Tag Archives: Actors

Hey, Ho, the Wind and the Rain

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The storm rages outside and I have yet to give my dramatic rendition of Lear’s Storm speech so… watch this and forgive me… (I couldn’t do it the justice that Sir Ian does it anyway).

I did, however, get to bring my own storm to light yesterday. In an effort to send the cast of Measure for Measure off to the ball in style, myself and the assistant director ran a three-hour text workshop designed to give the actors some tools in their arsenal with which to tackle Shakespeare’s text.

The cast is rather large since the director really wants to capture the feel of a bustling metropolis. This is both extremely exciting and slightly daunting; with that many bodies the text workshop was going to be whatever the cast made of it. That much energy buzzing around could bolster itself or tear itself down depending upon the level of focus in the room. Luckily, the actors were receptive, came willing to learn, and (most importantly) willing to play.

We began with some standard warm-ups (stretching, vocalization, etc.) and proceeded

Sometimes actor training looks like this; Royal Shakespeare Company; Summer 2006

into an exercise designed to help them simultaneously embody the text and give/take energy. They each picked a line at random out of an envelop of pre-prepared lines, and we divided them into two circles of eleven. From there, we had them pass a ball around their circle while saying their line. We got to play with tempo, volume, targeting, and work on the beginnings of ensemble-building. I find that this exercise presents a graphic stimulus for energy exchange and demonstrates to a group of actors what it means to match energy and help your scene partner onstage. If you throw the ball too hard, your partner has trouble catching it. Too soft, and it will fall short. You need to be ready to grab and go, and listening to what’s going on so that you know when you need to go.

This point made, we moved on to a head/guts/groin exercise where the students practiced delivering their lines with different intentions to different targets on a partner. The three primary targets are the head (an appeal to the intellect), the guts (an appeal to the emotions), and groin (an appeal to the primal animal portion of ourselves). We had them do this at varying distances; from close enough to touch to across a broad expanse of the room. This exercise teaches focus and helps a young actor get used to the notion that no line should ever be delivered to dead air or left wandering into the vast nothingness of the theatre. Every single bit of text needs a very specific target and intention; whether that target is onstage or off.

Next, we talked about some mechanical things. Scansion, meter, rhyme, verse structure, poetry v. prose, etc. This was perhaps the most difficult portion to teach as it requires the most lecturing and, in a room where the energy is already buzzing from being up and about for so long, it’s hard to focus down on something so academic (even for a brief time). The actors were champs though and really bit into this section, asked some good questions, and worked with me to ensure that they understood what I was preaching.

Lastly, we turned to some speeches we had asked them to pre-prepare (not memorize, just be familiar with and have on hand). Here, they were able to take what we had discussed and discovered and apply it in a setting where they could take risks, ask questions, and try things without being set in any one choice since the speeches were sample text and not necessarily text which belonged to their characters. Everyone got a chance to play and seeing what they turned up (and what they understood from each other) helped to drive home the work we had done over the course of the evening.

The most important thing to do during workshops like this is to keep the energy moving. The workshop leader always needs to have a finger on the pulse of the room; understand when your students are tired and know how to give them a break without letting the bottom drop out of your thought progression. Know where you need to go slowly so that the students have time to think and process. If you can possibly integrate some kind of exercise to drive a point home, do that.

There are three basic types of learning: audio, visual, and kinesthetic. Most people learn via a combination of the three. If you can find a way to appeal to all these learning types simultaneously, your point has a higher likelihood of sticking. In addition, while a picture may be worth a thousand words, an experience is worth ten thousand. Let the students feel what it’s like to succeed using your methods. With this experience banked, they are much more likely to a) want to do what you’ve asked them to do, b) learn more methods from you since the first one worked so well, and c) listen to what you have to say in general. There’s nothing like proving you’re right to make a group of people believe in your wisdom.

One of the things I’ve always admired about good acting teachers (and directors, for that matter) is that they almost seem omniscient. There’s a way about a good acting teacher that pierces deep down to your very soul and uncovers insecurities that you could never before put into words. They have, somehow, the ability to weed out the things that make you weak as an actor (and human being) so that your true strength shines through.

Sometimes actor training looks like this; Shakespeare & Company; Summer 2007.

