Thank you, Beatles, for letting me borrow your song title for my blog title. Please don't sue me. I use it with the greatest respect and admiration.
Anyway.
I found myself yesterday thinking once again on the question of "Who is the best Doctor," which brings me back to my issues with the current run of Doctor Who. Don't get me wrong, I still love the show. I just have...issues. I'm not sure with whom I have the greatest issues - they are probably a combination of things - but they are there and I have tried and tried and tried to get over them, but they're still there. And one of them has to do with love.
I feel like the current run is missing love.
Now, before you jump down my throat, let me say that I am not specifically looking for a romantic relationship on the show. They've done that. There are many many kinds of love and I would like to see at least one be well represented but I'm not seeing that and my super crazy train of thought brought me around to this statement:
Actors need to be able to love.
I think in large part, who or what we love and how we love those things define us as people. Love of self, love of others, love of power, love of money. These are very strong motivators. The woman who can lift a car off of her child who is trapped below knows the power of love for others. Industry tycoons know love of power and money. These loves shape what we do, how we interact with others, what we want, and how we go about getting what we want. I think they are an essential part of the human experience.
Loving something strongly is a frightening business, though, because that love can overpower all other desires and can make us do (or want to do) seemingly unreasonable, potentially harmful things. If that love is ever taken away, too, the potential for pain is immense. But as actors, I think we can't let those fears get in our way. People (for the most part) write plays about "the day something happened that was different from every other day," and those happenings usually mess with someone's love. As actors, we need to love that thing to begin with so it's particularly upsetting when that love is messed with.
I think every actor needs to approach every project by asking at least once in the rehearsal process, "What does this character love?" The stronger that answer, the stronger the performance will be. If a character and/or actor truly loves something, the audience will be able to relate because they likely really love something, too. If the actor is afraid or doesn't know how to fully invest himself in loving that thing while on stage, the audience will be able to see it. I think these are what we call "unbelievable" performances. "I just didn't buy him as a killer." Because the actor didn't fully invest in whatever sort of sick pleasure that character gets out of killing.
Side note: As in the case above of someone playing a serial killer, I'm not saying the actor has to then love killing. He or she does, however, need to figure out why the character loves killing and explore that. Then he or she needs to turn that off when he or she goes home so he or she can continue to lead a normal, non-serial killer lifestyle.
Actors need to be able to love.
The theater is a safe space to get your heart broken and have your emotional guts ripped out. If you are going to love something with abandon, the theater is the place to do it. So do it. Make the choice to love something for the sake of your character and the sake of your performance. You'll be so glad you did.
30 March 2012
21 March 2012
I. Love. Theater.
I have spent the past two evenings chatting about plays with other actors and playwrights and directors and I have to say, I love theater.
I love theater.
I.
Love.
Theater.
I love theater because it is a collaborative art.
Which may seem a bit odd in light of how much I love Susan Cain's TED speech and how excited I am to read her new book. She talks about how essential "alone" time is for the introvert and the artist and the creative process and as an introverted artist, I am almost brought to tears that someone finally vocalized that thought. It is such a huge relief to know that the time I spend in my own head working on a character (or blog post or video or song or whatever) is a good thing and that it's okay for me to do that.
But I love theater because it is a collaborative art.
I spent the past two evenings surrounded by other artists who had done their homework and came to the table with thoughts and ideas and questions and we all talked about those things in a safe, open setting, all for the purpose of creating even greater art down the line. We all had a common goal. We may have had different ideas or opinions, but every opinion was heard and welcomed and considered. Every voice appreciated. Plus, there was a lot of laughter and connection that came out of each evening, too.
I guess my thing about being an introvert is this - people make me tired. Most of the time. I like doing things by myself. But every now and again, I do need that little bit of external stimulus to wake me up or give me a little nudge or something to get my own creative juices flowing again. And then I need to go off and explore those creative impulses on my own so I can present them to others in appropriate manner, but that little bit of a spark or a jump start or a whatever is a good thing every now and again. I love it that I get that in theater, when you bring the actors, the director, the playwright, the producers, the designers, the dramaturg, the stage managers all together into one room and everyone wants to make the absolute best end product possible and it's brilliant when everyone can put their egos on a shelf for an evening and you all just...collaborate. You work together. Because in theater, the sum is so much greater than any of the parts.
I love theater. I love that I get to be involved in this type of creative process that so beautifully blends solo and group work. I feel so humbled and grateful when I get to be in a room like the one I was in last night or the night before, full of intelligent people who can express themselves and who are willing to listen to others. How on earth did I get so lucky?
I.
Love.
Theater.
I love theater.
I.
Love.
Theater.
I love theater because it is a collaborative art.
