“EMPATHY CASTING”

Understanding the Person on the Other Side of the Audition

PART ONE — THE STORIES WE TELL ABOUT CASTING

I want to talk about casting directors today.

Which, admittedly, is slightly dangerous territory for a casting director.

Because whenever someone begins a conversation with—

“Let me tell you what casting directors are really like…”

I immediately think—

Oh boy.

Where is this going?

But I want to approach this differently.

I want to talk about something I’m calling Empathy Casting.

Yes.

It's a play on words.

And no, I am not suggesting that your casting director needs a hug.

Although some days…

We can discuss that later.

What I mean by Empathy Casting is simply this:

What would happen if actors had a better understanding of what casting directors actually do?

Not what actors think we do.

Not what somebody posted online after a frustrating audition.

Not what your friend heard from their acting teacher who heard it from an agent who heard it from somebody

standing outside an audition studio twelve years ago.

What actually happens.

Because there's something psychologically interesting that happens when we don't have information.

We invent it.

And actors have plenty of opportunities to invent information about casting.

You audition.

Nothing happens.

You think the audition went beautifully.

Nothing happens.

You get a callback.

Nothing happens.

You see somebody else got the part.

And nobody calls afterward to explain why.

There's no customer-service survey.

“Thank you for auditioning for Detective Number Three. Please stay on the line and a representative will

explain why you weren't selected.”

Wouldn't that be something?

Press one if you would like feedback about your audition.

Press two if you would like to argue with the director.

Press three if your mother would like to speak with us.

No.

You simply don't know.

And when human beings don't know something important to them, we tend to fill in the blank.

Actors are especially good at this because—

well—

you're imaginative people.

Unfortunately, sometimes you turn that imagination against yourselves.

“They didn't like me.”

“They already knew who they wanted.”

“Casting only uses their friends.”

“The casting director looked bored.”

“She didn't even smile.”

“He barely looked up.”

“They weren't interested.”

“Casting directors just like having power over actors.”

And there's another one I've heard over the years.

“Casting directors are just frustrated actors who couldn't make it themselves.”

That's an interesting one for me.

Because I actually was an actor.

For more than twenty years.

And now I've spent many years sitting on the other side of the table.

Which means I've had the peculiar experience of being suspicious of the people I eventually became.

And here's something I wish I had understood better when I was acting.

The casting director is usually thinking about you considerably less personally than you think they are.

I don't mean that dismissively.

I mean it liberatingly.

Because when you're auditioning, the experience feels incredibly personal.

That's your face.

Your voice.

Your body.

Your interpretation.

Your vulnerability.

Your career.

Your hope.

Of course it feels personal.

But the casting director is looking at the audition through an entirely different lens.

We're trying to solve something.

And that something is usually much more specific than—

“Is this actor good?”

In fact, one of the biggest misconceptions about casting is that we're sitting there judging talent.

Good actor.

Bad actor.

Good.

Bad.

Yes.

No.

Next.

That's not how I experience casting.

What I'm actually experiencing is—

What does this actor bring to this particular role in this particular project?

That's very different.

I don't need every actor to give me the same interpretation.

Actually, please don't.

That would make for a very long afternoon.

I want to experience your imagination.

Your instincts.

Your relationship to the material.

Your point of view.

Your commitment.

And then I have to ask another question.

Does what I'm experiencing fit the world the director and producer are trying to create?

And suddenly—

we're not talking about good and bad anymore.

We're talking about fit.

That distinction matters enormously.

Because actors frequently interpret—

“They didn't cast me”

as—

“They didn't think I was good.”

Those statements are not remotely the same.

You can give an excellent audition and not get cast.

You can be completely prepared.

You can make strong choices.

You can be interesting.

Specific.

Truthful.

Funny.

Moving.

Completely appropriate for the role.

And still—

someone else fits the particular vision better.

That's not consolation.

That's the mechanics of casting.

And understanding those mechanics can save actors from an enormous amount of unnecessary emotional

wear and tear.

Because the absence of information doesn't have to become evidence against you.

That's where empathy comes in.

Not sympathy.

Not excusing bad behavior.

Not pretending every casting director is delightful.

We're people.

Some people are wonderful.

Some are difficult.

Some are warm.

Some are reserved.

Some are terrific communicators.

And some apparently learned interpersonal communication from a parking meter.