It’s also what I’ve always found so intimidating about teaching acting. While I know a lot and have a lot of experience (and, by the way, an abundance of modesty), I’m hardly omniscient. I’ve had many great acting teachers and coaches find a way into the deepest recesses of my soul and it’s changed me not just as an actor, but a human being. How can I possibly hope to assert myself amongst the ranks of people who have near-godlike powers of observation at their disposal?

As I found out yesterday, the years have given me the wisdom to teach, and the confidence to command a room. I felt really good walking out of workshop, and I think it was extremely useful to the cast to have that experience. I am looking forward to working on Measure and definitely looking forward to what this cast churns out. They’ve got some acting chops, let’s see if they can bring this work to bear on some pretty difficult and problematic text.

The Rosalind Diaries: Entry Nine; Leaving Arden

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Well, that was fun.

The curtain has fallen for the last time in Arden and, I have to say, I well and truly miss it.

Begging Celia to tell me who hung the verses on the trees. “ORLANDO!?”

There are things that I had forgotten about being an actor. Things that I worked to remove from my memory (didn’t have to try very hard as I tend to forget negativity nearly instantaneously). One of those things is that awful feeling of emptiness you get as you leave the theatre for the last time after a show.

I’ve been living with this show since July. I got the happy phone call at the beginning of the summer and, ever since, Rosalind has been a presence at the back of my mind. She’s been part of my identity. The elation at having the opportunity to play her after a lifetime of wanting to and never thinking I’d get the chance, the thrill of falling in love every night, the knowledge that I’m speaking and working with words I’ve so long desired to resound in a roomful of audience members, it’s all been part of me.

And of course you become reliant upon the cast members and you forge relationships with these people with whom you’ve worked closely over the past several months. And the routine of going to rehearsal patterns your life. And the things you have to do to keep yourself going through the process are an ever-present factor in your day.

And, just like that, it’s all over. You strike the magnificent set down to bare stage, walk out of the theatre, and suddenly this world is gone and lives only in memory and archive. It’s an emptiness, a loneliness, and a feeling of utter hopelessness. Like, for a few brief moments, you just don’t know who you are anymore because this show has become part of you and, without it, some vital piece of your identity is missing.

As I told my cast-mate via text on Sunday: “Theatre is ephemeral. Each show is its own creature that lives and dies every night. I’d be pretty hard-hearted not to mourn a little creature that I loved”.

The only hope is in the next project; another bundle that will, inevitably, worm its way into your heart and stay there for a few months before the universe forcibly ejects it into the ether.

And then there’s the nature of acting in general. It’s one thing to conceptualize of the protean nature of the actor from a purely ideological standpoint, it’s another to live that nature. The constant shifting and changing, re-arranging and re-thinking of the self that an actor must do in order to fully commit to a role is utterly astounding. I marvel at the tenacity of spirit that it requires to constantly be doing this. In order to fully act a role, you really need to build yourself around that role and, when the show ends, rip yourself apart again. Imagine the emotional integrity required to do this (well) without going absolutely insane.

requisite “I’m a Shakespearean Actor speaking” shot.

Oh yes, I was an actor in my younger years, but I really don’t think I understood acting until this production. Good actors require three things: some innate sense of natural talent, a vast amount of life experience, and training. Before this year, I had one and three, but was distinctly lacking in two. It’s truly unfortunate that acting is, for the most part, a young person’s field and yet, to become a great actor, you really require a lifetime of banked experience.

It’s why you see so many thirty-year-old Hamlets. The emotional maturity required for the role simply out-stripes the role itself.

I’ll admit it. I’m hooked again. The course of this production has made me recall the things I did love about theatre; and the things I didn’t love about theatre can (for the most part) be avoided by doing it as a hobby rather than a profession. It churns my stomach to think about auditioning as a lifestyle (again). I would rather not ever hear the words “type”, “marketability”, or “Equity Principle Auditions”. For that, there are shows I would like to perform and roles I would love to play. There are things I want to bring to the stage that I feel I am qualified to do.

And more than that, the joy that the rehearsal process brought me really added a layer to my life that went missing in my fondly-dubbed “retirement”. It’s not enough just to study theatre. To truly understand it, we have to live it. Theatre’s a lifestyle, not a field of purely academic discipline.

So, with that in mind, I’ve got some projects up my sleeve. I’ve got some willing cohorts. I may even have a willing venue.

Let’s see what we can make. You’d best keep your eye on that first folio, because the bitch is back.

