Raising the Curtain on the Next Generation

 

There is something pretty wonderful about watching a child experience live theater. Maybe it's the first time they see a set transform in front of them. Maybe it's realizing that the people singing onstage are actually singing, right there, just a few feet away. Maybe it's the moment they become so completely absorbed in the story that they forget they're sitting in a theater at all. A great experience with live theater can create memories that last a lifetime and, sometimes, begin a lifelong love of the performing arts. But taking children to the theater can also require a little preparation.

Unlike watching a movie at home, there is no pause button, no volume control, and no easy trip to the kitchen when attention starts to wander. Live theater asks something of its audience, and learning how to be part of that audience is a skill. Fortunately, it's a pretty fun one to teach.

Start with the right show.

The single most important question isn't necessarily, "Is my child old enough?" It's "Is this a show my child will enjoy?" Children are wonderfully individual. One six-year-old may happily sit through a two-hour musical while another has reached the absolute limit of human endurance after 45 minutes. Some children love big music and spectacle. Others prefer familiar stories, comedy, or smaller productions. Consider your child's interests, attention span, maturity, and sensitivities when choosing a performance. And don't assume that "musical" automatically means "for children." Plenty of musicals contain mature themes, frightening moments, strong language, violence, or other material that may not be appropriate for every child. If you're unsure about a particular Hamilton Players production, ask us. We're happy to help you decide whether a show might be a good fit for your family.

Tell them what they're about to experience.

If a child has never attended live theater before, the experience itself can be surprising. Explain that the theater will get dark when the performance begins. There may be loud music or sudden noises. Actors might yell, cry, fight, wear unusual costumes or makeup, or appear somewhere unexpected. If you know a production contains something your child might find frightening, prepare them ahead of time. Knowing that a loud sound is coming, or that the "scary" character is really an actor playing pretend, can make a big difference. You can also explain some of the fun parts. People will laugh together. The audience may applaud after songs or scenes. There may be an intermission when everyone gets to stretch, use the restroom, and talk about what they've seen. And at the end, everybody gets to applaud the actors.

Give them a little bit of the story beforehand.

You don't have to spoil every surprise, but knowing the basic story can help children follow what is happening onstage. Tell them who some of the main characters are. Explain where the story takes place. If it's based on a book or movie they already know, talk about what they might recognize and what might be different. Then, once the show begins, they can concentrate on watching the story unfold rather than trying to figure out who everybody is.

Teach theater manners before you get there.

Children aren't born knowing theater etiquette. Someone has to teach them, and it's much easier to explain expectations at home than to introduce them for the first time in a dark theater.

Keep the rules simple:

• We stay in our own seat during the performance.
• We keep our feet off the seats and don't kick the seat in front of us.
• We use quiet voices only when absolutely necessary.
• We don't use phones or other electronic devices during the show.
• We try not to do things that make it hard for other people to see or hear.
• If we need a break, we'll quietly go to the lobby together.

Notice that none of those rules says a child must remain perfectly motionless for two hours. Children wiggle. They change positions. They react to things. Sometimes they ask a question. That's okay. The important distinction is whether their behavior is beginning to interfere with someone else's ability to enjoy the performance.

Set everyone up for success.

Use the restroom before the show. Even if they insist they don't need to. You know why. If you think your child might need a break during the performance, aisle seats can make getting in and out much easier. Make sure everyone has eaten, isn't overtired, and has had an opportunity to get some wiggles out before settling into a theater seat. These are small things, but they can make an enormous difference.

Let them know that taking a break is okay.

This may be the most important preparation of all. Before the show begins, tell your child that if they become scared, overwhelmed, restless, or simply need a break, you can step into the lobby together. It isn't a punishment and it doesn't mean they did anything wrong. Sometimes we all need a break. At Hamilton Players, if a child becomes restless or upset enough that it begins disrupting the performance, we ask an accompanying adult to step into the lobby with them. Our Front of House staff will be happy to help you return to your seats at an appropriate break in the performance. Knowing that there's an escape hatch can actually make the experience less stressful for both children and adults.

Every person needs a ticket and a seat.

At Hamilton Players, every audience member, regardless of age, must have their own ticket and their own seat. Babes in arms are not permitted. There are several reasons for this, including safety, comfort, and sightlines for the people seated behind you. More importantly, very young babies simply aren't developmentally ready for most of what live theater asks of an audience. They can't understand why the room suddenly became dark, why there was a loud noise, or why everyone around them suddenly burst into applause. There will be plenty of time to introduce them to theater when they're a little older, and we hope you will!

