High School Musical Audition: "Day Before" Advice

I got a call from a student today, a high-school sophomore, asking for a last-minute lesson before his callback audition tomorrow for his school's production of Sweeney Todd. He desperately wants the title role. Unfortunately, I couldn't take him, since I awakened with a cold this morning and decided not to teach at all today. But I told him I would send him an email with some good advice. I'm putting it here for the many others who are sure to find themselves wanting some advice on this order. Here follows what I wrote to him.

How bad do you want it?

It was as rhetorical question. I know how bad you want it.

Before I begin, let me say a couple of Real Life Things.

1. You're a strange creature known as a Sophomore. This is a category of auditioner that doesn't exist in my world. People out in the real world don't have to deal with seniority in the business of theater. Talent is talent, and usually when there's seniority, it is because of talent, not because of age. You, on the other hand, have this to deal with. Your teacher has his own ideas of Who's Right for the Role and What's Right for the School. You will have to ascend on two fronts to get this part: 1) be good , and 2) be good enough to beat out an upper classman.

2. You have to be so well-prepared that if you don't make it, there will never be a question in your mind about why you weren't cast in the role you wanted. This is something that does exist in my world. When I'm overlooked for a part, it's not because I wasn't prepared and on my game for the audition; it was because I did not fit the picture of what the director wanted in that role. I can't emphasize this enough — that you must feel so right for a role that your not getting it is not your doing. Otherwise you can go crazy in your head with feelings of jealousy, entitlement, impropriety, inferiority, resentment, and several other Ugly-Headed Beasts that ruin one's life for a period of time. You must feel fabulous after your audition and let the chips fall where they may. Having this attitude in your head will truly give you a better audition and, usually, a better shot at the part you want. Someone with confidence, grace, humility, a sense of humor and in full support of the director's eventual choice is the kind of actor every director wants to work with. That's why a person may often be cast instead of someone with "seniority."

Okay. Here's the stuff you have to do:

Today:
Laugh. Don't obsess. Work your audition piece alone, in front of others, to a mirror. Do it aloud, do it silently. Run your words without making a sound, set the muscle memory in your face/mouth/tongue/body. Don't wear out your voice! Ask for feedback from family/friends, but don't take anything personally, and don't do anything that feels wrong. Well-meaning kibitzers are often Bad News. Follow your gut.

Tonight:
Sleep. Deep sleep. Untroubled, snoring, drooling sleep. Clear all the mental switchboards. Drain the capacitors. Reset the page.

Tomorrow:
Reboot. Rethink your character's intentions: Who are you talking to? Why are you telling him/her this? What do you want from him/her? From someone not in the scene? From yourself? From the audience (yes, this is a legitimate intention)? What's in the way of your getting what you want? Speak these things one last time, or better yet, write them down. Take yourself as close as you can to your character's given circumstances and live there in your head. Believe you are there. Do this a few times before the audition.

Warm up. An hour before you go to the audition, work your warmup tape. START SMALL. Do not be too zealous. Easy does it. Ask any Olympic athlete about overwarming before the event. Save a little something for the doing of the deed. Hold back on your fullest delivery. Feel yourself as a racehorse at the gate, ready to run.

At the audition, be kind to everyone. It scares them. It gives you a psychological edge. It's how Harvard treats Yale — as if everyone just knows Harvard is better than Yale. It's not mean-spirited. It's very generous and big-hearted. The Better Man can always afford to give away a little power.

Before you take the stage, have a swallow of water. Use some lip balm. Remind your lungs and torso how to breathe by taking a deep breath and sighing it out all at once. Now, put "You" away. Let "You" run your legs for walking, and your mouth for saying "Thank you," and your eyes for blinking. The only person in your mind now is your character. "You" are now Him. See London, see your painful past, see your enemies. Let us see you see London. Let us see you see your painful past. Let us see you see your enemies. "You" cannot see these things. Only your character can see them. Before you know it, you'll be back in 2010 Oakland California, and "You" will be running the show again, and everyone will be trying to inhale after you've knocked the wind out them by being transported to the places and circumstances you saw for us.

Then go have some pizza and forget about it. You did a good job, and everyone knows it, including you.

Break both legs. I've got all my fingers crossed.