COMPENSATION: $15 - $40 per show depending on age, experience and pre-show service abilities.

Shadowbox Live will audition young actors (ages 8-18) for their world-premiere of Shadowbox Live’s original holiday musical “Cratchit”. We all know the story of Ebeneezer Scrooge, the wrinkled, stingy, and downright unpleasant man who cared more about money than people. But…what about his clerk, the overworked and underpaid Bob Cratchit? Taking place in the modern era and filled with a mixture of popular rock and holiday music, this Shadowbox original follows this unsung hero on that same fateful Christmas Eve. This poignant musical and use of humor will create a magical evening for all families to enjoy! 


Peter Cratchit (Cratchit’s oldest son) (Ages 14-17)
Belinda Cratchit (Cratchit’s oldest daughter) (Age 14-17)
Martha Cratchit (Cratchit’s youngest daughter-12) (Ages 8-13)
Tiny Tim  Cratchit (Cratchit’s youngest, crippled son 10)  (Ages 8-13)

The roles will have singing with some movement and lines. There is potential to double cast some roles so that actors will perform half of the shows. 

Shadowbox Live, the Largest Resident Theatre Company in America, employs over 45 full-time artists.  Presenting 4 different shows totaling 8-10 performances every week, Shadowbox Live is a professional theatre company. Although Shadowbox has a very aggressive educational component with the Shadowbox Academy, its important to note that it is not a Children’s Theatre. All those for consideration must exhibit maturity and responsibility commensurate with their age.  

AUDITION DATE:  Saturday, September 16th at 2PM. This is an open call, therefore no appointments will be taken in advance. Please sign up at the link below:


Additional information and the specific audition materials will be made available at that time. 

AUDITION LOCATION:  Shadowbox Live, 503 S. Front Street, Columbus, Ohio 43215

Resume and headshot are helpful - Acting experience preferred but not requisite
Please memorize the sides provided for the character you are auditioning.
Vocals: Please be prepared to sing the vocal side a cappella. We will be able to establish the key of the music. A short interview will take place as part of the callbacks.

Every year, the Theatre Roundtable hosts Unified Auditions to provide an opportunity for both amateur and professional actors to be seen by central Ohio producers and directors. The tradition continues this fall.

Audition Requirements: Those auditioning will have two minutes for their audition. This two minutes can be used however you would like: one monologue of considerable range; two contrasting monologues; one song of considerable range; a monologue and a song; etc. There will not be a dance audition.

Cost: There is a $10 fee to audition; that fee provides with you an audition slot and qualifies you to get a discounted $5 ticket to the Theatre Roundtable Awards. 

The deadline to sign up for auditions is Sunday, September 24th. We are accepting late registrations and walk-ups if there are available slots; however, the registration fee is $25 after September 24th, including the day of auditions, and you must provide 25 hard copies of your headshot and resume for producers. Any extra headshots and resumes will be given back to you.***

2017 Unified Auditions
When: 9/30/2017
Time: 2:00pm-5:30pm
Where: Columbus Performing Arts Center (CPAC) 549 Franklin Avenue
Columbus, OH 43215

For additional information (please read thoroughly) and to register, please visit the Unified Auditions page of the Theatre Roundtable website:

Please direct any questions to Andrew Protopapas at aprotopapas@catco.org

Craft Notes by Ed Hooks

Craft Notes: "Show them how it will be..."

Producer Glen Larson died  in Los Angeles last week (Nov. 14th) at age 77.  I was fortunate to know him and to be one of the character actors in his go-to list.  It is no exaggeration to say that, without Glen Larson, I might not have had a Hollywood career at all, and his death brings a rush of memories, some of which may be instructive for my students and readers.  Let me tell you how I landed my first job with Glen, on the TV show The Fall Guy.  It was 1981, and the auditions were held on the 20th-Century Fox lot.   It was a typically high-pressure situation, me plus ten other actors that looked like my twins sitting in a waiting room while the casting director called us in one by one.  Most of those other guys had a lot more TV experience than me, which was in itself intimidating.  I had been in LA for four years at that point but still listed on my resume more New York stage credits than TV or film.  My competitors were mostly already routinely working Guest Star roles.  But I pretended not to notice, burying my head in the script sides.

