I'm in the middle of reader another blog that I follow, and since it's Valentine's Day, the writer is talking about loving everyone and being happy with what you have, and not constantly comparing your happiness or success to others.
These are all generally things I agree with, but I thought the concept of being nice to people was something that could be stressed more.
Theatre is a very small world. We all know each other. If you are a pain in the ass, we will not work with you again.
If you are awesome and fun, we will definitely work with you again. Which could lead to you having a fatter resume, or more prominent role, or larger budget.
My good friend over at The View From The Booth often sits in the lobby during auditions, and actors are often dismissive, cold, or downright rude to her, because she's just the girl in the lobby. Then they go in to the audition and are all sweet and nice to the artistic director. Well, he comes out and talks to the Booth Girl, and asks her what So-And-So was like outside of the audition. And he listens to her opinion.
You don't just have to be good in our show, we also have to put up with you for three months. Make yourself worth it.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
The Phantom of the Opera 25th Anniversay DVD
I'm so glad I bought this.
Really, I'm such a dork. I had it on pre-order from Amazon.com.
I didn't particularly enjoy the Joel Schumacher film--I thought it was tacky and overblown and lacking in intimacy. For example, "The Point of No Return" is a sexy, sexy song. Just look at the lyrics:
In my mind I have already imagined
Our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent
Hot, right? In the stage version, they are groping the hell out of each other; and even though the Phantom is completely shrouded in a cloak, you can detect his fear and excitement in being touched in a way he never has before.
In the film version, they don't even touch for half the song. They are on complete opposite sides of the stage while very distracting tango dancers twirl around in the background.
So I was thrilled when I heard they were putting out a DVD of a concert version that would feature the original staging (with some slight alterations for being on an unfamiliar stage) and the original scenic and costume design. Maria Bjornson's designs are one of the reasons this show has held up so well. Remember, it originally came out in London in 1986, and it does not look dated at all, in my opinion.
So on to the DVD. I was a little distracted at first because the acting is very big. They have a huge audience, and despite the filmed aspect, the actors are still playing to the back wall. Totally appropriate, it just took a little getting used to.
Any concerns I had about the broadness of the performances were shattered as soon as Ramin Karimloo turned up as the Phantom. He is originally Canadian, but made a name for himself for playing this role in London, and it shows why his interpretation really resonated with audiences. He's got a clear, powerful singing voice, makes bold acting choices, and has really intense emotional commitment.
Here's an excerpt from his performance of "Music of the Night" (they cut away right before the money note!):
Hadley Fraser, while adorable, makes a surprisingly douchey Raoul. During the scenes leading up to "All I Ask of You", he shows little concern for Christine, who is clearly terrified. He's like "I know we just saw a guy die, but stop freaking out about a ghost. It's totally improper. I am super rich and important, and it would not look cool for me to have a crazy girlfriend".
I've enjoying watching Sierra Boggess's career rise for the last couple years (and I want to go shopping with her. I think that would be fun). Her diction sometimes struck me as a bit odd--she's the kind of singer who favors rounder tones over accurate vowel pronunciation. But she has great tone, and her acting was great, especially after about the first quarter of the show, I could tell she was really getting into it. She gave the most passionate performance of "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" I've ever heard.
-----
Amusing story from watching the DVD: I started watching it while my stage manager roommate (and fellow Phantom fan) and our music director houseguest were out at rehearsal. They came in during the last scene, and slowly migrated over to join my in the living room. Before long the three of us were spellbound, and as the show closed, the music director shuddered and exclaimed "Chills!" We have a date to watch the whole thing together tomorrow.
Also, Ramin Karimloo and Hadley Fraser are both alumni of the recent "Les Miserables" concert, playing Enjolras and Grantaire, respectively. Karimloo was sharing the stage most of the time with a huge star as Marius, Nick Jonas, and I thought he blew him out of the water. Fraser also had a "Hey, who's that guy?" performance, which must be why we saw him again here. I like that about Cameron Mackintosh; he recognizes talent, and will continue using it.
Really, I'm such a dork. I had it on pre-order from Amazon.com.
