Why do we see the same faces on stage and what are the risks involved in having new ones?
When you think about Australian professional theatre in the late 90s and early 2000s, one name comes to mind - Bert Newton.
Good old Moonface was in just about every musical produced on stage. Whether it was Beauty and the Beast, The Wizard of Oz or Wicked, there he was like a familiar flavour of ice cream.
And people were drawn to him - a big name to attract big audiences. They trusted him, they knew what they would get and they got it without fail.
But can one taste become tiresome? Sure, vanilla is reliable, but don’t audiences deserve a little variety?
When I book tickets to a show, I don’t often worry much about who’s in it. It’s either a show I want to see or it’s not.
But I do take note if I see show after show with the same performer playing the lead.
So why do companies and directors choose to work with the same people again and again? Are there no other choices? Or is choice a risky business?
Professional companies need to draw a crowd, and one way to do that is by casting familiar names. Television identities and pop stars seem to always get the lead roles. Rob Mills has played the love interest in every musical from Melbourne to Timbuktu.
But I do think we’re growing a little tired of it.
A friend who’s a huge fan of the musical ‘Waitress’ was excitedly looking forward to it’s Sydney debut. But when she heard the cast included Mills and pop singer Natalie Bassingthwaighte, she was heartbroken. How could they take a show described as having ‘pulsing heart and drive’ and cast it with the likes of ‘Australian Idol’ and ‘Neighbours’?
Now, I’m not implying that her lack of ticket purchase caused the show to not open, but one does have to think.
Are audiences so sick of the same sapidity that shows will start to die?
If that’s the case, we need some Neapolitan now!
The same can be said for community theatre. With short seasons and several shows a year, it can become monotonous seeing the same faces on the menu.
But, having been a director, I can completely understand why one might play favourites.
Everyone in community theatre is a volunteer. They go to work during the day, and spend their nights and weekends for at least three months churning milk and cream into something delicious.
A director needs a cast who turn up, do the hard work and get along. And there’s reassurance in knowing what you’re getting.
Taking a chance on someone new is always risky. Are they going to be reliable? Are they going to be easy to work with? Will they have fun?
Talent can sometimes leave a bitterness that no one wants to be around. I think most theatre people have been in a show where one cast member has spoiled the whole freezer full for all.
Fortunately though, nasty or odd people tend to show their frosty ways pretty quickly.
Right from the audition waiting room, things like interactions, manners and ego are being thawed. Theatre folks who have been burned before are always watching to see who will melt down.
And it’s also about getting the right mix. People can clash - you simply cannot risk putting sherbet with tiramisu. It’s often the case that vanilla works to even the blend, and new people are tried in small doses for a little while - they get a drizzle of small roles before they can be fully trusted to lead.
For the most part, that’s fair. I was always taught that you need to work your way to the top of a company.
Newbies are necessary though. If a company wants to move forward and grow audiences, they need to sweeten the deal.
But sometimes there really is no other choice than a familiar face.
Men, in particular, are hard to come by, especially if you’re after a singer. All too often, roles go to that same mediocre dude who always sings just under the note required. But he looks ok and can get a laugh, and they’ll sauce and sprinkle him with a fabulous female. No one will notice his use-by date.
In the end, Moonface brought in the crowd. Whether it was his humour, his flamboyancy, his ability to charm or his sense of whimsy, his long standing career was testimony to people wanting to see him up there.
Sure, he was kind of the same in every role.
He WAS vanilla.
But perhaps he formed the foundation necessary for a palatable blend of the toppings of a good show.
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