Malcolm in the...Play

A few weeks ago, I auditioned at the Black Box Arts Center for a production of Macbeth. I was given the role of Malcolm, son of Duncan, Prince of Cumberland and eventual King of Scotland. (Sorry for the spoilers there.)

Those of you familiar with the play probably already know that as written, Malcolm is not one of the most memorable characters in Shakespeare's canon. This has its advantages and its disadvantages. The down side is I have no famous or excellent Shakespearean lines to deliver in this play. Let's face it, one doesn't often quote Malcolm. Another down side, however, is also an upside in certain ways; I have to work harder to create him.

I began doing this right after I was informed I got the role. Since the text doesn't provide much depth, it's up to the actor portraying Malcolm to add some meat to the bones provided. This of course is what all actors in all roles must do, but it takes on an even greater importance with smaller, lesser-remembered ones. If I don't put in that effort, both the character and myself become mostly invisible during the show, as there is no famous or poetic speech to fall back on. My creative muscles must be worked extra hard, and I've been working them over this character from the start.

Not every choice is set in stone yet. After all, production only just began on this one. But after reading his lines several times, looking up a few things and brainstorming/journaling about it, I've formed the basis of a character I can sink my teeth into, as it were. I hope to share more particulars as rehearsals go on, but we've only had one read-through so far, and I only just the other day emailed the director with my initial thoughts on how to approach this character. I've not heard back from her yet, so I don't know for sure if she has strong objections to anything I've laid out.

But I've known the director for years, and been in two previous Shakespeare shows she directed: Romeo and Juliet and Richard III. (In the same building.) She tends to give her actors a lot of creative freedom with their performances.

I can say it's set in modern times, or in the very least time non-specific, so that frees everyone up a bit when it comes to ideas and character.

I've also dipped into a few wells I haven't used in developing a character for a while. Already, in addition to brainstorming and reading the lines, I've done super-easy things, like look at pictures of Scottish landscapes. Not that any one picture of Scotland will make my performance, but the idea is to expose my mind to images, thoughts, activities that someone in Malcolm's position in this play would be exposed to.

This isn't Method acting, but rather building a library of information up front on which to build ideas and perceptions of the character as the process goes on, (and the images trickle further down into my mind.) It may be an alternate timeline in a lot of ways, but there can be zero doubt that this play takes place in Scotland, and that Malcolm is a prince and future king of same. Ergo, I look at pictures of Scotland, as I haven't been there in person.

I've said so many times it's the little things that can take a performance from good to great, adequate to memorable. These easy explorations of relevant source material will help me build nuance and subtlety into my performance. I don't know just how many people, if any, will notice my efforts. But it's worth it to me to have some information within my head about who the character is off stage, outside of the direct action of the play as it will make it easier to give a deeper performance.

And I have more time than usual to engage in such activity; this play won't go on until October. An upcoming remodeling of the performance space, as well as some extras within the production itself pursuant to the directors vision necessitated a longer than average rehearsal period. I don't mind this. Community theaters in this area rarely have that long to rehearse. Might as well make the most of it.

And just for fun I bought this t-shirt for the read-through, and to wear on a regular basis throughout rehearsals:

I got it from one of those universal high school/college apparel sites. Just plug your school name into whatever the template is. Even got it in the colors of the Scottish flag.

I know about half the cast from previous plays, and the other half are new to me. I introduced myself to the new people via email, so they aren't put off by my sometimes removed nature. (Often mistaken for snobbery.) Nobody wrote me back, but they can't say I never introduced myself.

An elephant in the room of course is the "curse" of the play. I don't think much about it as an actor, but I have respected the tradition, as it were. I have said "Macbeth" more in the last few weeks than I have in the previous decade, probably. I'm used to not saying it. Our director lit a candle with Shakespeare's portrait on it during the first read through, thereby, she told us, dispelling the curse. To think and speak of it is to give it power, was her position, and therefore she lit a candle, and declared there was to be no more talk of the curse.

So begins my third Shakespeare play with this director in this venue, and my fourth Shakespeare performance overall. (Five, if you'd like to count my one man show. Most don't.) Do follow me on yet another journey, loyal blog readers.

