Boards that mean the world. If you want to get on sta­ge, you have an uphill batt­le ahead of you. There are around 1000 app­li­cants for every eight to ten pla­ces to stu­dy dra­ma at sta­te schools. It’s not uncom­mon to ask yourself what you should do if you don’t make it. I did — on my last attempt after a total of 21 auditions.

“Thank you, that’s enough. We’ll be in touch,” says the midd­le-aged man. He holds a stop­watch in his hand. I had two minu­tes to con­vin­ce the jury. I alrea­dy knew that my acting per­for­mance today did not qui­te work out. I didn’t real­ly get in. Then it’s time to wait. I talk to the other app­li­cants and find out that some of them have alrea­dy audi­tio­ned over 30 times. That makes me swal­low hard. Not only have audi­tions cost ner­ves, but also a lot of money. On top of to the tra­vel expen­ses, almost every dra­ma school char­ges a pro­ces­sing fee of 50 euros. That gets pret­ty expen­si­ve over time becau­se it’s not uncom­mon to have twel­ve audi­tions befo­re final­ly being accep­ted. Each and every time you get more and more impa­ti­ent, doubt yourself and even think about giving up. Perhaps you secret­ly wish to take up a nor­mal job after all. The crux of the mat­ter: many peop­le start ano­t­her major and even­tual­ly rea­li­ze that acting is still lin­ge­ring at the back of their minds. And then they go for ano­t­her audition.

Production pho­to from “Familie Schroffenstein” at the Bavarian Academy of Dramatic Arts. Photo by Fritz Falkenthal

In the begin­ning audi­tio­ning was fun. Two mono­lo­gues, a song — no sweat. I used to be in theat­re clubs and romp around on sta­ge all the time. But acting clubs were a dif­fe­rent thing, they were not about my pro­fes­sio­nal care­er. And now sud­den­ly I stand in front of theat­re prac­ti­tio­ners who I must con­vin­ce, sin­ce they deci­de about my exis­tence. And theat­re folk are as dis­cer­ning as they are unpre­dic­ta­ble. I remem­ber an audi­tion whe­re they told ano­t­her app­li­cant: “See that bak­e­ry on the other side of the street? Maybe try over there.”

Or: “What you do is kind of inte­res­ting at first, but then it gets rather annoy­ing.” They were never that mean to me. However, a judge once asked the other app­li­cants if the emo­ti­on I tried to con­vey did not reach them eit­her. But most must lis­ten to feed­back like this. At the next school or the one after that, they may even­tual­ly be prai­sed for their talent or in the best case even awar­ded with a let­ter of acceptance.

“If you’re in, you’re in” — or happy

Auditions are split into three to four sta­ges. In the first round you reci­te a mono­lo­gue, during which the jury can inter­rupt at any time. Sometimes they make you stop after 30 seconds, eit­her becau­se they sen­se talent or the oppo­si­te. If you get through the first round and pass, the jud­ges usual­ly give inst­ruc­tions to the audi­tionees. Most of the time they pro­vi­de other first-year stu­dents for you to pro­ve your skills on and with them. For examp­le, that could mean crea­ting some­thing new from your memo­ri­zed mono­lo­gue and sud­den­ly fin­ding yourself in the role of a lover, even though the sce­ne is ori­gi­nal­ly about mur­der and may­hem. Often, this second round is in the evening, after a five hour wait in bet­ween and when your ener­gy level has hit rock-bot­tom. If you can pull yourself tog­e­ther once more and mana­ge to con­vin­ce the jury, howe­ver, the final round awaits.

Everything is put to test here, once more: mono­lo­gues and impro­vi­sa­ti­on skills, voice and inter­play with others. At the end of the day or the wee­kend, as in my case, you get the result. The names are read aloud — as you can ima­gi­ne, for tho­se who got accep­ted it was like Christmas, their bir­th­day and Christmas again on the same day. Even though that implied the other app­li­cants had to keep ven­tu­ring from school to school for their dream. Of cour­se, trai­ning at a pri­va­te dra­ma school is pos­si­ble, but not for ever­yo­ne. Not only becau­se of the tre­men­dous cost of 500 euro per mon­th or more, but also becau­se many thea­tres and filmma­kers do not even look at the cer­ti­fi­ca­tes issued by pri­va­te schools. This is becau­se, stu­dents often are accep­ted right after the first mono­lo­gue as they fund the school and its staff, regard­less of their talent. There are good actors the­re, of cour­se, but if a theat­re has the choice bet­ween a sta­te-appro­ved and a pri­va­te gra­dua­te, it will pick the for­mer in most cases. It’s a tough busi­ness, even for alum­ni of renow­ned dra­ma schools.

