The Secret to Successful Auditions

Q.  How difficult is it to get cast in a show?  

A.  VERY.  

 

Since my partner Will and I started making pantomime 5 years ago, we have been fortunate to develop some fabulous relationships with a whole bunch of incredibly talented actors.  The success of our projects we owe to the hard work and good grace of the people around us who have believed in us and put their shoulder to the wheel.  The Big Tiny is as much a family as a company, and the knock on effect of this is that in any given year, we are often in the fortunate position of having only a handful of parts to cast. 

I can only imagine how difficult it must be for the larger commercial producers to cast their shows.  Bigger shows with bigger budgets can offer actors more money than we do and perhaps even a gig that is closer to home (which must surely seem appealing around Christmas time).  However, I can only speak from my own experience, and even when we cast our provincial shows, we are inundated with applications.  

This Christmas, we are producing a number of shows, including two pantomimes in provincial venues (under 300 seats).  At the start of May, we put out 7 casting calls and by the deadline (6 days later) we had received 1504 submissions.

Going through so many submissions can feel overwhelming, and timescales are tight.  Even though we try to look at submissions as they come in, invariably we have a flurry of late nights watching showreels and emailing agents.

 

Even for our relatively small scale shows, the barrier to getting an audition is very high.  We publish the breakdowns on Spotlight, which means (in theory) you have to be a professional actor with an agent just to be submitted.  This is the start of the casting process - from here you're in the lap of the gods.

BAD CASTING

There are two competing approaches when it comes to casting, by far the worst of which is to try and see as many people in the room as possible.   You can immediately tell if you turn up to one of these auditions.  You sit, usually on a hard plastic chair in a corridor, cheek by jowl alongside other actors your age, your casting, who you keep bumping into outside other auditions.   Time in front of the decision makers is rushed.  If you haven’t impressed them by bar 16 of your song, the director raises a hand: “thank you”… which is only slightly less crushing than “NEXT!”  There may be a group stage at which people who sparkle less are culled and packed off home while the favourites are slowly whittled down.  Auditions for very big shows may have recalls (though this is less common for panto than other musicals).  I BLOODY HATE THOSE AUDITIONS.

"It is immoral to call too many people to an audition."

Jesus of Nazareth (or possibly Buddha?)

BECAUSE...

1)    For a start, it’s really bloody expensive being an actor.  You can’t have a well paying job, because those jobs don’t let you go to auditions.  No-one pays you for going to audition and you definitely don’t have savings, because either you live in London and you spend every penny on rent, or you live outside and bankrupt yourself on train fares getting to auditions.

2)    Preparing for an audition is hard.  You learn the sides, even if they say you don’t have to – because maybe that gives you an edge, or maybe because everyone else will and you don’t want to be disadvantaged.  You stay up late to read through the production company’s website just to check they’re not jokers, and try to think of a good question to ask at the end. 

3)    Auditioning is really high stakes.  If you’ve trained to be an actor, you want to act.  It’s difficult to get a part, and the prospect of getting cast – of people choosing you – is super exciting, and a prize worth having.  Conservatoire training does it’s best to toughen you up, but ineveitably rejection hurts.  And multiple rejections time after time have the ability to take the wind out of the sails of even the thickest-skinned thespian.  

 

The point is… if you go to an audition, you should expect there’s a reasonable chance of you actually getting the job.  So the question is, what’s reasonable?  1 in 20, 1 in a 100, 1 in 1000?

 

We call around 10-15 people for each part.  I think that’s reasonable.  If you come to audition for us, there’s a 1 in 15 chance that you’re going to end up with the part.  At least that’s a fighting chance.

 

Everyone deserves a fighting chance

DOING SOMETHING BETTER

 

There is a fundamental power imbalance in the audition room.  There is no way around this fact.  It is a natural consequence of the considerable numerical mismatch between the number of available parts and performers.  

 

The producer, with paid work in their gift, sits in a position of great power; but exacerbating this dynamic is hugely counterproductive.  If you want to find out where an actor can lead you, you must let them sit in the driving seat.  

 

A good audition puts the actor in the driving seat

A more effective audition process is good for the producers as well as the actors.  It is incumbent upon the producer to take reasonable steps so the audition can be a success.

