Actor Life, Theatre

Story Time: I Didn’t Mean ALL of Them!

She Kills Monsters boasts a ton of opportunities to show off creative fight choreography. Scene 5 in particular ends with a “high-energy montage of badassery” where the main characters “kick ass by killing a crap-load of different monsters in an assortment of different ways from badass to comedic.” The script suggests including all sorts of iconic fantasy creatures to make the scene into a D&D nerd’s wet dream.

I designed all my monsters using Wintercroft papercraft mask templates as my starting point, so I was modestly limited to what monsters I could reasonably create. Skeletons seemed like a pretty straightforward option– what fantasy adventure doesn’t involve re-animated skeletons at one point or another? I decided to use a skull template to create a couple of liches for this scene. For the uninitiated, a lich is made when a powerful magic-user performs a ritual to remove their soul and become and undead creature in order to gain more power. The “soul” (or what’s left of it, anyway) is then stored outside the body in a phylactery. This means the lich can’t be damaged by regular means: if you want to kill a lich, you’ll have to destroy its phylactery.

This felt like excellent fodder for some interesting fight choreo. There are so many fights in the show, I felt like it was important to get some new gimmicks now and then. I choreographed this segment of the montage so that each lich (4 total) had a staff with an orb on top. The party would be scattered by the difficult enemies, each rushing in and out for a sort of Scooby Doo-style chase sequence. Agnes, cornered and alone, would destroy the orb on her attacker’s staff in desperation, and realize that this is the secret to defeating the rest. One by one, she would help the party destroy the rest of the orbs. This offered an opportunity to show Agnes growing as a smarter, more resourceful D&D player. (“Plus one in being less of a dumbass!”)

When I choreographed this, I didn’t yet have a plan for these staffs topped with breakable orbs– I had vague thoughts of sugar glass, or maybe something clever done with balloons?

The solution I landed on was even simpler. We were already hand-making the staffs– I found that covering a tall wooden dowel in glue and stuffing it into the hole in the center of a pool noodle makes for a boffer weapon that you can hit someone really hard with before it hurts. (Few of my actors had prior stage combat experience, so I really wanted all the weapons to be nice and soft, just in case. Regular pool noodles make for fun practice weapons, too!) For the orbs, I purchased some clear plastic balls that came in two halves. I gave them a gentle dusting of spray paint so they looked sort of mystical/crystal-ball-like, and then just hot glued them onto the ends of the staffs. The result was something easily “breakable”– the actors could rip the orbs off the staffs or break them in half, and we could just put the halves back together and glue them back in their spots before the next show.

I tested the orbs myself and felt like they were perfect for our needs. It only took some light pressure to make the two halves pop apart. And, if we went a little overboard and broke a few, it would be fine! The set I bought came with plenty of extras.

I showed the staffs to the cast. I pointed out how easily they broke– just apply a light squeeze, or a gentle “stage stomp,” and then the liches would die dramatically, and we’d glue the whole thing back together for another night. We ran the choreo and everything went perfectly.

I also mentioned that it wasn’t a big deal if we broke some of them.

Over the next couple days of rehearsals, we ran the fight scene a number of times. The actor playing Agnes broke one or two of the orbs– no biggie, we had extras, and anyway her choreography was kind of physical compared to everyone else’s, so I had sort of expected a couple of the orbs to get smashed in the crossfire.

What followed from the start of tech week to the end can only be called an orb massacre. What started as Agnes breaking one or two quickly became all of the actors breaking every orb. It was such a slaughter that I was convinced they were doing it on purpose. I’d said they only needed LIGHT pressure, I never said to blast them all to pieces!

We began running out of plastic balls. At notes after dress rehearsal, I asked the cast, “can we try not to smash so many of the orbs during the lich fight?”, and you would have thought I asked them to try doing the scene while levitating 3 feet off the ground.

Someone said, “but I thought you said we had backups!”

I said, “HAD backups, yes!” But not enough backups to replace every orb every night for a week!

