In 1587, Mary Stuart (more popularly known as Mary, Queen of Scots) lost her head. In 1800, Friedrich Schiller dramatized the events leading up to her death focusing on her relationship with her jailor, Queen Elizabeth I who also happened to be her cousin. Over 200 years later, a London production of the aforementioned play crossed the Big Pond to appeal to American audiences on Broadway.
Now that I have the exposition firmly in hand we can get down to the nitty gritty.
This production opens with an awkward flurry of activity as men in three piece suits enter a barren room, pull out a wooden trunk and hack at it with an ax. Objects are pulled from the trunk to the verbose objections of Hanna, the title character's nurse. Sadly, this is the first of only three major physical activities employed during the course of this production. Mary Stuart is a chatty play, to which I have no specific objection except that there is a danger in letting actors simply talk. In most instances, an actor allowed to talk without some grounding physical activity can make for some boring, masturbatory theater. Luckily, Mary Stuart features some fine performers who can, and do, imbue their speeches with depth and meaning without being self-indulgent.
Janet McTeer's Mary is a fiery queen; passionate, dignified and commanding despite her low position as one imprisoned for suspected crimes against England and Queen Elizabeth I. Harriet Walker's stately Elizabeth is at once a contrast to Mary's fiery, engaging personality while also playing a mirror image of desperation as she struggles to hang on to the power of her crown. Both women give this text their all, highlighting the all too human insecurities of these two queens without wallowing in them. These two women navigate in masculine waters, using their sex to their advantage. The men in the play are then forced to respond with almost feminine machinations to achieve their personal aims. Most notably, the Earl of Leicester (played coquettishly by John Benjamin Hickey) who toys with both queens' emotions at first to save Mary and finally to save himself.
The play between male and female is of great modern interest in this play, which makes me curious to know what changes to the original Schiller text were made by Peter Oswald, the writer credited in the playbill for this "new version". Both the direction and the design seem fixated on making a statement about the balance of power between the sexes that strikes me as somewhat dated. It feels like a feminist piece of theater from 20-30 years ago- almost relevant to today, but not quite.
First I will address the costume design. At first, I found myself confused by the choice to dress the male characters in grey three piece suits while the queens were dressed in period attire. Queen Elizabeth sported a period hairstyle while Mary Stuart had short, modern locks- until her death scene, that is. I had assumed that these were choices made to accommodate a budget of some kind. My instincts were confirmed as I read about the choice in the playbill: "To have the men in suits reminds the audience that this is a modern phenomenon too, one in which the women are usually the weaker partners." This would satisfy me in a small, black box production. However, I was sitting in the Broadhurst Theatre on 44th Street and this holdover from a shoestring-budget, West End production rang a bit false. Especially after it rained in the second act. Literally rained with wet water and everything! In general, any style choice you have to explain in a playbill is not a good, clear choice.
While I will concede there is still sexism in the world, this production seems to be a response to sexism as it was- not as it is. What's worse is that the text seems to be saying something slightly different than the production. Once again, I wonder how much of the original Schiller text was altered to support the views of this production. Queen Elizabeth I was (according to this production) swayed by the counsel of her male court, but they still feared her. She still had ultimate power, whether they wore suits or not. To beat a dead horse, the suits are trying to make a statement about a "modern phenomenon" which is not supported by the text and the world of the play. Perhaps in relation to Mary, the suits work. However, she was not imprisoned for being a woman. She was imprisoned for allegedly plotting to kill Elizabeth. This has very little to do with either of them being female. Or maybe it does... now THAT would be modern!
Some other directorial choices confused and grated on me. Much of the first act was delivered straight to the audience with all the formality of the drama portion of a high school speech meet. It was jarring and impersonal. Once again, the lack of any grounding physical activity seemed to have the actors "warming up" on stage. In addition, the direction to obey certain laws of courtly respect detracted from the interpersonal interaction on stage. Also, I saw a lot of back which made the staging feel somewhat petulant and immature. It reminded me of the conceptual "statements" that were made in certain arts school directing classes- fine in class, but not suited to the Broadway stage.
In general, I found this play enjoyable. The acting is quite good and it is always a pleasure for me to be in the theatre. However, I must admit to walking away wondering... why? Why THIS play? Why now? Why Broadway? When we are in the midst of some fairly large international and financial crises, why is THIS play important? What does it tell us? What do we walk away with? As a pure history play, I am afraid it leaves something to be desired as the pivotal moment in the text never actually happened in real life. As entertainment it is fine, but it ends in a beheading so you can't really call it the "feel good sensation of the year". If it is about the death penalty, it hardly provides us with any new insight beyond "wow, beheading is a bad way to go!". If it is about religious/ sexual persecution, then its message was completely lost on me. The long and short of it is, I don't know what this play, what this production, is ABOUT. It is a good production with a solid cast but it just doesn't feel good enough.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Monday, February 09, 2009
The Basics
Before I get into the nuts and bolts of scoring, we will need to talk about objectives and beats in general. I apologize if this is Acting 101 for some of you, but I have run across a stunning number of actors who have a surprisingly vague understanding of these terms. Since the words beat and objective get hurled around a lot I think it is important everyone is on the same page when discussing them.
Let us begin with beats. I like to think of beats as separate thoughts. Each line of text should have its own thought behind it. For example, the text I am using begins with these words: You're all flops. I am the Earth Mother and you are all flops. One could make the choice to have that contained in one beat- one thought. Of course, that would make for a fairly flat and lazy line reading. The stage directions indicate that Martha is saying this more or less to herself. This is a clue to her need and her thought process.You're all flops. One thought. I am the Earth Mother... I would say that this is one thought and the end of the sentence... and you are all flops... is yet another thought. The circumstance here of extreme drunkenness gives me the freedom to let thoughts clang around noisily in my mind. She isn't thinking too clearly. Here is how I would begin scoring this text- by separating it into beats like this:
Looking at that now, I question my need to separate that sentence into two beats. Let's leave it for now and see where the exploration takes us. We can always change it later. My own personal habit is to over-intellectualize this process. I must caution the academic actors out there against obsessing about scoring. If you spend too much time with the text and a pencil and not as much time putting it into your body, you will find yourself disconnected. Kinesthetic performers, however, will benefit from sitting down and understanding the text this way- it will help during those performances when you are not "feeling it". But, I get WAY ahead of myself.
Now that we understand beats, to a certain extent, let's look at objectives. I use the word "objective". Other directors or actors may use terms like "need" or "motivation" or "intention". For all intents and purposes these terms are interchangeable. They all refer to the same thing. I've grown fond of the word "objective", so that is what I use.
Objectives help the actor to understand the interior life of the character. There are two "types" of objectives I will explore in this post, the first is the Super Objective which I define as the driving need behind every action the character takes within the play. The second type is the Beat Objective which refers to the actions/thoughts that happen from moment to moment within the text. All Beat Objectives should be in line with/ reinforce the Super Objective and vice versa. If you find your Beat Objectives contradicting your Super Objective, that should be a red flag for you to explore changing one or both of them. You may just be barking up the wrong tree, so to speak. I can get into that in a bit more detail later. For now we should begin with the Super Objective.
As I said earlier, the Super Objective identifies your character's greatest need within the context of the play. Objectives are framed in the form of a statement of purpose, usually something like this:
For example, one could say their character wants to survive, to win, to destroy, to rescue...etc. Objectives should never, never, never be verbs of being. Verbs of being do not give the actor anything to PLAY. Tell me, how can you "be funny" or "be famous" or "be a great lover"? "Be" implies something one just "is" by accident of birth. Using a verb of being will lead to hollow indications and will not inspire you to fill your role. Action verbs (the more colorful the better) will help you to live in your character and will give you direction. Take those same "be" objectives I just cautioned about and turn them into more active verbs. "Be funny" could become "to entertain" or "to fling myself into my performance" or even "to abandon self-consciousness". "Be famous" could become "to claw my way to the top" or "to devour competition" or "to plead for validation/ love/ acceptance". "Be a great lover" could become "to seduce" or "to pleasure" or "to surround myself with love and comfort". See how each active verb gives a completely different picture of a character? Seeking objectives, both beat and super, gives the actor the opportunity to be a writer and the tools with which to practice specificity.
Here's how far we've gotten: One beat = 1 thought. Each beat has its own objective. Each beat objective must, in some way, lead toward the Super Objective which is the character's need throughout the entire play. In my next post I plan to tackle scoring my chosen monologue and discuss the benefits and dangers of scoring. (Okay, dangers is a bit dramatic, but what kind of language do you expect from an actor?) I'd love to write more on this topic, but I have a baby who desperately needs to eat blueberries.
To devour, to consume, to stuff his face with, to celebrate, to enjoy blueberries.
Let us begin with beats. I like to think of beats as separate thoughts. Each line of text should have its own thought behind it. For example, the text I am using begins with these words: You're all flops. I am the Earth Mother and you are all flops. One could make the choice to have that contained in one beat- one thought. Of course, that would make for a fairly flat and lazy line reading. The stage directions indicate that Martha is saying this more or less to herself. This is a clue to her need and her thought process.You're all flops. One thought. I am the Earth Mother... I would say that this is one thought and the end of the sentence... and you are all flops... is yet another thought. The circumstance here of extreme drunkenness gives me the freedom to let thoughts clang around noisily in my mind. She isn't thinking too clearly. Here is how I would begin scoring this text- by separating it into beats like this:
You're all flops./ I am the Earth Mother/ and you are all flops./
Looking at that now, I question my need to separate that sentence into two beats. Let's leave it for now and see where the exploration takes us. We can always change it later. My own personal habit is to over-intellectualize this process. I must caution the academic actors out there against obsessing about scoring. If you spend too much time with the text and a pencil and not as much time putting it into your body, you will find yourself disconnected. Kinesthetic performers, however, will benefit from sitting down and understanding the text this way- it will help during those performances when you are not "feeling it". But, I get WAY ahead of myself.
Now that we understand beats, to a certain extent, let's look at objectives. I use the word "objective". Other directors or actors may use terms like "need" or "motivation" or "intention". For all intents and purposes these terms are interchangeable. They all refer to the same thing. I've grown fond of the word "objective", so that is what I use.
Objectives help the actor to understand the interior life of the character. There are two "types" of objectives I will explore in this post, the first is the Super Objective which I define as the driving need behind every action the character takes within the play. The second type is the Beat Objective which refers to the actions/thoughts that happen from moment to moment within the text. All Beat Objectives should be in line with/ reinforce the Super Objective and vice versa. If you find your Beat Objectives contradicting your Super Objective, that should be a red flag for you to explore changing one or both of them. You may just be barking up the wrong tree, so to speak. I can get into that in a bit more detail later. For now we should begin with the Super Objective.
As I said earlier, the Super Objective identifies your character's greatest need within the context of the play. Objectives are framed in the form of a statement of purpose, usually something like this:
I want/ need to...
For example, one could say their character wants to survive, to win, to destroy, to rescue...etc. Objectives should never, never, never be verbs of being. Verbs of being do not give the actor anything to PLAY. Tell me, how can you "be funny" or "be famous" or "be a great lover"? "Be" implies something one just "is" by accident of birth. Using a verb of being will lead to hollow indications and will not inspire you to fill your role. Action verbs (the more colorful the better) will help you to live in your character and will give you direction. Take those same "be" objectives I just cautioned about and turn them into more active verbs. "Be funny" could become "to entertain" or "to fling myself into my performance" or even "to abandon self-consciousness". "Be famous" could become "to claw my way to the top" or "to devour competition" or "to plead for validation/ love/ acceptance". "Be a great lover" could become "to seduce" or "to pleasure" or "to surround myself with love and comfort". See how each active verb gives a completely different picture of a character? Seeking objectives, both beat and super, gives the actor the opportunity to be a writer and the tools with which to practice specificity.
