Stage Bound

Welcome to the Wonderful World of Common Casting," reads a chalked sign in the Loeb Ex’s black box theatre, a surreal room transformed by candy, a functioning green swing, and drum beat soundtrack. Returning actors greet one another with full body hugs, while nervous novices and first-years fret over potentially awkward interaction with strangers, especially when directed to act "sexual, but not explicit."

Once called, a stage manager leads actors upstairs, walking backward, tour guide-style, and punctuating her spiel by deep gasps for breath. There is a quick sizing up as a director distributes parts, then the groups of two or three head down the hallways, past headless tailor dummies and tables covered with pairs of black shoes from former shows.

The Harvard-Radcliffe Dramatic Club (HRDC), a board of directors, actors, and producers that decides which plays will be performed each season and monitors administrative details, controls this inner sanctum of the theater world. These are self-proclaimed "theater people"—loud, boisterous, and comfortable in the spotlight.

Four writers from The Crimson receive passports to this bizarre universe for one week, as they follow seven participants to understand Harvard’s biannual Common Casting process (see sidebar). The fate of spring semester’s productions and the complexities of Harvard theater will unfold, as we shadow two directors—an HRDC vet and an ambitious non-conformist—and five actors—two "A-listers," two rising stars, and one cavalier first-timer—from pitching the shows to picking roles.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

In some ways, the bearded and mellow-voiced director Chris N. Hanley ’07 is the George Lucas of the Harvard theater world. A deceptively relaxed industry outsider—he’s directed three shows and none for HRDC—Hanley is focused as much on the business of theater as on the art.

"It’s something I don’t think is encouraged and taught to students here: how to do show business," he says. He’s only emphasizing "business" because most other directors fixate strictly on their "show."

Casting and directing the musical "Chicago," Hanley’s ambitions center on a goal few Harvard shows ever attempt, let alone accomplish: he wants to turn a profit.

Director Aoife E. Spillane-Hinks ’06, on the other hand, never seems concerned with anything but the spirit of her artwork. She directed "Slavs!" last fall and J.M. Synge’s "The Playboy of the Western World," will be her second consecutive production on the Loeb’s mainstage—an honor most Harvard directors never even experience once.

She also has academic interests at stak—the playwright is the subject of Spillane-Hink’s thesis in Folklore and Mythology, of which this staging will be a part.

Still, "a production isn’t a research paper," she writes in an e-mail and she plans on "selling the show as a great story."

Actors are her best customers.

Theater was never the obvious choice for Liam R. Martin ’06. The blond-haired, blue-eyed government concentrator was a varsity athlete in high school. But an injury—what he now calls a "blessing in disguise"—cut sports recruiting short, and when he tried Common Casting the fall of junior year, he soon landed roles on the Loeb Mainstage with professional directors. Next fall, he will head to New York, not as an investment banker, as was originally planned, but as the latest hopeful looking for a big break.

"I went from kind of a zero to having it be my whole life," he says.

When Catherine P. Walleck ’06 entered the Loeb her sophomore fall, she was looking for a new activity to throw herself into.

"I felt like at Harvard, I was lacking in a fun extracurricular," she recalls.

Last spring she took parts in five productions, and last summer she interned at the Berkshire Theatre Festival. As she heads for the Agassiz Theatre, she is just returning from graduate school callback auditions in Chicago.

"I feel like I’ve sort of raced with the big dogs a little bit and now I’ve come back to my home ground where I feel very safe, very welcomed," she says.

Newcomer Brian C. Polk ’09 has enjoyed tremendous success, snagging three roles last semester, including the lead in the HRDC production, "The White Rose."

Now, he must defend his title. He plans to audition for four of the 18 shows during spring Common Casting. "I’m not picky," Polk says, "and I’m certainly not someone who goes, ‘I’m above that show.’"

Barry A. Shafrin ’09 likewise impressed audiences last semester, through his portrayal of leading man Brad in the HRDC’s "The Rocky Horror Show," along with other minor roles.