We're talking about understanding the function.

Because when you understand someone's function, you stop assigning motives to behavior you don't

understand.

And that brings us to what I think may be the simplest explanation of casting I've ever found.

A casting director is essentially—

a personal shopper.

Stay with me.

Because this analogy may completely change the way you think about your next audition.

PART TWO — THE PERSONAL SHOPPER

Imagine someone hires you to shop for them.

They need something very specific.

Maybe it's a suit.

They tell you what they're looking for.

They tell you the occasion.

They tell you something about their taste.

They give you parameters.

And your job is to go into the marketplace and bring back choices.

Now—

are you looking for the best suit in the world?

What would that even mean?

The most expensive?

The most fashionable?

The best fabric?

The one you personally like?

No.

You're looking for the right suit for that client.

You're considering—

Fit.

Color.

Cut.

Style.

Price.

Occasion.

What else they're wearing.

Their personality.

What they're trying to communicate.

And then you bring them choices.

That's casting.

The producer and director have a vision.

Sometimes that vision is extraordinarily specific.

Sometimes it's still evolving.

Sometimes two members of the creative team have slightly different visions.

And yes—

sometimes those differences become apparent approximately three minutes before callbacks.

Welcome to show business.

But our job is to understand that vision as deeply as possible.

To get inside the creative team's head.

What world are they building?

What tone are they after?

What relationships matter?

What qualities does this character need to bring into the story?

Then we go shopping.

Except our merchandise talks back.

And occasionally has an agent.

Through breakdowns…

Submissions…

Headshots…

Resumes…

Reels…

Self-tapes…

Auditions…

Callbacks…

Previous work…

Recommendations…

And our own knowledge of the acting community—

we begin assembling possibilities.

Not winners.

Possibilities.

That's an important word.

Because casting's obligation is to present meaningful choices to the people who hired us.

We may have strong opinions.

Believe me.

We frequently do.

We may advocate for an actor.

We may say—

“I think you should take another look at this person.”

We might explain what happened in the room.

We might talk about someone's work.

Their professionalism.

Their previous experience.

Their ability to take direction.

Their chemistry with another actor.

We can help move a conversation along.

But ultimately—

the producer and director make the decision.

And this is where another actor myth begins to fall apart.

The casting director doesn't possess the mystical power actors sometimes imagine.

We have influence.

We have responsibility.

We have expertise.

But casting is collaborative.

We're serving somebody else's creative vision.

And here's the fascinating part.

In some ways—

the casting director is auditioning, too.

Think about it.

I have been hired because someone believes I understand their project.

Now I have to prove that I do.

The actors I present become part of my creative response to the material.

I'm essentially saying—

“This is how I understand what you're looking for.”

Sound familiar?

Because isn't that exactly what an actor does?

You receive material.

You interpret it.

You make choices.

You bring those choices into the room.

And you say—

“This is how I understand this character.”

The casting director is doing something remarkably similar.

We're both interpreting someone else's vision.

We're both using creativity.

We're both making choices.

We're both hoping those choices connect.

And—

this is important—

neither one of us completely controls the final decision.

That realization might create a little empathy on both sides of the table.

Actors sometimes imagine casting sitting comfortably inside the certainty of authority.

Meanwhile casting may be thinking—

I really hope this is what the director meant.

I've been in casting sessions where I felt enormously confident about what the creative team wanted.

And I've been in others where the target moved.

That's part of the job.

You listen.

You adjust.

You learn the project's personality.

Because every project has one.

Every director has one.

Every producer has one.

Sometimes casting a comedy requires a completely different energy than casting a drama.

Sometimes a director wants surprise.

Another wants precision.

One may respond immediately and emotionally to an actor.

Another may need to watch the tape again.

We're constantly gathering information.

Which brings me to another misconception.

The supposedly cold casting director.

I understand where this comes from.

An actor walks into the room.

The casting director seems intensely focused.

Maybe they don't engage much.

Maybe they're looking at a monitor.

Maybe they're making notes.

Maybe they're thinking about something.

And the actor's internal alarm system immediately activates.

They're not interested.

They hate this.

I made the wrong choice.

I should have done it differently.

Why isn't she smiling?

Maybe I should smile.

Don't smile.

That would be weird.

Oh God, now I'm thinking about smiling.

