I had an audition last night that I was excited to get because it wasn't for a storefront theater, but a theater that actually has a little bit of a reputation. You may not have heard of it, but some people in the theater world have. And I don't mean to slight storefront theaters because some of them are really wonderful - this audition just felt like a little bit of a step up for me from what I have been doing (or trying to do). And yes, it was an audition for understudy positions, but still. It was a foot in the door, so to speak, so that felt good.
It didn't go as well as I hoped, but I didn't tank it, either. I don't think. They may think so. But they laughed during my first piece (which is comedic, so that's good) and they worked with me a little on my second, which was good. I kind of like it when auditors ask me to work on something because it means they see potential, they just want to try something else, and I get the opportunity to show them that I am directable. I'm still willing to bet that I don't get the part, but I'm glad I went.
One other thing that was interesting was that one of the auditors noticed a sort of hoarse quality to my voice and asked if that was normal. Thing is, I don't think it is, but I don't know. I told her I was a little dried out because I was - my sinuses are being kind of bipolar as of late. But it got me thinking about my voice.
There have been a couple other instances in the last year when I am trying to talk loudly enough to be heard in a bar or something like that wherein someone has asked me if I'm catching a cold or losing my voice. Which makes me wonder if the way I'm trying to project my voice is ripping it up. Or maybe I've ripped it up singing "Me and Bobby McGee" too many times. Who knows? But it did occur to me that at least last night, when I was doing my second piece and I was trying for the big, booming, full voice that I was also speaking in a very low register. I like to try to speak and sing in a low register. It might have something to do with my own weird denial of the fact that I am female and women have higher voices than men. See, most of the actors and musicians I look up to are male, and even the women I like sing too low for themselves. I can hit the high notes - I was singing along with "O, Holy Night" in the car the other day (because yes, I am listening to Christmas music this year) and I can hit those lovely high notes on the "Noels." But somehow, I have gotten it in my head that if I'm speaking from my diaphragm, pushing the sound out from my diaphragm through a relaxed and open throat and jaw, that the sound should be lower. Alto or tenor as opposed to soprano.
So maybe I just need to accept that my voice is higher than that. Maybe I am a soprano. And maybe if I am a soprano trying to speak like a tenor, that is why I sound hoarse - my voice doesn't want to go that low so it gets gravelly.
On my way home in the car, I did my monologues again, trying to stay in a medium-to-higher register, to try to convince myself that I can still be powerful if I sound like a girl. I think as long as the intention is there, it should work. I just need to get used to how it sounds.
Is it weird that I notice these things about myself? Do other actors have these kinds of discoveries based on a sort of off-hand comment made at an audition?
16 December 2010
10 December 2010
Stillness
So I'm taking this Shakespeare monologue class and I'm loving it. The teachers are brilliant and wonderful and make it such a comfortable learning environment at the same time they push us to get to the crazy places. I love it. LOVE IT. If you are ever in need of a Shakespeare education, let me know and I'll put you in touch with these two. They are lovely.
The monologue I'm working on is by Hermione from "The Winter's Tale." She has been accused of adultery (of which she is innocent) and was thrown in prison by her husband, the King, where she gave birth to his kid which he doesn't think is his kid, so he had the baby sent out into the woods to "fend for itself" so to speak. And the monologue I'm doing is while she is on trial, he threatens her life if she is found guilty. So she basically responds with, "I'm not afraid to die because you have already taken away everything that I loved. But just know that I am innocent, and if you kill me, my kids will still know I am innocent and won't you feel silly then?" And the emotional place the teachers have been taking me to get into all of the shit that this woman has been put through is gut-wrenching (and I have to say, it's marvelous to get to sob like that once a week, especially if you have someone standing there right next to you with their hand on your back, one hand supporting your head that you have let drop forward, which is what happens in this class. Because yes, she is torn up, but she has to defend herself), but the bit I had not been paying any attention to is that this woman is the Queen. And she's standing in front of probably the whole town who are all judging her while she pleads not for her life, but for her name. As in, this is not the time or place for her to lose her shit. This is an instance when she needs to STAND AND LOOK AT THE DALEKS, so to speak. She needs the beautiful, calm fury of the Doctor punishing the Family of Blood. She needs to stay composed.
As actors, we are told that audition pieces should show a little bit of everything we can do. They are supposed to show us off. Which most of us think means including some kind of physical movement because most of us would like to show that we don't move like stick people. But here I am, working on a monologue that might be best served by standing absolutely still. So the teacher said to me, "Stillness is a choice." And it's perfect. It's beautiful in its simplicity. If I am still and calm as the Queen in my rage as I fight for my honor, I am that much more of a sympathetic character and my King is shown to be that much more of a lunatic for doing this to his wife, who still truly, truly loves him.
"Stillness is a choice."
And when I got home, I felt this kind of catharsis because in my regular life, especially in social situations, I am often still. Not because I'm not engaged, but because I am observing, or because I feel the need to balance out the craziness around me. So I felt justified in my life, almost like when I found that article about "How to Care for Your Introvert," that "made it okay" for me to be an introvert. It is okay if I am still sometimes.
I can't wait to try it again next week.
The monologue I'm working on is by Hermione from "The Winter's Tale." She has been accused of adultery (of which she is innocent) and was thrown in prison by her husband, the King, where she gave birth to his kid which he doesn't think is his kid, so he had the baby sent out into the woods to "fend for itself" so to speak. And the monologue I'm doing is while she is on trial, he threatens her life if she is found guilty. So she basically responds with, "I'm not afraid to die because you have already taken away everything that I loved. But just know that I am innocent, and if you kill me, my kids will still know I am innocent and won't you feel silly then?" And the emotional place the teachers have been taking me to get into all of the shit that this woman has been put through is gut-wrenching (and I have to say, it's marvelous to get to sob like that once a week, especially if you have someone standing there right next to you with their hand on your back, one hand supporting your head that you have let drop forward, which is what happens in this class. Because yes, she is torn up, but she has to defend herself), but the bit I had not been paying any attention to is that this woman is the Queen. And she's standing in front of probably the whole town who are all judging her while she pleads not for her life, but for her name. As in, this is not the time or place for her to lose her shit. This is an instance when she needs to STAND AND LOOK AT THE DALEKS, so to speak. She needs the beautiful, calm fury of the Doctor punishing the Family of Blood. She needs to stay composed.
As actors, we are told that audition pieces should show a little bit of everything we can do. They are supposed to show us off. Which most of us think means including some kind of physical movement because most of us would like to show that we don't move like stick people. But here I am, working on a monologue that might be best served by standing absolutely still. So the teacher said to me, "Stillness is a choice." And it's perfect. It's beautiful in its simplicity. If I am still and calm as the Queen in my rage as I fight for my honor, I am that much more of a sympathetic character and my King is shown to be that much more of a lunatic for doing this to his wife, who still truly, truly loves him.
"Stillness is a choice."
And when I got home, I felt this kind of catharsis because in my regular life, especially in social situations, I am often still. Not because I'm not engaged, but because I am observing, or because I feel the need to balance out the craziness around me. So I felt justified in my life, almost like when I found that article about "How to Care for Your Introvert," that "made it okay" for me to be an introvert. It is okay if I am still sometimes.
I can't wait to try it again next week.
22 November 2010
Nope
And my streak of not getting cast continues.
The thing is, I know it is not for lack of ability and that is a huge thing for me to be able to admit that. It's something else. How I look with the lead guy or scheduling things or whatever. It is the intangibles that are out of my control at this point that seem to be getting in my way.
So of course, I look at myself and wonder what I can change about me that will make me more marketable. Should I cut and dye my hair? Should I work out more? Should I start wearing more makeup to auditions? Honestly, I don't know. The one thing that Hollywood would seem to tell me is that I should lose some weight, but even doing that in the past didn't help. So what can I do?
I can keep trying. That's really all I can do at this point, is to just keep trying and hope that someday, something will stick.
Someday...
The thing is, I know it is not for lack of ability and that is a huge thing for me to be able to admit that. It's something else. How I look with the lead guy or scheduling things or whatever. It is the intangibles that are out of my control at this point that seem to be getting in my way.
So of course, I look at myself and wonder what I can change about me that will make me more marketable. Should I cut and dye my hair? Should I work out more? Should I start wearing more makeup to auditions? Honestly, I don't know. The one thing that Hollywood would seem to tell me is that I should lose some weight, but even doing that in the past didn't help. So what can I do?
I can keep trying. That's really all I can do at this point, is to just keep trying and hope that someday, something will stick.
Someday...
16 November 2010
Ego
The actor ego is a very fragile thing. As I'm sure you know, I spent a week or two there thinking I was pretty damn good. As of last night, I'd say about 90% of that feeling has left me.
I'm not saying I doubt my abilities. Not at all. I'm still good at this and I still work really hard and I'm clever so I can figure things out. But one has to wonder sometimes...
We're working on a new scene in class and I met with my scene partners (there are three of us in the scene this time) and we talked about things and one of the main things I need in the scene is a defined relationship with the man, who plays my sister's husband. It's pretty obvious in the text that my character is in love with him and has been for some time and while we were talking, the other woman in the scene suggested that perhaps he and I had slept together at some point and that her character either knew it or was suspicious. And I said no. Because I had thought about it and I know that for me, I feel more sexual tension when I haven't slept with someone. In my own mind, I equate physical intimacy with a separation, largely because the majority of the men I have been intimate with disappear shortly thereafter. And I'm not even talking about sex - a couple have ditched me after an intense make-out session. So because of my own fucked-up-ed-ness about relationships, I thought it would fuel me more as an actor if my brother-in-law and I as characters had not slept together.
And I got my ass handed to me.
I feel like I need to apologize to the other woman I'm working with because I should have listened to her suggestion from the beginning. And I should have listened to the man in the scene because I think he was initially leaning towards us having slept together, too. So I apologize to the both of you that I let my ego get in the way of making the riskier choice.
Because as it turns out, the teacher had us get up into environment. Well, she had me and the guy get up into environment, anyway. The scene is weird - he talks with her for a while (six or seven pages), then I enter and she leaves and I talk to him for a while (six or seven pages), and then she comes back and the three of us are on stage for three pages before our scene ends. So the first half of the scene was the two of them reading at the table. And then I fucked up my entrance and the teacher coached me through it. And then my sister left the scene and they chatted about the work that was just done at the table and the teacher said to get rid of the table because she wanted the two of us up in environment, which was then thrown out the window when we said we hadn't slept together.
And I'm still kicking myself because it is the riskier, scarier choice to say yes, we had slept together. That should be one of those automatic things, like when you're developing a character and you ask yourself if you love the other person in the scene with you, you answer "Yes" because that connects you to them. "Yes and" instead of "No but." You don't have to be intimately in love with them, seeking marriage and a life together, but if you choose to love that person, you are invested in them on some level and therefore, you are invested in the scene. So the answer to the question, "Have you two slept together?" when it is not answered in the script should always be "Yes." Because that is the scarier choice. It should be an automatic that I should have learned back in Tech 1.
And now I'm "shoulding" myself. Man, I'm having a bad morning.
So the teacher had us do the first dozen lines of our part of the scene a couple of times - once as if we hadn't slept together, once as if we slept together last night, and once as if we slept together five years ago - and the differences were remarkable. The difference in how I felt about him, and about my sister, and about myself, and about my relationship with him, and my relationship with my sister and it became glaringly obvious to me (which it probably already was to everyone else in the room) that yes, these characters have slept together at some point. It makes the dialogue make more sense and brings so much more life into the scene.
And my point with this whole entry is, that while I've been on my little ego trip, I seem to have forgotten some very important fundamentals.
Yes, I found them again. And yes, I am the sort of actor who will try different things and who is open to being proven wrong. And I don't know - maybe it was like a therapy session where I had to get there myself instead of having someone tell it to me. But it's frustrating. And it's frustrating, in part, because this is the teacher who I auditioned for and I haven't found out yet if I was cast or not, but I know some people know if they've been cast, so I also felt last night like this was another callback for me. Like she maybe had some doubts about what I would be like to work with so she really wanted to work with me to see if I could handle her show and I don't feel like I did very well. I missed the most obvious, most basic of choices. I felt like I was called out for not having done my homework. I did homework. Just the wrong assignment. But also, this is class. I should not be putting the pressure of trying to win a role in a completely unrelated play on my classroom discovery. This was essentially a first read - a first real read where all of us had read the script, knew (at least sort of) who our characters were. This was exactly the time to fuck up and try different things. This was "play space" and I turned it into "pressure of performance" space and I fell flat on my face doing so.
Fuck.
So I'm frustrated today. I know I can do this. I just need the opportunity to do it and if I continue to perform at this level (even though I know I am capable of performing at that level), I will not get the opportunity. I need to step up my game. Or something.
"Yes, and..."
I'm not saying I doubt my abilities. Not at all. I'm still good at this and I still work really hard and I'm clever so I can figure things out. But one has to wonder sometimes...
We're working on a new scene in class and I met with my scene partners (there are three of us in the scene this time) and we talked about things and one of the main things I need in the scene is a defined relationship with the man, who plays my sister's husband. It's pretty obvious in the text that my character is in love with him and has been for some time and while we were talking, the other woman in the scene suggested that perhaps he and I had slept together at some point and that her character either knew it or was suspicious. And I said no. Because I had thought about it and I know that for me, I feel more sexual tension when I haven't slept with someone. In my own mind, I equate physical intimacy with a separation, largely because the majority of the men I have been intimate with disappear shortly thereafter. And I'm not even talking about sex - a couple have ditched me after an intense make-out session. So because of my own fucked-up-ed-ness about relationships, I thought it would fuel me more as an actor if my brother-in-law and I as characters had not slept together.
And I got my ass handed to me.
I feel like I need to apologize to the other woman I'm working with because I should have listened to her suggestion from the beginning. And I should have listened to the man in the scene because I think he was initially leaning towards us having slept together, too. So I apologize to the both of you that I let my ego get in the way of making the riskier choice.
Because as it turns out, the teacher had us get up into environment. Well, she had me and the guy get up into environment, anyway. The scene is weird - he talks with her for a while (six or seven pages), then I enter and she leaves and I talk to him for a while (six or seven pages), and then she comes back and the three of us are on stage for three pages before our scene ends. So the first half of the scene was the two of them reading at the table. And then I fucked up my entrance and the teacher coached me through it. And then my sister left the scene and they chatted about the work that was just done at the table and the teacher said to get rid of the table because she wanted the two of us up in environment, which was then thrown out the window when we said we hadn't slept together.
And I'm still kicking myself because it is the riskier, scarier choice to say yes, we had slept together. That should be one of those automatic things, like when you're developing a character and you ask yourself if you love the other person in the scene with you, you answer "Yes" because that connects you to them. "Yes and" instead of "No but." You don't have to be intimately in love with them, seeking marriage and a life together, but if you choose to love that person, you are invested in them on some level and therefore, you are invested in the scene. So the answer to the question, "Have you two slept together?" when it is not answered in the script should always be "Yes." Because that is the scarier choice. It should be an automatic that I should have learned back in Tech 1.
And now I'm "shoulding" myself. Man, I'm having a bad morning.
So the teacher had us do the first dozen lines of our part of the scene a couple of times - once as if we hadn't slept together, once as if we slept together last night, and once as if we slept together five years ago - and the differences were remarkable. The difference in how I felt about him, and about my sister, and about myself, and about my relationship with him, and my relationship with my sister and it became glaringly obvious to me (which it probably already was to everyone else in the room) that yes, these characters have slept together at some point. It makes the dialogue make more sense and brings so much more life into the scene.
And my point with this whole entry is, that while I've been on my little ego trip, I seem to have forgotten some very important fundamentals.
Yes, I found them again. And yes, I am the sort of actor who will try different things and who is open to being proven wrong. And I don't know - maybe it was like a therapy session where I had to get there myself instead of having someone tell it to me. But it's frustrating. And it's frustrating, in part, because this is the teacher who I auditioned for and I haven't found out yet if I was cast or not, but I know some people know if they've been cast, so I also felt last night like this was another callback for me. Like she maybe had some doubts about what I would be like to work with so she really wanted to work with me to see if I could handle her show and I don't feel like I did very well. I missed the most obvious, most basic of choices. I felt like I was called out for not having done my homework. I did homework. Just the wrong assignment. But also, this is class. I should not be putting the pressure of trying to win a role in a completely unrelated play on my classroom discovery. This was essentially a first read - a first real read where all of us had read the script, knew (at least sort of) who our characters were. This was exactly the time to fuck up and try different things. This was "play space" and I turned it into "pressure of performance" space and I fell flat on my face doing so.
Fuck.
So I'm frustrated today. I know I can do this. I just need the opportunity to do it and if I continue to perform at this level (even though I know I am capable of performing at that level), I will not get the opportunity. I need to step up my game. Or something.
"Yes, and..."
09 November 2010
Energy
I was thinking about something else yesterday before class that I want to write down so I don't forget it. I feel, though, that it is important to note that I was thinking about this before class because if any of my classmates are reading this, I don't want you to think that something you did inspired this post. This post is not at all a commentary on last night's class, just sort of a general reminder to myself.
And I am, admittedly, a little nervous to post this here because I know I sound really pretentious, but I'm trying to keep track of my learning process as a performer and this, for me, is a big one. Please know I'm not trying to sound like a know-it-all. These are just my thoughts at the moment.
There seems to be this trend in Hollywood right now where blase is cool. The slacker is cool. The disconnected, apathetic character is cool. I don't mean to name names, but Ellen Page strikes me as one of these sorts of actors. Maybe this is why I don't really want to see "Juno" - in the previews I saw for it, it looked like she just really didn't care. I think this is also my issue with Matt Smith as the Doctor - he spends lots of time running around being weird, but I don't really see things affecting him as strongly as they have affected other Doctors. You can stand there and look at Daleks, or you can STAND AND LOOK AT DALEKS. He chooses the former. I would prefer to watch the latter.
