When I Wasn’t Cast Because I Wasn’t "Leading Material" and What Directors Should Know

by Chris Peterson

There’s a story I’ve never told publicly. Years ago, I auditioned for a production I was genuinely excited about. I sang well, read the sides with confidence, even got a few laughs in the room. But after callbacks, the director pulled me aside and said, “You’re very talented. But I just don’t see you as a romantic lead.”

I knew exactly what that meant. I wasn’t conventionally attractive enough. Not for that role, not for that director, and apparently not for that show.

It stung. And not because I thought I was cute as a button or entitled to the role, but because I was being dismissed for something that had nothing to do with my skills, my training, or the work I put in. What hurt most was that it wasn’t framed with care. It was a comment tossed off casually, like it wouldn’t land or linger. But it did.

And I know I’m not alone.

Theatre students, early-career actors, and even seasoned professionals can all recall moments where rejection came not because they lacked ability, but because someone else couldn’t imagine them in a certain type of role. There’s an unspoken and sometimes spoken standard that says if you don’t look a certain way, you don’t belong center stage.

This needs to change. And directors are the ones who can start that change.

Casting is subjective. Directors are entitled to their vision. But if that vision is built around outdated or narrow ideas of beauty, it’s worth asking why. Are we serving the story or serving the stereotype? Are we imagining a world on stage that reflects the full spectrum of humanity or just the polished version we’ve been conditioned to expect?

But let’s say, for argument’s sake, that a director really does believe a role needs to be played by someone with a certain look. If that’s the case, and if someone auditions who doesn’t fit that vision but shows up with talent and heart, then at the very least, that person deserves respect.

So here’s some advice, from someone who’s been on the receiving end of the wrong way to do it:

First, say less.

If someone doesn’t get the part, you usually don’t need to explain. A simple “we went in a different direction” is enough. If you’re not offering feedback that will help the actor grow, then don’t offer commentary at all. The moment you bring looks into the conversation, you risk causing lasting damage. Silence can be kindness. Silence can preserve dignity.

Second, don’t frame limitations as facts.

Saying “you’re not leading material” isn’t just unkind. It’s short-sighted. People grow. The industry evolves. What isn’t true today might be true in a year, or in a different production with a more imaginative director. Someone else’s box doesn’t define another person’s future. Directors must stop speaking as if their taste is gospel. It rarely holds up over time.

Third, check your biases.

If you’re consistently casting the same body type or facial structure as the love interest, ask yourself why. Is it really about what the story needs or just what you’re used to seeing? Challenging your own instincts might open up new and better choices. Theatre isn’t television. You don’t need to mimic Hollywood’s shallow standards. You get to set your own.

Finally, remember that actors are people.

They’re not just tools to fulfill your concept. They’re artists bringing vulnerability into the room. When you dismiss someone based on appearance, you might be undermining their confidence far beyond that audition. You never know the story they carry, or what it took for them to walk into that room in the first place.

I’ve carried that memory for years. And for a while, I let it shrink the way I saw myself. But eventually, I realized that one person’s vision doesn’t define my value. And it certainly doesn’t define yours.

To any actor who has ever been told they don’t “look the part,” keep showing up. The stage needs you. And to any director reading this, please cast boldly, cast kindly, and cast with imagination. Because theatre, at its best, sees beauty in places others overlook.