Here are my top tips for running a better audition room:

 

·       Allocate enough time.

We give everyone a 15 minute slot (20 mins if they’re reading for Dame, or more than one role).  This gives us time to chat through the actors CV with them, hear the sides, redirect the sides, hear a song from beginning to end (with the option of hearing some part of a second), and give them an opportunity to ask about us.

 

It's not just polite – it’s good business.  The audition room is an unhelpfully artificial construct which very poorly mirrors the working environment of the rehearsal room.  You’re hoping to find someone to develop a mutually edifying working relationship with.  How can you possibly hope to do that in 2 minutes?  It would be like proposing during a speed date.  We have met some fantastically talented people through this process, discovered some hidden talents which we have incorporated into the shows and made contacts that we’ve followed up later when the perfect part comes along.

 

·       Provide reasonable alternatives

 

Not everyone lives in London… but a lot of actors do.  We hold auditions in two locations – Manchester and London.  This hopefully means we’re not asking people to trek the length and breadth of the land just to get to us.  By making your audition process more geographically accessible, you also increase the number of people who can submit, as well as minimising the chances of them turning down the slot or failing to attend.

 

·       Communicate clearly

 

Explain the process clearly, in good time, so the actor gets a chance to prepare.  Send the sides out a week in advance – pick/write something with emotional depth and not too many lines.  (If I think that it’s helpful, I add in any useful stage directions to give the actor some hints about where I imagine the character going.)  I understand some people can be anxious about disseminating copyrighted material, but if you’re scripting is character-led and tightly constructed, it won’t be easily shoe-horned into anyone else’s show (and it’ll be pretty blinking obvious if it is).  At the end of the day, if you’re hoping to get the best out of your auditionees, you’ve got to give them the tools to succeed.

      ·       Prepare the space.

I wish I could say these are my tips, but I robbed them off someone at RADA - I wish I could remember who gave them to me, because they are great.  Employ them and live off the fruits of your labour.

 

Buy bottles of water and put them outside for the actors.  Not only will it win you brownie points both with the actors and with the wider industry, it helps you to get the best out of the audition.  If someone is coming in nervous, dry mouth, distracted - you're not going to get to see what they can do.  

 

Zoom in to see Brownie Points Thriving in their Natural Habitat

 

Signpost your location boldly and at frequent intervals (pin up some posters/print out some big A4 sheets with your logo).  You want people coming in feeling relaxed, not stressed out by getting lost and behind time.  

 

Print out any relevant information and make it available where people are waiting.  Yes, this means spare copies of the sides: inevitably one or two people will turn up amidst a disaster - their printer broke down, they left it behind on the tube.  Unless the auditions a memory test, it's best to provide as much as you can as often as you can.  It's all belt and braces, but in return for the safety net it provides, all of the print costs are negligible.  In the past we have provided some information sheets explaining core parts of our practice: how the rehearsals work, what the accommodation offer is, etc. - admittedly, this demands actual legwork, but all our feedback was very effusive.  Consider this: anyone who is prepared to travel in to audition for you,is going to be eager to learn more about you and your company.  There's also the chance that providing more clarity helps avoid bumpy roads down the line - one year we had a chap politely withdraw from audition after discovering he had a date clash by reading the waiting room literature (it's potentially worth it's weight in gold... imagine if we had ended up casting him, only to find out three months down the line he wasn't completely available!)

·       Do your homework.

 

Thorough prep means reading CVs in advance, watch the showreel on Spotlight, thinking carefully about who you’re meeting and prepare interesting questions to ask them about previous work.  You have chosen to ask this person to meet you: surely you know the reason why!

 

Remember: the only chance you get to learn all about them is when they’re in front of you.  The great thing about doing all your thinking in advance is that you can spend more time actually listening.  

 

 

 

Pray, silence please for the BIG secret...
Photo by Rochelle Hartman under CC 2.0

 

BONUS MATERIAL (for actors’ eyes only)

 

The flip side of having long auditions slots is inevitably seeing fewer people.  Over 6 days of auditions we see around 100 people, which, if you start with 1500 gives you an awful lot of whittling down to do.

 

"How do you do it?"  