Remember that you're teaching a new skill.

A child's first theater experience doesn't have to be perfect to be successful. Maybe you make it through the entire show. Maybe you spend ten minutes in the lobby during Act II. Maybe they whisper one too many questions. Maybe they are absolutely mesmerized and spend the entire ride home talking about how the scenery worked. All of those experiences are part of learning how to be an audience member. The goal isn't to teach children to sit silently and disappear into their seats. It's to teach them that live theater is something special. Real people are onstage telling a story for us, and we're sharing that experience with all the other people in the room. We listen. We react. We laugh. We applaud. We make room for everyone else to enjoy it, too. And then, hopefully, we come back and do it all again. Because one of the best ways to ensure that live theater continues for generations is to invite the next generation in and teach them how much fun it is to be part of it.

 

Theater Etiquette (Part 1 of 2)

One of my favorite things about community theater is seeing new faces walk through our doors. New audience members, new volunteers, new actors, and sometimes people experiencing live theater for the very first time. So every once in a while, it seems worth revisiting a subject that isn't terribly exciting, but really does make a difference: theater etiquette.

Going to a live performance is a little different from going to the movies. At a movie, the performance has already happened. The actors can't hear your phone ring, notice you getting up, or see the glow from your screen. Their work has been captured through multiple takes, camera angles, editing, and all sorts of movie magic.

Live theater is different.

The people onstage are performing right in front of you, in real time. There is no rewind button and no second take. Every performance happens once, with that particular group of actors and that particular audience, and then it is gone. That's part of what makes theater so wonderful. It also means that the audience is part of the experience. Your laughter, applause, gasps, and even that wonderful silence when everyone is completely absorbed in a scene can affect the energy in the room. Actors feel it. Other audience members feel it. So, how can we all help make that shared experience a great one?

Give yourself a little extra time.

Nobody plans to be late. Parking happens. Babysitters happen. The person in front of you decides that this is the moment to drive 12 miles under the speed limit. But once a performance begins, seating late arrivals can be tricky. Depending on the theater and the production, you may need to wait for an appropriate break in the action before being seated. In some theaters, late seating isn't possible at all until intermission. It isn't meant as a punishment. Opening a door, walking through a darkened theater, searching for seats, and asking an entire row to stand can pull dozens of people out of the world the actors have just worked to create. Give yourself enough time to park, pick up your tickets, visit the restroom, grab something from concessions, find your seat, and settle in. It's a much nicer way to begin the evening anyway.

Let your phone enjoy the show quietly, too.

This is probably the biggest change in theater etiquette since I first started writing about the subject. Our phones have become such a constant part of our lives that we sometimes don't even notice how often we look at them. Inside a dark theater, though, everyone notices. A ringing phone is obviously distracting, but so is a glowing screen. Even on silent, checking a text, scrolling through a notification, or answering a quick message can light up several rows around you. And unless the theater specifically tells you otherwise, please don't photograph or record the performance. Performance rights and licensing agreements frequently restrict photography and recording, and the rules vary by production. More importantly, holding up a phone can distract the performers and the people sitting around you. So before the lights go down, silence the phone, tuck it away, and give yourself permission to be unavailable for a couple of hours. The rest of the world will almost certainly survive.

Beware the surprisingly powerful cough-drop wrapper.

There is some mysterious law of acoustics that makes a tiny candy wrapper approximately 700 times louder inside a quiet theater. If you know you're going to want a cough drop or piece of candy during the performance, unwrap it beforehand. The people around you will silently thank you. And if you do need one unexpectedly, that's okay. Just try to open it as quietly as you can. We're theater people, not monsters.

React to the show. Just don't compete with it.

A good audience doesn't have to sit perfectly still and silently. Please laugh. Applaud. Gasp. Cry. Respond. That exchange of energy between the audience and the performers is one of the things that makes live theater special. Conversation, however, is another matter. Even whispered conversations can carry surprisingly well in a theater. If you need to say something that can wait, save it for intermission. And during musicals, resist the temptation to sing along unless the performers invite you to. We love that you know every word. We really do. But the person sitting beside you bought a ticket to hear the people onstage sing it. You can absolutely give your own Tony Award-winning performance in the car on the way home.

Remember the people behind you.

Sightlines can be tricky in any theater, especially a small one. Large hats, leaning far forward, or putting two heads together can unintentionally block someone's view. You don't need to sit at attention for two hours. Just occasionally remember that someone behind you is also trying to see the stage. It's one of those tiny courtesies that makes a big difference.

And because apparently this needs to be said: please keep your shoes on.