The role - I forget the character's name -  was a guy behind the counter of rural small-town liquor store, and the action in my scene included me taking a Lee Majors knock-out punch to the jaw.  The only biographical background I had on the character was that he was a Vietnam vet.  He talked non-stop, one of those annoying people who want to talk about anything at all, and don't know when to shut up.  That is what led to the knock-out punch.  Lee was knocking me out for my own good, to protect me from the episode's bad-guy who was standing next to him and getting progressively angry at what I was saying.  When it was my turn to audition, I entered with the casting director. Typical of movie-lot offices, the place looked more like a living room than an office, complete with sofas and a big coffee table. Half a dozen men  were lounging around when I entered, flipping through stacks of 8x10 glossies, and I waved and greeted everybody. 

They mumbled amiably in my direction, and the audition began.
It didn't go well.  I read the scene as if Arthur Miller had written it, trying to make my character as smart as I could.  Like I say, there were a lot of lines for a one-day role, and I justified every one of them.  After I finished, there was silence in the room and the auditors looked at one another.  One of them, who I would later learn was Glen Larson, said, "Did we write that?"  They assured him that they had indeed written it, even as awful as it was.  In that moment, my career turned a corner.  I knew from past auditions that the next words I would hear would be a polite and perfunctory, "Thanks very much.  Appreciate you coming in."  Something snapped inside me that roughly equated to a survival mode.  "Listen," I said, "Would you mind if I improv on the scene a little?  Do it again?"  The men deferred to the guy who was Glen who said, "Sure, go ahead. Do whatever you want." This kind of thing makes casting directors nervous because the actor is suddenly in charge of the room.  I admit that I enjoyed the sensation.

I tossed the sides on the coffee table, faced the casting director and made a bold acting choice, totally opposite of what I had done the first time.  Instead of justifying every line a la Death of a Salesman, I played it as a recluse basket case.  I added lines, chatted away with the casting director, who did not have a clue where I was going with this.  I took the one thing I knew about the character, being a Vietnam vet, and amplified it.  I decided I was working at a small town liquor store because I was too screwed up by Vietnam to be functional in civilized society.  I babbled on and made no sense at all, suddenly unable to make eye contact with other humans.  Somewhere mid-scene, I became aware that the men on the sofa were almost weeping with laughter, literally slapping their knees.  It crossed my mind that maybe I had gone too far, but it was too late to turn back now.  The casting director had given up all attempts to interact with me. Then, suddenly, it was all over and the room fell silent.  Glen wiped tears from his eyes, picked up a script and handed it to me.  "Yeah, that's it!  Do it like that!"  Still in a semi-shocked state of mind, I waved good-bye and returned to the waiting room, the casting director following behind me.  When we got out there, I asked her if there was going to be call-backs, and she said (...exact words, I'll never forget them), "No.  You got the part.  It's yours."

And that was how I got my first job for Glen Larson.  It also was the only time I ever had to audition for him.  During the following fifteen or so years, I worked a lot for him on various shows, and the drill was always the same.  My phone would suddenly start ringing off the hook:  "Glen Larson wants to know if you're available to go to Palm Springs (or Long Beach or Phoenix, whereever...) next week.  He's doing a pilot, and he has a role for you."  A short time later, the wardrobe department would call.   Half the time, I didn't even know what role I was playing until the wardrobe person called.  It was a wild experience.
Ours is an industry of relationships, and there is no "right" way for those relationships to be formed.  For me, it happened because I tossed caution out the window in an audition at 20th-Century Fox, in front of one of television's busiest producers.  Instead of trying to be what I thought they wanted to see, I showed them how the role would play if they cast me.  It is a practical lesson that you can take to the bank.

Glen's shows were never nominated for Emmy's.  Most of them were built around ideas that had previously shown up in feature films.  No matter.  They were immensely popular with the TV audience and, thanks to Glen Larson, I got to be a familiar face.  Ours is an industry built on relationships, and there is no "right" way to create them.  The take-away acting lesson from my experience is, "At an audition, do not try to be what you think they want to see.  Show them how it will be if they cast you."

9 Tips for Your First Time on Set By Matt Newton

Donnie Wahlberg and Richard Mason on the set of
the KILL POINT for SPIKE TV - 2007
Your first TV role. It’s nerve-wracking. Everything you have trained for has been working toward this. You get your call time, show up (after not much sleep), wait for hours sitting in your tiny trailer obsessing over your three lines waiting for them to call you. You are about to fall asleep, when the second AD finally knocks on your door and says, “We are ready for you!” and walks you to the location. Most actors have no idea what to expect when they walk onto a huge TV set for the first time. This isn’t a student film. 

