Auditions:
DEAD MAN'S CELL PHONE
&
THREE BAGS FULL
Cell Phone - Performances are
February 5, 6 , & 7, 2026
Three Bags - Performances are
March 5, 6 , & 7, 2026
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PLEASE READ ALL INFO BELOW:
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Auditions are open to all current LOHS students with a GPA of 2.0 or higher.
Students need to commit to rehearsals Monday-Friday from 3:40pm-5:40pm, and later the last 2 weeks of the rehearsal process.
Auditions will be held on TUESDAY, November 18th @3:40 in the LOHS Theater. This will be the only audition time for this production, so be sure to arrange to be there. You are welcome to leave after your audition is over, the entire process should be completed by 5:40 at the latest.
Please look at the information below, choose a character from each play, and find their audition piece and come prepared to audition for both plays, please!
Choose one piece per play - they do NOT need to be memorized for the audition.
DEAD MAN'S CELL PHONE:
SYNOPSIS:
An incessantly ringing cell phone in a quiet café. A stranger at the next table who has had enough of it. And a dead man – with a lot of loose ends. Dead Man's Cell Phone is a work about how we remember the dead – and how that memorialization changes us. It is the journey of a woman forced to confront her understanding about morality, redemption, and human connection in a technologically obsessed society.
Sarah Ruhl’s dramedy-satire takes off when a quiet, isolated woman named Jean picks up a dead man’s cell phone, getting entangled in his strange life. As Jean answers his calls she must deal with his family, his mistress, trips to the afterlife, and the black market in Johannesburg? It’s all a little surreal!
Character Descriptions
All characters are any ethnicity.
Jean: (female, 30s-early 40s) The heroine of this quirky tale. Kind, warm, timid but learns to be brave. Very intuitive of others’ emotional needs, yet naïve about her own. Has lived very little life in the time she’s been alive. Always seems small but is the heartbeat of the story. From the script: “Has an insular quality, as though she doesn’t want to take up space.”
**Note: Jean almost NEVER leaves the stage. She is in every scene—and even must perform a little fight choreo! Please only audition for this if you have the time and bandwidth to devote to a lot of line memorization and rehearsal time.
Gordon: (male, 40s) A dead man. Charismatic, charming. Absolutely no moral code—amassed his large fortune as an organ dealer in the black market.
Mrs. Gottlieb: (female, 50s-70s) Gordon’s domineering, intimidating mother. Loved her eldest son, but clearly less impressed with her younger son. Judgmental, selfish, a bit mad.
Dwight: (male, 30s-40s) Gordon’s younger brother and Jean’s love interest. Genuine, sweet, sensitive, a little nerdy about paper. Very different from his brother; has a deep moral code.
Hermia: (female, 30s-40s) Gordon’s widow. Insecure, eccentric. Former ice skater who gave up that life for a loveless marriage to a wealthy criminal. Desperate to be loved and admired.
The Other Woman/The Stranger: (female, 20s-40s) Played by the same person. One is the worldly, beautiful mistress of Gordon. The other is a mysterious, dangerous organ dealer with a Slavic/European accent.
**Will perform a fight scene with Jean and use a stage gun.
THREE BAGS FULL:
SYNOPSIS:
A bright French farce about a greedy merchant who finds himself snookered into being a matchmaker for two daughters, one the child of his wife and the other the maid's offspring. Rebellious young ladies, a comely new maid, pregnant ladies and mistaken identities lead to explosive hilarity. A larcenous employee who has embezzled half a million dollars even offers to return it for a managerial position and the daughter's hand. Half of the loot is in diamonds and half in cash the stashes in separate but identical bags. A third identical bag contains the maid's skivvies.
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CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS:
Many of these characters are in love with one another and will hug and be affectionate, but no smooching this time. 😊
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WOMEN:
KATHLEEN – maid, Irish, dutifully works for Bascom family, but eventually walks out to marry the well to do Preston Cottingham.
ANGELA – Barlow’s daughter. Self-assured, pregnant, a self-proclaimed socialist and social activist who wants to marry the family chauffeur, Boris, the father of her child.
GENEVIEVE - Barlow’s longsuffering wife. The calm in the middle of the storm, she loves her family and her husband, though she worries for his mental state as he unravels during the show. She is a peacemaker and tries to bring everything to best conclusion.
JEANETTE – young woman who is in love with Richard but has lied to him that she is Barlow’s daughter. She is passionate, but a little desperate.
CHARLOTTE – same age as Bascom, a maid, and former lover of Barlow, also, the mother of Jeanette. She is reasonable, but down on her luck.
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MEN:
BASCOM BARLOW – temperamental leader of the Barlow family – hot tempered, conniving, always looking for the best angle. Flusters easily, also a bit of a philanderer.