Yes. This one comes from experience. No further explanation should be necessary.

Mostly, just enjoy yourself.

Theater etiquette isn't really about a long list of rules. It's about remembering that live theater is something we experience together. The actors are aware of the audience. Audience members are aware of one another. Every person in the room contributes, in some small way, to what that particular performance feels like. That's actually one of my favorite things about theater. No two performances are exactly alike because no two audiences are exactly alike. One night the laughter is enormous. Another night you can practically feel the audience holding its breath. Sometimes the applause begins before the lights have even finished fading. For a couple of hours, a room full of strangers agrees to put away the outside world and enter another one together. So arrive with a little time to spare. Put away the phone. Unwrap the cough drop. Keep your shoes on. Then settle in, enjoy the show, and help us make a little magic together.

10 Things I've Learned from the Youth Theater Program

 I recently had the privilege of being the lunch speaker at a local Kiwanis Club meeting. When I was invited, the dear friend - educator, Kiwanian, and frequent collaborator - who invited me suggested I talk about Hamilton Players’ youth program. Now, I could spend HOURS talking about the theater and its various programs, so narrowing the topic to youth theater was helpful...but still waaayyy too broad.

As I thought about all the things I could share, I realized I kept coming back to a handful of stories that delivered the same message: Those kids were teaching me more than I could ever teach them. So, I decided to distill those lessons into an easy-to-digest list of ten things I’ve learned from the Hamilton Players’ Youth Program. And then I thought, why not share them with you, too?

10 Things I’ve Learned from the Hamilton Players’ Youth Theater Program

1. Bravery doesn’t mean not being scared.

I’ve noticed that as people get older, we often become more cautious about taking risks. I don’t mean the bungee-jumping/hip-breaking kind. I mean the make-new-friends, try-a-new-restaurant, visit-a-new-place kind. Comfort zones can get awfully comfortable. But kids remind me that courage isn’t the absence of fear. Courage is being terrified to audition, sing alone, try improv, or walk onto a stage…and doing it anyway. On the other side of that fear, they discover new friends, forge new paths, and make incredible memories simply because they chose action over fear.

2. Failure is much less important than adults think it is.

Adults can give failure far more weight than it deserves. We replay our mistakes, analyze them, agonize over them, and sometimes let the possibility of failing keep us from trying at all. Kids forget a line, miss an entrance, mess up choreography...and keep going. Five minutes later, they’re laughing. They remind me that mistakes are part of learning, not evidence that we shouldn’t have tried. Failure should be a stepping-stone or a detour not a roadblock.

3. Belonging can happen remarkably fast.

Making new friends as an adult can feel daunting. It takes time, vulnerability, and effort, and we can get remarkably good at talking ourselves out of it. Kids often skip right past all that self-restriction. Put a group of kids together who may not know one another on Monday, give them something to create together, and by Friday they have inside jokes, shared experiences, and a community. A year later, they may walk back through the theater doors and greet one another with hugs as if no time has passed. Kids remind me that sometimes friendship gets harder because we’ve learned to make it harder. We create rules and definitions instead of simply meeting people where they are.

4. Every kid needs a place where their particular kind of “weird” is useful.

As adults, we tend to compartmentalize our “weird” and only bring it out when we feel safe and seen. But theater thrives on weird. Theater has a place for the loud kid, the quiet observer, the kid who memorizes everything, the class clown, the artist, the musician, the organizer, and the kid with the wildly specific obsession who has been waiting their entire life for someone to ask what they know about medieval weaponry, yoyo-ing, or obscure Disney villains. There are a lot of ways to be valuable. Theater has a wonderful way of seeing and acknowledging them.

5. Kids are capable of much more than we sometimes expect of them.

This is a big one, and it never fails to amaze me. The fact that a group of 40 kids can learn the blocking, dialogue, music, and choreography for a 75-minute show in a ONE-WEEK CAMP absolutely blows my mind. I once gave a TEDx talk that I wrote myself and still had trouble memorizing it! But give kids real responsibility, clear expectations, good instruction, and somebody who genuinely believes they can do it, and they will often meet, and exceed, those expectations. In 16 years of teaching summer theater camps, I have yet to see a group fail to rise to the occasion.

6. Confidence is built through doing, not through being told to be confident.

Adults can get pretty bogged down in self-talk. Encouragement and visualization are helpful, but nothing quite replaces actually doing the thing. You can tell a child, “You can do this,” a hundred times. But there is something transformative about the moment they actually do the hard thing and realize: “I did that.” That accomplishment belongs to them. No one handed it to them. They earned it. And they own it forever. Every time they do something they weren’t sure they could do, they add another piece of evidence to the growing belief that maybe, just maybe, they are capable of more than they thought.