The Rosalind Diaries; Entry Five: Suit the Action to the Word

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Ah yes, now we’re into the thick of it.

At this point in the rehearsal process, we are, mostly, off book.  Which means that it’s time to start doing some real acting.  Which also means that it’s time to draw forth from those deep emotional wells, make choices, enact them, and shape our performance into something that looks a lot more like a finished product.

Basically, this is the hard part.

As a young actor, this is what I had the most trouble with (and still, by the by, plagues me

Me in “The Laramie Project” circa 2003

to this day).  I think a lot.  In fact, it’s my job to think.  As a result, when I’m acting, I tend to be “in my head” (which is a fancy way of saying that I’m trying too hard and not doing enough).  Having been through the extensive training that I have been through, I’ve picked up tricks along to way.  I’ve uncovered ways to express through the text things which don’t require actual emotion but can trick a casual viewer into thinking I’m feeling something.  It’s a good way to color the text, and a good adjunct strategy, but can’t bear the full weight of a performance.  At the end of the day, it doesn’t amount to anything genuine.  And I’m a firm believer that, if theatre is to be effective, it has to have a kernel of truth.

The problem with feeling emotion is that it’s messy.  Acting is a hideous, horrible profession that will destroy you emotionally and physically if you let it.  An actor is paid to get up onstage eight times a week and reveal the deepest, darkest, scariest parts of himself to an audience of strangers who will then pass judgment on the depths of that actor’s soul.

In my opinion, nobody gets paid enough to do that.

So why do we do it?

Because it feels good.  Because being connected to one’s own humanity in that way, and by extension the humanity of one’s audience, makes one feel whole.  Like a cog in the universal machine.  It makes one feel potent; like one can actually effect (and, by the by, affect) something.  Like a catalyst.  Like one has a true meaning and purpose in the giant planet earth that we live in and, larger than that, the human experience.

“Rosalind, Celia, and Touchstone: 2.3” engraving by Henry William Bunbury; 1792

But it’s hard, and it takes it’s toll.  As You Like it is a comedy and still there are days when I find myself feeling raw after rehearsal.  Particularly tough for me is 1.3.  At the top of the scene, Rosalind is giddy in love having just met and exchanged words with Orlando for the first time.  It’s a high; a rush; and if I hit it right I wind up giggley and soaring.  Halfway through the scene, Duke Frederick enters to banish Rosalind from the court.  He tears away everything she has ever known and says that she must leave, on pain of death.  If we hit that right, the bottom drops out of my stomach and the gravity of the situation weighs heavily on my shoulders.  My heart grays and it’s almost as though a cloud has come to darken my little section of the world.  Even if Rosalind fights back (which, by the by, she does as much as she can), I’m still left feeling bitter and angry.  Then, after Frederick’s exit, Celia devises the plan to go to the woods and dress as beggars.  Rosalind and Celia expound upon this plan and Rosalind bounces back up from the devastation of her banishment into the possibility of their retreat to Arden.  Arden; where her father is, where she can dress as a man and have the freedom not allotted her in the court, where a whole new life awaits her and her best friend.  It’s not the same unerring giddiness that the top of the scene brings, but it’s definitely a step up from the scene’s middle.

It’s an emotional roller coaster, and one that I have to ride in the span of a few minutes.  In performance it’s devastating enough, but consider that in rehearsal we hash and re-hash these scenes over and over again.  In a single night I could do this three or four times; bouncing wildly from top to bottom and all across the spectrum of emotions.

It’s no wonder rehearsals make me tired and hungry.

Last night, we did some work on 4.3 and 3.4; both scenes that begin with Rosalind waiting for Orlando who is late to meet Rosalind (dressed as Ganymede).  3.4 especially requires an emotional investment in the roller coaster that inevitably comes with “he likes me, he likes me not” since it opens with Rosalind bouncing around the stage wondering what it means that Orlando didn’t come when he said he would and Celia making sly commentary on her state.  If I don’t put in the emotional investment, then Celia is stuck being snarky for no reason.  Up, down, up, down, it’s enough to make a girl dizzy.  4.3 also requires some of that kind of work, but the majority of the scene is taken up by Oliver’s description of his encounter with Orlando in the woods and the battle with the lion, so much of my acting is nonverbal (easier, by the by, since I don’t have to then worry about the impulse to speak and what’s coming out of my mouth).  Still, there has to be enough of an investment from me that my faint at the scene’s end is justified, comical, and makes sense.

