The Castmate Code: The Unspoken Rules of Being a Good Cast Member

Community theater can be a great experience: fun activities with new friends, the pride and joy that comes with putting on a great production, cool costumes...every show is a new adventure. The thing to remember is that you aren’t alone. There’s a whole host of folks who are part of the process, and like any good community, there is an unspoken social contract that helps make the experience good for everyone. The problem with an unspoken social contract is that it is, well, UNSPOKEN, so not everyone knows how to fulfill it. But I’m here today to raise the curtain on the mystery with a short list of tips on how to be a good cast member, no matter what role you have. Let’s begin at the beginning.

Be on time.
Rehearsals and shows are a huge time commitment. If you are late, it delays the rehearsal process, extends the time commitment, and often wastes other people’s time because material has to be repeated. And believe me, if you have ever been in a show, you know there is more than enough repetition already! “One more time” never means just one more time. It’s about as accurate as a doctor saying, “This will only hurt a little.” Be on time and ready to rehearse at the scheduled time. That may mean arriving 10 minutes early to change shoes, hydrate, get settled, and warm up. Being on time is respectful and responsible, both imperatives to being a good cast member (much less a good human being!).

Be off book early!
For reference, “off book” means being fully memorized and no longer needing to use the script on stage. The faster you get your face out of the script, the faster you can discover genuine eye contact, dynamic blocking, spontaneous reactions, and real chemistry with your scene partners. That’s where the stage magic happens.

Carry a pencil and take notes.
Never assume you will remember a director’s note or a specific piece of staging because, believe me, you won’t. Keep a pencil handy during every rehearsal so you can immediately write down your blocking, your blocking changes, changes to the blocking changes, pronunciation corrections, emotional beats, and more blocking changes directly into your script. Theater is dynamic. As you uncover more character nuance, your stage business and blocking may change to accommodate it. Keep your notes updated so you always know how the scene is currently staged, not how it was staged three Tuesdays ago.

Do not direct other actors.
The job of directing belongs to the director. Even if you have a brilliant idea for another actor’s performance, keep it to yourself unless you are specifically asked. Giving unsolicited notes to fellow cast members can create tension, confuse the director’s vision, and undermine the rehearsal process. Not to mention that it is disrespectful to your fellow actors. Your job is to focus on your own character, your own choices, and your own responses. Respect your castmates and your director by allowing them to do their jobs.

Treat the crew like royalty.
A production cannot happen without stage managers, light and sound techs, costumers, dressers, prop crews, set crews, and everyone else working behind the scenes. Treat them with respect. Listen to your stage manager. Be where you’re supposed to be when you’re supposed to be there. Say thank you. Besides being the decent thing to do, this is how you maximize the fun factor of your show. Many a stray straight pin from a disrespected costumer has derailed someone’s journey.

If it is not yours, don’t touch it.
This is a really important rule to live by in theater. Actors and crew members preset props and costumes in specific places and in specific ways for a reason. If you pick something up to look at it, move it out of the way, or “helpfully” put it away, you may have just inadvertently sabotaged a stage moment. Maybe that garment was laid out in a certain direction to facilitate a quick change. Perhaps that prop is sitting in a certain place at a certain angle because someone has to grab it on the fly. Maybe the actor simply doesn’t have time to get to the prop table and back. The point is, you don’t know. Trust that the actor or crew member who put it there had a reason. And what if, heaven forbid, you accidentally break it? Now you’ve added a whole new dimension of stress and expense. Since you can never know for sure how someone else’s costume, prop, or equipment is supposed to be set, the best rule of thumb is simple: If it is not yours, don’t touch it.

Come prepared.
This is related to being off book, but it’s broader. Know what was rehearsed last time. Review your music, choreography, blocking, and lines between rehearsals. Bring your script, shoes, water, pencil, and whatever else you’ve been asked to have. Rehearsal is not where you repeatedly relearn what everyone else has already learned. Rehearsal is where you are given the building blocks: blocking, choreography, stage business, music, character work. Later rehearsals refine and build on those things. Practice is what you do at home: memorizing, drilling, reviewing, and preparing so your foundation is ready for the next layer at the next rehearsal.