I didn't particularly enjoy the Joel Schumacher film--I thought it was tacky and overblown and lacking in intimacy. For example, "The Point of No Return" is a sexy, sexy song. Just look at the lyrics:
In my mind I have already imagined
Our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent
Hot, right? In the stage version, they are groping the hell out of each other; and even though the Phantom is completely shrouded in a cloak, you can detect his fear and excitement in being touched in a way he never has before.
In the film version, they don't even touch for half the song. They are on complete opposite sides of the stage while very distracting tango dancers twirl around in the background.
So I was thrilled when I heard they were putting out a DVD of a concert version that would feature the original staging (with some slight alterations for being on an unfamiliar stage) and the original scenic and costume design. Maria Bjornson's designs are one of the reasons this show has held up so well. Remember, it originally came out in London in 1986, and it does not look dated at all, in my opinion.
So on to the DVD. I was a little distracted at first because the acting is very big. They have a huge audience, and despite the filmed aspect, the actors are still playing to the back wall. Totally appropriate, it just took a little getting used to.
Any concerns I had about the broadness of the performances were shattered as soon as Ramin Karimloo turned up as the Phantom. He is originally Canadian, but made a name for himself for playing this role in London, and it shows why his interpretation really resonated with audiences. He's got a clear, powerful singing voice, makes bold acting choices, and has really intense emotional commitment.
Hadley Fraser, while adorable, makes a surprisingly douchey Raoul. During the scenes leading up to "All I Ask of You", he shows little concern for Christine, who is clearly terrified. He's like "I know we just saw a guy die, but stop freaking out about a ghost. It's totally improper. I am super rich and important, and it would not look cool for me to have a crazy girlfriend".
I've enjoying watching Sierra Boggess's career rise for the last couple years (and I want to go shopping with her. I think that would be fun). Her diction sometimes struck me as a bit odd--she's the kind of singer who favors rounder tones over accurate vowel pronunciation. But she has great tone, and her acting was great, especially after about the first quarter of the show, I could tell she was really getting into it. She gave the most passionate performance of "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" I've ever heard.
-----
Amusing story from watching the DVD: I started watching it while my stage manager roommate (and fellow Phantom fan) and our music director houseguest were out at rehearsal. They came in during the last scene, and slowly migrated over to join my in the living room. Before long the three of us were spellbound, and as the show closed, the music director shuddered and exclaimed "Chills!" We have a date to watch the whole thing together tomorrow.
Also, Ramin Karimloo and Hadley Fraser are both alumni of the recent "Les Miserables" concert, playing Enjolras and Grantaire, respectively. Karimloo was sharing the stage most of the time with a huge star as Marius, Nick Jonas, and I thought he blew him out of the water. Fraser also had a "Hey, who's that guy?" performance, which must be why we saw him again here. I like that about Cameron Mackintosh; he recognizes talent, and will continue using it.
Monday, February 6, 2012
A Question From A Friend
I was inspired to start writing in particular today because I got this email from a friend, and I thought other people might find it interesting:
Theatre question for you.
This was my answer to her:
In the case of my friend's email, this was actually a big-name musical from the 60's, so the director couldn't have cut it. But perhaps this director wasn't making choices that moved the show along effectively, or it could just be a case of the show aging well. Sometimes those old chestnuts just wear out.
Theatre question for you.
I went to a play on Friday night that to put it nicely drug like slow molasses in winter. The first act was 2 hours – ohh my goodness. There were sooo many places it could have been cut.
Then, there was a 15 – 20 minute intermission and the 2nd act was another hour, which part of it should have been cut.
If a play is running 2 – 3 weeks, can a director, after the first performance or weekend, cut scenes? Surely the director had to know how long that first act is. It was so draggy it was painful. I know there’d be hurt feelings on part of the performers who were cut but heavens to betsy!
This was my answer to her:
It depends on the play; if it’s a published play that they had to license the performance rights for, then the director probably isn’t allowed to make cuts. If they’re doing an original piece, then it can go a couple of ways:True story about my friends' show, by the way. They're doing sketch comedy, and I went with a group of people on opening night. There was some REALLY funny stuff in there, but there were a few sketches that just sort of drifted off without a proper ending, and one that just completely fell flat. Plus, it was running about three sketches long. And kudos to them, instead of getting offended (which SO many artists do), they took the feedback, and made changes that make the show stronger.
