The Casting Call
Terror and beauty await Naples Dinner Theatre directors looking for their next big stars
Sunday, May 26, 2002
By NANCY STETSON, nrstetson@naplesnews.com
NEW YORK — In the end, it all comes down to this: a small, bare New York studio with an upright Baldwin piano in the corner and a group of people sitting behind a table, watching you intently, judging you.
Jeff Scott Blameuser, 25, of New York City via Panama City, Fla., gathers his thoughts, composing himself before his singing rehearsal studio at Shetler Studios in midtown Manhattan. Jeff has lived in New York since Jan. 2000, appearing in six shows. His most recent performance was in the national tour of the musical 'Grease.' Gary Coronado/Staff
You have 30 seconds — maybe a minute — to win them over, seduce them, make them fall in love with you. You have 16 bars of song to pour your entire heart into and connect with theirs.
Your entire career and training up to this point have all led up to this very moment when your future will be decided: the audition.
Two weeks ago, the Naples Dinner Theatre held auditions in New York City for actors for their 2002-2003 season. Over three days, they saw more than 375 actors/singers/dancers.
They were looking for Maria and Tony for "West Side Story," Roxy for "Chicago!", Che for "Evita" and for a matinee Evita. They were also looking to fill roles for "Hello, Dolly" and "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change," a contemporary musical about relationships.
They placed an ad in "Backstage" and "Show Business," two New York trade magazines for actors, rented a studio on 8th Avenue between West 55 and 56 Streets for three days, and then waited to see who would show up.
"We're looking for somebody who looks polished, who has a fabulous voice," said director Michael Wainstein. "And then from there, you look at other skills: acting skills, if it's a major acting role. We have people read for us. Or dancing skills, we send them on to the dance auditions. We're looking at all their abilities, once we know that they can sing. That's the most important thing, the singing."
Your entire career and training up to this point have all led up to this very moment when your future will be decided: the audition.
Two weeks ago, the Naples Dinner Theatre held auditions in New York City for actors for their 2002-2003 season. Over three days, they saw more than 375 actors/singers/dancers.
They were looking for Maria and Tony for "West Side Story," Roxy for "Chicago!", Che for "Evita" and for a matinee Evita. They were also looking to fill roles for "Hello, Dolly" and "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change," a contemporary musical about relationships.
They placed an ad in "Backstage" and "Show Business," two New York trade magazines for actors, rented a studio on 8th Avenue between West 55 and 56 Streets for three days, and then waited to see who would show up.
"We're looking for somebody who looks polished, who has a fabulous voice," said director Michael Wainstein. "And then from there, you look at other skills: acting skills, if it's a major acting role. We have people read for us. Or dancing skills, we send them on to the dance auditions. We're looking at all their abilities, once we know that they can sing. That's the most important thing, the singing."
Dana Barathy, 21, right, of Queens, N.Y., via Lansing, Mich., works on the dance routine to "West Side Story" before the dance audition. Thirty-five actors and actresses will be chosen from 376 who auditioned during the three days of open auditions for the 2002-2003 season of Naples Dinner Theatre. Gary Coronado/Staff
Actors were lining up the hallway, so auditions started five minutes early at 9:55 a.m. on Mother's Day. Michael Koursaris walked in, handed his head shot and resumé to Wainstein, gave his music to the half-hidden accompanist behind the piano, and proceeded to sing a beautiful rendition of "On the Street Where You Live." Koursaris, sporting black spiky hair and long sideburns, confidently presented his song, making eye contact with everyone behind the table: associate artistic director Barry Marcus, producer Stuart Glazer and Wainstein. Marcus and Wainstein graded each performance on voice in general, style, legit voice (ballad), belt voice (how they can belt out a song such as "Everything's Coming Up Roses") acting ability and look. Wainstein asked him if he could dance, and signed him up for a dance audition the following day.
And the pattern repeated itself over and over and over for three days. Every three or five minutes, the door would open, an actor would leave and a new one would walk in.
Some were confident; some were shy; others were brash and full of bravado. Some had "pretty face," but soon demonstrated that they possessed more looks than talent. Some were prettier or more handsome than their head shot, while others looked not quite as glamorous. Some dressed up, while others looked as though they'd given no thought to their wardrobe, throwing on the first thing they saw when they rolled out of bed that morning.