I speak, therefore I am

Performance pho­to from „Max und Moritz“. Photo by Werner Hofbauer

Every dra­ma school is dif­fe­rent and sets ano­t­her focus, but some clas­ses are simi­lar. My school for examp­le put much empha­sis on vocal edu­ca­ti­on. Thus, in the first year we alrea­dy had group and small group voice clas­ses and in the second year we had indi­vi­du­al voice clas­ses several times a week. This was important to the tea­chers so that we could all mas­ter the pro­nun­cia­ti­on rules for sta­ge acting at the end. Speaking les­sons are about being able to arti­cu­la­te well and being pre­sent, authen­tic and vocal­ly fit on sta­ge. As more and more thea­tres are atta­ching impor­t­ance to musi­cal skills, we were also trai­ned in sin­ging. Those who wan­ted more than that had the oppor­tu­ni­ty to take musi­cal theat­re clas­ses as an elec­ti­ve. Those who enjoy­ed wri­ting texts took sce­nic wri­ting and tried their hand at crea­ting their own plays.

We also had some move­ment clas­ses on sub­jects such as dance theat­re, fen­cing and con­tem­pora­ry dance.

As theo­ry should not be neglec­ted eit­her, we were taught histo­ry of theat­re as well as the Stanislawski and Brecht methods. However, I can attest to the cli­ché that actors are rather prac­ti­cal peop­le and like to stay away from theo­ry. To be fair, three hours of theat­re histo­ry on a Friday after­noon can be real­ly exhausting!

Of howling dogs and a lack of retreats

The big­gest hurd­le was pro­bab­ly Covid. Studying acting in front of screens was a tor­tu­re for both lec­tu­rers and stu­dents in many ways. I remem­ber jokin­gly say­ing to my lec­tu­rer short­ly befo­re the first lock­down: “I’ll see you on Skype”. A week later, we were facing each other again — online. In the mon­ths that fol­lo­wed, I rehe­ar­sed, dan­ced, sang and bla­bbe­red in my LaxVox in front of the screen. What’s more, I moved house during the first lock­down and had to spend the time in bet­ween with my fami­ly. Particularly awk­ward: when I was sup­po­sed to do my sin­ging exer­ci­ses and my lec­tu­rer encou­ra­ged me with “a litt­le lou­der” to tear the hither­to peace­ful house out of its har­mo­nious tran­quil­li­ty, my dog found it so uncom­for­ta­ble that he how­led along enthu­si­asti­cal­ly one floor up. While I had at least enough space to dance at my family’s, I had to make do with much less space in my own apart­ment during the second lock­down. However, neces­si­ty is the mother of inven­ti­on and so the oven, cup­boards and shel­ves were all repur­po­sed and incor­po­ra­ted into one or two performances.

The never-ending journey

Whoever thinks that you will never have to audi­tion again after being accep­ted to dra­ma school is mista­ken. Because short­ly befo­re you gra­dua­te, it starts all over again and you app­ly to various thea­tres. Alternatively, you can intro­du­ce yourself to agen­ci­es or send out app­li­ca­ti­ons for film and tele­vi­si­on. And if thea­tres are inte­res­ted in the gra­dua­tes, the lat­ter are back on the road with their reper­toire of mono­lo­gues and songs. There is rare­ly any rea­son to brea­the a sigh of reli­ef, as the con­tracts are usual­ly limi­ted to two years and the right to per­ma­nent employ­ment only app­lies after 15 years at the same theat­re. As har­sh as it may sound, the­re are artis­tic direc­tors who take advan­ta­ge of this situa­ti­on. Many want to immor­ta­li­ze them­sel­ves or bring the com­pa­ny of their for­mer house with them and some­ti­mes even dis­miss half the ensem­ble when they start. For tho­se who have been made red­un­dant, this means that they must look for a new thea­ter or place to live. For sin­gle peop­le, this can be an oppor­tu­ni­ty, but for actors with fami­lies, it’s an enor­mous chal­len­ge. Apart from that, the working hours are not necessa­ri­ly fami­ly-friend­ly eit­her: during the day, you work in two blocks from 10 am to 2 pm and 6 pm to 10 pm. On top of that, most of the per­for­man­ces take place at the wee­kend. Before COVID, it was com­mon for many actors to drag them­sel­ves onto the sta­ge when they were ill becau­se ill­ness usual­ly leads to an empty spot on sta­ge. It was said you can call in sick once or twice, but then it can hap­pen that your con­tract will not be extended.

Before dra­ma school | After dra­ma school. Illustration by Ann-Kathrin Falkenthal

Acting is some­thing you real­ly must want to do becau­se you rare­ly get rich. At least not in terms of money. It’s never wrong and not repre­hen­si­ble to have a plan B. I have heard of actors who have found their new pas­si­on in inte­rior design or public rela­ti­ons becau­se the­se jobs have the added perk of being secu­re and com­pa­ti­ble with fami­ly life.

Currently, after I com­ple­ted dra­ma school, I am stu­dy­ing speech com­mu­ni­ca­ti­on to give future actors a bet­ter under­stan­ding of pro­nun­cia­ti­on and pre­sence on sta­ge. But as said ear­lier — acting still slum­bers in the back of my head. Who knows if I will app­ly again to thea­tres in the future, with mono­lo­gues and songs, and a sli­ver of hope in my bag. For now, I am hap­py with my choice, though. It does not feel like giving up to me, but like growing.

Text: Ann-Kathrin Falkenthal

Translation: Stefan Kranz

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