For those of you who watch "America's Next Top Model," I'm talking about what Ms. Tyra Banks refers to as "being fierce."
Now, I'm not saying that every character out there has to be some cracked out whackadoo hopped up on speed in order to be interesting. But I think there is a difference between the actor being apathetic and blase and the character being apathetic and blase. If the actor is blase, I don't want to watch that. If the character is blase, but the actor is fully invested in being blase, that can be interesting.
I know I'm not making a lot of sense, so I'll try a couple of stories.
These two swing dance teachers came to Chicago many years ago and held workshops and many many dancers all around the world consider these two to be just about the best there are. After all, he's one of the people who sort of resurrected lindy in the 1980's or 1990's. And she is...well, she's adorable. There are no two ways about it. Anyway, in their workshops, they were stressing the fact that a dance is a conversation and that the follow has just as much right to speak as the lead and that the lead needs to know how to listen, too. Which is a lovely concept for people who have been dancing for a while and are comfortable with the basics and are looking to push their dancing to the next level. It becomes confusing, though, when you're still counting out the beats in your head and trying to remember if you start with your left foot or your right and suddenly, you are being told that when he's leading you through a six-count turn, it's okay to tell him to stop and wait while you make it an eight-count turn so you can be wiggly for two counts and show off. Suddenly, you're just focused on showing off. You forget that you're supposed to be connected to your partner and inspired by the music; you just want to get in that little two-count wiggle so you can say you know how to dance like the super adorable internationally beloved teacher with the cute accent. And your partner, your poor lead, who is still struggling with the concept of leading from his center instead of jerking your arm out of the socket is focusing so hard on trying to keep the beat that he jerks you through your little two-count wiggle and then remembers he was supposed to just let you do that, so he stops dancing completely because he's lost and frustrated and needs to find the one again, so you wiggle some more to fill the empty beats and he thinks he's just supposed to let you, so he does and you find yourself wiggling for thirty-two counts before you've run out of appropriate wiggle and you both look at each other with an awkward grin that says, "There's a downbeat coming up soon. How about we hit that?" and then you get back into the dance, completely self-conscious and afraid to try that again. At which point, inevitably, the teacher walks by in the workshop and encourages you to wiggle and you're back where you started.
All of this could have been fixed if the dancers knew what they were doing in the first place, and then tried to expand on that knowledge.
I think the same applies to theater.
In one of the first classes I took at the theater where I am now taking classes, we would have to come up with some activity that was difficult to do (but not impossible) and of the utmost importance. One woman decided her activity would be writing a suicide note. Which could be a great exercise, or it could blow up in your face, as the teacher pointed out. If you choose to be a character who really wants to die, then there is nothing to prevent you from just offing yourself at the top of the scene and bam! You're done. Scene over. If, however, you happen to want something from the other person in the scene, no matter how minor that thing may seem, but you really really want it, then you have a scene. If you want to die, but you need to have one last cheese sammich first and your scene partner makes the best cheese sammiches in the world. Or you don't really want to die and the whole thing is really just a cry for attention - the attention of the person in the scene with you. You can still be the super depressed character who sees no other way out of this situation, but there is something more to that character. There is something that makes us, as the audience, want to watch. We want to know if he'll make you the cheese sammich, knowing that as soon as you eat it, you'll die. Or we want to know if she'll confess her undying love for you, thus preventing you from kicking the chair away. That one little glimmer keeps you alive on stage as an actor. As opposed to the actor who just doesn't care about anything. What is the point in that scene?
But I think the problem starts in our very first acting classes. We are told to relax and get comfortable on the stage. This often leads to slouched posture and aimless meandering around the environment. When you think of relaxing, that's what you think of, yes? Sitting comfortably on the couch, maybe kicking off your shoes, getting to a place where you could easily fall asleep. What I think the teachers mean (I could be wrong, this is just a theory) is that we should not be nervous or self-conscious about being on stage, not that we should lull ourselves to sleep. It is possible to be comfortable and still alert. It is possible to be comfortable and still engaged. I think the direction to "relax" is a suggestion that we not judge ourselves, that we just let the moment-to-moment of the scene happen. I don't think it is a direction to check out. But I see that happening all of the time. People on stage just being, for lack of a better word, floopy. In an empassioned scene, they stand with one hip cocked lazily out, doing the head bobble, and when they can't take the emotion of the scene anymore, they turn slowly and take a couple of steps, dragging their feet a few inches to the left of where they had been previously. The passion is indicated by the loudness of their voice, not by their actions or behaviors. Is that how you fight with a loved one? Is that how you seduce a potential lover?
(The teacher called me out for hiding my face when the emotions got too intense in a scene I was working on. I know I do it, too. I know I go for the comfortable instead of the risky, so I'm not trying to point fingers here while I paint myself as perfect. I have found myself bending at the waist to scream at someone instead of walking toward that person, which is one of my biggest actor pet peeves and I yell at myself in my head for it afterward. This is a reminder to me as much as to anyone else that energy is a good thing and it can take many forms. But you gotta have it.)
I think I'm mostly saying that I see a lot of actors who need to get their bodies involved in what they are doing. If you keep your center and keep your core, you can still be relaxed and comfortable on stage, but you will be engaged in what is going on. You will have life and energy and be compelling to watch. Even if your character is apathetic and blase about the world around him, most apathetic people secretly really want something. To be loved, or to be noticed, or to get out of this stupid po-dunk town. And it is the want for those things and the frustration of not getting to have them that leads to apathetic behavior. But as an actor, you need to have that desire and that frustration living in you before you can be properly apathetic on stage. If you just aim for the blase, your audience is going to tune out before you say your first line.
It's like trying to put the wiggle in the dance before you know the steps.
I don't know. I could be talking out of my ass. Or this could be lesson #7 in my self-taught class on how to be more like David Tennant (who is not a perfect performer, but almost every time I watch him, I'm inspired to go out and live and perform and feel and love and let myself be ripped open with heartache, so at the moment, he's who I'm looking to for inspiration as a performer). Hamlet's soliloquy, for example. He's contemplating suicide. But he's hurt and confused and feels betrayed and honestly doesn't know if he is more afraid of continuing in his current state or of the unknown thing that happens (or doesn't happen) when you die. It's a speech about suicide, but it's a speech about so much more than that, and that is why it has stood the test of time. Can you imagine Hamlet going out and delivering this speech as blase dude? There'd be no point for the rest of the play. He is despondent, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. It is because he cares so much that he has become despondent.
Wow, I'm sounding like a pretentious windbag now. Sorry about that. I did have a moment in class last night where I was feeling pretty good about myself (as I have been for a couple of days) and then it all kind of caved in and my humility kicked in and said, "You don't have all of the answers. You've only been studying this for fifteen years - what could you possibly know about acting?" and the little self-doubt demons came creeping back up my spine. I would like to say that I think I know something. And I think that thing that I know is that acting is living truthfully under imaginary circumstances. And in order to do that, one has to live truthfully on stage. It's not about being cool and blase - it is about being truthful. And there is so much more to being cool and blase and apathetic that you as an actor need to know before you can get up there and be those things as a character, none of which are really cool or apathetic or blase.
I guess I wish I saw more people being passionate about what they do instead of flippant about it.
I'll stop being whiny.
And I am, admittedly, a little nervous to post this here because I know I sound really pretentious, but I'm trying to keep track of my learning process as a performer and this, for me, is a big one. Please know I'm not trying to sound like a know-it-all. These are just my thoughts at the moment.
There seems to be this trend in Hollywood right now where blase is cool. The slacker is cool. The disconnected, apathetic character is cool. I don't mean to name names, but Ellen Page strikes me as one of these sorts of actors. Maybe this is why I don't really want to see "Juno" - in the previews I saw for it, it looked like she just really didn't care. I think this is also my issue with Matt Smith as the Doctor - he spends lots of time running around being weird, but I don't really see things affecting him as strongly as they have affected other Doctors. You can stand there and look at Daleks, or you can STAND AND LOOK AT DALEKS. He chooses the former. I would prefer to watch the latter.
For those of you who watch "America's Next Top Model," I'm talking about what Ms. Tyra Banks refers to as "being fierce."
Now, I'm not saying that every character out there has to be some cracked out whackadoo hopped up on speed in order to be interesting. But I think there is a difference between the actor being apathetic and blase and the character being apathetic and blase. If the actor is blase, I don't want to watch that. If the character is blase, but the actor is fully invested in being blase, that can be interesting.
I know I'm not making a lot of sense, so I'll try a couple of stories.
These two swing dance teachers came to Chicago many years ago and held workshops and many many dancers all around the world consider these two to be just about the best there are. After all, he's one of the people who sort of resurrected lindy in the 1980's or 1990's. And she is...well, she's adorable. There are no two ways about it. Anyway, in their workshops, they were stressing the fact that a dance is a conversation and that the follow has just as much right to speak as the lead and that the lead needs to know how to listen, too. Which is a lovely concept for people who have been dancing for a while and are comfortable with the basics and are looking to push their dancing to the next level. It becomes confusing, though, when you're still counting out the beats in your head and trying to remember if you start with your left foot or your right and suddenly, you are being told that when he's leading you through a six-count turn, it's okay to tell him to stop and wait while you make it an eight-count turn so you can be wiggly for two counts and show off. Suddenly, you're just focused on showing off. You forget that you're supposed to be connected to your partner and inspired by the music; you just want to get in that little two-count wiggle so you can say you know how to dance like the super adorable internationally beloved teacher with the cute accent. And your partner, your poor lead, who is still struggling with the concept of leading from his center instead of jerking your arm out of the socket is focusing so hard on trying to keep the beat that he jerks you through your little two-count wiggle and then remembers he was supposed to just let you do that, so he stops dancing completely because he's lost and frustrated and needs to find the one again, so you wiggle some more to fill the empty beats and he thinks he's just supposed to let you, so he does and you find yourself wiggling for thirty-two counts before you've run out of appropriate wiggle and you both look at each other with an awkward grin that says, "There's a downbeat coming up soon. How about we hit that?" and then you get back into the dance, completely self-conscious and afraid to try that again. At which point, inevitably, the teacher walks by in the workshop and encourages you to wiggle and you're back where you started.
All of this could have been fixed if the dancers knew what they were doing in the first place, and then tried to expand on that knowledge.
I think the same applies to theater.
In one of the first classes I took at the theater where I am now taking classes, we would have to come up with some activity that was difficult to do (but not impossible) and of the utmost importance. One woman decided her activity would be writing a suicide note. Which could be a great exercise, or it could blow up in your face, as the teacher pointed out. If you choose to be a character who really wants to die, then there is nothing to prevent you from just offing yourself at the top of the scene and bam! You're done. Scene over. If, however, you happen to want something from the other person in the scene, no matter how minor that thing may seem, but you really really want it, then you have a scene. If you want to die, but you need to have one last cheese sammich first and your scene partner makes the best cheese sammiches in the world. Or you don't really want to die and the whole thing is really just a cry for attention - the attention of the person in the scene with you. You can still be the super depressed character who sees no other way out of this situation, but there is something more to that character. There is something that makes us, as the audience, want to watch. We want to know if he'll make you the cheese sammich, knowing that as soon as you eat it, you'll die. Or we want to know if she'll confess her undying love for you, thus preventing you from kicking the chair away. That one little glimmer keeps you alive on stage as an actor. As opposed to the actor who just doesn't care about anything. What is the point in that scene?
But I think the problem starts in our very first acting classes. We are told to relax and get comfortable on the stage. This often leads to slouched posture and aimless meandering around the environment. When you think of relaxing, that's what you think of, yes? Sitting comfortably on the couch, maybe kicking off your shoes, getting to a place where you could easily fall asleep. What I think the teachers mean (I could be wrong, this is just a theory) is that we should not be nervous or self-conscious about being on stage, not that we should lull ourselves to sleep. It is possible to be comfortable and still alert. It is possible to be comfortable and still engaged. I think the direction to "relax" is a suggestion that we not judge ourselves, that we just let the moment-to-moment of the scene happen. I don't think it is a direction to check out. But I see that happening all of the time. People on stage just being, for lack of a better word, floopy. In an empassioned scene, they stand with one hip cocked lazily out, doing the head bobble, and when they can't take the emotion of the scene anymore, they turn slowly and take a couple of steps, dragging their feet a few inches to the left of where they had been previously. The passion is indicated by the loudness of their voice, not by their actions or behaviors. Is that how you fight with a loved one? Is that how you seduce a potential lover?
(The teacher called me out for hiding my face when the emotions got too intense in a scene I was working on. I know I do it, too. I know I go for the comfortable instead of the risky, so I'm not trying to point fingers here while I paint myself as perfect. I have found myself bending at the waist to scream at someone instead of walking toward that person, which is one of my biggest actor pet peeves and I yell at myself in my head for it afterward. This is a reminder to me as much as to anyone else that energy is a good thing and it can take many forms. But you gotta have it.)
I think I'm mostly saying that I see a lot of actors who need to get their bodies involved in what they are doing. If you keep your center and keep your core, you can still be relaxed and comfortable on stage, but you will be engaged in what is going on. You will have life and energy and be compelling to watch. Even if your character is apathetic and blase about the world around him, most apathetic people secretly really want something. To be loved, or to be noticed, or to get out of this stupid po-dunk town. And it is the want for those things and the frustration of not getting to have them that leads to apathetic behavior. But as an actor, you need to have that desire and that frustration living in you before you can be properly apathetic on stage. If you just aim for the blase, your audience is going to tune out before you say your first line.
It's like trying to put the wiggle in the dance before you know the steps.
I don't know. I could be talking out of my ass. Or this could be lesson #7 in my self-taught class on how to be more like David Tennant (who is not a perfect performer, but almost every time I watch him, I'm inspired to go out and live and perform and feel and love and let myself be ripped open with heartache, so at the moment, he's who I'm looking to for inspiration as a performer). Hamlet's soliloquy, for example. He's contemplating suicide. But he's hurt and confused and feels betrayed and honestly doesn't know if he is more afraid of continuing in his current state or of the unknown thing that happens (or doesn't happen) when you die. It's a speech about suicide, but it's a speech about so much more than that, and that is why it has stood the test of time. Can you imagine Hamlet going out and delivering this speech as blase dude? There'd be no point for the rest of the play. He is despondent, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. It is because he cares so much that he has become despondent.
Wow, I'm sounding like a pretentious windbag now. Sorry about that. I did have a moment in class last night where I was feeling pretty good about myself (as I have been for a couple of days) and then it all kind of caved in and my humility kicked in and said, "You don't have all of the answers. You've only been studying this for fifteen years - what could you possibly know about acting?" and the little self-doubt demons came creeping back up my spine. I would like to say that I think I know something. And I think that thing that I know is that acting is living truthfully under imaginary circumstances. And in order to do that, one has to live truthfully on stage. It's not about being cool and blase - it is about being truthful. And there is so much more to being cool and blase and apathetic that you as an actor need to know before you can get up there and be those things as a character, none of which are really cool or apathetic or blase.
I guess I wish I saw more people being passionate about what they do instead of flippant about it.
I'll stop being whiny.
08 November 2010
Twofer
I had two auditions this weekend and got two callbacks out of the deal.
Hooray!
I don't mean to boast - I know that boasting is distasteful - but I have to admit that in my book, it is a little personal victory to be called back from both auditions. One was monologues, and while I don't think I nailed my pieces, I think there were good elements in them and at the very least, I wasn't scared. The other was readings from the script and I think I did pretty well. Largely because they had me reading for a supporting character, but then the director asked me to stick around and read for the lead, and when I was done, the director said, "Good read." And now I've been called back for the lead.
I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high for either show because as we all know, I've been called back for other shows wherein I am ultimately not cast. But I have to admit, it is a confidence boost to know that I went in to two different auditions this weekend and didn't fuck either one up. It goes back to that whole trusting myself thing I was talking about a couple of weeks ago. I feel like I am in a place where I can say, "I'm good at this. I'm damn good at this," and believe it. Being damn good doesn't always mean you'll get cast, but I can hold my head up high and know that when I am cast in something, I will bring so much frickin' life to that stage they won't know what to do with me. Again, I don't mean to boast; I just have confidence that I don't think I had before.
The weird thing for me about the one callback (the one where I am being called back for the lead) is that I had sort of relegated myself to playing supporting characters. I don't know if it is because I don't think I'm thin enough or because my window of opportunity to play the ingenue has passed, or if it is because in all of my years with the theater where I was a company member, I was always cast in supporting roles, but I had sort of decided that I am a supporting character. Which is totally unfair. I could carry a play. Where I am, right now, in my journey as a performer, I could carry a play. I think I have the strength. I think I have the stamina. I think I have the courage to go all of the various places that a lead character would need to go. I know I have the drive and the determination to put in the work to make it happen. Maybe that is the next step in my development - to embrace myself as a lead actress.
Or not. I could be talking out of my ass.
But have you ever wanted something so badly that it hurt? I loved going into these auditions over the weekend and getting up on the stage for three minutes at a time and acting. Putting everything I could into these characters I'm just starting to get to know. And I have to admit, it's hard to come home after that and be...not acting. That's the frustrating thing about where I am right now with trusting myself and whatnot - it's great and I want to do it all the time, but until I'm in something, I'll just get to do it in fits and spurts once or twice a week. What can I say? I'm an addict. I love the connection. I love the emotion. I love the freedom and the conflict and the study and the work and the release in the end. I want to do that all day every day.
And maybe one of these days, I'll rock a callback as much as I rocked the initial audition, I'll be cast in something, and I'll get to do that in more than fits and spurts.
Hooray!