Which may seem a bit odd in light of how much I love Susan Cain's TED speech and how excited I am to read her new book. She talks about how essential "alone" time is for the introvert and the artist and the creative process and as an introverted artist, I am almost brought to tears that someone finally vocalized that thought. It is such a huge relief to know that the time I spend in my own head working on a character (or blog post or video or song or whatever) is a good thing and that it's okay for me to do that.
But I love theater because it is a collaborative art.
I spent the past two evenings surrounded by other artists who had done their homework and came to the table with thoughts and ideas and questions and we all talked about those things in a safe, open setting, all for the purpose of creating even greater art down the line. We all had a common goal. We may have had different ideas or opinions, but every opinion was heard and welcomed and considered. Every voice appreciated. Plus, there was a lot of laughter and connection that came out of each evening, too.
I guess my thing about being an introvert is this - people make me tired. Most of the time. I like doing things by myself. But every now and again, I do need that little bit of external stimulus to wake me up or give me a little nudge or something to get my own creative juices flowing again. And then I need to go off and explore those creative impulses on my own so I can present them to others in appropriate manner, but that little bit of a spark or a jump start or a whatever is a good thing every now and again. I love it that I get that in theater, when you bring the actors, the director, the playwright, the producers, the designers, the dramaturg, the stage managers all together into one room and everyone wants to make the absolute best end product possible and it's brilliant when everyone can put their egos on a shelf for an evening and you all just...collaborate. You work together. Because in theater, the sum is so much greater than any of the parts.
I love theater. I love that I get to be involved in this type of creative process that so beautifully blends solo and group work. I feel so humbled and grateful when I get to be in a room like the one I was in last night or the night before, full of intelligent people who can express themselves and who are willing to listen to others. How on earth did I get so lucky?
I.
Love.
Theater.
06 March 2012
Conquering the Audition
Thrice in my life, I have been fortunate enough to sit on the other side of the table during auditions - twice as a director and last night as a reader. I would recommend to any actor, do this if you can. Get on the other side of the table, even just once, for the sake of your own auditioning skills. It's an eye opener.
My grandfather was a photographer (in addition to other things), and for many years, he would enter his photographs into various contests. Then one year, he was asked to judge a contest. In that position, he was able to see what the judges were looking for, so when he went back out to take his own photos, he had some tips to keep in mind on how to improve them. I know, I know, it sounds like cheating, but how is this any worse than taking a class or meeting with someone for tutoring or coaching or reading articles online? This gave him first-hand experience and first-hand insight on how to take a good photograph.
Sitting on the other side of the table last night gave me another opportunity to get first-hand insight into what makes a good audition. And I had a bit of an epiphany.
Auditions are mini-performances for which we have yet to receive direction.
There are three basic types of auditions that I have encountered thus far, and I would like to think that this theory holds true in all three types.
Auditions are mini-performances for which we have yet to receive direction.
We've all done scenes in classes that were basically self-directed. The teacher assigns you a partner and assigns you a scene and you go work with your partner on that scene and come back and show it to the class and the teacher makes some comments on it, yes? This is how we should be looking at auditions. Everything that you would put into any other performance, you should put into your audition piece. And I think this works for all three types of auditions, too.
A lot of very talented actors came in to the auditions last night and I hate to say it, but it was obvious who had done their homework and who hadn't. There were those who had intention and energy, and there were those who didn't realize that this next sentence starts a new thought. There was one person who came in with a lot of intention and a lot of choices, some of which I would have considered inappropriate for the character, but he went with it and the director was intrigued by him. They're not necessarily looking for people who could open the show tomorrow - why would you need a director then? They're looking for people who are alive on stage. People who make choices and take chances and do their homework.
I have taken classes focusing on auditions before. I have worked with coaches to get my pieces just right. I have read all kinds of things online about what to do and what not to do in an audition setting - walk in and make the space yours, don't turn your back to get into character, be yourself from the moment you walk in the door until the moment you leave, pick a piece that suits you, etc. etc. etc. And all of these things have treated auditions like they are some foreign concept that needs to be treated completely different than anything else you will do as a performer. To an extent, I feel like that education has done me a disservice. I think we should walk in there like we already have the part. We should prepare like we already have the part. Be it a monologue, a cold read, or prepared sides, we should walk in there as actors demonstrating the best of our craft, so we should prepare as if we already have the part.
I know, that sounds like a lot of work. Theater is a lot of work, though, and as far as I am concerned, it is some of the best work one can get. Why do we do this if we don't love it? If we love it, don't we want to do more of it? If we love it, why should we shy away from an opportunity to practice? Because it will be disappointing if we're not cast? Any day in which I get to participate in the theatrical process is a good day. And that means if I get to walk into a room full of strangers and perform for two minutes, I'm going to milk that two minutes for everything it's worth.