Don’t make everything about you and your stage time.
One of the biggest differences between a wonderful castmate and an exhausting one is whether they understand that a show is an ensemble endeavor. Sometimes you wait. Sometimes someone else’s scene gets worked for an hour. Sometimes your favorite bit gets cut because it isn’t helping the show. Sometimes another actor gets the laugh. Sometimes somebody else gets the big number, the beautiful costume, the dramatic moment, or the applause. The goal is not for you to be great. The goal is for the show to be great. And when everyone understands that, everybody gets better.

Help, but don’t “help.”
There is a lovely distinction here. Absolutely help strike the rehearsal room. Move chairs when asked. Clean up after yourself. Ask whether the stage manager needs a hand. But don’t reorganize props, fix somebody else’s costume, change scenery, adjust equipment, or decide you’ve discovered a better system without talking to the person responsible for it. Good castmates make other people’s jobs easier. They don’t create surprise projects for them.

And lastly...

Leave the drama on the stage.
Not in the sense that casts can never have disagreements – actors are human after all. Put enough people in a rehearsal room for six weeks and eventually somebody is going to get on somebody else’s nerves. But gossip, grudges, romantic drama, casting resentment, cliques, passive aggression, and personality conflicts can poison a production remarkably quickly. You don’t have to become best friends with everyone in the cast. You don’t have to socialize together outside rehearsal. You don’t even have to particularly like everyone. You do have to be someone everyone can safely and comfortably work with. Because ultimately, being a good cast member isn’t about having the best voice, landing the biggest role, getting the most laughs, or even giving the best performance. It’s about understanding that for a few weeks, you are part of a community of people trying to build something together.

Do your homework. Show up prepared. Respect other people’s time, work, belongings, and boundaries. Support the people around you. Take responsibility for your little piece of the production and do it as well as you can. That’s the social contract. And when everyone holds up their end of it, something pretty wonderful happens: a collection of actors, technicians, volunteers, costumes, props, scenery, music, nerves, mistakes, inside jokes, and countless hours of work somehow becomes A SHOW. And even better, it becomes a show people are glad they were part of.

 

The Lobby has Ears

Theater is a lot of fun, but it is not all sunshine and unicorns. Disappointment is part of theater. You won't get every role you want. You won't agree with every casting decision. You won't love every production you see. Sometimes you'll dislike the script, hate the ending, question the director's choices, or sit in the audience absolutely convinced you would have done something differently. And that's okay. Art is subjective from start to finish. Not every production, performance, design choice, or directorial decision is going to connect with every person. You are absolutely entitled to your opinion. But there is something worth remembering before you share it: The lobby has ears.

You have every right to dislike a show. You can think a particular performance didn't work. You can think the costumes were ugly, the set was weird, the pacing dragged, or Act I was forty minutes too long. You can disagree with the casting. You can even privately believe that you would have been better in a particular role. You do not owe anyone false praise. But you do owe the people around you a little awareness of where you are.

Community theater is, quite literally, made by your community. The person standing behind you in the lobby may be the director's husband. The woman washing her hands next to you in the restroom may have designed the costumes. The teenager waiting for a cookie at intermission may have spent three weekends helping build the set. The stranger standing within earshot may be the actor's coworker, teacher, best friend, mother, or child. And the actor whose performance you're loudly dissecting may be standing ten feet away. In community theater especially, there may be only one or two degrees of separation between virtually everyone in the building. You don't have to pretend you loved something you didn't. But the lobby, restroom, concession line, or parking lot immediately outside the theater may not be the ideal location for the full unabridged review. Save the detailed critique for the car.

And definitely don't do it during the show.  There is another person in the equation who may have absolutely nothing to do with the production: the patron sitting next to you. They bought a ticket too. Maybe they're loving the show you hate. Maybe this is their daughter's first time onstage. Maybe they've been looking forward to this night for weeks. Maybe they're completely immersed in the story until the person behind them starts whispering about how terrible someone's accent is. There is a difference between having an opinion and making another person's theatrical experience collateral damage for it.