I don't mean to boast - I know that boasting is distasteful - but I have to admit that in my book, it is a little personal victory to be called back from both auditions. One was monologues, and while I don't think I nailed my pieces, I think there were good elements in them and at the very least, I wasn't scared. The other was readings from the script and I think I did pretty well. Largely because they had me reading for a supporting character, but then the director asked me to stick around and read for the lead, and when I was done, the director said, "Good read." And now I've been called back for the lead.
I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high for either show because as we all know, I've been called back for other shows wherein I am ultimately not cast. But I have to admit, it is a confidence boost to know that I went in to two different auditions this weekend and didn't fuck either one up. It goes back to that whole trusting myself thing I was talking about a couple of weeks ago. I feel like I am in a place where I can say, "I'm good at this. I'm damn good at this," and believe it. Being damn good doesn't always mean you'll get cast, but I can hold my head up high and know that when I am cast in something, I will bring so much frickin' life to that stage they won't know what to do with me. Again, I don't mean to boast; I just have confidence that I don't think I had before.
The weird thing for me about the one callback (the one where I am being called back for the lead) is that I had sort of relegated myself to playing supporting characters. I don't know if it is because I don't think I'm thin enough or because my window of opportunity to play the ingenue has passed, or if it is because in all of my years with the theater where I was a company member, I was always cast in supporting roles, but I had sort of decided that I am a supporting character. Which is totally unfair. I could carry a play. Where I am, right now, in my journey as a performer, I could carry a play. I think I have the strength. I think I have the stamina. I think I have the courage to go all of the various places that a lead character would need to go. I know I have the drive and the determination to put in the work to make it happen. Maybe that is the next step in my development - to embrace myself as a lead actress.
Or not. I could be talking out of my ass.
But have you ever wanted something so badly that it hurt? I loved going into these auditions over the weekend and getting up on the stage for three minutes at a time and acting. Putting everything I could into these characters I'm just starting to get to know. And I have to admit, it's hard to come home after that and be...not acting. That's the frustrating thing about where I am right now with trusting myself and whatnot - it's great and I want to do it all the time, but until I'm in something, I'll just get to do it in fits and spurts once or twice a week. What can I say? I'm an addict. I love the connection. I love the emotion. I love the freedom and the conflict and the study and the work and the release in the end. I want to do that all day every day.
And maybe one of these days, I'll rock a callback as much as I rocked the initial audition, I'll be cast in something, and I'll get to do that in more than fits and spurts.
23 October 2010
Selfish
I came to the realization this week that I really am a selfish person.
I go to lunch from time to time with a friend of mine from acting class and we talk about what we're doing in class and where we're having problems and what we think about the whole business and stuff like that. And I was telling her this week about how I feel like I'm finally getting to a place where I trust myself as a performer and the words that all of my teachers have been telling me for fifteen years are starting to sink in as truths, not just random sounds strung together and she asked me how I got there. In my mind, up to this point, I feel like I'm here because I have nothing else to lose. She asked me what I meant by that.
I don't know if I can tell you what it feels like to have nothing left to lose. I had problems telling her. It came out as a sort of "I've been trying for fifteen years to do this and I've not gotten very far in my career. I keep auditioning and not getting cast even though I do a good job. And recently, my great big plans blew up in my face and I had to face the humiliation of telling everyone that no, really, it wasn't happening." And since most of my friends were not there for the heart-wrenching decision weekend, and since most of my friends are lovely, friendly, helpful-type people, they asked me all kinds of obvious questions about what I could have done and I had to tell them that I tried that and it didn't work. I tried just about everything and it wasn't going to work so I had to swallow my pride and not do it. That was hard. That was really fucking hard and I know that I made the right decision, but it still made me feel like just about the biggest loser in the world. As if I had been stood up at the altar or something. And even in my plans to keep moving forward and to give it another shot, I don't feel like I'm really getting anywhere. I'm still auditioning and not getting cast. One of the classes I wanted to take was canceled, another postponed and then two sessions rescheduled. I feel like I have tried so hard for so long and all I really have to show for it is that my classmates think I'm talented and that's lovely, but I would like to at the very least be in a show right now. Which I'm not. And you put this all together and it feels like when it comes to acting, I have nothing left to lose. I have suffered just about every humiliation a person can at the hands of this silly career.
So why do I keep doing it? Why do I keep trying?
Because I love it. I honestly and truly love it. My teacher was apologizing for making me go through the most emotionally difficult moment for me over and over and over again in class, but I loved it. I love having to go there. I love being able to go there. I love the dirt and the pain and the screaming and the connection and the love that I get to experience up on stage. I know I have written before that I want to live fully - I get to live fully on stage, even if it is in class - and I love it. I will take every moment of it that I can get.
So here I am, at a point in my development where I have nothing left to lose, where I feel as if I have hit the bottom and continued to sink, so I get up there on stage and give it everything that I have because I don't have any other choice. I am selfish and I love doing this. So I am going to do it. Even if nobody will put me in a show, I will keep taking classes so I can keep doing this. I enjoy it. I want to do something I enjoy. That is selfish behavior. But you know what? I'm okay with that.
I go to lunch from time to time with a friend of mine from acting class and we talk about what we're doing in class and where we're having problems and what we think about the whole business and stuff like that. And I was telling her this week about how I feel like I'm finally getting to a place where I trust myself as a performer and the words that all of my teachers have been telling me for fifteen years are starting to sink in as truths, not just random sounds strung together and she asked me how I got there. In my mind, up to this point, I feel like I'm here because I have nothing else to lose. She asked me what I meant by that.
I don't know if I can tell you what it feels like to have nothing left to lose. I had problems telling her. It came out as a sort of "I've been trying for fifteen years to do this and I've not gotten very far in my career. I keep auditioning and not getting cast even though I do a good job. And recently, my great big plans blew up in my face and I had to face the humiliation of telling everyone that no, really, it wasn't happening." And since most of my friends were not there for the heart-wrenching decision weekend, and since most of my friends are lovely, friendly, helpful-type people, they asked me all kinds of obvious questions about what I could have done and I had to tell them that I tried that and it didn't work. I tried just about everything and it wasn't going to work so I had to swallow my pride and not do it. That was hard. That was really fucking hard and I know that I made the right decision, but it still made me feel like just about the biggest loser in the world. As if I had been stood up at the altar or something. And even in my plans to keep moving forward and to give it another shot, I don't feel like I'm really getting anywhere. I'm still auditioning and not getting cast. One of the classes I wanted to take was canceled, another postponed and then two sessions rescheduled. I feel like I have tried so hard for so long and all I really have to show for it is that my classmates think I'm talented and that's lovely, but I would like to at the very least be in a show right now. Which I'm not. And you put this all together and it feels like when it comes to acting, I have nothing left to lose. I have suffered just about every humiliation a person can at the hands of this silly career.
So why do I keep doing it? Why do I keep trying?
Because I love it. I honestly and truly love it. My teacher was apologizing for making me go through the most emotionally difficult moment for me over and over and over again in class, but I loved it. I love having to go there. I love being able to go there. I love the dirt and the pain and the screaming and the connection and the love that I get to experience up on stage. I know I have written before that I want to live fully - I get to live fully on stage, even if it is in class - and I love it. I will take every moment of it that I can get.
So here I am, at a point in my development where I have nothing left to lose, where I feel as if I have hit the bottom and continued to sink, so I get up there on stage and give it everything that I have because I don't have any other choice. I am selfish and I love doing this. So I am going to do it. Even if nobody will put me in a show, I will keep taking classes so I can keep doing this. I enjoy it. I want to do something I enjoy. That is selfish behavior. But you know what? I'm okay with that.
19 October 2010
Good Night
I had a really good night in class last night. Really good.
My partner and I were up on our feet, working in our environment for the first time and we struggled for lines from time to time, but that happens. But there was honest connection and honest emotion and so much pain and rage and vulnerability. It was great. And, it wasn't perfect. The teacher called me out on my "thing" - I have a "thing!" I have wanted to know for some time if I had a "thing" and she saw it last night and called me out on it and it's so true. I was hiding my face in my hands a lot. And it will make me that much more open and raw if I can still have those feelings without hiding my face. I'm looking forward to trying that next week.
There were a couple of odd bits for me, though. One was that so much of the scene is SO emotional for me, but when the teacher would stop us to make a comment, I came right smack out of it. Maybe that is because she tended to stop us when the scene was going south anyway, but it felt weird. But I guess it is good. I know I have ragged on actors before for not being able to leave it on stage once they come off, but it felt odd to go from 100 to 3 in a half a second, you know? And I think I did a decent job of getting back up to about 85 or 90 to start the scene again when it was time to go. It would be nice to learn to jump back in at 100 - that will come with practice. I think I wonder if it made it appear false to my classmates, though, that I came out of it so quickly. I'm up there screaming and crying in pain, and then I'm looking the teacher in the eye taking notes and agreeing that I need to not hide my face and being very calm and technical. Does the fact that I did that make the intensity of the scene just five seconds beforehand seem false?
It didn't feel false.
Which brings me to my second oddity.
When I was learning lindy from my favorite lindy instructor who lives in Europe (I believe he's still there), I remember that he broke it down to such a fundamental level that to the observer, it might look like not a lot is going on. But for the dancers, it is this intense, connected, completely in-tune conversation of movement. He told me once that he couldn't feel my fingertips. So I fixed that and he could control either my head, my hips, or my feet just through my fingertips. For me, acting is very much the same. When you get to that level of connection, where you are taking in what your partner gives you and reacting honestly and truthfully to it, you can make your partner weep with the slightest tilt of your head.
But I think I got into a sort of dangerous place in both dance and acting because of this. The place where I was looking for connection so tiny that the end result looked tiny to anyone watching. Yes, I was feeling everything and yes, I was reacting to everything, but it was all small and perhaps internal. I would get mad, but not furious. I would be happy, but not sickeningly in love. That kind of thing. And that's not always called for in the theater. First of all, nobody writes a scene about someone who gets mad. They write about hideous burning rage. Nobody writes about couple who are content. They write about couples who are hopelessly in love, fueled by passion, desire, and lust. And as theatergoers, that's what we want to see on stage. Not to mention the fact that if you're playing a big house, nobody can see it in the back row if you wink. So I think I was in a place with my acting where I knew large reactions were called for, but they felt false. They felt exaggerated and sometimes forced. But last night, I think I realized that it is not about making the movements bigger. It is about raising the stakes. If you find out your husband is cheating on you, you will be hurt and angry. If you find out your husband, who you gave up the life you always wanted for yourself so you could be with him, who you have become completely emotionally dependent on, who is the father of your only child who is your great joy in life even though he's a little off, who you care for and depend on, who you honestly think you would shrivel up and die without, is cheating on you with a goat, your guts will spill out of your mouth, you'll double over and writhe on the floor in pain, screaming until you can't scream anymore. And it will be honest. And it will be truthful. Because it is that important to you.
It's funny. I have technically been studying theater for about fifteen years and all of the things the acting books have told me are just starting to sink in. Trust yourself. Raise the stakes. The only way to fail is to not try. They used to be just words to me, but in the past couple of weeks, they have started to creep in under my skin and become part of me as a performer. I love it. That moment when everything starts to click. And I can't wait to see where I go from here.
My partner and I were up on our feet, working in our environment for the first time and we struggled for lines from time to time, but that happens. But there was honest connection and honest emotion and so much pain and rage and vulnerability. It was great. And, it wasn't perfect. The teacher called me out on my "thing" - I have a "thing!" I have wanted to know for some time if I had a "thing" and she saw it last night and called me out on it and it's so true. I was hiding my face in my hands a lot. And it will make me that much more open and raw if I can still have those feelings without hiding my face. I'm looking forward to trying that next week.
There were a couple of odd bits for me, though. One was that so much of the scene is SO emotional for me, but when the teacher would stop us to make a comment, I came right smack out of it. Maybe that is because she tended to stop us when the scene was going south anyway, but it felt weird. But I guess it is good. I know I have ragged on actors before for not being able to leave it on stage once they come off, but it felt odd to go from 100 to 3 in a half a second, you know? And I think I did a decent job of getting back up to about 85 or 90 to start the scene again when it was time to go. It would be nice to learn to jump back in at 100 - that will come with practice. I think I wonder if it made it appear false to my classmates, though, that I came out of it so quickly. I'm up there screaming and crying in pain, and then I'm looking the teacher in the eye taking notes and agreeing that I need to not hide my face and being very calm and technical. Does the fact that I did that make the intensity of the scene just five seconds beforehand seem false?
It didn't feel false.
Which brings me to my second oddity.
When I was learning lindy from my favorite lindy instructor who lives in Europe (I believe he's still there), I remember that he broke it down to such a fundamental level that to the observer, it might look like not a lot is going on. But for the dancers, it is this intense, connected, completely in-tune conversation of movement. He told me once that he couldn't feel my fingertips. So I fixed that and he could control either my head, my hips, or my feet just through my fingertips. For me, acting is very much the same. When you get to that level of connection, where you are taking in what your partner gives you and reacting honestly and truthfully to it, you can make your partner weep with the slightest tilt of your head.
But I think I got into a sort of dangerous place in both dance and acting because of this. The place where I was looking for connection so tiny that the end result looked tiny to anyone watching. Yes, I was feeling everything and yes, I was reacting to everything, but it was all small and perhaps internal. I would get mad, but not furious. I would be happy, but not sickeningly in love. That kind of thing. And that's not always called for in the theater. First of all, nobody writes a scene about someone who gets mad. They write about hideous burning rage. Nobody writes about couple who are content. They write about couples who are hopelessly in love, fueled by passion, desire, and lust. And as theatergoers, that's what we want to see on stage. Not to mention the fact that if you're playing a big house, nobody can see it in the back row if you wink. So I think I was in a place with my acting where I knew large reactions were called for, but they felt false. They felt exaggerated and sometimes forced. But last night, I think I realized that it is not about making the movements bigger. It is about raising the stakes. If you find out your husband is cheating on you, you will be hurt and angry. If you find out your husband, who you gave up the life you always wanted for yourself so you could be with him, who you have become completely emotionally dependent on, who is the father of your only child who is your great joy in life even though he's a little off, who you care for and depend on, who you honestly think you would shrivel up and die without, is cheating on you with a goat, your guts will spill out of your mouth, you'll double over and writhe on the floor in pain, screaming until you can't scream anymore. And it will be honest. And it will be truthful. Because it is that important to you.
It's funny. I have technically been studying theater for about fifteen years and all of the things the acting books have told me are just starting to sink in. Trust yourself. Raise the stakes. The only way to fail is to not try. They used to be just words to me, but in the past couple of weeks, they have started to creep in under my skin and become part of me as a performer. I love it. That moment when everything starts to click. And I can't wait to see where I go from here.
12 October 2010
Trust
I had a good class last night. In all honesty, though, I wish I had the opportunity to work more. This is the one problem with scene study classes - if you have six groups who all need to do their scenes in a three hour class, each group should get a half an hour, but if one group goes over, everyone else gets less time. Such is life. And I know it all evens out because different groups go first every week, but still. I wish I had gotten to work more last night.
But the teacher said I did some very good work. I still have some homework to do in terms of building my character's world, and my partner has some work of his own to do which I think will give me more to work off of which will allow me to give him more to work off of and so on and so on and so on. But for a table read, it wasn't bad. The scream that happened at the end of my scene wasn't the noise I had wanted to make just then, but I guess you can't go into this sort of thing hoping to make a certain noise at a certain time. It has to just happen organically. Truthfully. And truthfully, that was the sound that came out of me in response to what was going on.
But what struck me between my audition over the weekend for the show in which I did not get cast and my class last night was, I feel like I'm moving towards the place where I trust myself as a performer. I know I can get up there and give it my all. I'm losing the fear of failure because I think I'm learning that the only way to really fail at this is to not try. I may try the wrong thing and the director might ask me to do something else, but as long as I make strong choices and commit to them fully, I will look like an actor who is fearless and full of life and engaging to watch.
Another thing that came up again last night was intimidation. I was "intimidating as hell," I think someone said. I think this scene calls for it, but I think I also got some of the vulnerability of the character in there, too. Which may also be intimidating because supposedly my husband is still in love with me and for me to be able to be vulnerable with him when he just shattered my entire world has to kill him, too. Or something. But I don't want to be generally intimidating. That's not what I'm after. I want to be the sort of performer who inspires other people, not scares them. I hope, I really truly hope, that my friends and peers feel comfortable talking to me about things. Even performance things. I have one friend who I get together with and we talk theater and I love it. I love talking to her about the problems we are each having with our creative journeys because we usually get to some place where we get an idea for something to try next time. It's great. And if she was intimidated by me, I don't think that would work. I hope she's not. Just like if I ever start teaching this stuff, I want to be an approachable, encouraging teacher. I would want people to see my work and think, "Wow, I want to be able to do that. Maybe she'll let me pick her brain," instead of, "She's so much better than me." I don't know how much control I have over that. I just hope I come off as open and approachable, not as untouchable.
It's funny that it has taken me fifteen years of studying this stuff to get to this point. To start to get to this point. But I'm glad I'm moving in this direction. If I'm going to be a David Tennant kind of actor, I have to be fearless and give it my all. And it's nice to know I can.
But the teacher said I did some very good work. I still have some homework to do in terms of building my character's world, and my partner has some work of his own to do which I think will give me more to work off of which will allow me to give him more to work off of and so on and so on and so on. But for a table read, it wasn't bad. The scream that happened at the end of my scene wasn't the noise I had wanted to make just then, but I guess you can't go into this sort of thing hoping to make a certain noise at a certain time. It has to just happen organically. Truthfully. And truthfully, that was the sound that came out of me in response to what was going on.
But what struck me between my audition over the weekend for the show in which I did not get cast and my class last night was, I feel like I'm moving towards the place where I trust myself as a performer. I know I can get up there and give it my all. I'm losing the fear of failure because I think I'm learning that the only way to really fail at this is to not try. I may try the wrong thing and the director might ask me to do something else, but as long as I make strong choices and commit to them fully, I will look like an actor who is fearless and full of life and engaging to watch.
