Kolony: Cambridge casting call!

Bloke Mahambe - a model citizen who becomes a revolutionary by the end of Act 1. (BAME actors only) The Master - The play's charming, sincere, terrifying antagonist. Conor Byron - an English MPhil, and the play's licensed fool. Lecta Lone - not the hero, but a tired, decent kid who turns the play around. (younger actor) The Kolony - 8 performers playing one character with many bodies.

BLOKE MAHAMBE

Casting note: BAME actors only.
Bloke is 19, verbose, a former HSPS student turned shift manager in the cobalt mine. He has spent his short life surviving — his name is taken, not given, and that tells you everything about where he comes from. When the play opens he is the model citizen: ambitious, loyal, ready to apologise for an accident that wasn't his fault. By the end of Act I he has talked himself into being a revolutionary, called for a public debate with a dictator, and lost. What makes Bloke beautiful to play is that his rebellion isn't cool. It's clumsy, embarrassing, occasionally pompous, and it costs him everything. He quotes Lear. He builds a pirate radio show in a chapel. He genuinely believes one person can change a community, and the play is partly about whether he's right.
You need stamina — Bloke is in almost every scene of Act I — and you need to be able to play earnest sincerity without flinching from how funny it sometimes is. The role is gone after Act I, but he is the ghost the rest of the play is haunted by.
Commitment: Act I only. Lead role in Act I. Approximately 130 lines, including a major speech to the Kolony in the debate scene.
Suggested self-tape extract: Bloke's speech in Act I, Scene 3 — his response to the Master's "I am your dictator" address, beginning "Want. Want… You're still wanting…" and ending "We owe you nothing." This is the role's peak — please bring something risky to it. The temptation is to play it as righteous fury; we are more interested in actors who can find the exhaustion, the grief, and the slightly ridiculous self-mythologising underneath.

THE MASTER

The Master is 156. He is the Kolony's leader, its protector, its god, and its prison guard. He was, on Earth, a war criminal — cybernetically enhanced, used as a weapon by the powers that destroyed the planet, and now he runs Cambridge with what he sincerely believes is benevolence. He is the play's antagonist but he is rarely angry. He smiles. He waits. He gives speeches that are genuinely, troublingly persuasive. Half his power comes from never raising his voice; the other half comes from the fact that he is, when challenged, capable of tearing a man apart with his hands.
This is the most demanding role in the play. He has to be charming enough that you understand why the Kolony loves him, sincere enough that his self-justifications land, and frightening enough that the violence — when it comes — is genuinely awful. He degrades over three acts: in Act I he is at the height of his powers, in Act II he is paranoid, in Act III he is sleep-deprived, alone, talking to a screen. By the final scene he is being ignored, and that needs to be the worst thing that has ever happened to him.
Commitment: All three acts. Lead role. Approximately 180 lines, several long speeches written in blank verse (which the production will support you with — you do not need to come in already comfortable with the metre). Significant rehearsal commitment.
Suggested self-tape extract: The "Hello, Cambridge. I am your dictator." speech in Act I, Scene 3 — from "Hello, Cambridge. I am your dictator." through "I swear it as your protector." Read it twice if you have time: once trying to convince the audience, once trying to convince yourself. We want to see whether you can hold the room without performing power.