RICHARD FOYLE – young, ambitious, scheming employee of Barlow who is in love with Barlow’s “daughter” Jeanette and has embezzled money to get the advantage of Barlow when. Asking to marry his daughter and get a promotion.
BORIS – the former family chauffeur. He is in love with Angela, has a bit of a temper and will not tolerate anyone else marrying her.
MR. COTTINGHAM – older gentleman, wealthy, father of Preston. Sees his wealth as not helpful to his son. Firm, set in his ways, also has a bit of a temper.
PRESTON COTTINGHAM – young, brash, filled with “new” ideas about wealth and class – has fallen in love with the maid, Kathleen, and is ready to leave his father’s wealth and get a job and support himself.
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EITHER:
JENKINS – a droll, manservant - non-speaking role, but very physically expressive. Has definite opinions about his boss BASCOM but never says a word.
DEAD MAN'S CELL PHONE:
AUDITION PIECES:
JEAN
(She dials 911.)
Hello?
I think that there is a dead man sitting next to me. I don’t know how he died.
I’m at a cafe. I don’t know.
Should I stay with him?
There seems to be no one working at this cafe. How long?
Thank you.
(She hangs up. She looks at Gordon’s face.)
Do you want me to keep talking until they get here? Gordon, I’m Jean.
You don’t know me.
But you’re going to be just fine. Well, actually—
Don’t worry.
Are you still inside there? How did you die so quietly? I’ll stay with you.
Gordon.
For as long as you need me. I’ll stay with you.
Gordon.
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OTHER WOMAN
Don’t be modest. I like it when a woman knows she’s beautiful. Women nowadays—they don’t know how to walk into a room. A beautiful woman should walk into a room thinking: I am beautiful and I know how to walk in these shoes. There’s so little glamour in the world these days. It makes daily life such a bore.
Women are responsible for enlivening dull places like train stations. There is hardly any pleasure in waiting for a train anymore. The women just—walk in. Horrible shoes. No confidence. Bad posture. A woman should be able to take out her compact and put lipstick on her lips with absolute confidence. No apology.
MRS. GOTTLIEB
(She begins her eulogy.)
I’m not sure what to say. There is, thank God, a vaulted ceiling here. I am relieved to find that there is stained glass and the sensation of height. Even though I am not a religious woman I am glad there are still churches. Thank God there are still people who build churches for the rest of us so that when someone dies or gets married we have a place to—
(A cell phone rings in the back of the church.)
Could someone please turn their freaking cell phone off. There are only one or two sacred places left in the world today. Where there is no ringing. The theater, the church, and the toilet. But some people actually answer their phones in the shitter these days. Some people really do so. How many of you do?
HERMIA
(She is drunk. Referring to Gordon’s cell phone.)
I’m going to bury it. Like the Egyptians. Yes, in the ground, with Gordon.
There was this Belgian man very recently in the news and the undertakers forgot to remove the cell phone from the coffin and it rang during the funeral! Just went on ringing! And the family is suing for negligence Jean—for negligesh—you have to bury it, see—to bury it—very deep so you cannot hear the sound. (Beat.)
Do you know what it’s like marrying the wrong man, Jean? And now—now—even if he was the wrong man, still, he was the man—and I should have spent my life trying to love him instead of wishing he were someone else.
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GORDON
But that day—the day I died—I didn’t want to eat something that reminded me of body parts. I woke up in the morning wanting a lobster bisque. So I get off the subway, go to the cafe, the place I always go. A familiar guy behind the counter, a giant, with really huge knuckles. I said, I’ll have the lobster bisque. He said, sorry we’re out, as though it was a casual, everyday thing to be out of lobster bisque on the day I was going to die, as though I could come back the following week. As though it were a friendly, careless matter—sorry, we’re out.
So I said: Did you have any ten minutes ago?
And the giant said, yes.
I said, is anyone at this restaurant currently eating a lobster bisque?
And the giant said, well yes.
Who?
And he pointed to a woman in the corner. A pale-ish woman, sort of non-descript.
So I say, I will purchase her bowl of soup.
What? He says. I take out my wallet, pull out a hundred.
Then I see it—she is tilting the bowl to the side to scrape out the last bite.
I watch it go into her little mouth, slow motion.
Son of a bitch, I say. I’ll have lentil.
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DWIGHT (with Jean) USE FOR DWIGHT NOT JEAN
DWIGHT: You know why my mother named me Dwight?
JEAN: Nope.
DWIGHT: After the president you might think. But it’s not. It’s because my mother felt sorry for the name. She felt sorry for the name Dwight. She thought it was ignored, pushed aside. So she named me it. Can you imagine how that would affect a child?