Auditions are mini-performances for which we have yet to receive direction.
Enjoy them!
My grandfather was a photographer (in addition to other things), and for many years, he would enter his photographs into various contests. Then one year, he was asked to judge a contest. In that position, he was able to see what the judges were looking for, so when he went back out to take his own photos, he had some tips to keep in mind on how to improve them. I know, I know, it sounds like cheating, but how is this any worse than taking a class or meeting with someone for tutoring or coaching or reading articles online? This gave him first-hand experience and first-hand insight on how to take a good photograph.
Sitting on the other side of the table last night gave me another opportunity to get first-hand insight into what makes a good audition. And I had a bit of an epiphany.
Auditions are mini-performances for which we have yet to receive direction.
There are three basic types of auditions that I have encountered thus far, and I would like to think that this theory holds true in all three types.
- First, there is the monologue audition - you prepare a piece beforehand, maybe work with a coach on it, maybe just walk down the street saying it over and over again until it feels natural to you, and then you pull that puppy out whenever an audition asks you to have a prepared piece 1-2 minutes in length. You probably have an assortment of monologues in your back pocket, so to speak, to fit various occasions - classical vs. contemporary, dramatic vs. comedic, etc. Personally, this is my least favorite type of audition.
- Second, there is the "cold read." I'm not quite sure why auditors like this one (other than it gives them the maximum amount of time to determine what they would like to see). You show up to the theater at your given time, they give you 1-7 pages of script, tell you which part to read, and a few minutes later, you go in and read that part either with someone sitting behind the table or some other random actor scheduled in the same audition time slot as you. This does have the advantage of having actors read something from the script, so directors can see if the actor is even remotely appropriate for one of the characters, but it allows the actor very little preparation time and the random pairings can prove challenging to sit through.
- Third, there are those lovely, lovely auditions where they send you "sides" beforehand. Usually, you know what play you are auditioning for, so you can read the script, study the sides, and go in to show that you are the best person in the world (or this city) for this part. I love when these auditions happen. I'm not saying I'm an expert at them (I'm not an expert at auditioning by any stretch of the imagination), but it seems to me that these are the most useful for everyone involved. The director gets to see your take on the character and you can show them what you've got.
Auditions are mini-performances for which we have yet to receive direction.
We've all done scenes in classes that were basically self-directed. The teacher assigns you a partner and assigns you a scene and you go work with your partner on that scene and come back and show it to the class and the teacher makes some comments on it, yes? This is how we should be looking at auditions. Everything that you would put into any other performance, you should put into your audition piece. And I think this works for all three types of auditions, too.
- With a monologue audition, you pick your piece, you do your homework, you make your choices, you know your intentions. Yes, it is a little weird to have to deliver the monologue to some random spot on the back wall above the auditor's head, but that happens in performance, too. Hamlet has a whole boatload of soliloquies that he has to deliver while on stage alone. Who is he talking to? What is he trying to accomplish? How do the words and intentions make him move while he is speaking? Monolgues to nobody in particular happen on stage all of the time. Monologues to someone are even better, and if you choose to do one of those in an audition, you just have to pretend there is someone else there. But basically, doing a monologue for an audition is a mini-performance and should be prepared thusly.
- With a "cold reading," you are given a piece and a scene partner (sometimes) and a few minutes to look over the script. USE THAT TIME TO DO YOUR HOMEWORK. True, you've probably not had a chance to read the whole play, but the bit they've given you is usually enough that you can make some choices about who this person is and what they want in the scene. If nothing else, use that time to determine what your character wants in the scene. It's a compressed preparation time, but trust me, if you go in and put on a performance with choices and intentions and wants (as opposed to just reading lines off of a piece of paper), you'll blow the competition away.
- When you have "sides," you can do all of your homework just like you would if you were performing the play it it's entirety. Read the play. Look up things or words that don't make sense to you. Figure out what your character wants in the scene you'll be reading. Make some choices. Go in there with something. SOMETHING. Put on a performance that you treat with as much respect as a full length play.
A lot of very talented actors came in to the auditions last night and I hate to say it, but it was obvious who had done their homework and who hadn't. There were those who had intention and energy, and there were those who didn't realize that this next sentence starts a new thought. There was one person who came in with a lot of intention and a lot of choices, some of which I would have considered inappropriate for the character, but he went with it and the director was intrigued by him. They're not necessarily looking for people who could open the show tomorrow - why would you need a director then? They're looking for people who are alive on stage. People who make choices and take chances and do their homework.