CONOR BYRON

Conor is 24, an English MPhil, and from his first entrance he is chained to a pew, dressed in sweat-stained shorts, kept permanently high on a state-mandated drug regimen so that he sees people as shapes — spheres, triangles, cubes. He is also the funniest character in the play. Conor is the play's licensed fool: the only person who can say the truth out loud, partly because he is so visibly broken that nobody takes him seriously, partly because he genuinely doesn't care if he lives or dies. He is Emma's younger brother. He is the reason Bloke wakes up. He is, by Act III, one of the only characters left who remembers what was lost.
The role lives or dies on tonal control. Conor jokes about suicide, blowjobs, and the death of his species in roughly the same breath, and the audience needs to be laughing and afraid for him at the same time. He is in all three acts, but his function shifts: in Act I he is a chained provocateur, in Act II he's the snarky third wheel in his sister's marriage, in Act III he is sober, watchful, almost gentle. The final beat of the play is his — alone, considering the edge of the stage, deciding whether to keep going. Whoever plays Conor needs to earn that moment.
Commitment: All three acts. Lead role. Approximately 110 lines. Physical demands include being visibly chained / unwell for most of Act I and the early scenes of Act II.
Suggested self-tape extract: The exchange with Bloke in Act I, Scene 1 beginning "Not quite yet. See you thought you were free…" through to "Now we can cry about it." Play it as a scene with an off-camera Bloke. We want to see how you handle Conor's comedy — specifically, whether you can make jokes that are this dark land without making them cruel. Optionally, also tape the final monologue ("There's no one here. No one stopping me…") so we can see the other end of the role.

LECTA LONE

Lecta is 17, a maths student, and the first member of the post-Earth generation to crack. She is introduced in Act III as the Master's favourite — the dull, diligent girl who brings him his tea trolley and never asks questions. She is also, it turns out, smarter than he thinks she is, and lonelier than anyone has noticed. The accidental discovery that the Master's monitoring screen has a power-saving mode — and that he genuinely needs to sleep — is the moment the play turns. From there she becomes the closest thing the Kolony has to a leader: not by claiming it, but by being the first person to say no out loud.
Lecta is a wonderful role for a younger actor because she begins almost invisibly and ends standing in front of the Master refusing to pray. Her arc is a single act long but it is one of the cleanest in the play. The note we would offer is that she is not a hero — she is a tired, decent kid who finally gets the chance to act and takes it. The "For Dean Scholz" sequence, where she leads the chorus in a remembrance for a man she never met, is the play's emotional centre and her job to hold.
Commitment: Act III only. Lead role within Act III. Approximately 60 lines. Should expect to attend full rehearsals from the Act III block onwards.
Suggested self-tape extract: Act III, Scene 2 — the "For Dean Scholz" call-and-response, beginning "For Dean Scholz." through to "As Bertrand." You will need to imagine the chorus echoing you. Take it slowly. This is a quiet scene, not a triumphant one. Show me a Lecta who is surprised to find herself doing this.

THE KOLONY (Chorus of 8)

Eight performers playing one character with many bodies. The Kolony witnesses every major event of the play, comments on it under its breath, applauds when told to, and slowly — across three acts — becomes a community capable of saying no. Lines are written as a single block and dispersed in rehearsal, which means this is a properly collaborative ensemble role: we will figure out together who says what, who flinches when, who breaks ranks first.
I am looking for actors who are generous, alert, and unafraid of small choices. The chorus does not get applause-grabbing solos. It gets glances, half-laughs, the wrong reaction at the wrong moment, and the collective intake of breath that makes a room go quiet. Some of the best moments in the play are choric: the Kolony's gossip during the wedding, the silence when Bloke calls his vote, the slow refusal to denounce Lecta in the final scene. There are also small individual moments where a Kolonist steps forward — including the speech in Act I about the bombings in the old Cambridge, which one of you will get to play.
Commitment: All three acts. Ensemble. Line load varies — every Kolony actor will speak across the run, and at least one will get a substantial monologue (the bombing memory in Act I, Scene 2). Rehearsal commitment is significant because choric work needs time.
Suggested self-tape: A monologue of your choice, from any play. Two minutes maximum. Pick something you actually like — We would rather see you alive in a piece you love than dutiful in a piece you think we want. If you also want to record yourself reading the bombing speech from Act I, Scene 2 ("When I grew up in Cambridge, the old one…"), you are very welcome to, but it is not required.

Audition pack: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1OG5Pv3d4FKP-G1Qgip7lSQoJoBGsAMTx?usp=sharing

Any Questions?

Direct any questions about the play, the roles, or the audition process to rg670@cam.ac.uk. We will get back to you within 48 hours.
Thank you for reading this far. We can’t wait to see what you bring.

Contact rg670@cam.ac.uk before 17th May 2026 01:00 for more details.