How Not To Cast Your Own Play
Some day, heavens willing, you will have a chance to either cast or to help cast one of your own plays. If your show plays on Broadway and you are a Dramatists' Guild member, you have the "technical" final say in the casting of your own show. Even when you're not on Broadway, however, most directors will allow you - if you are present for some or all of the rehearsal process - to help cast the show. After all, you can see the characters; you've had a vision of them since day one. Or, at least, we hope you have.
A surprisingly large number of playwrights - even good plawrights - have fallen into the trap of casting. For casting is a difficult art to conquer, and even the best directors make mistakes. How, then, can a playwright be any better? There are several pitfalls that even experienced playwrights can fall into, which I will outline below. Since many playwrights have never acted in, much less directed, a show, they find it difficult to break through to the heart of an actor reading a scene onstage. Even experienced casting directors have trouble, and yet playwrights are asked to step in and pick the "right" people (the concept of having only one actor that is right for a part is a common fallacy in and of itself.) This article, then, will hopefully help you whenever you are asked to cast your own show.
1. Casting By Type. Many playwrights have only a visual feel of their own characters. When casting Death of a Salesman, Arthur Miller vehemently opposed Lee J. Cobb because he had specifically written Willy Loman as a small man. Director Elia Kazan finally won Miller over, but his initial reaction showed his prejudice toward a type. A smaller actor may have been able to play Willy, of course, but by ruling out a larger actor because of type, Miller could have lost Cobb, who so embodied the role that the thousands of productions since have tried to simulate Lee J. Cobb more than they have tried to simulate Willy Loman. Type is a valuable tool when casting, but don't be so closed-minded that you rule out competent actors with a different look.
2. Casting Familiar Actors. By this I don't mean casting stars (that will be discussed later.) I mean casting actors familiar to the playwright. It has long been my belief that Neil Simon made a grave mistake casting his wife, Marsha Mason, in Chapter Two. True, the play was about him and her, but I think that that led to a certain noncommital on her part. Telling the story through his eyes rather than her own proved difficult for Ms. Mason, and rightfully so. I have also found many, many playwrights who have cast actors wrong for a part simply because they've worked together in the past. It's hard to forget the trouble Andrew Lloyd Webber caused AEA when he threatened to revoke the score of Phantom of the Opera if his wife, Sarah Brightman, didn't play Christine. Ms. Brightman turned out to be - in this writer's opinion - totally wrong for the part in America. And this rule doesn't apply only to spouses, it applies to all actors. Don't be afraid to try the new guy, particularly in professional theatre.
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