Here's how far we've gotten: One beat = 1 thought. Each beat has its own objective. Each beat objective must, in some way, lead toward the Super Objective which is the character's need throughout the entire play. In my next post I plan to tackle scoring my chosen monologue and discuss the benefits and dangers of scoring. (Okay, dangers is a bit dramatic, but what kind of language do you expect from an actor?) I'd love to write more on this topic, but I have a baby who desperately needs to eat blueberries.
To devour, to consume, to stuff his face with, to celebrate, to enjoy blueberries.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Martha
I've been avoiding Martha.
I was taught that reluctance to tackle a particular task/role can be very telling and that you should always challenge yourself to explore that which you would rather avoid. I've been timidly dipping my toes into a cold Lake Martha only to discover that I am frightened of empathizing with her too much. I've made judgments about her and am most reluctant to discover how those judgments might apply to me.
I find this somewhat curious since I've played murderers, whores, liars- a host of sinners- and had no trouble feeling for them. Martha sets me off. I want to shake her. She is like Godzilla, mindlessly stomping on other lives because she is unhappy in her own. As eager as I am to approach her from an intellectual standpoint, I am unwilling to admit to explore my own Godzilla tendencies. I've certainly done it. Repeatedly. Exploring Martha will give me the opportunity to forgive myself for past transgressions. Or not. It's the "or not" that frightens me.
This is how I know I am on the right track. Fear is my friend.
So, in wading into these waters I'd like to start at the shallow end- a way to bring Martha closer to me without scaring either of us off. Martha is an educated woman who is resigned to playing "wifey" to a college professor. I imagine some of her restlessness stems from this circumstance. With no concrete, consistent outlet for her intellect she engages in "pointless infidelities". But it isn't just restlessness. It's deeper. She clearly needs attention from her father and, being a woman and housewife, gets substantially less than required. She intended to bask in the reflected glory of her professor husband, but she is disappointed by what she perceives as his professional failings. George's failures are her failures. She pushes, pulls, cajoles, and nags to fight for her rightful place but all for naught. What she CAN do, however, is attract men. With each conquest she is simultaneously validated and destroyed. She is torn between her impulses and her deepest needs and unable to discern from moment to moment the actions necessary to reach a healthy, life affirming goal.
That is something I can reach within myself. I know about being an intelligent, capable woman trapped in the "wifey" role. I have certainly toyed with men in my life and then hated myself for it. I also know about pushing others to fulfill MY visions with out any regard to their own goals and definitions of success. What I need to do if discover my own threshold. What "as if" do I need to use to help me understand ACTING on these impulses? I've never cheated on anyone. My own sense of empathy forbids it. I need to understand how to make that decision... and make it repeatedly. I need to understand the depth of need in Martha that would cause her to lash out the way she does.
It is time for me to work on scoring text and making physical choices.
I was taught that reluctance to tackle a particular task/role can be very telling and that you should always challenge yourself to explore that which you would rather avoid. I've been timidly dipping my toes into a cold Lake Martha only to discover that I am frightened of empathizing with her too much. I've made judgments about her and am most reluctant to discover how those judgments might apply to me.
I find this somewhat curious since I've played murderers, whores, liars- a host of sinners- and had no trouble feeling for them. Martha sets me off. I want to shake her. She is like Godzilla, mindlessly stomping on other lives because she is unhappy in her own. As eager as I am to approach her from an intellectual standpoint, I am unwilling to admit to explore my own Godzilla tendencies. I've certainly done it. Repeatedly. Exploring Martha will give me the opportunity to forgive myself for past transgressions. Or not. It's the "or not" that frightens me.
This is how I know I am on the right track. Fear is my friend.
So, in wading into these waters I'd like to start at the shallow end- a way to bring Martha closer to me without scaring either of us off. Martha is an educated woman who is resigned to playing "wifey" to a college professor. I imagine some of her restlessness stems from this circumstance. With no concrete, consistent outlet for her intellect she engages in "pointless infidelities". But it isn't just restlessness. It's deeper. She clearly needs attention from her father and, being a woman and housewife, gets substantially less than required. She intended to bask in the reflected glory of her professor husband, but she is disappointed by what she perceives as his professional failings. George's failures are her failures. She pushes, pulls, cajoles, and nags to fight for her rightful place but all for naught. What she CAN do, however, is attract men. With each conquest she is simultaneously validated and destroyed. She is torn between her impulses and her deepest needs and unable to discern from moment to moment the actions necessary to reach a healthy, life affirming goal.
That is something I can reach within myself. I know about being an intelligent, capable woman trapped in the "wifey" role. I have certainly toyed with men in my life and then hated myself for it. I also know about pushing others to fulfill MY visions with out any regard to their own goals and definitions of success. What I need to do if discover my own threshold. What "as if" do I need to use to help me understand ACTING on these impulses? I've never cheated on anyone. My own sense of empathy forbids it. I need to understand how to make that decision... and make it repeatedly. I need to understand the depth of need in Martha that would cause her to lash out the way she does.
It is time for me to work on scoring text and making physical choices.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Feeling Sick
Not sick like flu sick, sick like "whoa... I did something BAD" sick.
I do a little blog editing for a friend of mine who is a restauranteur and just about the sweetest guy you'll ever meet. I can't imagine thinking ill of him. I might shake my head at him from time to time, but I'm so damn arrogant I do that with just about everyone. It really is best to ignore me. But I digress... In addition to this side-blogging I have also put the word out for an actor I've worked with before about his new foray into private classes. I've meant no one any harm and believe that both of these people want to be positive forces in the world. Whether they succeed in that endeavor... well, I have no control over that. Today I have just been bombarded with negative online comments about these people and some of these comments are from people who have preferred to remain anonymous. Now I feel like a kicked puppy.
In one of these cases (I won't get too specific) I happened to be privy to some information that these anonymous angry people clearly did not have. Jerk that I am, I attempted to explain what I felt I could divulge publicly and I got a smack down again. Now I remember why I disabled comments on a previously abandoned blog. People are jerks and they think they can bawl you out just because they have a keyboard, too. Even people that you know think they can jerk you around in a comment section. Holy bananas... all I did was pass along some information! Don't kill the messenger.
The horrible thing is, I feel bad. I feel personally responsible, although I didn't DO anything. However, I feel sick to my stomach about the whole mess. Maybe, if you feel you've been screwed by someone you should take it up with that person instead of taking out your anger on a blog's comment section. The truth is, spewing online is about getting revenge for a perceived wrong and it doesn't really give the "offending party" the opportunity to redeem themselves. It's a jackass thing to do.
I do a little blog editing for a friend of mine who is a restauranteur and just about the sweetest guy you'll ever meet. I can't imagine thinking ill of him. I might shake my head at him from time to time, but I'm so damn arrogant I do that with just about everyone. It really is best to ignore me. But I digress... In addition to this side-blogging I have also put the word out for an actor I've worked with before about his new foray into private classes. I've meant no one any harm and believe that both of these people want to be positive forces in the world. Whether they succeed in that endeavor... well, I have no control over that. Today I have just been bombarded with negative online comments about these people and some of these comments are from people who have preferred to remain anonymous. Now I feel like a kicked puppy.
In one of these cases (I won't get too specific) I happened to be privy to some information that these anonymous angry people clearly did not have. Jerk that I am, I attempted to explain what I felt I could divulge publicly and I got a smack down again. Now I remember why I disabled comments on a previously abandoned blog. People are jerks and they think they can bawl you out just because they have a keyboard, too. Even people that you know think they can jerk you around in a comment section. Holy bananas... all I did was pass along some information! Don't kill the messenger.
The horrible thing is, I feel bad. I feel personally responsible, although I didn't DO anything. However, I feel sick to my stomach about the whole mess. Maybe, if you feel you've been screwed by someone you should take it up with that person instead of taking out your anger on a blog's comment section. The truth is, spewing online is about getting revenge for a perceived wrong and it doesn't really give the "offending party" the opportunity to redeem themselves. It's a jackass thing to do.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Identifying the Circumstances
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? by Edward Albee
It is late, well after midnight, when George and Martha return to there home from a faculty party at the small New England college at which George is a history professor. They have been drinking heavily and are already slightly befuddled when Martha announces that she has invited a new couple over for a post-party get together. The new couple happens to be the new, young, hot shot biology teacher and his "slim-hipped" wife.
Martha is 52 "looking somewhat younger. Ample but not fleshy".
George is 46 "thin, hair going grey."
Honey is 26 "a petite blond girl, rather plain"
Nick is 30 "well put together, good looking"
Martha is the daughter of the college President. George was once the new stud on campus and Martha (and presumably her father?) intended to groom him for the presidency, but George (for one reason or another) was not up to snuff. George and Martha are a well educated couple. To them, words are a blood sport. They are witty, brash and highly literate. George speaks Latin and both George and Martha know at least enough French and Spanish to verbally assault one another.
George and Martha are steeped in the academic world. They read. They lead academic lives, although I suspect Martha is left rather unsatisfied by simply playing wifey to a college professor. She is intelligent in her own right, but seems to have little outlet for her energies beyond berating her all-too-patient husband, her many daliences with an odd assortment of men, and the fictional life that she and George seem to have written together. This is the central puzzle of the play. Why have they created a fictional son? Why reveal it now? Why do they expose themselves in this way to this particular couple? Why toy with Nick and Honey? What the hell is this play about, anyway?
Both couples are childless and this might be the 800 lb gorilla copulating with the proverbial elephant in the room. Martha seems to be unable to conceive (as an actor that will be my choice) and Honey seems unwilling. Nick is a reluctant husband. George suffers abuse from Martha. Nick's true feelings for Honey are questionable and Honey seems along for the ride. Martha and George are deeply devoted to one another, but Martha is obliged to punish him. In Act 3 she says:
Martha barrels through the text as a monstrous, destructive animal. She is willing to destroy herself, her husband, her reputation, her marriage, Nick and Honey's marriage... she has the air of a caged animal ready to go berserk. She uses sex as a tool of destruction. Meanwhile, George, though just as caustic and destructive, seems to be attempting to hold his world and his wife together. He berates Nick and seems disgusted by Honey but he attempts to share his wisdom and life experience with them. He warns them repeatedly, though it is difficult to heed the warnings couched in insults and condescension.
In the end, George seeks to destroy that which has previously held his life and his marriage together- his fictional son. It is as if total annihilation is the path to salvation. Perhaps it is? Albee leaves this for the audience to consider.
As with all good drama, there are dozens more circumstances to pull apart and piece back together again. Everyone's relationship to Martha's father, the college president, looms rather ominously throughout the text. George and Martha's rather sketchy relationship to "truth" is another. While these (and other) circumstances are integral to the play, this is a good place to start. Now is the time for me to begin to bring myself closer to the text by exploring what I know about these circumstances. By placing myself "inside" the text (as opposed to an academic analysis from the "outside") I will start to identify with Martha. After all, that is my job.
As I look at Martha, my first job is to relate to her- to empathize with her. I do not have a set "outside-in" or "inside-out" methodology. I like to let the role dictate which tools I should use. In this instance I feel I should work on Martha physically first. Martha is animalistic, she is comfortable with her body and she uses it to advance her objectives. I...do not. Since this will be a huge hurdle for me (feeling rather terrible about my post-baby, post-tragic H&M shopping excursion body!) I think this will be a good place for me to begin. If I don't unlock the keys to Martha's physicality early, I will be lost when it comes to making those words come out of my mouth in a believable fashion. I will begin by memorizing a chunk of text and using it in a series of physical exercises which I will detail here as best I can.