Thoughtfully.  But also efficiently.  

"No really... how do you do it?"

Oh, alright.  I'll tell you!

ROLL UP, ROLL UP!  READ ALL ABAHT IT!  

 

1. Where did you train?  

Established conservatoires (Arts Ed, GSA, RADA, Mountview and the like) with excellent reputations are inundated every year with applications – which means they get to be super fussy about them.  Even very talented candidates may spend several years auditioning before securing a place. 

It's worth emphasising: not every great actor goes to a conservatoire, but lots of them do, and having the name on your CV is a bit like pre-vetting, which, if you’re looking at lots of submissions gives you a good place to start.  In economics they call it a sorting function (and if you still haven’t read Freakonomics, order it immediately)

 

Additionally we do keep an eye out for a few less well known schools that apparently have some excellent teachers, because the kids they’re turning out are bright, connected and very well skilled.  I could tell you the names, but then I’m afraid I would have to kill you.  Let’s just say: none of them start with an X.

 

TOP TIP – If you are at the start of your career, apply for the best places you can get into.  Don’t be afraid to take a year out and reapply.  Acting can be an incredibly tough career path: you can maximise your chances of success by getting the best possible start.

 

2. What are your credits?  

Have you done any panto before?  With whom?  Was it one of the good ones?  Have you worked with someone we know?  Have you done any long runs?  How would you do  working with text? 

 

Panto rehearsals are typically quick and intense: producers are hunting for people who can pick up harmonies, dance steps and physical routines quickly.  Can you show evidence of these skills?  Get your agent to highlight any relevant previous experience in the comment box. 

 

TOP TIP – Declutter your CV.  Training credits are great for a new grad, but are they really that relevant if you trained a decade ago?  Worst of all are credits dressed-up to seem more important than they really are.  You may well have played Sandra D in a 2013 production of Grease, but you’ll only be embarrassed if have to explain that “SAGS Productions” stands for St Alban’s Girls School.  Remember, you don’t need a hundred credits, you only need a good one. 

 

St Alban's Girls School (*and not a production company)
photo by Ian Capper used under CC 2.0

3. Do you suit the role?

 

It sounds pretty obvious, but if you don’t look anything like the character, you’re a pretty easy whittle.  

 

Read the breakdown.  It’s designed to help you work out if you’re what the producer is looking for.  You may have always dreamed of playing the Little Mermaid, but if you’re 6’5” with a long beard and a barrel-chest you’re not going to fit the costume. 

On second thoughts.  Maybe this would be awesome?!

Make sure your CV is an honest appraisal of your skill set.  If a director is looking for someone with a Mancunian accent and you claim to be “highly skilled”, you better be able to pass as a native or you’ll be immediately rumbled.  I remember how mortified one poor boy was, having claimed “fluent German,” confessing he got a B at GCSE when I tried to converse auf Deutsch.  

Oh, and a personal bugbear of mine - if you don’t look like your headshot any more, that’s OK, but you should definitely get a new one.  It is a fact of life: time marches on and nobody looks the same forever.  You probably do get more auditions by using that smouldering headshot from 2016; and 2016-you may well be exactly the person the producer is looking for, but that’s not going to do you a ha’peth of good when present-day-you turns up to audition. It’s simply a waste of everyone’s time.

 

TOP TIP – Have a variety of headshots that suit different castings.  If you want to play comic, have one that looks funny.  On Spotlight, you can choose which one comes up first when you submit.  If you do nothing else, add at least one photo in which you are smiling!  

 

 

4. What is your showreel like?

You remember your showreel.  The one that you afforded by splitting the cost with a friend.  The friend that does the long monologue at the start, while you do reaction shots. You remember how artistic it is: those long, slow pans; the edgy brooding silences; the atmosphere.  You remember how perfect it is for a film director?  

 

Well, it isn’t a film director watching it, it’s me.

 

I’m sorry if this comes as a shock to everyone, but if you’re going to act professionally, you’re probably going to do panto.  

 

Have some variety!  

 

Too often, showreels are back to back gritty scenes about drug use and bad break-ups. I’m sure that it’s great if you’re the casting director for Doctors, but it can make it tricky to gauge how good the actor would be in a family friendly musical.  