Tech Week Begins for Radium Girls

Tech week is often called "hell week," and each show I am in, I ask myself if it's going to be hell.

My answer for Radium Girls, based on the first day with all technical elements and costumes in place is, not yet. A bit hot under the collar, maybe, but not quite hell at this time.

I have never been a technical person. As an actor, I know when something technical has not gone correctly. Such as last night when a chair I was supposed to sit in wasn't set. Or when lights do/do not come on as they are supposed to. I can't say exactly what can be done to correct most technical problems. I only know they exist, most of the time, and the issues, particularly with the timing and cues for the lights continue to throw some road blocks at the show.

I don't want to speculate. There are issues with the lights and sound, and some with the running crew, and that's all I'm going to say about it. It has been frustrating at times. But when there are problems such as these, all one can do is work extra hard at one's own job, and hope for the best. Adapt to what happens as it happens, and continue with the scene. (I grabbed a chair from elsewhere on the set and sat in it for my scene, in response to the missing chair I mentioned above.)

My biggest issues are all my own, from a non-acting standpoint. Costumes, specifically. I have several quick-bordering-on-instant costume changes to make through the course of the show. (Mostly in Act II.) I've been experimenting with a few methods, and none of them have been perfect. I have to leave a jacket in the middle of the floor, or a prop on a set piece when I exit. Yet I have permission to change one or two things here and there, which I think will make it easier from now on. I will try them tonight.

I admit, I don't at all like having to try new technical things this late into a process. We open officially on Friday, with the possibility of a donation-only audience on Thursday. I like everything to be happening by rote almost by now. This is the second show I've been in this year with a lot of changes happening in order to catch up in the final week. I won't lie and say that it doesn't concern me at all.

Yet in the end, I know I am about telling the story. Playing the character. If in the end I forget a hat or put on a wrong jacket, but convey to the audience a living, memorable character, I will be for the most part satisfied with that. Not all of the delays are my fault, and I won't drain energy from my actual performance to feed some of the other issues that have arisen. If I find a smooth fix in the next day or two that doesn't tax me too much, fine. But if not, I am putting my focus on character, and letting that speak for itself. I consider that the actor's ultimate responsibility.

And believe it or not, that aspect felt solid to me last night. My character work, my presence in scenes went well. In some moments I felt better than I have thus far during the rehearsal process. I hope of course that stays, and continues to improve my performance in fact.

The Long and Winding Road

That led to last night's rehearsal. Literally.

I mentioned previously that due to various difficulties, rehearsals for Radium Girls had been moved to a back-up location about 90 minutes drive from my home. I went there last night to get blocking notes. More on that in a moment, but one big item to mention is that from here on out, our rehearsals will be in the Black Box Arts Center, where the show will be performed in June.

The director told us this not long after I arrived. I won't lie about this; I'm quite relieved. Every show and every venue has its issues, but the prospect of that long of a commute twice a night three or so night a week for the duration was to me a daunting one. I found myself willing at first, but after making the trek two times in a few days, I confess my resolve was faltering.

Would I have quit? I doubt it. Would I have had to miss more rehearsals than I like? Possibly. But for now it is a moot point. My commute is back to less than half the length. I don't know what exactly changed to allow it, but I'm happy it did so.

As to the rehearsal itself, it was mostly a blocking session. Blocking sessions, as I mentioned last time, don't generally provide interesting fodder for commentary. I'll mention I need to be in a crowd scene now, that I didn't think I was in previously. It will require a quick shift, as the scene comes right after a scene in which I play one of the two characters on stage. I actually have several instant shifts like that throughout the play. I don't think it will be too bad, once we get into the flow of things, but of course, I'd rather have a longer break between characters. But I have more than one long break in this show, unlike my previous production, so I can't complain too much.

Besides, in the above example, I don't have to do anything but sit down, for two minutes, and clap at the end of a speech. I almost don't even count it as a transition. Because I like to be thorough, I'll probably give some form of identity to the guy I'm playing in that ultra-brief appearance, but he's not my focus for the time being.