Harvard veteran director Mary E. Birnbaum ’07 tapped the promising Shafrin to be the assistant director for the high-profile run of Federico Garcia Lorca’s "The House of Bernarda Alba" this spring.

And then, there’s Wojtek P. Kaszynski ’07. For him, Common Casting is all fun and games.

Unlike the other four actors, Kaszynski’s previous theater experience is "minimal."

"I was Puumba once," he says, referring to a grade-school interpretation of Disney’s "The Lion King." The role seems odd now. Kaszynski—originally from Warsaw, Poland—is blonde and beaming, hardly a porcine presence.

Now, after encouragement from friends, and aided by the all-are-welcome atmosphere of Common Casting, this applied-math concentrator will try his hand at the stage for the first time since childhood. He will only audition for Hanley’s "Chicago"

SELLING THE SHOW

"Chicago" is an independently funded production at the Agassiz Theater, without financial backing from the HRDC. Currently, the show is $5,798 in debt, flying on a loan from the Harvard Club of Mississippi, a $5,000 loan from the Agassiz Theatre, and a prayer.

But despite the obstacles, Hanley trusts he’ll do the impossible: rake in roughly $25,000 from "Chicago," and donate the funds to the Office for the Arts at Harvard, as an endowment for House drama productions.

Hanley’s expectations—while seemingly implausible—are not entirely unfounded. Last year, he directed Steve Martin’s "Picasso at the Lapin Agile" for the Winthrop House Drama Society, selling out all five shows and making an unprecedented $900.

Hanley prides himself on drawing from resources outside the traditional Harvard theater bubble—his four choreographers are members of the Harvard Dance Team, and his jazz orchestra is composed entirely of members of the Harvard Jazz Bands.

Regardless, as a non-Mainstage production, the odds are stacked against him.

"With Common Casting…you would rather take a chorus part in a Mainstage show than a lead role in a House show," he says.

From day one, the pressure is on for Hanley.

But for the relaxed and affable Spillane-Hinks, Common Casting is an affair among friends, full of laughs and hugs. She and her producers mill about the Loeb Ex with comic book-inspired flyers advertising "P.O.W.W.!" (an acronym for the play cleverly disguised as Batman-esque onomatopoeia).

Even without any immediate pressure, Spillane-Hinks maintains a strict professionalism throughout the process. By the final night of Common Casting, she manages to boil down her play’s selling points into one concise sentence: "It happens to take place 100 years ago and it happens to take place in Ireland, but it could take place in Iowa and it could take place on the stage of Jerry Springer."

COMMON CULTURE

During Common Casting week, actors wait their turn to audition from 6 p.m. until midnight. The process works with surprising efficiency; hopefuls sign up to audition for specific plays, they are called up a handful at a time and given script excerpts, or "sides," for their preliminary stab at stardom.

For returning actors, Common Casting is "really spending a week reconnecting with friends," says Walleck.

This is the fourth time through for Martin, the sixth for Walleck, and both have developed strategies to psych out the directors, waiting until the end of the week to audition so that directors have time to feel out the competition. Directors and producers have seen them—often acted with them—before, meaning that their presence at an audition registers.

"You have to get your first break and then by senior year you have better options," Walleck adds.

Martin acknowledges that the experience can be "political" and that it helps "to know people." But he praises the efficiency of the process. "I think it’s kind of the perfect way to organize the college theater process," he says. "When you’re doing it, it kind of sucks—you’re so tired and jumping around from thing to thing, trying not to piss directors off—but looking back on it, it’s really fun,"

To Shafrin, finishing the first day of auditions not only alleviates a lot of stress, but highlights the extreme difference compared to his first Common Casting week.

"You come in as a freshman, not only do you not know any people," he says, "but you don’t really know what shows are good, what shows are bad, what you should be nervous for."

Now, however, the friends and connections he has made during first semester make the process a bit easier: "If you have a horrible audition, they still know what you’re capable of."

At the same time, performing for familiar faces creates some difficulty. "It’s easier to be crazy and uninhibited in front of total strangers rather than friends," says Shafrin.