Another thing that came up again last night was intimidation. I was "intimidating as hell," I think someone said. I think this scene calls for it, but I think I also got some of the vulnerability of the character in there, too. Which may also be intimidating because supposedly my husband is still in love with me and for me to be able to be vulnerable with him when he just shattered my entire world has to kill him, too. Or something. But I don't want to be generally intimidating. That's not what I'm after. I want to be the sort of performer who inspires other people, not scares them. I hope, I really truly hope, that my friends and peers feel comfortable talking to me about things. Even performance things. I have one friend who I get together with and we talk theater and I love it. I love talking to her about the problems we are each having with our creative journeys because we usually get to some place where we get an idea for something to try next time. It's great. And if she was intimidated by me, I don't think that would work. I hope she's not. Just like if I ever start teaching this stuff, I want to be an approachable, encouraging teacher. I would want people to see my work and think, "Wow, I want to be able to do that. Maybe she'll let me pick her brain," instead of, "She's so much better than me." I don't know how much control I have over that. I just hope I come off as open and approachable, not as untouchable.
It's funny that it has taken me fifteen years of studying this stuff to get to this point. To start to get to this point. But I'm glad I'm moving in this direction. If I'm going to be a David Tennant kind of actor, I have to be fearless and give it my all. And it's nice to know I can.
11 October 2010
Rollin' rollin' rollin'
So seeing as my grand plan kind of went kablooie this year, and I have to wait until next year to give it another shot, I am trying to find ways to fill my time. I have always loved stage combat kinds of things, so I thought I should try to find a place in Chicago where I could study (as opposed to those three-week intensive courses taught in July in Seattle. Not that those don't sound like fun, but they would require waiting until July and somehow being able to finagle three weeks off of work). And I found one.
There is a group that trains about five blocks from my apartment, twice a week. For twenty bucks a pop, I can go train with them. So I did. On Saturday. I was nervous as hell walking in there, but they were very nice and very supportive. And they had me jump right in doing forward rolls and backward rolls and jumping over someone who was rolling at me and rolling under someone who was jumping over me and rolling over mats and practicing a simple fight sequence and learning how to do (essentially) a belly flop and a backward fall and some punches and kicks and spins. And some of it, I sucked at. Horribly. I need to work on my flexibility so I can get a decent crescent kick. But some of it, I was pretty decent at. I've never considered myself a gymnast, but I was able to do fairly well on the jumping and rolling stuff. For a first-timer, anyway. And the rest of the group was very encouraging, which helped a lot. Though they do say that if you are uncomfortable trying something, don't do it.
There was something really fun, though, about jumping in and trying everything. I'm not the sort who flips. Ever. I look at people who can do flips and am astounded. But there I was, taking a running start to dive and roll over someone who was coming at me, and I did it. Not perfectly, but I did it. I flew through the air, tucked my head, and rolled through on my back to a (sloppy) landing. How often do adults get to do that kind of thing?
I'd like to get good at this. There is a woman in the group who is absolutely fearless and I hope to someday be like her. I know it will take practice, if for no other reason because I will need to get familiar with my own body and it's limitations and I need to get comfortable working on a bouncy floor that isn't going to hurt when I fall on it. Right now, I still have the "Oh my god the floor is rushing at me really fast and I'm going to hurt myself!" reflex. Which is not what happens here. You learn how to throw yourself at the ground in such a way that you won't get hurt, and you practice on a soft floor so even if you screw up, you're okay until you're comfortable enough to know you're not going to screw up and then you can go do the same thing on concrete.
I think this could be good for me. Something physically active that challenges me to do things I didn't think I could do. That's bound to build up some confidence, right?
Though I will say, I took one landing a little hard on my left ankle. I don't think there was any serious damage, but it's a little tender. And I don't know if it was the stunt training or the strength training I did earlier that morning, but just about every muscle in my body is screaming at me. My favorite soreness is in my butt - if my butt hurts like that, it means it got a good workout, right?
There is a group that trains about five blocks from my apartment, twice a week. For twenty bucks a pop, I can go train with them. So I did. On Saturday. I was nervous as hell walking in there, but they were very nice and very supportive. And they had me jump right in doing forward rolls and backward rolls and jumping over someone who was rolling at me and rolling under someone who was jumping over me and rolling over mats and practicing a simple fight sequence and learning how to do (essentially) a belly flop and a backward fall and some punches and kicks and spins. And some of it, I sucked at. Horribly. I need to work on my flexibility so I can get a decent crescent kick. But some of it, I was pretty decent at. I've never considered myself a gymnast, but I was able to do fairly well on the jumping and rolling stuff. For a first-timer, anyway. And the rest of the group was very encouraging, which helped a lot. Though they do say that if you are uncomfortable trying something, don't do it.
There was something really fun, though, about jumping in and trying everything. I'm not the sort who flips. Ever. I look at people who can do flips and am astounded. But there I was, taking a running start to dive and roll over someone who was coming at me, and I did it. Not perfectly, but I did it. I flew through the air, tucked my head, and rolled through on my back to a (sloppy) landing. How often do adults get to do that kind of thing?
I'd like to get good at this. There is a woman in the group who is absolutely fearless and I hope to someday be like her. I know it will take practice, if for no other reason because I will need to get familiar with my own body and it's limitations and I need to get comfortable working on a bouncy floor that isn't going to hurt when I fall on it. Right now, I still have the "Oh my god the floor is rushing at me really fast and I'm going to hurt myself!" reflex. Which is not what happens here. You learn how to throw yourself at the ground in such a way that you won't get hurt, and you practice on a soft floor so even if you screw up, you're okay until you're comfortable enough to know you're not going to screw up and then you can go do the same thing on concrete.
I think this could be good for me. Something physically active that challenges me to do things I didn't think I could do. That's bound to build up some confidence, right?
Though I will say, I took one landing a little hard on my left ankle. I don't think there was any serious damage, but it's a little tender. And I don't know if it was the stunt training or the strength training I did earlier that morning, but just about every muscle in my body is screaming at me. My favorite soreness is in my butt - if my butt hurts like that, it means it got a good workout, right?
Good News, Bad News
I had an audition on Saturday for an original piece and I nailed it. I went in there and gave it everything I could. I read for two different characters and I think I managed to make them each their own person, but I also think I brought some of myself to each character. And I really enjoyed the audition, too. There are some auditions that have a relaxed, encouraging atmosphere and this was one of them.
So I was not cast.
Which is disappointing, yes. I think I could have brought something interesting to either of the roles I read for and I felt really good about my performance, so it would have been nice to get to explore the character more in rehearsal and then bring her to life in performance.
But the director did take a minute to send me a personal email saying how much he enjoyed my audition, how he was fascinated by the layers I brought to the characters, and how he was really disappointed that he couldn't use me in this production. I thought that was extraordinarily nice of him. Directors don't usually take the time to let the people who weren't cast know that they weren't cast at all, much less to tell them that they gave a really good audition and offer up words of encouragement. So thank you to this director for taking the time to send me that note. That meant a lot to me.
Though I will admit that it was a little hard to take. I don't know exactly why I was not cast, but it looks like it was one of those things that was completely out of my control. I don't look right with the lead guy or some role was already promised to someone else or something like that. Something about which I can do absolutely nothing. Which is hard for me. I like to be able to learn from my experiences and I'm not sure what I can learn from this. Other than I am good at this. I can go in there and give a great audition if I just trust myself. And that if I keep trying, something will eventually have to stick.
So I was not cast.
Which is disappointing, yes. I think I could have brought something interesting to either of the roles I read for and I felt really good about my performance, so it would have been nice to get to explore the character more in rehearsal and then bring her to life in performance.
But the director did take a minute to send me a personal email saying how much he enjoyed my audition, how he was fascinated by the layers I brought to the characters, and how he was really disappointed that he couldn't use me in this production. I thought that was extraordinarily nice of him. Directors don't usually take the time to let the people who weren't cast know that they weren't cast at all, much less to tell them that they gave a really good audition and offer up words of encouragement. So thank you to this director for taking the time to send me that note. That meant a lot to me.
Though I will admit that it was a little hard to take. I don't know exactly why I was not cast, but it looks like it was one of those things that was completely out of my control. I don't look right with the lead guy or some role was already promised to someone else or something like that. Something about which I can do absolutely nothing. Which is hard for me. I like to be able to learn from my experiences and I'm not sure what I can learn from this. Other than I am good at this. I can go in there and give a great audition if I just trust myself. And that if I keep trying, something will eventually have to stick.
05 October 2010
Thoughts
So I've been assigned a scene from a play about a couple who are having some marital problems, largely because she finds out in the course of the play that he is in love and sleeping with a goat. The play is The Goat, or Who is Silvia? by Edward Albee, appropriately enough. Because if there were multiple plays about men sleeping with goats, we might have to stop and take a look at things. And I love this play. It is raw and gritty and real and torturous and so far out there bizarre. I think it is really going to push me as a performer to play this woman who has been so horrifically betrayed, but who still loves her husband so deeply. And it's going to be hard to not just be snide through the whole thing, but that's another issue.
My question is this: As we were discussing the play as a class, it was decided that the man playing the husband (any man cast as this husband) has to love that goat. He has to cast that goat and imagine making love to her and imagine liking it. He has to imagine staring into the goat's eyes and being completely swept away. Which, as you imagine, might be hard for some actors to do. My question is this: in the context of the play, the husband doesn't think what he is doing is wrong. He truly believes that he is in love with his wife and with the goat and that his love for the goat came from somewhere innocent and pure and beautiful, not some sordid thing that happened in his past that turned him into a deviant. He talks about going to therapy and realizing that he has nothing in common with the other people there because his love for the goat is true, whereas they sleep with geese and dogs and pigs out of some psychological trauma. So I have to ask any actor who is cast as this man, in order to prepare for this role, do you have to be in love with a goat, or do you just need to be in love with someone (something) that isn't your wife?
The character knows he is hurting his wife and he knows that infidelity is wrong. He doesn't think loving this goat is wrong, and he defends his love of this goat to the end of the play. So does the actor playing him need to imagine making love to a goat? Or does he need to imagine making love to someone other than his spouse who makes him ridiculously happy? Does the husband's guilt come from the infidelity or from the fact that it is a goat or both?
Honestly, I don't know. I think the answer would be different for every actor who plays the husband. But I would think that if, for the actor, the thought of making love to a goat is repulsive, that kind of goes against how the character feels about his relationship with the goat and may give him a self-hatred that I'm not sure he has. Whereas if he does his preparation around his wife, and then does some preparation around meeting the fantasy partner of his dreams (who is not his wife), I think that might get closer. I don't know. I could be full of crap myself. It's just a thought.
My question is this: As we were discussing the play as a class, it was decided that the man playing the husband (any man cast as this husband) has to love that goat. He has to cast that goat and imagine making love to her and imagine liking it. He has to imagine staring into the goat's eyes and being completely swept away. Which, as you imagine, might be hard for some actors to do. My question is this: in the context of the play, the husband doesn't think what he is doing is wrong. He truly believes that he is in love with his wife and with the goat and that his love for the goat came from somewhere innocent and pure and beautiful, not some sordid thing that happened in his past that turned him into a deviant. He talks about going to therapy and realizing that he has nothing in common with the other people there because his love for the goat is true, whereas they sleep with geese and dogs and pigs out of some psychological trauma. So I have to ask any actor who is cast as this man, in order to prepare for this role, do you have to be in love with a goat, or do you just need to be in love with someone (something) that isn't your wife?
The character knows he is hurting his wife and he knows that infidelity is wrong. He doesn't think loving this goat is wrong, and he defends his love of this goat to the end of the play. So does the actor playing him need to imagine making love to a goat? Or does he need to imagine making love to someone other than his spouse who makes him ridiculously happy? Does the husband's guilt come from the infidelity or from the fact that it is a goat or both?
Honestly, I don't know. I think the answer would be different for every actor who plays the husband. But I would think that if, for the actor, the thought of making love to a goat is repulsive, that kind of goes against how the character feels about his relationship with the goat and may give him a self-hatred that I'm not sure he has. Whereas if he does his preparation around his wife, and then does some preparation around meeting the fantasy partner of his dreams (who is not his wife), I think that might get closer. I don't know. I could be full of crap myself. It's just a thought.
27 September 2010
Out of Practice
For someone who has been described as fearless on several occasions, I am finding myself to be afraid of just about everything lately.
Tonight was my first class of the new session, but the second class of the session - I was at a convention last week and had to miss the first class. And the teacher had me get up and work first, which, yay! I like to work first in a lot of respects because especially when everyone is working on the same scene, you don't feel pressure to do what the person before you did, or to avoid doing what the person before you did. On the other hand, you get to watch everyone after you learn from your mistakes and you spend two and a half hours wishing you had just one more shot to try it again. On the up side, this teacher is very good at identifying what each of us needs to do with the scene - there are six women in the class and each of us is going to interpret the character in our own way because we are six very different women. And this teacher allows for that - she's not trying to pump out six cookie cutter performances. And by the end of my time working today, she had seen great improvement and called me a strong actor, which is a good thing.
But I was scared up there. I was holding back. I didn't feel prepared. I didn't feel comfortable. And I would like to think that at least part of it is because it has been a while since I was in class so I'm a little out of practice, but I think there is more to it than that.
See, I had alluded to this grand plan that I had, and it almost came to fruition, but then it didn't. It didn't necessarily go away, but I kind of had to start over and all of the plans I had made for now are on hold and in limbo for at least a year. Which has me feeling really weird about my life right now. Like I'm not supposed to be here. Like I'm living on borrowed time or something. And on the one hand, it is great because it is sort of forcing me to stay open to whatever might be coming up - I'm kind of just going with the flow and seeing where life decides to take me, instead of having a solid plan. But on the other hand, I have this feeling that there is something else I'm supposed to be doing and that has me sort of watching my back all of the time.
So it has manifested as trepidation on stage. Which turns into the fear that this is it - this is my life. Day job that drives me crazy, classes a couple of nights a week, watching all of my friends get married and have kids all around me while my life goes...I don't even know where. I'm in a holding pattern for another year until I can try again to make my plan happen. And I'm doing my best to fill that time with things that make me happy, but what if the same thing happens next year? And the year after that? And the year after that? Then what? Do I spend my whole life taking classes while the rest of the world happens around me?
It must be a good class to get me thinking like this. If it doesn't leave you feeling like shit, you weren't working hard enough, right?
I'm fine. Really, I'm fine. And I will continue to be fine. I just need to remember that it's okay to be scared everywhere else, but on stage, I have to be David Tennant. There is no fear in class. Class is safe space. The stage is safe space. And if I have to be afraid up there, I have to turn that fear into something beautiful and useful that will affect my partner who can then affect me. That's art right there, baby. And if the rest of the world is going to go on around me, the least I can do is spruce it up a little, right?
Tonight was my first class of the new session, but the second class of the session - I was at a convention last week and had to miss the first class. And the teacher had me get up and work first, which, yay! I like to work first in a lot of respects because especially when everyone is working on the same scene, you don't feel pressure to do what the person before you did, or to avoid doing what the person before you did. On the other hand, you get to watch everyone after you learn from your mistakes and you spend two and a half hours wishing you had just one more shot to try it again. On the up side, this teacher is very good at identifying what each of us needs to do with the scene - there are six women in the class and each of us is going to interpret the character in our own way because we are six very different women. And this teacher allows for that - she's not trying to pump out six cookie cutter performances. And by the end of my time working today, she had seen great improvement and called me a strong actor, which is a good thing.
But I was scared up there. I was holding back. I didn't feel prepared. I didn't feel comfortable. And I would like to think that at least part of it is because it has been a while since I was in class so I'm a little out of practice, but I think there is more to it than that.
See, I had alluded to this grand plan that I had, and it almost came to fruition, but then it didn't. It didn't necessarily go away, but I kind of had to start over and all of the plans I had made for now are on hold and in limbo for at least a year. Which has me feeling really weird about my life right now. Like I'm not supposed to be here. Like I'm living on borrowed time or something. And on the one hand, it is great because it is sort of forcing me to stay open to whatever might be coming up - I'm kind of just going with the flow and seeing where life decides to take me, instead of having a solid plan. But on the other hand, I have this feeling that there is something else I'm supposed to be doing and that has me sort of watching my back all of the time.
So it has manifested as trepidation on stage. Which turns into the fear that this is it - this is my life. Day job that drives me crazy, classes a couple of nights a week, watching all of my friends get married and have kids all around me while my life goes...I don't even know where. I'm in a holding pattern for another year until I can try again to make my plan happen. And I'm doing my best to fill that time with things that make me happy, but what if the same thing happens next year? And the year after that? And the year after that? Then what? Do I spend my whole life taking classes while the rest of the world happens around me?
It must be a good class to get me thinking like this. If it doesn't leave you feeling like shit, you weren't working hard enough, right?
I'm fine. Really, I'm fine. And I will continue to be fine. I just need to remember that it's okay to be scared everywhere else, but on stage, I have to be David Tennant. There is no fear in class. Class is safe space. The stage is safe space. And if I have to be afraid up there, I have to turn that fear into something beautiful and useful that will affect my partner who can then affect me. That's art right there, baby. And if the rest of the world is going to go on around me, the least I can do is spruce it up a little, right?
21 June 2010
...and scene
Tonight is my last class of this session and I'll kind of be glad when it is over. I have enjoyed this class and enjoyed the scenes we have all worked on, though I think it might have been nice if it was a nine week class and we worked on three scenes each instead of an eight week class wherein we worked on two scenes each. I don't know that there was enough script analysis time to merit working on one scene for four weeks - we'd read it one week and talk a bit, and then come in and perform it three times. I'm not sure what to do differently tonight, but I guess that is to be expected because it is moment-to-moment work so I can't know what to do or what is going to happen until I get there. All I can do is prepare my background information and know my lines and know what I want from my partner when I enter the room. Beyond that, it's anyone's guess.