I have taken classes focusing on auditions before. I have worked with coaches to get my pieces just right. I have read all kinds of things online about what to do and what not to do in an audition setting - walk in and make the space yours, don't turn your back to get into character, be yourself from the moment you walk in the door until the moment you leave, pick a piece that suits you, etc. etc. etc. And all of these things have treated auditions like they are some foreign concept that needs to be treated completely different than anything else you will do as a performer. To an extent, I feel like that education has done me a disservice. I think we should walk in there like we already have the part. We should prepare like we already have the part. Be it a monologue, a cold read, or prepared sides, we should walk in there as actors demonstrating the best of our craft, so we should prepare as if we already have the part.
I know, that sounds like a lot of work. Theater is a lot of work, though, and as far as I am concerned, it is some of the best work one can get. Why do we do this if we don't love it? If we love it, don't we want to do more of it? If we love it, why should we shy away from an opportunity to practice? Because it will be disappointing if we're not cast? Any day in which I get to participate in the theatrical process is a good day. And that means if I get to walk into a room full of strangers and perform for two minutes, I'm going to milk that two minutes for everything it's worth.
Auditions are mini-performances for which we have yet to receive direction.
Enjoy them!
30 January 2012
Fearless
Bold.
Brave.
Fearless.
Ballsy.
A force to be reckoned with.
These are all ways in which my most recent performances were described. I played two characters in two different short plays as part of an evening of one-acts, and I was called bold, brave, fearless, ballsy, and a force to be reckoned with by my directors, by the writers, by my fellow performers, and by audience members - both people I knew and people I didn't. And while I love that these huge, beautiful words were used to describe my performance, I have no idea how to take them. I'm humbled by them. As far as I'm concerned, I was just doing my job.
I've been called fearless before. A fellow student of mine from my college years wrote several years after we graduated that he remembered me as fearless. And then in response to these characters I just played, I was called fearless by so many people. It strikes me as a bit odd because there are a lot of things I am afraid of. I'm afraid I'll never have kids. I'm afraid of singing a capella in front of people. Sometimes I have panic attacks and am afraid to leave the safety of my living space. I'm afraid that my cat isn't getting everything he should out of life and that it's my fault. I'm afraid I'll never be anything more than what I am right now.
But when it comes to performance, I don't think that getting up on stage wearing short-shorts and a red sequined halter top qualifies as me being fearless. I appreciate that others see it that way, but to me, fear doesn't factor in there. This was the case of being offered a character who had the potential to be amazing - she only has three pages of script, but volumes and volumes of character to create - and me accepting that challenge. As part of that challenge, I would have to be scantily clad on stage in front of 50 people a night. That wasn't really the hard part. The hard part was going out there in the other piece as a woman who felt totally justified in killing her husband, yet making her a sympathetic character so hopefully the audience walks away thinking she was justified, too. Or at least not wanting to condemn her. The hard part is going out on stage as a woman who knows the only good thing she ever did in her life was create a child who can create beauty, yet who still has to show her face in public. But as actors, aren't those exactly the kinds of challenges we seek out? Don't we all salivate at the thought of getting to play a sympathetic killer or a person who has been completely broken but has to live on day to day anyway? Don't we, as performers, live for that release that happens on stage when all of the bad stuff gets to come gushing out? Don't we live for being completely emotionally exposed and raw and in the moment on stage?
Maybe that's what people mean when they say I'm fearless. That I love those challenges. That I live for those challenges. That I throw myself upon those challenges with everything I've got and whatever production values come with the opportunity to be that emotionally present. If that's what they mean, I will take that word and wear it with pride. Because it does take a lot to expose oneself like that in front of a room full of people, no matter what you're wearing. And I am so blessed when I have that opportunity to try, that I'm going to embrace that opportunity whenever it comes knocking at my door.
Thank you for knocking at my door, Opportunity.
Brave.
Fearless.
Ballsy.
A force to be reckoned with.
These are all ways in which my most recent performances were described. I played two characters in two different short plays as part of an evening of one-acts, and I was called bold, brave, fearless, ballsy, and a force to be reckoned with by my directors, by the writers, by my fellow performers, and by audience members - both people I knew and people I didn't. And while I love that these huge, beautiful words were used to describe my performance, I have no idea how to take them. I'm humbled by them. As far as I'm concerned, I was just doing my job.
I've been called fearless before. A fellow student of mine from my college years wrote several years after we graduated that he remembered me as fearless. And then in response to these characters I just played, I was called fearless by so many people. It strikes me as a bit odd because there are a lot of things I am afraid of. I'm afraid I'll never have kids. I'm afraid of singing a capella in front of people. Sometimes I have panic attacks and am afraid to leave the safety of my living space. I'm afraid that my cat isn't getting everything he should out of life and that it's my fault. I'm afraid I'll never be anything more than what I am right now.
