Audition Cuttings for The Government Inspector
Auditions will be on Wednesday, Janaury 14th at 3pm in the auditorium or the scene shop.
No audition paperwork is needed.
No audition paperwork is needed.
If you are interested in crew, you will come to the audition and tell us how you want to be involved and what you can do help us be successful. We are looking for people who want to support the team.
For Cast, you will need to choose one of the following cuttings and READ it for your audition. Please come in with a BIG character ... that is OVER THE TOP ... and BELIEVABLE. That is the challenge.
Don't worry about the gender of the character. We can sort those out later. The key is to show up and have fun reading ONLY one of these monologues.
Don't worry about the gender of the character. We can sort those out later. The key is to show up and have fun reading ONLY one of these monologues.
THE GOVERNMENT INSPECTOR (technically the POSTMASTER, but we will hear this monologue as THE GOVERNMENT INSPECTOR: I hasten to inform you, my dear friend, what wonderful things have happened to me. On the way to this awful town, I played cards with an infantry captain who took me for my every last dollar. So the innkeeper here grew tired of my running up my bill and threatened to send for the police. When they appeared, however, they evidently mistook me for somebody else. One thing led to another, and I am now staying in the home of the mayor and having a grand time. I’m flirting shamelessly with both his daughter—and his wife. All of these foolish people insist on treating me like royalty and giving me fistfuls of money. Oh, what a cast of ridiculous characters they are.
THE INSPECTOR'S ASSISTANT: The devil take it! I am so hungry! There’s a racket in my belly like a whole regiment blowing trumpets. We’ll never reach home. I just know it. It’s been weeks since we left St. Petersburg and already he’s gone through all of the money his father sent him for the trip. We’d have had more than enough cash to pay our way if he didn’t insiston going first class everywhere. “Osip, get me the best room in the best inn and order the best dinner they serve—I deserve nothing but the best.” That would all be well and good if he actually was somebody of significance. But for a common copy clerk? So, then he goes and gets acquainted with other travellers, plays cards with them, and looses his shirt. I am so sick of this. Life would simpler back in our little town.
THE MAYOR: Here's a letter I'll read to you—from Andrey Ivanovich. Listen to what he writes: "My dear friend--“I hope this finds you well—” —and so on and so on— “—I hasten to let you know—” —Ah, that's it— “—I hasten to let you know that an official has arrived here with special instructions…to inspect the whole district…and your town in particular. I have learned this from highly trustworthy sources. So, as I know you have your little peccadilloes--like everybody else-- I, uh, can’t imagine to what he is referring there. But he goes on, “I advise you to take every precaution, as he may descend on you at any moment, if he hasn't already. He may be staying somewhere right now--incognito—traveling as a private citizen.” So, there you have it.
THE MAYOR'S WIFE: He was bribed. If he’s got an aunt, may her remaining teeth fall out. He’s such
a crook! The tailor’s son should have been conscripted. But, no! The tailor slipped the
mayor a nice fat wad of cash—and suddenly the tailor’s son was determined to be “unable to serve.” So, then, “his honor” turned to the son of a tradeswoman. She sent the mayor’s wife a fancy set of table linens—and ‘lo and behold-- her baby boy is “no longer needed” by the Army. Well, Sir, then he comes to us—with his hand out, mind you. But we’ve got nothing to give. So he says to me, “It’s the Army for him,” he says. That old crook. If his father still lives, may he fall down a flight of stairs as he exits the church in front of the entire congregation Sunday next.
a crook! The tailor’s son should have been conscripted. But, no! The tailor slipped the
mayor a nice fat wad of cash—and suddenly the tailor’s son was determined to be “unable to serve.” So, then, “his honor” turned to the son of a tradeswoman. She sent the mayor’s wife a fancy set of table linens—and ‘lo and behold-- her baby boy is “no longer needed” by the Army. Well, Sir, then he comes to us—with his hand out, mind you. But we’ve got nothing to give. So he says to me, “It’s the Army for him,” he says. That old crook. If his father still lives, may he fall down a flight of stairs as he exits the church in front of the entire congregation Sunday next.
THE DIRECTOR OF CHARITIES: Meaning I, myself, spare no pains in performing the duties of my office with the utmost zeal. However, there are certain others who who are not so inclined. Now, I’m not one to name names, mind you, but there is a certain postmaster, for example, whose fondness for spirits has led to his office being in complete disarray—a fearful state of neglect. Plus, the mail is always delayed because he insists on reading each and every piece before he—eventually—gets around to delivering it. Now, far be it from me to criticize, but there is also a certain judge who is a better judge of hunting hounds than of the merits of a case. Or I could mention the name—though I won’t—of a certain landowner here—who is as foolish as he is short.