There are dozens of people on the crew, and they already know each other. They are like a family, where everyone has a very specific job to help make you look good. Everyone expects you to know what you are doing. But the truth is, you have absolutely no idea. Nothing prepares you for the reality of being on a real set. There are so many things going on that it’s hard to focus on your acting. So how do you prepare yourself mentally? Here is what you need to know: 

1. You will probably only get one rehearsal. “What? But when I did ‘Grease’ in college I had 15 weeks of rehearsal.” Not anymore. If this is a one-hour drama or a single-camera comedy, you will most likely get one tiny little rehearsal, and you will be working with people you have never met before. You will say a brief hello to the director (who you probably saw at the callback), and who is extremely busy, and then you will run through the lines with the other actors at the location. They will discuss the blocking, talk briefly about the scene, and then do a “marking rehearsal,” where the crew comes in and they figure out where everyone will be standing so they can set up the lights. That’s right, dozens of eyes on you. Be confident and act like you have been doing this forever. 

2. Know your lines. Backwards and forwards. Inside and out. Nobody else will (which will be confusing to you, as they are getting paid so much more than you), but you must, as you are the guest, and you won this job over many, many actors. You can be replaced easily. They might change your lines, they might cut them. Be ready for anything, and don’t take it personally. There will be so many distractions on set (elaborate camera moves, trying to hit your mark, finding your light), and if you aren’t secure with the lines, you will waste valuable time (and light, and money). You will probably get one or two takes of your shot. If you mess up a line (please don’t), the script supervisor will shout out your line for you. They are your new best friend. 

3. Don’t change anything! When you show up on set, do exactly what you did in the audition and the callback, but be very open to direction. Don’t overthink it, and please don’t meet with a coach after you booked the job and suddenly make big changes to your character. It’s a “one and done” role, and you are there to serve the story, and that is your job. If your line is “More water for you, sir?” don’t come up with a detailed backstory about how you just found out your best friend died of cancer and suddenly decide you should be crying in your scene. READ: Everyone You Need to Know On Set 

4. It’s not about you. Four years of drama school? Nobody cares. Won the audience award at your hometown “film festival” for your performance as Stanley Kowalski in an updated “Streetcar” musical? Doesn’t matter. You are one of many small characters here to fill the world of this TV show.It’s about the series regulars, their storylines, and you are there as a peripheral character. As Harold Guskin said, “Don’t make a meal out of a snack.” Know your place in the hierarchy, be a total professional, don’t complain, and don’t overthink your lines. Nobody cares about your character’s backstory, or why Momma didn’t pay attention to you growing up. Don’t expect a standing ovation when you finish. Most of the crew are ready to go home and go to sleep. No feedback is good feedback. 

5. Look over your contract. In the chaos of a film set, actors hurriedly sign the contracts in their dressing rooms, assuming it’s right. I promise you, half the time it’s not. Look it over, make sure it’s what you and your agent agreed on in terms of rate and billing. 

6. Hit your marks. If you don’t, you will be out of focus. It’s that simple. They put colored tape marks on the ground so they can focus the camera on that particular spot. You want to be in focus when you get your big closeup, right? You are expected to hit that mark without looking at it. This takes skill. 

7. Know the shots. Pay attention to your frame. If it’s a closeup, don’t be a flailing chicken in your acting. If it’s a master shot, flail all you want. The other shots you need to know are “over the shoulder”, “handheld,” “two shot”, “medium closeup,” and “tight closeup.” Learn them. Master them. Knowing your frame will allow you to calibrate your performance accordingly and give the editor some great footage to choose from, and therefore better footage for your reel. 

8. Don’t complain. Say thank you to everybody. You’re tired, I get it. You’ve been waiting six hours to get to your scene. Don’t. Ever. Complain. You are so lucky to be there. Remember, everyone’s been there longer than you, especially the makeup artists. When you wrap, say thank you to everyone, especially the writer and director. They will work on other projects, and will remember your professionalism. They will also remember if you were a total diva and ruined everyone’s day. Send a “thank you” card to the casting director. They are the ones who brought you in in the first place. 

9. “Room tone” means shut up. I learned this the hard way. There’s a little button on the side of your phone that turns it to silent. Don’t be that guy. 

Matt Newton is an acting coach and Backstage Expert.