We managed to scrape through all the performances with JUST enough– we had to use some orb halves that were only slightly cracked, but not totally busted, for the final show.

Admittedly, this was totally my fault– I should have been more clear. I’m taking an indignant tone for the sake of humor, but I understand where the mix-up occurred. Directing teaches you a lot about the critical importance of specific communication!

I’ll never forget the actors looking at me like I had five heads when I asked them not to break the things I didn’t know I’d apparently invited them to break. Lesson learned: Next time I’ll tell the actors that we don’t have ANY replacements and that they need to be EXTREMELY careful, I guess! 🙂

Actor Life

10 Theatre Habits that make you Very Demure, Very Mindful

With my warmest applause for @joolieannie, whose viral TikTok video has earned her the money she needs for her transition!

1. You stay quiet while other actors are rehearsing

Being respectful of others while they are working is very cutesy, very demure. Making a bunch of noise at rehearsal is disrespectful of others’ time and energy, and plain old distracting. Treat others like you want to be treated!

      2. You learn your lines by (or even before) the off-book date

      When you’re the only one who isn’t prepared, it’s embarrassing for you, and it’s frustrating for everyone else. Not knowing your lines is a disaster waiting to happen! It also wastes time in rehearsal. Practicing your lines thoroughly ahead of time so you’re completely ready for the off-book date is very considerate.

      3. You communicate with your production staff

      If problems arise, you should immediately talk to your production staff so they can handle it. Being a clear communicator is very approachable. It helps you avoid bigger problems in the future.

      4. You take good care of your props, and don’t touch other people’s props

      Be careful with your props, as well as your costumes, and be especially careful with those that others need to use. There are few things worse than having something you need for a scene messed with by someone who had no business touching it in the first place– except maybe the bad feeling that comes from being the person who messed with the prop. Respecting other’s tracks in the show is very mindful.

      5. You pay close attention to the rehearsal schedule to avoid unexpected conflicts

      Calling out of rehearsal at the last minute creates a lot of problems for a lot of people. Keep your rehearsal schedule somewhere you have easy access to it, so you can reference it as needed to make sure you don’t accidentally overbook yourself. Being prepared for rehearsals is very cutesy.

      6. You come to rehearsals on time, and let the staff know if you’ll be late

      Being on time is a must. Inevitably, though, things will occasionally come up– we can’t always plan our way out of freak traffic blocks or unexpected car problems. If you are going to be late, it’s very considerate, very demure to tell the production staff ASAP. Make sure you have contact information for the appropriate people, so you can give them a heads up if something like this happens.

      7. You don’t eat in costume

      You shouldn’t eat in costume because of the potential for stains or crumbs to ruin the look your production’s costumer likely worked hard and spent money on. Respecting your costumer is very demure.

      8. You treat the production techs like human beings

      The stage carpenters, lighting designers, and audio technicians who make sure your production can happen are just as important as you are, mx. actor! Be very respectful, very demure in your communications with them. Don’t forget to treat them with kindness– and say thank you!

      9. You stay home if you’re sick

      Please, don’t come to rehearsal if you’re sick. Call on your understudies if you need them! Coming sick puts everyone’s health at risk. Putting others in harm’s way is not very cutesy.

      10. You stay professional with your fellow actors

      This means you treat each other well. But not too well. Stay away from that showmance until the production is over, girlies– it can cause real problems for the entire production. Let’s be mindful of everyone else’s boundaries and not get entangled with something that might make others uncomfortable.

      Let’s not forget to be demure, divas!

      Actor Life

      Story Time: Watch Your Step

      A couple years back, I played Miss Honey in a community theatre production of Matilda. I had an absolute blast, and I have super fond memories of that show.

      That process did, however, supply me with one of my very favorite theatre horror stories, and I love to share it.