-if they get feedback that the play is running long, or things aren’t working, they may make changes from one performance to another (I have some friend doing a sketch show, and they made a bunch of changes after opening night based on what the audience did and did not like)
-a lot of directors like to consider the show “locked” after their final dress rehearsal; it takes such an effort to put a show up, they may feel it’s too much strain on the actors to ask them to memorize changes. Instead, they’ll workshop the material based on this run, and apply those changes to a future run of the show
-Or, sometimes people are just too pretentious to believe that EVERYTHING they do isn’t perfect.
In the case of my friend's email, this was actually a big-name musical from the 60's, so the director couldn't have cut it. But perhaps this director wasn't making choices that moved the show along effectively, or it could just be a case of the show aging well. Sometimes those old chestnuts just wear out.
Back From The Dead
Zombie! ARrrrrgh.
No, not really.
What happened was I was working on Julius Caesar, so I had a lot of interesting things to talk about. Then I took a break, and I didn't have ANYTHING interesting to talk about. I felt like I was constantly pressuring myself to write, so I decided to forgive myself instead, and just write if I wanted to, rather than out of obligation.
Then I worked on a REALLY stressful show, so I was too busy to keep up with it, and all of my posts would've been really crabby and negative, anyway. After that I worked on a really fun holiday show, but I'd been out of the habit too long, and again, busy.
And now I'm working on something really exciting and fun, and not feeling completely slammed (my day job circumstances have changed, so I have a little more downtime/flexibility), and I finally feel like I have something to share again.
And if you're reading this, please comment! I want to know what you like to hear about. Do you like advice and useful anecdotes about working in the theater, or wacky backstage hijinks, or do you prefer insight on obscure shows that I find fascinating? Please tell me!
No, not really.
What happened was I was working on Julius Caesar, so I had a lot of interesting things to talk about. Then I took a break, and I didn't have ANYTHING interesting to talk about. I felt like I was constantly pressuring myself to write, so I decided to forgive myself instead, and just write if I wanted to, rather than out of obligation.
Then I worked on a REALLY stressful show, so I was too busy to keep up with it, and all of my posts would've been really crabby and negative, anyway. After that I worked on a really fun holiday show, but I'd been out of the habit too long, and again, busy.
And now I'm working on something really exciting and fun, and not feeling completely slammed (my day job circumstances have changed, so I have a little more downtime/flexibility), and I finally feel like I have something to share again.
And if you're reading this, please comment! I want to know what you like to hear about. Do you like advice and useful anecdotes about working in the theater, or wacky backstage hijinks, or do you prefer insight on obscure shows that I find fascinating? Please tell me!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Stage vs. Screen
With most audiences gravitating towards movie theaters, there's been a lot of talk lately about making theater more high-tech, with moving scenery and live 3D projections, in order to compete with film.
I would like to suggest that the best way to compete with your rival is not to try to offer the same product they do, but to offer something you can't get from them.
I was reading the news this morning, and looking at all the reviews of Spider-Man: Turn Off The Dark, which actually opened last night! As in, for reals opened. While much improved, it's still being described as "bombastic", "overblown", and "soulless". Similarly, I wanted to see the Metropolitan Opera's Die Walkure (forgive the lack of umlaut, I can't kind the keyboard shortcut) last month. While many reviews acknowledged the evocative images conjured by the impressive stage machinery, they complained that it was distracting, dwarfing the performers and pulling focus away from the heart of the story.
On the other end of the spectrum, I was reading about PigPen Theatre Company's show "The Mountain Song", who tell their story with practical forms of puppetry such as a dress on a stick, a blanket, and hand puppets (as in, literally just their hands). Shows like this are more often described by critics as "charming", "whimsical", "imaginative" and "intimate".
One of the greatest shows I ever saw (I swear I will sit down and write a comprehensive post about it one of these days) was Shockheaded Peter. I saw an article about it's old-timey, Grand Guignol-style stage effects in the New York Times, and took a last minute bus trip to New York just to see it. Critics (and I) agreed that it was unique, bizarre, and mesmerizing.
