Dancers and Auditions | This Dancing Life

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Dancers move. Dancers in major companies might settle for a while. Many others, though, work short contracts in television, film, pantomime, variety. They become stage gypsies, going wherever the next job takes them. Sounds unsettling, but not many dancers would trade the passion of their adventure for predictable nine-to-five security.

“The only way to do it is to do it” — Merce Cunningham

How do they find work? The answer is — auditions. Big companies usually audition in the spring for autumn contracts. Check company websites, social media, dance magazines, the notice-boards in studio centres, get dates and details, make contact asap. There’ll be a deadline; include a covering letter and documentation with your application. Fax, email or send it by registered post. If you don’t hear something soon, telephone to check whether your application has arrived (it probably will have). Keep all correspondence.

“Auditions are very strange – you’re there to win, to seek approval. They never get easier, but I did realise that you’re there voluntarily, after all”. — Darren Boyd

Travel’s expensive. You could try for neighbouring companies on the same trip (not on the same day, please) but when two jobs you fancy have simultaneous auditions, you have to choose. Fortunately, some companies audition while touring, possibly near you, and some even hold big joint auditions in specially organised “cattle-market” sessions. (Some accept video auditions — check what they want to see).

Or you could ask to do class with them. This doesn’t always work (some companies won’t play) but there are advantages for them – they may not want to hold major auditions, and they might like your initiative. Also, the Director can concentrate on you, rather than others, so this option’s always worth exploring.

If you’re invited somewhere, organise your schedule and give yourself enough recovery time before auditioning. Do your homework – about the company, repertoire, director, choreographers, the season. Are there videos? Do you like them? Who are their soloists? What’s it like there? What’s the political situation? Is it dangerous? Do they work in a safe part of town? Will you need a visa? (If so, get one asap – they take time).

Could you get work and residence permits? (If not, skip it). Do they tour? Where, and for how long? What’s the standard of living? How long is the contract? What do they pay? Can you live on that? Is there a performers’ union? How long is their working week? What about medical cover? Paid holidays? Help with relocation costs? Do they provide classes? (Yes, there really are companies where dancers must sort out their own training). Could you get home in your holidays?

Lots of questions, but this job might last for years, so find out if you could be happy there. Don’t accept any old contract, be fully informed before you start. If you’re worried or suspicious, don’t go.

If you do go, stay alert. Unfamiliar places are exciting but dangerous. Maybe traffic is different – don’t step blithely off the pavement without looking. People on scooters may be eyeing your bag – keep it under your coat. Don’t leave your passport anywhere, ever. Your travel tickets, credit cards, money need to be with you, and safe. (If they use a different currency, get some before you leave home). Don’t wander at night in unfamiliar places, lock your hotel room door from the inside. It sounds obvious, but one can easily get distracted by new impressions.

Let’s fast forward a bit. You went there, you’re home again, and somehow none of those jobs worked out. You got offers, but only from remote, unattractive places, which weren’t for you. What now? Try other options, possibly jobs you’ve never imagined doing. These could be panto, cabaret, circus, cruise ships and more. No ballerina rôles, but you do get paid to dance. Somewhere, there’ll be open auditions — why not check them out?

“With all the auditions you do, there is a lot of rejection you have to take as well. You get used to that”.
— Olivia DeJonge

How about musicals? (This is why dance students need voice training). A successful musical gives handsomely-paid job security for years. The down side is doing the same show every night (twice on matinée days) with maximal precision and energy, every performance. There’ll be regular rehearsals — you’ll be working very hard all week, as well as understudying someone else.

Musical auditions are advertised in the trade press, online and in dance centres. Time is crucial — application deadlines typically fall within very few days. Some auditions are open, but many are restricted to union members, so telephone Equity or whichever union it may be, and ask how you qualify for membership. Some auditions allow non-union candidates, conditional on their joining the union once contracts are signed. Be clear on this. Don’t try to audition unless you’re entitled to — you won’t be allowed in.

“Because I was a dancer, I started going to auditions for musical theater, which forced me to sing”. — Madonna Ciccone

On the day, arrive in good time, well-rested, with everything you’ll need. If it’s in a theatre, find the stage door and ask the porter. For big auditions there may not be dressing space, so consider arriving already dressed, practice gear under your street clothes. Otherwise, change in a toilet. Leave nothing behind; bring your clothes with you in your bag. Stuff disappears fast — unless you want to go home in your dance kit, keep your gear safe.

“When you go to meetings or auditions and you fail to prepare, prepare to fail. It is simple but true”. — Paula Abdul

Find a space, warm up, keep warm. Drink enough water (keep it safe, fastened and out of sight). Someone will take your name and details; you might also be given a number to wear. Put your bag somewhere out of everyone’s way, but where you can see it. Never leave it near entrances or exits; it will get moved and possibly lost.