7. Play is serious work.

This is one that touches me on an almost daily basis. I have the extraordinary privilege of having a career built around the what-if of imagination. I am constantly creating worlds in my mind and helping bring them to life onstage, and it is one of the most fulfilling things I have ever done. Imagination, improvisation, pretending, experimenting, and being silly aren’t wasted time. Through play, kids practice creativity, communication, problem-solving, empathy, flexibility, and trust. Those abilities matter far beyond a stage. They matter in relationships, classrooms, workplaces, communities, and pretty much anywhere humans have to figure things out together. Which is...everywhere.

8. Being seen matters enormously.

As adults, we sometimes devalue recognition. We convince ourselves that it is altruistic, or maybe even morally superior, not to care whether anyone notices what we contribute. But acknowledgement matters. Being seen matters. And kids have reminded me of that. Not every child in our program is the lead. That doesn’t matter. Sometimes one of the most important things an adult can do is simply notice:

“I saw what you did there.”

“I saw you help that younger kid.”

“I saw you keep trying.”

“I saw how much work you put into that.”

Those are small sentences. But at the right moment, to the right person, they can mean an enormous amount. Kids have reminded me how powerful genuine recognition can be, and that maybe adults need it, too.

9. The goal isn’t to create professional actors.

I’ve learned not to get bogged down in perfection. Most of these kids won’t pursue theater professionally, and that’s not the point. We’re helping create adults who can speak in front of people, collaborate with others, accept feedback, solve problems, take risks, recover from mistakes, and appreciate the arts. We teach them to keep going when something is difficult. To give their best effort. To contribute to something larger than themselves. To find beauty and pride in accomplishment, whatever that accomplishment may be. If some of them grow up to be professional actors, wonderful. But if they grow up to be teachers, engineers, nurses, plumbers, scientists, business owners, parents, or community volunteers who are a little more confident, creative, empathetic, and willing to stand in front of a room and speak? That’s a pretty great outcome, too.

10. The impact often isn’t visible when you’re making it.

This might be the hardest lesson, but the longer I am in theater, the more I see evidence of it. I now have kids I taught when they were 10, 11, or 12 years old coming back with children of their own and telling me they want their kids to do theater because it changed their lives. The arts make an impact on kids. But you don’t always know which rehearsal, role, friendship, compliment, ridiculous improv game, or quiet moment backstage is going to stay with a child. Sometimes you don’t find out until years later. Kids have taught me that the small moments matter precisely because we don’t get to choose which ones become important. We just have to keep creating them.

Maybe the Teachers Aren’t Always the Teachers

We talk a lot about what arts education gives kids. But after doing this for years, I’m increasingly aware of what the kids give us. They remind us to be brave. To play. To risk looking foolish. To recover quickly when things go wrong. To make room for each other. To notice people. To try things we aren’t sure we’ll be good at. And to celebrate what we create together. We may be the instructors. But we are definitely not the only teachers in the room.

 

Guest Blog: Music Beyond the Musical

When people hear the words musical theater, they naturally think of unforgettable songs, lively choreography, and the thrill of a live orchestra. While musicals place music center stage, music still plays an important role in the many different stories we share at Hamilton Players. Whether we're presenting My Fair Lady, a straight play like Boeing-Boeing, a Reader's Theater performance of Macbeth, or one of our youth performances, music is one of the many elements that helps shape the audience's experience.

Music begins its work before the first line is spoken. In a musical, the overture sets the tone and draws us into the world of the story. From that moment on, the score becomes part of the storytelling, guiding our emotions and giving voice to thoughts that dialogue alone can't always express.

In a musical, songs celebrate triumphs, reveal fears, and deepen our understanding of the characters. The performers, musicians, director, and technical crew all become storytellers, creating an experience that can only happen in live theater.

Our non-musical productions take a different approach. The focus is on the actors, the script, and the power of the spoken word. When music is used, it's intentional—perhaps to establish a time or place, support a transition, or underscore a key moment. Just as meaningful are the times when there is no music at all. Silence can heighten tension, draw us closer to a character, and allow an important scene to unfold without distraction. Choosing when to use music—and when to let silence speak—is part of the art of theater.

At Hamilton Players, music also represents something larger than the notes on a page. It reminds us that theater is a collaborative art. Whether it's a pit orchestra rehearsing for a musical, a music director working with performers, or volunteers backstage preparing for opening night, each person contributes to the story. That spirit of collaboration has been part of Hamilton Players from the beginning. Built through the dedication of community volunteers, our theater continues to thrive because people share their talents, their time, and their love of the performing arts.