And meanwhile the casting director may simply be thinking—

Would this actor work opposite the person we cast yesterday?

That's it.

Nothing about you.

Nothing about whether you're talented.

Nothing about whether we like you.

We're solving the puzzle.

Casting requires tremendous concentration.

And concentration doesn't always photograph as warmth.

Efficiency can look like indifference.

Neutrality can look like rejection.

Concentration can look like criticism.

Please don't interpret someone's concentration as commentary on your performance.

I make a conscious effort to create a warm audition environment.

I believe actors do better work when they feel welcomed.

I know what it feels like to walk into that room.

I've done it.

But even in a warm environment, there are moments when the work requires focus.

Because the obligation isn't merely to make everybody comfortable.

The obligation is to cast the project.

And good casting directors take that responsibility seriously.

Not because we enjoy judging actors.

Quite the opposite.

Good casting directors love actors.

We appreciate what actors bring into a project.

We understand that every actor who walks into that room is offering us something we didn't have before they

arrived.

An interpretation.

An instinct.

A possibility.

And sometimes—

an actor walks in and completely changes the way we were thinking about the role.

Those are wonderful moments.

That's why I reject the idea that casting is fundamentally about judging talent.

I don't want to judge your talent.

I want to experience your work.

Those are very different things.

Judgment asks—

“Are you good enough?”

Experience asks—

“What happens when this actor inhabits this role?”

One closes possibilities.

The other opens them.

And casting—

when it's done well—

is about discovering possibilities.

PART THREE — WHAT CHANGES WHEN YOU UNDERSTAND THE JOB?

So why does any of this matter to you?

You're the actor.

Why should you care how casting works?

Because understanding the person on the other side of the process can change your behavior inside the

process.

It can remove some of the imaginary conflict.

You don't have to walk into an audition trying to defeat casting.

You don't have to impress us.

You don't have to figure out whether we like you.

You don't have to decode my facial expressions.

Please don't.

Half the time I don't know what my facial expressions are doing either.

You don't have to search for clues.

Did he lean forward?

Did she write something down?

They watched the whole tape!

They only watched forty-seven seconds!

They asked me to do it again!

They didn't ask me to do it again!

They laughed!

They didn't laugh!

Stop.

You're turning the audition into forensic science.

Your job isn't to investigate the casting director.

Your job is to act.

And here's where empathy becomes useful.

Instead of imagining someone sitting on the other side waiting to reject you—

imagine another creative person trying to solve a problem.

That's much closer to reality.

I want you to succeed.

And actors sometimes hear casting directors say that and think—

That's a nice thing casting directors say.

No.

Think about it practically.

Why would I want you to fail?

If you walk into the room and give me exactly what the project needs—

you've just made my job easier.

You have solved something for me.

You may have solved something for the director.

You may have solved something for the producer.

When an actor gives a wonderful audition, casting directors don't sit there thinking—

Damn.

They were good.

How can we stop this?

We're thrilled!

Because suddenly we have something exciting to present.

Remember the personal shopper.

I found the jacket.

It fits.

The color is right.

The cut is right.

The style is right.

Wait until you see this.

That's the feeling.

So yes—

the casting director wants every actor to succeed.

That doesn't mean every actor will get cast.

Those are completely different ideas.

Success in an audition isn't synonymous with getting the job.

Sometimes your success is giving us a strong, memorable, specific piece of work that doesn't happen to fit

today's project.

And casting remembers good work.

That's another reason the “casting only uses their friends” mythology gets distorted.

Casting directors develop relationships with actors whose work we know.

Of course we do.

If you've delivered excellent work repeatedly, we remember that.

If you've been professional and reliable, we remember that.

If we know your work well enough to understand what you can do, that becomes useful information.

That's not friendship.

That's professional history.

Every industry has it.

Trust develops through experience.

But good casting cannot survive by recycling the same small group of people.

Our clients hire us to discover possibilities.

We need new actors.

Different actors.

Unexpected actors.

Actors we haven't met.

Actors whose self-tape surprises us.

Actors whose headshot makes us stop.

Actors whose interpretation makes us reconsider the character.

Discovery isn't an inconvenience in casting.

Discovery is part of the job.

And maybe that's another reason actors can approach the process with a little more freedom.

You don't have to arrive with a relationship.

You have to arrive with something to offer.

Your interpretation.