      Towards the end of act one, Miss Honey sings the song “This Little Girl.” I was blocked to stand downstage right, right next to the proscenium, at the very front of the stage. It’s a big emotional beat in the story– Miss Honey approaches the Wormwood family to ask about getting Matilda into special classes at school, because Matilda is the most brilliant child she’s ever met. The family is not supportive: Mrs. Wormwood sings a whole song to make fun of Miss Honey and then unceremoniously throws her out of the house. Standing outside, Miss Honey debates going back inside to give Mrs. Wormwood “a piece of [her] mind,” but she is overcome with self-doubt and decides to leave instead, defeated. Just as she starts to walk away, though, she remembers that Matilda is a miracle, and deserves all the support she can get… and it seems like Miss Honey is going to be completely alone in figuring out how to support her. She is emboldened, but afraid; it’s a complex and very human moment in a high-energy, larger-than-life show.

      My blocking was very simple. At one point, I would turn to walk away, but remember what a miracle Matilda is and slowly turn back to face front. The rest of the song would be delivered straight out to the audience– I found myself staring straight into a spotlight for this part. After the song, I was to leave down a small staircase at the front of the stage and exit through the aisle of the theatre. Blackout, end of scene.

      This had been rehearsed without a hitch, but on open night, something was different.

      When I arrived at the theater that day, I had noticed some of the kids in the cast painting the two staircases that lead into either aisle of the house. That was good, they’d really needed painted, they were so scuffed!

      The issue is that those children very helpfully painted over the glow-in-the-dark tape that illuminated the edges of these black staircases.

      No one noticed this until I did, at the end of my song. I sang “This Little Girl” looking into the spotlight, as I had been doing. I finished the song to excited opening-night applause, and the lights went to blackout. I stepped forward, as I had every night of tech week, and looked down to find the first step of the staircase.

      I absolutely could not see it.

      I blinked a few times. My vision was a little funny from looking into the spotlight earlier, and now I had been plunged into darkness. I couldn’t make out the glow tape at all, it was as if the stairs weren’t even there!

      Well… I’d walked down them every night of tech week. Maybe muscle memory would be good enough. I took a step.

      And… yeah. I fell off the stage.

      I only fell about two feet. I wasn’t actually hurt, though my ego was magnificently bruised; I’d caught the very edge of the top step and tumbled down the rest. I heard the audience gasp, but I popped right back up and scampered up the aisle like I was supposed to, thoroughly embarrassed. The director was beside herself at the back of the house, I whispered a hurried “I’M FINE I’M FINE I’M FINE” as I passed and went to assess the damage before my next scene.

      I scraped my shin on the way down, but this was the extent of my injuries. I’d ripped a hole in my tights, though, so I took that pair off, put a band-aid or two over my scrape, and threw on a new pair of tights before the next scene. The rest of the show went off without a hitch, and they made extra sure there was glow tape on the steps for the rest of the run. I’ve been a stickler about glow tape ever since.

      Pro tip: Don’t step off the edge of the stage if you can’t see where you’re trying to step… it won’t go well, but at least you’ll have a good story to share.

      Actor Life, Theatre

      5 Reasons why Every High School Theatre kid Should Join Their School Choir

      What if I told you every high school theatre kid likely has access to an excellent training ground where they can grow their performing abilities, learn important music skills, and get valuable practice with performing, all for free?

      School choir is a stellar opportunity for growth that all high school theatre kids should take advantage of! Here are five ways joining school choir will make you a better, more accomplished performer.

      1. You learn to read music better

      Being able to read music is an extremely valuable skill for musical theatre actors. Reading music helps you learn it faster and understand it better. This means easier music rehearsals and easier audition prep!

      Whether you have no experience reading music or are a sight-reading expert, practice will always be necessary to keep your skills sharp, and the more practice the better! You’ll have plenty of friends and a choir director to assist you if you get confused. Since you most likely won’t have to learn any blocking or choreography (unless you’re in a show choir), choir is an opportunity to focus on the music. You’ll be able to digest complicated pieces without having to worry about anything else.

      I know a lot of performers who wish they could read music better. It’s a useful skill, and school is the perfect place to learn it!

