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Coughlin is an external actor, and pulls his audience in—"I think empathy is the most important thing an actor can have," he says. He is animated, energetic and open on stage and is very likeable as a result, a quality that can't be taught or overrated. He sings an emotionally rich "When the World Stopped Turning" from "Elegies: A Song Cycle," and fully inhabits it—so much so that his eyes fill up when he finishes and he walks to the window to collect himself.

Vaughn tells him it won't work to walk away, just as he shouldn't have looked at the floor earlier. "The character's objective is to get back out in the world," Vaughn says. "Portray that." Every word the actor sings deserves a thoughtful treatment because it helps the audience enter the scene. She asks him to make a bigger differentiation between the words "skewed" and "blurred." "Build on the difference between those words, and sustain the emotional intensity. It's called 'riding the air.'"

Casting directors are less impressed with technical expertise than one might think. While Loy is technically impressive when she sings "Home" from "Phantom of the Opera" and "Look At Me," two challenging pieces that require excellent breath control, Vaughn asks her not to go to "voice land." "They will cast a superb storyteller with an average-to-good voice over someone with a fabulous voice and no storytelling skills," Vaughn says. They can make the storyteller a better singer with voice lessons. The emotional connection that comes with being a good storyteller can be encouraged but not taught. "They're looking for human beings, not human doings."

Ethan Thomas gets, perhaps, the most difficult task from Vaughn. He performs a monologue, "The Patriarchal God," from the play "And God Says (!@#?!)" by UNH professor David Kaye. He plays God as a formidable, impatient, insensitive coach. Vaughn asks him to portray him as ironic and unstable instead.

Ethan Eliot Thomas Special Skills Juggle: three balls and three clubs, Contact juggle. Break dancing: wind mill. Funny fake knuckle cracking sound.

Someone else might flinch, but Thomas, who is an intellectual, process-oriented actor, appreciates the challenge. He flips it effortlessly, changing his inflections, gestures and the emotional impact of the piece. "How did that feel?" Vaughn asks him. "Crazy!" he says. "It was a fascinating process—a nice little mixer-upper." "Treat it as an exercise," she recommends. "Incorporate some of it, or none. Don't expect the people you audition for to laugh. Just remember to hang on to your objective—if you do, it will land."

Here's another central paradox of the profession: even if you've done a thousand performances, it has to feel brand new every time. About 30 casting people brave the storm to watch the showcase company's evening performance, which on the whole, feels confident and energetic, even joyful in places, and, well, professional. The work they've done all day allows them to trust their instincts. If the showcase experience is what it purports to be—a bridge from your old life as a college student to your new one as a professional actor—it feels like all four showcase students have crossed it.

The audience members feel it, too. They are given a sheet of paper on which they can indicate which actors they'd like to see again—there is a column for "Call me when you get into the city," and one that reads "Contact me immediately." All the students get several "call me's" and at least one "contact me immediately."

Afterward, the students compare notes. They were terrified before—now they're pumped. They think they can work with bigwigs; it's not that different from working with professors. The feedback they're hearing from casting agents they've heard before from their professors, and that's reassuring.

Thomas says the experience points up something else for him: "My social life has definitely taken a hit from working in the theater so much. I gotta work on my schmoozing skills."

Coughlin seems to be the most adept at schmoozing—"Kris cleaned house!" Hadwen says at the end of the night. He also has the most oddly encouraging experience of the weekend. A well-known casting director approaches him after a reception, and without introducing himself, takes him aside and says quietly, "You're going to be on Broadway. But I want you to remember something. A lot of people who make it get cocky and stop training. Make sure you keep training." And then he disappears. ~

Also read: A Year of Celebration

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