Some seemed unremarkable until they opened their mouth to sing. Then the room was filled with beauty, and their faces were transformed.
And the pattern repeated itself over and over and over for three days. Every three or five minutes, the door would open, an actor would leave and a new one would walk in.
Some were confident; some were shy; others were brash and full of bravado. Some had "pretty face," but soon demonstrated that they possessed more looks than talent. Some were prettier or more handsome than their head shot, while others looked not quite as glamorous. Some dressed up, while others looked as though they'd given no thought to their wardrobe, throwing on the first thing they saw when they rolled out of bed that morning.
Some seemed unremarkable until they opened their mouth to sing. Then the room was filled with beauty, and their faces were transformed.
One gaunt man from Russia, dressed all in black, sang his song with his eyes closed. Wainstein asked him to sing the song again, this time with his eyes open. The singer kept closing them but would suddenly remember, and open them again.
One woman had a nervous habit of moving her right hand in tight circles, as though she was churning butter. One man kept jerking his head in an impersonation of a rock star. Another gestured in the exact same way with every line he sang. It seemed like a theatrical motion he'd been coached to make, but it had no connection to the lyrics and detracted from the song. You'd think: "Oh, look, he's going to make that dramatic gesture again." And sure enough, he would.
One short woman with long red hair planted herself in her spot and blasted the trio with her song.
"The little-er they are, the bigger the voice," Glazer confided in a whisper.
"Loud is nice, but loud without any richness or depth or interpretation is boring," said Wainstein, who's been doing auditions for 24 years. "I need someone who can interpret a song. Some performers try to overwhelm the directors by singing as loud as they can, as though they can impress with sheer volume. You expect the trio behind the table to look like the man in the Maxell ad: hair blown straight back from the force of the volume.
One woman had a nervous habit of moving her right hand in tight circles, as though she was churning butter. One man kept jerking his head in an impersonation of a rock star. Another gestured in the exact same way with every line he sang. It seemed like a theatrical motion he'd been coached to make, but it had no connection to the lyrics and detracted from the song. You'd think: "Oh, look, he's going to make that dramatic gesture again." And sure enough, he would.
One short woman with long red hair planted herself in her spot and blasted the trio with her song.
"The little-er they are, the bigger the voice," Glazer confided in a whisper.
"Loud is nice, but loud without any richness or depth or interpretation is boring," said Wainstein, who's been doing auditions for 24 years. "I need someone who can interpret a song. Some performers try to overwhelm the directors by singing as loud as they can, as though they can impress with sheer volume. You expect the trio behind the table to look like the man in the Maxell ad: hair blown straight back from the force of the volume.
Shannon O'Connor, 26, left, of New York City via San José, Calif., waits in the hallway holding her head shot and résumé, while other actors rehearse music before their singing audition. O'Connor, a graduate of Boston University, unfortunately didn't get a position. Gary Coronado/Staff
"Some singers think range will impress the men, so they perform as though they're auditioning for an opera. Some sing so high it's surprising the lights, windows and mirrors don't all shatter. One woman is leaping the scales, singing higher and higher, about to hit that ultimate high note, when a fire engine siren upstages her. Another sings so high, there are probably still dogs barking in Queens."
Wainstein was unerringly kind to the performers, thanking them even when their talent isn't up to par. When one woman couldn't reach a note in her song, he told her it was OK and let her do it over again. This time, she nailed it.
But some of those auditioning seem to be severely self-deceived. Some are so bad they would receive only polite, mercy applause in a karaoke bar. Of the worst, some try to hit the notes, but aren't even on the right street, let alone the same neighborhood.
But Wainstein dismissed them with a pleasant "Thank you," and waited until they've left the room to toss their head shot and resumé into the garbage. "It's important to me to be nice to people," he said. "I was an actor, and so many people are horrible to actors. Once when I was 25, and auditioning, this guy (behind the table) was eating. He was really big and fat and obnoxious, making clucking noises while he was eating. A big hunk of his sandwich fell on his shirt, and he tried to wipe it off and just succeeded in rubbing it all over his shirt. I stopped singing and said, 'Listen to me or eat.' And he said, 'Why don't you get out of here?' I didn't want to work for him; he was so rude."
