Let’s Talk About the Audition Fee Red Flag

by Chris Peterson

Every winter, thousands of high school theatre kids pin their hopes on college auditions. They prepare monologues, songs, and dance combinations, rehearse them to perfection, and then hit “submit” on the application portal—often with a sigh of relief followed by a sting to the wallet.

I want to talk about those audition fees. Not the ones tied to the standard university application—that’s its own problem—but the separate, add-on “audition processing” or “portfolio review” charges that some theatre programs tack on. To me, that’s a red flag. Not just because of the money, but because of what it says about a university’s priorities.

If a college or conservatory claims to champion access, diversity, and inclusion in the arts, but requires an extra fee just to let a student audition, it’s sending a mixed message. That charge doesn’t just “cover administrative costs.” It functions as a barrier. It tells talented students from lower-income backgrounds that their artistry will always come second to a checkbook. And it tells me that the larger university might not be supporting its theatre department nearly as much as it should.

Take the University of Southern California, for example—one of the most prestigious theatre programs in the country. USC’s School of Dramatic Arts lists a non-refundable audition fee ranging from $20 to $35 for certain undergraduate programs. When I see that, it doesn’t read as a sign of prestige; it reads as a signal that the program is being forced to self-fund through its applicants. It says, “We value your talent, but we need your payment first.”

On the East Coast, Syracuse University does the same. Their Department of Drama requires a $50 prescreen audition fee just to submit your video monologue. Fifty dollars may not sound like much to some, but when you’re applying to multiple programs—each with their own “processing fees,” travel costs, and housing for callbacks—it adds up fast. The message becomes clear: you’re expected to pay to prove your talent.

Rider University takes a similar approach, requiring a non-refundable $50 audition/interview fee to even register for your audition. Shenandoah University goes a step further, listing an $80 audition fee for musical theatre applicants. At that point, we’re talking about nearly the cost of a full college application just to be considered for one program. And again, none of that money guarantees anything—not even feedback.

And I say this as someone who’s helped run auditions for college theatre programs. I’ve worked for two incredibly well-known performing arts colleges, both of which managed to run successful, organized, and equitable auditions without charging a separate audition fee. It can be done. It is done. This makes it even harder to justify when other schools claim they can’t make it work without passing the cost onto students.

Strong programs don’t rely on audition fees to stay afloat. They’re supported by universities that understand the value of the arts and invest in them accordingly.

When I see a theatre department forced to self-fund through these fees, I see a deeper issue: an administration that loves to feature its arts programs on brochures, but doesn’t back them up financially.

Yes, auditions take resources. Faculty must review videos, rent space, coordinate schedules. But so do football tryouts, scholarship interviews, and science fairs—and you don’t see those applicants paying an extra fee to participate.

If the theatre department is being told to offset costs through audition fees, it’s not just unfair—it’s revealing. It shows exactly how much the institution values its artists compared to its athletes.

The arts are supposed to be about breaking barriers, not building financial ones. Charging a kid to audition sends the message that talent is something to be bought, not nurtured. It’s performative inclusivity—saying, “We welcome everyone,” while quietly adding, “as long as you can pay for entry.”

So here’s my take: if a theatre program can’t cover its audition process without charging the very students it claims to champion, it might be time for the larger university to take a hard look in the mirror. Because the arts shouldn’t be self-funded through the dreams of 17-year-olds.

A truly great theatre program invests in access. It fights for scholarships, waives audition fees, and advocates for every student who loves the craft enough to apply. Anything less? That’s a red flag waving loud and clear.