Has the Industry Lost the Personal Touch?

I have finally reached the age where I can say "back in the day".

In my case, that means 2001, when I graduated from the three-year musical theatre course at ArtsEd. I was fortunate enough to leave knowing that, two weeks later, I would be starting rehearsals for a year-long tour of one of my favourite musicals, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. I remember being excited and nervous in equal measure.

When I was auditioning full-time, I never had to submit a self-tape. Never! Auditioning meant going into a room and meeting the casting team, the director, perhaps a producer or two. Twelve if it was Disney.

At the time, I probably took much of that for granted. Looking back, I realise those rooms gave me far more than the chance to get a job.

What the room gave me

They helped me understand who I was as a performer.

It took me years to realise I was more Thénardier than Jean Valjean. When I finally accepted that and started recognising the roles that suited me, things began to click into place. Some of that understanding came from being in rooms with other people: trying things, responding to direction and discovering where I felt comfortable, where I needed to grow and what I could bring to a role.

You could arrive with one idea and leave having discovered something completely different. A director might offer a note that unlocked a scene or helped you find something in a song. Even when you did not get the job, there could be something useful to take away.

And casting directors got to know you over time.

I was seen by some of the same people across several auditions. They saw me grow, gain confidence and develop as a performer. We built relationships. If I was not right for one job, they might remember me for something else.

An audition could become part of a longer conversation, even when it did not lead to an offer.

There was also everything that happened outside the audition room. You caught up with actors you knew and met people you did not. You shared stories, compared experiences and learned from one another. For me, those encounters helped an uncertain profession feel less lonely.

One of the best pieces of advice I received came while working on Cabaret at Chichester. An actor told me to watch the people who had been in the business longer than I had. So I did. There is so much you can learn simply by being around other people and paying attention.

The other side of the table

Later, as a producer and director/choreographer, I experienced auditions from the other side of the table.

Watching someone walk into a room and surprise you was exhilarating. In my experience, we wanted every actor to be the answer. We wanted them to come in and show us something that made the decision easy.

I still remember Daniel Boys auditioning for Tommy, Nadine Cox walking into the room and owning Maxine in Stepping Out, and the tears streaming down my face when Siobhan Harrison sang for a workshop of Little Women.

Those performances have stayed with me.

A performance on tape can move you too. But being together also gave us the opportunity to explore. We could ask an actor to try something differently, see how they responded and discover something neither of us had anticipated.

That exchange was part of the audition.

Then came the self-tape

Then Covid forced the industry to find another way of working. Self-tapes already existed, but they became a practical answer when being together was impossible.

I can see why they have remained part of the process.

For an actor who lives outside London, avoiding an expensive journey for a first audition can make a considerable difference. For someone balancing work, caring responsibilities or other commitments, some flexibility over when they record may be valuable. Some actors feel more comfortable taping at home and appreciate the chance to try again.

Those benefits matter. The old system had its own barriers, and my experience of it was not everybody's experience.

But I think we need to look just as honestly at what self-tapes ask of actors, and what happens when they replace more of our opportunities to meet.

What a tape asks of an actor

Before an actor can concentrate on the performance, there may be a whole other job to do.

Is the lighting usable? Is the sound clear? Is the framing right? Who can read opposite them? Is there enough space? Are the neighbours having building work done? Can they record before the children come home?

Then come the questions about the performance itself. Have I understood the brief? Am I doing too much? Too little? Was the first take better than the seventh?

Those uncertainties exist in an audition room too, but at home there may be nobody to offer a note or say, "We have what we need." The opportunity to do another take can become the feeling that you should keep going.

Actors are often reassured that they do not need an expensive setup. Even so, I can understand the anxiety about whether a more polished tape will make a better impression. Access to quiet space, equipment and someone to help varies enormously.

I tried making a few tapes myself because I wanted to understand what the actors I work with were being asked to do.

I found it difficult.

I am tall, so framing was awkward. I have two children, so finding a quiet moment takes planning. Add noise from neighbouring houses or building work on the road, and getting a usable recording becomes a challenge before I have even started thinking about the acting.

It made me wonder how I would have fared if the auditions that helped start my career had happened that way.

Dance tapes raise further questions. Learning a demanding combination from a video and finding somewhere suitable to perform it can be a substantial task. If the choreography involves travelling, kicks, turns and leaps, the living room may not be an option. An actor may need to hire a studio and find someone to film them.

Similarly, finding a reader for a scene is not always straightforward. You need someone who is available, has time to help and can give you something responsive to work with.

A tape might save an actor the cost of travelling to an audition. It might also bring costs and practical demands of its own. Both experiences deserve to be recognised.

A change I feel as an agent

I feel a version of this change in my work as an agent too.

Electronic communication allows us to work much more quickly. We can share information, submit actors and respond to opportunities with a speed that would once have been difficult to imagine. I value that.

We still pick up the phone and speak to casting directors. But in my experience, those conversations happen less often than they used to. More of the working day takes place through emails, submissions and links to tapes.

Much of that is useful and necessary. Yet a conversation can give you an understanding that is harder to reach through a series of messages. There is room to ask a question, explain why you believe in someone or discover that a brief has possibilities you had not considered.

Over time, those conversations build familiarity and trust.

I would not pretend that every audition once involved meaningful feedback, or that every phone call led to a breakthrough. Rejection was still rejection, and the industry could still feel impersonal.

But there were opportunities for contact that I worry are becoming less frequent. When an actor is recording at home, an agent is sending a link and a casting team is watching remotely, how do we make sure there is still space to get to know one another?

So, has the industry lost the personal touch?

I do not think we have lost it entirely. There are still people making time for conversations, building relationships and creating opportunities for actors to work with them in the room.

But I do think we are moving towards a way of working in which those encounters happen less often. That concerns me.

I would like us to have an open conversation about when a tape is useful, what is reasonable to ask an actor to prepare, and when meeting would help everyone make a better decision. Clear briefs, manageable demands and opportunities to respond to direction would make a difference. So would remembering the value of picking up the phone.

I keep coming back to the casting directors who saw me develop over several auditions, the directors who helped me discover something unexpected, and the actors whose experience helped me find my feet.

Those relationships shaped my understanding of myself and my place in the industry.

As we embrace the speed and possibilities of technology, I want us to keep making space for those relationships—and for the actors who are only just beginning to find their place.