Tonight, Doug, Kate and I met to hear the last few auditions for “Beauty and the Beast” (they are STILL coming out of the woodwork) and then to sit down and try to figure out who we can need, who we can use, and who we simply can’t find a place for in our cast. It is a tough and frustrating task, especially when you go about it as carefully and as humanely as we do. I don’t mean to engage in flagrant back-patting here, but I really am proud of the fact that Doug takes this task so seriously and works so hard to be fair to everyone and yet safeguard the RTG and the kind of quality to which our audiences are now accustomed. It’s that last part which prevents us from casting sweet Bertha Bathrobe in the lead, even though we know she desperately wants it and has worked tirelessly behind the scenes for the last two productions. If only we could cast shows that way! What a relief it would be!
There are so many factors involved in these decisions – and because one decision hinges on another, the whole thing starts to feel like the world’s most intricate house of cards. We need people who can really sing, who will have a lively presence onstage, and (especially in this show) people who can dance. . . plus, if at all possible, we want people who are a pleasure to work with and who will not be more trouble than they’re worth. Then there’s the whole business of giving new people a chance versus being good to the people who are good to the RTG and are faithful supporters with volunteer hours. But how do you assess someone strikingly talented who nonetheless has never darkened our doorway before or who only shows up to audition and has never shown the slightest inclination to help out in any way? How do they stack up against someone who is earnest and hardworking and sweet-natured but possessing only a pedestrian talent – or maybe not much talent at all? And for that matter, what about all the tough choices we might have between 6 excellent candidates for one role? We might love the look of one, the voice of another, the acting of another, etc.
It is especially tough when we get to that part of the evening where we are crossing people off of the ensemble list. . . sometimes drawing a line through the name of someone we know well and like a lot. . . and sometimes crossing off the name of a newcomer to the RTG whose talent we have barely had a chance to fully assess and who might be worth taking a chance on . . .
And what is particularly tough is when we know that at least some of the people who auditioned are waiting by their phones, scarcely able to wait for Doug’s call and- they hope – the good news they’ve been praying for. And in a few cases, they are hoping and praying and dreaming for something that they believe is just within their grasp but that we might regard as completely ridiculous. This especially happens with people who subscribe to the You’re as Young as you Feel philosophy, not realizing that all the vitality in the world is still not going to turn a 65-year-old into a 25- year-old. . . or people who are able to put together a decent song for an audition but who do not seem to grasp that being able to sing a major solo role is something entirely different. Or someone who sings well but stands there like a stick. Or someone who seizes the stage with such vitality but whose singing could neuter a cat. etc.
What is the great miracle in all this is how incredibly well this usually works out . . . with some people terribly disappointed, of course . . . but by and large with people coming to accept it and to trust that all kinds of thought has gone into each and every choice. Because it has. And because the final choice rests with Doug – and he’s the one who gets to call people up and either give them the great news or break the bad news to them, I have to once again express my astonishment that he hasn’t gone completely gray – or bald – from the stress of it all. I guess what allows you to sleep at night even after wrestling with decisions as tough as these is knowing that you gave your all to it- in the same way that those people gave their all as they got up on that stage and auditioned for us.
Anyway, Doug jokingly suggested that kate and I both bring a pillow and blanket to our meeting, thinking that it might turn out to be an All-Nighter. . . which it didn’t quite turn out to be . . . but by the time we straggled out of there at 10:15, it felt like we’d run two marathons, memorized the periodic table, and taken three trigonometry quizzes. But at least we walked out with the cast mostly chosen – and this great sense of impatience to put this part of the experience behind us and get down to the Real Fun of Putting on a Show. That’s why we do this . . .and not for the thankless task of whittling down a list of 180 people to 40. That has to be among the worst jobs in the world – right up there with Digging Latrines.