I find it hard to believe anyone is ever really good at auditions. You have good days and bad days. When your fate is being decided by as few as two or three scenes, how do you play from a place of joy and fearlessness?
As I helped Under the Gun Theater run their auditions yesterday, I noticed many, many people making the exact same mistakes. Take heed, future auditioners.
1. They didn’t care about anything.
Words like “divorce” and “cancer” got thrown around a lot in those auditions, but I never saw them take on any weight. You have to react to the information in the scene. If you don’t react to someone wanting a divorce, how will the theater expect you to react to more subtle initiations?
In the best auditions, people found a way to react to even the most mundane information. In one scene, a girl and her father were talking about her troubles with math. The dad established he was a mathematician. His daughter said she was struggling with triangles. The dad acted thrown. “Triangles, huh?” he said, “That’s pretty advanced stuff.” By having a big reaction to something stupid, the dad put extra weight on the issue, and people laughed.
Please find a way to care or react in your scenes. It helps if you care or react to your scene partner, if possible. (Important: “Caring” doesn’t necessarily mean “liking.”)
2. They had a fundamental misunderstanding of what it means to agree.
When you start improv, many teachers lean on the old crutch of “yes and.” The longer I perform, the more I believe “yes and” is a gross oversimplification of the process. Taken literally, this can cripple upcoming improvisers.
Let’s say a scene starts with someone saying they want to kill you. “Okay,” you say, trying to be helpful. Where does this scene go now? Your scene partner kills you while you lie there? Is that funny? Or is it just bizarre?
When a scene begins, it’s to your benefit to agree to be in the same time and space as your partner. As facts present themselves, you should agree to those as well. You are under no obligation to agree with opinions or behavior, except to agree that what is said and done actually happened.
So often, I watched performers stop what they were doing and abandon character because another performer asked them to complete a task. One woman began a silent scene as if she was swordfighting her scene partner. The scene partner responded with her own sword. So we all watched a completely silent scene where they fenced for 60 seconds. In hindsight, was this really the best use of that time? Sure, they “agreed” to duel, but that was the entire scene. Snooze city.
3. They forced things.
Kevin Mullaney, one of Under the Gun’s founders, helped create the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre curriculum that focuses on “The Game.” The start of every Game scene should be easy. Just react normally. I’ll repeat that because it’s important. Just react normally. When you notice something unusual happen, simply highlight, explore and reinforce that. That’s the game.
Too often, because we’re scared of time running out in an audition, we front-load the weirdness. We say something completely insane in the first or second line, and that sends the scene to hell in a hurry.
Be sure not to overburden the scene with a massive info dump in the early lines. Great improvisers make discoveries while they play. That’s a far more useful skill than throwing down a great initiation and doing nothing with it.
In those first few lines, just establish who you are and what your relationship is with your scene partner. Once we know that, look for the Game, give gifts to the other actor and explore this world you just built.
Think of the first scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark. We see a shadowy figure walking through the jungle. There are lots of little signs of danger – a poison dart, a creepy stone carving and bats. The man’s helpers run away. One helper tries to shoot him. Our hero uses his whip to disarm the would-be assassin. Three minutes elapse before we even see Indiana Jones’ face. More than nine minutes go by before the big rock chases him down.
Now imagine if the movie opened with a shot of Harrison Ford running away from a big rock. You’d probably be seriously confused. Where are we? Who’s that guy? Why is he running? Where did the boulder come from? The scene earns that goofy moment because it built to it with many increasingly incredible hazards.
Granted, you don’t have nine minutes to impress an auditor. But you do have enough time to establish and explore a pattern. When you get the suggestion of “jungle” for a location, I hope you and your scene partner discover a great boobytrapped pyramid to explore. Just remember, boobytraps are cool, but we care more about your relationship and your reactions to discoveries.
4. They didn’t have a headshot.
For most improv auditions, you don’t need a professional headshot. Hell, even a selfie can do in a pinch. But you should always have an 8×10 photo of your mug lying around. Several people said the local drug store had trouble printing them. Find a decent picture of yourself, print it out today and stick it where you’ll remember it. When that audition comes up out of the blue, you’ll be ready to go. When you use that one, print another immediately.
The auditors at yesterday’s audition said they occasionally had someone who had an amazing audition, but without a headshot, they couldn’t remember what the performer looked like. When you’re casting, you like to spread out those headshots and assemble them visually. Even if you were God’s gift to improv, they are more likely to select someone whose picture is lying in front of them.
Print a headshot. Print a resume. Staple them together so they can see your resume by flipping your picture over.
5. They talked about what they were doing.
If your improv scene begins at a grocery store, we don’t want you to spend the scene collecting each item on your shopping list. If you’re at a bowling alley, we don’t just want to watch you bowl. If you’re in a kitchen, we don’t want to hear you talking about making your yummy meatloaf.
We want you to bounce off the other actor.
When you’re in the supermarket, talk to your daughter about her grades. When you’re in the bowling alley, talk about your reaction to something in the news. When you’re in the kitchen, forgive your brother for getting hammered and setting your lawn on fire.
The environment can give you opportunities to do object work or add punctuation to a conversation. But if the conversation is about the environment or the activity, your scene is almost guaranteed to suck.
6. They didn’t listen.
Many times, improvisers missed great opportunities because they were so wrapped up in their own ideas. If you’re not listening in an audition, the theater won’t expect you to listen when performing for them.
For the record, I suck at auditions and I need to remind myself of many of these lessons when I play. When you see scene after scene with the same flaws, they start to grow increasingly disheartening.
Kevin’s partner in running the auditions (and the theater) was Angie McMahon. She posted this on Facebook:
1. Fellas (and a few ladies but mostly fellas) don’t call women bitches or the C word in scenes. You only have about 3 minutes total with me. Just make a new choice.
2. Don’t pick each other up or snuggle your head into a person’s bosom (especially if you don’t know them).
3. You are not more memorable if you make the “wacky” choice of being a space alien… or smoke monster. Everyone is nervous and you are making it hard for everyone.
4. Although I appreciate trying to do social and political satire, you are walking in the room with folks of varying levels. I would save your smart “political” initiation for later when you are surrounded by folks you know have the skill to do an honest and lovely thoughtful scene about a sensitive subject.
5. We are not judging you, I want you to succeed. I want you to have fun. Nothing makes me happier then smiling because I am watching someone who is also having fun… I know that is hard.
The most important piece of advice I can give to any auditioner is never to give up. When you get smacked down, lick your wounds, take classes and accumulate stage time wherever you can. Come back and audition again. Show them how much you’ve grown. There are multiple paths to success. Giving up is a sure shortcut to the end of the road.
Got an improv question? E-mail me at boilingpointimprov[at]gmail.com