Please fill out THIS audition form prior to your audition (you will get a redirect notice to click on the link).
The Audition will consist of three parts.
Your Introduction
Most of what you will say during this introduction will be a lie:
You will introduce yourself using your stage name. You want to be impressive to the director and you want to be cast in the show. So, choose a name that will get attention and be memorable. Then be ready to answer questions like:
What kinds of roles have you played in the past. Remember: You want a part. You are going to lie to get it. BE impressive.
What was your favorite role?
Where did you work last?
Are you new to The Sacred Sisters Polytechnic College for Young Women?
Your Physical Audition
You will perform a short (30-45 sec) scene without using any words
You may be handcuffed to a chair and asked to cross through a door without letting the audience know that you are attached to the chair.
You may be asked to interact with an empty box and make us believe that there is something amazing, terrifying, or extreme in the box.
Scenes
You will use monologues from big dramatic theater pieces. Everyone should try to make the performance as big and dramatic and powerful as possible. Impress the director with what a great dramatic actor you are. Each monologue must be done in Dialect. Irish, Upper Class English, Cockney, Russian, Southern American....The bigger and boulder and worse the better. The most important thing is that the actor is trying very hard to be very good. But the actor is not really very good. Somewhere in the middle of the monologue, the actor must forget their line. They must try to cover this as best they can without letting the audience know that they have forgotten their line. Eventually, they must call for line. They will be fed a line which is not from the script. They must use that line, and then find their way back to the speech as written.
Scarlett O'Hara from Gone with the Wind
“As God is my witness, as God is my witness they’re not going to lick me. I’m going to live through this and when it’s all over, I’ll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again.”
Meryl Streep, The Devil Wears Prada
"This 'stuff'? Oh, ok. I see, you think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet and you select out, oh I don’t know, that lumpy blue sweater, for instance, because you’re trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. But what you don’t know is that that sweater is not just blue, it’s not turquoise, it’s not lapis, it’s actually cerulean.
"You’re also blindly unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves St Laurent, wasn’t it, who showed cerulean military jackets? And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of eight different designers. Then it filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic 'casual corner' where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs and so it’s sort of comical how you think that you’ve made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact, you’re wearing the sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room. From a pile of 'stuff'.
Patton from Patton
Be seated. Now, I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country. Men, all this stuff you've heard about America not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war, is a lot of horse dung. Americans, traditionally, love to fight. All real Americans love the sting of battle.
When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big league ball players, the toughest boxers. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. Now, I wouldn't give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That's why Americans have never lost and will never lose a war. Because the very thought of losing is hateful to Americans.
MacBeth from MacBeth by Shakespeare
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
He Was A Boy: Blanche Debouis from A Streetcar Named Desire
He was a boy, just a boy, when I was a very young girl. When I was sixteen, I made the discovery–love. All at once and much, much too completely. It was like you suddenly turned a blinding light on something that had always been half in shadow, that’s how it struck the world for me. But I was unlucky. Deluded. There was something different about the boy, a nervousness, a softness and tenderness which wasn’t like a man’s, although he wasn’t the least bit effeminate looking–still–that thing was there…. He came to me for help. I didn’t know that. I didn’t find out anything till after our marriage when we’d run away and come back and all I knew was I’d failed him in some mysterious way and wasn’t able to give the help he needed but couldn’t speak of! He was in the quicksands and clutching at me–but I wasn’t holding him out, I was slipping in with him! I didn’t know that. I didn’t know anything except I loved him unendurably but without being able to help him or help myself. Then I found out. In the worst of all possible ways. By coming suddenly into a room that I thought was empty–which wasn’t empty, but had two people in it… the boy I had married and an older man who had been his friend for years….
[... ...]
I ran out–all did!–all ran and gathered about the terrible thing at the edge of the lake! I couldn’t get near for the crowding. Then somebody caught my arm. “Don’t go any closer! Come back! You don’t want to see!” See? See what! Then I heard voices say–Allan! Allan! The Grey boy! He’d stuck the revolver into his mouth, and fired–so that the back of his head had been–blown away!