Vol. XX No. 8
May 2005
At Drama Showcases, Actors Make Connections

By MAHIRA KAKKAR

It's that time of year again. The birds are chirping, the snow has melted, the sun's coming out, girls are airing their short skirts … and drama students around the country are doing showcases for talent scouts and entertainment industry purveyors.

What is a drama showcase, you might well ask. Well, it's a unique and unforgettable experience. Every spring, drama schools showcase the talents of their graduating actors for entertainment industry professionals—agents, managers, casting directors, and directors. Each actor usually does one or two, two-minute scenes; based on these, they are called in for interviews by the members of the industry. The main goal for the actors is to gain a powerful agent, who has access to powerful casting directors, who have access to powerful directors, who have access to powerful producers, and so on. Actors may get calls for auditions as well; the showcase is essentially a vehicle for making connections and starting out strongly in the business.

Mahira Kakkar in Shakespeare's Love's Labour's Lost at Juilliard in 2004. (Photo by Jessica Katz)
Juilliard, with its fine reputation, obviously attracts much attention from the industry—and consequently all our graduating actors, whether they admit it or not, feel the pressure.

I went through this experience a year ago; looking back on it now, it feels like it was a dream. I know it was real, because I have agents working for me as a result (and thank God for the legitimacy that gives me as an actor in New York)—but it was definitely surreal.

My class, Group 33, was so revved up about it. We were going to look our best, act our best, strut our stuff in front of all these industry people—and someone (or several) would fall in love with us and our careers would be set. Sort of. Well, maybe a little set. Or not. Set. At all. Shudder, gulp.

So, we picked our acting partners and the two-minute scenes we wanted to do in front of America's most renowned industry professionals … and then promptly changed them. We agonized over what clothes and makeup to wear, which hairstyle would suit us. Suddenly we were all stepping up to the bar in ways that we hadn't before.

I remember snippets of things people arbitrarily said to me. I was told by a recent, successful alum: "Just look glamorous, doll; be hot and sexy and they'll love you. Oh, and be funny. No drama. You can't do drama at showcases."

One classmate said, "I hate this. I hate this whole process. This is not art."

Another one: "This is so exciting; after four years of intensive work, we're finally beginning our careers!"

And a third: "Well, I only want to work with black people, because I'm only going to be playing those roles and that's what I identify with."

If this was the culmination of our time at Juilliard, a major milestone in our acting lives, and we didn't get a response from the industry, wasn't that a gauge of our talent and how our careers would unfold?

The actual event—which took half an hour—went by so fast that the prep seemed ludicrous. We performed on a stark, bright stage, and we were on and off before you could blink.

And then came the real drama.

What I remember about the scenario was that it had so little to do with acting. We got our responses the next day—each of us, in an individual, shiny folder (a major improvement from years ago, when lists would be posted publicly in the halls for all to see). We had requests for headshots, résumés, and meetings.

It was a whirlwind thereafter of writing letters, meeting people, making the rounds of casting directors' offices—for those who were fortunate. Juilliard sets up its actors very well, but it cannot protect them from the jolt of transitioning from a training program to the real world. Some were not so fortunate. They were brilliant actors, but because of the material they had chosen or the way they looked, they didn't get the response they wanted from the industry.

One was too Asian, one too womanly. I remember talking to crying colleagues who thought their careers were over because some industry people had judged their entire acting range and set of skills in two meager minutes and didn't care to find out more.

I wanted to tell them about Laura Linney and Camryn Manheim—brilliant, award-winning actresses, who had gotten no response from their showcases but went on to have great careers. But I knew my friends were not in a state to hear this.

It was interesting to see how the industry reacted to us. Suddenly there were categories, based on marketability, that came into focus. Those who were overtly good-looking, funny, and charming attracted much interest. Those undeniably talented (as I thought we all were; I mean, come on, we went to Juilliard, for crying out loud!) also did well. I remember being told by an agent, "Your ethnicity is hot. Indian is in."

But there were those who were just ignored, and it was heartbreaking.

The showcase was also a touchstone of our worth as holistic actors. How were we going to respond, in the wake of the attention we were getting (or not getting)? Were we going to be the kind of actors who bought into the mindlessness of one-upmanship, or were we going to be generous and support each other through what was a harrowing process for all? After the New York showcase, we still had plays to perform together as a class, before we headed off to Los Angeles to repeat the experience in sunnier climes.

Sadly, an actor showcase is not an ensemble-building exercise. On the whole, we didn't quite make it under fire. Yes, we did the work. But after graduating, I think I can safely report that not many of us would wish to work together again.

When I speak to some of the colleagues I am still in touch with a year later, we laugh at what we put ourselves through. We also know that, whatever happened then, we are going to be all right. From the person who signed a contract with a major television network, to the person who thought she would never work again, we are all now pretty much on the same level; actors with agents, working on our burgeoning careers.

As I was writing this article, I spoke to some members of this year's graduating drama class, and was impressed by their insights. Mauricio Salgado, a brilliant and passionate actor, talked about how he felt the whole showcase experience was a Catch-22. "You're trained at Juilliard to perform as an ensemble, and one wants to serve the story as a performer, but at the showcase there is no story to serve. You're doing bits of scenes; the whole point is for actors to showcase themselves—which ruins the reason one performs."

Rebecca Brooksher, a lovely and talented actress, said, "Industry people keep talking about where we think we fit in. Agents tell me that the market is saturated by my "type"; what
is my type? I don't know what that means. What I know is that I can do what I do well. But it seems as if everyone else is in charge of my career. I feel like a product, and I need to find some control for my own sanity."

Salgado talked about the lack of imagination on the part of the industry, and pointed out that anyone can get lucky in a two-minute time frame. "What matters, I think, is the consistency of your work—are you able to hold it over the course of a play? This experience has made me think about the integrity of my work. The positive part is that, in retrospect, whether the experience is good or bad, it can help you define your own taste."

Continues Salgado, "The best art is done selflessly—and the showcase, by its very nature, has skewed our group and created turmoil. Some people feel that they've failed. Before we head to L.A., people are scrambling for new scenes and new partners." The experience, he adds, calls for a new skill: the skill of auditioning itself, not just working on a play.

I look at these two actors with admiration. They are talking about this so candidly—pointing out what can be changed. I don't know if I would have been able to, a year ago.

I try to talk to James Seol, another graduating actor—but he doesn't want to talk about his experiences, lest he be drawn back into the despair he felt immediately after the showcase.

I want to tell these three actors that I understand what they are going through. And I want to tell them that it's all right not to know what the future will bring. Sometimes that uncertainty makes one stronger. This is just the beginning.

My first year out of school has been as much about defining taste as it has been about realizing that I am in this for the long haul. Being an actor is like being a long-distance runner. This is a marathon, not a sprint. And success is not immediate; one has to stay standing for the good things to come one's way. I want to tell this year's class so many things. But I realize they need to figure this out for themselves. And I look at their eyes, which seem far-seeing and focused on the future, and I have no doubt that they will.

Mahira Kakkar graduated from the Drama Division in 2004.



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