Wainstein was unerringly kind to the performers, thanking them even when their talent isn't up to par. When one woman couldn't reach a note in her song, he told her it was OK and let her do it over again. This time, she nailed it.
But some of those auditioning seem to be severely self-deceived. Some are so bad they would receive only polite, mercy applause in a karaoke bar. Of the worst, some try to hit the notes, but aren't even on the right street, let alone the same neighborhood.
But Wainstein dismissed them with a pleasant "Thank you," and waited until they've left the room to toss their head shot and resumé into the garbage. "It's important to me to be nice to people," he said. "I was an actor, and so many people are horrible to actors. Once when I was 25, and auditioning, this guy (behind the table) was eating. He was really big and fat and obnoxious, making clucking noises while he was eating. A big hunk of his sandwich fell on his shirt, and he tried to wipe it off and just succeeded in rubbing it all over his shirt. I stopped singing and said, 'Listen to me or eat.' And he said, 'Why don't you get out of here?' I didn't want to work for him; he was so rude."
Barry Marcus, associate artistic director, right, takes a break from auditions as he chats with Michael Kirsch, who was an actor last season at the Naples Dinner Theatre. Kirsch helped organize the walk-in rehearsals, assigning time slots, filling out of applications and monitoring the hallway. Gary Coronado/Staff
Though Wainstein and others grab a quick lunch behind the table, "I always look up and stop eating when somebody sings," Wainstein said.
After 24 years of auditioning actors, Wainstein has a sixth sense of which ones are right for the parts he's looking to fill.
"Michael knows so well, he can tell, when he just looks at someone, what role they could play," Glazer said. "I can tell a lot from auditions," Wainstein said. "I can tell if they have a big voice or no voice. Some people sang with a lot of personality and were infectious, and you just wanted to watch them and enjoy them and were moved and touched by what they did. Some people came in and just sang and didn't seem to connect to the material and didn't seem to care. I look for people who move me in an audition, because if they can do that, they can affect people when they're on stage.
"The problem is, sometimes people are incredible in auditions, and horrible on stage. And vice versa too: sometimes brilliant on stage and horrible in auditions. There's a lot of instinct working here too. Sometimes you can tell somebody has something, even if they're not giving their all to you during an audition."
Sometimes actors will go to an audition even if they're not right for the part, just to gain experience. And many take classes in how to audition, though, as New York actor Jeff Scot Blameuser said, "all the rules are just opinions."
He took a workshop in auditioning that brought in different casting directors to give feedback. But he soon noticed that the directors contradicted each other with their rules. For example, one said, "I'll never cast anyone who looks directly at me (while auditioning)." Then the next one said, "I love them to look at me. Look at me!"
Since I did my first show when I was 14, I knew it was what I wanted to do," says Erica Hanrahan, 23, of New York City via Budd Lake, N.J. Erica, who has a bachelor of fine arts from New York University, was invited back for a dance audition the following day. But she didn't get an acting position with Naples Dinner Theatre. Gary Coronado/Staff
"I got to see other people performing and auditioning, which you never get to see," he said. "You never know what other people are doing when they're in there."
At his audition for the Naples Dinner Theatre, he sang "Maria" a cappella. Instantly, he was transformed into a man in love.
He auditioned for the roles of Che and Tony, but preferred Tony.
"I played Tony four years ago in Florida in Niceville, in the panhandle," Blameuser said.
Putting across a song "starts with the lyrics and the story in the song," he says. "What I do, I think of specific things personally that will help me get to that moment to make it have a lot of feeling, to say more.
"It's hard — auditioning is unnatural. A lot of times you're just singing a portion of a song; there's no context, no story going on, no build up. You have to show them a certain quality. In a show, you have people to react off of, but in an audition, you don't."
And, like every actor, Blameuser has to deal with rejection.
"You have to keep a positive outlook," he says. "It's difficult. It can be frustrating. There are always things that are out of your control, like your type. There's a million things you don't know about, especially when they're casting with people are already cast. They might be short or tall, so you might be too tall or too short for them. Or they might want someone from a different ethnic background. You tell yourself not to take it personally, but you still take it with you."