Uh oh. Baby awake...
It is late, well after midnight, when George and Martha return to there home from a faculty party at the small New England college at which George is a history professor. They have been drinking heavily and are already slightly befuddled when Martha announces that she has invited a new couple over for a post-party get together. The new couple happens to be the new, young, hot shot biology teacher and his "slim-hipped" wife.
Martha is 52 "looking somewhat younger. Ample but not fleshy".
George is 46 "thin, hair going grey."
Honey is 26 "a petite blond girl, rather plain"
Nick is 30 "well put together, good looking"
Martha is the daughter of the college President. George was once the new stud on campus and Martha (and presumably her father?) intended to groom him for the presidency, but George (for one reason or another) was not up to snuff. George and Martha are a well educated couple. To them, words are a blood sport. They are witty, brash and highly literate. George speaks Latin and both George and Martha know at least enough French and Spanish to verbally assault one another.
George and Martha are steeped in the academic world. They read. They lead academic lives, although I suspect Martha is left rather unsatisfied by simply playing wifey to a college professor. She is intelligent in her own right, but seems to have little outlet for her energies beyond berating her all-too-patient husband, her many daliences with an odd assortment of men, and the fictional life that she and George seem to have written together. This is the central puzzle of the play. Why have they created a fictional son? Why reveal it now? Why do they expose themselves in this way to this particular couple? Why toy with Nick and Honey? What the hell is this play about, anyway?
Both couples are childless and this might be the 800 lb gorilla copulating with the proverbial elephant in the room. Martha seems to be unable to conceive (as an actor that will be my choice) and Honey seems unwilling. Nick is a reluctant husband. George suffers abuse from Martha. Nick's true feelings for Honey are questionable and Honey seems along for the ride. Martha and George are deeply devoted to one another, but Martha is obliged to punish him. In Act 3 she says:
...whom I will not forgive for having come to rest; for having seen me and having said; yes, this will do; who has made the hideous, the hurting , the insulting mistake of loving me and must be punished for it. George and Martha: sad, sad, sad... who tolerates, which is intolerable; who is kind, which is cruel; who understands, which is beyond comprehension...
Martha barrels through the text as a monstrous, destructive animal. She is willing to destroy herself, her husband, her reputation, her marriage, Nick and Honey's marriage... she has the air of a caged animal ready to go berserk. She uses sex as a tool of destruction. Meanwhile, George, though just as caustic and destructive, seems to be attempting to hold his world and his wife together. He berates Nick and seems disgusted by Honey but he attempts to share his wisdom and life experience with them. He warns them repeatedly, though it is difficult to heed the warnings couched in insults and condescension.
In the end, George seeks to destroy that which has previously held his life and his marriage together- his fictional son. It is as if total annihilation is the path to salvation. Perhaps it is? Albee leaves this for the audience to consider.
As with all good drama, there are dozens more circumstances to pull apart and piece back together again. Everyone's relationship to Martha's father, the college president, looms rather ominously throughout the text. George and Martha's rather sketchy relationship to "truth" is another. While these (and other) circumstances are integral to the play, this is a good place to start. Now is the time for me to begin to bring myself closer to the text by exploring what I know about these circumstances. By placing myself "inside" the text (as opposed to an academic analysis from the "outside") I will start to identify with Martha. After all, that is my job.
As I look at Martha, my first job is to relate to her- to empathize with her. I do not have a set "outside-in" or "inside-out" methodology. I like to let the role dictate which tools I should use. In this instance I feel I should work on Martha physically first. Martha is animalistic, she is comfortable with her body and she uses it to advance her objectives. I...do not. Since this will be a huge hurdle for me (feeling rather terrible about my post-baby, post-tragic H&M shopping excursion body!) I think this will be a good place for me to begin. If I don't unlock the keys to Martha's physicality early, I will be lost when it comes to making those words come out of my mouth in a believable fashion. I will begin by memorizing a chunk of text and using it in a series of physical exercises which I will detail here as best I can.
Uh oh. Baby awake...
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Notes on Martha
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf is destined to be one of those scripts I will need to wallow in.
Through my readings I have come to my usual position of Armchair Psychologist. My gut instinct is to "diagnose" Martha with Borderline Personality Disorder. Now, I would hesitate to make such a statement about a real, living person, but for the sake of pursuing a character I will make this judgement. Martha displays some classic characteristics of BPD. For the sake of expediency I will send you to this excellent post that validated my theory.
In addition to my multiple readings of the text, I have been searching for connections and others' ideas about this play. In the absence of a cast and table discussions I find reading others' opinions to be highly stimulating. Sometimes it is exciting to agree. In this particular case, I find myself in violent disagreement with some of the character studies I have found. Specifically, in regard to George. Most have found him to be weak-willed and spineless... in essence, the opinions I have read have validated Martha's worst opinions of George. On the contrary, I have found him to be principled (although not in the more traditional vein), calm and exceptionally compassionate. Granted, his compassion manifests itself in some fairly sick ways, but he does try to help everyone in the play. He tries to warn Nick, he feels true pity for Honey and he fights tooth and nail with Martha because he loves her. Love does not always have a healthy shine to it. In my various readings I keep thinking George is not unlike the Hollywood cliche of the boy who raises an orphaned animal and through an unfortunate set of circumstances finds himself deep in the forest chucking rocks at his beloved friend to force it to return to the wild- where it belongs. George lobs compassionate rocks at everyone in this tale. On the outside, this ineffectual cuckold is really a courageous lover.
Ah, but that is my tendency toward co-dependency speaking! Of course I relate to George! Of course I like him! Of course I skew toward seeing him as noble and kind! That's MY personal sickness speaking. As for Martha... she is going to be a huge challenge for me. I can get at the loud and vulgar part of her- that is well within my range. It is her extreme cruelty, her vindictiveness... see? It is the ultimate challenge for me to frame this behavior in the "actor positive", meaning that I need to put this behavior into non-judgmental language. If I am judging her behavior I will have difficulty justifying it for myself. After all, everything she does feels necessary to her survival. She needs to lash out, to bray, to punish, in order to save herself in some way.
A plan of attack is beginning to form and the specific text that I will use for my explorations is starting to rise to the surface.
Through my readings I have come to my usual position of Armchair Psychologist. My gut instinct is to "diagnose" Martha with Borderline Personality Disorder. Now, I would hesitate to make such a statement about a real, living person, but for the sake of pursuing a character I will make this judgement. Martha displays some classic characteristics of BPD. For the sake of expediency I will send you to this excellent post that validated my theory.
In addition to my multiple readings of the text, I have been searching for connections and others' ideas about this play. In the absence of a cast and table discussions I find reading others' opinions to be highly stimulating. Sometimes it is exciting to agree. In this particular case, I find myself in violent disagreement with some of the character studies I have found. Specifically, in regard to George. Most have found him to be weak-willed and spineless... in essence, the opinions I have read have validated Martha's worst opinions of George. On the contrary, I have found him to be principled (although not in the more traditional vein), calm and exceptionally compassionate. Granted, his compassion manifests itself in some fairly sick ways, but he does try to help everyone in the play. He tries to warn Nick, he feels true pity for Honey and he fights tooth and nail with Martha because he loves her. Love does not always have a healthy shine to it. In my various readings I keep thinking George is not unlike the Hollywood cliche of the boy who raises an orphaned animal and through an unfortunate set of circumstances finds himself deep in the forest chucking rocks at his beloved friend to force it to return to the wild- where it belongs. George lobs compassionate rocks at everyone in this tale. On the outside, this ineffectual cuckold is really a courageous lover.
Ah, but that is my tendency toward co-dependency speaking! Of course I relate to George! Of course I like him! Of course I skew toward seeing him as noble and kind! That's MY personal sickness speaking. As for Martha... she is going to be a huge challenge for me. I can get at the loud and vulgar part of her- that is well within my range. It is her extreme cruelty, her vindictiveness... see? It is the ultimate challenge for me to frame this behavior in the "actor positive", meaning that I need to put this behavior into non-judgmental language. If I am judging her behavior I will have difficulty justifying it for myself. After all, everything she does feels necessary to her survival. She needs to lash out, to bray, to punish, in order to save herself in some way.
A plan of attack is beginning to form and the specific text that I will use for my explorations is starting to rise to the surface.
Friday, December 26, 2008
The Work Begins
I am in the process of reading Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf again and again and again. It is through these reads that I begin to form a plan of attack for the text. This is generally how the reads progress:
First Read: I get a general impression of elements within the text- themes, character, relationship, setting, etc. I try to tune in to the story and remain open to see what, if anything strikes me.
Second Read: This is a slightly more "conscious"- though still general- reading of the text. Through this reading I begin to identify what elements ring little bells of truth within me. What do I relate to? What is completely foreign to me? What do I resist? What gets me excited about the text?
Third Read: This is when I begin to read the text as an actor (or as a director, should that be my role in any particular production- but that is an entirely different process). I take careful note of things that are said by and about my character. Words stand out as clues to physical actions, habits, and/or personality traits. For example, in Virginia Woolf, Martha is said to bray... this one word will provide a valuable starting point for my use of body and voice. I make a note of this word (and other words and phrases) which I will return to when I am ready to begin my physical explorations.
Fourth Read: This is where I attempt to read through the eyes of my own character. I will often read things out loud in order to play with the language and begin to identify the thoughts that propel the words in the text.
Fifth Read: This is where I begin to part from any set formula. Some characters I get and I feel I am ready to get on my feet and play. With others I feel the need to steep myself in the play and let myself stew a little longer. Then there are plays that require a more academic approach- it is with these plays that I "score" the text. I will do some element of scoring with Virginia Woolf , partially for the exercise of scoring and partially because some of Martha's thought processes still elude me. I will do an entire post on scoring, when the time comes.
There is no set way to approach a text and every actor is different. Some actors prefer to feel their way through a text while still others need to sit down and analyze each word, each rhythm and syllable. I do a mixture of both. For this, particular project, I will not have the benefit of multiple table reads with other actors. So my process will be a little different than a process I would employ during rehearsals with a full cast- mostly because I will need to be more disciplined than if I had an ensemble around to keep me honest! I will need to use this blog to keep me accountable for my explorations. I am hoping to find a way to film some of my explorations and share them on this blog so that I may analyze my own process...warts and all. I will do my best to keep my vanity in check and illustrate my dismal failures as well as my successes!
My next posting will cover, specifically, the information I have gleaned from my readings of the text. Wish me luck!
First Read: I get a general impression of elements within the text- themes, character, relationship, setting, etc. I try to tune in to the story and remain open to see what, if anything strikes me.
Second Read: This is a slightly more "conscious"- though still general- reading of the text. Through this reading I begin to identify what elements ring little bells of truth within me. What do I relate to? What is completely foreign to me? What do I resist? What gets me excited about the text?
Third Read: This is when I begin to read the text as an actor (or as a director, should that be my role in any particular production- but that is an entirely different process). I take careful note of things that are said by and about my character. Words stand out as clues to physical actions, habits, and/or personality traits. For example, in Virginia Woolf, Martha is said to bray... this one word will provide a valuable starting point for my use of body and voice. I make a note of this word (and other words and phrases) which I will return to when I am ready to begin my physical explorations.
Fourth Read: This is where I attempt to read through the eyes of my own character. I will often read things out loud in order to play with the language and begin to identify the thoughts that propel the words in the text.