‘BOOTY-SHAKE-SHAKE-SHAKE’

Among needles, snakes, and spiders, Polk announces that he is afraid of things in between his teeth. Oh, and collared shirts. "Those really freak me out," he says.

The show is "Knock," and during auditions director Jess R. Burkle ’06 asks actors to introduce themselves by name and phobias.

At "Playboy" auditions in the ornate Horner Room of the Agassiz, Spillane-Hinks and her producers sit behind a long table, calm and serious. That’s not to say they’re all business—they aren’t afraid to laugh with actors, especially those they know.

But Executive Producer Zoe M. Savitsky ’07 gives even friends of the production team a carefully rehearsed speech, detailing the information they need for callbacks. She encourages them to visit the play’s website and join its e-mail list—another uniquely professional advertising strategy Spillane-Hinks employs.

Spillane-Hinks recognizes that, "we’re both auditioning for each other." She compares the interactions between actor and director to a choreographed routine: "The objective of the scene is to say, ‘We are responsible, we are focused, we are good people.’"

But still, she insists that her professionalism has other causes. "It’s less about an image and more about respect for the work we’re doing," she says.

Spillane-Hinks compares it to the college admissions process. She isn’t looking for something specific or for a reason to mark an actor down, only for the positives they bring. What matters to her most is the actor’s ability to react and change.

"This time could you try to get him to laugh?" she asked one actress she had never seen before. Giving actors notes like this is important to Spillane-Hinks; it levels the playing field, giving her an idea of what these unknown quantities will be like in rehearsals.

"It’s about looking for actors who are willing to listen to the text, listen to each other, and listen to me," she says.

Hanley and his crew sit behind a long table in the basement of the Loeb Drama Center. In the long stretches of idleness, they worry about turnout for "Chicago," although rumors that "everyone" was talking about their show in Annenberg seem to cheer the gang’s spirits.

There is a strange moment of silent formality as the first few actors hand in their Common Casting forms. The moment before performance is the actor’s last moment of anonymity.

Kaszynski arrives at auditions from his regular Ballroom Dancing lessons, clad in a tight black tee and dark jeans.

"And left-right-left, booty-shake-shake-shake," chants the choreographer of "Chicago" as she teaches a dance to boys who try to master the counts. Kaszynski, though slower to learn the steps than the others, looks focused and comfortable.

After the dance, Kaszynski is given a monologue and delivers his lines clearly and forcefully, Polish accent and all. Then comes the singing. Kaszynski does not have a song prepared, so is given the notes and lyrics to "Maybe This Time" from "Cabaret."

"It’s going to be semi-slash-totally embarrassing," Kaszynski says, panicking a little before the performance. His voices shakes, and the tune wanders into upper echelons, but he survives.

Although most of the casting decisions come down to intangible factors like "presence" and the actor’s particular "fit" for "Chicago," Hanley relies on formulaic tests, like giving actors a nervous tic, to evaluate the auditioners. "Okay, I want you to do it again. This time, I’m going to give you a spasm," Hanley says to another auditioning actor.

At first, Hanley’s notes are copious and detailed, and there are long discussions about each actor. Time still seems unlimited to them.

As the week progresses and more actors audition, difficulties particular to Harvard’s Common Casting system start to clutter the way. The system is particularly tricky for Hanley because "Chicago" is a musical, and so he has to audition people for three different skills: singing, acting, and dancing. There are so many small parts to cram into a single audition space and a few minutes of time, that it’s hard to coordinate everything.

Although clearly frustrated, Hanley is unwilling to pin blame specifically on the HRDC’s inability to provide space, stressing that "it’s not their fault" and that the need for more space is universal across Common Casting.

CALLBACKS

If Common Casting is a play in itself, then callbacks are the tense climax.

The mood is subdued Saturday morning as callback lists are posted. Actors walk around the black box with notebooks, writing down the wheres and whens of their callbacks.

