Mean what you say

I just read an essay over at Minnesota Playlist by John Middleton. I've never seen this guy perform, but people claim he's comic genius. I can tell from his writing that it's true. I can also tell there's a lot of heart and earnest love of theatre. I've read other essays by him and they have been inspired and hilarious. Here's a sample of the wise words:

So what I want from art has become very simple: I want you to mean what you say.

I don't care what it is—Shakespeare at the Guthrie, punk-comedy at Bryant Lake Bowl, musicals, political sketches, puppet fairy tales, Kabuki-stomp-happenings—anything you want to do, I want you to do it. But I want you to mean it.

It's easier, I suppose, to not mean it. Did you see Macbeth at the Guthrie earlier this year? A lot of smart, talented people put a lot of effort into…nothing. With a few exceptions (Barbara Bryne, Kris Nelson) the actors spent three hours doing lots of vigorous, but meaningless...nothing. They didn't need Shakespeare's words. They could have used the iPad User Guide as their text, and the performance would have been exactly the same.

Growl, growl, growl. Weepy, weep-weep. Stare distractedly. Your turn.

Three-plus hours full of sound and fury, signifying…awful. There is more drama, suspense, and humor in Sarah Palin's Twitter feed.

How does this happen? I can only guess, of course, but I'm pretty sure that for whatever reason Macbeth was chosen, it wasn't because someone couldn't wait to tell that story.

Read the full essay, here.

Commpany Class - Status and Levels of Honesty

In my last post, I lauded this company class that we took. Here are the first two exercises we discussed/tried out.

STATUS EXERCISE
This has a very English background. The idea is that anyone in a scene is fighting for the higher status. (Your status depended on how close you were to the king/queen)

I was the guinea pig for this along with J-Yo.

We started saying the lines. Each line would have a claim on status. Immediately we began to realize that we couldn’t let the other person win. There could be no concession. The scene involves two friends. Walter has taken his good friend Jim (me) to Central Park Lake to look for something (it ends up being a mermaid). Jim is hesitant to join in because he’s left an interesting party, but he relents all the same.

The professor put a small object in the very center of the room. The goal was to get to the center first and stay there.

He told us to speak each line to assume dominance over the other person. After each line, the rest of the class would applaud if they were convinced we had won the upperhand. Based on the applause, the actor would take a step closer to claiming the center.

It took a few tries, but J-Yo and I were able to start getting pretty aggressive. We faced each other, and I must say it was so delicious to take a step closer to the center.

But something interesting happened: once we kind of began the game, it started to flat-line. It was just a mild tennis match and the volleys and hits were going to the same place in the court.

“Now that you’ve found even ground, it has stopped becoming an issue of status. You have to find different ways of gaining dominance.”

So we’d have to switch our tactics throughout the lines. We did accordingly, and then:

“You guys need to ditch the slingshots and arrows. It’s time to bring out the bazookas.”

We went ahead with that. It became powerfully charged. I mean, you really had to reach for the jugular—figuratively (though the one rule we had was “don’t touch each other”).

Once we finished, the prof. said this was merely a spice in the cabinet of acting.

Someone pointed out that this exercise can really just amplify to aggression and anger too soon—become one note. The prof. mentioned that “aggression and anger are confused as the same thing.” He also reminded us that “drama equals conflict.”

LEVELS OF HONESTY/SUBTEXT
Here’s another spice. A person talks to someone at one of four levels:

1) Cocktail party (small talk)
2) New acquaintance (a new colleague, perhaps your favorite barista)
3) Social group (friends, close colleagues, family, spouse, romantic partner)
4) God/journal/invisible person sitting in the passenger of your car/ psychiatrist

During a conversation, people respond and talk to another at one of the four levels. Very rarely do you EVER talk to anyone at the fourth level. I mean, these are things that pack a punch. It’s brutal, untainted honesty. There are social niceties that we have been ingrained to abide by. Flirting involves a lot of level one talk with a small pinch of three here and there. And even then, the minute someone goes to three, they jump back to one immediately.

It’s kind of hard to explain, but the prof. did a great job of showing what each layer sounds like.

Characters like Hedda Gabler have a dynamic way of navigating these levels. She can charm like none other. She is a master of small talk. And then, every once in a while, she throws down a line that is all level four, which rips the carpet from underneath someone.

Hamlet is a character who lives at a number 4 level pretty consistently, but it’s very difficult to communicate with someone who is that brutally honest. And he does a bit of a roller coaster with the levels throughout much of the play. This is a great way of showing that antic disposition.

Dysart in Equus is a character who thrives at level four who is trying to bring Alan (his patient) to that level. Alan doesn’t get there—until the very end of the play.

Characters are struggling to have other characters break the ice between the two. The lower the number, the more ice there is between the two.