JEAN: Did you feel pushed aside?
DWIGHT: Gordon was the mover and shaker. I always sat back a little. (Beat.) You like to remember stuff, don’t you?
JEAN: Yeah. Why?
DWIGHT: I can tell. You’re a little sentimental. It’s nice. You don’t see that much anymore. No one wants to remember anything.
JEAN: I want to remember everything. Even other people’s memories.
DWIGHT: These digital cameras—you know—and all the digital—stuff—the informational bits—flying through the air—no one wants to remember. People say I love you—on cell phones—and where does it go? No paper. Remembering requires paper.
JEAN: Yeah. But maybe the air remembers. Sometimes.
DWIGHT: I hope the air remembers. But I doubt it. I like real things. I like paper. I work at a stationary store.
THREE BAGS FULL
AUDITION PIECES:
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BARLOW:
(Into phone) Hello? Central? 4406 and hurry! (To Genevieve) is everybody happy that I’m mad, mad, md! (Into phone) Hello, Doctor—I mean Preston?...Barlow speaking…remember when you picked up Kathleen’s bag and dropped off mine?...Well, there’s been another slight mix-up—Kathleen came back and exchanged the bag for herself. So, you see, you got the wrong bag again…What? Who’s crazy? No look, you little squirt, you and Kathleen are going to drive me out of my mind! Stop whatever you’re doing and get that bag over here!..What?...Who’s a fathead? …I’ll come down there and—Hello?...Hello?...
PRESTON:
(Coldly.) Father you are making a spectacle of yourself. I don’t want your money, sir! In fact, I refuse to accept it. You heard me. I’m giving up the life of an idle wastrel—Kathleen has taught me what the real things in life are. Tomorrow I begin working for a living. Yes, Father, I am acquiring the franchise for the Pierce-Arrow Automobile and shall open a showroom at Union Square. I need nothing from you, sir. I bid you good day. (To BARLOW). As for you, sir. I warn you—cease annoying my fiancée or it will go hard with you! (To Cottingham). If you wish to see me Father, you will find me at Union Square with the woman I love! (He storms out.)
RICHARD: (Use for RICHARD NOT BARLOW)
RICHARD. Oh sir, what use is there to recount my triumphs? In the last three years I’ve been able to amass—think about this, sir—five hundred thousand dollars.
BARLOW. Five hundred thousand?
RICHARD. Yes, sir!
BARLOW. I don’t recall seeing that in the annual statement.
RICHARD. It’s not in the annual statement, sir.
BARLOW. It isn’t? Then where is it?
RICHARD. (Gently.) I stole it, sir.
BARLOW. (Dazed.) What did you say?
RICHARD. I stole it, sir.
BARLOW. Stop saying that
RICHARD. Sorry, sir.
BARLOW. (Whispers.) Five hundred thousand?
RICHARD. Yes, sir.
BARLOW. Dollars?
RICHARD. Yes, sir. I can easily explain B.B.
BARLOW. Explain? Who would think such a thing possible?
RICHARD. No one, obviously. Which is why it worked so well.
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COTTINGHAM: (Use this for COTTINGHAM NOT BARLOW)
COTTINGHAM. (Convinced that Barlow has lost his mind). Barlow, this is a madhouse! Who are all these people?
BARLOW. Well—some of them I just met—and some of them are old acquaintances.
COTTINGHAM. I see. (Backing away) You’ll have to forgive me, Barlow but I must run—I can see you’re very busy with all your—uh—diamonds—
BARLOW. You think I’m crazy, too, huh? I suppose you don’t think I’ve got diamonds in here, is that is?
COTTINGHAM. (Soothingly) Of course I do. Anything you say, Barlow, anything at all—
BARLOW. Go on! Open it up! Take out that lunch pail and see for yourself!
COTTINGHAM. Please—I’d rather not! Oh, never mind old chap—you get a short rest somewhere—White Sulphur Springs—or go abroad—in a year or two—who knows? (He leaves.)
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BORIS – (Use this for BORIS NOT BARLOW)
BORIS. Now, look, Mr. Barlow, let’s get to the bottom of this! How many people is your daughter engaged to?
BARLOW. Shut up, you moron! You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!
BORIS. (Advances on him) Moron, am I?
BARLOW. Now take it easy, Boris—“moron” was merely a figure of speech—
BORIS. Hah! If you weren’t an old bucket-
BARLOW. Bucket--?
BORIS. --I’d punch you right in the eye. (Now looking at RICHARD) As for you, Foyle—I know your type! Nothing but a toady of the rich! A running dog of capitalism!