One of the strengths of a community theater season is its variety. Some productions fill the theater with music from beginning to end. Others rely almost entirely on dialogue. Both invite audiences to laugh, reflect, and connect with the stories unfolding on stage. 

As another season unfolds at Hamilton Players, I hope you'll notice the care that goes into every production. Sometimes you'll leave humming a favorite song. Other times you'll be thinking about a powerful conversation.. Whether through music, silence, or the spoken word, every artistic choice is made with one purpose in mind—to bring a story to life.

Guest Blogger Emily Athman is the Hamilton Players' Board Vice President and one of several Resident Music Directors who shape the sound of our musical productions.

Every Rule Has a Story (Usually an Expensive One)

One of my favorite things about community theater is that people are endlessly creative. Unfortunately, that creativity occasionally extends to finding new and exciting ways to accidentally create policies. Contrary to popular belief, the Hamilton Players staff does not gather once a month around a conference table asking, "How can we make life just a little more inconvenient?" Quite the opposite. Most of our rules exist because somewhere, sometime, somebody, with the best intentions, did something that made all of us collectively say, "Well...I guess we need a rule for that now." So today I thought I'd pull back the curtain and explain a few of the rules that tend to generate the most questions. Spoiler alert: none of them were created out of boredom or a power fetish.

Rule #1: No food in the House. 

At first glance, this one seems a little harsh. It's just popcorn. Or a cookie. Or half a granola bar… What's the worst that could happen? Well, allow me to introduce you to the unofficial stage crew of the Hamilton Playhouse. Mice. Pack rats. Squirrels. Birds. Wasps. Yellowjackets. Ants. Spiders. One skunk. And enough miscellaneous wildlife that I occasionally wonder if we're secretly operating a petting zoo.

Historic buildings are charming. Historic buildings are also full of tiny little places where tiny little creatures can decide they'd like to become paying tenants. Food crumbs are basically Zillow listings. One forgotten cookie under Row G becomes an engraved invitation. So when we say, "water only," we're not trying to deprive anyone of snacks. We're trying to keep your theater experience from including an unscheduled appearance by Mickey and friends.

Rule #2: Backstage food is weirdly specific. 

Our approved backstage snack list looks like it was written by someone's extremely cautious grandmother. Baby carrots. Mini pretzels. Red Vines. Hard candy (natural colors only). Oddly specific, right? There's a reason. Backstage isn't just backstage. It's also where several thousand dollars' worth of costumes are hanging.

Silk. Velvet. Satin. Fabric that seems to absorb chocolate from three zip codes away.

Actors also arrive well before the audience, often straight from work, and they may be at the theater for four hours before they head home. So yes, people need to eat. We just try to avoid foods that explode, melt, crumble, drip, smear, splatter, stain, or somehow migrate onto the only white costume in the show. It's less "No Fun Allowed,” and more "Let's not baptize Cinderella in nacho cheese."

Rule #3: No photography backstage.

This one isn't about secrecy. It's about dignity. Backstage doubles as our dressing room. That means costumes are changing. People are changing. Sometimes very quickly. Everyone is focused on getting the perfect picture of their best friend without realizing that someone's uncle is accidentally reflected in the mirror wearing approximately half of a pirate costume. The internet is forever. Wardrobe malfunctions should not be. So, the easiest solution is simple. No backstage photography. Everyone gets to focus on getting ready instead of wondering whether they're about to become an accidental internet meme.

 Rule #4: The lobby opens one hour before the show.

Not 75 minutes. Not whenever someone notices a car in the parking lot. Exactly one hour. Here's why. Imagine inviting forty people into your bedroom while you're still getting dressed. That's essentially what happens to the cast once the lobby opens. The actors retreat backstage, where dozens of people share one dressing room, one bathroom, costume racks, makeup stations, props, and varying levels of pre-show nerves. The hour before the lobby opening is their last chance to breathe, stretch, chat, and enjoy a little elbow room before they become glorified sardines. It's also your last chance not to see them. Part of the magic of theater is that your first glimpse of the characters happens when the curtain rises. Not when Cinderella is wandering through the lobby in curlers and a ratty track suit looking for her cell phone.

 The Moral of the Story

There are dozens of rules around the Playhouse. Some are required by law. Some protect our historic building. Some protect expensive equipment. Some protect people. And some protect all of us from discovering exactly how much chocolate can ruin velvet. None of them were created because we enjoy saying "no." They're simply the accumulated wisdom of thousands of rehearsals, hundreds of productions, and countless volunteers all trying to answer the same question: "How do we make this place safe, welcoming, and just a little less chaotic?"

