One Step Ahead

I didn't work in class on Saturday - the cards just didn't fall that way. Which was fine because I was wearing really uncomfortable shoes so I don't know how well I would have done anyway. But one thing did occur to me about my classmates: we all sit there and watch everyone else's exercises. We know what kinds of questions the teacher is going to ask in regard to our preparation. Why don't we ask ourselves those same questions when putting our activities together before class so that we are prepared?

I try to. I know the teacher is going to set me up to want something from my partner, so as I think about each exercise and what I'll be doing, I try to think of what I could possibly want from another person. That might change when I find out which of my classmates I'll be working with, but it's good to have an option, or to have at least considered it. A couple of my classmates have created situations full of despair, but when asked why they are so desperate, they can't come up with specifics. Why not? Pull something out of your ass if you have to. You want to kill yourself because your husband just died and you can't bear to be without him. Which means you could also want love and affection and attention from someone else (i.e. your scene partner), and the thought of that could make you feel really guilty and if you get it...see? That's a scene. As opposed to, "I want to die because I'm messed up and I don't really want anything." That's boring to watch. It's boring to hear about. And it's really funny to me that some of my classmates are having so much trouble with this because the one instructor has told us probably five times now to take risks, to use our imaginations, and to just friggin' try things. I don't think this is the kind of setting wherein either teacher is going to tell us it's too far out there to think that if my sister makes it over before the place is clean, she's going to smack the shit out of me, and then drag me to the airport kicking and screaming, burning down my apartment on the way out. That would light a fire under your ass to clean the place up, wouldn't it? Nice, high stakes. Nice, imaginary situation. But what it will produce is nice, real reactions and emotions. And if you look at the really good movies or plays you've seen, there is almost always some element of the fantastic or extraordinary involved. If this wasn't an atypical day, nobody would have written a play about it. Even "Seinfeld," the show about nothing, managed to elevate the urgency of nothing to epic proportions - Jerry stealing the last loaf of marble rye from a little old lady on the street, the fight with the Soup Nazi, Kramer in general. All of these situations start out normal - he needs bread to take to a party, they're trying to buy lunch - but they get pushed into the ridiculous because for some reason, it is WAY more important that this happen today than any other day and if it doesn't happen today, somebody is going to die. That level of urgency, that level of desperation is what makes something engaging to watch. That level of urgency is what is going to push you as an actor to your emotional extremes. So why not, when you're preparing for an exercise in class, build in that element of urgency and push it past the boundaries of normalcy to the level of lunacy that somebody would actually want to watch? What's stopping you? Especially in class where it is safe to experiment and play and be ridiculous.

For example, in my first exercise, if I didn't fix those pants, we were going to lose our house and my sister was going to disown me. In my second exercise, if I didn't finish my taxes, my boyfriend was going to dump me and kick me out of our apartment, leaving me penniless, jobless, and homeless. In real life, it is entirely possible that either of those outcomes would not happen. I could probably plead with my boyfriend for another week or so in the apartment until I could find my own place and get on my feet. But in the exercise, I think it is important to believe that it won't go that way. If, for no other reason, because I become more engaging and interesting to watch when I have that kind of pressure on me.

I remember when I took Meisner in college, the teacher boiled it all down to six actions that you could play (though you could combine them as necessary, i.e. celebrate someone in order to seduce them), and what your character wants. Everybody wants something. As actors, we have to figure out what it is our character wants, and then make that the absolute most important thing in the world. In my next exercise, I want to go on tour, and if I don't, I'll curl up in a ditch and die. Should be fun, I think.