I would like to point out that another word often associated with aspects of “shorthand” but usually with a much darker connotation, is “coding.” I won’t go too deep into this word as there are others who have analyzed its meaning and use it far better than I. Suffice it to say that it tends to refer to an often derogatory stereotype of a marginalized group that is used as a racist/homophobic/transphobic (etc.) “shorthand” to imply that a character belongs to said group without explicitly confirming it in the text.

For a further discussion and examples of one aspect (queer coding) check out The Take’s video essay: “Queer Coding, Explained – Hidden in Plain Sight” Lindsay Ellis has another great video essay on the film “Bright” that goes into racial coding called “Bright: The Apotheosis of Lazy Worldbuilding.”

Unfortunately, both “shorthand” and “coding” can lead to stereotyping (of greater or lesser degrees.) Note how many performers will wear glasses for a photoshoot or to an audition where they are supposed to look “nerdy” or even simply “smart.”

Apparently one of J K Rowling’s biggest concerns about casting Hermione in the “Harry Potter” films was that creatives would simply “stick a girl in glasses” instead of looking for an actress with the real “essence” of Hermione. (This example cuts a little deeper when you look at the casting of the West End/Broadway play “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” where Noma Dumezweni, a Black actress was cast as Hermione. She certainly had the essence, but many fans couldn’t get over the fact that she wasn’t the right “type” which, after the casting of Emma Watson in the films, if not before, had come in the zeitgeist to mean “white.” Never mind that the only descriptors of Hermione in the book were: big, bushy hair (check for both Watson and Dumezweni) and buck teeth for the first couple of books only.)

But when “typing” and “short-handing” work, they work because they’re simple, effective ways to give the audience context. Like I said above with the “Hercules” example, it’s not possible to give a dissertation to the audience explaining the history, nuances, and other pertinent information needed to have an utterly complete understanding of the elements of a given story. Hey, most of the time audiences don’t even read the program.

There have been serious discussions over the years about the importance/effectiveness of the optional Director or Writer’s note in a program. There have been cases when productions have relied on the audience reading this note in order to get them information vital to understanding the story they’re about to see. But what about the audience members who didn’t read it? Is it laudable that the creators provided the audience with that information? Or laughable that someone would expect anything other than what’s onstage to be vital to the understanding of the production? In most instances, the argument falls on the latter.

But here’s where it starts getting tricky…

Let’s take the Broadway production of “Aladdin.” “Aladdin” is set in the fictional Agrabah which is described in the narration of the Disney film as being near the Jordan River, but is also described as being where “caravan camels roam” which is less frequent near the River Jordan and more frequent in the Arabian countries of Morocco and Algeria. The film also draws influences from the Middle East and South Asia in general (note the depiction of the Taj Mahal.) So suffice it to say, if you asked the filmmakers, they would likely say the story is set “in the Middle East” (which is in itself problematic as it is lumping every person and culture within a vast array of countries into a single, generic identity.) But even taking the generic “Middle Eastern” setting, the Broadway production received criticism for not casting Middle Eastern performers in many of the roles.

A counterargument was raised. This show takes place in “the Middle East.” Regardless of personal identity, the performers needed to “shorthand” Middle Eastern identity to the audience. The question was asked – what do you do in a situation where, say, you’re trying to cast a “Middle Eastern” role and you’re down to the two best candidates: one is of Middle Eastern descent, but has very light skin, blue eyes, and light-colored hair…the other is not of Middle Eastern descent but has darker skin, and darker hair and eyes.

Since the audience is not guaranteed to have all the context, one would assume, if the first actor was cast, that there would be a huge uproar that a seeming Caucasian person was cast in a Middle Eastern role. It cannot be guaranteed that every audience member would have access to the information that that actor was in fact Middle Eastern, even if the production made it a part of every marketing tool they had (not to mention the fact that the actor might not want their “Middle Eastern” identity splashed on commercials, in news articles, etc. to justify their casting (on the flip side, maybe they would welcome the chance to broaden the general public’s understanding of what a “Middle Eastern” person “looks like.”))

So there was a feeling from the production of “we’re damned if we do, damned if we don’t, and in this case, we thought shorthand was more important than accurate identity casting.”

And, of course, one of the many downsides to this is it puts actors in a box – and a box that’s not always accurate because it erases identity nuances and has broader social effects…when Middle Eastern characters are only ever depicted as looking one-way people start to assume that’s the only way that real Middle Eastern people look and…we can see where this rabbit hole is going…

This has all been extremely relevant to the longtime conversation about casting based on overt physical differences and in and of itself contains numerous issues, each deserving of its own in-depth conversation (or several.) The neutral idea of short-handing quickly gives way to coding, to stereotyping, and lots of other awful things.

Now I think it’s important to remember that within this nuanced issue there are instances where, I believe, the vast majority of people would agree that casting based on what you physically ARE is important. Most of these instances strongly relate to stories being told about people who physically are X, Y, or Z. For example, I think most people would agree that the role of Celie in “The Color Purple” should be played by someone who is Black. (I would be fascinated to know if someone disagrees with that and what their argument is…)

But what about stories about differently-abled characters? Most commercial productions of “The Miracle Worker” have featured a seeing/hearing artist as Helen Keller. Though it’s a throwback, most productions of “Heidi” have cast the wheelchair-bound Clara with a walking actress. The argument in these cases is that traditionally abled artists are needed because of the other factors that go into putting on a show (i.e. theoretically it would be challenging to cast a deaf, blind child actress as Helen Keller and safely bring them through the rehearsal and performance process.) Whether that’s true or not is, again, fodder for another discussion specifically on this topic.

