Actor’s Corner: Nailing a Part With No Preparation

The time will come when you will you expecting a production of Our Town but only moments before the curtain goes up, a clearly frazzled director will leap from the stage apron to your row and beg you to take the role of George Gibbs. You will chuckle to yourself and decline politely. Then the director will take a knee and beg you, explaining he can spot a George Gibbs from a mile away and that he needs you because in an act of gross oversight he failed to cast the character. You will tell him you are indeed flattered, but still, you cannot. At this point, audience members around you will begin to say encouraging things. One stern man will yell that only queers don’t like the theatre. This will start a slow clap and the director will take you by the hand and lead you backstage.

This will happen. It’s important you don’t fuck it up. People paid good money to see a production and now this is your problem. Only moments ago you were so like them: not expecting to be George Gibbs. However, the theatre has no time for your expectations.

Note: the following advice is universal and does not pertain specifically to the character of George Gibbs or Our Town at all, for that matter. In fact, I never liked Our Town. It’s like, I get it Thornton Wilder, everybody dies. I didn’t need a 3 Act play to tell me that. I mean, mad props for getting a Pulitzer for Drama. That’s really impressive. And I mean that sincerely. I even like the idea of the narrator breaking the fourth wall but still, this shit is boring.

People are easily impressed by accents.
Just talk with an accent. Just make sure it’s an accent that’s different than the rest of the characters. It adds another level to the character because clearly he is an outsider and that makes him mysterious. Is your character running from the law? Perhaps he was heavily involved in the sex slave business? These are the questions the audience will ask if you have an accent. Just those two questions, though.

Your character should have a mustache.
Mustaches allow you complete anonymity. This is good for two reasons: on one hand, it allows you a chance for some theatrics at the end of the play when you remove your moustache and everyone gasps at your true identity and two, if you totally bomb your part people will be looking for a guy a mustache to provide some constructive criticism for. As an actor, receiving constructive criticism is an unspeakable shame. If you already have a mustache (perhaps because you’re an accomplished actor that expects roles to be thrown at him) put a bigger, fake mustache on top of your regular mustache. If you are a woman and have a mustache, do not put on a bigger mustache. Not like it you’d get the chance to act in anything; ain’t no motherfucker going to ask you to be in a play if you’re some lady with a moustache.

Distinct physical abnormalities show skill.
Hannibal Lector was creepy because he didn’t blink. Using this logic, your character should just be crippled. Unless there is another character in the play that is already crippled. In which case, you should be at least three times as crippled as he is. You might have to be creative, though. If another character is wheelchair-bound, it’s going to be hard to out cripple that. If your character was dragged around by a belt tied to his arms pulled by the dogs, that just might out-do wheelchair.