But when it comes to performance, I don't think that getting up on stage wearing short-shorts and a red sequined halter top qualifies as me being fearless. I appreciate that others see it that way, but to me, fear doesn't factor in there. This was the case of being offered a character who had the potential to be amazing - she only has three pages of script, but volumes and volumes of character to create - and me accepting that challenge. As part of that challenge, I would have to be scantily clad on stage in front of 50 people a night. That wasn't really the hard part. The hard part was going out there in the other piece as a woman who felt totally justified in killing her husband, yet making her a sympathetic character so hopefully the audience walks away thinking she was justified, too. Or at least not wanting to condemn her. The hard part is going out on stage as a woman who knows the only good thing she ever did in her life was create a child who can create beauty, yet who still has to show her face in public. But as actors, aren't those exactly the kinds of challenges we seek out? Don't we all salivate at the thought of getting to play a sympathetic killer or a person who has been completely broken but has to live on day to day anyway? Don't we, as performers, live for that release that happens on stage when all of the bad stuff gets to come gushing out? Don't we live for being completely emotionally exposed and raw and in the moment on stage?
Maybe that's what people mean when they say I'm fearless. That I love those challenges. That I live for those challenges. That I throw myself upon those challenges with everything I've got and whatever production values come with the opportunity to be that emotionally present. If that's what they mean, I will take that word and wear it with pride. Because it does take a lot to expose oneself like that in front of a room full of people, no matter what you're wearing. And I am so blessed when I have that opportunity to try, that I'm going to embrace that opportunity whenever it comes knocking at my door.
Thank you for knocking at my door, Opportunity.
14 July 2011
Imperfections
I think in a weird way, as actors, we spend the entire rehearsal process trying to get everything right and then the entire run of the show cataloging all of the things that went wrong. We mark the time and remember the performances by whatever sort of catastrophe happened on any given night. Perhaps because they help us identify one performance from the next, perhaps out of some sort of disappointment that for all of our rehearsal work it still didn't turn out right, or perhaps because sometimes its just plain funny when things happen in the middle of a show.
I think I've mentioned here before that I'm in a production of Hamlet at the moment. We are only four performances in, but already, there was Opening Night, The Show Wherein Hamlet Died With His Hand On My Boob, The Show Wherein The Sword Hit Me In The Head And Landed In My Hand, and The Show With Sound Issues Wherein I Had Only Once Scene In Which I Did Not Mess Up A Line. I've also managed to get make-up on the costumes of at least two of my cast mates, I got my foot stepped on, the main exit door keeps sticking for people which makes furious exits kind of comical, and the skull was tossed and dropped one night which made people chuckle.
The thing that strikes me is that the audience seldom notices this stuff. I had seven friends in the audience the night the sword hit me in the head and landed in my hand, and not one of them noticed. Which I guess is a good thing because I'm dead at that point and shouldn't be pulling focus so if they are staring at the sword in a dead lady's hand instead of the rest of the action in front of them, we're all doing something wrong. But it is that kind of stuff that I kind of like talking about after a show. I like the silly backstage stories about how I got a SEVERE case of the giggles last night before scene 2.2 and was afraid I wouldn't be able to look Guildenstern in the eye on stage. Or the little dance that Rosencrantz does every night before 3.1. Or the moment of panic that happened at the top of the show when every single sound cue from the entire show started playing all at the same time and we're all in the bathroom trying to figure out how to start the show without the one sound cue that is supposed to be there. And if we're lucky, the audience will never know about these little things. But they are, to me, what makes live theater so much fun. They are what bring us together as cast mates. No, we're not facing dangerous crises like, say, soldiers in the Middle East are, but we run into obstacles all of the time that we have to figure out how to get past. And we do. And the audience applauds. And we get to feel good knowing that we conquered the giggles or the tech problems or the missed entrances or the people stomping around upstairs or the people in the second row chatting away through the whole performance and put up a good show anyway.
Though I'll admit, last night did not feel like a good show for me. I messed with my routine. My routine is never the same for two different shows, but within the framework of one show, I do get a little set in what I do. What can I say? I'm a creature of habit. But last night, I walked to the theater instead of taking the bus because it was gorgeous outside and I hate the bus. I did my warm-ups downstairs instead of upstairs. And I honestly felt a little not-ready when the stage manager called places instead of telling us we would be holding five minutes for the house. And then the weird sound cue at the top of the show...I just felt off of my game. Which means tonight, I'll go back to my regular routine and hopefully, all will be well. And I'll be totally ready to be stepped on or kicked or hit with a sword or for my flashlight to not work or my prop to be in the wrong place or to fall out of my chair or something.