      2. You learn more about your voice… For free

      Voice lessons can be expensive and therefore aren’t accessible to everyone. School choirs, on the other hand, are usually free, unless they require concert attire purchases or entrance fees for music and other materials. If there is a price for participating in school choir, the value in return for those dollars is likely pretty high– whereas voice lessons will typically be $20-$30 per lesson minimum, a daily choir class for 180 days of school that requires a one-time concert outfit purchase would probably amount to less than a dollar per session.

      Of course, the one-on-one training in voice lessons is indispensable, but working with a good choir director and learning all you can about singing and your voice within that setting is a fantastic alternative. If you have specific questions or want specific help, your choir teacher should be able to help you out.

      Choir settings are specifically useful to beginner singers because choir singing can explore a variety of styles and musical concepts while emphasizing principles of vocal technique. Choir is the first place many young performers learn about breath support, posture, and the vocal process, and is therefore a great place to begin training. More advanced choirs and more difficult repertoire can provide advanced singers with adequate challenge to improve as well.

      3. You get more practice singing and performing

      All practice is good practice! It’s generally true that if you want to become a better singer or performer, then any extra singing or performing you do is probably beneficial in that regard.

      Live performance opportunities are extremely worthwhile for performers. The more you perform in front of an audience, the better you learn to deal with stage fright and focus. Practicing singing in a group is also incredibly valuable, as it requires some different skills than singing alone does– group singing is all about listening and balancing with the individual performers around you.

      One of the benefits to choir participation I found when I was in school was that each choir rehearsal was essentially a mandatory daily warmup. My voice was in great shape when I was in choir– I never had a real chance to get “rusty!”

      4. You train your ear with complicated harmonies

      Learning to sing with others is a challenging skill. Learning different voice parts can be really difficult, and some musical theatre composers are notoriously challenging in this regard.

      Choir music is written in often intricate patterns of rhythm and harmony. If you can hold your own singing in a choir, you’ll build skills that will allow you to hold your own while performing shows by tricky composers like Sondheim. And again, since choir is about the music first rather than blocking or choreography, you have the opportunity to really focus on building the skills you need to tackle any complex voicing in a musical.

      5. You might not get this chance again

      There really aren’t that many opportunities to sing in a choir once you get out of school.

      Church choirs can be found in almost any town, so this is an accessible option if you attend church. Many cities have various choral societies, but these are often by audition, and your participation isn’t guaranteed. Almost every school has a choir, and school choirs are some of the most accessible choirs you’ll ever come across.

      I don’t particularly miss much about high school, but getting to sing with a choir is definitely something I wish I could revisit as an adult.

      Take advantage of this opportunity while you have it!

      Actor Life, Guides and Tips, Theatre

      The Secret to Success in Performing Arts: Mastering 3 Vital Traits

      I’ve been around a lot of performers in a lot of different settings. I’ve directed, I’ve taught, I’ve acted, I’ve watched from both the audience and the stage manager’s booth. Every performer is unique, and everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. Yet, in all of the actors, dancers, and musicians I’ve worked with, I have found that there are exactly three traits every truly excellent performer has in common.

      These traits are instrumental to success in the performing arts. You won’t get very far without them, and having them can put you on top in close auditions.

      If you can honestly say you have these three traits, then pat yourself on the back! If you’re not so sure, read over this article closely and do what you can to pick them up immediately.

      Continue reading

      Actor Life, directing, Theatre

      We All Have to Get Real About the “Will You Accept Another Role?” Question on Audition Forms

      If both actors and directors use it dishonestly, it might as well not be there— but it’s a useful tool when handled with integrity.

      Let’s set the mental stage: you’re auditioning for your favorite musical. Jittery with adrenaline and excitement, you politely greet the audition monitor and receive an audition form. 

      The standard questions are present. After filling in your personal information, the form asks if you are auditioning for any particular role. Of course, the role you really want is the lead, which is your absolute dream role. You write it down. But the line below that one presents a problem.