My other class ended on Saturday and I will miss that one a lot. It was sort of the last in the series, and probably my last with that group of people, many of whom I'd been in class with for almost a year now. I have grown to love my classmates deeply and trust them immensely and I will be sad to not be in class with them anymore. It's funny - it occurred to me on Saturday that the scene I was working on was kind of about losing a friend and I've grown to really love the woman I was working with this session and here was our last performance so it was doing a scene about losing a friend knowing that I'm losing my scene partner. I'm not losing her losing her - I know we'll stay in touch - it just seemed appropriate. We did well, too. Granted, it took us three times to get into it, but once we were there, we were really there and it felt great. After the scene, the teacher kind of took me aside and told me not to lose this because there was some really good work done. I think the most important things I need to remember from this class are that I need to speak my point of view, I need to speak my point of view clearly, and to always choose connection. I want to play around a bit with my warm-up technique, though, so it won't take me three tries to really get into it. I do my homework, I cast my characters, I build my private life and I'm up there on stage full of history, but I want to be able to hit the ground running and I need to figure out a way to get myself there. Be it looking at a picture or reading over a list of my important points or whatever. I need to figure out a way to get there at the drop of a hat instead of gradually warming into it.
But yeah. I maybe be on a bit of radio silence as I take the rest of the summer off from classes. But I do want to thank all of my teachers and classmates for working with me, pushing me, challenging me, being there when I had my little breakdowns and my big breakdowns, encouraging me, loving me, and accepting me as we all went on this journey together toward becoming fuller, more complete performers. I love you and hope all we get to work together again someday. Hopefully on a play involving monkeys.
My other class ended on Saturday and I will miss that one a lot. It was sort of the last in the series, and probably my last with that group of people, many of whom I'd been in class with for almost a year now. I have grown to love my classmates deeply and trust them immensely and I will be sad to not be in class with them anymore. It's funny - it occurred to me on Saturday that the scene I was working on was kind of about losing a friend and I've grown to really love the woman I was working with this session and here was our last performance so it was doing a scene about losing a friend knowing that I'm losing my scene partner. I'm not losing her losing her - I know we'll stay in touch - it just seemed appropriate. We did well, too. Granted, it took us three times to get into it, but once we were there, we were really there and it felt great. After the scene, the teacher kind of took me aside and told me not to lose this because there was some really good work done. I think the most important things I need to remember from this class are that I need to speak my point of view, I need to speak my point of view clearly, and to always choose connection. I want to play around a bit with my warm-up technique, though, so it won't take me three tries to really get into it. I do my homework, I cast my characters, I build my private life and I'm up there on stage full of history, but I want to be able to hit the ground running and I need to figure out a way to get myself there. Be it looking at a picture or reading over a list of my important points or whatever. I need to figure out a way to get there at the drop of a hat instead of gradually warming into it.
But yeah. I maybe be on a bit of radio silence as I take the rest of the summer off from classes. But I do want to thank all of my teachers and classmates for working with me, pushing me, challenging me, being there when I had my little breakdowns and my big breakdowns, encouraging me, loving me, and accepting me as we all went on this journey together toward becoming fuller, more complete performers. I love you and hope all we get to work together again someday. Hopefully on a play involving monkeys.
15 June 2010
The Good and The Bad
I don't know that "bad" necessarily applies, but I didn't feel good after my class last night. In retrospect, I'm not sure why, unless it was a discomfort with the character kind of thing. My partner and I actually did some really good work. The teacher coached us a bit, and then one moment would lead to a new revelation and we'd find ourselves going a whole new direction and that was actually kind of fun. And exactly what the acting/rehearsing process should be. We freed ourselves up a lot and we affected each other and found new things in the script we hadn't found before. I just went home feeling like crap, though. Not sure why. Acting is supposed to be hard work. It's supposed to be exhausting and frustrating when your character is ultimately the loser in the scene. And I'm the loser in this one - I try so hard to control the whole situation, but end up not getting my way in the end. I get put in my place. Maybe that's good for me. I dunno.
On Saturday, my partner and I got an "excellent work" from our teacher. She had comments for us afterward, of course, and good ones, too, but she (and the rest of the class) was really impressed with our scene. That felt good. She made a good point, though - in the beginning of our scene, I'm kind of telling a story and I haven't connected to why I am telling this specific story to this specific person at this specific time. I need to work on that more so we have a connection through the whole scene and not just the second half of it. But that one felt good. I like the character. I like the relationship my scene partner and I have developed. As much as I'll be happy to have my Saturday mornings back, I'll miss this class.
I kind of want to talk to both of my teachers after our classes end to see if they have any parting words of wisdom for me. From the one class, I think I've learned that I need to speak to my point of view and I need to speak to it clearly. From the other one...I'm not sure. I don't know that I'll be taking more classes with these teachers, though, so I kind of want to get my last bit of advice before I don't have easy access to them anymore, you know?
Anyway. I only have one more of each class so I really have to step it up and bring it. I think there is some reality TV show out there about being an actor - I should be on that show. I think I'd do quite well.
On Saturday, my partner and I got an "excellent work" from our teacher. She had comments for us afterward, of course, and good ones, too, but she (and the rest of the class) was really impressed with our scene. That felt good. She made a good point, though - in the beginning of our scene, I'm kind of telling a story and I haven't connected to why I am telling this specific story to this specific person at this specific time. I need to work on that more so we have a connection through the whole scene and not just the second half of it. But that one felt good. I like the character. I like the relationship my scene partner and I have developed. As much as I'll be happy to have my Saturday mornings back, I'll miss this class.
I kind of want to talk to both of my teachers after our classes end to see if they have any parting words of wisdom for me. From the one class, I think I've learned that I need to speak to my point of view and I need to speak to it clearly. From the other one...I'm not sure. I don't know that I'll be taking more classes with these teachers, though, so I kind of want to get my last bit of advice before I don't have easy access to them anymore, you know?
Anyway. I only have one more of each class so I really have to step it up and bring it. I think there is some reality TV show out there about being an actor - I should be on that show. I think I'd do quite well.
08 June 2010
Addendum
Oh! One more thing.
No, the scene is not about you, but there is a lot you can do to prepare for a scene if your partner is not available to rehearse. All of that stuff about filling in the gaps - you can think about that on the train or in the shower or while you are doing dishes. Your scene partner doesn't necessarily need to know what kind of underwear your character wears, but if you want to know what is in your character's underwear drawer, go ahead and know it. There is nothing that says you can only work on things with your scene partner present and script in hand. When teachers talk about being prepared for class, this is what they are talking about.
Okay, now I'm stopping.
No, the scene is not about you, but there is a lot you can do to prepare for a scene if your partner is not available to rehearse. All of that stuff about filling in the gaps - you can think about that on the train or in the shower or while you are doing dishes. Your scene partner doesn't necessarily need to know what kind of underwear your character wears, but if you want to know what is in your character's underwear drawer, go ahead and know it. There is nothing that says you can only work on things with your scene partner present and script in hand. When teachers talk about being prepared for class, this is what they are talking about.
Okay, now I'm stopping.
Give it to Me, Baby...uh huh, uh huh
I was thinking about a couple of things in class last night and part of me thinks they could be the beginnings of the foundation of my own theories on acting and part of me thinks they are really pretentious observations that I feel kind of bad making even though I know they apply to me, too. But I'm going to go ahead and write about them from the "these are helpful hints for actors to keep in mind" perspective. I don't mean to tell you what to do in your craft - you are welcome to tell me to piss off - these are just things I have observed that make scenes more enjoyable to watch and to be in.
Acting is not about you. It's not. Yes, it is you up there and yes, you get to fill in the gaps in the character with whatever you want to, but it's not about you up there. It is about the moment and the scene and the circumstance and the connection you have with your scene partner. Think about real life - when you're talking to a friend or family member and you're an active participant in the conversation, the conversation is fun, yes? When you are listening and responding? As opposed to when your mind is elsewhere and you're not really paying attention to your friend. The second option there is a dull conversation that neither person wants to be in and that will probably end really soon. Scenes work the same way. There is a reason your character is there, speaking these specific words at this specific time to this specific person. If you were supposed to tune out, the author would not have written the scene. So be involved. The scene is not about you. It is bigger than that.
Acting is an exercise in giving. Now that you are invested in the scene and focused and talking to your partner, you are giving him/her something to work with. As the scene partner, you shouldn't just take that as an opportunity to show off. You need to take it in, let it affect you, and spit it right back out so that you give your partner something to work with. If you think of the scene in terms of fueling your partner instead of playing an emotion, you will find that the emotions come, and both you and your partner are fueled by the whole thing. The more you put into a scene, the more you get back out of it. So try it. Try giving your scene partner something. Try giving your scene partner something real. If your character was supposed to be lost in his/her own head, the author would not have included a second character in the scene. Though there is purpose even in a monologue or soliloquy, but I'm not talking about that right now.
Dialogue is a conversation. I know a lot of people think that the hardest part about acting is memorizing lines. I think that is because they are thinking of the lines as just a stream of words. They're not. The lines are a conversation. There are words said by one person that spark the words said by the other person and so on and so forth. One character asks, "You're not mad at me, are you?" and upon hearing the word "mad," the second character replies, "Mad at you? Why should I be mad at you?" It makes sense. It's logical. It's how people talk to one another. So if you stop thinking of it as a stream of words that have to be memorized in a certain order, the right words come out a lot easier than you might expect them to. And building on that, adding it to the idea that acting is an exercise in giving, as you memorize your lines, take note that there are certain words that you say that trigger what your partner is going to say next. Please please please please try to remember to say those trigger words. In the above exchange, if "You're not mad at me, are you?" comes out as, "You okay?" then the response of, "Mad at you? Why should I be mad at you?" no longer makes sense in the realm of the conversation. Without reference to that word "mad," a whole chunk of the scene can be lost. So please try to look at the scene as a conversation, not just a random string of words. You have a lot of stuff in there that you need to be able to give your partner, emotionally and verbally, so be aware of that.
They are called plays for a reason. There was one woman in class who said she was having a hard time with her character because it is a secondary character in the play as a whole and there wasn't a whole lot of information about her in the script. The teacher told her that she was then free to fill in those gaps with whatever she wanted. That made me think a lot about the roles I've been given. I am seldom a lead character. I have been a lead, and I have been part of an ensemble. But even back in college, when I was cast as Francis in Five Women Wearing the Same Dress, I remember the director telling me something along the lines of she would have like to give me a character with more stage time, but I was the only person she trusted to be able to play Francis without turning her into a caricature. She trusted me to take the little bit I was given in the script and turn that into a complete person. And I remember several people telling me I was fascinating to watch on stage because even when I wasn't the focal point of the conversation, I was doing something. I was active. I was alive. I was in the chorus of Romeo and Juliet the opera in college, too, and in the opening party scene, the rest of the chorus was standing in little clusters, hugging the scenery so to speak. I had this hideous pink dress on that turned into a giant bell when I twirled, so as the curtain came up, I twirled, just to add some life to the scene. And then, knowing the scene wasn't about me, I went back to being background when someone else needed the focus. My point being, if you don't have a lot of information about a character, make it up. If questions aren't answered in the text, answer them however you want to answer them. Use your imagination. Play! Make this a real person. Just because you only have two lines doesn't mean you are any less of a person than the guy who has two hundred lines. Last night, for the first time in a long time, I was proud of the fact that I usually play supporting characters because I felt like it meant my directors trust me as a performer to fill out the story or the scene as it needs to be filled out without a lot of fuss. Like they know when I'm in the supporting cast, they don't have to worry about it - they can focus on the stuff in the foreground knowing the background is under control. I don't know if that is what any of my directors have thought, but it is a possibility that occurred to me last night and it kind of made me happy.
Take every opportunity to practice your craft. EVERY OPPORTUNITY. I'm not saying you should "be on" all of the time or raise the stakes at Thanksgiving dinner for the sake of making things dramatic, but when you are at a rehearsal, be at that rehearsal. When you are in class, be in class. When you are meeting with your partner outside of class, use that time to work out some of your issues. I don't understand why some people think it's okay to slack off in class. You're paying money to be there - don't you want to try stuff? Don't you want to learn? Why are you taking classes if you don't want to push yourself and grow? Is it really that much fun to get up there and be blase about everything? I know I have been guilty of this one in the past - I've gone to rehearsals and wished I was somewhere else. I have spent a few class periods not jumping up to work in repetition. But class time is experimental time. This is your opportunity to do things you would never be able to get away with in an actual show. This is your chance to try stuff and be crazy and push things so far that the teacher tells you to reign it in a bit. But you know what? The teacher probably won't tell you to reign it in because by the time you think you've taken it too far, you're probably right where you should be. And here, in class, in this safe space, you have the chance to get comfortable with what that feels like. Don't waste that time worrying about whether or not you look cool. Get up there and work with your partner, give him or her things to work with, make your point of view known, follow your impulses. If you don't do those things with any sort of regularity, you'll fall out of the habit and your abilities will atrophy. Trust me, they will. So use every moment you are given to practice your craft.
Okay, I'll get down off of my high horse now. My teachers probably have a whole slew of comments for me that are in contradiction to everything I just said, but these are the things I was thinking about in class last night. That, and the fact that I really am good at this. When I don't get notes or comments from my teachers, I think it is probably because they're not seeing a lot that needs major fixing, not because they have given up on me as being a hopeless case. I'm not hopeless. I'm good at this.
Acting is not about you. It's not. Yes, it is you up there and yes, you get to fill in the gaps in the character with whatever you want to, but it's not about you up there. It is about the moment and the scene and the circumstance and the connection you have with your scene partner. Think about real life - when you're talking to a friend or family member and you're an active participant in the conversation, the conversation is fun, yes? When you are listening and responding? As opposed to when your mind is elsewhere and you're not really paying attention to your friend. The second option there is a dull conversation that neither person wants to be in and that will probably end really soon. Scenes work the same way. There is a reason your character is there, speaking these specific words at this specific time to this specific person. If you were supposed to tune out, the author would not have written the scene. So be involved. The scene is not about you. It is bigger than that.
Acting is an exercise in giving. Now that you are invested in the scene and focused and talking to your partner, you are giving him/her something to work with. As the scene partner, you shouldn't just take that as an opportunity to show off. You need to take it in, let it affect you, and spit it right back out so that you give your partner something to work with. If you think of the scene in terms of fueling your partner instead of playing an emotion, you will find that the emotions come, and both you and your partner are fueled by the whole thing. The more you put into a scene, the more you get back out of it. So try it. Try giving your scene partner something. Try giving your scene partner something real. If your character was supposed to be lost in his/her own head, the author would not have included a second character in the scene. Though there is purpose even in a monologue or soliloquy, but I'm not talking about that right now.
Dialogue is a conversation. I know a lot of people think that the hardest part about acting is memorizing lines. I think that is because they are thinking of the lines as just a stream of words. They're not. The lines are a conversation. There are words said by one person that spark the words said by the other person and so on and so forth. One character asks, "You're not mad at me, are you?" and upon hearing the word "mad," the second character replies, "Mad at you? Why should I be mad at you?" It makes sense. It's logical. It's how people talk to one another. So if you stop thinking of it as a stream of words that have to be memorized in a certain order, the right words come out a lot easier than you might expect them to. And building on that, adding it to the idea that acting is an exercise in giving, as you memorize your lines, take note that there are certain words that you say that trigger what your partner is going to say next. Please please please please try to remember to say those trigger words. In the above exchange, if "You're not mad at me, are you?" comes out as, "You okay?" then the response of, "Mad at you? Why should I be mad at you?" no longer makes sense in the realm of the conversation. Without reference to that word "mad," a whole chunk of the scene can be lost. So please try to look at the scene as a conversation, not just a random string of words. You have a lot of stuff in there that you need to be able to give your partner, emotionally and verbally, so be aware of that.
They are called plays for a reason. There was one woman in class who said she was having a hard time with her character because it is a secondary character in the play as a whole and there wasn't a whole lot of information about her in the script. The teacher told her that she was then free to fill in those gaps with whatever she wanted. That made me think a lot about the roles I've been given. I am seldom a lead character. I have been a lead, and I have been part of an ensemble. But even back in college, when I was cast as Francis in Five Women Wearing the Same Dress, I remember the director telling me something along the lines of she would have like to give me a character with more stage time, but I was the only person she trusted to be able to play Francis without turning her into a caricature. She trusted me to take the little bit I was given in the script and turn that into a complete person. And I remember several people telling me I was fascinating to watch on stage because even when I wasn't the focal point of the conversation, I was doing something. I was active. I was alive. I was in the chorus of Romeo and Juliet the opera in college, too, and in the opening party scene, the rest of the chorus was standing in little clusters, hugging the scenery so to speak. I had this hideous pink dress on that turned into a giant bell when I twirled, so as the curtain came up, I twirled, just to add some life to the scene. And then, knowing the scene wasn't about me, I went back to being background when someone else needed the focus. My point being, if you don't have a lot of information about a character, make it up. If questions aren't answered in the text, answer them however you want to answer them. Use your imagination. Play! Make this a real person. Just because you only have two lines doesn't mean you are any less of a person than the guy who has two hundred lines. Last night, for the first time in a long time, I was proud of the fact that I usually play supporting characters because I felt like it meant my directors trust me as a performer to fill out the story or the scene as it needs to be filled out without a lot of fuss. Like they know when I'm in the supporting cast, they don't have to worry about it - they can focus on the stuff in the foreground knowing the background is under control. I don't know if that is what any of my directors have thought, but it is a possibility that occurred to me last night and it kind of made me happy.