Fifth Read: This is where I begin to part from any set formula. Some characters I get and I feel I am ready to get on my feet and play. With others I feel the need to steep myself in the play and let myself stew a little longer. Then there are plays that require a more academic approach- it is with these plays that I "score" the text. I will do some element of scoring with Virginia Woolf , partially for the exercise of scoring and partially because some of Martha's thought processes still elude me. I will do an entire post on scoring, when the time comes.
There is no set way to approach a text and every actor is different. Some actors prefer to feel their way through a text while still others need to sit down and analyze each word, each rhythm and syllable. I do a mixture of both. For this, particular project, I will not have the benefit of multiple table reads with other actors. So my process will be a little different than a process I would employ during rehearsals with a full cast- mostly because I will need to be more disciplined than if I had an ensemble around to keep me honest! I will need to use this blog to keep me accountable for my explorations. I am hoping to find a way to film some of my explorations and share them on this blog so that I may analyze my own process...warts and all. I will do my best to keep my vanity in check and illustrate my dismal failures as well as my successes!
My next posting will cover, specifically, the information I have gleaned from my readings of the text. Wish me luck!
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Drum Roll Please
Finally- I have a stolen second to talk about my little project...
I have decided to work on Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf. The process of choosing a project to work on is as important as the process involved in creating the project itself. Here are my reasons for choosing this piece.
1. This text has survived over 15 years of bookshelf purges. It is time I figured out how and why it has survived.
2. This play has a 'kitchen sink' evolution that I favor in theater pieces. The setting is simple, the circumstances complex.
3. The circumstances are complex.
4. Martha is 20 years my senior as a character, which I could look at as a bad choice but I prefer to think of it as a challenge to my belief in the power of empathy for an actor. That, in and of itself, could prove or disprove some of my acting theories.
5. Martha is full of anger and resentment. In my experience I have found it beneficial to explore issues through character that I have difficulty expressing in my personal life. It may help me break through some personal barriers.
6. There is a great possibility that I could fail in my execution of this process. This will not be an easy text for me to tackle and I need to exercise my right to fail- knowing that it is the difficult task that is most worth the effort.
7. The characters spend the entire play in various stages of drunkenness. This provides me with an opportunity to do some sensory work.
8. Martha has a very confident sexuality, something I feel I've lost over the years.
9. The struggle for love in this play is weighted down in the circumstances. It is always a challenge to discover a relationship to joy in such a murky atmosphere, but that is what makes a compelling piece of theatre. It will be hard to keep my Martha from wallowing (something I find myself doing far too often) but her fight, and the feistiness of the other characters in the play, will be a sharp jab every time I venture into self-pity.
10. Its a good play.
So. There. I've made my decision. My next post will be an overview of themes and motivations in the play. I expect to be able to put that together sometime during or directly after the holiday.
Wish me... wish me something fun.
I have decided to work on Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf. The process of choosing a project to work on is as important as the process involved in creating the project itself. Here are my reasons for choosing this piece.
1. This text has survived over 15 years of bookshelf purges. It is time I figured out how and why it has survived.
2. This play has a 'kitchen sink' evolution that I favor in theater pieces. The setting is simple, the circumstances complex.
3. The circumstances are complex.
4. Martha is 20 years my senior as a character, which I could look at as a bad choice but I prefer to think of it as a challenge to my belief in the power of empathy for an actor. That, in and of itself, could prove or disprove some of my acting theories.
5. Martha is full of anger and resentment. In my experience I have found it beneficial to explore issues through character that I have difficulty expressing in my personal life. It may help me break through some personal barriers.
6. There is a great possibility that I could fail in my execution of this process. This will not be an easy text for me to tackle and I need to exercise my right to fail- knowing that it is the difficult task that is most worth the effort.
7. The characters spend the entire play in various stages of drunkenness. This provides me with an opportunity to do some sensory work.
8. Martha has a very confident sexuality, something I feel I've lost over the years.
9. The struggle for love in this play is weighted down in the circumstances. It is always a challenge to discover a relationship to joy in such a murky atmosphere, but that is what makes a compelling piece of theatre. It will be hard to keep my Martha from wallowing (something I find myself doing far too often) but her fight, and the feistiness of the other characters in the play, will be a sharp jab every time I venture into self-pity.
10. Its a good play.
So. There. I've made my decision. My next post will be an overview of themes and motivations in the play. I expect to be able to put that together sometime during or directly after the holiday.
Wish me... wish me something fun.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Having Fun...
All right. I've narrowed my decision down to two texts. I'm not ready for the big reveal yet... I'd like to finish re-reading them before I get started on the nitty-gritty. With the holidays and all, I don't have too much time to spare. In fact, I've been trying to get a couple of hours to myself for the last 4 days and have been wildly unsuccessful.
Rest assured. I will make good on my promise. After Turkey Day I will announce the text I will be working with and start with the good stuff.
Rest assured. I will make good on my promise. After Turkey Day I will announce the text I will be working with and start with the good stuff.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Let's Have Some Fun
To quote one of my favorite Kids in the Hall sketches, "I'm in a rut deep enough to hang up posters."
I am. I knew this was coming the day I peed on the stick. I knew that the first year of favored son #2's life would be marked by two things that make me supremely miserable, 1) lack of personal time 2) a monotonous routine of much dreaded, mind-numbing tasks. So I have decided to keep up both my spirits and my chops by taking up a dense script and difficult character to study in my "spare time". I will use this blog to work out some of my thoughts on text and character step by step. It'll be fun!
Now, all that remains is for me to choose a text and a character. I could play with Macbeth- that's always a favorite of mine. It's dark, sexy and it challenges the actor to create humans from monsters. That's a favorite theme for me. I'd do Richard III, but Pacino already covered that and I don't think I could add much more. There's always Tennessee Williams. (God, I'm old enough to play Blanche! Yikes!) Or maybe I could get into some Lorca. I've been meaning to pick up Yerma for a while, perhaps now is as good a time as any? Then there's The House of Bernarda Alba, which would give me the rare opportunity to look at multiple female characters. Chekhov is always a good exercise in building given circumstances. Maybe I should look at Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Martha would be a big challenge for me.
I'm going to sit on it for a day and then commit myself to studying the play I choose and preparing some text for myself to work on its feet. I will detail my process step by step. I've never tried to document my process before. Perhaps I will find some gaping holes in my methodology. Maybe I will find a way to communicate the process in a personal and definitive way. One thing is certain... I will be making time to fit something very important into my crazy, boring days.
Holy bananas. I am really looking forward to this!
I am. I knew this was coming the day I peed on the stick. I knew that the first year of favored son #2's life would be marked by two things that make me supremely miserable, 1) lack of personal time 2) a monotonous routine of much dreaded, mind-numbing tasks. So I have decided to keep up both my spirits and my chops by taking up a dense script and difficult character to study in my "spare time". I will use this blog to work out some of my thoughts on text and character step by step. It'll be fun!
Now, all that remains is for me to choose a text and a character. I could play with Macbeth- that's always a favorite of mine. It's dark, sexy and it challenges the actor to create humans from monsters. That's a favorite theme for me. I'd do Richard III, but Pacino already covered that and I don't think I could add much more. There's always Tennessee Williams. (God, I'm old enough to play Blanche! Yikes!) Or maybe I could get into some Lorca. I've been meaning to pick up Yerma for a while, perhaps now is as good a time as any? Then there's The House of Bernarda Alba, which would give me the rare opportunity to look at multiple female characters. Chekhov is always a good exercise in building given circumstances. Maybe I should look at Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Martha would be a big challenge for me.
I'm going to sit on it for a day and then commit myself to studying the play I choose and preparing some text for myself to work on its feet. I will detail my process step by step. I've never tried to document my process before. Perhaps I will find some gaping holes in my methodology. Maybe I will find a way to communicate the process in a personal and definitive way. One thing is certain... I will be making time to fit something very important into my crazy, boring days.
Holy bananas. I am really looking forward to this!
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Dear Obama,
Last night was amazing. It has been a long time since I have felt so good, and you... you said all the right things. I think I got carried away in the moment. We both did. We said a lot of things to one another in the heat of the moment. I don't regret them. Not at all. However, now that the sobriety of daylight hours is upon us I feel shy and a bit distant.
What you need to understand about me (as cliche as it sounds) is that I am just coming out of a very difficult relationship. He was charming and had a manly swagger that made him seem so different from the rest. I threw caution to the wind and became embroiled in an 8 year nightmare. He lied to me and chipped away at my self-esteem by trying to tell me that shopping would make everything better. He dismissed all of my concerns and, in the end, I forgot that I had rights of my own. He had convinced me that I should abdicate my rights and my responsibilities because he was stronger and he would take care of me. But when I needed him, he wasn't there. I lost my home. I lost my job... I don't mean to go on and on about it. My only point is to tell you why I am so leery of a new relationship right now.
I will admit that it is hard not falling in love with you. You're intelligent, accomplished and so confident. I've been burned by confidence before. I'm taking this slow because I don't want to put all of my faith in you only to have you betray me. I can handle it if you make an honest mistake, but I don't think I can take it if you deliberately hurt me. My therapist says that I need to rebuild my faith in myself so if you mess up it need not be a reflection on me. I'm trying.
I guess what I am saying, what I need to say out loud as many times as it takes until I believe it, is that you cannot save me. Only I can save me. I need to assert my own, personal power and solve the problems I need to solve. You can support me but I cannot place all of my hopes and my burdens on you because the only one who can truly heal me is me. If you prove to be a good support, I will cherish our relationship. If you don't, well, Gloria Gaynor said it best. I will survive.
I have voted for you. You talk a great game. If you are truly good for me you won't ever let me forget that the true power rests with me. You are not my savior but my servant. That is the relationship I want. It is the relationship I deserve. I hope you really meant it when you said, "Yes we can" because I did.
Love,
The United States of America
What you need to understand about me (as cliche as it sounds) is that I am just coming out of a very difficult relationship. He was charming and had a manly swagger that made him seem so different from the rest. I threw caution to the wind and became embroiled in an 8 year nightmare. He lied to me and chipped away at my self-esteem by trying to tell me that shopping would make everything better. He dismissed all of my concerns and, in the end, I forgot that I had rights of my own. He had convinced me that I should abdicate my rights and my responsibilities because he was stronger and he would take care of me. But when I needed him, he wasn't there. I lost my home. I lost my job... I don't mean to go on and on about it. My only point is to tell you why I am so leery of a new relationship right now.
I will admit that it is hard not falling in love with you. You're intelligent, accomplished and so confident. I've been burned by confidence before. I'm taking this slow because I don't want to put all of my faith in you only to have you betray me. I can handle it if you make an honest mistake, but I don't think I can take it if you deliberately hurt me. My therapist says that I need to rebuild my faith in myself so if you mess up it need not be a reflection on me. I'm trying.
I guess what I am saying, what I need to say out loud as many times as it takes until I believe it, is that you cannot save me. Only I can save me. I need to assert my own, personal power and solve the problems I need to solve. You can support me but I cannot place all of my hopes and my burdens on you because the only one who can truly heal me is me. If you prove to be a good support, I will cherish our relationship. If you don't, well, Gloria Gaynor said it best. I will survive.
I have voted for you. You talk a great game. If you are truly good for me you won't ever let me forget that the true power rests with me. You are not my savior but my servant. That is the relationship I want. It is the relationship I deserve. I hope you really meant it when you said, "Yes we can" because I did.
Love,
The United States of America
Friday, October 24, 2008
W.
Meh.
It's an Oliver Stone film.