Years ago, we had an actor who was deeply unhappy about a casting decision. She had wanted a particular role, wasn't cast, and came to see the production. Unfortunately, she didn't leave her disappointment at the door. During the performance, she openly criticized the production, the casting, the director, and especially the actor who had received the role she wanted. She also unknowingly happened to be sitting directly behind that actor's extended family. So, yes. We heard about it. All of it. Her commentary didn't change anyone's opinion of the casting decision. It didn't make the other actor less deserving of the role. What it did provide was some unexpected insight into how this person responded when another actor received an opportunity she wanted. And in theater, that matters. And in theater, that matters.

Casting isn't only about who can sing the highest note, give the funniest line reading, or deliver the best monologue. (You can refresh yourself on that particular rabbit hole in our June 1 blog, Casting a Show.) Directors are building an ensemble. They need people who can collaborate, take direction, handle frustration, celebrate each other's successes, and support the person who did get the role. Not getting a role you wanted can genuinely hurt. You may be disappointed, angry, embarrassed, confused, or convinced the director made the wrong decision. Those feelings are real, and you are allowed to have every one of them. But the actor who got the role didn't take it away from you. They auditioned, just like you did. Someone else made the casting decision. That actor deserves the opportunity to enjoy the role they earned without being diminished because someone else wanted it too.

Of course, casting disappointment isn't the only kind of criticism that can spill into the lobby. Maybe you're an audience member who simply didn't enjoy the show. Maybe you worked on the production and disagree with decisions that were made. Maybe you thought your friend's performance was fantastic but didn't care for anyone else's. Maybe you've done the same show before and are absolutely certain your production did it better. Have the opinion. Just choose the audience for it. That includes being careful with the seemingly harmless backhanded compliment:

“Well, you were great. I don’t know why you weren’t the lead.”

Or:

“You were my favorite. The rest of the show was...interesting.”

Those may be intended as compliments, but they come at someone else’s expense. And in a crowded lobby, you never know who just heard the other half of what you said.

Criticism immediately following a performance is also a particularly vulnerable moment. Actors have just poured themselves onto a stage. Crew members have been working in the dark. Volunteers have spent hours making the evening happen. Directors may be watching weeks or months of work come to fruition. Friends and families are waiting excitedly in the lobby. There will be plenty of time for thoughtful criticism later; in that moment, a little grace goes a long way.

That doesn't mean criticism is forbidden. Criticism isn't disloyalty. You don't have to love every Hamilton Players show. You don't have to agree with every casting decision. You don't have to think every actor was wonderful. You don't even have to think you wouldn't have been better in the role. And if you have genuine feedback you want the theater to hear, tell us. Thoughtful criticism can be valuable, especially when it's shared with someone who can actually do something with it. That's very different from broadcasting a running review to everyone within earshot.

And sometimes you aren't offering feedback at all. Sometimes you just didn't like the show and want to talk about it. That's okay, too. Talk about it over coffee tomorrow. Analyze it with your spouse on the drive home. Discuss what worked and what didn't with your theater friends. Have thoughtful conversations about directing, acting, design, scripts, casting, and artistic choices. Those conversations are part of loving theater, too. There is a time, a place, and an audience for all of it. Just remember that criticism doesn't become more valid because it is delivered loudly, immediately, or within earshot of the people it concerns.

Theater is collaborative. It is also remarkably intimate. In a community theater, the line between audience and artist is especially thin. Tonight's patron may be next season's actor. The person building the set may be sitting beside you at the next show. The actor you're criticizing may direct you someday. Or none of those things may ever happen, and kindness and discretion are still worthwhile. Your opinion about the art is yours. What you do with that opinion tells people something about you.

So critique freely. Disagree thoughtfully. Be disappointed when you're disappointed. You don't have to love everything that happens onstage. Just remember where you are. Because the curtain may be closed. But the lobby has ears.

