It has concluded, and may I say on a solid note.
Somehow, the energy didn't dip much for our final performance matinee. (This despite the fact that several of the cast members went out for something to eat and drink the night before. I opted not to join them.) I don't have an equation to determine this exactly, but to the best of my memory it is one of the highest energy closing shows I've ever been in.
I can't say I felt as on target as I did for the night before. (See previous entry.) I in fact skipped a line or two in a speech. Even setting that aside, the experience wasn't quite as exciting internally. Not quite as much of the golden ratio. Nonetheless, it was a closing show I could be proud of.
The audience, though small, was responsive. Again, not as much as the previous two audiences this second weekend, but as with last week, solid for a matinee. Both matinees being among the better performances in a two week run is uncommon for me.
This production was different in more than a few ways for me. I don't mean the particular challenge of a Mamet script, (though that was certainly part of it) but in regards to how I felt and behaved once the tech week and performances began.
To begin with, my level of ritual and tradition was lesser for this show than most of my others. My biggest rituals and "charms" if you will (which I've mentioned here many times) were still in place for this show. Yet despite the intense focus required to commit the script to memory, and to deliver it properly, I wasn't as somber in the final 15 minutes or so before curtain. Often I move off by myself, to meditate and such, but for this show I didn't. I remain relaxed, and reviewed my script in the actor's green room before hand, but didn't take a big pacing tour of the facility every night as I am known to do.
Perhaps it's just who I have become. Or perhaps the focus required for this play was so intense in some ways that part of my mind was allocating and prioritizing resources. Could the very intensity of the script and the work I put into same have caused my overall greater ease heading into the production? Was some part of my psyche saving energy for the show itself, by pulling it away from the need to be so ritualistic before hand? I think it's at least possible.
Maybe it comes from another angle. I have to admit that despite a few stumbles here and there, I felt more prepared each night for this play than I have for the last few years of theatre. That's not to say I've ever failed to be ready for a show, I haven't. But there is usually at least some gap between starting a show and total confidence in it-one which doesn't always get closed. This time, that gap was either much smaller, or not there, even before we opened. So much so, that there was a fairly large roadblock in my very first scene on the very first night...yet I never felt any panic about it. That might be a result of this higher level of preparation, might it not?
Why was I more prepared? In short, I think the script demands a different level of focus at different times than a lot of other plays. It's comparable to Shakespeare in effort to perform (even if not in content and poetry.) Not much room for zoning out, and I was conscious of this from the start. So I was even more tuned in than I usually am, and that is higher than most people I work with, if I may be so bold.
No need to analyze this into oblivion, though. Every experience in live theatre is different, for a variety of reasons. Glengarry Glen Ross at the Black Box Arts Center in August of 2017 happened to feel like a different experience for me. Not a totally poor one, not a disaster, just different.
And more tiring, no doubt about it. I didn't even go out to eat with the cast each time they did it, and I even skipped the cast party for the first time in my acting life. I felt emotionally spent, I had things to do at home, and I felt it was high time for me to exit the experience, the good and the bad, as soon as I could, after the final curtain, and so I did.
I have risen to the challenge of Shakespeare, and hope to continue to do so may times throughout my life. I can now say I have risen to the challenge of Mamet as well. To be frank, I think this experience will suffice. It's by far his best play, and his kind of rhythm can get more tiring for all the wrong reasons to me than other playwrights scripts. I'm glad this is on my resume, and I am satisfied with my work in it, but I don't feel a great desire to revisit David Mamet from now on.
Next theatre challenge? Unknown. I;m not cast in anything. I opted not to try out for the usual group of people that do Shakespeare in this area, despite many friends doing so, because of a venue change. Too long a commute for me each night, and a play that I never could get into. (Titus Andronicus.) I mentioned I'd fill a small hole in the cast if anyone backs out or something, but that I wouldn't be going trying out. It is what it is. Looks like they've got the people they need now. Here's to them.
Whatever is next, however, you can be sure I'll write about it here for you, whoever you mysterious, loyal blog readers of theatre are.
Monday, August 28, 2017
Sunday, August 27, 2017
Second Weekend and Golden Ratio
Well, just one performance left, the dreaded closing matinee. But first, to update on how the first two shows of this weekend went.
In sum, they went well. Friday night was a bigger and somewhat more involved crowd that tonight (Saturday) was, but tonight was galaxies better than last Saturday.
Truth be told I have more to say about tonight, than last night. That because that for certain moments of the play tonight to me represented my best acting of the run so far.
Not that I can fully explain how. A person in the audience who saw all of the performances so far may not have perceived much of a difference in tonight's performance I turned in. But for every actor, (I'd assume) there is a certain inner awareness of what they are and are not accomplishing any given play, any given night. It has a lot to do with how much of your theory for the character, built in your head and your heart over the process, is projected outward in the same way you see it inwardly. (In some cases, surpassing it.) So far i have no major complaints about my work in this show. I have been so far mostly satisfied with what I've done. But there haven't been as many moments of "inner" and "outer" matching up during this run as their have been with many of my shows.