I love live theater.
I think I've mentioned here before that I'm in a production of Hamlet at the moment. We are only four performances in, but already, there was Opening Night, The Show Wherein Hamlet Died With His Hand On My Boob, The Show Wherein The Sword Hit Me In The Head And Landed In My Hand, and The Show With Sound Issues Wherein I Had Only Once Scene In Which I Did Not Mess Up A Line. I've also managed to get make-up on the costumes of at least two of my cast mates, I got my foot stepped on, the main exit door keeps sticking for people which makes furious exits kind of comical, and the skull was tossed and dropped one night which made people chuckle.
The thing that strikes me is that the audience seldom notices this stuff. I had seven friends in the audience the night the sword hit me in the head and landed in my hand, and not one of them noticed. Which I guess is a good thing because I'm dead at that point and shouldn't be pulling focus so if they are staring at the sword in a dead lady's hand instead of the rest of the action in front of them, we're all doing something wrong. But it is that kind of stuff that I kind of like talking about after a show. I like the silly backstage stories about how I got a SEVERE case of the giggles last night before scene 2.2 and was afraid I wouldn't be able to look Guildenstern in the eye on stage. Or the little dance that Rosencrantz does every night before 3.1. Or the moment of panic that happened at the top of the show when every single sound cue from the entire show started playing all at the same time and we're all in the bathroom trying to figure out how to start the show without the one sound cue that is supposed to be there. And if we're lucky, the audience will never know about these little things. But they are, to me, what makes live theater so much fun. They are what bring us together as cast mates. No, we're not facing dangerous crises like, say, soldiers in the Middle East are, but we run into obstacles all of the time that we have to figure out how to get past. And we do. And the audience applauds. And we get to feel good knowing that we conquered the giggles or the tech problems or the missed entrances or the people stomping around upstairs or the people in the second row chatting away through the whole performance and put up a good show anyway.
Though I'll admit, last night did not feel like a good show for me. I messed with my routine. My routine is never the same for two different shows, but within the framework of one show, I do get a little set in what I do. What can I say? I'm a creature of habit. But last night, I walked to the theater instead of taking the bus because it was gorgeous outside and I hate the bus. I did my warm-ups downstairs instead of upstairs. And I honestly felt a little not-ready when the stage manager called places instead of telling us we would be holding five minutes for the house. And then the weird sound cue at the top of the show...I just felt off of my game. Which means tonight, I'll go back to my regular routine and hopefully, all will be well. And I'll be totally ready to be stepped on or kicked or hit with a sword or for my flashlight to not work or my prop to be in the wrong place or to fall out of my chair or something.
I love live theater.
09 June 2011
Ah, the Roles We Play
It's funny how much responsibility we give to actors, given that they are supposed to just show up somewhere and do their job. Yes, as actors we have to be prepared to do that job, but ultimately, we have to report to someone else and fulfill that person's vision. That person is called the director. Or the producer. Or both. Thing is, I can do all of the homework in the world, I can show up with a million ideas, but if the director doesn't like any of them, I have to chuck them and go with what is best for this specific production. As actors, we have to be okay with that. As an actor, I am.
What I am not okay with is when my fellow actors in a production start telling me I've made the wrong choices. Beyond the fact that the first thing that they teach you in acting class is to not direct your fellow actors, as my scene partner, you are looking at the scene from a completely different direction than I am. Your character wants different things than mine. Your character has different experiences than mine. Your character's brain works differently than mine. This is why you were cast as that person and I was cast as this one. By the director. Or producer. Or both. Which is why when one of my fellow actors says something to me like, "I think you should do this," or "Wouldn't it be a better choice to try this?" what I hear is, "I don't want to have to work any harder to get what I want, so you need to change what you're doing."
Now, I understand that in every day life and every day relationships, people may say things like that to one another. "Honey, I think you should take out the garbage because I did last time." "You shouldn't drink so much." "Wouldn't it make more sense to put your pants on before you put your shoes on?" Okay, fine. Some of those are helpful suggestions. But depending on who these things are being said to, they can be offensive, belittling or condescending. If I'm changing my pants and the legs are wide enough that my shoes fit through them, it's actually a waste of time to take my shoes off and have to put them back on again. You don't know me. You don't know my pants. So just back off! Is how one could take that.