Before going to see it I had assumed that all the good press for this film was due to widespread surprise that Stone didn't string ol' Georgie up by his nut sack and piss on him. All the interviews I saw with Mr. Stone were marked by words like "even handed" and "fair" regarding the film's portrayal of our current President. Admittedly, if I hadn't expected such an "even handed", nay even sympathetic, picture- I might have been more pleasantly surprised by my matinee viewing.
But I wasn't.
Indeed, W. is a sympathetic portrait of a man in over his head. However, Stone's film carries all the hallmarks of a muck raker's restraint as he struggles to make a monster into a man. W. is rife with pity and cheap, armchair psychology. There is little insight in the script beyond a high schooler's interpretation of a Wikipedia page on Oedipal complex. We all know W. was the wayward Bush and it is not difficult to imagine how hard it must be to live in a powerful man's shadow. I didn't need 2 hours and 11 minutes to be told what I already understand.
Josh Brolin does give a fine performance and the supporting cast was quite good at what they were asked to do. Clearly, they were asked to walk and talk like the people we see on the news everyday. They did just that, but no more was asked of them. The cast, as a whole, was uncanny in their likeness to the real-life characters. Excellent speech and physical work was done by all- but there was no room in the script for them to be anything other than props to enliven the reality of the title character's experience. There was no examination of their motivations or relationships with one another or with W himself. With one notable exception. Ellen Burstyn was somewhat out of place in her few scenes because it seemed she was trying to squeeze a little bit more out of the script and character than her cohorts. In fact, her physicality was defiantly unBarbara Bush, but her emotional choices were quite clear.
I have to say, I was shocked to find myself uncomfortable with the scenes depicting George and Laura as a normal couple who occasionally find themselves having important discussions in their underwear. One particular scene features W chatting with Laura on the toilet. I think the intent was to humanize W even more, but as an issue of taste I feel it was gratuitous and somewhat disrespectful. I am no fan of this President or his administration but I have no desire to watch our President take a dump.
Bio-pics are always a bit dicey. When one decides to fictionalize a real person's life they are apt to play fast and loose with history to achieve dramatic ends. As one who values truth and history, I have to say that I see this as a dangerous practice. There is a scene where Richard Dreyfus's Cheney gives a speech about controlling oil so "...no one will fuck with us again...". This scene was placed there for expediency- to clue us in to the filmmaker's view of the administration and not necessarily the historical character's view. I fear all too few viewers will make that distinction and Stone's widely and easily consumed version of history will become fact. In my humble opinion, that is a disservice to history and truth.
But, it's an Oliver Stone film.
Meh.
It's an Oliver Stone film.
Before going to see it I had assumed that all the good press for this film was due to widespread surprise that Stone didn't string ol' Georgie up by his nut sack and piss on him. All the interviews I saw with Mr. Stone were marked by words like "even handed" and "fair" regarding the film's portrayal of our current President. Admittedly, if I hadn't expected such an "even handed", nay even sympathetic, picture- I might have been more pleasantly surprised by my matinee viewing.
But I wasn't.
Indeed, W. is a sympathetic portrait of a man in over his head. However, Stone's film carries all the hallmarks of a muck raker's restraint as he struggles to make a monster into a man. W. is rife with pity and cheap, armchair psychology. There is little insight in the script beyond a high schooler's interpretation of a Wikipedia page on Oedipal complex. We all know W. was the wayward Bush and it is not difficult to imagine how hard it must be to live in a powerful man's shadow. I didn't need 2 hours and 11 minutes to be told what I already understand.
Josh Brolin does give a fine performance and the supporting cast was quite good at what they were asked to do. Clearly, they were asked to walk and talk like the people we see on the news everyday. They did just that, but no more was asked of them. The cast, as a whole, was uncanny in their likeness to the real-life characters. Excellent speech and physical work was done by all- but there was no room in the script for them to be anything other than props to enliven the reality of the title character's experience. There was no examination of their motivations or relationships with one another or with W himself. With one notable exception. Ellen Burstyn was somewhat out of place in her few scenes because it seemed she was trying to squeeze a little bit more out of the script and character than her cohorts. In fact, her physicality was defiantly unBarbara Bush, but her emotional choices were quite clear.
I have to say, I was shocked to find myself uncomfortable with the scenes depicting George and Laura as a normal couple who occasionally find themselves having important discussions in their underwear. One particular scene features W chatting with Laura on the toilet. I think the intent was to humanize W even more, but as an issue of taste I feel it was gratuitous and somewhat disrespectful. I am no fan of this President or his administration but I have no desire to watch our President take a dump.
Bio-pics are always a bit dicey. When one decides to fictionalize a real person's life they are apt to play fast and loose with history to achieve dramatic ends. As one who values truth and history, I have to say that I see this as a dangerous practice. There is a scene where Richard Dreyfus's Cheney gives a speech about controlling oil so "...no one will fuck with us again...". This scene was placed there for expediency- to clue us in to the filmmaker's view of the administration and not necessarily the historical character's view. I fear all too few viewers will make that distinction and Stone's widely and easily consumed version of history will become fact. In my humble opinion, that is a disservice to history and truth.
But, it's an Oliver Stone film.
Meh.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
The Struggles of Year Number 1
There is definitely a reason why I waited for nearly 7 years to have another kid.
I am an incredibly selfish person. I like having a few minutes to myself. I like being able to day dream- to be in my own little world staring into the reflecting pool of my soul and contemplating my place in the universe. I like to watch movies with swearing. I don't particularly care for mundane tasks. I do not romanticize motherhood- even though I adore my children and delight in their progress as human beings. But, I miss participating in my art. It makes me cranky and decidedly "unfun" to be torn away from my creative outlets.
When my eldest was a toddler, I had a conversation with another mother in the park who was complaining about her husband. He had come home from work and then made some snotty comment to the effect of "Gee, I wish I could spend all day in the park hanging out with my friends, drinking coffee and playing with my kids...". Her response? "Yeah, it's great. It's only sucking the soul right out of my body."
I'll let that comment stand.
It is the most bizarre and complicated ball of emotions. On one hand there is pride, love, joy, excitement and all the warm fuzzies a person could want. On the other, there is resentment, frustration, isolation, sadness, and guilt. A lot of guilt. These are the things I warn my girlfriends about as I watch them consider single parenthood as an option. (SAVE YOURSELVES! DON'T DO IT! Life with a partner to share the workload is hard enough!) Perhaps if I had taken more time to work on my career before I had kids, maybe then I would be able to afford some help so that I could go out and pursue my art. Maybe that is the cause of the negativity. Regardless, I am in the situation I am in and I just need to be more creative. I can do that, but the first year of life is so tiring and I also have to be realistic about my limitations.
It's not all bad. It really isn't. I just happen to get exhausted after having had to lug 14 pounds of human being everywhere for 24 hours straight (and I do mean everywhere!) and not having a minute to collect myself. On top of that physical drain is the emotional battle with a 7 year old who wishes he was a baby again. He weighs a lot more than 14 pounds! A person can only be loving and understanding for so long without reciprocity! After that, you just need to hide in the bathroom for 20 minutes.
Or vent on a blog.
God, that's embarrassing.
I am an incredibly selfish person. I like having a few minutes to myself. I like being able to day dream- to be in my own little world staring into the reflecting pool of my soul and contemplating my place in the universe. I like to watch movies with swearing. I don't particularly care for mundane tasks. I do not romanticize motherhood- even though I adore my children and delight in their progress as human beings. But, I miss participating in my art. It makes me cranky and decidedly "unfun" to be torn away from my creative outlets.
When my eldest was a toddler, I had a conversation with another mother in the park who was complaining about her husband. He had come home from work and then made some snotty comment to the effect of "Gee, I wish I could spend all day in the park hanging out with my friends, drinking coffee and playing with my kids...". Her response? "Yeah, it's great. It's only sucking the soul right out of my body."
I'll let that comment stand.
It is the most bizarre and complicated ball of emotions. On one hand there is pride, love, joy, excitement and all the warm fuzzies a person could want. On the other, there is resentment, frustration, isolation, sadness, and guilt. A lot of guilt. These are the things I warn my girlfriends about as I watch them consider single parenthood as an option. (SAVE YOURSELVES! DON'T DO IT! Life with a partner to share the workload is hard enough!) Perhaps if I had taken more time to work on my career before I had kids, maybe then I would be able to afford some help so that I could go out and pursue my art. Maybe that is the cause of the negativity. Regardless, I am in the situation I am in and I just need to be more creative. I can do that, but the first year of life is so tiring and I also have to be realistic about my limitations.
It's not all bad. It really isn't. I just happen to get exhausted after having had to lug 14 pounds of human being everywhere for 24 hours straight (and I do mean everywhere!) and not having a minute to collect myself. On top of that physical drain is the emotional battle with a 7 year old who wishes he was a baby again. He weighs a lot more than 14 pounds! A person can only be loving and understanding for so long without reciprocity! After that, you just need to hide in the bathroom for 20 minutes.
Or vent on a blog.
God, that's embarrassing.
Friday, August 22, 2008
What is Tom Skerritt's Lifestyle?
I used to be obsessed with Tom Skerritt. It wasn't that I liked him or his movies or even that I hated him or his movies. I was just fascinated that an actor could work so much and still avoid the spotlight. Most people don't even know who the hell he is- until they see a picture and then they say "OOOOHH! THAT guy!"The guy has been working for decades and yet he is never talked about. He's worked in every medium. He's won awards. He's worked with big stars in big movies and yet who among us can say we've heard a lot (or any) buzz about Tom Skerritt? Who is out there eagerly awaiting the next Tom Skerritt project? (Which happens to be Whiteout- due out next year...) Either he is intensely private and really, really good at guarding that privacy or he just doesn't do anything too crazy or no one really cares. I just can't wrap my mind around his career. How does an actor work that much without the benefit of press? It isn't that he is such a chameleon that you would never know it was him- he's had that mustache and suave haircut since time began. He is distinctively Tom Skerritt. He must be an absolute joy to work with... no one who isn't an A-List actor could pull off a career like that and be a total jackass.
I really can't stop thinking about it. What kind of house does he live in? What are his kids like? What is a day in the life of Tom Skerritt like? Who does he hang out with? Information about the highest paid actors and their lifestyles is easy to come by and we've all been waited on by actors on the lowest end of the scale, but what is it like to be Tom Skerritt?
These are the thoughts that keep me up at night.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Brando Experience
As a young actor immersed in study I loved Brando. Nearly every method trained actor does- excepting those with a chip on their shoulder and something to prove (we'll discuss THAT in a future post, I suppose) - because to look at Brando's fiery work in his younger days is to look upon some of the most complex acting creations in American performing history. Not to mention that Brando's young physique is one of the most beautiful specimens of manhood ever to walk the planet. I could watch Brando over and over again, from A Streetcar Named Desire to Last Tango in Parisand I never found him anything but bold and honest. That scene in Last Tango in Paris where he talks to his dead wife is so brutal, especially knowing what we know about Brando's personal life. It was impossible to understand, as a student, why such a brilliant actor would turn on his craft and call it all bullshit. It offended me to my core that someone with such talent would dismiss what he had worked so hard to become.
Of course, the older I get and the more immersed I become in day to day living the more I understand about Brando's disdain for the craft. When the first organic thoughts of "that's bullshit" entered my mind I almost keeled over from shock. The further my family life took me from the dirty rehearsal studios, cramped dressing rooms and masturbatory post-show drinking sessions the more I could see how deeply actors wade in their own self-important excrement. I began to despise the whole thing. I hated actors, I hated plays, writers irritated me, autuers made me want to pull out my hair in bloody clumps and set myself on fire. It all seemed so obnoxiously elitist and arrogant and I did not want to encourage that part of myself. Oh and it is a large part of me. It causes me great shame. I started to see what Brando had been getting at- I think...