Theater Etiquette, Part 2 of 2: The Things Nobody Tells You

 A week or two ago, we talked about some of the basics of theater etiquette: arrive on time, put away the phone, don't talk during the performance, remember that there are people sitting behind you, and please, for reasons I still cannot believe require explanation, keep your shoes on. But there are other pieces of theater etiquette that aren't quite so obvious. In fact, calling them "etiquette" might make them sound more formal than they really are. They're mostly little customs regular theatergoers pick up along the way. But if nobody has ever told you about them, how would you know? So consider this Theater Etiquette, Part 2: The Things Nobody Tells You.

If you need to leave, timing matters.

Sometimes you have to get up during a performance. Nature calls. A coughing fit starts. Some emergency crops up. It happens. If you can comfortably wait for a natural break in the action, that's usually the best time to slip out. If you can't, quietly make your exit.  Coming back in can be a little more complicated.

Opening the auditorium door or walking back to your seat during the show can be incredibly distracting to both the actors and the audience. Actors may also be unexpectedly using the aisles or entrances. So please follow the direction of the Front of House staff or House Manager. They may postpone your reentry for a few minutes until there's an appropriate moment to return to your seat, often during a scene change or applause break. They're not trying to punish you or keep you from seeing the show. They're trying to get you back to your seat with the least amount of disruption possible and keep you from inadvertently becoming part of the show yourself.

You don't have to know when to clap.

People who don't attend theater often tend to worry about this one: "When am I supposed to applaud?" The answer? Whenever it feels right! In a musical, audiences frequently applaud after songs. In other productions, applause may come after a scene or a particularly wonderful moment. Sometimes an audience is so caught up in what's happening that nobody makes a sound. Laugh when something is funny. Gasp when something surprises you. Applaud when you're moved to applaud. You don't have to know some secret theater code. Live theater is meant to have a live audience. We love knowing you're out there, and genuinely reacting to the story unfolding onstage is one of the best ways to show it.

A standing ovation isn't mandatory.

Sometimes a performance brings an audience immediately to its feet. Sometimes a few people stand and others remain seated. Sometimes everyone stays seated and applauds enthusiastically. All of those are perfectly okay. A standing ovation has traditionally been one of an audience's highest expressions of appreciation: the theatrical equivalent of saying, That was extraordinary. That's part of what makes receiving one so meaningful to performers. When an entire audience rises to its feet, it can be an incredibly powerful moment for the people standing onstage. And that's also why you shouldn't feel obligated to stand simply because the person next to you did. A standing ovation is supposed to be an expression of genuine enthusiasm, not the final required activity of the evening. If a performance makes you want to leap to your feet, by all means, stand! If you loved the show and want to remain comfortably seated while applauding enthusiastically, do that. Save the standing O for the moments that make you want to stand. That's what makes it such an extraordinary compliment when it happens.

Curtain call is still part of the show.

We know you want to beat the crowd to the parking lot. But unless you genuinely need to leave, stay through the curtain call. Those bows are the performers' opportunity to step out of the characters they've inhabited for the last couple of hours and acknowledge the audience. They're also often the audience's only opportunity to recognize the entire company, including ensemble members whose work may not have received an individual moment during the performance. And in community theater, those bows can mean a great deal. Applause is quite literally the only payment most of those actors will receive.

That person taking a bow may be performing in their very first show. They may have spent six weeks rehearsing after working all day. Their family may be seeing them onstage for the first time. They may have spent the entire production moving scenery in the dark, changing costumes at lightning speed, or singing harmonies you barely noticed but absolutely would have noticed if they weren't there. Give them those last couple of minutes. Besides, nobody wants to be the person who starts the mass exodus. The parking lot will still be there in three minutes. Curtain call won't. And yes, actors can be fragile creatures. Sometimes they need that Sally Field moment: You like me! You really like me!

Intermission is for talking!