 So, if you've ever wondered whether there's a funny story behind one of our rules, the answer is almost certainly yes. Some of those stories are safe to print. Some are probably better left to theater legend. Either way, the rule likely wasn't written until after someone cheerfully demonstrated why it was needed. Every rule has a story. Some of those stories are funny. Some are expensive. Most are both. The good news is that you don't have to learn those lessons the hard way. You just have to follow the rules that grew out of them.

Rehearsal vs. Real Life: What It Means to Commit to a Show

Doing a show is a whole experience unto itself. For most people, theater is something they do after work, after school, after family responsibilities, after errands, and after all the other obligations of everyday life. Then, suddenly, they find themselves spending six or seven weeks immersed in rehearsals, memorization, choreography, costumes, music, and production meetings. At Hamilton Players, the rehearsal process typically runs six weeks for plays and seven weeks for musicals. That's about 12.5 hours per week in scheduled rehearsals alone. Add the recommended minimum of 30 minutes a day for memorizing lines, practicing music, reviewing choreography, or refining blocking, and you're looking at roughly 16 to 17 hours per week devoted to the production. In other words, for a couple of months, you've essentially taken on a part-time job. And with that comes a whole set of realities that no one really talks about until you're already knee-deep in the process. Let's talk about them now.

Why Commitment Matters

One of the unique things about community theater is that there are often no understudies waiting in the wings. Every cast member matters. If someone becomes seriously ill, suffers an injury, or is unable to continue, the entire production can be affected. Sometimes roles can be recast. Sometimes emergency solutions can be found. Occasionally, they can't. In more than thirty years of community theater, I've only been involved with two productions that had to cancel or postpone performances due to illness. That's actually a remarkable track record. But I've also seen plenty of last-minute emergencies that required frantic problem-solving. In one particularly cursed production (whose title shall remain unspoken, in keeping with theatrical superstition), the director and music director both ended up onstage covering missing cast members during opening weekend while a replacement stage manager was called in at the last minute. And even as I write this, a Music Director and a Board Member are preparing to step into ensemble roles because of a sudden injury.

Theater people are incredibly resourceful. "The show must go on" is often more than a saying. But there are limits. When half the cast comes down with viral laryngitis or norovirus, there is only so much determination can accomplish. Sometimes the only option is to cancel, refund tickets, reschedule performances, and disinfect everything in sight. That's why commitment matters. Not because anyone expects perfection. Not because life never happens. But because every person in the cast has accepted responsibility not only for their own role, but for the success of the entire production. Here's some of what you should expect.

1. You Need More Sleep Than You Think

This sounds backwards. After all, rehearsals often run late. Casts socialize after rehearsal. Adrenaline makes it difficult to wind down. Yet the rehearsal process is surprisingly exhausting. You're learning new skills, memorizing information, making creative choices, solving problems, and often engaging in significant physical activity several nights a week. Your body and brain need recovery time. Sleep is one of the most effective ways to protect yourself from burnout and illness during a production.

2. Fuel Matters

If you're in a musical, there will likely come a rehearsal where you're expected to sing, dance, act, and think simultaneously. Usually several times. Possibly many, many times. The first combined  choreography-and-music rehearsal often feels less like art and more like an endurance event. Good nutrition helps maintain energy, concentration, vocal health, and recovery. This isn't the time to survive entirely on coffee and leftover concession stand candy.

3. Hydration Is Not Optional

Your voice is a physical instrument. Hydration supports vocal stamina, reduces vocal effort, helps preserve range, and assists recovery after heavy use. It also helps your entire body perform more effectively during long rehearsals. If you plan to sing, dance, project, and perform at your best, keeping a water bottle nearby becomes less of a suggestion and more of a lifestyle.

4. Rehearsal Doesn't End When Rehearsal Ends

This surprises many first-time performers. Rehearsals are where you learn the material. Home practice is where you retain it. When actors spend time outside rehearsal reviewing lines, music, blocking, and choreography, the production moves forward. When they don't, rehearsals become a cycle of relearning the same material over and over again. A little daily effort goes a long way. Thirty minutes a day may not sound like much, but over seven weeks it adds up to more than twenty-four hours of additional preparation.