Scoop Slone, 27, of Brooklyn, New York, who's ultimately cast for the role of Tony in "West Side Story," as well as Cornelius in "Hello, Dolly" and Magaldi in "Evita," takes a more philosophical view.
"I don't see not getting cast as rejection," he says. "It's just at that moment, you're not what they need." He recalls auditioning for "Footloose" and not getting cast because he was taller than everyone else. He also auditioned for "Cabaret," but was told he looked too much like another actor already in the show; the directors thought it would be too confusing for audiences to have the two on stage at the same time.
At his audition for the Naples Dinner Theatre, he sang "Maria" a cappella. Instantly, he was transformed into a man in love.
He auditioned for the roles of Che and Tony, but preferred Tony.
"I played Tony four years ago in Florida in Niceville, in the panhandle," Blameuser said.
Putting across a song "starts with the lyrics and the story in the song," he says. "What I do, I think of specific things personally that will help me get to that moment to make it have a lot of feeling, to say more.
"It's hard — auditioning is unnatural. A lot of times you're just singing a portion of a song; there's no context, no story going on, no build up. You have to show them a certain quality. In a show, you have people to react off of, but in an audition, you don't."
And, like every actor, Blameuser has to deal with rejection.
"You have to keep a positive outlook," he says. "It's difficult. It can be frustrating. There are always things that are out of your control, like your type. There's a million things you don't know about, especially when they're casting with people are already cast. They might be short or tall, so you might be too tall or too short for them. Or they might want someone from a different ethnic background. You tell yourself not to take it personally, but you still take it with you."
Scoop Slone, 27, of Brooklyn, New York, who's ultimately cast for the role of Tony in "West Side Story," as well as Cornelius in "Hello, Dolly" and Magaldi in "Evita," takes a more philosophical view.
"I don't see not getting cast as rejection," he says. "It's just at that moment, you're not what they need." He recalls auditioning for "Footloose" and not getting cast because he was taller than everyone else. He also auditioned for "Cabaret," but was told he looked too much like another actor already in the show; the directors thought it would be too confusing for audiences to have the two on stage at the same time.
Chrissy Wright, Naples Dinner Theatre resident choreographer and company member, teaches a dance routine to a group of actors while Barry Marcus keeps an eye out for potential members of the next troupe. Gary Coronado/Staff
"This is a large contract. There's a lot at stake," Slone said. But, he added, "I don't audition for something I'm not right for. I go on recommendations from my coaches as far as my vocal type and my physical type. The coaches say, 'You're good for this and for this.' "
As far as the auditions themselves, "You have to put a lot into it," he said. "They're looking for an opening night performance. They want the best sense of what you can be in whatever role."
For the directors, it's a series of intense days. Picture the last song of a musical, the one in which the lead pulls out all the stops and belts out a heartfelt song. Then picture hearing songs performed with that same energy and intensity, with no build-up or context, for eight hours straight, with slight half-minute breaks in between as actors leave and enter the room to perform. That's what an audition is like.
For the actors, there's a lot of waiting, followed by an intense two or three minutes in the auditioning room — longer, if they like you and ask you to sing another song or do a monologue.
Actor Suzanne Dressler gets called back a couple of times to do a monologue from "Hello, Dolly" and a monologue and a song from "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change," but ultimately isn't offered a role, even though the men liked her. "I've been auditioning for about a year," she said. "It does get easier with every audition, even if you think it's not. It's another audition under my belt. A callback feels really good. It's reaffirming to know that you're doing something right. You're touching people, in a way, even if you have two seconds.
"The whole process is unlike any other — the waiting in line, the constant rejection. But also the callbacks! You have to find pleasure and satisfaction for just doing a good job at an audition, even if you don't get called back. It's just the satisfaction from doing the best job I can do. I've learned it's much more rewarding. That's what sustains you in the long run."
As the days go on, the halls fill up with actors waiting to audition. The hall is long and narrow, with green metal doors, almost like the hall of doors in "Yellow Submarine." The actors sign up with the hall monitor, then sit on a narrow wooden bench. Some put on makeup; some study their lines; some look over their music. Others read, or wear headphones and listen to soothing music to block out everyone else.