So I’ve been coming home tired a lot, and I’ve had to do a great deal of emotional housekeeping.  This has mostly involved the copious watching of Disney films and My Little Ponies because, really, who can be distraught while belting “I use antlers in all of my decorating!”?

Next week we’re into runs (first act runs, then full-show runs).  This should prove slightly less taxing since I get to take a much larger chunk of the journey far fewer times in a night; but we’ll see.  I’ll still have the emergency princess stash queued and ready to go.

Happy Tuesday!

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It’s been a while, so as is my wont now and again… it’s random list time!

1)    For those who have not heard, I have been cajoled out of retirement to play the part of Rosalind for the Winthrop Playmakers’ production of As you Like It!  This is a dream part for me and one, due to the small-mindedness of most professional casting folks, that I wouldn’t normally be given the chance to play.  I’m extremely excited (especially because my script came yesterday) and can’t wait to get down and dirty with the Bard.  The show performs October 5-14 Friday, Saturday, Sunday, so mark your calendars.  Should be lots of fun, and if nothing else you can come laugh at how rusty my acting skills are.

2)    My partner in crime and I took a trip down to New York this weekend past so that I could take him to see Sleep no More.  This show has been making a big splash in the

Gallow Green, the awesome rooftop bar they just added to SNM

theatre communities due to its fairly revolutionary approach to Shakespeare and its rampantly successful run in New York.  Half theatre, half art installation (I described it pretty well in my post post-first-visit); Sleep no More combines Macbeth andHitchcock’s Rebecca to weave a non-linear story of murder, terror, and uncanny humanity.  Due to the free-form interaction audiences have with the experience, I saw a lot this time that I missed the first time.  I also had the privilege of two one-on-ones (for those not in the know: during this show, actors will grab random unsuspecting audience members, lock them in rooms, and perform private vignettes for only those audience members to see), and a “fetch quest” (was given something to give to someone else which then made things happen).  If you’re at all curious, GO SEE IT.  I’m being purposefully vague because I truly think that everyone should experience this show at least once (and you’re going to want to go more than that, trust me, my partner in crime and I are already looking to schedule another trip).

3)    Life without the internet is hard!  Last week, a giant thunderstorm brought in its wake the demise of our interwebs for the period of four laborious days.  I will admit, I got a great deal done during that time which otherwise would have remained a wish and a dream (like cleaning out my closet and re-organizing my shoes), and the local coffee house did lend itself well to practicing my German since I actually couldn’t leave until I had finished my goal for the day, but I am more than glad to be able to google random bits from my own chair again.

4)    Thirty hours in New York is nowhere near long enough.  While I did get to spend most of my waking time wandering Central Park and/or eating wonderful food, this time was just long enough to make me remember how much I sorely miss home.  Boston’s great but it ain’t New York.  Sigh.

5)    Changing up one’s exercise routine is a great way to keep oneself motivated to go to the gym, a great way to kick one’s own buttocks, and a great way to sleep better at night.  In an effort to push my cardio to the next level, I started C25K as part of my cardio regime.  There are all kinds of resources available for folks who are interested in the program (including a free app for your iPhone that remembers where you are in the program, checks off workouts you’ve already done, keeps track of time for you, lets you pipe in your music during your jog, and congratulates you when you finish a workout).  This summer, I’ve been really hitting the gym hard in an effort to boost my endorphin dependence before the semester starts and, as a byproduct, boost my required gym time by about two hours a week.  Working out has a plethora of health benefits, which I’m certain you’re aware of, but I’m mostly concerned with how it helps me manage stress.  Also with how morally superior it makes me feel.  Yea, I work out, I’m automatically better than a couch-sitter.

6)    Paper writing is a long-term aspiration, not a short-term project.  They’re called “projects” for a reason, so I should think of them more as something that I live with than something that I can do in a reasonable amount of time.  Also, I shouldn’t over-commit to the number I can handle on my desk at any given moment.  Also, I should remember that a good paper is like a fine wine: letting it sit on a shelf and age for a bit will improve its overall quality, but let it sit too long and it turns to vinegar.

7)    I will be seeing some exciting theatre this week (including Coriolanus on Boston Common, and the Boston Opera Collective’s production of Orpheus in the Underworld … god do I love Offenbach).  Stay tuned!

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