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Acting role
Supporting
AUNT CORA
Melanated Christmas · Film
Casting requirements
Age range
45–55
Gender
Female
Ethnicity
African American
Openings
1 slot
About the role
A likely family elder who helps Mia see the Ball is about community, legacy, and showing up for one another.
- Occupation
- community elder
- Core traits
- wise, warm, grounded, emotionally perceptive
- What they want
- Help Mia understand the Ball is about more than perfection.
- Inner need
- To pass down perspective with warmth and clarity.
- Main conflict
- Help Mia pull the Ball back toward its true purpose when pressure turns it into a perfection test.
- Arc
- mentor-affirmation
- Voice
- warm, direct, reassuring
- Performance range
- Warm, grounded, wise, emotionally resonant
- Required abilities
- Deliver heartfelt guidance with natural authority
- Preferred abilities
- Subtle humor, family-drama ease
- Physical performance
- Minimal
- Accent
- Standard American
- Language
- English
- Comparable performances
- Beloved auntie energy, warm and quietly commanding
- Audition sides
- The realization scene with Mia about the Ball's deeper meaning
- Casting notes
- Should feel like a believable family elder tied to community history
The character breakdown from the writers, so you know who you'd be playing.
Audition sides
Scene 20 INT. BALLROOM VENUE - LATE AFTERNOON
The ballroom has thinned out. Setup noise continues at a distance, but the energy around Mia's command table has cooled into that particular silence embarrassment leaves behind. The abandoned coffee cup still sits on the side table near the entrance. MIA BROOKS stands very still among open folders, sponsor printouts, and the legal pad that still reads RECOVERY PLAN.
JANESSA MOSS lingers near a box of candle rings, unsure whether to disappear or be useful.
MIA BROOKS
(without looking up)
Janessa, take those charger counts back from the top. Separate broken, usable, and questionable. I don't want one more creative interpretation.
JANESSA MOSS
(small)
Okay.
MIA BROOKS
And send me every entertainment contact you've touched, even if the answer was no.
JANESSA MOSS
I already started a list.
MIA BROOKS
(finally looking up)
Good. Finish it.
Janessa nods and hurries off. Mia exhales once, sharp and contained. She reaches for the coffee cup on the side table. Sees it. Stops.
She looks toward the doorway Montez exited through. Empty.
Mia sets the cup back down untouched, returns to the table, flips open a folder, and stares at a page without reading it.
AUNT CORA
(offscreen)
Baby, if you keep looking at that paper that hard, it's not gon' turn into different news.
Mia looks up. AUNT CORA stands a few feet away, elegant in a winter coat and church hat, holding a tin of wrapped cookies and a calm that makes the room feel less frantic.
MIA BROOKS
Aunt Cora. I didn't know you were here.
AUNT CORA
Mm-hmm. I brought hospitality and walked in on tension.
Aunt Cora sets the tin down beside a stack of programs, taking in the half-finished tables, the paperwork, and Mia's face in one practiced glance.
AUNT CORA
(gently)
You alright?
MIA BROOKS
(automatic)
I'm fine.
AUNT CORA
I know that answer. That's the one high-functioning women give right before their spirit sits down somewhere without them.
Mia lets out the faintest breath of almost-laughter. It disappears quickly.
MIA BROOKS
We lost entertainment. A sponsor reduced their contribution. Ms. Evelyn is watching me like she's reconsidering her decision. And apparently my past has started making venue appearances.
AUNT CORA
(taking that in)
That is a full afternoon.
MIA BROOKS
I should have had every loose end locked. I should have confirmed more myself. I should have seen all of this before it got near the room.
AUNT CORA
Maybe.
AUNT CORA
(then)
And maybe you done got so busy trying not to drop anything that you forgot, this Ball was never yours to carry alone.
Mia stiffens a fraction. There it is — the truth she does not want.
MIA BROOKS
I am the one responsible.
AUNT CORA
Responsible and not solitary.
MIA BROOKS
(tight)
It doesn't look strong when things start slipping and I need rescue.
AUNT CORA
Baby, who told you receiving help is the same as needing rescue?
That lands. Mia looks down, rearranges a stack that is already straight.
AUNT CORA
You think strength is gripping tighter. Sometimes strength is knowing what belongs in your hands and what belongs in God's.
MIA BROOKS
(quietly)
If I let go right now, this whole thing could fall apart.
AUNT CORA
No. If you keep confusing control with stewardship, you might fall apart before the Ball does.
Mia absorbs that in silence. Across the ballroom, two ELDERS laugh softly while sorting programs. A ladder squeaks. Somebody tests a strand of lights. Life keeps moving.
AUNT CORA
(softly)
You know what the first Ball looked like?
MIA BROOKS
I've seen the photos.
AUNT CORA
Photos lie politely. That first year, half the candles leaned, somebody's nephew played piano too slow, and the punch ran out early.
MIA BROOKS
Mia blinks, surprised.
AUNT CORA
But people still talk about that night like it was glory.
MIA BROOKS
Why?
AUNT CORA
(simple)
Because folks felt loved in the room.
A beat. That truth opens something Mia has been holding shut.
AUNT CORA
This Ball was born so our people could see themselves in beauty when life outside was not always beautiful. That means something. But it does not mean perfection. It means presence. Warmth. Dignity. Joy.
AUNT CORA
(closer)
Baby, what holds a thing like this together is not one woman's exhaustion. It's community. It's legacy. It's everybody bringing what they have and trusting God to bless the rest.
Mia's eyes flick again to the untouched coffee cup. Then to the open room. Then down to her own hands braced against the table.
MIA BROOKS
(low)
I don't know if I remember how to do that.
AUNT CORA
Then maybe Christmas is an excellent time to remember.