Same thing with acting. You've been focusing on your character; I've been focusing on mine. I know you want one thing to happen by the end of this scene, but I probably want something else. If we were both in agreement through the whole scene, it wouldn't be dramatic and nobody would write a play about it. If you don't give me what I want, I'm not necessarily going to give you what you want (depending on the script). If you're not getting what you want, you can change your tactics to try to get it. Or you can tell me I should just cave, which is, to me, the lazier choice. If the director thinks I should give in more, let the director walk me through that so it feels like I'm getting there on my own. I'll take it a lot better, it will feel more organic, it will feel mine as opposed to feeling forced. I know I can be the quiet type, but that doesn't mean I'm not considering things and thinking about things and processing what happens in each moment. It is your job as my scene partner to effect me and be affected by me. It is my job as your scene partner to effect you and be affected by you. If you are not affecting me in the way you want to be, I don't think it is fair that I should have to change my reaction without you changing your tactics. So please don't ask me to. Leave that part to the director. It is his vision we're putting up here, and if he doesn't like it, he'll say something. You don't need to.
End rant.
What I am not okay with is when my fellow actors in a production start telling me I've made the wrong choices. Beyond the fact that the first thing that they teach you in acting class is to not direct your fellow actors, as my scene partner, you are looking at the scene from a completely different direction than I am. Your character wants different things than mine. Your character has different experiences than mine. Your character's brain works differently than mine. This is why you were cast as that person and I was cast as this one. By the director. Or producer. Or both. Which is why when one of my fellow actors says something to me like, "I think you should do this," or "Wouldn't it be a better choice to try this?" what I hear is, "I don't want to have to work any harder to get what I want, so you need to change what you're doing."
Now, I understand that in every day life and every day relationships, people may say things like that to one another. "Honey, I think you should take out the garbage because I did last time." "You shouldn't drink so much." "Wouldn't it make more sense to put your pants on before you put your shoes on?" Okay, fine. Some of those are helpful suggestions. But depending on who these things are being said to, they can be offensive, belittling or condescending. If I'm changing my pants and the legs are wide enough that my shoes fit through them, it's actually a waste of time to take my shoes off and have to put them back on again. You don't know me. You don't know my pants. So just back off! Is how one could take that.
Same thing with acting. You've been focusing on your character; I've been focusing on mine. I know you want one thing to happen by the end of this scene, but I probably want something else. If we were both in agreement through the whole scene, it wouldn't be dramatic and nobody would write a play about it. If you don't give me what I want, I'm not necessarily going to give you what you want (depending on the script). If you're not getting what you want, you can change your tactics to try to get it. Or you can tell me I should just cave, which is, to me, the lazier choice. If the director thinks I should give in more, let the director walk me through that so it feels like I'm getting there on my own. I'll take it a lot better, it will feel more organic, it will feel mine as opposed to feeling forced. I know I can be the quiet type, but that doesn't mean I'm not considering things and thinking about things and processing what happens in each moment. It is your job as my scene partner to effect me and be affected by me. It is my job as your scene partner to effect you and be affected by you. If you are not affecting me in the way you want to be, I don't think it is fair that I should have to change my reaction without you changing your tactics. So please don't ask me to. Leave that part to the director. It is his vision we're putting up here, and if he doesn't like it, he'll say something. You don't need to.
End rant.
05 April 2011
Can play...
Being an actor is weird. It's just weird. It forces you to think way too much about the stupidest little things about yourself.
I know you've all heard the stories about some 30-year old being cast as a high-schooler in something like the original "Beverly Hills, 90210." Stuff like that happens because while one might think, "They need a bunch of high school kids, so they should cast high school kids," sometimes the high school age kids who come in to audition can't act their way out of a paper bag or just aren't pretty enough to fit the aesthetic of the piece. So they look at slightly older actors who have the experience and maturity to handle the scripts, but who also still look young and pretty.
In Hollywood, young and pretty is essential. Or at the very least, it makes you marketable as an actor.
This sort of thing manifests in what actors/directors/agents refer to as an "age range." As in, you may be 36, but you could pass for anything from 23-45, largely depending on wardrobe, hair and make up.
I, however, find myself in a rather odd position. Physically, I am young and pretty. No, I don't have the lollipop figure that is so prized in Hollywood these days, but I have nice skin and giant eyes that don't have crow's feet or huge bags under them and healthy hair and all of that. My age range would probably be mid-twenties to mid-thirties. At least that's what I think I look like. I know a lot of people are shocked to find out I passed thirty already. A while ago.
But in the last three or four classes I have taken, my teachers have selected pieces for me to work on where my characters are in their forties or fifties. The play I'm currently in, my character is fifty-five. And last night, I was asked to read for Gertrude in "Hamlet," who I have always pictured as someone in her forties or fifties.
I don't look forty or fifty.