Take every opportunity to practice your craft. EVERY OPPORTUNITY. I'm not saying you should "be on" all of the time or raise the stakes at Thanksgiving dinner for the sake of making things dramatic, but when you are at a rehearsal, be at that rehearsal. When you are in class, be in class. When you are meeting with your partner outside of class, use that time to work out some of your issues. I don't understand why some people think it's okay to slack off in class. You're paying money to be there - don't you want to try stuff? Don't you want to learn? Why are you taking classes if you don't want to push yourself and grow? Is it really that much fun to get up there and be blase about everything? I know I have been guilty of this one in the past - I've gone to rehearsals and wished I was somewhere else. I have spent a few class periods not jumping up to work in repetition. But class time is experimental time. This is your opportunity to do things you would never be able to get away with in an actual show. This is your chance to try stuff and be crazy and push things so far that the teacher tells you to reign it in a bit. But you know what? The teacher probably won't tell you to reign it in because by the time you think you've taken it too far, you're probably right where you should be. And here, in class, in this safe space, you have the chance to get comfortable with what that feels like. Don't waste that time worrying about whether or not you look cool. Get up there and work with your partner, give him or her things to work with, make your point of view known, follow your impulses. If you don't do those things with any sort of regularity, you'll fall out of the habit and your abilities will atrophy. Trust me, they will. So use every moment you are given to practice your craft.
Okay, I'll get down off of my high horse now. My teachers probably have a whole slew of comments for me that are in contradiction to everything I just said, but these are the things I was thinking about in class last night. That, and the fact that I really am good at this. When I don't get notes or comments from my teachers, I think it is probably because they're not seeing a lot that needs major fixing, not because they have given up on me as being a hopeless case. I'm not hopeless. I'm good at this.
01 June 2010
Self-Doubt and Wonderment
What kind of mint?
I'm suffering (a bit) from bouts of self-doubt, in large part because I'm not getting the same kind of feedback in my classes that the other students are. In my one class, the teacher has been able to identify little ticks and quirks and safety mechanisms that just about everyone else has, but she has said nothing to me. Do I not have these things, or has she just not seen them yet? I can't imagine that I'm an actor without habitual behaviors. Does that even happen? I don't think so. She has called me out for not speaking my point of view in repetition, and I noticed myself being fearful in repetition last class, so that's something I can work on. I used to be fearless, but I was really trepidatious in working with one scene partner in particular. I should have followed my instincts instead of worrying about how they would affect him. My job is to affect him. Anyway. But then when I'm up doing table work with my regular partner, I don't get a lot of notes. Hardly any. I say a thing or two about my character or about the circumstance of the play, but that's about it. Now, I don't know if that is because of where we are sitting in the room in relation to the teacher - maybe it's harder for her to see me - or if it's because the real meaty bits for my character come later in the scene and we haven't gotten there yet, but I don't know what to do when I'm not getting notes. I just don't. I know I haven't explored everything that there is to explore about this scene or this character, but one would think that if I'm not getting many notes, that I'm doing a decent job, yes? Or that I'm doing horribly and she thinks I'm a lost cause. I don't think I'm a lost cause, and I don't think she's the sort of instructor who would give up on me if I was - I've seen how she works with some of the other students in the class who are visibly struggling. She's not the "give a free pass" kind of teacher. So why am I getting a free pass (almost)?
I have been told by directors in the past, when I ask them for feedback after going several rehearsals without any, that "When I can get the rest of the cast to where you are, then I'll give you notes." I know that is meant as a compliment, and it is very flattering, but it also makes me really self-conscious. I want to learn. I want to grow. And I can't do that if I don't get any notes. Anyway.
I do like the scenes I'm currently working on, so maybe I am doing well enough with them that the teacher doesn't see anything glaringly awful about it and is just going to let me play. I guess that's an option. It's funny - for the scene I'm working on for my Saturday class, I have the feeling that the character is one of those women who wears too much jewelry and not enough underwear, if you know what I mean. Flow-y, flowery dresses, long necklaces, kind of looks like a hippie. So I wore a long, floral dress to class with some more jewelry than I normally wear and tried to make my hair look kind of messy, like I didn't really try to style it, and the response from my classmates, scene partner, and the teacher, was that I looked really nice. I hadn't meant to look nice. I meant to look like I didn't care about my appearance. Oh well. Anyway.
I'm just rambling now, so I think I'll stop. I am good at this. Maybe I just need to do something glaringly awful to prove that to myself.
I'm suffering (a bit) from bouts of self-doubt, in large part because I'm not getting the same kind of feedback in my classes that the other students are. In my one class, the teacher has been able to identify little ticks and quirks and safety mechanisms that just about everyone else has, but she has said nothing to me. Do I not have these things, or has she just not seen them yet? I can't imagine that I'm an actor without habitual behaviors. Does that even happen? I don't think so. She has called me out for not speaking my point of view in repetition, and I noticed myself being fearful in repetition last class, so that's something I can work on. I used to be fearless, but I was really trepidatious in working with one scene partner in particular. I should have followed my instincts instead of worrying about how they would affect him. My job is to affect him. Anyway. But then when I'm up doing table work with my regular partner, I don't get a lot of notes. Hardly any. I say a thing or two about my character or about the circumstance of the play, but that's about it. Now, I don't know if that is because of where we are sitting in the room in relation to the teacher - maybe it's harder for her to see me - or if it's because the real meaty bits for my character come later in the scene and we haven't gotten there yet, but I don't know what to do when I'm not getting notes. I just don't. I know I haven't explored everything that there is to explore about this scene or this character, but one would think that if I'm not getting many notes, that I'm doing a decent job, yes? Or that I'm doing horribly and she thinks I'm a lost cause. I don't think I'm a lost cause, and I don't think she's the sort of instructor who would give up on me if I was - I've seen how she works with some of the other students in the class who are visibly struggling. She's not the "give a free pass" kind of teacher. So why am I getting a free pass (almost)?
I have been told by directors in the past, when I ask them for feedback after going several rehearsals without any, that "When I can get the rest of the cast to where you are, then I'll give you notes." I know that is meant as a compliment, and it is very flattering, but it also makes me really self-conscious. I want to learn. I want to grow. And I can't do that if I don't get any notes. Anyway.
I do like the scenes I'm currently working on, so maybe I am doing well enough with them that the teacher doesn't see anything glaringly awful about it and is just going to let me play. I guess that's an option. It's funny - for the scene I'm working on for my Saturday class, I have the feeling that the character is one of those women who wears too much jewelry and not enough underwear, if you know what I mean. Flow-y, flowery dresses, long necklaces, kind of looks like a hippie. So I wore a long, floral dress to class with some more jewelry than I normally wear and tried to make my hair look kind of messy, like I didn't really try to style it, and the response from my classmates, scene partner, and the teacher, was that I looked really nice. I hadn't meant to look nice. I meant to look like I didn't care about my appearance. Oh well. Anyway.
I'm just rambling now, so I think I'll stop. I am good at this. Maybe I just need to do something glaringly awful to prove that to myself.
18 May 2010
Cool
Acting is not about being cool. You can't get up there and "be cool" any more than you can get up there and "be funny" or "recreate that spontaneous moment." It just doesn't work. The harder you try to "be cool" and the more you focus on "being cool," the less the audience cares about you and the harder it is for your partner to connect to you and the scene just falls flat. The brilliant thing about acting is that the more you are uncool on stage (or screen), the more the audience loves it and thinks you are then a cool actor. Think about it. When has Michael Cera ever played a "cool guy?" Would Al Pacino or Jack Nicholson be as respected as they are if they didn't know how to just completely lose their shit in movies like "The Shining" or "Scent of a Woman?" We, as audience members, sit and wait for the characters in front of us to just lose it. And when they do, we lose it with them and have that beautiful cathartic moment that lets us go home feeling like we just experienced something great. But if they keep it all in and just play "the cool guy," we never get to have that experience and we walk away dissatisfied.
This is my current issue with the new Doctor - I think he's kind of caught up in "being cool" and hasn't figured out yet what it is about the Doctor that makes him cool. And in class last night, several of us were concerned with "being cool," and it made our scenes flat. But once we got over that and started working moment to moment and trying to affect one another, the scenes totally came alive and it was wonderful.
That being said, acting is also a very giving activity. As an actor, you have to give your partner things to work with. You have to let them know what your point of view is so they can have a point of view about that and you can have a point of view about that and so one and so on and so on. I was called out on Saturday for not making my point of view clear, and it's true. I got caught up in judging what my partner was saying and I couldn't find the right words and I got flustered and lost. I should have just observed what I saw, and let him know how I felt about it. On the up side, right after I was called out, I jumped right back up and did another scene, and then got called up into a third. Like the old adage about falling off a horse - if I hadn't gotten back up immediately and tried again, I would have over-analyzed what I did and I would have gotten self-conscious. Acting is a very active thing. You have to do it to get good at it. Sitting and thinking about it just starts to drive me crazy.
But the whole giving thing. You have to give your partner things to work with, and they, in turn, give you things to work with. And then a scene comes alive. And you give the audience that experience of feeling something or witnessing something grand. When you decide to "be cool," or "be collected," or "keep your shit together," you have already decided to disengage from your partner and nothing will go anywhere fun. I was guilty of this last night just as much as the next guy. I decided that my character was strong and sort of protective of herself and that was that. I don't know that I was giving my partner anything to play with. And by the same token, he had most of the dialogue in the scene, but I don't feel like he was really saying a lot of it to me, it was just sort of being said. But then the teacher tweaked our scene and gave us some things to think about so by the end, he was physically threatening and I was really afraid, which added this wonderful dimension to the scene that had been completely lacking in previous weeks.
I dunno. There was another woman who got sort of reamed in class on Saturday because we couldn't see her face through her hair. I had one teacher in high school, I think, who used to yell at all of the girls to tie their hair back in class so we could see their faces. There are some women in these classes I've been taking for whom hair issues have been present since day one and it wasn't until this current class that anyone said anything and I'm glad she finally did. I'd like to be able to see what my classmates are doing, but I can't see emotion through hair. The instructor on Saturday, though, took it a bit further and talked about how actors want to be seen and they want to find their light and they want to be visible and they want the person in the back row to know what they are feeling and that if someone would rather be up on stage hiding behind his or her hair, maybe he or she should think twice about pursuing an acting career. I felt for the woman who was being told this - I really did. But I think there is merit to what the teacher is saying. And I think it also applies to the "being cool" and "giving" aspects of acting, too. If all you want to do is be in movies so you can "be cool," please stay home. If all you want to do is be an actor so you can make money, please stay home. If all you want to do is be on stage so you can be in the spotlight, either write a decent one-person show or stay home. If you want to get up there and connect with someone else so you can experience things and you want to play and experiment and give and receive and learn how to (safely) just loose your shit so everyone in the room can have that catharsis with you, then please look me up and let's do a scene together. Because that is what acting is about. It is about all of those moments that we don't allow ourselves to have in real life. It is about wanting things and doing what you have to go get those things. It is active. It is about pursuing objectives. It is about effecting and being affected. In other words, it's not about "being cool," and it's not about you. So get over yourself.
Myself included.
This is my current issue with the new Doctor - I think he's kind of caught up in "being cool" and hasn't figured out yet what it is about the Doctor that makes him cool. And in class last night, several of us were concerned with "being cool," and it made our scenes flat. But once we got over that and started working moment to moment and trying to affect one another, the scenes totally came alive and it was wonderful.
That being said, acting is also a very giving activity. As an actor, you have to give your partner things to work with. You have to let them know what your point of view is so they can have a point of view about that and you can have a point of view about that and so one and so on and so on. I was called out on Saturday for not making my point of view clear, and it's true. I got caught up in judging what my partner was saying and I couldn't find the right words and I got flustered and lost. I should have just observed what I saw, and let him know how I felt about it. On the up side, right after I was called out, I jumped right back up and did another scene, and then got called up into a third. Like the old adage about falling off a horse - if I hadn't gotten back up immediately and tried again, I would have over-analyzed what I did and I would have gotten self-conscious. Acting is a very active thing. You have to do it to get good at it. Sitting and thinking about it just starts to drive me crazy.
But the whole giving thing. You have to give your partner things to work with, and they, in turn, give you things to work with. And then a scene comes alive. And you give the audience that experience of feeling something or witnessing something grand. When you decide to "be cool," or "be collected," or "keep your shit together," you have already decided to disengage from your partner and nothing will go anywhere fun. I was guilty of this last night just as much as the next guy. I decided that my character was strong and sort of protective of herself and that was that. I don't know that I was giving my partner anything to play with. And by the same token, he had most of the dialogue in the scene, but I don't feel like he was really saying a lot of it to me, it was just sort of being said. But then the teacher tweaked our scene and gave us some things to think about so by the end, he was physically threatening and I was really afraid, which added this wonderful dimension to the scene that had been completely lacking in previous weeks.
I dunno. There was another woman who got sort of reamed in class on Saturday because we couldn't see her face through her hair. I had one teacher in high school, I think, who used to yell at all of the girls to tie their hair back in class so we could see their faces. There are some women in these classes I've been taking for whom hair issues have been present since day one and it wasn't until this current class that anyone said anything and I'm glad she finally did. I'd like to be able to see what my classmates are doing, but I can't see emotion through hair. The instructor on Saturday, though, took it a bit further and talked about how actors want to be seen and they want to find their light and they want to be visible and they want the person in the back row to know what they are feeling and that if someone would rather be up on stage hiding behind his or her hair, maybe he or she should think twice about pursuing an acting career. I felt for the woman who was being told this - I really did. But I think there is merit to what the teacher is saying. And I think it also applies to the "being cool" and "giving" aspects of acting, too. If all you want to do is be in movies so you can "be cool," please stay home. If all you want to do is be an actor so you can make money, please stay home. If all you want to do is be on stage so you can be in the spotlight, either write a decent one-person show or stay home. If you want to get up there and connect with someone else so you can experience things and you want to play and experiment and give and receive and learn how to (safely) just loose your shit so everyone in the room can have that catharsis with you, then please look me up and let's do a scene together. Because that is what acting is about. It is about all of those moments that we don't allow ourselves to have in real life. It is about wanting things and doing what you have to go get those things. It is active. It is about pursuing objectives. It is about effecting and being affected. In other words, it's not about "being cool," and it's not about you. So get over yourself.
Myself included.
03 May 2010
Scene Study
I'm really nervous about my class tonight. This one is a contemporary scene study class and I've been partnered with a man who gets nothing but rave reviews from everyone who has worked with him, doing a scene from a show that actually made me sick to my stomach by the time I finished reading it. It's a play about a stalker and the stalking victim. There is no actual violence in it, but the threats are there and they're disturbing.
We read some of the play in class last week. It starts with a blind date and I told the class in discussion that I have been on that date a million times. And that maybe she said certain things just to be nice even though she doesn't want to be there. And that maybe she agreed to go out a second time because as a single woman in her thirties, maybe she's starting to wonder if she let Mr. Right go already for some stupid reason so she should be more open to the quirks of others instead of dismissing people outright. And I realized as I read this play that I am the stalking victim. I have not had to change my name or move cities to get away from someone, but I have broken up with people who had problems letting it go. And I have been on that date a million times and I have said those things to be nice and I have started to wonder if I should give the creepy hairy guy a second chance because maybe I'm being shallow and all of that kind of thing. And I think that's why I was assigned this scene - because I am this woman in so many ways.
So I'm nervous. Because I've not worked with anyone in this class before. Because this is has the potential to be gut-wrenching. And because they're all really good performers and I know any of you reading this who know me would say I'm a really good performer, too, but I felt almost out-matched in class last week. I'm really going to have to bring it and that scares me.
And excites me. It's scary in the good way. This is what I wanted, so this is what I shall get.
We read some of the play in class last week. It starts with a blind date and I told the class in discussion that I have been on that date a million times. And that maybe she said certain things just to be nice even though she doesn't want to be there. And that maybe she agreed to go out a second time because as a single woman in her thirties, maybe she's starting to wonder if she let Mr. Right go already for some stupid reason so she should be more open to the quirks of others instead of dismissing people outright. And I realized as I read this play that I am the stalking victim. I have not had to change my name or move cities to get away from someone, but I have broken up with people who had problems letting it go. And I have been on that date a million times and I have said those things to be nice and I have started to wonder if I should give the creepy hairy guy a second chance because maybe I'm being shallow and all of that kind of thing. And I think that's why I was assigned this scene - because I am this woman in so many ways.
So I'm nervous. Because I've not worked with anyone in this class before. Because this is has the potential to be gut-wrenching. And because they're all really good performers and I know any of you reading this who know me would say I'm a really good performer, too, but I felt almost out-matched in class last week. I'm really going to have to bring it and that scares me.
And excites me. It's scary in the good way. This is what I wanted, so this is what I shall get.
29 March 2010
Last Class
So tonight is the last class of this session and I'm nervous about it but I also really don't care. Which is a horrible horrible horrible thing to say because it's not true. I do care. I want to go in there and do well. There are 11 people in the class and the last exercise is paired-up partner work, so I get to do two scenes and I'm thrilled that I get to do two scenes and I'm thrilled that I get to do two so very different scenes and I love my scene partners and I don't want to go in there and let them down.
That being said, since the time that this session of classes started to now, I have watched the efforts of the past year sort of go up in smoke. That's hard to take. When you pour your heart and soul into something and find out it's just not enough, that hurts. It hurts enough to inspire a person to rethink his or her goals and try to reevaluate how to get there, if she still wants to get there. And it can sour a person on the whole "being an artist" thing.
I will always be an artist. I will always come up with ideas for songs and projects and I will always love performing. The question is, do I still need to be an artist outside of my own home, or could I be happy living the 9 to 5 lifestyle, creating stuff that nobody else ever sees or hears or experiences? The answer is, I don't know.