Concentrate. Theatres are dangerous — things happen fast. Some areas may be dazzlingly bright, others impenetrably dark. Watch for obstacles at floor level or head height. Stay away from the orchestra pit, keep your eyes open and listen for your name. Turn your mobile phone off.

The routine is set by a choreographer or assistant – here your training pays off. Aren’t you the one who learns better and faster than everyone? This is your chance. Musicals are commercial ventures, and time is money — they teach routines once only. Watch direction, speed, timing and dynamic. Are you portraying a wild animal, wounded soldier, factory worker, robot? You must convince them that you’re what they want.

“I had to stop going to auditions thinking, ‘Oh, I hope they like me.’ I had to go in thinking I was the answer to their problem”. — George Clooney

If there’s a piano, don’t dance behind it where you can’t be seen. Don’t collide with it, or get squeezed between pianist and orchestra pit. Watch the pianist, his up-beat helps you to get into the routine when it starts.

Presently you’ll split into groups. Out front, people are watching you from the semi-darkness: director, designer, choreographer, composer, musical director, maybe a union representative. There’s probably work-light, the dreariest and most depressing overhead light imaginable, which feels expressly designed to underline everything you’d rather hide, making the people out front look bored, remote, resentful.

Time to switch on your magic. You know the steps, you’ve sussed the music, you’ve created a character, you’re technically up to it. Let’s do this thing. Don’t try to hide or fake — you can’t. Auditions show everything about you, and out front they’re taking notes. Keep clean, watch the placing, don’t invade anyone’s space. Radiate energy and enjoyment; stay visible. Watch the choreographer — be the one who gets the message first. “STOP!” means just that — now, not two bars later, even if that was your favourite pirouette. These people have seen pirouettes. Each sequence will be counted in very briefly indeed. If you’re lucky, you might get “Five, Six, Seven, Eight,” but often it’ll just be “…Seven, Eight…” Blink, and you’ve missed it, and the job.

“There’s always very high tension with dance auditions! You’re in a group, watching the people in the front of the room, hoping you’ll get something, anything that will relieve a bit of the stress”.
— Sarah Hay

Sell it, hard, beautifully, and always. Don’t’ be scared. They need to cast their ideal person, so convince them that person is you. Don’t be tired, impatient, tearful. Keep breathing, constantly. If asked, dance it again, better. And again. And one more time. Eventually someone might say “Take five, please”; more likely it will be longer, but do your thing (drink some water, find a toilet) and get back asap. Don’t sit down – you’ll lose muscle heat and responsiveness, and it’s a shortcut to injury.

“Don’t sit down – you might dry in a funny position”. — Christopher Gable, in rehearsal

After the break, some people disappear. If you’re still there, don’t let their distress affect you. You won’t have time, because you’re dancing – possibly the same sequence, maybe new choreography. Keep hydrated, stay awake, learn it fast and do it well, as often as necessary. Give’em what they want, or they won’t give you anything. Gradually more people will be eliminated; eventually only a few are left. If you’re still there, you’re doing well — enjoy it, show your delight in your work. If you don’t get accepted, it’s not your fault, and you haven’t failed, you’re just not what they’re looking for. They need a specific type or person, and this time it’s not you. This is hard, every time, but there’ll be countless other auditions – save your courage and strength. Meanwhile you’ve learnt useful things, gained experience, had some free dancing and done good stuff. Use it — be glad.

“I’ve had heartbreaking auditions where they don’t even look at you. You’re out before you’re in”. — Rachel McAdams

Or else… you’re still there at the end (that can’t be bad). There’ll be a voice audition now. Maybe you could change first, (ask the stage manager), have a bite of the sandwich you remembered (didn’t you?) to bring. Don’t overeat but do drink enough – you’ve sweated out several litres.

Find somewhere private, warm up your voice. Voice auditions can feel less terrifying than dance calls. You’ll rehearse with piano, possibly with the musical director. For big rôles, you’ll have to sing solo, possibly onstage with lights, maybe props. Relax — control your breathing. Find truth in the song and the character; enjoy it. Most musicals are amplified – they don’t need an opera voice, but they want strength, quality, pitch, skill, timing and musicality.

At last it’s over. No results yet, but you may be asked for a recall. If no-one says anything, give the stage manager your contact details. Keep your disappointment private (no-one else is interested), collect your kit, thank the people in charge, and get home, into a much-needed shower. Load some sensible nutrition on board, get to bed, and stay physically and psychologically intact. Tomorrow’s another day, with other auditions — please treat yourself kindly.

“The more auditions you go on, the more you will learn not to take it personally”. — Paula Abdul