How to succeed in the crazy Cambridge theatre world without really trying
With next week seeing the opening of this year’s ADC Freshers’ shows, Fred Maynard gives those with hopes of becoming big thesps his tips on climbing to the higher echelons of the theatre scene

Make use of the ADC Bar.
This place is not just any bar. We’re not talking about the questionable cocktail ideas (A drink named after an anti-Nazi resistance movement, anyone?) or the late opening hours or the cheap prices. The bar is the hub for that most hallowed of thespian traditions, schmoozing. Staying here late into the night will be key to your progress in the theatrical world. For example: you’ve just seen a play with a good actor in it.
You’d quite like to direct a play with good actors in it. You corner said actor in the bar afterwards, tell him how good he was, buy him a few drinks and casually mention how awesome it would be to work together some time. Job done.
Make friends with techies.
Not the most obvious step, since you’ll rarely see technical types until the run itself, at which point they might seem to drift out of reach, wandering around in hard hats saying important things about counterweights. But they are actually really friendly and knowing them well can come in handy if you ever want to put on a play yourself. Nothing looks more impressive on an application than having a well-known Technical Director on board. To say nothing of the benefits of techie secret society ‘Shaft Of Darkness’.
Make friends with reviewers.
In the small Cambridge world, it’s inevitable that you’ll probably bump into the people assigned to critique your play. Make the most of it!
While Varsity makes every effort to ensure its reviews are impartial, we’re not fool-proof. Any thinking actor will urge their friends to review the play they’re in, ensure good notices for themselves, and then hope the Theatre Editor is not quite enough of a Facebook-stalker to spot the connection. (But he is. Ed.)
Use The Tab’s comment feature wisely.
Where the Varsity website forces you to put your name to your opinion and therefore be, well, cogent, the Tab website lets you run wild with your anonymous opinions. Get a bad review?
Comment on the article posing as a neutral audience member who was bowled over by your brilliance. Readers will have no possible reason to doubt your authenticity. Be sure to hit back at any negative commentators in outrage.
Intimidate the opposition in audition queues.
Remember, to get into a play you don’t necessarily have to be good. You just have to be better than everyone else who auditions. For this reason it’s wise to freak out anyone who’s in the queue ahead of you.
Pretend to be immensely competent by walking up and down sirening, stretching, and generally looking like you’ve just popped down from RADA. Also say things to other auditionees like “I’ve heard they’re going for a Stanivslavkian approach, but my emotion memory’s terrible, how’s yours?” Hopefully they’ll break down before they even reach the front.
Use Camdram inventively.
The online repository of everyone in the drama world and everything they’ve done is the first port of call for any director looking for personnel for a new show. It’s in your interest to appear as many times as possible to get noticed, and make your profile look stuffed full. Try to get friends with shows to add you to their show entry in spurious positions: Creative Supervisor, Verse Engineer, Motivation Co-ordinator. No one will ever know.
Produce.
Freshers usually don’t think about producing because it wasn’t one of the things you did at school, but it’s great for your progress in the theatre world. You’re essentially the person in charge of networking, and if you’re good at being an impresario you can bully, cajole, flirt and manipulate your way into being a Big Name simply through the mystique of your apparent omnipotence.
Be posh.
It’s the age of the New Posh, and what with Benedict Cumberbatch, Eddie Redmayne, and Dan Stevens doing so well, there’s never been a better time for actors to have gone to Eton and have killer cheekbones. Since posh people are usually pretty theatrical anyway on account of not having to give a fuck about what anyone thinks of them, you can convince people you’re a good actor just by having a conversation with them. And if you’re a director, the natural sound of command in your voice will instil confidence in any cast.
Ignore your degree.
Face it, you didn’t come here to do any work You’re going to need every hour you can get if you want to rack up those ADC mainshows, and it’s not like Ian McKellen or Derek Jacobi now care whether they went to lectures or not. After all, who needs a 2.1 when you’re going to be playing Hamlet at the Old Vic? Which you definitely will be. Definitely.
Put on Shakespeare.
If all else fails, apply to direct a Shakespeare play. Theatre managers know they bring in ticket sales, you’ll get something impressive to put on your CV – it’s win-win. It’s not like it actually has to be good – it’s Shakespeare, right?
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