 

With the best will in the world, a producer dealing with 1500 submissions won’t have the time to watch everyone’s 6 minute showreel.  They’re watching exactly enough to go “yep, they’re worth seeing,” or else “I can’t tell.  I’ll put them in the maybe pile.”

 

TOP TIP – Have different showreels for different jobs, and label them clearly.  We love it when we see a showreel titled: “comedy” or “panto” because it tells us exactly what to look at.  If your reel is entirely slow, moody scenes, give the creative team a heads up: label it “TV and film reel”.

 

Panto isn't for kids, you 'nana!

The Biggest Lie in Pantomime

If there's one prevalent myth that needs busting, it's that pantomimes are for kids.

They aren't.

At least, our pantos aren't.  

Of course, there are producers who make pantos for kids.  That's why their pantos are crap. 

Ours are much better than that... our pantomimes are family entertainment.

This is a point I often have to iterate when I come across panto-refuseniks and try to persuade them to come along.

"I don't have any kids to bring with me," they say - as though that's a reasonable excuse not to snap up a ticket.

"You don't need to bring any kids," I explain.  "Family entertainment just means it's suitable for families.  It's really great fun for grown ups too."

This message seems to have permeated our local audience (in Saddleworth, 70% of our tickets for public performances are sold to groups without children).

Of course, we make the shows with kids in mind.  It's kinda pantomime's schtick.  But the honest truth is: children are not a particularly discerning audience.

Kids Being Easily Entertained
Photo by Dionehinchliff, CC by SA-2.0

I'm not saying kids don't know what they like - they obviously do.  Kids like bold characters, funny jokes, bright colours, slapstick, gunge - a good pantomime uses all of these elements.  However (and I'm sorry if this comes as a surprise to you) there are a lot of downright awful pantomimes out there, and most of them have all these elements too.

That's not to say that kids will like any old tosh.  It is certainly possible to make a show that kids don't like - I've seen a fair few pantos that fall into that category (OMG, you are really in trouble if you make a panto and even the kids don't like it!)

But the problem with making shows 'for kids' is that it demands you meet only the lowest of standards.  

Who cares that the Uglies were wearing old rags, did you hear all the kids shouting 'boo' when they tore up the invite?  

Who cares that the plot didn't make any sense, did you hear all the kids sing along to Baby Shark? 

Who cares that Wishee-Washee has no discernible character arc, did you hear how loud the kids shouted "Watcha Wishee!" when he came on?

Kids don't care.

Who cares?
Photo by radarsmum67; CC by 2.0

Does anyone care?

Adults care.  At least they should.  Up and down the country, adults attend truly terrible pantos for all kinds of spurious reasons ranging from guilt to tradition. 

By contrast: good pantos are enjoyed by everyone: kids and adults alike.

Not only is it good art, it's good business.

Remember, adults buy tickets, children do not.  The big panto in town might be 'good for kids', but if mum and dad love the panto down the road, then down the road is where they'll be heading.

Also - not every family has young children.  If your business model relies on pester-power to get bums on seats, you've excluded a large potential customer base.  Furthermore, even families who have young kids, don't have young kids forever - kids grow up, and once they do, shows 'made for kids' lose all of their pulling power.

Demographic shift is coming.  Families are getting smaller; audiences are getting older - and these trends are only becoming more pronounced.  Even if pantomime's were supposed to be shows for kids (which they aren't, but hey ho...) the relative customer base is declining, which is why the smart money's on companies who can diversify what they're offering to meet the evolving requirements of the market share they've established.

The UK's Aging Population

How to tell if your panto is crap

So you've put on a panto.  You've sold a few tickets, some programmes, the odd flashing sword and a fairy's wand or two.  You saunter round the bar at the interval... everybody seems happy enough.  But then again, you remember, it's Christmas - people are always happy at Christmas.  Maybe they're just glad they're off work tomorrow.   Doubts creep in.  

You decide to get some quick audience feedback.  You smile and approach a young mum.  "Are you having a nice time?" you ask.

She smiles and replies - maybe not quite as effusively as you would have liked.  Of course, you were probably hoping for something quite clear and direct, such as: "OMG, WOW!" or perhaps "Watching Act 1 of this play has been a key, seminal moment in my life."  So now you're left trying to pick through her words to parse what she really feels.