On the flip side, the wonderful Broadway revival of “Spring Awakening” showed how casting deaf artists in deaf roles can immensely enhance a production from creation on, and how seeming challenges can lead to brilliant ideas and choices that would never have been thought of otherwise.

But what about the times when none of this is important? What about stories where overt, physical characteristics have nothing to do with the story being told? What about “Cinderella?” “Dear Evan Hansen?” And many more? Often, I’ve found, necessary “short-handing” has been confused with “archetype” or even “stereotype.” Why does it seem to be so hard for some productions to be able to separate what is absolutely necessary for a role and what, actually, isn’t?

Let’s use Christine from “The Phantom of the Opera” as a case study.

Traditionally Christine has been cast as a white, cis, able-bodied woman between the ages of 18 and, oh, late ‘20s/early ’30s? Who is 5’7’’ or under and is a soprano.

What here is absolutely necessary to the telling of the story? Let’s take it point by point.

White – not necessary. Some may argue that the story takes place in 1870 Paris and non-white people would not historically have been in an Opera company. Hold on there…in 1851 soprano Elizabeth Taylor Greenfield became a Black pop star in America when she toured the country, performing at the Metropolitan Hall in NYC and later at Buckingham Palace.

Theodore Drury founded an Opera company in 1900 and Asian Opera is (probably) the oldest form of Opera in the world …Christine is a young orphan whose father was a famous violinist. In the show it says her last name is Swedish – that has nothing to do with her ethnicity. Guess what? There were non-white people everywhere in the world in the 1800s…and the show says nothing about the ethnicity of either of her parents…just her last name.

Cis – also not necessarily. The performer playing Christine does have certain vocal requirements and, since I’m pretty sure no one’s going to go dramatically changing the keys of most of the score, those vocal requirements will likely stick no matter what. But as long as the artist can sing the material, there’s nothing in the texts that makes it necessary for Christine to be a cis woman.

Able-bodied – Since Christine has to dance in the corps of an Opera ballet company (and this is important to advancing the plot) she must at least be able to execute the choreography.

Woman (female-identifying) – This could theoretically be up for debate, but I’m going to land on the side of, yes, Christine, in this production, probably needs to be a woman. On the technical side, there are the roles in the “shows within the shows” Christine needs to play, which are female, second, the story hinges on the fact that Christine is a young dancer in the corps of the Opera ballet. Given the way the ballets have been staged, the corps is made up of female dancers, with one or two male dancers doing small side roles. For her to be a “nobody in the chorus” plucked out into stardom in this world, being female-identifying is part of the storytelling.

Between the ages of 18-late 20’s/early 30’s – yeah, this is a requirement. Christine in the text is a very young woman – young enough that she’s in the corps in the Opera ballet, young enough that it hasn’t been that long since her father died, young enough for no one to really have heard her sing, or to have her debut yet, and young enough that her only experiences with romance are the Phantom and Raul saving her red scarf. So the performer needs to believably pass as someone between the ages of, say, 16 and 20-something?

5’7’’ or under – yeah, this is a (slightly) flexible, but generally hard and fast rule that relates to the age question above. On stage height translates to age…it’s annoying, but it’s true. Teen children will always be cast as shorter than their parents, teens/young adults will always be cast shorter than older characters. Because of this, there’s a height cut-off for any Phantom cast member playing Christine, Meg, or any of the young dancers.

Is a soprano – yes, as mentioned above, it’s highly unlikely they would change keys for most of the score to accommodate anyone…

So what do we actually have? Outside of any personal opinions of the creative team, for storytelling purposes, in this production of “Phantom”, Christine must be a female-identifying person between the ages of 18 and early 20’s/30’s, 5’7’’ or under who is a soprano and can execute ballet choreography.

That’s a very different breakdown.

Or another example: Ado Annie in “Oklahoma.”

The only aspects that are ABSOLUTELY necessary to the casting of this role are: Female identifying (she does sing a song called “I’m Just a Girl Who Can’t Say No,”) age-wise – a peer of Laurie’s, comic, and a person who owns and revels in their sexuality.

Look at Ali Stroker – a wonderful performer who is wheelchair-bound. She won a Tony for playing Ado Annie and it was a shock to most people that this role could be played by someone in a wheelchair.

I would like to add that both here, and throughout my discussion, there may be communities or groups of people that I inadvertently don’t mention specifically. Please forgive me if that’s the case and know that I am intending to include all marginalized communities in this discussion – everything is applicable to everyone.

And one issue I want to briefly touch upon is the issue of “size.” This is an issue that will straddle both sides of this discussion as for some their body type isn’t, for others it is a choice. But unless something to do with your physical makeup is a part of the story being told (one of the few cases that come to mind is Tracy Turnblad being a larger girl being an active and important part of the storytelling of “Hairspray,”) I think this is a topic that needs a separate in-depth discussion as it delves more into industry bias than story requirements (unless something about an artist’s physical make up excludes them from a necessary requirement of the show.) One person who is speaking brilliantly about this (specifically in the dance world) is the wonderful Kathryn Morgan who was a soloist with the New York City Ballet. Please check her out! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lD0xB8VNzSk&t=15s

But can casting can ever truly be “color/able blind” full stop, end of statement? Ignoring race/ableism isn’t necessarily the best thing. It depends on the situation. In the Brandy version of “Cinderella”, there were multiple races represented and they simply created a world where a lot of negative things had to be overcome, but race wasn’t one of them (for example, Cinderella was a Black woman, her stepmother was white, and her stepsisters were Black and white respectively – so, though her stepmother was awful, it was never because of Cinderella’s race which, in another casting universe, could have become a central focus.)

On the flip side, I have seen different productions of shows where nothing changed in the script, but the lead actress was cast with women of different races – making some things hit in VERY different ways that should have been addressed by a dramaturgical team and the company in the direction of the show.