I'm working on a couple brainchild project concepts for the near-to-distant-to-possibly-never future, and my foremost concern is not how to give the audiences and experience that rivals the movie theaters, but one so unique they can't possible experience it anywhere else.
I would like to suggest that the best way to compete with your rival is not to try to offer the same product they do, but to offer something you can't get from them.
I was reading the news this morning, and looking at all the reviews of Spider-Man: Turn Off The Dark, which actually opened last night! As in, for reals opened. While much improved, it's still being described as "bombastic", "overblown", and "soulless". Similarly, I wanted to see the Metropolitan Opera's Die Walkure (forgive the lack of umlaut, I can't kind the keyboard shortcut) last month. While many reviews acknowledged the evocative images conjured by the impressive stage machinery, they complained that it was distracting, dwarfing the performers and pulling focus away from the heart of the story.
On the other end of the spectrum, I was reading about PigPen Theatre Company's show "The Mountain Song", who tell their story with practical forms of puppetry such as a dress on a stick, a blanket, and hand puppets (as in, literally just their hands). Shows like this are more often described by critics as "charming", "whimsical", "imaginative" and "intimate".
One of the greatest shows I ever saw (I swear I will sit down and write a comprehensive post about it one of these days) was Shockheaded Peter. I saw an article about it's old-timey, Grand Guignol-style stage effects in the New York Times, and took a last minute bus trip to New York just to see it. Critics (and I) agreed that it was unique, bizarre, and mesmerizing.
I'm working on a couple brainchild project concepts for the near-to-distant-to-possibly-never future, and my foremost concern is not how to give the audiences and experience that rivals the movie theaters, but one so unique they can't possible experience it anywhere else.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Audience Antics
Good news: I'm too busy working on theatrical productions to write about theatre.
Bad news: I'm too busy working on theatrical productions to write about theatre.
So for some brief entertainment, a quick anecdote from Saturday night's performance.
We had a very engaged audience. They seemed to be an intellectual bunch, and I think may have understood the material better than some other audiences we've had. They got more of the jokes (this being a Shakespearean tragedy, I'm not sure everyone realized there were jokes) and would nod and "hm" in appreciation at moments of deep truth and understanding. They gave us a lot of energy and were very involved, and generally a pleasure to perform for.
At the start of the second act, I was standing at the stage left crossover entrance behind the audience with a few other actors waiting for our cues to come on stage, when I heard a prolonged and loud crashing and scuffling from the audience. We looked at each other in confusion, but no one could figure out what was going on. After the show, I got a chance to ask the lead actress, who was on stage at the time and could see everything, what had happened.
To illustrate, here is a diagram I made of the stage in MS Paint:
So, at the start of Act 2 our stage manager made sure the lobby and restrooms were cleared before bringing down the lights and starting the show. At this point, someone apparently made a last-minute dash for the bathroom, which you can see on the right side of the drawing is right next to the backstage area, and in the middle of where the actors go to cross behind the audience for entrances on the left side of the stage.
Having come out of the bathroom and seen that the show was in full swing, instead of going around the front of the seating area, he decided to bust through the curtains blocking the audience off from the actor cross over. This did not work very well, as the curtains are pinned closed to prevent gapping. Also, there were a bunch of people sitting right on the other side of the curtain, and he had to climb over them, creating the aforementioned ruckus.
Major props to our lead actress for keeping her cool through a dramatic monologue while having to watch this ridiculousness right in front of her, since most of the opening scene is addressed directly to the audience.
Bad news: I'm too busy working on theatrical productions to write about theatre.
So for some brief entertainment, a quick anecdote from Saturday night's performance.
We had a very engaged audience. They seemed to be an intellectual bunch, and I think may have understood the material better than some other audiences we've had. They got more of the jokes (this being a Shakespearean tragedy, I'm not sure everyone realized there were jokes) and would nod and "hm" in appreciation at moments of deep truth and understanding. They gave us a lot of energy and were very involved, and generally a pleasure to perform for.