Here's a handy quick guide to help you translate:

WHAT THEY SAY: "It's really great.'

WHAT THEY MEAN: "Well done. You've made a good panto."

WHAT THEY SAY: “The kids are loving it.” 

WHAT THEY MEAN: “The panto is crap, but the kids are too young to realise.” 

WHAT THEY SAY: “My eldest's a bit old for panto.” 

WHAT THEY MEAN: “A 12 year old can see that the panto is crap.” 

 

WHAT THEY SAY: “I just like watching the kids enjoying themselves” 

WHAT THEY MEAN: “The panto is so crap, I would literally rather watch other members of the audience than the performance’."

 

WHAT THEY SAY: “There were loads of kids in the audience” 

WHAT THEY MEAN: “The panto is so crap, local people now take it in turns to chaperone each other’s kids so they can have a year off.” 

 

WHAT THEY SAY: “My favourite bit was where you got the kids up on stage."

WHAT THEY MEAN: ”The pantowas crap, but you saved it with a good song sheet."

Doing something better

The first step towards recovery is admitting you have a problem.  

Don't panic.  You're not alone!  Trust me, I see dozens of pantos every year - loads of pantos are crap.  The good news is, they don't have to be.  Despite what you may been led to believe, it is not beyond the wit of man to write a show that simultaneously contains enough slapstick, gunge and puns to entertain a child, whilst also including enough character comedy, tension and jeopardy to entertain an adult.

How?

That's a trade secret, one that I share only with the few select people who actually read my blog... 

... get ready...

... here it comes... 

... the trick is...

...

... instead of regurgitating any old nonsense, write something genuinely entertaining.  And by that I mean: entertaining for an actual, discerning grown-up.  

I know what I'm about to say might seem totally crazy, but trust me, it totally works.  If you write something so funny it makes grown-ups laugh, kids will laugh at it too!  I know right?  Who knew!  

And it's not just for jokes either - if you write something that's genuinely moving - in the sense that it engenders pathos in an actual, discerning adult, the very same scene will move the kids too!  

Ditto for tension.  

Ditto for catharsis.  

Ditto for dramatic irony.  

IN FACT, it turns out that to make a good kids show, all that you really need to do is make a good show and then let the kids watch it!  

So now you know.  Remember: mum's the word!  It's a trade secret.  Don't spread it around, or everyone will start making good pantos, and we wouldn't want any of that!

Mum's the Word
Photo by Simon_music; CC by 2.0

Is it Snow White if it Doesn't Have Dwarfs?

It’s official – you can’t be a dwarf bullfighter in Spain! 

I’m sorry to have to break the news to you like this, but if you are a little person with dreams of being a Toreador in Madrid, you’re too late! Your luck is well and truly out. 

What bullfighters see running towards them...

As reported last week in the Guardian here, enjoying a little person fighting a bull is discrimination according to Spain’s Royal Board on Disabilities (NB in the UK, dwarfism is not considered a disability under the 2010 Disabilities Act unless it has a ‘substantial’ and ‘long-term’ negative effect on your ability to do normal daily activities). 

The intention is surely well meaning. Little people frequently report incidents in which they feel threatened, othered or lampooned simply because of their physical differences.

In a comment about the unacceptability of the word ‘midget’ in reference to little people, Warwick Davis (Patron, Little People UK) reminds us that: 

“many little people have suffered bullying and ridicule in their lives which causes them to lose confidence and they can become isolated.” 

                                                                                                                               www.littlepeopleuk.org

This is exactly the kind of ridicule that the Spanish government is seeking to stamp out with the moratorium on little people in bullfights. Surely nobody could disagree with that? Well, some people do: the bullfighters who just lost their jobs. 

The Guardian article goes to quote dwarf bullfighter, Daniel Calderón:

“They take it for granted that people are being denigrated or laughed at, and it’s the opposite: the respect they have for us is impressive.” 

Of course it’s impressive. I couldn’t do it. Could you? 

The athleticism, prowess and performance skills of these bullfighters draws crowds. Crowds that pay money. Money that goes to the bullfighters.