I'm not afraid to look forty or fifty. There is a part of me that is kind of anxious to get wrinkles and have my hair turn silver because I think I will make a gorgeous little old lady. But I'm not there yet. And I know why I'm being asked to read/perform these parts - I am a mature person who comes across as the sort who "has it together," and most 20-something type characters aren't very "put together." Directors are trying to match me with characters who fit me mentally and spiritually. And those characters are twenty years older than I actually am.
In a way, I guess I should be flattered that they think I can handle those kinds of roles. But there is a weird sort of mourning period that an actor goes through when she realizes her chance to play Ophelia or Juliet has passed and she will only ever be considered Gertrude or Lady Capulet. Granted, Lady Mac is awesome. And the character I'm playing now is awesome. And there are a lot of great roles for more mature women out there that I can look forward to playing for the rest of my life. But in a way, it makes me a little bit sad - I have the rest of my life to play Gertrude; if I'm ever going to be Ophelia, it has to be now.
And I have to wonder if it's worth it to take care of my skin and hair and all of that, to try to maintain a youthful appearance, if it's only going to confuse directors. I think a lot of them get my headshot and think, "She's cute, she could be our [insert romantic lead here]," but then when I walk in with confidence and whatever they think, "Oh, no, she's actually closer to the fading starlet, but she doesn't look old enough for it, so do we want to use her or go with someone more age appropriate?" Or something. I don't know. I've not talked to any of these directors about it, but I'm guessing it's confusing to get an actor who looks one way and performs another. So maybe I should just let myself go so I start to look older than I am, or maybe I should start acting more insecure so I can get the younger roles while I still look young enough to play them.
Or maybe I should just shut my big fat mouth and be grateful that I'm being considered for roles at all. Especially the challenging ones.
I know you've all heard the stories about some 30-year old being cast as a high-schooler in something like the original "Beverly Hills, 90210." Stuff like that happens because while one might think, "They need a bunch of high school kids, so they should cast high school kids," sometimes the high school age kids who come in to audition can't act their way out of a paper bag or just aren't pretty enough to fit the aesthetic of the piece. So they look at slightly older actors who have the experience and maturity to handle the scripts, but who also still look young and pretty.
In Hollywood, young and pretty is essential. Or at the very least, it makes you marketable as an actor.
This sort of thing manifests in what actors/directors/agents refer to as an "age range." As in, you may be 36, but you could pass for anything from 23-45, largely depending on wardrobe, hair and make up.
I, however, find myself in a rather odd position. Physically, I am young and pretty. No, I don't have the lollipop figure that is so prized in Hollywood these days, but I have nice skin and giant eyes that don't have crow's feet or huge bags under them and healthy hair and all of that. My age range would probably be mid-twenties to mid-thirties. At least that's what I think I look like. I know a lot of people are shocked to find out I passed thirty already. A while ago.
But in the last three or four classes I have taken, my teachers have selected pieces for me to work on where my characters are in their forties or fifties. The play I'm currently in, my character is fifty-five. And last night, I was asked to read for Gertrude in "Hamlet," who I have always pictured as someone in her forties or fifties.
I don't look forty or fifty.
I'm not afraid to look forty or fifty. There is a part of me that is kind of anxious to get wrinkles and have my hair turn silver because I think I will make a gorgeous little old lady. But I'm not there yet. And I know why I'm being asked to read/perform these parts - I am a mature person who comes across as the sort who "has it together," and most 20-something type characters aren't very "put together." Directors are trying to match me with characters who fit me mentally and spiritually. And those characters are twenty years older than I actually am.
In a way, I guess I should be flattered that they think I can handle those kinds of roles. But there is a weird sort of mourning period that an actor goes through when she realizes her chance to play Ophelia or Juliet has passed and she will only ever be considered Gertrude or Lady Capulet. Granted, Lady Mac is awesome. And the character I'm playing now is awesome. And there are a lot of great roles for more mature women out there that I can look forward to playing for the rest of my life. But in a way, it makes me a little bit sad - I have the rest of my life to play Gertrude; if I'm ever going to be Ophelia, it has to be now.
And I have to wonder if it's worth it to take care of my skin and hair and all of that, to try to maintain a youthful appearance, if it's only going to confuse directors. I think a lot of them get my headshot and think, "She's cute, she could be our [insert romantic lead here]," but then when I walk in with confidence and whatever they think, "Oh, no, she's actually closer to the fading starlet, but she doesn't look old enough for it, so do we want to use her or go with someone more age appropriate?" Or something. I don't know. I've not talked to any of these directors about it, but I'm guessing it's confusing to get an actor who looks one way and performs another. So maybe I should just let myself go so I start to look older than I am, or maybe I should start acting more insecure so I can get the younger roles while I still look young enough to play them.
Or maybe I should just shut my big fat mouth and be grateful that I'm being considered for roles at all. Especially the challenging ones.
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