Demystifying Casting

When you go see a play, do you ever wonder how what you're seeing came to be? How much is the result of the director’s work, or the actors, or the script itself? Theater is such a collaborative art form that often it is hard to untangle why something you saw worked or didn’t work, and who is responsible for every piece of the puzzle.

I thought it might be interesting to write some thoughts about what a theater director's job actually is and how the process of making a play works.

Today we'll look at the art of Casting. In future posts, I'll tackle Directorial Approach, The Design Team, The Rehearsal Room and Tech Week.

CASTING

It’s true that something like 80% of a director’s job is casting. If you get that right, the rest of your job is much easier. When you are casting a role, you are looking for an actor who shares some essential quality with the character you are looking to cast. It goes without saying you want a very skilled actor, but the next most important thing are their ineffable qualities, the essence of a person that cannot be manufactured. If you are casting Stanley in A Streetcar Named Desire, for example, you probably need a person with animal magnetism, an earthy sexuality and a great deal of buried intensity. Still, there are interesting ways to interpret these qualities and there might be a wide range of possible Stanleys that could work in all sorts of interesting ways.

Recently, in casting the character of Edith Wharton I knew I needed an actress who could be believably upper class, formidable and intelligent. They would need to know how to wield power as well as to access their sensuality. I thought Chris Caswell had those qualities. She would not need to ‘act’ to create them. They were already there.
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Good actors can transform themselves to some extent, and in the case of a great character actor, sometimes even a great deal. But all people carry an essence that is hard to shake and hard to identify. Think of the huge variety of characters Robert DeNiro has played; yet still, you always know it’s Robert. Each person is a particular being, a unique flavor of a person, if you will. And getting the right flavor for the cake you are baking (the play) is essential. 

It’s also true that theater is a visual art form. Certain characters must sometimes look a certain way. In The Beauty Queen of Leenane the central character must be heavy, because that is a requirement of the story. In Legally Blonde, the protagonist must obviously be a blonde, and she probably should be an attractive blonde. But just what does that mean? People are attractive in all sorts of ways, and the director must decide what kind of attractiveness will work for the story they want to tell. Often, a great actor who is not conventionally beautiful can project the attractiveness you need, and I would take a brilliant actor over one who merely looks right every time.

When casting, you also want actors who work well with other actors. You prefer good listeners over egotists. You prefer ensemble players over selfish ones. You prefer collaborators over control freaks. And you value a strong work ethic over one who likes to fly by the seat of their pants.

Probably the most important quality in an actor for me is spontaneity and flexibility. The liveliness that allows the actor the freedom to stay present with their partners on stage, never allowing their work to be a mere repetition of the night before, but continually changing, flowing and adapting to what is happening in the moment. No two performances can ever be exactly the same. The director, together with the actors, has set up the structure of the scene, and all the touch-points and moments are crafted carefully. But they must still be alive and breathing each time the show is performed.