It's makes for a good reference, though. An actor should attach something to whatever character he's playing, even background roles such as this one. Regular readers of this blog know that I'm a big proponent of everyone on stage any given time having a story to tell. It may be a story that only the actor knows, but a story should be present, to give even the tiniest of performances three dimensions. I've quoted my late stage-directing professor on this topic several times. "You can't put a cardboard maid on stage." Indeed you can't. I'll have more on this item later on, probably.

As for my larger roles, I've been doing character work on them. IN fact I've been using methods for character creation that I haven't utilized in my last few shows. Not that I was lazy in previous shows, but over the years you try different methods and tricks to make more of what you're doing. In this case, I'm writing down some personality traits, and a small bit of backstory for my characters. I use that depth on a regular basis, but it's been a few years since I wrote it down as a visual reference i can review in its own right. I rarely get complicated with this process, but it nonetheless has in the past provided an anchor to performances, especially for small(er) roles. I'm in the early stages of it, but already I feel some of the benefits.

One brief example. There is a famous photograph of a young Thomas Edison, taken after he'd worked 72 hours straight on the phonograph. His exhaustion, frustration and determination are clear. That is the sort of weary persistence I want to give one of my characters at times. (Berry, the court advocate for the sick girls.) The picture doesn't tell his exact story, of course, but it does convey a type of presence similar to the one I wish to project with Berry at certain times. So I can refer to that photo as a general lighthouse of the human experience, calling me to the port of the goals I have for my version of Berry. See it below.

The director told us we needed to start "doing our homework" on such things as building characters, as well as getting off book, because it looks like the entire cast will almost never be together in one sitting before tech week. That is to say, may not have as much time to work on nuance together as would be ideal. The director advised us that if she found any of us going in a totally misguided direction she would pull us back, but in general, she trusted us to come up with things, and that she'd liked what little she had seen of character so far in the blocking rehearsals. (Where character work isn't the main goal.)

So here's hoping I don't need to be pulled back or course corrected with any of my decisions.

It appears I am in goof shape for the character I was given only a few days ago, Flinn. (A scientist of dubious qualifications to make medical statements.) I'm only just now beginning to explore what to do with him in his only scene, but I knew a certain arrogance should probably come through. It must have, as the stage manager moaned several times while I ran the scene and just how much she disliked the character. I pointed out I didn't like him either. But I'm happy that kind of reaction took place, as was the director. So I'd say I'm in the ballpark with that one.

So, some time has been lost, and there have been some obstacles. There will probably be a few more before all is said and done with this show. But it's my opinion that despite some of the difficulties, being able to rehearse in the same venue as the performance will start to smooth things out here and there. We'll see.

Next rehearsal is tomorrow night.

Is the Play the Thing? Or the Character?

The last time I addressed the notion of trying out for a show, even if you are not in love with every single aspect of it. While I of course stand by what I said, at some point in time once you are committed to being in a show, a decision must be made. I actually consider this one of the most important decisions an actor has to make. Not merely in any given show, but in one’s approach to acting in general.

It boils down to this often-controversial question: Should you be more devoted to your character or your show?

Two schools of thought are applicable here. One that says every moment you are on stage is designed merely to move the specific plot forward. In this viewpoint the actor on stage is a means by which a specific end is reached. (See also, David Mamet’s school of acting.) In this view, the show as a whole takes precedence over your feelings for your character.

The other school of thought dictates that any given moment the only thing an actor can control, the one thing he can own, is his character. It is the aspect of the show that he will spend the most time with, get to know the most, and of course will bring to life. Productions are symphonies of coordinated individual performances brought into harmony by a good director, and universal desire on the part of the cast. In this view, an actor’s particular character, and his relationship thereto reigns supreme. Call this the Laurence Olivier school. Or, in case you have not guessed it by now, the Ty Unglebower school.

Indeed, I am of the character-based persuasion in such a “showdown.”

Even if you love the whole show you are in, I maintain the importance of giving your character a bit more attention and affection than the entire arc of the production. An audience can afford to invest everything into the entire experience. The actor while in that show, cannot.

Why is this? It’s because I feel an actor should ignore the overall success of the play. On the contrary, every actor should have the success of the show as a priority Yet the best way to achieve that goal is to focus on nurturing your character, because no play is just one story. A play is a collection of individual stories, about individual characters. Any given character’s story may not be the focus of the play, or even of a given scene. Their story may not even get mentioned in the script, but their story exists to be told, if to nobody else but the actor portraying him.