Your preparation.

Your point of view.

Your creative commitment.

That's your currency.

So here's something I'd like you to try.

The next time you have an audition, notice the story you begin telling yourself about casting.

Before the audition—

“They probably already know who they want.”

Story.

During the audition—

“She doesn't seem interested.”

Story.

Afterward—

“I didn't hear anything, so they didn't like me.”

Story.

Catch yourself.

And ask one question:

What do I actually know?

Usually—

not very much.

You know you auditioned.

You know what you brought to the role.

You know whether you prepared.

You know whether you committed to your choices.

Everything else may simply be your imagination trying to create certainty where certainty doesn't exist.

And if you're going to use your imagination—

save it for the character.

That's where we need it.

There is one more reason I care about this subject.

I've lived on both sides.

For more than twenty years, I was the actor walking into the audition.

I knew the anticipation.

The preparation.

The hope.

The disappointment.

The overthinking.

And yes—

the stories.

Then I moved to the other side of the table.

And I discovered something I wish I had understood much earlier.

There wasn't an enemy over there.

There was another creative person trying to do their job.

Trying to understand a director.

Trying to serve a story.

Trying to assemble people who somehow belonged together.

Trying to make good choices.

Trying to get hired again.

In other words—

not terribly different from me.

That realization changed the way I understood auditioning.

And it's one of the reasons I wanted to share this with you.

Because empathy doesn't mean you surrender your ambition.

It doesn't mean disappointment disappears.

It doesn't mean you'll suddenly enjoy not getting a job.

Come on.

We're going for understanding here, not sainthood.

It simply means you stop spending valuable emotional energy fighting an imaginary opponent.

Casting isn't the opponent.

The director isn't the opponent.

The actor sitting outside the room isn't the opponent.

There doesn't need to be an opponent.

There is a project.

There is a role.

There is a creative problem.

And for a few minutes—

you get to offer your solution.

That's the audition.

So here's your Reset.

The next time you walk into an audition room—

or more likely these days, turn on your camera—

don't imagine someone waiting to judge you.

Imagine another creative person waiting to discover something.

Don't try to convince us you're talented.

Let us experience your talent.

Don't try to figure out what we're thinking.

Give us something worth thinking about.

Don't measure the success of the audition by whether you get the job.

Measure it by whether you brought something specific, committed and authentically yours into the process.

Then let casting do its job.

Let the director do theirs.

Let the producer do theirs.

And you—

go back to being an actor.

Because empathy doesn't guarantee you'll get cast.

It gives you something better than another invented story.

It gives you perspective.

And perspective allows you to stay creative.

To stay curious.

To stay available.

And perhaps most importantly—

to remember that we're not sitting on opposite sides of the audition.

We're actually on the same side.

We're trying to tell the story.

I'm Jeff Dreisbach.

This is Casting Actors Cast.

And I'll see you next time.

What do casting directors actually think when you're auditioning? Are they judging you? Do they already know

who they want? Do they only call in actors they know?

In Episode #440 of Casting Actors Cast, casting director, former actor and master teacher Jeff Dreisbach

introduces “Empathy Casting”—a different way for actors to understand the person on the other side of the

audition.

Jeff takes you behind the casting process to explain why casting directors are more like “personal shoppers” for

producers and directors, why a great audition doesn't always result in getting the role, how concentration can be

mistaken for criticism, and why casting isn't searching for the “best” actor—but the right creative fit for a

particular project.

Most importantly, you'll discover why the casting director isn't your opponent. Casting wants actors to succeed

because every compelling audition provides another creative possibility.

Stop trying to read the room. Stop inventing stories about what casting is thinking. Bring your interpretation,

your preparation and your unique creative point of view—and let everyone else do their job.

Casting Actors Cast with Jeff Dreisbach — practical insights from both sides of the audition table.

Episode Keywords

casting directors, casting director advice, empathy casting, audition advice, acting auditions, casting process,

how casting works, what casting directors want, actor mindset, audition mindset, audition anxiety, self tape

auditions, self tape advice, casting myths, acting career advice, getting cast, actors and casting directors,

audition psychology, professional actors, acting tips, acting training, film auditions, television auditions, theatre

auditions, actor confidence, audition room, casting calls, actor headshots, acting resume, audition preparation,

Jeff Dreisbach, Casting Actors Cast