Vermont Musical Theatre Academy
The audition for the Musical Theatre Option consists of three parts – acting, singing, and dancing. Your “audience” will consist of VMTA faculty - all of whom will be wishing you great success!
The purpose of the audition is to help the faculty identify your strengths and potential in each of the three areas. For admittance to the program, you must demonstrate the potential to develop your skills in all three areas. We do not expect students to be proficient in all areas, just show us the desire to progress and learn.
There will be a group dance audition (up to ten in a group). The dance audition will take approximately 20-30 minutes and consists of learning a simple musical theater combination (no tap). You will not be asked to do the dance individually.
Following the group dance audition, individual vocal and acting auditions taking approximately 6 minutes will take place. The order for the individual auditions will be random. You should expect to be at the audition for no more than approximately 90 - 120 minutes total.
Please read each of the following guidelines very carefully. If you have any questions regarding the audition, please contact Tim or Jen Barden (firstname.lastname@example.org, email@example.com) or 802-865-7626.
The dance audition will occur before the acting and singing auditions. You will be doing the dance audition with up to 9 other auditionees.
Acting: You should prepare one (1) monologue that is approximately one minute in length from a modern 20th century play. You can either select a monologue of your own or choose from several included in this guideline document (Monologues are at the end).
Please observe the following guidelines:
Singing: Prepare one (1) 16 - 32 bar song musical selection that demonstrates your range and versatility:
*You may do your monologue/scene before your song if that’s more comfortable for you. Also, be prepared to be asked to make an adjustment and try a piece again.
Boy Vs. Girl
Bill is at school speaking with a friend (who happens to be a girl)
Ash, could you come up for air sometime? I’ve been listening to you go on and on about Brian Miller for an hour now. I don’t think I can take it anymore. Why don’t you ask him out? (Beat.) Of course you can ask him out. He’d probably be relieved. I’d love it if a girl asked me out. You have no idea the terror involved in asking someone out. It’s unbelievable. In fact, I’d say that’s my ideal girl. One who’d ask me out. I’m going to hold out for that one, ballsy girl. I hate the whole boy-girl thing. It’s too nerve-wracking.
P.S., Ashley: It’s really unpleasant to listen to how cute another guy is if you’re a guy too. What if I sat here and went on and one about every other girl in school? You wouldn’t like that, would you? (Beat.) You wouldn’t care? Oh. thanks! Thanks a lot. That’s just great. You can be really cruel, Ash, you know that? Man, that hurt.
DEAR UNIVERSE, DEAR WORLD
The girl doing this monologue has just learned something disturbing. It may be a family tragedy, a death, divorce for example. Or, it could be something less important. You choose.
I need a place to be right now. I feel like no one cares about me. I feel a little bit of love and a little bit of hate. But what I feel can't take me anywhere. I feel bad on the bottom of my feet, and good on the top. I feel nobody cares. This place makes me feel like if I'm in a little dark spot... I'm lost. I can't be seen. Or I can't see anyone's face. I'm in my own world, my special place. So, come to this special place. Come and feel what I feel: Nothing.
I can't feel anybody loves me, 'cause there's no one to be with me.
I need a little bit of help. Someone there beside me. Push my mind up. I need someone, so come with me in my little special, special place.
SAMMY CARDUCCI’S GUIDE TO WOMEN
In the play, Sammy Carducci's Guide to Women, an eleven-year-old expert on women, Samuele Lorenzo Carducci (better known as "Sammy") finds out that girls are people, too.
Before he delivers this monologue, Sammy and his best friend, Gus, are in the school cafeteria conducting a survey (on-what else?) women! When Sammy spots Becky, a sixth-grader, however, he falls in love at first sight, and his survey is finished forever.
Sammy (age 11)
...So I'm standing there in the cafeteria, doing my survey with Gus, when all of a sudden I'm staring at the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen. She looks fourteen or fifteen at least, but I know she couldn't be, because my school only goes up to the sixth grade. At first I think maybe she flunked a grade or two. Then I look at her eyes, which shine like a couple of spotlights, and I know she's too smart for that. While I'm watching, she pushes her hair back behind one ear and smiles. I get this incredible feeling, like...how can I explain it? It's like somebody ran one of those rubber squeegees across the windshield of my life. Kinda poetic, huh? I get like that sometimes. Suddenly everything's bright and clear. I know without a doubt she is the woman of my dreams.
That afternoon I check around and find out some key facts about her. Turns out her name is Becky Davidson, and she's in Mr. Lawrence's sixth-grade class. She's smart, and she loves to read. She works in the library with her skinny friend, Alice Biddle. So, when class is over, Gus and I will head over there.