Both Walleck and Martin have cast their net wide, trying out for eight or nine shows. They are hesitant to name particular parts they are gunning for, although it is clear that the Mainstage productions—"Knock" and "The Playboy of the Western World"—have caught their attention. Martin even requested a copy of the "Playboy" script in advance to familiarize himself with the plot, character motivations, and difficult Irish language that trips people up throughout auditions.

Martin and Walleck have been called back for everything for which they auditioned.

"I must have five overlapping auditions. It’s really annoying because I on purpose tried out for less shows," says Martin, who has described callbacks as "two days of hell."

"That said, it’s a good conflict to have," he adds.

The callbacks are more intense than auditions, with directors offering more feedback and direction, asking actors to run scenes multiple times. The hallway where people wait to enter the room already has a fatigued backstage feel.

"I love the way it works, but at the same time I don’t think it serves the best interests of the directors and the actors," Walleck says.

"As an artist you want to play at your top level, but after hour six you’re like, ‘what the hell can I show them that they haven’t seen yet?’" she adds.

Polk earns callbacks for all four of the shows for which he auditioned.

"I’m really excited for ‘Richard II,’" he says. "I’ve been called back for two pretty juicy things." The roles he reads for—Bollingbroke and York—share top billing with Richard.

At Winthrop House, where the Chicago callbacks are stationed, Kaszynski is being called back for the part of "The Emcee."

While Polk and Kaszynski scramble from the Loeb to their respective callbacks, Shafrin rushes elsewhere: his family. Unfortunately, a family emergency demands that Shafrin leave Cambridge immediately, preventing him from attending all but 30 minutes’ worth of callbacks.

Shafrin misses the sessions for "Knock," "Alice and Wonderland," and a much-sought-after spot in the Sunken Garden Children’s Theater’s show. He calls each director, explaining his situation and thanking them for understanding.

The Common Casting system—which crams all auditions into one week—may stop Shafrin from acting this semester.

THE ESSENTIAL PARADOX

Over 110 actors auditioned for "Chicago;" 49 have been called back for consideration for the final cast of 22. The actors called back are grouped by the part for which they are being considered. In the process, the actors become anonymous—"Get the Velmas in here!" Hanley yells. It’s as if, in this late stage of the game, the characters become more real than the actors.

Therein lies a shocking, but central paradox of any audition process: in the final stretch, the directors’ knowledge of the characters is tested far more than the actors’ abilities. The individual actors all can sing, dance, and act. What matters is the director’s vision—he has to know exactly who will make the best possible Roxie or Velma.

"That rare someone comes in and just is a part," he says. He explains that many final casting choices ultimately rely on the director’s intuitive sense of the characters: "She’s just got that little ‘erk’ that makes you think, ‘She could be a murderess,’" Hanley comments. Often the casting decisions are made right after auditions.

Hanley says he’s satisfied with the cast he chose. He stresses the difficulty of making the final decisions. "Everybody that we called back was extremely talented," he sighs. "It literally came down to the beauty being in the details."

For Spillane-Hinks, callbacks are a hectic, but playful, process, as she enjoys testing various actor permutations. She often has actors perform a scene while "goaltending," an exercise in which one actor attempts to reach the wall while another tries to stop him.

Self-assured but still speaking gently, she gives the actors more pointed and direct notes. "I want you guys to settle more into your authority," she says to a pair. And she makes sure that actors properly understand the characters. "Widow Quinn never wonders whether she has the power of the situation," she tells one actress.

But after callbacks, Spillane-Hinks is forced to take a difficult step back and allow the actors to take control.

FINAL DECISIONS

Once directors have posted cast lists, they can only anxiously wait for actors’ calls and hope that those they cast accept their roles.

During this time, Spillane-Hinks turns to Practical Aesthetics, an acting technique based in Stoic philosophy. "You can’t control how you feel and you can’t control how other people feel, but you can control how hard you work," she says. "I sit down and I think about the play…I force myself to go back and work even further in analyzing the play and analyzing what each character is about."

