So, at the top of my wish list for POV has always been UDK casting associate Andy Henry. Andy has a stellar reputation as a very actor-friendly casting professional and he has worked at one of the busiest TV casting offices on the planet for nearly a decade. I know so little about the episodic casting process that tapping into Andy’s POV was as fun for me as I hope it will be for you!
Casting the Snapshot
Every so often I get asked the question… the big question… the ultimate question of casting. No, it is not: “Do you like postcards?” or, “What are your pet peeves?” (“They are fine,” and, “That question,” by the way). It is: “What do you REALLY look for in the room? How do you REALLY cast a part?” Okay, so technically that’s two questions.
In truth, I struggled for a long time to put into words what I look for an actor to do in the audition, other than just: “Be good.” I could talk in terms of pacing, of knowing the show, and of having done the homework for the scene — and those are all ingredients — but I was never able to distill it down to the core “it.”
And then…
I was watching TV one night (Hey, it’s part of my job, really!)… the second episode of Studio 60 to be specific. And there, in Aaron Sorkin’s words, was the best explanation I have heard. The scene went like this:
Harriet: I got a laugh at the table read when I asked for the butter in the dinner sketch. I didn’t get it at the dress. What did I do wrong?
Matt: You asked for the laugh.
Harriet: What did I do at the table read?
Matt: You asked for the butter.
That, in a nutshell, is what I want an actor to do when he/she comes in for me. Ask for the butter. I don’t want to see you acting. I don’t want to see you trying to get the job or to get a specific reaction from me, from my producers, or even from yourself. Certainly, I don’t want to see you trying to impress me.
It is a natural temptation for actors, for anyone, to really push for what they want. You finally get your chance to audition for a big casting office, for a role on a big show, you want to go out there and show that casting director that you can really act, that you can do anything.
Congratulations, you just lost that job, and failed 100% to impress anyone. Moreover, you probably came across as a desperate novice or worse, an untalented over-actor. Let your training and the work you have put into the scene and the words on the page be enough. Have the confidence that you don’t need to prove it to me; you are, for those few moments, simply that character. Be in the scene, don’t act it. Don’t ask for the laugh; ask for the butter.
This goes hand in hand with part two: What it is that I actually do on this show (other than deal with mounds of paperwork and endless pitch calls). I cast snapshots. On CSI, we tell a detailed, complicated story in 44 minutes. Much of that time is given to the series regulars and recurring characters; some of it goes to the show itself — the process shots that helped to put procedurals on the map a few years ago. The rest goes to the guest cast, 15 to 20 characters.
Some have long scenes; most have only a few lines. All are defined as much by how they look, how they sound, how they move (in short, how they “feel”) as by what they say and how they say it. If you, as an audience member, hit pause on your TiVo before a character even opens his or her mouth, you should have some idea of who they are: their economic class, their state of mind, their place in the story. If the first glance does not tell you anything, or does not tell you the right thing, then it is either because we are intentionally adding to the mystery, or because we have not done our job well enough.
And so I look for that in the room. The snapshot. The look and the feel and the sound of an actor long before he/she begins to act. I have seen numerous instances where an actor is quite wonderful in his/her choices, technique, etc., but quite simply does not fit the role well enough. We can tweak parts, tell the story in a slightly different (or sometimes radically different) way, but in the end, the story is supreme and if an actor does not fit, it does not matter how good the reading is.
So, go into the room with that confidence. You are right for it or you are not. That part of things is out of your control. Go in with choices that are strong, and that are right for you as an actor, for your character in this scene, and the show as a whole. Dress the economic class and the situation of your character (but NO costumes, PLEASE), do your homework about the words and the characters in your scene, but don’t lose yourself in the process.
Assume for the moment that you are right for the role. Go into the room, let the words come out of your mouth however they want to, and show me the best, most “real” take you have on that character. In short, ask for the butter. Let me play with it a little if I like. Then say thanks and leave. Know that you will get it or you won’t, but that I define good acting as when I, on a gut level, don’t see you acting. I remember the ones who can do that; those are the actors who impress me.
Love it, love it, love it! This is one of the most relevant POV installments I’ve seen. The “ask for the butter” advice is brilliant. And it applies to every casting scenario. But the “snapshot casting” issue seems unique to episodic situations and I think it makes so much sense. I challenge every reader to use that pause button on the TiVo remote and do a quick mental character analysis of the person on-screen. And then do it for yourself! What’s your snapshot? What shows tend to cast that type of image? Do your homework and rock the room! Thanks, Andy, for an excellent POV.
About Andy Henry
Nearly half the states in this country have a town named Clinton, and Andy Henry grew up in the smallest of them (in Western Montana). He moved to Los Angeles to attend USC where he studied Aerospace Engineering before switching over to Theatre. Out of college, Andy got a job as a talent assistant at Pakula/King and Associates. He then went to work in casting, first for Rick Millikan on The X-Files and Sabrina the Teenage Witch in early 1998. After a few months there, hiatus hit and he needed a new job. As he tells it, he had been stalking the folks at Ulrich/Dawson/Kritzer for months. He started working for Carol Kritzer on June 1, 1998. In his nine years with UDK, Andy has worked on features, pilots, and over 400 episodes of television.
This contribution originally ran at Bonnie Gillespie’s online column on June 1, 2007.