When you are a young actor facing some daunting statistics regarding your future employment (or lack thereof) your mentors will mostly say things like, "We are lucky to get to do what we do. You have to be exceptionally strong to follow your passion against such odds". They paint a highly romantic picture about suffering for truth and art and how important it is. Everything loses perspective and suddenly everything in life is seen through an almost adolescent prism of art and that which is personal suddenly becomes public display. It is your duty to "use" yourself, your experience, for the cause of truth! What they neglect to mention is that it is just a job. It is a rewarding and fun job that requires great skill and commitment, but it is just a job.
One never hears lawyers, doctors, financial analysts or teachers discussing their work with such religious ferocity. Well, perhaps teachers, but teachers are passionate about teaching to lift up their pupils- not themselves. In acting the actor himself becomes the subject of his own religious fervor. He is his own deity. Frankly, that is a little difficult to live with. (My apologies to my husband!) Not only is it difficult for those who love the actor, but it becomes a burden to the actor him/herself. Look at what happened to Marilyn Monroe and Judy Garland. Without proper perspective regarding the place of entertainment within the scope of the Universe an actor can and will implode. We are not built to withstand such self-scrutiny!
I am not saying that we should avoid introspection or examination of our past experiences. I believe there is a level at which the craft is therapeutic. But I've met actors who, even when low on the fame totem pole, have fallen victim to the pressures the craft can exert on a person. There is something wrong about selling your life, your essence for the amusement of others. Which brings me back to that scene in Last Tango in Paris that is just so brutal. Knowing what we know about Brando's tragic family life, this scene begins to topple. It is by turns both beautifully honest and a horrible prostitution of pain. I can't look away. I feel something. It is naked and real, but a human's nakedness (both figurative and literal) can be a celebration or it can be a degradation. It is so difficult to figure out which is which and so often so many of us are degraded and what is worse is that we DO IT TO OURSELVES! Is it worth it? What we give- do we get back? Not just in little gold- plated statuettes, but in reception. Does the audience open up and understand? Do we achieve any kind of acceptance on any real level? Does the world change? Is it really worth the price we pay?
Then again, do we really have to pay that price? Can we act, be honest and personal but still maintain some privacy? Can we maintain the dignity of the form without plumping up our egos with the cheap currency of celebrity?
I'm not willing to give up on the form. I still love the process. I still love taking a great script, pulling it apart and putting it back together again. I love what I learn in rehearsals. I just need to figure out why it ever needs to be performed and how to do so without selling myself or my castmates too cheaply. Then I watch this scene and I feel so... human.
I like feeling human.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Satire School
Frankly, enough has been said about the political implications of this cover in the last 24 hours to last the rest of the campaign. I'm not interested in the political fallout here. (Well, I am- just not within the context of this blog.) However, this does give me the opportunity to talk about the joys and the dangers of satire. It is not clear who or what this cartoon is attempting to skewer. Apparently, the artist was trying to communicate the ridiculousness of the rumors surrounding the Obamas. The editor has defended the cover saying that it was so over-the-top that no one could possibly see it as anything other than humor. Unfortunately, since people really DO believe these things about the Obamas the cover would not seem that far-fetched to 12% of the population- according to a poll conducted by The Pew Research Center. If this were not the case, The New Yorker would have no reason to even run the cartoon on the last page. Funnier still is that those are the people least likely to read The New Yorker so they could learn more about the cover story. But they will see the cover at the news stand.
Where the New Yorker went wrong, in my humble opinion, is not in the subject matter but in the designation of the subject. Since the artwork does not depict the type of person who believes such untruths the message is that the New Yorker and its readers endorse these beliefs- thereby legitimizing those rumors as fact. An easy way to solve the problem is to use the cliche thought bubble- attributing the beliefs to someone other than The New Yorker itself. Of course, the problem with that is how do you portray such a population without coming off as elitist and judgmental? How would that message be received if the cover had portrayed a slack jawed yokel (clinging to his gun and Bible, perhaps?) watching FOX News and imagining the Obamas as such? Then the focus would not be on the rumors about the Obamas (although they would be reinforced just by having that image out there) but on the unflattering image of rural America and the prejudice of elitist, urban liberals who work at the New Yorker.
Perhaps we SHOULD focus for a moment on the prejudices of elitist, urban liberals. You see, no matter what cartoon was chosen to be on the cover to convey that particular cultural disconnect the joke is, at its heart, an elitist one. It is a private and angry chuckle for the intellectuals who read the New Yorker which allows them to feel superior over the ignorant masses. Perhaps a more effective cartoon would be to have three thought bubbles. The first depicting a latte liberal imagining the slack jawed yokel imagining the Obamas. The best satire sheds light on whole and uncomfortable truths- not just selective ones. We all shoulder some responsibility for the divide in this country- even the "enlightened" and self-satisfied urban liberal. Over simplifying the fears of 12% of the population does nothing to dispel them. In fact- it adds to the further entrenchment of the belief.
That is the sin of The New Yorker. It does not step back far enough to see what this anxiety is truly about and therefor cannot possibly make a sharp or witty observation about it. It simply strokes itself for being smart enough to "get it". Unfortunately, it seems that only The New Yorker staff got the joke. The rest of us can only stand back and stammer at its stupidity.
Anyway, the biggest truth of all is that New Yorker cartoons have never really been that funny- but that was already addressed on an episode of Seinfeld.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Fly Over Paranoia
It is no secret that the vast majority of the United States harbors an ugly resentment against "the Coasts". Namely New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles. When loose tongues are wagging you'll hear people say terrible things about the Jews in New York, the Gays in San Francisco and the money grubbing demons of immorality who run the entertainment industry in LA. To a certain extent, our fly over brethren are not necessarily wrong to be so bent out of shape- after all the majority of popular entertainment tends to narcissistically focus its energies on New York and LA for its characters and story lines and largely ignores what is going on in the rest of the country.
What fly over states may not know is that a lot of New Yorkers (in particular) are terrified of the rest of the country. New Yorkers are comfortable with their junkies, but the tweakers really scare them. New Yorkers can function (admittedly, it can be begrudgingly...) with Hasidim, Muslim, Catholic, Buddhist and Atheist populations living and working together- but the Evangelicals are enough to make the average New Yorker want to duck into a Satanist S & M parlor for safe harbor. We have religion here, but most New Yorkers would feel uncomfortable being confronted by a highway sign telling them to repent- regardless of their religious affiliation.
We fear.
That's the bottom line. Anything that is unfamiliar causes anxiety and anxiety can cause any human to jump to irrational and illogical conclusions.
Yesterday I was watching some interviews on YouTube with West Virginians about the recent primary. I'll admit that listening to these opinions made my heart race and I began to perspire. Just listening to these different perceptions caused my body to have a mild stress reaction. I wanted to scream and shake them. One woman insisted that Obama was Muslim and she didn't like that. When the interviewer corrected her and told her that he is NOT a Muslim she just closed her eyes, shook her head and said, "I don't agree with that" as if the facts were somehow able to rearrange themselves by the force of her opinion. I was angry and I wanted to reach into the screen and throttle her. Her resistance to the facts that have been available for years (the man has published two very personal books detailing his upbringing and influences for crying out loud!) made me angry and scared. I then commented to my husband that Obama probably made the right choice to concede West Virginia and not make a glut of personal appearances there because they might have shot him on the spot.
Of course- that was MY FEAR talking.
Not everyone who thinks a certain way is a gun toting radical with an itchy trigger finger. Upon closer inspection, I probably would have found this woman to be someone who was shaken by the horror of 9/11 (who wasn't?) and who has probably never met or even seen a Muslim in person before. I'm sure that the culture of racial division that is still common in some parts of the country- West Virginia reportedly being one of those places- made it difficult for this woman to see in Obama what some other people see in him. It is so much safer to take in only the information that conforms with your world view and act on that. I've done that with her. It conforms with my world view to think that she is an idiot redneck. Whereas, she may be a woman who has found herself faced with a myriad of economic and social challenges that are now foreign to her. In the last decade, the world has become a much scarier place. Can I blame her for trying to protect herself from perceived threats? Isn't that what we all do? Isn't that why I will not be considering West Virginia as a vacation spot anytime in the near future?
My point in discussing this is not to deal with the election, necessarily. Rather it is to bring up empathy. Empathy is a powerful thing - not just in personal relations or politics but in storytelling. Storytelling, as you may have noticed, is one of my chief concerns. Recently, I read a screenplay about domestic violence. (Sadly, I read a lot of scripts about domestic violence and more than a few of them fit this particular description...) I found it cliche and since it lacked any real insight into the characters' behavior I wondered why anyone would want to watch such a thing. The screenwriter had written the script based on memories of incidents that happened to his neighbors and his parents' friends as he was growing up. He had already formed an opinion of these people and he wrote the script to pass judgement on them. That was clear from the first scene. Since he lacked any empathy for the characters he was able to write this orgy of violence and insult that bordered on the pornographic. He had become so obsessed with the imagery of violence that he neglected to motivate it in any understandable way. It was kinky in its lack of compassion for the characters and their plight and worse yet- it tried to pass off its judgement of the characters as some sort of moral high ground. The voice of the writer was smug and superior. So I asked him- if you don't struggle to understand and feel for these people, then why should I? And if you don't want your audience to care for these people, what do you expect your audience to walk away with? What will they learn about the characters? What will they learn about themselves? If they walk away with a feeling of superiority over these characters haven't you just given your audience permission to ignore what you profess to shine a light on?
To his credit, this screenwriter heard me out and went back to re-writes. It takes a bold writer to do that. It takes a brave person to stretch themselves to try to understand the incomprehensible. That is what a writer needs to do. That is what an actor needs to do. Circumstance can conspire to make monsters of us all and if we want to fight that- if we really want to become better people we need stories that challenge us to empathize. I'm not pimping any kind of moral relativism here- as some have accused me in the past. There is a difference between understanding and condoning. But if you understand what you are up against you will understand how to put up a resistance. Especially if the monster that emerges surprises you by emerging from within.
What fly over states may not know is that a lot of New Yorkers (in particular) are terrified of the rest of the country. New Yorkers are comfortable with their junkies, but the tweakers really scare them. New Yorkers can function (admittedly, it can be begrudgingly...) with Hasidim, Muslim, Catholic, Buddhist and Atheist populations living and working together- but the Evangelicals are enough to make the average New Yorker want to duck into a Satanist S & M parlor for safe harbor. We have religion here, but most New Yorkers would feel uncomfortable being confronted by a highway sign telling them to repent- regardless of their religious affiliation.
We fear.
That's the bottom line. Anything that is unfamiliar causes anxiety and anxiety can cause any human to jump to irrational and illogical conclusions.
Yesterday I was watching some interviews on YouTube with West Virginians about the recent primary. I'll admit that listening to these opinions made my heart race and I began to perspire. Just listening to these different perceptions caused my body to have a mild stress reaction. I wanted to scream and shake them. One woman insisted that Obama was Muslim and she didn't like that. When the interviewer corrected her and told her that he is NOT a Muslim she just closed her eyes, shook her head and said, "I don't agree with that" as if the facts were somehow able to rearrange themselves by the force of her opinion. I was angry and I wanted to reach into the screen and throttle her. Her resistance to the facts that have been available for years (the man has published two very personal books detailing his upbringing and influences for crying out loud!) made me angry and scared. I then commented to my husband that Obama probably made the right choice to concede West Virginia and not make a glut of personal appearances there because they might have shot him on the spot.