5. A Show Becomes a Priority

When you accept a role, you are agreeing to make room for the production in your life. That doesn't mean abandoning your family, your job, or your other responsibilities. It simply means recognizing that, for a limited period of time, the show needs a meaningful share of your attention and energy. It also means making reasonable choices that protect your ability to participate. For example, the middle of a production may not be the ideal time to learn snowboarding. Or take up rollerblading. Or try bungee jumping. Because while an injury may not be the end of the world, it could be the end of a show. And as a general rule, crutches and choreography are not natural companions.

6. Tech Week Is Its Own Species

Everything you've done up to this point has been preparation. Tech week is where it all comes together. Costumes. Hair. Makeup. Props. Lights. Sound. Scene shifts. Quick changes. Full runs. Notes.  adjustments. And, of course, a significant portion of it now happens in the dark. The hours are longer. The stakes feel higher. Everyone is tired. Everyone wants the show to succeed. This is the point where self-care stops being a luxury and becomes a necessity. Get the latte. Buy the fancy tea. Use the good lotion. Paint your nails. Take the extra-long shower. Whatever helps you recharge, this is the week to do it.

7. Tell Your Family What's Coming

The people who love you deserve a heads-up. For a few weeks, you may be less available than usual. You may be distracted. You may spend evenings and weekends at the theater. That's normal. Make sure the important people in your life understand that your temporary obsession with a fictional world is exactly that: temporary. And when the show closes, remember to reconnect with the people who supported you through the process.

8. Expect High Highs and Low Lows

Theater is emotional. There will be moments when you feel brilliant. There will be moments when you feel completely overwhelmed. You may run the same scene, song, or dance number ten times in a row, even if your own performance is already solid. You may receive notes you don't agree with. You may be asked to make changes you don't understand. The collaborative nature of theater means individual success isn't enough. The entire group has to succeed together. That can be frustrating. It can also be one of the most rewarding lessons theater has to offer. 

9. Remember That Everyone Is Human

Yes, theater should be fun. And most of the time, it is. But almost nothing worthwhile is fun every  single moment. Even the perfect day at the lake comes with sunburn and mosquitoes. Community theater has its own version of sunburn and mosquitoes: stress, fatigue, frustration, and the occasional short temper. That doesn't make rudeness acceptable. Respect still matters. Professionalism still matters. Kindness still matters. But it does help to remember that everyone around you is carrying the same production stress you're carrying, plus whatever challenges exist in the rest of their lives. A little patience, a little grace, and a little tact can solve an astonishing number of problems.

So Why Do It?

After reading all of this, you might reasonably wonder why anyone signs up for theater in the first place. The answer is simple. Because somewhere between the late-night rehearsals, the missed dinners, the endless line memorization, the tech week exhaustion, and the occasional moments of panic, something magical happens. A group of strangers becomes a team. A script becomes a story. A collection of individual efforts becomes something none of those individuals could have created alone. And when the lights come up, the audience laughs, cries, applauds, and experiences that story with you, all of the hard work suddenly makes sense. The commitment is real. The sacrifices are real. The stress is real. But so is the joy. And for most theater people, that's why we keep coming back.

Dream Roles Aren't Always Lead Roles

We’ve spent some time discussing casting, auditioning, and the equal-but-different importance of principal and ensemble roles. And during almost every audition cycle, there are actors hoping to land the lead. That’s understandable. Lead roles are often the most visible, the most challenging, and the most celebrated. But after more than thirty years in theater, I’ve noticed something surprising. Some of the happiest actors I know aren’t chasing lead roles at all.

Ask a room full of new actors what role they want, and many will point to the lead. Ask a room full of theater veterans, and the answers become much more interesting. In fact, many experienced actors, including some exceptionally talented performers, aren’t necessarily hoping for the biggest role in the show. For those who are new to theater, that may come as a surprise. We often assume that the lead role is automatically the most desirable role. But theater, like life, is a little more complicated than that. Sometimes the most rewarding role in a production isn't the largest one. Sometimes it's the one that best fits your interests, your schedule, your personality, or your stage of life.

To illustrate the point, let’s talk about one of my favorite examples: King George in Hamilton. King George is not the lead. He isn't even one of the principal drivers of the plot. He appears for only a handful of scenes. Yet he is one of the most memorable and beloved characters in the entire show. His first song, “You'll Be Back,” was what hooked me on Hamilton in the first place. The audience loves him. The actor playing him usually has an absolute blast. And despite his limited stage time, he's often one of the characters people remember most. Now, not every supporting or ensemble role is as delightfully scene-stealing as King George. But smaller featured roles and ensemble parts often offer rewards that are easy to overlook.

Here are just a few reasons an experienced actor might intentionally audition for the ensemble rather than a principal role.