Staci Rudnitsky, who's in the running for the role of Mama Morton in "Chicago!", has been auditioning for five years.
"It's difficult to show what you can do in two minutes or less," she says. "Generally you get 16 bars — maybe 30 seconds or a minute. On your good days, it's nerve-wracking. On your bad days, you're indifferent, and that's not good, because it means you're not giving anything, you're just going through the motions. Nerves and excitement are good, but boredom isn't.
"You don't want to sing something from the show (you're auditioning for). ...You don't want to pigeonhole yourself. Maybe you think you're good for one role, but they think you'll be good for another."
Rudnitsky says she's heard good things about the Naples Dinner Theatre.
"It's a small community," she says of actors. "If you don't know someone who's worked there, chances are a friend of a friend knows someone. Besides, I'd much rather spend a month where it's warm than spend a month in Minnesota."
Actor Leah Horowitz has been auditioning since she was six years old.
"I'm used to it, auditioning," she said. "My mom would bribe me, drag me to auditions. She knew I wanted to be in the show, but I hated auditions. It does get easier, the more you do. I'd go to two or three a day, and it became routine.
"You have get up early, at 5:30 a.m. to go for an open call to sign up, so you'll be seen. You see a lot of girls putting their make-up on. Most singers have a book full of songs of all different styles that they use, depending on the audition. You usually change what you do (depending upon what you're auditioning for)."I feel that for me, if I've done the song and sing it well enough, I'm proud of it and confident with the sound, I've done it. Many times, it's worth it for me."
Dealing with rejection is "something you learn how to deal with," she says. "If you go around feeling downtrodden all the time, it will negatively affect your performance. You can just be too short or too tall for a role. Somebody taught me that everything happens for a reason. The times I've gotten rejected for something, I was upset about it, but I somehow got something that was better and I felt that it was meant to be. You just have to have confidence in yourself."
As far as the auditions themselves, "You have to put a lot into it," he said. "They're looking for an opening night performance. They want the best sense of what you can be in whatever role."
For the directors, it's a series of intense days. Picture the last song of a musical, the one in which the lead pulls out all the stops and belts out a heartfelt song. Then picture hearing songs performed with that same energy and intensity, with no build-up or context, for eight hours straight, with slight half-minute breaks in between as actors leave and enter the room to perform. That's what an audition is like.
For the actors, there's a lot of waiting, followed by an intense two or three minutes in the auditioning room — longer, if they like you and ask you to sing another song or do a monologue.
Actor Suzanne Dressler gets called back a couple of times to do a monologue from "Hello, Dolly" and a monologue and a song from "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change," but ultimately isn't offered a role, even though the men liked her. "I've been auditioning for about a year," she said. "It does get easier with every audition, even if you think it's not. It's another audition under my belt. A callback feels really good. It's reaffirming to know that you're doing something right. You're touching people, in a way, even if you have two seconds.
"The whole process is unlike any other — the waiting in line, the constant rejection. But also the callbacks! You have to find pleasure and satisfaction for just doing a good job at an audition, even if you don't get called back. It's just the satisfaction from doing the best job I can do. I've learned it's much more rewarding. That's what sustains you in the long run."
As the days go on, the halls fill up with actors waiting to audition. The hall is long and narrow, with green metal doors, almost like the hall of doors in "Yellow Submarine." The actors sign up with the hall monitor, then sit on a narrow wooden bench. Some put on makeup; some study their lines; some look over their music. Others read, or wear headphones and listen to soothing music to block out everyone else.
Staci Rudnitsky, who's in the running for the role of Mama Morton in "Chicago!", has been auditioning for five years.
"It's difficult to show what you can do in two minutes or less," she says. "Generally you get 16 bars — maybe 30 seconds or a minute. On your good days, it's nerve-wracking. On your bad days, you're indifferent, and that's not good, because it means you're not giving anything, you're just going through the motions. Nerves and excitement are good, but boredom isn't.
"You don't want to sing something from the show (you're auditioning for). ...You don't want to pigeonhole yourself. Maybe you think you're good for one role, but they think you'll be good for another."