After all this discussion about being quiet, here's the good news: at intermission, talk to your heart's content. Talk about what you loved. Ask your companions what they think. Debate what might happen next. Explain something that confused your child. Go find someone you know and tell them you're having a great time. Just be careful about spoilers. If you've seen the show before or know the story, remember that the person standing beside you at concessions may not. Nobody wants to hear, "Just wait until you find out the butler did it!" while buying a cookie.

Please don't call out to someone you know onstage.

This is one of those uniquely community-theater temptations. You know that person! It's your coworker! Your neighbor! Your kid's teacher! Your best friend! And suddenly there they are, walking onto the stage. Resist the urge to yell their name or wave at them. The fact that you know the actor is wonderful. Cheer loudly for them at curtain call. Tell them afterward how much you enjoyed seeing them. But while the performance is happening, they're trying very hard not to be your coworker, neighbor, teacher, or friend. They have spent weeks learning lines, rehearsing, developing a character, and working toward this moment. For the next two hours, let them be somebody else. This is particularly important during youth productions. It can be incredibly tempting to wave at a child you know or try to get them to acknowledge you from the stage. But they've worked hard to learn the same skills we're asking of our adult actors, including staying focused and remaining in character. Don't undermine all that hard work by distracting them or encouraging them to break character. They know you're there. You can make a HUGE fuss over them afterward.

Close enough to touch doesn't mean interactive.

Actors sometimes enter through the audience, perform in aisles, or end up very close to patrons. Unless the production makes it clear that audience interaction is invited, continue watching just as you would if the actor were onstage. Don't grab them, talk to them, hand them something, or try to make them break character. They're close to you because that's where the staging put them, not necessarily because they've invited you into the scene.

Backstage is still backstage.

After the show, you may be excited to congratulate someone you know in the cast. Please don't go looking for them backstage unless you've specifically been invited. Immediately after a performance, backstage can be surprisingly busy. Actors are changing clothes and removing microphones. Props and costumes are being put away. Crew members may be resetting things for the next performance. And sometimes actors simply need a few minutes to come down from the experience before greeting people. But there's another reason backstage access matters: it is shared space.

The dressing room doesn't belong only to the person you came to see. It may be shared by ten, twenty, or thirty other performers who are changing clothes, fixing costumes, gathering their belongings, talking through something that happened during the performance, or simply decompressing. Bill may be delighted to see Aunt Mary backstage. That doesn't mean the other fifteen people changing clothes in the same room are delighted to see Aunt Mary. Backstage and dressing rooms are both working spaces and personal spaces. That's why "Cast and Crew Only" signs really do mean Cast and Crew Only.

If performers are coming out to greet the audience, give them a little time. They'll find you. And when they do, you can tell them how fabulous they were without accidentally meeting half the cast in their underwear. Everybody wins.

Be aware of the space you're sharing.

Theater seats can be cozy, especially in older or smaller venues. Try to keep coats, bags, and other belongings within your own space and out of the aisles. You might even consider how much baggage you'll need to "store" before you leave the house. Be mindful of armrests and the people sitting beside you. And because many people are sharing a relatively small room for a couple of hours, going easy on strong fragrances is a kindness to people who may be sensitive to them. None of this requires perfection. It just requires a little awareness of the people around you.

Most theater etiquette isn't really about theater.

That's probably the biggest secret. There isn't an elaborate rulebook experienced theatergoers have memorized. Most theater etiquette comes down to one simple idea: you're sharing a space and an experience with other people. You're sharing the room with the audience around you. You're sharing the story with the actors performing it. You're sharing the experience with people who may have waited months to see this particular show. And unlike a movie, every performance is temporary. Tonight's audience will never gather in exactly the same way again. The actors will never give precisely the same performance again. The laughs will land differently tomorrow. A quiet moment may feel completely different with another audience. That's part of the magic. So laugh. Applaud. React. Enjoy yourself. Talk about it at intermission. Tell the actors afterward that you loved seeing them. And if you didn't love it? Maybe wait until you're in the car. Because the lobby has ears. …but that's a blog for another time.