Brown paper banners enticing students to “do tech” or “join the Harvard-Radcliffe Dramatic Club” made the Loeb Experimental Theater look more like a pre-homecoming dining hall than a black box theater last Friday night.

Despite the frenzied recruiting, many who were present Friday said the crowds were surprisingly small for the last day of Common Casting, the last chance actors and actresses have to bag roles in one of this spring’s 25 shows.

Those who audition are given a few pages from the script of the shows. Then they’re given a few minutes to rehearse before they strut their stuff in front of the director and show staff.

The actors and actresses who braved the snow last Friday seemed remarkably calm, each finding their own way to prepare.

“Everyone has their opinion as to the best technique for auditioning,” says actress Amanda M. Gann ’06. “I think I have it figured out.”

Getting Psyched

Gann, having already auditioned for four shows, has saved four more for tonight. But she says she doesn’t buy into the strategy of waiting until the last minute to remain fresh in a director’s mind—she had just been too busy all week.

“I had other things to do,” she says.

But that is not to say that acting is not a priority for Gann. A cast member of Pippin last fall, she spent a year of high school acting in France. She resorts to cheat-sheet-sized handwriting to squeeze her credentials in the allotted space on the actor’s information sheet.

“I should have photocopied this,” she says of the resume she will have to give to each director. But it’s been a tough week and she is forced to once again record her height, eye color and any “striking features”—for instance, a great French accent.

It is about 7 p.m. and Gann is waiting to be called to audition for two shows, HouseBreakHeart and The Dybbuk. She has placed her name on another Common Casting list—for Evening for Art—across the street at the Agassiz Theater and glances at her watch to see if she can get there before 9 p.m.

But if Gann is nervous, she doesn’t show it.

She keeps busy by silently practicing a monologue from HouseBreakHeart, which advertised itself in the Common Casting guide with the question “What is more threatening—falling bombs or falling in love?”

Her lips barely move as she reads over the lines. She makes a few seemingly random marks on the page, perhaps reminding herself where to breathe—just in case.

Gann seems to have done this many times before.

Soon her name is called by a young man quick to identify himself as “the producer.” She is led down windy stairs to a mirror-lined dance studio with three others actors, all making small talk. Her thoughts remain a mystery behind her too-eager smile.

Meet the Director

The director, Graham A. Sack ’03, introduces himself and wastes no time getting down to business.

“This a powerful performance about extreme suffering,” he says.

The play, The Dybbuk, is Sack’s version of the script by Julia Pascal. It is about five prisoners in a ghetto who perform a folk play to distract themselves from certain death. Sack says his rendition of the play will utilize “cutting edge ensemble staging techniques.”

And—like most Harvard directors at Common Casting—Sack wants more from those who audition than recitation of a monologue.

He tells the group to read over a passage and to chose four phrases from it to act out in vignettes.

Words are not necessary, he says, stripping his actors of the protection of dialogue.

“There are no rules,” he says. “Do anything you want to.”

Neither the license nor the vulnerability seems to shake Gann. As the director and producers leave the actors alone to brainstorm, she plops herself on the floor and begins to conspire.

“The first line is really powerful,” she says to her partner, who nods. And the two read on.

Within five minutes, they have identified the subjects of their soon-to-be vignettes and proceed to “choreograph” them. They spot a ladder and an inflated exercise ball. Soon the scene is complete, and the director returns to scrutinize the choices they have made.

Two actors perform their interpretations first, opting to lick the floor while reciting passages of the prose.

Gann and her partner gaze at the performers while no doubt more occupied with running their own actions through their minds.

“Interesting choices,” Graham says to the actors. Gann and her partner are up.

No one knows what passages they have chosen, yet all watch Gann as she slowly rolls the big green ball round her partner. In the next scene she climbs a ladder while her partner walks backwards across the room.

Soon the audition is over—and she hasn’t said a single word. But the silence is broken.

“Call-back lists go up tomorrow,” The Dybbuk staff say.

Audition, Take Two

When asked how she thought the audition went, Gann had a seemingly rehearsed response.

“If you can’t keep attention with the way you move, you will never be able to keep it with lines,” Gann said.

She offers no more evidence of her feelings as she returns to the Ex and engages in some theater gossip. “You should have tried out for that one. You would have been great.” Cell phones ring and Friday night plans are made as actors wait to be called for other shows.

“Calling for HouseBreakHeart,” a girl shouts. This time Gann follows her upstairs.

Director Joy B. Fairfield ’03 sits behind a table scattered with candy.

“I am not so interested in how well you can act,” she says. “Martha Graham said that we each have one specific creative force in the world. Show me yours.”

Gann portrays a Lolita-like character, beginning the monologue she had marked up earlier by seducing the wall, huddling on the floor and reaching towards thin air.

But apparently she has made an impression.

“Are you comfortable cross dressing?”

She says she is.

Although she doesn’t say so, she looks content at her audition, hopping down the stairs. But her work is far from done.

Tying It Up

She runs across the street just in time for the last call for Evening for Arts, a show that will combine scenes from the musical Chicago with a panel discussion on the arts for Boston school children.

Gann seems excited for the chance to show off a little song and dance. Her mood is remarkably lighter.

Upon entering the bare Agassiz Theater, she throws off her hiking boots, exposing a wild pair of green socks.

“They go up to my knee,” she says to the vocal director.

While deciding whether to wear her hair up or down, she manages to master the sequence of steps to the number “All that Jazz” and performs them without a mistake.

When asked to sing, she pauses for about 30 seconds and decides on an a cappella rendition of “Spread a Little Sunshine” from Pippin. She clearly knows it well, pacing up and down the stage and gesticulating naturally.

“This is tough,” the vocal director says. “Casting is like being in a candy store. You have to choose what you don’t want.”

Gann still has another round of auditions—the 9 p.m. to midnight time slot—this time for the mainstage musical Chess. She will spend the next two days attending hours of callbacks for Kiss Me Kate, Chess, Evening for Art and the first-year musical.

But she won’t say which roles she really wants. After all, a good actress never gives away her secrets.

Last Tuesday, the cast lists were posted in the Loeb and Gann found herself in Chess, Kiss Me Kate, the first-year musical and Evening for Art. But she seems neither surprised nor proud.

“You can’t take yourself too seriously or they won’t,” she says.

—Staff writer Jessica E. Vascellaro can be reached at vascell@fas.harvard.edu.