The frustrating part is that I am a good actor. I'm doing well in these classes. My classmates like working with me. My classmates like watching me. My teachers have some really wonderful things to say about my work. Which means that there are about fifteen people who know I'm really good at this and who would encourage me to continue to pursue my dreams. Outside of that circle of fifteen people, I can't get anyone to give me the time of day at the moment. I know some people who would be in a position to help me and I have asked in the past and nothing really has come of it. I know people who could help my music career, too, but I somehow can't get them to spend three minutes listening to a song. The greatest skill that I lack as a performer is the ability to network. I'm horrible at it. I hate the inane getting-to-know-you chit-chat. I hate coming off as an opportunist. I hate being constantly sized-up. I'm horrible at tooting my own horn. And if I am going to go anywhere in my career as an artist, that is exactly what I am going to have to do. The question is, in the face of my recent onslaught of rejections, do I have the energy, confidence, and motivation to do that all on my own? The answer is, I don't know.
So in the meantime, I'm going to my class tonight to do my two scenes and I hope they go well. If they don't, though, it's not the end of the world. This session will end either way and I still get to sit and think about whether or not I want to continue with these classes. It sounds like several of the people I enjoy working with in the class will not be continuing, which is another factor to consider.
I don't know. I honestly don't. I'm sure I'll figure it out at some point, and I hope I start to care again soon because I really do love this and I love being the girl who dreams big. But it hurts when your big dreams turn into big disappointments and sometimes, you just gotta take the time to heal. I have loved this class and I love my classmates, but I think I may need some time to heal and for that reason, I'm glad it is the last class of the session.
That being said, since the time that this session of classes started to now, I have watched the efforts of the past year sort of go up in smoke. That's hard to take. When you pour your heart and soul into something and find out it's just not enough, that hurts. It hurts enough to inspire a person to rethink his or her goals and try to reevaluate how to get there, if she still wants to get there. And it can sour a person on the whole "being an artist" thing.
I will always be an artist. I will always come up with ideas for songs and projects and I will always love performing. The question is, do I still need to be an artist outside of my own home, or could I be happy living the 9 to 5 lifestyle, creating stuff that nobody else ever sees or hears or experiences? The answer is, I don't know.
The frustrating part is that I am a good actor. I'm doing well in these classes. My classmates like working with me. My classmates like watching me. My teachers have some really wonderful things to say about my work. Which means that there are about fifteen people who know I'm really good at this and who would encourage me to continue to pursue my dreams. Outside of that circle of fifteen people, I can't get anyone to give me the time of day at the moment. I know some people who would be in a position to help me and I have asked in the past and nothing really has come of it. I know people who could help my music career, too, but I somehow can't get them to spend three minutes listening to a song. The greatest skill that I lack as a performer is the ability to network. I'm horrible at it. I hate the inane getting-to-know-you chit-chat. I hate coming off as an opportunist. I hate being constantly sized-up. I'm horrible at tooting my own horn. And if I am going to go anywhere in my career as an artist, that is exactly what I am going to have to do. The question is, in the face of my recent onslaught of rejections, do I have the energy, confidence, and motivation to do that all on my own? The answer is, I don't know.
So in the meantime, I'm going to my class tonight to do my two scenes and I hope they go well. If they don't, though, it's not the end of the world. This session will end either way and I still get to sit and think about whether or not I want to continue with these classes. It sounds like several of the people I enjoy working with in the class will not be continuing, which is another factor to consider.
I don't know. I honestly don't. I'm sure I'll figure it out at some point, and I hope I start to care again soon because I really do love this and I love being the girl who dreams big. But it hurts when your big dreams turn into big disappointments and sometimes, you just gotta take the time to heal. I have loved this class and I love my classmates, but I think I may need some time to heal and for that reason, I'm glad it is the last class of the session.
16 March 2010
Ick
I just felt icky after last night's class. In my scene, I was stuck between a gross place and an even grosser place - do I stay with the uber creepy guy or the violent guy? Disclaimer: I was in no physical danger in the scene at any point. Not even close. We just had this really off-the-wall set-up for our improv scene that just left me feeling icky. And the fun part is, it was based on an actual play. Which we knew going in, but I didn't know what play. Now I kind of wish I didn't know which play because I don't particularly like the author. I know, I know, he's famous and everyone loves him and his stuff is classic, but I hate the female characters that he writes. Hate them. I had to play one in a scene in class in college and it still goes down as one of the worst classroom experiences I've had. If you're going to play, you should do so in class, yes? My scene partner wanted me to essentially do a caricature of this woman the way everyone else ever has played her, and I wanted to do something a little different and it was just bad. Just plain bad. And I really didn't like that teacher very much, either, so I'm kind of soured on this particular author. Which may be why I just ended up feeling icky last night.
I don't think it was bad work that I did last night. But I wasn't the character as she is written in the play. Which makes sense, as I didn't know what play the scene was based on. The teacher told me I have to reach about ten levels lower on the despair ladder to get where this character needs to be and the funny thing is, in my prep, I was there. But then I walked in and my partner was all kinds of creepy and I just got defensive. So of course I go home and beat myself up for not nailing the character, even though I didn't know who she was supposed to be. I got a lot of things right - all she really has is her sexuality, so my costuming choices were right. But I hadn't lost all hope or all respect for myself. Which may be the fundamental difference between myself and the female characters written by this particular author. I don't know. I'm getting a copy of the script because we are supposed to start working on the scene for our final class, so we'll see what she's really like.
I think it could be really good for me to play the type of character I don't normally get to play.
I think also, that in my real life right now, I am trying so hard to find the positives and keep myself sane and find some sort of belief in myself that I just couldn't lose all of that on stage last night. I'm feeling a little better, though still antsy, and I'm making the plans that I can make, not knowing what's going on. And I have to do those things. If I just let myself be lost and disgruntled and sad, I scare the crap out of my family and friends. Myself sometimes, too. But I'm holding it together at the moment and it's possible that it was just too hard for me to let it all unravel last night, particularly with my uber creepy partner like that.
Here's hoping I get a present soon so I can either hit bottom and know what that's like so I can put it on stage, or so I can regain some faith in myself so I know it's okay to hit bottom on stage. I know that makes no sense to you and that's okay. It makes perfect sense to me.
I don't think it was bad work that I did last night. But I wasn't the character as she is written in the play. Which makes sense, as I didn't know what play the scene was based on. The teacher told me I have to reach about ten levels lower on the despair ladder to get where this character needs to be and the funny thing is, in my prep, I was there. But then I walked in and my partner was all kinds of creepy and I just got defensive. So of course I go home and beat myself up for not nailing the character, even though I didn't know who she was supposed to be. I got a lot of things right - all she really has is her sexuality, so my costuming choices were right. But I hadn't lost all hope or all respect for myself. Which may be the fundamental difference between myself and the female characters written by this particular author. I don't know. I'm getting a copy of the script because we are supposed to start working on the scene for our final class, so we'll see what she's really like.
I think it could be really good for me to play the type of character I don't normally get to play.
I think also, that in my real life right now, I am trying so hard to find the positives and keep myself sane and find some sort of belief in myself that I just couldn't lose all of that on stage last night. I'm feeling a little better, though still antsy, and I'm making the plans that I can make, not knowing what's going on. And I have to do those things. If I just let myself be lost and disgruntled and sad, I scare the crap out of my family and friends. Myself sometimes, too. But I'm holding it together at the moment and it's possible that it was just too hard for me to let it all unravel last night, particularly with my uber creepy partner like that.
Here's hoping I get a present soon so I can either hit bottom and know what that's like so I can put it on stage, or so I can regain some faith in myself so I know it's okay to hit bottom on stage. I know that makes no sense to you and that's okay. It makes perfect sense to me.
09 March 2010
Update
See, the thing is this. I'm good at this. I'm really good at this. I feel like a total bitch saying I'm good at this, but I'm good at this.
My exercise in class last night felt really weird. The character was very close to where I am in my own life right now - sort of one last shot to make it as an actor or she has to give it up completely. I've been feeling that way lately, in large part because I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere and the rejections right now just really hurt. Really hurt. It's a question of do I keep trying even though it hurts more than I can tell you, or do I give up on my dreams which will hurt more than I can tell you so hopefully I'll feel better later on? Neither is a good choice. And the character I played last night was desperate to fix things so that she could continue to be an actor. But I don't feel like I really got to release everything in my release - I was an absolute mess over the weekend when I determined my mantra for this character is "I'm not done being an actor yet," but when I said those words in class, they just felt different. I didn't implode. I cried, but it was very soft. And then, of course, the scene was set up so I didn't know my partner very well to begin with, so I wasn't completely prepared to fall to pieces in front of him. And he's not an actor I have worked with before in class, so that added to it, too - I wasn't sure how far I could push him or how far he was going to push me. And it didn't feel like he pushed. I felt like I did a lot of pushing and I was actually kind of rude and bitchy to him, which was as close to a release as I got in the scene, and he just took it. Agreed with me and moved on. And the whole scene was just...awkward and weird. The teacher called it compelling and thought it was really good. I just felt...weird.
After one of the later exercises, I think I figured out what felt weird about it. It was very much a talking scene. Exposition galore. And I kept trying to stop myself from asking questions in favor of making observations to try to keep our relationship present and in the moment, but it made for really strange conversation, which, given that the scene was so conversational, felt really odd. And then, I don't think I got to release in the scene. Not in any sort of big, satisfying, emotionally cathartic way, anyway, which is what I was hoping for considering how painful the prep for this exercise was. But it didn't come up. As much as I accused him of being the problem, he just took it. He didn't push my bad buttons at all. He just kept trying to be charming, but then would say something awkward and strange and I didn't trust him, but I could see he was trying and I don't know. It wasn't any sort of circumstance in which I would open up and bare my soul to this guy. I do think I gave him a couple of opportunities to call me out on my shit, but he missed them so we moved on. And on the one hand, that is disappointing and I wish I had gotten to release the way I needed to. But on the other hand, it means I went into this exercise with some sort of objective and when the circumstances changed, I went with it. I didn't try to force the scene to be something other than what it was.
I do feel a little bad because at least once, I felt like I was calling my partner out on behavior that perhaps has some roots in his past classroom performances. I apologize for that - I shouldn't be "directing" anyone on stage, and in a way, that's exactly what my character did to his. But then, as I watched some of my fellow students perform their exercises, I found myself wishing I was in the scene with them so I could do exactly that. Call them out on their shit. I know I'm not supposed to do that, but it does bring me back to the thought that maybe I would make a good teacher someday.
I talked to my teacher a little bit this week to see what it is I need to work on because as lovely as it is to be called compelling and to know that I do good work in class, I want to be able to improve on something - I need some direction. She said I need to work on trusting myself. That I know how to do this and I know what the right thing to do is and to just trust that I'll get up there and do it. I don't know that I'm there yet - obviously since I'm second guessing a scene everyone thought was lovely. But I do have a tendency to do do scenes that get deemed lovely, when I'm working with people I've worked with before or I've never been on stage with or people who are struggling in class or people who are excelling in class. The scenes I'm in usually turn out pretty well. I still miss things - opportunities - but I'm still learning. And I'm also guessing that at least some of those missed opportunities wouldn't be missed if I had a script to work with that pointed them out to me, if that makes sense. Doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying to not miss them, but still. I think I've gotten pretty good at being emotionally free to bounce from playful to furious and back again in two seconds flat. I think I've gotten pretty good at recognizing when I'm going into my head so I can try to shift my focus back to my partner. I think I've gotten pretty good at observing my partner. I don't feel like I'm a selfish actor, though I may be a semi-defensive one. And I'm not afraid to go to the scary dark icky places. I'm just...good at this.
So now that I have that knowledge, what do I do with it?
My exercise in class last night felt really weird. The character was very close to where I am in my own life right now - sort of one last shot to make it as an actor or she has to give it up completely. I've been feeling that way lately, in large part because I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere and the rejections right now just really hurt. Really hurt. It's a question of do I keep trying even though it hurts more than I can tell you, or do I give up on my dreams which will hurt more than I can tell you so hopefully I'll feel better later on? Neither is a good choice. And the character I played last night was desperate to fix things so that she could continue to be an actor. But I don't feel like I really got to release everything in my release - I was an absolute mess over the weekend when I determined my mantra for this character is "I'm not done being an actor yet," but when I said those words in class, they just felt different. I didn't implode. I cried, but it was very soft. And then, of course, the scene was set up so I didn't know my partner very well to begin with, so I wasn't completely prepared to fall to pieces in front of him. And he's not an actor I have worked with before in class, so that added to it, too - I wasn't sure how far I could push him or how far he was going to push me. And it didn't feel like he pushed. I felt like I did a lot of pushing and I was actually kind of rude and bitchy to him, which was as close to a release as I got in the scene, and he just took it. Agreed with me and moved on. And the whole scene was just...awkward and weird. The teacher called it compelling and thought it was really good. I just felt...weird.
After one of the later exercises, I think I figured out what felt weird about it. It was very much a talking scene. Exposition galore. And I kept trying to stop myself from asking questions in favor of making observations to try to keep our relationship present and in the moment, but it made for really strange conversation, which, given that the scene was so conversational, felt really odd. And then, I don't think I got to release in the scene. Not in any sort of big, satisfying, emotionally cathartic way, anyway, which is what I was hoping for considering how painful the prep for this exercise was. But it didn't come up. As much as I accused him of being the problem, he just took it. He didn't push my bad buttons at all. He just kept trying to be charming, but then would say something awkward and strange and I didn't trust him, but I could see he was trying and I don't know. It wasn't any sort of circumstance in which I would open up and bare my soul to this guy. I do think I gave him a couple of opportunities to call me out on my shit, but he missed them so we moved on. And on the one hand, that is disappointing and I wish I had gotten to release the way I needed to. But on the other hand, it means I went into this exercise with some sort of objective and when the circumstances changed, I went with it. I didn't try to force the scene to be something other than what it was.
I do feel a little bad because at least once, I felt like I was calling my partner out on behavior that perhaps has some roots in his past classroom performances. I apologize for that - I shouldn't be "directing" anyone on stage, and in a way, that's exactly what my character did to his. But then, as I watched some of my fellow students perform their exercises, I found myself wishing I was in the scene with them so I could do exactly that. Call them out on their shit. I know I'm not supposed to do that, but it does bring me back to the thought that maybe I would make a good teacher someday.
I talked to my teacher a little bit this week to see what it is I need to work on because as lovely as it is to be called compelling and to know that I do good work in class, I want to be able to improve on something - I need some direction. She said I need to work on trusting myself. That I know how to do this and I know what the right thing to do is and to just trust that I'll get up there and do it. I don't know that I'm there yet - obviously since I'm second guessing a scene everyone thought was lovely. But I do have a tendency to do do scenes that get deemed lovely, when I'm working with people I've worked with before or I've never been on stage with or people who are struggling in class or people who are excelling in class. The scenes I'm in usually turn out pretty well. I still miss things - opportunities - but I'm still learning. And I'm also guessing that at least some of those missed opportunities wouldn't be missed if I had a script to work with that pointed them out to me, if that makes sense. Doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying to not miss them, but still. I think I've gotten pretty good at being emotionally free to bounce from playful to furious and back again in two seconds flat. I think I've gotten pretty good at recognizing when I'm going into my head so I can try to shift my focus back to my partner. I think I've gotten pretty good at observing my partner. I don't feel like I'm a selfish actor, though I may be a semi-defensive one. And I'm not afraid to go to the scary dark icky places. I'm just...good at this.
So now that I have that knowledge, what do I do with it?
16 February 2010
I'm Sorry
Last night was probably the most difficult emotional work I have done in class. I'm still kind of reeling from it, which pisses me off in that "this is why Heath Ledger died" kind of a way. I need to be able to snap out of this and remember that it was a scene in a class and does not represent who I am as a person in real life.
It was a scene that dealt with rape, or didn't deal with it, as the case may be. I was not the victim - my roommate and scene partner and best friend was - and my uncle was the supposed perpetrator. In the world of the scene, this uncle is pretty much the only family I have and he has always been good to me. In the world of the scene, I talked to him before I talked to her and he painted her as the bad guy and the attacker. So I was less than sympathetic when she revealed what had happened. And I think that is the part that was/is the hardest for me to deal with. I am, in real life, a nice person. A supportive person. The sort who listens and who will just hold a friend when she is sad or try to make her laugh when she's had a rough day. I am, in real life, a good person and a good friend. In the world of the scene, I was horrible. I was (and still am) mortified by some of the things I was saying to her, but in the world of the scene, they were my truths. I didn't trust her. I hated her for accusing my uncle of that. I wanted it to be her fault or a joke or a something because how am I supposed to choose between my only family and my only friend? And in the end, I lost them both.
I don't think I have cried that hard in a really long time and I was completely drained by the time it was over. I went home and made my cat hug me and curled up in bed with a teddy bear and episodes of South Park to try to get back to normal. But the scene just kept playing and replaying and replaying in my head and I kept beating myself up for all of the things I could have said or should have said and I kept looking at the moments when I could have shown more compassion, or when I wanted her to show some compassion or understanding for the absolute crap situation I was now in and how else could I have tried to make her see that and all of that stuff. And I finally fell asleep at about 12:30, but I woke up again at about 2:30 with this stuff still circling through my head and I couldn't get back to sleep. And it pisses me off! It was a scene! In class! It was all imaginary! None of it actually happened! The teacher had one note for us - she said I needed to fully realize the truth that what I had lost was my friend. I think I did, I just don't think I verbalized it very well when she told me to speak my truth. I said, "I don't want to be alone," knowing that I was. But that was the only note she had for us. Our preparation on our own was great, our preparation together was great, our moment to moment work was great, we were both present at the same time that we had all of this shit to deal with. And the rest of the class was kind of stunned by our work, too. I'm just kind of kicking myself because when it was all over, I really needed a hug but I didn't want to look like that actor who couldn't snap out of it when the scene was done so I just packed up my stuff like normal and by the time I could have asked for a hug, most of my classmates were gone. So I still need one. Badly.