At the start of the second act, I was standing at the stage left crossover entrance behind the audience with a few other actors waiting for our cues to come on stage, when I heard a prolonged and loud crashing and scuffling from the audience. We looked at each other in confusion, but no one could figure out what was going on. After the show, I got a chance to ask the lead actress, who was on stage at the time and could see everything, what had happened.
To illustrate, here is a diagram I made of the stage in MS Paint:
Having come out of the bathroom and seen that the show was in full swing, instead of going around the front of the seating area, he decided to bust through the curtains blocking the audience off from the actor cross over. This did not work very well, as the curtains are pinned closed to prevent gapping. Also, there were a bunch of people sitting right on the other side of the curtain, and he had to climb over them, creating the aforementioned ruckus.
Major props to our lead actress for keeping her cool through a dramatic monologue while having to watch this ridiculousness right in front of her, since most of the opening scene is addressed directly to the audience.
Monday, May 23, 2011
There's No Dying In Theatre!
Saturday morning when I woke up, I felt pretty okay. I'd had some breakfast, and was sitting at my desk surfing the internet when I realized I felt kind of dizzy. My roommate advised me to drink some water, but I still felt woozy and out of it. After the extremely non-strenuous activity of playing some video games, I realized that I was feeling nauseous as well, and went to lie down for a while.
On any other Saturday, that would be fine. But on this day I had a 7pm call time for a show in which I have a very high-energy, physical role. And it's a small theater, so there's no understudies. Even in bigger theaters, you don't just call in sick if you're not feeling well. You have to be physically incapable of playing your role (and doing so safely). It's a matter of integrity as much as of convenience.
I knew Saturday would be a challenge--as I pride myself on the ferocity of my performance in this particular production, I wasn't about to half-ass it. I open the show flying on in a rage, and it's my personal goal to resemble a freight train in my entrance as much as possible. Besides that I have two fight scenes and a LOT of running. I would just have to grit my teeth and get through it.
Luckily, my head started to clear up once I'd been up and walking around for a while, and my stage makeup helped cover my zombie-like pallor. I had a couple friends at that night's show, and they reported that they couldn't tell at all that I hadn't been feeling well.
----------------------
In other news, I completely failed at seeing the live broadcast of the Met's Die Walküre. After seeing Das Rheingold in the fall, I was really looking forward to it. However, the live screening was the day after my show opened, and I knew I'd be too tired to make it to the theater at 10am. We discussed catching the re-broadcast, which would have been on a Wednesday evening. At which point my opera companion pointed out that Die Walküre is five hours long.
Hell no. As much as I wanted to see this show, I know my own stamina level, and this just wasn't going to work out. *Sigh*. Opera fail.
On any other Saturday, that would be fine. But on this day I had a 7pm call time for a show in which I have a very high-energy, physical role. And it's a small theater, so there's no understudies. Even in bigger theaters, you don't just call in sick if you're not feeling well. You have to be physically incapable of playing your role (and doing so safely). It's a matter of integrity as much as of convenience.
I knew Saturday would be a challenge--as I pride myself on the ferocity of my performance in this particular production, I wasn't about to half-ass it. I open the show flying on in a rage, and it's my personal goal to resemble a freight train in my entrance as much as possible. Besides that I have two fight scenes and a LOT of running. I would just have to grit my teeth and get through it.
Luckily, my head started to clear up once I'd been up and walking around for a while, and my stage makeup helped cover my zombie-like pallor. I had a couple friends at that night's show, and they reported that they couldn't tell at all that I hadn't been feeling well.
----------------------
In other news, I completely failed at seeing the live broadcast of the Met's Die Walküre. After seeing Das Rheingold in the fall, I was really looking forward to it. However, the live screening was the day after my show opened, and I knew I'd be too tired to make it to the theater at 10am. We discussed catching the re-broadcast, which would have been on a Wednesday evening. At which point my opera companion pointed out that Die Walküre is five hours long.
Hell no. As much as I wanted to see this show, I know my own stamina level, and this just wasn't going to work out. *Sigh*. Opera fail.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
2011 Obies
I just want to say quickly how happy I am to see that Scott Shepherd won an Obie for his performance in Gatz! (narrating and reading the role of Nick Carraway), and that Punchdrunk Theater Company got a special citation for the design and choreography of Sleep No More.
