Succeeding in improv auditions
Welcome to the terrifying world of competitive improv auditions: an art-form you were assured was mainly about collaboration. 11 tips to get out of your head and get on that team.
You’ve finished courses at your theatre and you’re ready to audition for a house team. Fantastic! Welcome to the terrifying world of competitive improv auditions: an artform you were assured was mainly about collaboration.
It makes no sense. But like democracy, auditions are the worst form of whittling down potential cast members, except for all those others that have been tried. It is somewhat useful to see how people play together and how they handle the pressure of doing a show.
Even so, every show, audition panel and audition itself is different. As an auditionee, you’re not in control of any of those things, but you are in control of your approach to the whole process.
Here’s some observations from 16 years on both sides of the audition room, from Harold teams, to narrative shows, to short-form teams, to high-concept genre shows, and low-concept bar-prov. These things that give you a better chance of either getting on a show cast and/or making your peace with it not happening this time.
Do you actually want this?
There’s no money in being on an improv team. It will be a significant time commitment. You will be expected to continually promote and invite people to see shows. You will receive notes from a coach on your performances, some of which you’ll disagree with. You will have to enjoy performing. You’ll have to be comfortable with jealous unsuccessful auditionees seething in the front row of shows. If this doesn’t sound like fun, it might not be for you.
On the upside, you’ll meet a bunch of brilliant people, improve your craft and voice, get regular stagetime and contribute as a leader in your performing community. You’ll make lifelong friends and memories. If the show isn’t in your natural wheelhouse of interests, it can’t hurt to be proactive by doing some research on tropes and genre beats that the panel might be looking for. Auditionees that exude enthusiasm always stand out.
2. The odds might be long
If your theatre is in a position to host house shows, it likely has a very large community of students, performers (and hopefully audience members!). Most audition call-outs at my home theatre, The Free Association, attract 150-200 auditionees. Often, that’s for only 8-10 slots. I heard the UCB in LA had 800 auditionees for their recent Harold call-out.
There will always be many more capable, talented and lovely improvisers who would do a great job, than there are available spots on teams. You probably did a great job in the audition. Unfortunately, so did loads of other people.
Don’t be discouraged if you don’t make it on a show this time. Arithmetic is against you.
3. You’re nervous. You’re not alone.
Nobody enjoys auditioning. Your fellow auditionees are just as nervous as you. Try to convince yourself that nerves feel the same as excitement. Nerves are infectious, so is joy. People like to be around confident people. Fake it if you need to.
4. Trust that the audition panel are humans trying their best
They might be nervous too. They might still be figuring out the show itself and what it needs. It might be the first time they’re making these decisions. It might be the thousandth time. It might be their eighth audition group of the day and they’re flagging. It might be just before lunch and they’re hungry. They might have got into an argument with another panel member. They might be secretly in love with them and partly occupied with that. They might be worried they left the oven on at home.
None of this is anything you can control. Trust that no-one relishes the always-difficult decision-making process of casting a show. It means letting down lots of performers they are friends with, have taught or coached, performed alongside, looked up to, etc. If they actively enjoy making these decisions, you don’t want to be in their show anyway.
The audition panel truly want you to be great. They want to put the best possible shows up on stage. That depends on people doing a great audition. It’ll be a painful decision for them, but they’d rather have too many castable people than too few.
5. Wear comfortable clothes that you would wear on stage
As important as auditions might feel, it probably isn’t the time for ball-gowns and dinner jackets. Dress for the job you want: a moderately professional improviser. You could end up playing pretty much any character in the audition. That probably means comfortable pants, shoes and a shirt (plaid and Converse is optional). Sorry, that’s really lame, but this isn’t the Met Gala and a vain improviser won’t play the disgusting space slug character that this scene demands.
It can’t hurt to wear a somewhat bold colour to make you more memorable, but if that’s all you have, you have bigger worries. Avoid clothes with distracting messages (your funniest t-shirt isn’t that funny).
6. Be on time
I can’t believe this needs clarifying, but be on time for your audition. It’s unsettling for fellow auditionees when someone hasn’t turned up, or turns up late. It also means repeating introductions, warm-ups and instructions. Mostly. it doesn’t look great for your reliability if you were cast and if you’ve rushed, you won’t be in the best place to do your best work.
