At one auditorium, a man accompanied by rollicking piano music belts out "Lady" while in the lobby eight neophyte dancers sweat to Jane Fonda commands of two lissome choreographers.

At another auditorium one week later, six actors and actresses sit catatonically in stiff wooden chairs until one bursts into maniacal laughing and each follows suit. When the director claps his hands two minutes later, the sequence reoccurs with piercing screams.

These auditorium scenes are extremely different but they have in common their players. Students auditioning for two upcoming theater productions may not have prepared for the auditions in the same manner, but they shared their nervousness and camaraderie.

In the past two weeks, more than 160 students, predominantly theater majors, tried out for either or both Andrew Lloyd Webber's Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and Peter Weiss' Marat Sade. From atmosphere to preparation, both plays' auditions showed a great disparity.

Joseph director Eric Blume (senior-English / film) said the musical has about 18 production numbers relating the biblical story of Joseph and his 11 brothers. There is relatively little dialogue and the stories filter through such channels as reggae, country-western, and just plain ol' show tunes.

"It could be really classy and it could be really cheesy," Blume said of the play's outcome. "The script is just the biggest piece of cheese I've ever seen. There's no reason for dressing the way they are, or dancing the way they are. It's just an excuse for a bunch of productions strung together," he said as he sawed through a Diner bagel.

A first-time director, Blume said he prepared for his role by reading the script and listening to Joseph music daily, and watching videotapes of similarly structured plays of the time, such as Pippin. From this he gleaned ideas on how the show should flow.

"I don't want the show to be a big production. Y'know -- song, clap, clap, clap," he said, mimicking a pleased, puppet-like audience.

To avoid an awkward string of numbers, Blume said he has concentrated largely on blocking, or staging. Not the least important in achieving a smooth production is having a cast that works well together. Blume said at auditions, he looked for strong vocals, some knowledge of the play, and a good working relationship among cast members because of frequent group songs.

In the dressing room in Schwab Auditorium's basement audition night, auditionees apparently did not need to be told this. At intervals, a maximum of 31 auditionees chatted or sang snatches of their audition songs while waiting for their groups of eight to be called. Stuffed in a small room crackling with excitement, some seemed subdued by auditioning, such as Tom Cunningham (sophomore-liberal arts) and others, such as Paul Sabourin (junior-mass communications), became a conduit for nervous energy.

"I've just been singing, practicing, sleeping, worrying," Cunningham said of his preparation for Joseph. He said he received a Joseph tape as a Christmas gift and had been listening and practicing to it since. As the first auditionee that night for Joseph, and a first-time auditionee for a University theater production, Cunningham said he did not know many of the other auditionees yet; however, he turned to an acquaintance seated next to him and said, "Interview this kid. He's worshipped Joseph since the day he was born."

Paul Sabourin glanced up from filling out an audition sheet and smiled briefly. He attempted writing, talking and tapping his foot all at once; after a while he gave up all together.

"You can throw in your standard 'I'm nervous as hell' quote, underline, underline, underline, explanation -- I mean, exclamation -- point," he said, pacing a 4-by-4 square plot.

Sabourin said he had seen Joseph as a child and had wanted to have a part in it ever since. Asked how he prepared for auditions, Sabourin joked, "Lots of prayer."

"No," he said, turning serious. "I took a while deciding what songs I wanted to sing and worked it with myself in front of the mirror."

Finally, stage manager Stacy Gildenston instructed numbers one through eight to go upstairs to the lobby. With the exception of the director and several other judges, auditions on the Schwab stage were closed. However, the piano and several strident voices could be heard from the lobby as the next group of auditionees practiced a "hellish" dance.

After all eight had vocally auditioned, they gyrated under the guidance of choreographer Barry Mackall and dancer Devon Mills. Rumors spread to the dressing room. The dance was impossible.

After Cunningham returned from vocal auditions and dance practice, he panted "Scratch my name, scratch my name." Then off he trotted to group dance auditions.

Meanwhile, noise in the dressing room had increased volubly. What had first been a somewhat aloof atmosphere had degenerated into a friendly party. Despite nervousness surrounding vocal and dance auditions, many studied class work or discussed outside matters. About two hours after auditions had begun, eight of the 65 total auditionees had passed through stage one of auditions. By Tuesday evening, this total had been whittled down to the 24 roles.

In stark contrast, Marat Sade auditions garnered 96 mentally disturbed auditionees. As director John Neville-Andrews said, Marat Sade is a combination drama and political debate between French Revolutionary figures Jean-Paul Marat and the Marquis de Sade. One of the most interesting aspects of the play is its setting -- an insane asylum at Charenton in France, where the inmates put on plays and had performed even more often when political dissident de sade arrived, said Neville-Andrews.

"It's easier to say someone is insane than to say he's guilty," Neville-Andrews said, explaining in his Wales/London accent the plot of Marat Sade. In the play, sickly Marat lies in a bathtub center stage while the inmates, including de Sade, perform around him. Due to the personalities and situations involved, Neville-Andrews said the play is necessarily both violently and sexually graphic, and includes nudity. He said he will not water down the abrasive visuals; rather, he has substituted a chainsaw for a guillotine because "people can't relate a a guillotine."

Although a former artistic producer of Shakespearean theater, Neville-Andrews has also co-authored Monty Pythonesque plays, produced productions within his own troupe, and once upon a time, directed Marat Sade. However, his main goal for the University's production is to disturb the audience.

"People don't give a damn about this play. I want to make people care," he said. Of the play's intensity and graphic depictions Neville-Andrews said, "The actors, I think, will enjoy it. The audience, I hope, will be upset by it."

Auditions required that each auditionee find a psychological disorder that could be manifested physically. Also each had to laugh hysterically, give a "blood-curdling" scream, perform two monologues, and use a chair in as many interesting ways as possible. In short, each auditionee had to assume the role of a "crazy person" at the clap of a hand, for this is the character that will appear on stage.

"They have to dig down to the personal insanity within them for two and 1 / 2 hours," Neville-Andrews said.

After auditions had finished, the first six auditionees said they had not known what to expect from the audition or Neville-Andrews. As they had filed into 119 Arts Building, Neville-Andrews told each to sit on a chair when he clapped his hands. Then, he had them do the procedure again, but this time in the character of their chosen mental disorder.

Soon, the audition became schizophrenic. Neville-Andrews sat gravely at a long table against the wall, jotting notes and watching the withdrawn auditionees. Unlike Joseph, where each auditionee sang and danced, Marat Sade auditionees screamed.

"I had moments wondering what he was getting from all this," said auditionee Kirsten Olsen (first year-master of fine arts), who based her character's mental disorder on a retarded person who lived near her home.

Of the 96 auditionees vying for 38 spots, many prepared for Marat Sade by poring over psychology books, talking to psychiatrists, visiting insane asylums or basing the character on someone they knew or had met. Mark Brotherton (second year-graduate) said he derived part of his character from his mother, who is a cured agoraphobic. Agoraphobia is a fear of open spaces.

"I watched my mother and her breathing patterns," he said, demonstrating how his mother would gasp when the anxiety hit.

Of the first six auditionees, every one said he or she had added something personal to the mentally disturbed character. However, at least one said maintaining the character might prove difficult.

"I couldn't keep that up for two hours," Olson said as the first set of auditionees swapped stories in the dressing room after auditions. "I'm wiped out now."

Rubbing their temples and running hands through their disheveled hair, the six exhaled some of their tension. As they left the dressing room, some discussed plans for the evening and others discussed their characters. In that way, auditions for Marat Sade and Joseph were not all that different.