The actors, however, already sold, need no more convincing it seems. Only two of her twelve first-choice actors turn their roles down—so they can take larger roles in other productions. Her past experience proves invaluable. "I was the most professional I’ve ever been in the process because I know how to best do it," she says.

First-round cast-lists go up, and Hanley thinks "Chicago" stands a good chance of winning over its leads because of the show’s natural appeal as well as its fast-moving production schedule.

"We’re gonna have an amazing cast," he says, but stops himself for a reality check. "If people accept. Hopefully everybody does."

Then, something astonishing happens. Every first-round lead accepts his or her part.

The news is good for actors as well. Walleck and Martin have received parts in both Mainstage productions, as well as a handful of other shows. They talk to directors and other actors to come to their final decision about which parts to take. Ultimately, both end up accepting the offered roles in "Playboy."

Unique factors complicate their decisions this semester. Martin’s thesis—on the plays of Aeschylus—is due in a month. Walleck has roles in two off-campus productions. And for both of them it is their last semester acting at Harvard.

"It was really, really difficult this semester," Walleck says, "I was not only taking into consideration what parts I liked but also that this was going to be my last non-professional production and the last chance to act with really my closest friends."

Polk hears "buzz" around the lists that the first-round pick for Richard II hasn’t accepted his part yet, and that he’ll refuse it. He then finds out that he’s the first alternate for the role.

Under the Common Casting system, roles are offered to a primary actor and multiple alternates; if the primary turns down the role during the 24-hour period between initial cast-list postings and final cast-list decisions, the first alternate has the opportunity to grab it.

The rumors turn out to be true. Phone calls are made, and all of a sudden, Polk goes from being virtually shut-out (he had received only one other role) to being on top.

"I struck out except in ‘Richard II,’ which was really lucky because that was the show I was really interested in." Still, he says, it’s "a scary prospect to not have those kind of choices. Maybe I didn’t even put my best foot forward with the other shows."

Connections and past success pull Shafrin through in the clinch. Despite the setbacks, he lands a lead in "The Pelican," snags a small supporting role in "Alice and Wonderland," and makes the Children’s Theater, one of only two freshmen accepted this semester.

"With my situation, it just shows that Common Casting is very actor friendly," Shafrin explains. "They really want people to be comfortable and be showcased and be at their best."

Kaszynski walked to the Loeb "not expecting anything," he explains, only to discover that he’s nailed the role of the Emcee in Chicago.

"It was all for done for fun. I’ve had a great time," he reflects after the dust has settled. "I’ll probably audition next fall."

He excitedly sums up the surreal experience in his non-native language: "I think some many random things that together form a funny picture, that I’ll always look back as a hilarious experience that I will talk about."

Spillane-Hinks spends over 40 hours on the week-and-a-half Common Casting process, while still attending class, writing her thesis, and working on applications to graduate programs.

Yet, for her Common Casting is a positive experience that gives her the chance to see her vision take shape. "As with any show, I’m just excited to see people speak the words," she says, reflecting on the work at hand.

But despite all her knowledge and preparation, Spillane-Hinks recognizes that she can view the play in a new light. "The surprises are some of the best parts of the auditions," she says.

Hanley sums up his goals for the final cast of "Chicago" in a reference to his previous work on "Picasso." "When you were watching the scene, it wasn’t a play," he recalls. "People felt like they were looking through a window—it’s the goal of theater, a scene of life." That has been Hanley’s guiding vision throughout the Common Casting process: the hope of making his expansive dreams very real.

With his cast selected at last, Hanley is one step closer to doing just that. Still deeply in debt and pressed for time, he’s passed the first hurdle. But for this ambitious outsider, the business of the show has only begun.

—Staff writer Mary A. Brazelton can be reached at mbrazelt@fas.harvard.edu.

—Staff writer Patrick R. Chesnut can be reached at pchesnut@fas.harvard.edu

—Staff writer Lindsay A. Maizel can be reached at lmaizel@fas.harvard.edu

—Staff writer Natalie I. Sherman can be reached at nsherman@fas.harvard.edu.