      “ARE YOU WILLING TO ACCEPT ANOTHER ROLE? CIRCLE: YES/NO.”

      The mind games begin.

      Read more: We All Have to Get Real About the “Will You Accept Another Role?” Question on Audition Forms

      You pause. This is your favorite musical. You’d love to just be a part of it. But you also know that the production dates fall on the same weekend your childhood friend is getting married. You really, really want to support her… and you also really want to play your dream role. If you land that role, it would be worth missing the wedding for. On the other hand, if you don’t manage to get the part, you would be willing to wait until the next time a local company produces the show to be in it.

      You consider your answer. You know it isn’t the answer many directors want. Would it call your dedication into question? But then why would they bother asking?, you wonder, and you circle “NO.”

      Who can say exactly how this anecdote ends? Maybe the production staff asked the question in earnest, and will decide to cast you in your dream role after all. Unfortunately, it’s also as likely that this question hasn’t been asked in earnest— haven’t we all heard horror stories of directors who ask this question as a sort of trap, and toss out on principle any form with that answer? How many actors feel this fear and circle “yes,” only to have their dishonesty come back to bite them once cast?

      I’ve yet to meet someone who disagrees that honestly is the best policy. However, in this case, honesty can be a trap unless both parties— the actor filling out the form and the director receiving it— are willing to be honest. 

      A Useful Audition Staple

      This question, “Are you willing to accept another role?”, is common on audition forms in community and school theater circles. It’s always preceded by the question of which roles the actor is interested in. Some directors forgo asking both questions, arguing that an actor should audition for a show itself and not a specific role. And anyway, the director always has final say on casting, and the director’s vision may not align with the actor’s. Why give them the input at all? Some actors just don’t have a good concept of where they fit best in a production. Perhaps they don’t quite understand their type, or the types of the other actors auditioning with them. Regardless, the director’s say is king.

      As a director and as an actor, I think asking both of these questions— “Are there any specific roles you want?” and “Are you willing to accept another role?”— is valuable. Despite the claim that these questions contribute to actors’ egoism (and I can understand the feeling behind this thought), it’s important to remember that directors cannot know the reasoning behind an actor’s answers to these questions. These questions are helpful for receiving more information about actors auditioning for a production. While it would be inappropriate to ask actors to justify why they noted that they wouldn’t accept another role, it is already helpful to know that they wouldn’t! Certainly, asking the question is better than not asking it and ending up with a number of actors quitting the show because they, for one reason or another, aren’t willing to play the role in which they were cast.

      A lesser-thought-of benefit to asking this question is gauging an actor’s comfort with certain roles. Perhaps an actor is auditioning for an innocent character in an otherwise sexually charged show— it’s possible that actor is comfortable with playing only that character for personal reasons. Getting this information is crucial.

      I would advocate that production staffs take this a step further and ask on their audition forms if there are any roles for which actors are not interested in being considered. A good blanket example of this question’s usefulness would be the show Heathers. Perhaps an actor would feel uncomfortable playing a role where her weight is commented on or made fun of— a very understandable case, in which she should be allowed to opt out of being seen for Martha or Heather Duke. Perhaps an actor would feel very uncomfortable with the thought of handling and firing prop firearms, and would want to opt out of being seen for Veronica or JD.

      The bottom line is that directors can’t read an actor’s mind. Therefore, any information the audition form can provide the director about the actor and their wishes is of benefit. Asking whether an actor is willing to accept another role is advantageous. Rather than resisting this question for fear of egoism, directors stand to benefit from asking this question and more. The caveat, then, is that this question must be used with integrity.

      Penalized for Honesty

      As I’ve mentioned, a number of directors dislike this question on audition forms and refuse to use it. They believe it indicates an egotistical streak in the actor and excuses diva-like behavior. I think this is an incorrect and unfair assumption to leap to, but if the director truly feels this way, then certainly, they should leave this question off their audition form. 