One may well ponder: if the performers are happy performing, and the audience happy to watch them their performance, who it is exactly that's getting offended by the thought of bullfighters with dwarfism.

Nobody actually watching it. No-one who's actually there.

Logically, via a process of elimination, we're left with the awkward conclusion: the only people getting offended are people who aren't there to see it. Peculiar grounds for a ban!

If the drifting of social mores makes their performances distasteful to modern audiences, then let the market close the show. If the performers feel like they are disrespected or otherised then let them quit. Given the existence of multiple other avenues by which those against the practice may be satisfied, one might perceive legislation as an unnecessarily blunt tool. 

Similar (presumably well intentioned) qualms are already having impacts on pantomime. 

 

The panto that must not be named

Panto Poster, Belfast
© Albert Bridge, Licensed under Creative Commons

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs remains a popular panto title (you can see productions this year in theatres from Bournemouth to Manchester), but mark my words, the title is firmly within the sights of the censors.  

Move over Mystic Meg, here is my prediction: if we don’t do something, once Aladdin falls, Snow White will be next. 

In some circles, even the title proves contentious. Those wary of causing offence with the word ‘dwarf’ may seek to circumvent accusations of discrimination by bowdlerising the title (e.g. Snow White and the Magnificent Seven, Hastings 2021). This is at their peril – appropriate use of the word dwarf is contested space. While there are some voices in the little person community who seek to distance themselves from the word, others are proud of being dwarf performers, and feel that the omission of the word is akin to erasing their identity. 

Producers wishing to sidestep this ethical minefield commonly omit the word from the title (e.g. Kilmarnock and Kings Lynn 2022), but under pressure from some lobbies may withdraw the title altogether. 

I, for one, can personally guarantee that as long as I produce the Saddleworth and Bury pantomimes, I will never produce Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs!!! Of course not! I could never afford it! 

Not only does having eight titular characters increase the cast size beyond reason for a 250+ venue, performers who are little people are in high demand at Christmas, commanding excellent fees in return for their skills. 

And why not? As every performer filling out their Spotlight profile will tell you: sell what you’ve got to sell. If you can juggle fire, put it in your bio – heck, even if you think you could learn to juggle fire between the audition and rehearsals, it’s probably worth jotting down. If you are a little person, and there’s a part for a little person, you may well think “I'll get my agent onto that!” and who could blame anyone for cashing in. 

The Cast of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
at the Stevenage Christmas Lights Switch-on 2010
photo by Peter O'Connor aka anemoneprojectors

Again, we must acknowledge the multiplicity of opinions held by people with dwarfism, a truth which Eugene Grant expertly illustrates in this article in which he explains his reasons for eschewing panto castings to another actor with dwarfism from the other side of the debate. 

However, as with all of these debates, surely the argument for personal liberty conquers all. If you want the part, take it. If you don’t, don’t. 

Of course, I can understand that as an artist, the idea of playing the same comedic role each year might become somewhat tedious, and there is certainly room for the industry to respond to this.

Doing Something Better

No matter where you stand on the role of actors with dwarfism in pantomime, we can surely all agree that the industry has room for improvement. But what practical steps can producers take to improve their practice? Here are five suggestions:

1.     Audition actors on their skills, not their size  

 

I have heard tell of producers selecting performers purely on the basis of their dwarfism, as opposed to their skill as a performer. Not only is this dehumanising, it massively sells the production short. How can you possibly utilise your performers to their full potential if you don’t know what they can do? If Andy Ford didn’t know that Ben Goffe had impeccable timing and incredible rapport with the audience, then we would never have had the infamous sword scene from Dick Whittington (and the world would be a poorer place). 

2.     Ring-fence opportunities  

If you are producing Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, employ little people, not kids wearing foam Disney heads. Not only are the kids inevitably rubbish, (sorry, kids-in-foam-heads... it’s true!), but doing so takes away one of the reliable casting opportunities away from performers who may otherwise face significant challenges in landing conventional roles.  

3.     Cast broadly

Be open minded with your breakdowns and casting. Seek to provide opportunities for talented performers with dwarfism in roles other than 'dwarf'. Talented performers deserve challenging and complex roles. Let’s see some little people as heroes, princesses, dames, and villains! When you release your castings, use explicitly inclusive language to signal the suitability of roles for the broadest range of applicants.  