Until tonight.
Part of this difficult-to-articulate experience relates also to proper ratio for me between automatic acting, and deliberate acting. I think I've said before here on the blog that a few times during this show I've been on stage for a few moments, and felt automatic; I felt that I was in the character, but responding in the exact moment to a few too many things, without having the grounded awareness that I am a performer in a role. As I said before it sounds great on some level, and it is a powerful tool. But the key word is tool. This vanishing into a moment cannot be a proper tool for me, if Ty vanishes too much under the surface, even if the acting is something to be proud of.
No, I strongly prefer to be just a tick or two ahead of the game, aware that I am a performer bringing a part to life. Controlling the magic, in other words, instead of the magic controlling me. A few times during the run the magic, if you will, ran ahead of me for a while.
The polar opposite problem of course is feeling nothing-being myself in a costume walking around a stage regurgitating something I've memorized. Aping more than acting. This also does little for me.
However, when just the right amount of "vanishing" mixes with just the right amount of conscious control over my performance, and ideal situation is achieved.
If you followed all of that, (don't be upset if you didn't) than what I'm saying is that I achieved this golden ratio more often, for longer periods tonight than I have in previous days of the run. So, by my own somewhat clumsy definition, I did, overall, my best work, had my best experience as an actor, tonight out of the five performances to date.
Not that this was happening every single minute. In fact, one usually must be satisfied with a ratio a few ticks below this golden. An entire evening within the golden is rare. But barring any major problems otherwise, an evening with at least an individual scene in the golden constitutes a successful night for me as an actor. Tonight was such a night, I'd say.
Now, what specifically about tonight made reaching the golden ratio possible more often than the other nights?
Hopefully you don't think I can answer my own question! For surely, it is one of the great mysteries of theatre, and indeed many of the arts. We don't always know why one crowd laughs and another doesn't, how a brilliant actor can pull off one role and not the next, or how and when we find the golden ratio I've talked about here. I can only say, if my experience matters at all, that being prepared as early as possible, and taking the work seriously increases the likelihood. And I have felt more prepared for this show than I have for my last few.
Tomorrow of course is that odd creature, closing performance. Matinee. I will naturally try to fight the fatigue and the expectations based on tonight, and everything else that has to be done after the show, and labor just as hard to give a good performance. I don't screw around in a show just because it's the final performance. But my honest instinct at this time is that tomorrow is not likely to be a better experience than tonight.
Check back in though, and find out.
In sum, they went well. Friday night was a bigger and somewhat more involved crowd that tonight (Saturday) was, but tonight was galaxies better than last Saturday.
Truth be told I have more to say about tonight, than last night. That because that for certain moments of the play tonight to me represented my best acting of the run so far.
Not that I can fully explain how. A person in the audience who saw all of the performances so far may not have perceived much of a difference in tonight's performance I turned in. But for every actor, (I'd assume) there is a certain inner awareness of what they are and are not accomplishing any given play, any given night. It has a lot to do with how much of your theory for the character, built in your head and your heart over the process, is projected outward in the same way you see it inwardly. (In some cases, surpassing it.) So far i have no major complaints about my work in this show. I have been so far mostly satisfied with what I've done. But there haven't been as many moments of "inner" and "outer" matching up during this run as their have been with many of my shows.
Until tonight.
Part of this difficult-to-articulate experience relates also to proper ratio for me between automatic acting, and deliberate acting. I think I've said before here on the blog that a few times during this show I've been on stage for a few moments, and felt automatic; I felt that I was in the character, but responding in the exact moment to a few too many things, without having the grounded awareness that I am a performer in a role. As I said before it sounds great on some level, and it is a powerful tool. But the key word is tool. This vanishing into a moment cannot be a proper tool for me, if Ty vanishes too much under the surface, even if the acting is something to be proud of.
No, I strongly prefer to be just a tick or two ahead of the game, aware that I am a performer bringing a part to life. Controlling the magic, in other words, instead of the magic controlling me. A few times during the run the magic, if you will, ran ahead of me for a while.
The polar opposite problem of course is feeling nothing-being myself in a costume walking around a stage regurgitating something I've memorized. Aping more than acting. This also does little for me.
However, when just the right amount of "vanishing" mixes with just the right amount of conscious control over my performance, and ideal situation is achieved.
If you followed all of that, (don't be upset if you didn't) than what I'm saying is that I achieved this golden ratio more often, for longer periods tonight than I have in previous days of the run. So, by my own somewhat clumsy definition, I did, overall, my best work, had my best experience as an actor, tonight out of the five performances to date.
Not that this was happening every single minute. In fact, one usually must be satisfied with a ratio a few ticks below this golden. An entire evening within the golden is rare. But barring any major problems otherwise, an evening with at least an individual scene in the golden constitutes a successful night for me as an actor. Tonight was such a night, I'd say.
Now, what specifically about tonight made reaching the golden ratio possible more often than the other nights?