      The real problem arises when this question is put on an audition form and used as a sort of underhanded test. We’ve all heard horror stories of directors who include this question on their audition forms and then toss out any form with a “no” response on principle. I have personally heard production staff members argue in favor of doing this! This practice is misleading and manipulative. The production staff holds a position of authority over actors. In an audition room, the production staff holds all the power. It is utterly dishonest to abuse this authority and penalize an actor for truthfully expressing their feelings in response to a question you asked!

      Because this question is sometimes asked deceptively, actors are forced to consider answering dishonestly. If the only way to be cast is to lie and say you’re willing to accept a role you’re not, then every actor will mark this on their form, or else they would simply not audition in the first place!

      Consider the implications of an environment where an actor’s only opportunities arise if they are willing to say yes to everything, no questions asked, even if they aren’t really comfortable. This creates an unsafe and coercive culture. 

      If you are directing at an institution where you do not get to dictate what is on the audition form, and are therefore powerless to remove this question, you absolutely must use it honestly and not penalize actors for telling you the truth. If you don’t want actors to say no, then you shouldn’t ask at all.

      Honesty is the Policy

      The dishonesty with how this question is treated creates an environment where actors and directors must both play a sort of game of chicken to deduce who is being truthful. Actors, fearing directors have included the question as a test of loyalty, are inclined to dishonestly answer yes. Directors, unsure of whether actors have answered truthfully or not, find the question is utterly useless on every form that says yes, because separating the actors who were being honest from those who answered out of fear is impossible. 

      Indeed, plenty of actors lie when it comes to this question, even when the director is asking it sincerely. It’s generally understood that after casting notices are sent out, at least a few actors will quit a production. But actors are faced with a hard choice if they know they have a 50/50 shot of shooting themselves in the foot by telling the truth!

      Directors are responsible for ending this standoff. As the ones with all the power in an audition, they must treat this question as the useful opportunity for gathering information that it is, and not as a personal affront. When and only when directors are known to ask this question with integrity will actors be able to answer truthfully.

      Of course, some actors will continue to be dishonest, even if the question is posed in earnest. I think it’s important for directors to acknowledge this and let it go. Remember, a director cannot read an actor’s mind. There will never be any way of knowing for sure which actors quit a show because they didn’t like their role. School and community theatre is a huge time commitment, and deciding not to participate in a production is often a multifaceted decision. Assuming positive intent creates a healthier environment for us all.

      Directors: Ask the valuable question in good faith. Treat the answers as honest. If anyone in the situation is going to lie, it definitely shouldn’t be you. 

      Actors: Treat the question in good faith. If it wasn’t, you’ll have avoided working with a director who uses their power in unscrupulous ways. If it was, you lose nothing. You’ll be better off either way. 

      Actor Life, Theatre

      The Single Most Important Skill in Theatre: Knowing When to Get the F*ck Out of the Way

      I’ve spent my fair share of time building sets and working run crew. When surrounded by fast-moving set pieces, people carrying heavy objects, and other moving parts that could easily hurt you and others, you learn very quickly the importance of getting the f*ck out of the way.

      I’ve also done my fair share of performing, and I’ve even done a little directing. In time, I’ve discovered that knowing when it’s time to just get out of the way is in fact the most important skill any theatre artist can develop.

      Physically, mentally, and emotionally, sometimes the most important thing you’ll do on stage is just f*cking move and let the others do the work they’re there to do.

      Continue reading
      Actor Life, Theatre

      The Comfort in Saying “I Can’t”

      I would love to be a belter. One of those pure Broadway belters who can effortlessly hit high notes all day long with their perfect, clear tone, as if it’s the most normal, natural, easy task ever. It’s something I’ve been really trying to work towards ever since I started performing– and, speaking humbly, I think I’ve made some strides.

      I’d also love to be a dancer. But I “can’t dance.” Guess how my dancing skills have developed?

      If you guessed, they haven’t at all, you’re probably more or less correct. At least, I don’t think my dancing skills have developed. But I haven’t really been looking for improvement in that area, anyway. That’s the beauty of simply saying “I can’t.”

      Continue reading