4.     Listen to your actors

Include performers in the discussion about how they are portrayed on stage. Remember: there are a multiplicity of opinions amongst actors from the little people community. Ask your performers: what do they think? How can you respond? 

5.     Consider access 

There are over 400 types of dwarfism and performers with dwarfism may have varying access requirements to participate optimally in rehearsals and performance. Communication is key. Remember: it is always incumbent upon the producer to be proactive in understanding the access requirements of everyone they employ, whether that is on stage or off. 

 

Case study: My Ethical Quandary 

Rumpelstiltskin © The Big Tiny
Market Drayton/Saddleworth 2023

I have now completed written edit 7 of Rumpelstiltskin for 2023 production.  

My plot explores the role of the outcast. I don’t want to give too much away, but the otherisation of the eponymous Rumpelstiltskin, and the resolution of his character arc is a critical component of the narrative structure. The role is complex, three dimensional and delicious and is a gift to the right actor. 

Now, I’m pleased to say we’ve always had a policy of casting the best performers we can find (that’s for any role, irrespective of height). We take great pains to use inclusive language in our breakdowns to encourage diversity of applications. However, thinking specifically about Rumpelstiltskin, I have considered the implications of casting a character actor with dwarfism. Such a casting would certainly highlight the themes of otherisation, but would it be too on the nose? 

In her amazingly thought-provoking book ‘Disfigured’ Amanda Leduc analyses portrayals of disability in fairy tales. She points out that not only is disability/difference often associated with villainy. Villains are often defined, even named, by their disability (e.g. Scar in the Lion King, Captain Hook in Peter Pan). It’s an unfortunate trope that once someone points it out to you, you start to see everywhere.

A Stonkingly Good Read
available here

The brilliance of her writing lies in her use of anecdote and personal experience to illustrate how harmful stereotypes can end up otherising the very people they should be edifying: 

“There is the story of Irené Colthurst, who like me has cerebral palsy and as a young girl watched Cinderella put her foot into a glass slipper.  Irené got her shoes from Nordstrom, the only store that allowed you to mix and match shoes of the same style but different sizes.  ‘Some of the most unpleasant memories I have,’ she tells me, 'are of sitting in the shoe department… the shoes rubbed so much that they could and often did rub sores in my feet.  Sometimes to the point of bleeding. 

But Cinderella, Irené notes, never had any trouble like this.  ‘Nobody else fits the dainty-foot shoe, and this is how easily she slips back into it? Voila, happily ever after?’  

                                                                                                                    Disfigured; Leduc, A. p 89-90 

It provides food for thought. I certainly don’t want to perpetuate harmful stereotypes, or reinforce feelings of otherness in my cast, crew or audience.  

 

Philosophically, I’m still drawn to the argument for personal liberty.  Like the bullfighters in Spain, I firmly believe we should respect the choices of the performers. If a great character actor with dwarfism comes to the auditions, I’d have no qualms at all in offering them Rumpelstiltskin.  

 

Of course, I have the advantage of having written the script, so I’m pretty confident that even if the part were played by a little person, our production would elegantly finesse concerns of otherisation.  However short of attaching a script to the casting breakdown, I have no way of effectively communicating this confidence on Spotlight. And whilst, I’m sure there are a range of opinions on casting a little person as the villain, I am very aware of the optics around a “Panto Seeks Little Person for Role of Rumpelstiltskin” headline. 

With such a thorny issue - what should I do? What I always do when I think about casting: chat everything through with the best agent in town. (No kidding, producers. HUGE plug - Yvonne Ianson at I&K Talent is a dream to work with: straight up and down, very responsive, and has a raft of fantastic actors on her books. You're welcome.) Unfortunately, Yvonne doesn’t currently represent any little-person character actors with excellent singing voices, and yearnings to play a panto villain in rural Yorkshire... though she’s managed to proffer some promising leads!

In the end, I erred on the side of caution. When we published our castings this morning, none of the breakdowns explicitly encouraged applications from character actors with dwarfism. 

(But if you do know of any, send them the link to this blog.)