Hopefully you don't think I can answer my own question! For surely, it is one of the great mysteries of theatre, and indeed many of the arts. We don't always know why one crowd laughs and another doesn't, how a brilliant actor can pull off one role and not the next, or how and when we find the golden ratio I've talked about here. I can only say, if my experience matters at all, that being prepared as early as possible, and taking the work seriously increases the likelihood. And I have felt more prepared for this show than I have for my last few.
Tomorrow of course is that odd creature, closing performance. Matinee. I will naturally try to fight the fatigue and the expectations based on tonight, and everything else that has to be done after the show, and labor just as hard to give a good performance. I don't screw around in a show just because it's the final performance. But my honest instinct at this time is that tomorrow is not likely to be a better experience than tonight.
Check back in though, and find out.
Thursday, August 24, 2017
Nights Two and Three for Glengarry
I neglected to write about our first Saturday show when it happened. Truth be told, there wasn't much to write about. No major mistakes, but in all sincerity I must tell you, loyal blog readers, that is was one of the smallest, deadest audiences for which I have performed in my entire theatre life.
Few laughs I could understand. Though listed as a comedy, it really is a drama with a few funny moments at best. But the energy...it was like a black-hole out there. A vortex that practically sucked the will to perform out of me a little more with each scene. God love the people who paid for tickets that night, but if my instincts as an actor after all of these years is any indication at all, they were getting very little out of the show. This, I'm telling you, was more than timid, more than polite. It feels like we didn't reach any of them at all, on any level.
They clapped at the end, at least.
It happens. And despite all the accumulated knowledge of actors, theatres, directors and so on, really nobody ever knows when it will happen, especially to this degree. True, if you never advertise a show, than you increase the odds of having few people bother showing up. If you try to perform Equus for middle-schoolers, you are probably going to make plenty of people unhappy. Saturday crowds are usually (but as I've said by no means always) more into a show than Sunday matinee crowds. There are obvious millstones.
Still, about 85% of the time, nobody has the slightest idea of determining when an audience such as the one I've described wills how up. Too many variable to even try. We performed well; on a technical level better than we did on opening night. But still, nothing.
Fortunately, the matinee was just as much of a surprise in the other direction. Twice as many people, all of whom were responsive and invested in the show.
They laughed a few times at things I didn't think anyone would laugh at. (Mom being there may have helped with that, I'm not sure.) As much as I hate matinees, and as much as I was specifically dragging my feel on this one because of the let down of the night before, it didn't take long to feel into the performance. Other than my having not quite eaten enough before the show, it felt good.
It's too early to tell, of course, if Sunday is to be out best day for the show. We have three more performances starting tomorrow night. It was, with little doubt in my mind, the best of the first weekend, even though Opening Night has the higher numbers.
In the history of my being in theatre, I was in exactly one show where the best crowd and performance was a matinee. (And it was so long ago, it pre-dates this blog.) Better a good matinee than no good performances during a run. But my overall distaste for matinees, often talked about here on this blog, is well documented, and I won't go over it here again. Look up "matinee" in the search, and you'll see what I mean.
Three more performances.
Few laughs I could understand. Though listed as a comedy, it really is a drama with a few funny moments at best. But the energy...it was like a black-hole out there. A vortex that practically sucked the will to perform out of me a little more with each scene. God love the people who paid for tickets that night, but if my instincts as an actor after all of these years is any indication at all, they were getting very little out of the show. This, I'm telling you, was more than timid, more than polite. It feels like we didn't reach any of them at all, on any level.
They clapped at the end, at least.
It happens. And despite all the accumulated knowledge of actors, theatres, directors and so on, really nobody ever knows when it will happen, especially to this degree. True, if you never advertise a show, than you increase the odds of having few people bother showing up. If you try to perform Equus for middle-schoolers, you are probably going to make plenty of people unhappy. Saturday crowds are usually (but as I've said by no means always) more into a show than Sunday matinee crowds. There are obvious millstones.
Still, about 85% of the time, nobody has the slightest idea of determining when an audience such as the one I've described wills how up. Too many variable to even try. We performed well; on a technical level better than we did on opening night. But still, nothing.
Fortunately, the matinee was just as much of a surprise in the other direction. Twice as many people, all of whom were responsive and invested in the show.
They laughed a few times at things I didn't think anyone would laugh at. (Mom being there may have helped with that, I'm not sure.) As much as I hate matinees, and as much as I was specifically dragging my feel on this one because of the let down of the night before, it didn't take long to feel into the performance. Other than my having not quite eaten enough before the show, it felt good.
It's too early to tell, of course, if Sunday is to be out best day for the show. We have three more performances starting tomorrow night. It was, with little doubt in my mind, the best of the first weekend, even though Opening Night has the higher numbers.
In the history of my being in theatre, I was in exactly one show where the best crowd and performance was a matinee. (And it was so long ago, it pre-dates this blog.) Better a good matinee than no good performances during a run. But my overall distaste for matinees, often talked about here on this blog, is well documented, and I won't go over it here again. Look up "matinee" in the search, and you'll see what I mean.
Three more performances.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