ANGELA: (Use for ANGELA -NOT BARLOW)
ANGELA. Oh, Father he’s still so horribly middle-class.
BARLOW. In what way, may I ask?
ANGELA. Coming to you for permission to marry me. He knows I’m a Socialist! I told him I wasn’t at all ready for marriage no—
BARLOW. And when do you expect to be ready, may I ask?
ANGELA. (She shrugs) After I’ve tasted a rich and full life, perhaps. Tell him it’s useless. I’m not getting married just because of your absurd middle-class morality
BARLOW. Don’t you love him?
ANGELA. (A faraway look crosses her eye.) I’m not sure. When he holds me in his arms and I drink life’s ecstasy, I could swear—“Yes, I love him! “But then—after we part—and the tumult dies in my breast I say—“What is love but a strong biological attraction—chemistry, really—but who knows if that’s love?” Do you, Father? (She leaves.)
GENEVIEVE: (Use this for GENEVIEVE NOT BARLOW)
GENEVIEVE. Oh, my dear, it’s not the first time an innocent child has been seduced, believe me, Bascom. Some of our best families have been in precisely this situation.
BARLOW. You mean Angela—is going to have—a baby?
GENEVIEVE. Of course, dear, and we wanted it to be a surprise. I might still work it out—last minute inspirations are sometimes the best—
BARLOW. He did it to me—he did it deliberately!
GENEVIEVE. What are you gibbering about?
BARLOW. I’ll tell you what I’m gibbering about-I’m finished—through!
GENEVIEVE. Darling, don’t worry. It’s all arranged. I’ve booked passage on the Coronia for all of us. And you can certainly use a vacation, Bascom. And you said yourself that the factory is running beautifully!
BARLOW. Tell that child of yours she’s getting married right now!
GENEVIEVE. All right, dear, I’ll tell her. But you know Angela when she makes up her mind! (She smiles.)
KATHLEEN: (Use this for KATHLEEN NOT ANGELA)
KATHLEEN. Oh, my pet, look at me—a mere downstairs maid, engaged to be married to one of the most eligible young men in the City of New York!
ANGELA. You are, who?
KATHLEEN. The eminent polo player, Preston Cottingham, Junior!
ANGELA. Preston? You?
KATHLEEN. (Proudly) Yes, miss—
ANGELA. Oh, no! You mustn’t, Kathleen! He’s not worthy of you—Do you know what he is?
KATHLEEN. Sure I do, miss—he’s a millionaire!
ANGELA. He’s also a parasite—living on unearned excrement—do you know what Mr. Shaw calls that? Mere theft!
KATHLEEN. Ah, you’re a sweet girl, but you don’t know w=a thing about money, dearie. You see—you’ve always had it. (Sarcastically) Oh, and I dare say I’ll drop in now and again to the Socialist Society for the Working Girls of New York—just to encourage the other girls—as an example, you might say. (She waves and leaves very cockily.)
CHARLOTTE : (Use this for CHARLOTTE NOT BARLOW)
BARLOW. You look fine, Charlotte, just fine! What have you been doing all these years? Still living alone—?
CHARLOTTE. No—I have a daughter.
BARLOW. You, too?
CHARLOTTE. Yes, and she’s a lovely girl…engaged to a very nice boy with an excellent job. I haven‘t met him yet, but imagine!—he earns $20,000 a year as general manager of a very big concern.
BARLOW. Twenty thousand? His name wouldn’t be Richard Foyle, by any chance?
CHARLOTTE. You know him?
BARLOW. I’ll say! You’re Jeanette’s mother then?
CHARLOTTE. You know her, too?
BARLOW. (A helpless laugh) I should—she’s my daughter.
CHARLOTTE. Bascom, how did you find out?
BARLOW. (Whispers) Oh, no! No, no, no!
CHARLOTTE. I swore I’d never tell you. It’s all right, Bascom. I’ll never breathe a word—you needn’t worry.
BARLOW. Why didn’t you tell me?
CHARLOTTE. I—I don’t know—I was just a greenhorn—and to tell the truth, I was afraid…
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JEANETTE:
You see, Mr. Barlow, I live with my mother—we’re very poor—And I don’t really know who my father was, but I keep thinking that I’m really an heiress…that he’s rich…and someday I’ll find him…I tell myself lies like that all the time. And what’s worse, I tell other people. (She looks at him helplessly) Oh, Mr. Barlow! If you’ve never been poor, you don’t know how easy it is to lie! I’m really ashamed. I met Richard a year and a half ago—we were having tea on the terrace. There was a large billboard across the street for Barlow’s Sporting Goods. On a ridiculous impulse, which I regretted ever since, I told him I was Jeanette Barlow, heiress. I’m so ashamed, sir! Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive!