The Girl Failure of Modern Stunt Casting: Theatre’s Obsession with Female Risk Taking

If there’s anything that gives Girl Failure its name, it’s the bittersweet fate of Succession’s corporate ice-queen, Siobhan Roy. She might’ve edged herself closer to the WayStar RoyCo gearsticks than her brothers, but tethered by womb and wedding ring to the company’s new CEO, she hardly landed on her feet.

Sarah Snook, who plays Shiv, has recently been announced as the star of an Australian production of ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’, which will transfer to London’s West End next year. But if you thought Snook thrived embodying Shiv’s two faces, be ready to see her conjure an extra 24, because this unique re-imagining of Oscar Wilde’s classic novel offers her a whopping 26 different roles, playing every character. 

Other tests of endurance have proved to be popular on London stages recently. In the award-winning Prima Facie, actress Jodie Comer showcases her thespian flare onstage for 100 minutes alone, performing as a sexual assault case lawyer having to face with the realities of her own system after being harassed herself. Pushing yourself is a fundamental aspect of being an actor, but I wonder – as the expectation for actresses to perform in these ‘boundary pushing’ productions grows – whether theatres are beginning to tailor their marketing to emphasise outlandish casting or concepts that seem just a little too impossible. And are they feeding us a buzz almost entirely based on the risk that their leading lady might fail? 

___STEADY_PAYWALL___

The phrase “stunt casting” refers to the act of hiring larger-scale celebrities for either lead or cameo roles, for the benefit of hiking up ticket sales. I was, for example, gagged to see Maude Apatow as the gauche and gaudy Sally Bowles, in the London production of Cabaret – despite the swathes of nepo baby backlash she’s been hounded with as of late – while the now memeified ‘2:22 A Ghost Story’, showing currently at London’s Apollo Theatre, has made itself infamous for the rogue casting choices of its focal female character, Jenny. Lily Allen felt valid, but Laura Whitmore? Cheryl Cole?

Shows like this have taken stunt casting on the West End from a cheap marketing ploy typically found in pantos and kitschy Broadway musicals, into its own culture of theatrical Guess Who? But when these cast rotations are shared with the public via countdown posts and teasers, it’s often only their leading ladies that fall into topical discussion: I for one don’t remember Joe Sugg receiving the same uproar about his part in the West End production of Waitress. 

These celebrity roles can be infuriating, because there are so many underrepresented actors with endless unseen talent, struggling to break into the industry. But for female celebrities, the controversy over stunt casting can also fall into the way that society constantly expects newness from modern women. 

Taking a glance at the typical magazine headline, male celebrities are afforded the privacy of a hiatus much more than women: they aren’t haunted by same demands for constant new projects, and after a two week break from Twitter they aren’t badgered by comments speculating about where they’ve gone. And where people entering acting from other professions are concerned, taking a step into the West End could symbolise a newfound passion, but it might also be provoked by the pressure of constantly needing to offer something different. With the likes of Whitmore and Cole, we were so ready for these women to capsize before they even set foot on the stage. Why is it that society expects newness from women, but only within the brackets of the worlds they currently occupy?

“Taking a glance at the typical magazine headline, male celebrities are afforded the privacy of a hiatus much more than women: they aren’t haunted by same demands for constant new projects.”

This takes on a new tone with regards to Sarah Snook’s upcoming performance. Already an A-list actress and having previously appeared on London’s stage in 2016, it’s not her talent itself that’s brought into question, but more so the extent to which the adaptation is attempting to stretch it. Having just wrapped the final season of HBO’s Succession, starred in the new Netflix film Run, Rabbit, Run (a drain on her talent), as well as giving birth, this extraordinary concept of playing so many roles is something we’re all sure that Snook will knock out the park, but once again, it feels like female relevance is attached to constant activity. 

The adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Grey that Snook will be appearing in previously starred Australian actress Eryn Jean Norwill. A story about narcissism, re-working the narrative into an all-encompassing one-woman show, is a concept I actually quite like. But as Snook has found herself iconised through Shiv as the emblem of Girl Failure, I wonder if the angle of the adaptation’s coverage attempts to wedge her into an eclectic, messy performance months before the show even begins its run? Already dubbed a ‘demanding role’ by trade newspaper articles, publications are falling over themselves to note that Snook only has ‘seven months to prepare’. While they pose no strong judgement, it feels strangely implied that they’re expecting her to deliver in a ‘well, you tried’, Shiv Roy kinda way.

We have such an instinctual cringe towards the limits of female effort. Stunt casting alone has proved a clever marketing move for theatres attempting to modernise their reputation from historically high-brow, but where female stardom is becoming its own endurance test, are the concepts of stunt casting and Girl Failure so mortifyingly irresistible for us that theatres are beginning to capitalise on it? Not only is it seemingly the next big cash cow, but in allowing public opinion to focus on casting over concept, perhaps stunt casting, particularly of actresses, is being used to detract attention from productions’ other shortcomings.

Words: Mia Autumn Roe