Arrive early, meet fellow auditionees, warm-up properly (this should be led by someone from the panel. If not, just be polite and try to relax, or whatever it takes to get in your show headspace without troubling others).
Obviously, emergencies happen, but being late because you just didn’t allow enough time or didn’t double-check where the location of the venue isn’t cool.
7. Don’t be a dick
An extension to being on time. Show directors want to work with nice, dependable, people. They don’t want to handle difficult energies in the rehearsal room. Other cast members don’t either.
Nobody is so talented that they can overcome being a dick. It’s just improv: I can afford to take a punt on one of the other capable (or even less capable) auditionees who are actually pleasant to be around. Putting together an improv team is as much about group chemistry as it is about individual skills. In fact, group chemistry is probably more important than anything else.
This also applies to the initial audition call-out. If you’re asked for a summary of your experience, fill it in properly. It isn’t the place to do bits, the panel needs to shortlist somehow and to be fair to everyone, they have to do it based on what they see. Give your best availability for audition slots and once you have, guard it against all other avoidable diary commitments.
It’s likely that you will be able to swap if you need to, but frankly it is such a pain to shuffle round audition slots on this scale, why would you want to annoy the decision-makers? Don’t ask for it because you double-booked for a lunch date, football game or somehow, a 3-week holiday. These are all real excuses I’ve received: none of these people made it on those shows, funnily enough.
Audition panels can correct for strange behaviour based on nerves. They won’t correct for you being an arsehole.
8. Make choices
To stand out against those odds, you have to do something. Initiate a scene early so you’re not increasingly stuck to the backline, do spacework, respond emotionally to offers, play a proactive voice of reason.
Play to the top of your intelligence. Don’t lazily label characters with stereotypes (see ‘Don’t Be A Dick’). Be especially careful that your nervousness doesn’t manifest in choices that might hurt others, punch down or play the same scene you’ve played a thousand times. Make fun positive choices. Try to enjoy it.
9. Be supportive
This is the hardest one to pull off. It will mean passing up some opportunities to go for a big gag or huge character, which is easier said than done when you only have a short amount of time to make an impression.
Remember, the panel is trying to build a balanced ensemble. They can’t pack a show full of the same type of players, and especially a team full of joke fiends. The panel will be just as keen to find improvisers that play supportively, edit well and play grounded reality in scenes. This is valuable work. The panel are likely experienced improvisers who can recognise it when they see it.
10. Listen
This is also very difficult to pull off in the melee of strong choices, trying not to be a dick, not to be nervous, being supportive, etc. Listen to what’s happening on stage, what other improvisers are doing and what the set requires. The initiation you wanted to do 4 scenes ago about the murderous robot with a human heart? It’s gone. It wouldn’t be wise to ram it in towards the end. The audition panel want to see improvisers who listen attentively and contribute well to the whole.
11. Audition, then move on
You’ve done your job. Well done for putting yourself up for the show! Now, there is literally NOTHING you can do to affect the decision (don’t contact members of the panel after the fact to explain what you did and why, probably don’t ask for feedback unless it was offered or you closely know the panel member you’re asking).
Don’t beat yourself up about any choices you made. This stuff is hard and you can only play the scene in front of you - it’ll never exist again. Chalk it all to experience, reward yourself with a little cake or similar, then move on to the next thing.
Make your peace with the outcome before you find it out. Keep doing what you love, make your own gigs, contribute to your community of fellow nerds, audition again in future if you still want to.
Support the show when it happens. I know you’re sad you didn’t get on, but your friend/s probably did: they’re bricking it and could use your love. Improv is still young and niche enough that it needs the nerds to show up for it. A rising tide raises all ships. Your ship is out there too and kindness is repaid by the people in this community.
Shoutout to theatre-maker, actual genius and my fake-doctor colleague in St Doctor’s Hospital, Haley McGee for suggesting this topic. You can find out more about Haley’s superb solo work here.
The Free Association’s improvised medical drama St Doctor’s Hospital will be at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival from 2-28 August, 3.15pm at Assembly George Square. I’m performing 2-13 and 21-28 August.