 The casting director’s lofty office is wallpapered with headshots of the discovered and the hopeful. All of the glossy, starry eyes seem to watch Jane as she walks across the room. They watch and wait. As the very tanned casting director (she just vacationed in Hawaii) settles into her chair, her office hums with morning activity. The air conditioner rattles slightly, gearing up to fight the heat of another summer day. Catherine Head (Alderman’s associate casting director) sits at her desk in the adjoining room. The familiar pulsating dial tone indicates that she’s checking her e-mail. It is a typical Tuesday morning at this River North office and Alderman is handed a typical pile of mail—a stack of headshots separated into submissions from talent agents for specific projects and unsolicited material from actors called 'takes.’ This small office receives over 150 pictures a week. "That is why it is so important that they have something going on," says Alderman. She is referring to the whole package, not just the headshot; the cover letter and resume are as crucial as the picture. Alderman puts aside the paper clipped submissions and tackles the takes of the day. "I look at them very quickly, that’s why the picture—being a good one—is important. And that it’s neat, so I don’t think they’re cuckoo," she says without a glimmer of comedy, underscoring how many cuckoos she has to circumnavigate. As cool as a dealer in Vegas, Alderman shuffles through these actors. The first photo is put aside. "No big deal. It’s not jumping out at me and I’m not looking for it." Next. "Hmmm. Interesting picture, smiling guy. I’m going to see what his credits are. Quite a bit of theatre. I’ll hold on to him. Maybe I’ll meet with him one day." Next picture. "This one has a very ethnic name. He’s of mixed ethnicity. I’m going to hold on to him because it might serve me down the line when I’m looking for that." Moving on. "Another nice picture, but nothing jumping out at me so I’ll leave that." She leaves a very attractive 20-something woman with perfect teeth and an appealing smile. "There are 3,000 women just like her." Next. "This person is obviously a model. She says she’s 14 and she apparently plays the violin. So although I am not interested in a model, because she’s 14 and seems to be multi-talented with a violin, you never know. I’ll keep her." Phew. Here is where three summers of juggling for your brother’s backyard big top makes the difference. She moves back to the discarded pile—discarded but not thrown away. With what seems like a mixture of caution and compassion, Alderman gives them a second pass. Her manicured hands flip the photos over, looking for credentials that will save them from the trash. "Now these poor souls. I’m just wondering if there’s anything they’ve done. Nothing jumping out at me. What has she done?," Alderman asks, peering at the photo of the woman with nice teeth. "A lot of improv," she notes with a shimmer of a spark in her eye. "I better pay attention to that because people always come here for improv and anyone’s who’s been with Second City , Annoyance, ImprovOlympic. Especially the Los Angeles comedy people. They’re always looking for that so I need to know who they are." And with that Smiley is saved. She will now be filed in the Women drawer. And Alderman will remember her for a while. So if LA calls within the next month or two looking for a comedic female actor, her fingers know where to fly. Improv, often referred to as acting’s bastard cousin, gets called up to the head table. Next. "Now this poor soul doesn’t have any credits whatsoever. She’s come out of a school that does not even have acting, so…" The wrist flips the headshot into the trash. But the gesture is not flippant. "The reason that cruelty exists is that we don’t have time to be kind to every picture that we come across," Alderman says. Her advice for actors is guarded. She measures her words carefully, not wanting to give out blanket words of wisdom which may smother the actor’s spirit. "Sitting under a rock isn’t going to help anybody," she says. "It’s important to see that the actor is keeping afloat with getting their pictures and postcards out, getting into a play and such. And between all of that, that’s how we meet them. It might take a long time. Sometimes it’s the beautiful people, sometimes it’s the young people, sometimes the black people. I have no idea what it is we’re looking for. Sometimes it’s just a fascinating picture." What about training? Alderman again moves toward improv. "Improv is something that is very impressive and important to me in that I think that it’s extraordinary training. It’s such a wonderful tool…it teaches them extraordinary concentration and an awareness about them," she says. She breaks down the content of the cover letter without blinking an eye. "Who, how long you have been here, training, talent agent, what you’re in." If actors can include those elements—have something in their photo that jumps at Alderman, have interesting training and experience, perhaps they can be involved in the myriad of projects Alderman casting is continually working on. Current projects include the resilient "Early Edition," now in its fourth season as a Chicago-produced network series; NBC’s hit show "E.R.," which comes here for specific scenes; "People Who Fear People," an ABC pilot; and "Passions," an NBC soap opera. She just finished casting the independent film Bored Silly, currently shooting in Woodstock, Ill. Chicago was not always such a productive town. Judging from the amount of work being cast, it is a productive town now—despite such failures as "Cupid" and "Turks," despite the weather and the uncompetitive taxes. But Alderman remembers a quieter start. She worked for an agency and was an actress in New York in the 1960’s where she learned about the international theatrical scene. She moved to Chicago in 1966. "I thought I should do something more substantial than act, which is ludicrous because anything in our business isn’t stable at all," she says. She saw a huge need for casting directors here. "It was sort of flotsam and jetsom here. By the 80’s I was thinking, my God, as an actress I can’t bear it anymore. That’s what actors need is a casting director to funnel this through. " In 1980 Alderman got divorced. "There was a need and I also needed to get on with my life after my divorce and try to take care of [her son] Jason and myself. Of course it was pretty tough going for a while, but I just started and my guardian angels were with me and it all worked out," she says. And the eyes on the wall continue their purposeful gaze, some playful, some stoic. All hoping that Jane Alderman is their guardian angel. |
Chicago Casting Director Jane Alderman Holds All the Cards by Katie O'Mara