1. The Time Commitment Fits Better

This is perhaps the most practical reason. The larger the role, the larger the commitment. Lead actors often spend countless hours outside of rehearsal studying lines, memorizing music, practicing choreography, reviewing blocking, and refining character choices. Everyone in a production puts in work outside of rehearsal, but the workload isn't distributed equally. A principal role can become a second part-time job for several months. Sometimes an actor loves theater but simply doesn't have the time available for that level of commitment. An ensemble role allows them to stay involved, contribute meaningfully, and enjoy the production without sacrificing every free evening to rehearsal homework.

2. The Lead Isn't Always the Most Fun Character

The lead role carries responsibility. In many shows, the protagonist must carry the emotional weight of the entire story. They may spend two hours wrestling with tragedy, heartbreak, conflict, or impossible decisions. Meanwhile, somewhere nearby is the comic relief character getting all the laughs. Theater needs contrast. If every moment is dramatic, eventually nothing feels dramatic. Audiences need moments to breathe, laugh, and reset before the next emotional punch lands. Those supporting characters often become audience favorites. They may not drive the plot, but they frequently steal scenes. And let's be honest: being the person who gets to make an audience laugh can be tremendously satisfying.

3. The Ensemble Builds Extraordinary Friendships

One of the greatest gifts of community theater isn't applause. It's people. Ensemble members spend enormous amounts of time together. They rehearse group numbers repeatedly. They learn choreography together. They share dressing rooms, backstage jokes, costume mishaps, and countless inside references that make absolutely no sense to anyone outside the production. There's a unique bond that forms when you've run the same dance combination forty times in a row or waited together in the wings night after night. Some of the strongest friendships I've seen in theater were forged in ensemble rehearsals. Long after people forget who played the lead, they'll often remember the friendships they built along the way.

4. Life Changes—and So Do Theater Goals

Priorities evolve. Perhaps there was a time when you were eager to tackle every lead role that came along. Maybe you had fewer responsibilities, more free time, and endless energy. Then life happened. Careers grew. Families expanded. Relationships developed. Children arrived. Pets arrived. Other hobbies appeared. Sleep became more appealing. Yet the love of theater remained. For many experienced actors, ensemble roles provide the perfect balance. They can continue participating in an art form they love without asking theater to dominate every corner of their lives. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

5. Ensemble Roles Often Offer More Creative Freedom

This is one reason many veteran actors quietly adore ensemble work. Principal characters usually arrive with a great deal of information already provided by the script. We know their motivations. We know their relationships. We know their emotional journey. But ensemble characters? They're often wide open. The chorus member crossing the stage may have an entire life story that exists only in the actor's imagination. Perhaps the tavern keeper is hiding from a decades-old crime. Perhaps the barmaid was once a celebrated performer. Perhaps the newspaper boy bravely pushes through hardship every day just to support his family. Within the boundaries of the script and the director's vision, ensemble actors often have remarkable freedom to create fully realized people from very little information. And creating those stories can be enormously fun.

6. Sometimes the Role Fits Better Than the Recognition

Early in an actor's journey, it's natural to seek challenge, visibility, and recognition. Later, many actors begin looking for something different. Community. Flexibility. Balance. Joy. A role that fits comfortably into their life. A role they can perform well and feel proud of. A role that allows them to contribute to something larger than themselves. The "best" role isn't always the biggest role. Often, it's simply the role that is the right fit for that particular season of life.

Success Looks Different in Community Theater

One of the beautiful things about community theater is that success is defined much more broadly than who gets top billing. People participate for many reasons. They're learning new skills. They're serving their community. They're making friends. They're finding creative fulfillment. They're challenging themselves. They're simply having fun. Some of my happiest theatrical memories came from ensemble roles. Some of my closest friendships were formed while standing shoulder-to-shoulder with fellow cast members rather than carrying the weight of a principal role. In fact, ensemble actors often receive something that can be harder for principals to access: time.

Time to build relationships.

Time to laugh backstage.

Time to learn from others.

Time to enjoy the process itself.

Lead roles bring visibility, responsibility, and a unique kind of psychic income: the satisfaction that comes from being at the center of the story and receiving direct audience recognition. But ensemble roles offer their own rewards: camaraderie, flexibility, creative freedom, and shared accomplishment. Neither path is better. They're simply different. So, if you're auditioning and wondering whether you should check the box that says, "I'd accept any role," remember this: Dream roles aren't always lead roles. Sometimes the role you'll treasure most isn't the one with the most lines. Sometimes it's the one that gives you the most joy.