Rudnitsky says she's heard good things about the Naples Dinner Theatre.
"It's a small community," she says of actors. "If you don't know someone who's worked there, chances are a friend of a friend knows someone. Besides, I'd much rather spend a month where it's warm than spend a month in Minnesota."
Actor Leah Horowitz has been auditioning since she was six years old.
"I'm used to it, auditioning," she said. "My mom would bribe me, drag me to auditions. She knew I wanted to be in the show, but I hated auditions. It does get easier, the more you do. I'd go to two or three a day, and it became routine.
"You have get up early, at 5:30 a.m. to go for an open call to sign up, so you'll be seen. You see a lot of girls putting their make-up on. Most singers have a book full of songs of all different styles that they use, depending on the audition. You usually change what you do (depending upon what you're auditioning for)."I feel that for me, if I've done the song and sing it well enough, I'm proud of it and confident with the sound, I've done it. Many times, it's worth it for me."
Dealing with rejection is "something you learn how to deal with," she says. "If you go around feeling downtrodden all the time, it will negatively affect your performance. You can just be too short or too tall for a role. Somebody taught me that everything happens for a reason. The times I've gotten rejected for something, I was upset about it, but I somehow got something that was better and I felt that it was meant to be. You just have to have confidence in yourself."
Dana Barathy, of Queens, N.Y., graduated from the American Musical and Dramatic Academy in New York. "I have been doing this since I was 10. So this is my 11th year this summer," says Barathy. "I knew I wanted to be a singer, after that everything else just fell into place." Gary Coronado/Staff
On the last two days of auditions, Naples Dinner Theatre resident choreographer Chrissy Wright holds auditions in an adjoining studio. On the first day, she teaches the dancers a complex series of steps from "America" from "West Side Story."
"I chose one of the most difficult sections of the dance," she said. "The style is flamenco-based, with the pose and the posture very proud and held. It's hard to have that type of a base and jump around so much as you jump around, and look as though you're in control of the movement.
"The whole score is very syncopated. This is one of the most feared scores to be handed to an orchestra member, and for a dancer too, because you have to be able to count in a syncopated manner. "Fosse is very sustained movement, but 'West Side Story' is more jumpy and popping. It takes more technique to jump up and down on stage and not look like you're flailing around."
The first day of dance auditions are discouraging. There's lots of flailing around, a lot of forgotten steps and made up steps. One woman at the first audition looks around, her eyes darting from side to side. She watches the others attempt the steps, and when it comes time for her to audition, she grabs her bags and darts out of the studio, declaring, "I am the weakest link!"
The actors usually classify themselves as dancers or movers.
"Dancers are trained technicians, and movers have a sense of the timing and have the ability to acquire the technique," Wright said. "There's a huge difference."
She sees approximately 250 dancers over a two-day period, in groups of 15 for 45 minutes each, judging each person on their dance ability at the end of each session.
Wright is still looking for dancers.
"Out of 250, there were maybe two that I'd call strong Broadway dancers," she says. "And then maybe 10 above-average dancers. Most of them were average at best."
Actors chosen for leads in one or two shows may find themselves in the ensemble in other shows, so dance ability is important.
Two weeks later, some actors have accepted roles in the dinner theater's upcoming season, while other positions are still pending.
"The three of us come together and put our two cents in as to what we think about the actors," said associate artistic director Barry Marcus. "And then we all sit and mull over what each of us has said."
One actor who was almost chosen for the role of Tony was deemed too diva-ish, he says.
"As a personality, I thought he might be a difficult person to deal with," Marcus says. "Stuart was very in favor of Scoop (Slone as Tony). He bought a dark, brooding quality to Tony and when he made us aware of that, then we all saw it. The three of us just throw things at each other. Ultimately, it has to Michael's choice.
"One person says, 'That's the one I think is best for this role,' and the two of us will add our two cents. It's a good working relationship. Maybe one might have vibes about a person, maybe one of us doesn't see it, but when we're made aware of it, then we see it. Michael and I are on the same wave length for talent, who's right for certain roles."