The play, Skin, explores the lives of three different children living in Canada. In this monologue, Tuan, an immigrant from North Vietnam who survived a terrifying journey from Vietnam to Canada in a small boat... a journey his brother did not survive... reflects on his new life.
My sponsors helped me find work. Every night and on weekends I would clean office buildings. It was hard to do that and study for school too, but I had to send money to my parents. They wanted to leave Vietnam to come and be with us. And I needed money so my sister and I could eat...
Sometimes late at night when I am mopping floors, I stop and listen. The empty building, so hollow. Buzzing of fluorescent tubes. Outside rain beats against windows. I feel like I'm underwater. I think... around the corner, my brother will be standing. Waiting to grab the mop from my hands, shouting, "You're my little brother, why are you working when you should be sleeping? Give that mop to me, that is my job!" And I look at him, and his hair is still wet, wet like it was the last time I saw him. I want to say, "Did you swim, I thought you drowned. How did you find me here, in Canada, in this city, in this building
right now? You didn't drown, you're alive and you made it all the way to me."
, , .And I walk down the corridor, turn the corner and look. The hallway goes on forever. It's so empty. No sound but the hum of lights. And the rain against the windows.
Set in a Long Island suburb in the 1960s, That Night portrays the relationship between Alice, a young girl, and her next door neighbor, Sheryl. Sheryl is a beautiful, older teen and magnetically attractive to boys. Alice admires and idolizes Sheryl, and at first, wants to be like her in every possible way.
It was the summer everyone thought that the Russians were going to invade Long Island any minute, and President Kennedy was going to Berlin to head them off. Sputnik had been around the world ten times and Mr. Rossi, our neighbor swore he saw it fly right over his back yard. But I had other things on my mind that summer, and so did everyone else on my block.
The Meyer twins were always fighting about something. They'd do just about anything to get Cathryn's and Barbara's [Alice’s best friends] attention. They were always teasing me. Nicki was the worst. Once, behind the Rossi house, he said he wanted to kiss me... then he spit in my ear.
I read everything I could about love. Like “MODERN ROMANCE," Encyclopedias, even stuff that took a whole month to get in the mail. But still, I felt like it was some big secret everyone was in on but me. Except sometimes, late at night, when Sheryl came home.
Right after she moved in last winter, the boys started coming around. They all wanted her to go steady, and be their girl. But she wasn’t interested …
If I could just be her for one night ...even for just one minute…
I found out everything about her ...that she played the same song every night, "RULER OF MY HEART." I knew that every Friday after school, she bought a brand new scarf at Woolworth's... That she put her favorite perfume on every night before she went to sleep... it was "Ambush" ...that she thought Brenda Lee was alright, because she turned down a date with Ricky Nelson, and that JFK was the coolest Catholic she knew-outside of her Dad... and that a nun at Mount Saint Mary's slapped her in the face with all her might, and she didn't even cry...that she never slept in anything at all, even in the middle of winter.
She didn't know me, or my name… but I wanted to laugh her laugh and dream her dreams.
The Russians never did invade Long Island, and Mr. Rossi turned out to be all wrong about seeing Sputnik flying over his back yard. But I learned some things that summer... things I'd never forget.
A young Bosnian girl, Zlata was eleven years old when she first began keeping a diary [which she named “Mimmy”.] Just months later, war broke out all around her. Barricades went up in her city (Sarajevo) and heavy shelling began. Many that Zlata knew were hurt or killed. Her family survived for over two years with barely any electricity, heat, water or food. In the following journal entry, Zlata expresses some of her feelings about war, peace and the people who make both happen.
I keep wanting to explain these stupid politics to myself, because it seems to me that politics caused this war, making it our everyday reality. .. It looks to me as though these politics mean Serbs, Croats and Muslims. But they are all people. They are all the same. They all look like people, there's no difference. They all have arms, legs and heads, they walk and talk, but now there's "something" that wants to make them different.
Among my girlfriends, among our friends in our family, there are Serbs and Croats and Muslims. It's a mixed group and I never knew who was a Serb, a Croat or a Muslim. Now politics has started meddling around. It has put an “S” on Serbs, an “M” on Muslims and a “C” on Croats. It wants to separate them. And to do so it has chosen the worst, blackest pencil of all... the pencil of war which spells only misery and death.
Why is politics making us unhappy, separating us, when we ourselves know who is good and who isn't? We mix with the good, not with the bad. And among the good there are Serbs and Croats and Muslims, just as there are among the bad. I simply don't understand it. Of course, I'm "young," and politics are conducted by "grown-ups." But I think we "young" would do it better. We certainly wouldn't have chosen war …
A bit of philosophizing on my part, but I was alone and felt I could write this to you, Mimmy. You understand me. Fortunately, I've got you to talk to.