We used our scenes, and labeled the first ten lines according to which level the characters were speaking (or what we thought).

What we realized is that a dramatic shift in the room happens when someone drops a “truth bomb” (a la 30 Rock) in their delivery. The prof. would tell someone to use a level four on a certain line. The duo would go through the scene again, actor A would say this line with absolute honesty, and then actor B (the scene partner) would have to respond to that level. It kind of pulls your empathy strings big time. It’s brilliant to watch.

Most plays deal with characters who are battling with level four feelings and needs.

“Every play is about a person who is at war with the collective.”

I liked that.

I’ve NEVER sat through an acting class with so much attention. I loved watching every scene. It was so great to see people try new things. It was great to try things for myself. I loved it.

Company Class - A Prologue

I work in a theatre that has one of the most unique modes of operation – the artist/administrator model. Everyone in the company is essentially an artist and an administrator. The bulk of my job involves working on the marketing team. I do a lot of social media marketing (Twitter and Facebook). I manage the company’s blog (which has been a lot of fun). I send out press releases, arrange interviews with the media. It’s an extensive job that requires flexibility. I’ve been stretching a lot of muscles and reading a lot on arts marketing. I’d say of the many blogs in my Google reader, one-third relate to theatre/arts marketing.

Needless to say, I’m stretching and working a lot of marketing and communications muscles. I have lots to learn. There is a lot of art to it all. I work with design and writing frequently. I’ve been learning as I go, and I think I’m pretty good at my job.

That being said, my artist-as-actor muscles are kind of suffering. Yes, I’m acting regularly. This year has been great for me artistically. I’ve explored medieval text and played Death, I worked on my first Ibsen production with a world premier adaptation by Jeffrey Hatcher, and then I poured over the works of Steve Martin for the three minutes’ worth of Schmendiman. Throughout each of these processes, I’ve met some wonderful theatre-makers and have learned quite a bit. It has stretched me.

Recently, however, I’ve felt a bit…stagnant? Not sure if that’s quite the word. I’ve been eager to get my feet wet a bit more. That doesn’t happen so much anymore. The advent of all has put a refreshing spring in my step. I love this cooler weather. I’ve always enjoyed the beginning of the school year. There’s so much possibility with this season. I’m starting to get used to the whole “not-going-to-school” thing. But it’s a bit sad.

Once Picasso closes in less than two weeks, I won’t have much going on as an actor with the company I work with. I knew this would be a bit of a dry spell from the very beginning of the year, but now it’s starting to hit me.

ENTER: COMPANY CLASS

Yesterday, a theatre professional held a two-hour company acting class. He’s a professor and director at a University in the southeast. He’s got loads of training and experience in film and theatre. He’s not famous.

We had a small assignment: work on a scene from the provided sides with a partner. It need only be one minute long – nothing major. I freaked out a bit. But I met with J-Yo a couple times as we worked on this “mermaid” scene from a 5-minute play by John Patrick Shanley. We didn’t drill it too hard, just enough to get the words down.

The day of the class, I was buzzed. Seriously, I was bouncing off the walls in excitement for this class. I got quite a bit of work done in the morning. I was in this giddy mood and I know it was directly related to the afternoon’s class.

Later on, I'll post details of the class. Each element/exercise was quite informative and produced fascinating results--even in the two short hours we were there.

Monologues, Monologues

I just read MOONCHILDREN by Michael Weller. It's all about college students in the mid-60s. There's a possible monologue in there that would involve three characters in the room. Well, it starts with just two (Bob and Kathy) and then another enters early on, which totally switches the initial situation.

I think it's extremely active and has a lot of tonal colors to it (it's kind of funny and tragic). The stakes are extremely high, and it has a clear beginning, middle, and end. I would just have to place each character in very specific places on stage and keep them there (although Kathy does exit at the very end. I suppose I'd have to follow her exit with my eyes and head a bit...it depends if I want to add the "punchline" at the end).

By now I should just write it out for you guys.

Has anyone done a monologue where the actor is responding to two other characters?

The more I think about this, the more I like it as a possibility for grad school audition. I think I'll put it near the top of my list. I've acquired a nice working list of possibilities so far. Up to this point they've almost all been contemporary plays. I have to start thinking strategically about pairing them with Shakespeare (THAT reading is behind schedule, but I don't feel "guilty" about it by any means. I have started reading Titus Andronicus).

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I think another good step is to order a bunch of headshots NOW. There is absolutely NO use in waiting until the last minute. I CAN control a lot of anxiety over these little details if I nip them in the bud now.

My resume is essentially up-to-date. I am waiting to hear a couple casting details for next year's season.

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Other than that, I'll probably need to start getting some monologues on their feet and test them out with colleagues (which does involve a lot of work and is much easier said than done, I realize).