I’m reminded of that ancient theatre story of the man who is playing a torch bearer in Romeo and Juliet. His friend asks him one day what the play is about. He answers, “Well, it’s all about this servant that runs around carrying a torch all night.”

Theatre may or may not be realistic, as compared to life. But it should at least be familiar. Even a farce should represent elements in humanity that we can relate to as an audience. This, I argue, is only achieved when, as in life, each character is empowered to control only his own circumstances, motivated by what he wants or needs. If an actor is constantly focused on how his actions and performance will set up some payoff five scenes from now, the performance loses something.

An actor should be aware of both the power and responsibility of assuming an identity not his own for two hours. This cannot be done when he considers himself a mere cog in the turning machinery of a larger vision. His story must be incorporated into that vision, not held hostage by it. As in life, tension between people, good and bad, makes things happen.

By no means is this view universal, and as I mentioned, this can be a controversial topic among theatre people, amateur and professional. Actors and playwrights and directors. Yet I have always believed in the old adage that the stage is an actor’s medium. I don’t shy away from that now, and I hope that you will not either.

(For further consideration of both of these “schools,” I recommend True and False: Heresy and Common Sense for the Actor by David Mamet for one side, and On Acting by Laurence Olivier for the other.)

(Originally appeared on shownizradio.net on September 16, 2009. This version has been edited to fit the medium.)

Creating "Life"

Last night I finished up the first set of revisions for the novel I am writing. As I have mentioned here on the blog here and there over the last two years, this novel takes place in a theatre during a community theatre production. The product of a writer/actor that is writing about theatre. (Is there some kind of metaphysical implosion risk in there somewhere? I think not, because I have the ancient axiom of "write what you know" covered from many angles in this one.)

As I have been writing this novel, something that I always knew to be true came into even greater focus; that writing fiction and acting are cousins. Not siblings, but certainly cousins. Not that one need be an author to be a fine actor, nor vice-versa. In fact you don't find many that are a legitimate success in both. However both creative activities have similar aspects.

There is the need to create a back story in your mind, even if that is not shared with the world, before a character can be three dimensional. There is putting a little bit of yourself into the characters you create both on the page and on the stage. The sheer amount of mental work and practice it takes to become good and then great is high for both art forms. And they are both enhanced by a keen observation of the world around you, and the people in it. ("People watching" is a pastime of many a writer and actor.)

The people watching leads to perhaps the most important knowledge that both great writers and great actors require, in my opinion. That is an understanding of human nature. Motivations. Reactions. Social trends. Personalities. By no means do I suggest that eithe the actor nor the writer has any chance of understanding all of human nature, and they sure as hell cannot solve it, if we look at it as a conundrum to be deciphered. What I mean is that to understand most motivations for most people most of the time, based on reading, observing, and just plain living as much as one can will give both the actor and the writer a believable foundation upon which they can begin to build a character.

Yes, in both cases short cuts could be taken. Stereotypes utilized. Details skimmed over. Those that do such second rate work do in fact sometimes become acclaimed and rich doing so, both in the writing world and the acting world. It can be infuriating to a lot of people, myself included. But take comfort, loyal blog readers, in the notion that to be a true master of either art form is to touch at the very heart of humanity, regardless of the genre of story. To make people see themselves, or at least some aspect of themselves, in the lives represented. Yes, even the darker sides of human nature must be made familiar to theatre goers and reader alike. Second rate cookie cutter actors and writers will never actually attain this, no matter how many millions they rake in. But those like me, who care about such things will, hopefully after practice and commitment as both a writer and an actor, are able to do so.

I will always strive to be a master of writing as well as acting, kissing cousins that they are.

My Latest ShowBizRadio Post

Last week my actor's advice column over on Showbiz Radio dealt with the need to keep our individual characters as I main focus, as opposed to the overall arc or presentation of the play in which we appear.

It's easy to get caught up in the bigger picture, and of course we want our shows to do well for everyone involved. But that end is actually best served by taking care of our individual responsibilities as best we can. Check out the column.