Of course- that was MY FEAR talking.
Not everyone who thinks a certain way is a gun toting radical with an itchy trigger finger. Upon closer inspection, I probably would have found this woman to be someone who was shaken by the horror of 9/11 (who wasn't?) and who has probably never met or even seen a Muslim in person before. I'm sure that the culture of racial division that is still common in some parts of the country- West Virginia reportedly being one of those places- made it difficult for this woman to see in Obama what some other people see in him. It is so much safer to take in only the information that conforms with your world view and act on that. I've done that with her. It conforms with my world view to think that she is an idiot redneck. Whereas, she may be a woman who has found herself faced with a myriad of economic and social challenges that are now foreign to her. In the last decade, the world has become a much scarier place. Can I blame her for trying to protect herself from perceived threats? Isn't that what we all do? Isn't that why I will not be considering West Virginia as a vacation spot anytime in the near future?
My point in discussing this is not to deal with the election, necessarily. Rather it is to bring up empathy. Empathy is a powerful thing - not just in personal relations or politics but in storytelling. Storytelling, as you may have noticed, is one of my chief concerns. Recently, I read a screenplay about domestic violence. (Sadly, I read a lot of scripts about domestic violence and more than a few of them fit this particular description...) I found it cliche and since it lacked any real insight into the characters' behavior I wondered why anyone would want to watch such a thing. The screenwriter had written the script based on memories of incidents that happened to his neighbors and his parents' friends as he was growing up. He had already formed an opinion of these people and he wrote the script to pass judgement on them. That was clear from the first scene. Since he lacked any empathy for the characters he was able to write this orgy of violence and insult that bordered on the pornographic. He had become so obsessed with the imagery of violence that he neglected to motivate it in any understandable way. It was kinky in its lack of compassion for the characters and their plight and worse yet- it tried to pass off its judgement of the characters as some sort of moral high ground. The voice of the writer was smug and superior. So I asked him- if you don't struggle to understand and feel for these people, then why should I? And if you don't want your audience to care for these people, what do you expect your audience to walk away with? What will they learn about the characters? What will they learn about themselves? If they walk away with a feeling of superiority over these characters haven't you just given your audience permission to ignore what you profess to shine a light on?
To his credit, this screenwriter heard me out and went back to re-writes. It takes a bold writer to do that. It takes a brave person to stretch themselves to try to understand the incomprehensible. That is what a writer needs to do. That is what an actor needs to do. Circumstance can conspire to make monsters of us all and if we want to fight that- if we really want to become better people we need stories that challenge us to empathize. I'm not pimping any kind of moral relativism here- as some have accused me in the past. There is a difference between understanding and condoning. But if you understand what you are up against you will understand how to put up a resistance. Especially if the monster that emerges surprises you by emerging from within.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Economy of Words- Dashiell Hammett
There is something so impressive to me about a writer who has the confidence to write economically. Currently I am combing through the pages of Dashiell Hammett's romantic mystery/ comedy The Thin Man. I am struck by his amazing ability to convey mood, character, subtext, plot and relationship in such short, fast chapters with so few words.
Hammett is direct without being clinical or dull. There are no words wasted for the sake of adornment or ego. It is easy to see why The Thin Man translated so well to film because Hammett's gift is for dialogue. Hammett lets the reader get to know the relationship of Nick and Nora Charles through quick exchanges that leave no question about their trust and love for one another:
Their dialogue is snappy, never sappy and always with a wink and a nod. It is a liberated relationship that exists in a masculine and drunken Utopia where feelings don't need to be discussed. Nick is a sardonic wit and Nora is his unquestioned equal. She fascinates me. For all her swagger, Nora is also distinctly feminine. I find it interesting that characters such as Nora are not more common in our post-feminist culture. In a modern writer's hands Nora would come off as loud, wild and perhaps somewhat flighty and naive. She'd be played by an underwear clad Cameron Diaz, flipping her hair and making angry squinty eyes at her drunken husband. However, in Hammett's hands Nora is sophisticated, intelligent, alluring, tough, and extraordinarily compassionate. It isn't that she is the patient, enabling wife of a drunkard who silently endures. She drinks as well as he does, but occasionally protests his constant need for liquor. She trusts him and, oddly enough, he is worthy of her trust. Nick and Nora Charles love each other- messily and admirably.
Nick tries to keep himself from becoming embroiled in the murder mystery that unfolds. He is a reluctant detective, although Nora pokes and prods him to get involved. However, her interest is not of the excitable Nancy Drew variety. Rather it is her kindness that feeds her curiosity. She genuinely cares about those involved even though she admits she may not even like the players in the drama.
The pace of each chapter is quick- but it never feels rushed. There is very little expository language and I marvel at the confidence Hammett has both in his writing style and in his audience's ability to catch the subtext. He does not feel the need to explain himself or his characters. Their actions speak for themselves. It is a novel written with immediacy in mind and does not indulge in nostalgia or in wistful pondering. It is stripped down, direct, sophisticated and, well, kind of sexy.
I'm learning a lot from Mr. Hammett. I don't think I could emulate his style, nor do I think that I necessarily should, but I am appreciative of the unapologetic directness and economy in his writing. There is something I would like to make my own.
Hammett is direct without being clinical or dull. There are no words wasted for the sake of adornment or ego. It is easy to see why The Thin Man translated so well to film because Hammett's gift is for dialogue. Hammett lets the reader get to know the relationship of Nick and Nora Charles through quick exchanges that leave no question about their trust and love for one another:
We found a table. Nora said: "She's pretty."
"If you like them like that."
She grinned at me. "You got types?"
"Only you, darling- lanky brunettes with wicked jaws."
"And how about the red-head you wandered off with at the Quinns' last night?"
"That's silly," I said. "She just wanted to show me some French etchings."
Their dialogue is snappy, never sappy and always with a wink and a nod. It is a liberated relationship that exists in a masculine and drunken Utopia where feelings don't need to be discussed. Nick is a sardonic wit and Nora is his unquestioned equal. She fascinates me. For all her swagger, Nora is also distinctly feminine. I find it interesting that characters such as Nora are not more common in our post-feminist culture. In a modern writer's hands Nora would come off as loud, wild and perhaps somewhat flighty and naive. She'd be played by an underwear clad Cameron Diaz, flipping her hair and making angry squinty eyes at her drunken husband. However, in Hammett's hands Nora is sophisticated, intelligent, alluring, tough, and extraordinarily compassionate. It isn't that she is the patient, enabling wife of a drunkard who silently endures. She drinks as well as he does, but occasionally protests his constant need for liquor. She trusts him and, oddly enough, he is worthy of her trust. Nick and Nora Charles love each other- messily and admirably.
Nick tries to keep himself from becoming embroiled in the murder mystery that unfolds. He is a reluctant detective, although Nora pokes and prods him to get involved. However, her interest is not of the excitable Nancy Drew variety. Rather it is her kindness that feeds her curiosity. She genuinely cares about those involved even though she admits she may not even like the players in the drama.
The pace of each chapter is quick- but it never feels rushed. There is very little expository language and I marvel at the confidence Hammett has both in his writing style and in his audience's ability to catch the subtext. He does not feel the need to explain himself or his characters. Their actions speak for themselves. It is a novel written with immediacy in mind and does not indulge in nostalgia or in wistful pondering. It is stripped down, direct, sophisticated and, well, kind of sexy.
I'm learning a lot from Mr. Hammett. I don't think I could emulate his style, nor do I think that I necessarily should, but I am appreciative of the unapologetic directness and economy in his writing. There is something I would like to make my own.
Friday, May 02, 2008
The Seven Year Rule - Writer's Edition
Ah yes, more of the seven year rule. I can't seem to get enough of that rule these days.
All of my thinking about the seven year rule has become jumbled. I am very clear on the rule as an actor. As I've stated in previous posts, I have found the seven year rule to be useful when working on a role. Distance from a particular emotional trauma helps me to have control over my choices- it allows me physical freedom and emotional objectivity as I piece a character's life together. However, things get a little murky when I consider the seven year rule as it pertains to my writing.
Should the seven year rule apply to my writing as well? Granted, writing is a private activity and I can prune and edit for as long as I wish (usually not very long at all- I'm not the most patient writer.) and it is okay if I hit a sore spot and cry myself drier than the Mojave. I can always come back to it and no one would be any the wiser. Or would they?
One of my biggest concerns is self-indulgence. Self-indulgence can color an artist's ability to effectively communicate ideas. When a story becomes more about eliciting an emotional response than it is about challenging assumptions and asking hard questions then the story itself becomes a masturbatory exercise. Emotional responses do not make great stories. How many people have you ever seen choke up at the mention of Sophie's Choice only to admit that it was "just okay"? The manipulation of circumstances brings about an overwhelming amount of emotion, but if there are no insights, no questions, no challenges, we learn nothing from the experience beyond "wow, that made me sad". So, is it possible to challenge yourself as a writer to write something immediate to your experience without drowning in it? Or is that simply journaling for the public?
There is something quite valuable in journals. I just wonder if they should be for public consumption. Distance and time do allow for humor to develop, and within that humor comes palatable insight. By that, I mean that humor is one of the most effective ways to communicate difficult ideas. Humor disarms the reader/ viewer and difficult messages can often sneak in and burrow themselves into the audience member's subconscious- allowing them to take in something that may have been too offensive or too painful were it delivered in a more "serious" fashion. My favorite example of this is that Huckleberry Finn was written in Connecticut. Time and distance allow us to see what is universal and what is idiosyncratic about the characters, the time, and the place about which we are writing. This is the beginning of insight, meaning and purpose.
But what about immediacy? What about chronicling the experience in real time? Can there be insight in that? Or should the insight be allowed to deepen and mellow in complexity like a fine wine? How can we tell the difference? How do we know when is the right time to write what?
A friend of mine recently suggested that I write about pregnancy. He had complimented my "glow" and I brushed off the compliment with a cynical remark about how the "glow" was simply a by-product of my body's elevated blood levels and nothing to get too excited about as if it were a reflection of my good taste and fine upbringing. He laughed and told me that other people would find my thoughts on pregnancy entertaining. To be honest, I have been thinking about writing about pregnancy and motherhood for years. Although the perspective I would want to explore would be more about how my parents' influences, their generation, my mother's illness, and my life experiences have made me into the wife/mother/daughter that I am- or more specifically- think that I am. I have a lot of questions about the patterns I've avoided and the patterns I've continued in my life and I believe there is a fictional counterpart to me that could make a compelling character. But when will my writing about that be most effective? Now when I'm in the thick of the experience? Or later when I won't be so invested in taking myself so seriously? Or- would it just be a good exercise for me to write with the intent of keeping my eyes open to my own absurdity?
I have known writers who can do that, and do that quite effectively. Most notably, my good friend Joseph Scrimshaw has made a career of writing in the immediate. His work is riddled with questions about his current struggles in life and art. He just happens to be extraordinarily witty- so you might miss the deeper questions he asks of himself while your beer comes out your nose. (Oh, and there IS beer. There is ALWAYS beer...) That's okay. I think those questions then burrow into your brain like a horrible parasite and then resurface later. I'd be satisfied with that, but I don't quite trust myself to be able to pull that off.
While I am confident in my knowledge and understanding of the application of the seven year rule as an actor- I am not so sure about how to use it as a writer. The only way for me to really tell is to test it.
Over and over and over again.
