Perhaps you imagine auditions taking place in a half-darkened theatre. You walk up on stage and face an auditorium empty but for a director, assistant director, and a large pile of audition forms. “Hello,” you say pathetically. Your weak voice echoes through the cavernous space. “I’m Joe Kloehn, and I will be performing Phil’s monologue from Howard Korder’s Boy’s Life.”

The audition forms rustle in response.

“Can I use this chair?”

The assistant director nods.

You screech a small wobbly wooden chair across the stage, sit down, and begin. Your monologue sounds thick and forced. The empty space spits your words back at you, mocking you with every syllable. You get louder, with the hope that increased volume will somehow translate into honesty, but instead it simply strains your voice and throws you off your rhythm. The words have lost their meaning, and it takes all your effort simply to deliver them in the correct order. Your hands gesture uselessly. At the monologue’s climax, you make your voice crack, with the hope that this will convey some sort of emotion. Then you take a dramatic pause before muttering the final lines.

 The theatre is silent. A single drop of sweat rolls down your forehead.

“Thank you for coming in,” says the director.

“Do you need to see my second monologue?”

“It won’t be necessary,” says the assistant director.

You leave.

 If this is what you imagine, there are two things I must tell you.

First: Don’t tell the director “I’m Joe Kloehn.” That’s my name, not yours. Why would you say that? It doesn’t make any sense. Don’t be a weirdo.

Second: Auditions are actually a good deal worse than that.

At this point, I have been to seven professional auditions. Less than half have taken place in theatres. The others have taken place in locations that are less than ideal for a two-minute performance that must showcase all of your acting abilities. For instance: The first audition I attended, the train was late and I ended up speed-walking six blocks in ninety degree heat. I rushed to the address I had typed into my phone, filled out an audition form in a stairwell, and did not realize that the audition took place in an old high school gymnasium until I walked through its double doors. I then spent the entirety of my monologue focused not on Phil’s unrequited love, but on how many regional IHSA basketball championships the Catholic Knights won in the 1990s. The director, sitting in a folding chair at the half-court line, did not seem impressed.

My second audition was in the decaying basement of an old arts building. It was a general audition, so I was auditioning for every production that this theatre company was putting on in their upcoming season, as well as for every show in an impending one-act festival. After waiting for forty-five minutes, I walked into a narrow little room that was absolutely filled with people. Every production and one-act had at least two representatives present, and they lined themselves up along the room lengthwise. The room was so narrow and they were so plentiful that I could not angle my body without facing my back to some of them. I did a lot of pacing just so they could all see my face before my two minutes were up.

My most recent audition took place in a dance studio. This would be a lovely place to audition, if not for the giant floor-to-ceiling mirror facing me the entire time. If you think watching recordings of your performances is painful, try watching yourself audition in real time. I don’t know what my performance was like, but that asshole in the mirror looked awkward as hell.

A good audition should transport the director into the world of the monologue. If you can accomplish this feat, even for just an instant, it should be enough to get a callback. However, the trick to these auditions is that you never know what space you’ll be transforming.

Well, one of the tricks.

You also will have no idea how long an audition might take. If a company has a tight audition schedule and a long wait list, expect no more than two and a half minutes. This can feel particularly disheartening, especially if you are like me and arrive everywhere an hour early. However, if you happen to be performing before a gap in the audition schedule, the director will keep you there as long as he or she wants. You will go through both of your prepared monologues, and then they might start handing you sides that you have to cold-read. They might start critiquing you, testing to see if you can take direction. This can be reassuring because it means the director is actually considering you, but mostly it’s just ridiculously nerve-wracking.

“Be ready for anything” is not reassuring advice. However, it is the only advice I can give as of now. I don’t know if auditioning will get any easier, but I sort of doubt it. I also doubt that this will be my last post on auditions.

On the bright side, you now know how to get headshots, find auditions, and go to auditions. That’s everything you need to know to get cast! It’s just a matter of time now, right?

right?

guys?