Aunt Cora reaches over and closes the folder Mia has been pretending to read.
AUNT CORA
Eat one cookie. Breathe.
Mia looks at the cookie tin, then at Aunt Cora. For once, she does not reach for a clipboard, a correction, or a clever answer. She just stands there -- tired enough to tell the truth.
MIA BROOKS
(quietly)
I know how to manage.
A beat. Mia swallows hard, eyes dropping to the command table.
MIA BROOKS
I do not know how to do all this messy.
AUNT CORA
(gentle)
Baby, messy is where people live.
AUNT CORA
Love is messy. Family is messy. Community is messy. Even grace will ruin a good seating chart.
That gets the smallest laugh out of Mia. It breaks something open in her.
MIA BROOKS
(low)
I really thought if I stayed on top of everything, I could keep it from going wrong.
AUNT CORA
Mm. And how's that been treating your peace?
Mia exhales. No defense left.
MIA BROOKS
(honest)
I'm tired.
Aunt Cora nods like that is the first fully true thing Mia has said all day.
AUNT CORA
I know.
AUNT CORA
(softly)
You done made an altar out of holding it all.
That lands deep. Mia looks up at her.
AUNT CORA
And baby, control will ask for everything and still never promise you peace back.
MIA BROOKS
(barely)
I don't want to fail in front of all these people.
AUNT CORA
Then stop performing for them.
Mia blinks.
AUNT CORA
Lead them. Let them love this Ball with you. Let them carry what is theirs to carry.
AUNT CORA
(then)
And let God be God.
The room hums around them -- tape ripping, chairs moving, quiet laughter from the far side of the ballroom. For the first time, Mia really hears it. Not chaos. People.
CLOSE ON the abandoned coffee cup near the doorway.
CLOSE ON the legal pad: RECOVERY PLAN.
CLOSE ON Mia's face as the pieces begin to rearrange.
MIA BROOKS
(quietly)
I pushed him away.
AUNT CORA
Mm-hmm.
MIA BROOKS
He was trying to help, and I made it about... control. Optics. All the things I know how to hide behind when I'm scared.
AUNT CORA
(kind)
Then don't hide behind them no more.
Aunt Cora opens the cookie tin, takes one out, and presses it into Mia's hand.
AUNT CORA
Eat the cookie.
Mia looks at it, then actually laughs -- small, surprised, needed.
MIA BROOKS
That is your whole recovery strategy?
AUNT CORA
(matter-of-fact)
No. First you eat the cookie. Then you ask for help.
Mia takes a bite. It buys her just enough stillness to think clearly.
AUNT CORA
You got local musicians all over this Eastside. Elders who remember what this Ball is supposed to feel like. Family that would come in here tonight if you asked. That young man who looked halfway sick walking out that door with them coffees.
Mia drops her eyes. Busted.
AUNT CORA
(gently)
Baby, people cannot show up for a door you keep bolted.
Mia nods once. Slow. Real.
MIA BROOKS
(quietly)
The Ball was never supposed to prove I could do everything alone.
AUNT CORA
There you go.
MIA BROOKS
It was supposed to feel like us.
AUNT CORA
Exactly.
Mia looks out across the ballroom again -- the half-finished tables, the archive photos, the people still working. This time she sees resources, not failures.
MIA BROOKS
(steadier)
Okay.
AUNT CORA
I do love when "okay" means something.
MIA BROOKS
I need replacement entertainment. Local. Good. I need to call Tiffany. I need to talk to Ms. Evelyn before she has to come find me again.
She reaches for her phone -- then stops, looking to Aunt Cora first.
MIA BROOKS
(small)
And I need to call Montez.
AUNT CORA
(approving)
Now you sound saved and sensible.
Mia laughs through the last of her emotion, shaking her head. Aunt Cora squeezes her hand once.
AUNT CORA
You don't need perfect, baby. You need honest. Then build from there.
Mia nods. This time, she means it. She picks up her phone, then tears the page off her legal pad.
INSERT -- She flips RECOVERY PLAN over and writes in firm, clean letters: COMMUNITY PLAN.
Mia looks at the new words a beat, then heads toward the center of the ballroom with fresh purpose.
CUT TO:
Record yourself, upload it to YouTube (unlisted is fine), Google Drive, Vimeo or Dropbox, and paste the link with your application. Make sure the link can be viewed by anyone who has it.
Skills required
- Deliver heartfelt guidance with natural authority
- Subtle humor
- family-drama ease
- Warm storytelling presence
About the project
Mia Brooks is a gifted, tightly controlled event planner who creates warmth and elegance for everyone but herself. As Christmas lights and community traditions fill the Eastside, Mia’s own apartment remains bare, reflecting how emotionally closed off she has become. In client meetings she is sharp, funny, and impeccably professional, but she shuts down even harmless flirtation and keeps real connection at arm’s length. At her office, her loyal friend Tiffany Hall notices the cracks beneath Mia’s polish, especially when Mia reacts to a call from Kevin Rush, a man who seems to represent an old pattern of disappointment and inconsistency. Tiffany also shares a rumor that the Eastside’s prestigious Melanated Christmas Ball may need a new planner. Though Mia is clearly intrigued, she doubts that talent alone is enough to gain entry into such a legacy event and worries she will never truly be trusted in those circles. Later, at her parents’ Christmas-filled home, Mia is surrounded by easy family love, ritual, and partnership. Watching her parents and her sister Nadia move through their relationships with comfort and familiarity forces Mia to confront what is missing in her own life. In a quiet kitchen conversation, she admits that despite her success, she expected to have built a fuller life by now, not just a flawless schedule. The excerpt ends with Mia exposed in her loneliness, setting up a story about ambition, belonging, and the possibility of love.