we've noticed isn't necessarily talent. It's the parameters around the talent.
A few things we appreciate as an audition panel
And because a blog like this really ought to contain at least a few top tips, here are a handful of things we've learned from sitting on the other side of the audition table. Not rules, not gospel — just the things we genuinely appreciate as an audition panel.
Be yourself. We want to see you, not the person you think we want you to be.
Give things a go. You don't have to be brilliant at everything. Everyone has different strengths, and sometimes the thing you're least confident about is the thing that surprises us.
Prepare. Know your material, know what you're auditioning for and ask questions if you're not sure about something. We'd much rather you ask than spend ten minutes worrying that you've misunderstood the brief.
Know the show. You don't need to be able to recite the entire script from memory, but having some idea what you're auditioning for is always helpful.
Don't panic if something goes wrong. Forget a word? Go again. Make a mistake? Keep going. Auditions are stressful and we're not expecting perfection.
And if you can't make it, tell us. Things happen. Holidays happen. Work happens. Life happens. We genuinely understand. A quick message is infinitely better than having a production team sitting in an empty room wondering whether we've somehow got the date wrong.
And finally, remember that we're rooting for you. We want to find brilliant people. Nobody sitting behind that audition table is secretly hoping everyone will be terrible so we can all go home early. Quite the opposite. When someone walks in and absolutely nails it, that's a very good day for us too.
And then we have to actually choose someone...
This is the bit that takes the longest. An audition might take five, ten or fifteen minutes. A workshop might take an hour and a half. But once everyone has gone home, the real overthinking begins. And this is where all those hours of work suddenly make sense.
We go back through what we've seen and consider the whole picture. Talent and technical ability. Suitability for the role. Chemistry. Presence. How someone responded to direction. Enthusiasm and commitment. Experience. And then all the practical stuff: holidays, work commitments, travel, fees, contracts and rehearsal schedules.
Sometimes it's also about combinations. Who works well together? Who brings something different to the group? What happens if we put these two people together? Who might be brilliant with a little direction?
There are spreadsheets. There are notes. There are WhatsApp conversations. There are probably too many opinions. And then there is me, lying awake at 11.47pm wondering whether we made the right decision about who’s playing the third tree from the left.
So no, it's not simply a case of picking the person who gave the “best” audition. It's about trying to work out which combination of people is going to create the production we're trying to make. Which, frankly, is why I find it so stressful.
Because by the time the final decision is made, we've potentially spent tens of hours — and across a whole casting process, potentially hundreds — getting to that point. All for the performer to experience a five-minute audition.
That's the slightly bizarre thing about being on this side of the table. You realise just how much work sits behind those few minutes. And then, after all that, you have to press send. Congratulations. We'd love to offer you the part. Or the other email. The one nobody wants to send.
We've learned a lot from running auditions so far. We've changed things. We've tried things that worked brilliantly and things that we'll probably never do again. And I'm sure we'll continue to change how we approach casting as we do more professional and non-professional work. Because, ultimately, we're still learning.
I'm just very glad that I get to learn it from this side of the table now. Although I might need a lie down afterwards. How hard can casting be? Apparently, very.
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed the cuppa.
Until next time.
Lucy 🦡🤍