I'm afraid that my classmates saw me as the villain in the scene. I'm afraid that if I make a career out of being a villain, I will have to do scenes like this over and over and over again and I won't have anyone to hug me when I walk off set. On the one hand, it would be great because I will effect people - my scene partners and my audience. On the other hand, I can see how it would get hard to take after a while.
I think the scene was also really hard for me because I based the character of my uncle on one of my real uncles, and I had a picture of him sitting on the table in our apartment. And I know this uncle. He is wonderful and smart and supportive and caring and will help his family through anything if they need it. I could see him actually taking care of me when my parents were killed, if something like that were to happen. So for her to be accusing him of that...it made it very real for me. And I can't decide if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Yes, it upped the stakes for me, so in that respect, it was probably a good thing. But it hurts to think of my uncle that way, so in that respect, maybe I should have cast a slightly more fictional uncle. I don't know if my choices to cast people close to my heart are good ones or bad ones. The answer is probably "yes."
What's really funny is as I was watching the other scenes in class (we went last), I started to feel really unprepared. I knew who I had cast as my uncle and who I had cast as my boyfriend and what life had been like for the last year with this woman as my roommate, but I honestly didn't know how to feel when I walked in the room or what I really wanted from her. Part of me wanted her to be the liar, part of me wanted her to not be the liar so she could still be my friend. And when it came right down to it, as I was standing in the hallway waiting while my scene partner had her release, all I could think about was how all of my girl friends in high school turned on me over something really stupid and petty and how much it hurt to not have girl friends anymore. So when I walked in to do my release, I was already hurt and angry and crying and desperately needing my friend. I am kind of proud of myself that I just let the emotion happen, based on the preparation. I think that was a good thing. The preparation fueled me, but it didn't overtake me to the point where I couldn't be present in the moment. Because all I had was the moment and what was going on in front of me. So in that respect, yay! I did good work!
I don't know. I know it wasn't real. I know it was some really great work. I still feel the need to apologize to all of my girl friends for my behavior, and I want you all to know that if you find yourself in a horrible situation like that, you can come to me and I will be supportive. I'm so sorry that I even thought those things, much less said them, even just in the context of class. I'm sorry to my scene partner for being so awful to her (even though as an actor, it could be considered a gift). I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I hurt you and I'm sorry I wasn't a better friend in the scene. In real life, I am a much better friend than that. I'm sorry.
It was a scene that dealt with rape, or didn't deal with it, as the case may be. I was not the victim - my roommate and scene partner and best friend was - and my uncle was the supposed perpetrator. In the world of the scene, this uncle is pretty much the only family I have and he has always been good to me. In the world of the scene, I talked to him before I talked to her and he painted her as the bad guy and the attacker. So I was less than sympathetic when she revealed what had happened. And I think that is the part that was/is the hardest for me to deal with. I am, in real life, a nice person. A supportive person. The sort who listens and who will just hold a friend when she is sad or try to make her laugh when she's had a rough day. I am, in real life, a good person and a good friend. In the world of the scene, I was horrible. I was (and still am) mortified by some of the things I was saying to her, but in the world of the scene, they were my truths. I didn't trust her. I hated her for accusing my uncle of that. I wanted it to be her fault or a joke or a something because how am I supposed to choose between my only family and my only friend? And in the end, I lost them both.
I don't think I have cried that hard in a really long time and I was completely drained by the time it was over. I went home and made my cat hug me and curled up in bed with a teddy bear and episodes of South Park to try to get back to normal. But the scene just kept playing and replaying and replaying in my head and I kept beating myself up for all of the things I could have said or should have said and I kept looking at the moments when I could have shown more compassion, or when I wanted her to show some compassion or understanding for the absolute crap situation I was now in and how else could I have tried to make her see that and all of that stuff. And I finally fell asleep at about 12:30, but I woke up again at about 2:30 with this stuff still circling through my head and I couldn't get back to sleep. And it pisses me off! It was a scene! In class! It was all imaginary! None of it actually happened! The teacher had one note for us - she said I needed to fully realize the truth that what I had lost was my friend. I think I did, I just don't think I verbalized it very well when she told me to speak my truth. I said, "I don't want to be alone," knowing that I was. But that was the only note she had for us. Our preparation on our own was great, our preparation together was great, our moment to moment work was great, we were both present at the same time that we had all of this shit to deal with. And the rest of the class was kind of stunned by our work, too. I'm just kind of kicking myself because when it was all over, I really needed a hug but I didn't want to look like that actor who couldn't snap out of it when the scene was done so I just packed up my stuff like normal and by the time I could have asked for a hug, most of my classmates were gone. So I still need one. Badly.
I'm afraid that my classmates saw me as the villain in the scene. I'm afraid that if I make a career out of being a villain, I will have to do scenes like this over and over and over again and I won't have anyone to hug me when I walk off set. On the one hand, it would be great because I will effect people - my scene partners and my audience. On the other hand, I can see how it would get hard to take after a while.
I think the scene was also really hard for me because I based the character of my uncle on one of my real uncles, and I had a picture of him sitting on the table in our apartment. And I know this uncle. He is wonderful and smart and supportive and caring and will help his family through anything if they need it. I could see him actually taking care of me when my parents were killed, if something like that were to happen. So for her to be accusing him of that...it made it very real for me. And I can't decide if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Yes, it upped the stakes for me, so in that respect, it was probably a good thing. But it hurts to think of my uncle that way, so in that respect, maybe I should have cast a slightly more fictional uncle. I don't know if my choices to cast people close to my heart are good ones or bad ones. The answer is probably "yes."
What's really funny is as I was watching the other scenes in class (we went last), I started to feel really unprepared. I knew who I had cast as my uncle and who I had cast as my boyfriend and what life had been like for the last year with this woman as my roommate, but I honestly didn't know how to feel when I walked in the room or what I really wanted from her. Part of me wanted her to be the liar, part of me wanted her to not be the liar so she could still be my friend. And when it came right down to it, as I was standing in the hallway waiting while my scene partner had her release, all I could think about was how all of my girl friends in high school turned on me over something really stupid and petty and how much it hurt to not have girl friends anymore. So when I walked in to do my release, I was already hurt and angry and crying and desperately needing my friend. I am kind of proud of myself that I just let the emotion happen, based on the preparation. I think that was a good thing. The preparation fueled me, but it didn't overtake me to the point where I couldn't be present in the moment. Because all I had was the moment and what was going on in front of me. So in that respect, yay! I did good work!
I don't know. I know it wasn't real. I know it was some really great work. I still feel the need to apologize to all of my girl friends for my behavior, and I want you all to know that if you find yourself in a horrible situation like that, you can come to me and I will be supportive. I'm so sorry that I even thought those things, much less said them, even just in the context of class. I'm sorry to my scene partner for being so awful to her (even though as an actor, it could be considered a gift). I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I hurt you and I'm sorry I wasn't a better friend in the scene. In real life, I am a much better friend than that. I'm sorry.
09 February 2010
Catch Up
So there has been a lot going on and some of it I can talk about and some of it I can't yet, so please bear with me as I'm kind of vague.
I have gone on 14 auditions in the last two weeks. Of these fourteen auditions, I'm only holding out hope that two of them might produce something. Might. That's not an "I was cast in something!" that's an "I think I made it past the first round of auditions" kind of a thing. For anyone who watches reality television, I think I made it to episode two of a thirteen-episode season. It doesn't necessarily put me any closer to winning the million dollars, it just means I haven't gone home yet. And the sad part is, I'm thrilled that I haven't gone home yet. I could be sent home tomorrow - I don't know. But I'm still living in the house and for now, I have to take comfort in that because I really don't have anything else to go on.
What is difficult about these fourteen auditions in two weeks is that I worked really hard to get ready for them - really hard - and at least twelve of them didn't even give me a second thought. Hell, a lot of them weren't even paying attention as I was up there emoting my heart out. Granted, there are a million reasons why a casting director doesn't cast someone, many of which have nothing to do with skill or talent. Maybe they don't need any more little white girls. Maybe they'd rather have a blond. Maybe they need someone who isn't involved in other things at the moment. Maybe the chemistry between me and the lead guy isn't quite right. And sadly, all of these things are out of my control. And I know that as an actor, I have to get used to rejection. This business is largely about rejection. The one time you get hired is the anomaly in a seemingly never-ending stream of rejections. And you're supposed to build up a thick skin and not take it personally and keep your chin up and go to the next audition with a smile on your face, ready to blow them away. But it has been a long time for me. I wasn't auditioning for a while there because I was a theater company member, and then because I took some time off to be a rock star. And to take twelve rejections in two weeks, often times when the auditor wasn't even looking at me... Some of them felt like I was put into the "no" pile the second I entered the room. And I entered the room well. I put on the pretty pretty make-up so my skin glowed. I did my hair so it looked full and bouncy and vibrant. I wore the figure-flattering trousers and nice sweaters and comfy shoes that set me just a little bit apart from all of the other little white girls auditioning. And I smiled and said hi and was very personable. And before I could even open my mouth, they had already decided that I wasn't right for the part. That hurts. I'm sorry, but it hurts. I know I'm not the best audition they are going to see in a day, but I am trying really hard and I know that given the opportunity, I can light up the stage, but I don't get the opportunity. So all of that knowledge that it could be about looks or quotas or schedules or some vendetta the director has against some teacher I studied with ten years ago that is supposed to help me deal with the onslaught of "no, thank yous" does very little to get me into a show or provide me with opportunity. Which is all I really need. An opportunity.
So I start to think that maybe some of the rejections are the result of something I did or didn't do. Maybe I should have cried. Maybe I needed to show more desperation. Maybe I should have done the piece that has more movement. Maybe I should have sung a different song. Maybe I really need some vocal help and the sound of me talking for two minutes really just grated on the auditor's nerves. Maybe I came on too strong. Which leads us to...maybe all of my hard work just wasn't enough. Maybe I'm not good enough. Maybe I just don't have what they're looking for - what anyone is looking for. Maybe that's why I'm not in a relationship either - I'm holding out for some guy who makes me feel a certain way but no guy that would make me feel that way would ever feel that way for me because I just don't have what he is looking for. And I watch the lives of all of these people around me moving forward - people getting married and having kids and finding new jobs and so on and so forth - and I wonder if I am holding onto a dream I should have let go of years ago so that my life can move forward along the path it is supposed to take instead of fighting so hard to make it move down the one I want it to be on. Because it gets tiring to have to fight so hard all of the time. ALL of the time.
But I'm still in the house. I haven't been sent home yet.
And I got to go to class last night - the new session started. It sounds like it is going to be similar to the last session but moreso. I know that doesn't make sense to anyone outside of the class, but that is okay. And I did decent work. I don't know that I was completely invested in being in love with my partner, but I certainly let his actions and words affect me. And given the circumstances, even though I was supposed to be completely in love with him, I also think it was appropriate to scream at him and hate him and not want to be near him. Maybe that's what love is sometimes. It can't be all flowers and kittens all the time, right? There are going to be moments when your lover really, truly hurts you. And moments when you really, truly hurt them. I don't know. I got to some weird, scary emotional places last night (and I'm actually kind of annoyed that the scene ended when it did because I think I was about to break in half), but I think a lot of them had more to do with how I now felt about myself than how I felt about my partner. I was taking in what he was saying to me, but I don't think I was very focused on him, if that makes any sense. I kept burying my head in my hands, which, even in the moment, felt to me like an indicator that I was going into my head when I should have popped out of it and observed something about him. The teacher thought it was some good work and he liked our preparation that we were able to throw together in five minutes, so that is good. I don't know how much "constructive criticism," so to speak, to walk away from last night's class with, though, as it felt a little more like an exercise in improvisation instead of an exercise in preparation - which is what the rest of the session is going to be. I dunno.
I was talking to my classmates before class about my onslaught of rejections and they said that I know I'm a good actor so everything will be fine. I told them I don't know that. They were surprised by that statement, and then, when we went into the theater, they all sort of sat in a clump around me. I don't know if it was a conscious choice - in previous class sessions, we've all sort of had our space with a chair or two between students - but last night we all sat next to each other in a little clump with me in the middle. And for a moment, I felt wonderful and loved and supported. Even if it was accidental, these people have become my friends and they like having me around. And even if I fail miserably, even if I am sent home empty-handed in the next round of eliminations, they believe in my talent, they like to work with me, and they enjoy watching me work in class. They will still be my friends.
So I'm still in the house. And I'm not alone in here.
Thank you for that.
I have gone on 14 auditions in the last two weeks. Of these fourteen auditions, I'm only holding out hope that two of them might produce something. Might. That's not an "I was cast in something!" that's an "I think I made it past the first round of auditions" kind of a thing. For anyone who watches reality television, I think I made it to episode two of a thirteen-episode season. It doesn't necessarily put me any closer to winning the million dollars, it just means I haven't gone home yet. And the sad part is, I'm thrilled that I haven't gone home yet. I could be sent home tomorrow - I don't know. But I'm still living in the house and for now, I have to take comfort in that because I really don't have anything else to go on.
What is difficult about these fourteen auditions in two weeks is that I worked really hard to get ready for them - really hard - and at least twelve of them didn't even give me a second thought. Hell, a lot of them weren't even paying attention as I was up there emoting my heart out. Granted, there are a million reasons why a casting director doesn't cast someone, many of which have nothing to do with skill or talent. Maybe they don't need any more little white girls. Maybe they'd rather have a blond. Maybe they need someone who isn't involved in other things at the moment. Maybe the chemistry between me and the lead guy isn't quite right. And sadly, all of these things are out of my control. And I know that as an actor, I have to get used to rejection. This business is largely about rejection. The one time you get hired is the anomaly in a seemingly never-ending stream of rejections. And you're supposed to build up a thick skin and not take it personally and keep your chin up and go to the next audition with a smile on your face, ready to blow them away. But it has been a long time for me. I wasn't auditioning for a while there because I was a theater company member, and then because I took some time off to be a rock star. And to take twelve rejections in two weeks, often times when the auditor wasn't even looking at me... Some of them felt like I was put into the "no" pile the second I entered the room. And I entered the room well. I put on the pretty pretty make-up so my skin glowed. I did my hair so it looked full and bouncy and vibrant. I wore the figure-flattering trousers and nice sweaters and comfy shoes that set me just a little bit apart from all of the other little white girls auditioning. And I smiled and said hi and was very personable. And before I could even open my mouth, they had already decided that I wasn't right for the part. That hurts. I'm sorry, but it hurts. I know I'm not the best audition they are going to see in a day, but I am trying really hard and I know that given the opportunity, I can light up the stage, but I don't get the opportunity. So all of that knowledge that it could be about looks or quotas or schedules or some vendetta the director has against some teacher I studied with ten years ago that is supposed to help me deal with the onslaught of "no, thank yous" does very little to get me into a show or provide me with opportunity. Which is all I really need. An opportunity.
So I start to think that maybe some of the rejections are the result of something I did or didn't do. Maybe I should have cried. Maybe I needed to show more desperation. Maybe I should have done the piece that has more movement. Maybe I should have sung a different song. Maybe I really need some vocal help and the sound of me talking for two minutes really just grated on the auditor's nerves. Maybe I came on too strong. Which leads us to...maybe all of my hard work just wasn't enough. Maybe I'm not good enough. Maybe I just don't have what they're looking for - what anyone is looking for. Maybe that's why I'm not in a relationship either - I'm holding out for some guy who makes me feel a certain way but no guy that would make me feel that way would ever feel that way for me because I just don't have what he is looking for. And I watch the lives of all of these people around me moving forward - people getting married and having kids and finding new jobs and so on and so forth - and I wonder if I am holding onto a dream I should have let go of years ago so that my life can move forward along the path it is supposed to take instead of fighting so hard to make it move down the one I want it to be on. Because it gets tiring to have to fight so hard all of the time. ALL of the time.
But I'm still in the house. I haven't been sent home yet.
And I got to go to class last night - the new session started. It sounds like it is going to be similar to the last session but moreso. I know that doesn't make sense to anyone outside of the class, but that is okay. And I did decent work. I don't know that I was completely invested in being in love with my partner, but I certainly let his actions and words affect me. And given the circumstances, even though I was supposed to be completely in love with him, I also think it was appropriate to scream at him and hate him and not want to be near him. Maybe that's what love is sometimes. It can't be all flowers and kittens all the time, right? There are going to be moments when your lover really, truly hurts you. And moments when you really, truly hurt them. I don't know. I got to some weird, scary emotional places last night (and I'm actually kind of annoyed that the scene ended when it did because I think I was about to break in half), but I think a lot of them had more to do with how I now felt about myself than how I felt about my partner. I was taking in what he was saying to me, but I don't think I was very focused on him, if that makes any sense. I kept burying my head in my hands, which, even in the moment, felt to me like an indicator that I was going into my head when I should have popped out of it and observed something about him. The teacher thought it was some good work and he liked our preparation that we were able to throw together in five minutes, so that is good. I don't know how much "constructive criticism," so to speak, to walk away from last night's class with, though, as it felt a little more like an exercise in improvisation instead of an exercise in preparation - which is what the rest of the session is going to be. I dunno.
I was talking to my classmates before class about my onslaught of rejections and they said that I know I'm a good actor so everything will be fine. I told them I don't know that. They were surprised by that statement, and then, when we went into the theater, they all sort of sat in a clump around me. I don't know if it was a conscious choice - in previous class sessions, we've all sort of had our space with a chair or two between students - but last night we all sat next to each other in a little clump with me in the middle. And for a moment, I felt wonderful and loved and supported. Even if it was accidental, these people have become my friends and they like having me around. And even if I fail miserably, even if I am sent home empty-handed in the next round of eliminations, they believe in my talent, they like to work with me, and they enjoy watching me work in class. They will still be my friends.
So I'm still in the house. And I'm not alone in here.
Thank you for that.
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