But, Marcus says, every time he holds auditions, "I'm reminded of how brutal the profession is. There's so much talent. Someone could walk in and have a very pleasant demeanor, and you connect with them. Someone else might have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or they're not as friendly, so you think differently about them. Or maybe it's the songs that people choose to show off their talent.
"Out of the whole group, maybe there were five or 10 people that were not really good, and everybody else was just wonderful. But there's just only so many roles. Why you pick one person over another is just a feeling of something you want in the part.
"It's a brutal profession," Marcus declares. "I'm glad I'm on the other side of the desk."
"I chose one of the most difficult sections of the dance," she said. "The style is flamenco-based, with the pose and the posture very proud and held. It's hard to have that type of a base and jump around so much as you jump around, and look as though you're in control of the movement.
"The whole score is very syncopated. This is one of the most feared scores to be handed to an orchestra member, and for a dancer too, because you have to be able to count in a syncopated manner. "Fosse is very sustained movement, but 'West Side Story' is more jumpy and popping. It takes more technique to jump up and down on stage and not look like you're flailing around."
The first day of dance auditions are discouraging. There's lots of flailing around, a lot of forgotten steps and made up steps. One woman at the first audition looks around, her eyes darting from side to side. She watches the others attempt the steps, and when it comes time for her to audition, she grabs her bags and darts out of the studio, declaring, "I am the weakest link!"
The actors usually classify themselves as dancers or movers.
"Dancers are trained technicians, and movers have a sense of the timing and have the ability to acquire the technique," Wright said. "There's a huge difference."
She sees approximately 250 dancers over a two-day period, in groups of 15 for 45 minutes each, judging each person on their dance ability at the end of each session.
Wright is still looking for dancers.
"Out of 250, there were maybe two that I'd call strong Broadway dancers," she says. "And then maybe 10 above-average dancers. Most of them were average at best."
Actors chosen for leads in one or two shows may find themselves in the ensemble in other shows, so dance ability is important.
Two weeks later, some actors have accepted roles in the dinner theater's upcoming season, while other positions are still pending.
"The three of us come together and put our two cents in as to what we think about the actors," said associate artistic director Barry Marcus. "And then we all sit and mull over what each of us has said."
One actor who was almost chosen for the role of Tony was deemed too diva-ish, he says.
"As a personality, I thought he might be a difficult person to deal with," Marcus says. "Stuart was very in favor of Scoop (Slone as Tony). He bought a dark, brooding quality to Tony and when he made us aware of that, then we all saw it. The three of us just throw things at each other. Ultimately, it has to Michael's choice.
"One person says, 'That's the one I think is best for this role,' and the two of us will add our two cents. It's a good working relationship. Maybe one might have vibes about a person, maybe one of us doesn't see it, but when we're made aware of it, then we see it. Michael and I are on the same wave length for talent, who's right for certain roles."
But, Marcus says, every time he holds auditions, "I'm reminded of how brutal the profession is. There's so much talent. Someone could walk in and have a very pleasant demeanor, and you connect with them. Someone else might have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, or they're not as friendly, so you think differently about them. Or maybe it's the songs that people choose to show off their talent.
"Out of the whole group, maybe there were five or 10 people that were not really good, and everybody else was just wonderful. But there's just only so many roles. Why you pick one person over another is just a feeling of something you want in the part.
"It's a brutal profession," Marcus declares. "I'm glad I'm on the other side of the desk."
Jenny is a triple threat. She is a wonderful type, she is a strong singer, dancer and actor who has the ability to play many roles," says Michael Wainstein, artistic director of the Naples Dinner Theatre. Jenny Lee Stern, 24, of Brooklyn, N.Y., via Doyles Town, Pa., has been offered a contract with the dinner theater to perform in "Evita," "Hello, Dolly!," "West Side Story" and "Chicago." "When I was little I wanted to be a waitress, a truck driver and a nurse. Here I can do everything," Stern said. Gary Coronado/Staff
Debi Joffee, 23, right, was offered a contract with the Naples Dinner Theatre but has not yet accepted a position. Joffee, originally from Westchester, N.Y., and living in New York City for a year, finished a contract with the Downstairs Cabaret Theater in Rochester, N.Y. Gary Coronado/Staff