The Dolly Casting “Search” That Wasn’t — And Why It Matters

by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder

So let me get this straight: we were told there was going to be a wide-open, accessible, anyone-can-do-it casting search to find the next Dolly Parton — and then they just… didn’t?

Let’s rewind. Back in December, Dolly: An Original Musical announced an open call, inviting hopefuls from across the country to submit tapes of themselves singing Dolly songs. The promise was big: they were searching for “Dollys” to play the queen of country at various points in her life. It was pitched as a golden opportunity for new talent. For fresh faces. For undiscovered performers with grit and sparkle and a little twang. Thousands submitted. Fifteen finalists were chosen. Broadway forums buzzed with speculation. Social media lit up. Hope felt real.

And then came the actual casting announcement: the three leads were going to Katie Rose Clarke, Carrie St. Louis, and Quinn Titcomb — all talented women with Broadway credits or established résumés. No one from the open call. Not one of the fifteen finalists. Not even a nod.

Let me be clear: this is not about slamming the women who were cast. They’re professionals and they’ll probably be terrific. This is about how we treat artists who aren’t “in the room where it happens” yet. This is about how we dangle opportunity in front of hopefuls to generate buzz, build followers, create engagement—and then snatch it away when it’s time to get serious.

Because let’s not pretend this open call was ever about finding the next great unknown. It was a marketing stunt. A clever bit of PR designed to make people feel like anyone could be Dolly. And in reality? The decisions had likely already been made.

And here’s the kicker—it’s happened before.

Remember the Annie revival in 2012? Big open call. Thousands of adorable hopefuls. Lots of press. And the role went to Lilla Crawford, who had already starred on Broadway in Billy Elliot. With Frozen, Disney staged a massive open call and made a big show of inclusivity, only to go with industry mainstays like Caissie Levy and Patti Murin. Glee launched a whole reality show (The Glee Project) to find the next big thing—and cast people who were already repped and working.

This isn’t a new trick. It’s just getting more obvious.

Sure, the Dolly producers included a tidy sentence saying that two of the open call performers will appear “in some capacity” in the Nashville company. But what does that mean? Ensemble? One scene and gone? “Featured extra in a press release”? Come on. If this open call was truly about finding fresh talent to lead a new Broadway-bound musical, then prove it. Cast someone new. Take the risk. Honor the promise you made when you invited thousands of artists to send in their videos and their dreams.

Because that’s what open calls are supposed to be: promises. They are the one remaining sliver of hope for performers without an agent, without a Manhattan zip code, without family money or BFA networks. They say, “You can be seen.” They say, “You have a shot.” When those promises are broken, it does more than hurt feelings. It breaks trust. It erodes faith in the system. It sends a very clear message: thanks for the free press, now step aside so we can do what we were going to do anyway.

And let’s talk about why this stings so much. This isn’t just any show. This is Dolly Parton we’re talking about. The woman is a living legend, a symbol of authenticity and accessibility. She came from nothing, forged her own path, bet on herself again and again. Her story is the stuff of inspiration—the idea that if you’ve got talent, heart, and hustle, you can make it. That’s the whole point of her legacy. So to take her name and her story and tie it to a performative casting search with no payoff? That’s not just misleading. It feels downright disrespectful to the values Dolly’s career has always stood for.

And look—I understand this is a business. I know producers have investors to please and ticket sales to secure. But if you’re not going to seriously consider unknowns, then don’t launch an open call. Don’t frame your marketing campaign as an act of generosity. Don’t offer people hope and visibility if you never planned to deliver. Be honest. Say you’re looking for buzz, or content, or community engagement. But don’t pretend it’s a casting opportunity when it’s clearly not.

Because what if one of those fifteen finalists was the next Dolly? What if the point wasn’t to find the most polished Broadway vet, but the performer who feels like Dolly—raw, real, a little rough around the edges but full of fire? What if we’re not just missing a casting opportunity… but a chance to tell the story honestly?

Broadway keeps telling us it wants to be more inclusive, more representative, more open. Great. Then start by actually opening the door. Not just cracking it for a photo op.