All of my thinking about the seven year rule has become jumbled. I am very clear on the rule as an actor. As I've stated in previous posts, I have found the seven year rule to be useful when working on a role. Distance from a particular emotional trauma helps me to have control over my choices- it allows me physical freedom and emotional objectivity as I piece a character's life together. However, things get a little murky when I consider the seven year rule as it pertains to my writing.
Should the seven year rule apply to my writing as well? Granted, writing is a private activity and I can prune and edit for as long as I wish (usually not very long at all- I'm not the most patient writer.) and it is okay if I hit a sore spot and cry myself drier than the Mojave. I can always come back to it and no one would be any the wiser. Or would they?
One of my biggest concerns is self-indulgence. Self-indulgence can color an artist's ability to effectively communicate ideas. When a story becomes more about eliciting an emotional response than it is about challenging assumptions and asking hard questions then the story itself becomes a masturbatory exercise. Emotional responses do not make great stories. How many people have you ever seen choke up at the mention of Sophie's Choice only to admit that it was "just okay"? The manipulation of circumstances brings about an overwhelming amount of emotion, but if there are no insights, no questions, no challenges, we learn nothing from the experience beyond "wow, that made me sad". So, is it possible to challenge yourself as a writer to write something immediate to your experience without drowning in it? Or is that simply journaling for the public?
There is something quite valuable in journals. I just wonder if they should be for public consumption. Distance and time do allow for humor to develop, and within that humor comes palatable insight. By that, I mean that humor is one of the most effective ways to communicate difficult ideas. Humor disarms the reader/ viewer and difficult messages can often sneak in and burrow themselves into the audience member's subconscious- allowing them to take in something that may have been too offensive or too painful were it delivered in a more "serious" fashion. My favorite example of this is that Huckleberry Finn was written in Connecticut. Time and distance allow us to see what is universal and what is idiosyncratic about the characters, the time, and the place about which we are writing. This is the beginning of insight, meaning and purpose.
But what about immediacy? What about chronicling the experience in real time? Can there be insight in that? Or should the insight be allowed to deepen and mellow in complexity like a fine wine? How can we tell the difference? How do we know when is the right time to write what?
A friend of mine recently suggested that I write about pregnancy. He had complimented my "glow" and I brushed off the compliment with a cynical remark about how the "glow" was simply a by-product of my body's elevated blood levels and nothing to get too excited about as if it were a reflection of my good taste and fine upbringing. He laughed and told me that other people would find my thoughts on pregnancy entertaining. To be honest, I have been thinking about writing about pregnancy and motherhood for years. Although the perspective I would want to explore would be more about how my parents' influences, their generation, my mother's illness, and my life experiences have made me into the wife/mother/daughter that I am- or more specifically- think that I am. I have a lot of questions about the patterns I've avoided and the patterns I've continued in my life and I believe there is a fictional counterpart to me that could make a compelling character. But when will my writing about that be most effective? Now when I'm in the thick of the experience? Or later when I won't be so invested in taking myself so seriously? Or- would it just be a good exercise for me to write with the intent of keeping my eyes open to my own absurdity?
I have known writers who can do that, and do that quite effectively. Most notably, my good friend Joseph Scrimshaw has made a career of writing in the immediate. His work is riddled with questions about his current struggles in life and art. He just happens to be extraordinarily witty- so you might miss the deeper questions he asks of himself while your beer comes out your nose. (Oh, and there IS beer. There is ALWAYS beer...) That's okay. I think those questions then burrow into your brain like a horrible parasite and then resurface later. I'd be satisfied with that, but I don't quite trust myself to be able to pull that off.
While I am confident in my knowledge and understanding of the application of the seven year rule as an actor- I am not so sure about how to use it as a writer. The only way for me to really tell is to test it.
Over and over and over again.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Logic of the Dreamscape
There are types of dreams that we all have in common. Anxiety can sneak into our dreams in a number of ways- all of them fairly obvious. Who hasn't had the dream about finding yourself naked in a public place? Dreams of being in a driverless automobile are also fairly common. Slightly less common (or perhaps people just don't like to admit to it) are dreams of having to relieve certain pressing intestinal situations without having a private space to do so. Among actors the so called "Actor's Nightmare" where you find yourself onstage unrehearsed and unprepared is so common that Christopher Durang wrote a play about it. It is also normal for a pregnant woman to dream about giving birth to strange creatures (cats, monsters, giant talking pies...) thereby playing out the anxiety of waiting in her sleep. We all experience anxiety. What I find fascinating, however, is that the ways in which certain anxieties present themselves in sleep can be so similar in structure from person to person and yet still maintain the idiosyncrasies of the dreamer.
For example, a rather conservative friend of mine once confessed to me that in her public nudity dream she always finds herself in a formal setting amongst people she wishes to impress in her waking life. Others find themselves ready to give a speech back in their high school class. One woman I know who prides herself on her appearance and public presentation is mortified to find herself naked in a room with all the men she has ever met. As for me personally, the anxiety producing situation is less about where I find myself or in who's company but more about the fact that I am naked in public and no one seems to be paying any attention! Hello! I'm naked over here! Why aren't you looking at me?
Last night I had a curious combination of anxieties mingle into one dream. I was producing and directing a tribute to Carol Burnett in a packed Broadway house. At the last moment the two stars of my show ran out to get hamburgers at a restaurant with a notoriously slow wait staff. (As a side note, the two actors in the dream are friends of mine with whom I had brief producing partnerships before they succumbed to the lure of film and television in LA.) The curtain was about ready to go up and I did not have the two people that I was counting on to deliver the show. I found myself stepping onto the stage and winging it. I covered fairly well, trying to play two roles at once when I was faced with a major dilemma. I had sensed that the audience would love a good pratfall. If I timed it right the laugh would be enormous. However, I worried that I might harm my baby (Yes, I am even pregnant in my dreams). The action slowed down while I weighed my options and decided to go for it by signaling my brilliant stage manager in the wings who anticipated my needs and was ready with a crash box. I dove into the wings, the crash box went off and the crowd went crazy. I staggered back onstage to greedily accept my applause and went blank. I had nothing else. I should have graciously exited but I couldn't think of anything. So I sat down and meaningfully stared into the lights. The crowd turned on me. All the good will I had worked for was slowly ebbing away and all I could do was sit and hope that I would get a black out and fast. Well, it didn't happen. I was left hanging in the light and I could hear the crowd mumbling, "That's not funny", "What is she doing?", "That's stupid!", "Boo!". Finally the lights came down and Carol Burnett herself was kind enough to come onstage and start singing "I'm Shy" from Once Upon a Mattress. I took the opportunity to go to the burger joint to drag back my two actors for the second half. As I was leaving the theater I saw the audience breaking out tissues because they were laughing so hard they were sobbing. I immediately thought of a brilliant way to close the show and started composing in my mind a speech about the meaning of laughter. On the way I saw my sister and her husband peering into the window of a suburban kitchen to admire the bizarre turkey carving technique of a Jamaican woman. Rather than having the bird on a platter she had placed the turkey in a Baby Bjorn and was carving it toward herself. My sister and her husband were fascinated. With classic boldness my sister tapped on the window to request a demonstration. I wanted to warn them about the dangers of carving with a blade facing in the direction of your own neck but I was suddenly confused by the fact that I was standing on a warm beach and strange creatures were emerging from the sand after just being hatched. They mistook me for their mother and I had to lead them down to the ocean or they would die on the hot sands. When I finally reached the burger place, one of my actors had choked on his hamburger and the other refused to leave until her fries arrived.
That is when my alarm went off and I found myself wondering how it was all going to turn out. I hit the snooze, hoping to return to the dream and force it to some kind of resolution, but to no avail. I was unable to see if I could pull off the big closing tribute speech or if I could save my actor's life with the Hiemlich. Even so, I am pleased to say that even though the dream contained a startling number of pressing anxieties- it also gave me the opportunity to produce and direct (and act, I suppose) for a packed Broadway house! Normally my anxiety dreams place me in tiny black boxes where no one is paying much attention. At least this gave me a change of pace and a bigger sense of scale.
However, I don't recommend carving a turkey in a Baby Bjorn. That just seems dangerous.
For example, a rather conservative friend of mine once confessed to me that in her public nudity dream she always finds herself in a formal setting amongst people she wishes to impress in her waking life. Others find themselves ready to give a speech back in their high school class. One woman I know who prides herself on her appearance and public presentation is mortified to find herself naked in a room with all the men she has ever met. As for me personally, the anxiety producing situation is less about where I find myself or in who's company but more about the fact that I am naked in public and no one seems to be paying any attention! Hello! I'm naked over here! Why aren't you looking at me?
Last night I had a curious combination of anxieties mingle into one dream. I was producing and directing a tribute to Carol Burnett in a packed Broadway house. At the last moment the two stars of my show ran out to get hamburgers at a restaurant with a notoriously slow wait staff. (As a side note, the two actors in the dream are friends of mine with whom I had brief producing partnerships before they succumbed to the lure of film and television in LA.) The curtain was about ready to go up and I did not have the two people that I was counting on to deliver the show. I found myself stepping onto the stage and winging it. I covered fairly well, trying to play two roles at once when I was faced with a major dilemma. I had sensed that the audience would love a good pratfall. If I timed it right the laugh would be enormous. However, I worried that I might harm my baby (Yes, I am even pregnant in my dreams). The action slowed down while I weighed my options and decided to go for it by signaling my brilliant stage manager in the wings who anticipated my needs and was ready with a crash box. I dove into the wings, the crash box went off and the crowd went crazy. I staggered back onstage to greedily accept my applause and went blank. I had nothing else. I should have graciously exited but I couldn't think of anything. So I sat down and meaningfully stared into the lights. The crowd turned on me. All the good will I had worked for was slowly ebbing away and all I could do was sit and hope that I would get a black out and fast. Well, it didn't happen. I was left hanging in the light and I could hear the crowd mumbling, "That's not funny", "What is she doing?", "That's stupid!", "Boo!". Finally the lights came down and Carol Burnett herself was kind enough to come onstage and start singing "I'm Shy" from Once Upon a Mattress. I took the opportunity to go to the burger joint to drag back my two actors for the second half. As I was leaving the theater I saw the audience breaking out tissues because they were laughing so hard they were sobbing. I immediately thought of a brilliant way to close the show and started composing in my mind a speech about the meaning of laughter. On the way I saw my sister and her husband peering into the window of a suburban kitchen to admire the bizarre turkey carving technique of a Jamaican woman. Rather than having the bird on a platter she had placed the turkey in a Baby Bjorn and was carving it toward herself. My sister and her husband were fascinated. With classic boldness my sister tapped on the window to request a demonstration. I wanted to warn them about the dangers of carving with a blade facing in the direction of your own neck but I was suddenly confused by the fact that I was standing on a warm beach and strange creatures were emerging from the sand after just being hatched. They mistook me for their mother and I had to lead them down to the ocean or they would die on the hot sands. When I finally reached the burger place, one of my actors had choked on his hamburger and the other refused to leave until her fries arrived.
That is when my alarm went off and I found myself wondering how it was all going to turn out. I hit the snooze, hoping to return to the dream and force it to some kind of resolution, but to no avail. I was unable to see if I could pull off the big closing tribute speech or if I could save my actor's life with the Hiemlich. Even so, I am pleased to say that even though the dream contained a startling number of pressing anxieties- it also gave me the opportunity to produce and direct (and act, I suppose) for a packed Broadway house! Normally my anxiety dreams place me in tiny black boxes where no one is paying much attention. At least this gave me a change of pace and a bigger sense of scale.
However, I don't recommend carving a turkey in a Baby Bjorn. That just seems dangerous.
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