These are two projects I've been cheerleading for a while, but because they're both so unusual, they're not eligible for the same kind of accolades. It's nice to see some recognition for this kind of innovation and originality.
These are two projects I've been cheerleading for a while, but because they're both so unusual, they're not eligible for the same kind of accolades. It's nice to see some recognition for this kind of innovation and originality.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
The Hardest Job
I was recently chatting with one of my fellow actors after a rehearsal at which we'd done some costume fittings, and I mentioned how pleased I was with my costume, because:
a) I like the way I look in it
b) It is what I would have envisioned for the character
c) It's super comfortable
She and and I were discussing the fact that often your costuming in a show doesn't flatter your own personal vanity, but you have to put that aside for the good of the show. My favorite actors to costume are the ones who, even though they may not look cool or sexy in their costume, love it anyway because it enhances the character and fits the life of the play.
I once had professor in college who told us that scenic designers are listed ahead of costume designers in the program because their job is harder. Would it surprise you to hear that he was a scenic designer himself? I call bullshit. You're never going to hear a theater space complaining to its designer that the set makes it look fat. Costume designers have to deal with the personalities and hangups and physical comfort of the people we're designing for. You can't just hammer an ill-fitting wig into place like you can a set piece (although I've sure had people try).
I love reading theatre news on Playbill.com, and they have a feature they run on Mondays where they interview an actor, and one of the questions is always "what is the worst costume you've ever had to wear?" You don't hear them asking about the worst prop or sound cue.
Sorry, actors, but it's not always about you. We designers have to negotiate so many personalities; we're trying to keep you happy AND the director happy AND deal with things like quick changes or making the continuity of the story work. You may not like the way you look, but some times it does not serve the story for you to look cute. Every story needs its clowns and villains and grotesques. What's important is to do what's best for the show. And if that's looking ridiculous or ugly, then do it, and enjoy it! That's why we act, anyway, to be the things onstage we can't be in real life.
a) I like the way I look in it
b) It is what I would have envisioned for the character
c) It's super comfortable
She and and I were discussing the fact that often your costuming in a show doesn't flatter your own personal vanity, but you have to put that aside for the good of the show. My favorite actors to costume are the ones who, even though they may not look cool or sexy in their costume, love it anyway because it enhances the character and fits the life of the play.
I once had professor in college who told us that scenic designers are listed ahead of costume designers in the program because their job is harder. Would it surprise you to hear that he was a scenic designer himself? I call bullshit. You're never going to hear a theater space complaining to its designer that the set makes it look fat. Costume designers have to deal with the personalities and hangups and physical comfort of the people we're designing for. You can't just hammer an ill-fitting wig into place like you can a set piece (although I've sure had people try).
I love reading theatre news on Playbill.com, and they have a feature they run on Mondays where they interview an actor, and one of the questions is always "what is the worst costume you've ever had to wear?" You don't hear them asking about the worst prop or sound cue.
Sorry, actors, but it's not always about you. We designers have to negotiate so many personalities; we're trying to keep you happy AND the director happy AND deal with things like quick changes or making the continuity of the story work. You may not like the way you look, but some times it does not serve the story for you to look cute. Every story needs its clowns and villains and grotesques. What's important is to do what's best for the show. And if that's looking ridiculous or ugly, then do it, and enjoy it! That's why we act, anyway, to be the things onstage we can't be in real life.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Focus on the Actors?
I was a bit irked yesterday by an email I received from my theatre company. It was an audition announcement for our next show, and came with a little note from the director explaining the concept, which said "...the play specifically calls for as little costume and set dressing as possible. What does this mean? This means this is a show for ACTORS!"
This drove me crazy. We're talking about a contemporary, intimate relationship drama. What are they going to be wearing, ballgowns? People seem to have this attitude that if everyone isn't in corsets and frock coats, they're not wearing "costumes", or that if the show is contemporary, costumes aren't important.
ON STAGE, EVERY CHOICE IS IMPORTANT.
You want to communicate to your audience right away who these people are or how they live. This play is about a married couple who are both writers, and set in their home. Are they well off, or do they struggle to make ends meet? Are they preppy academics, or cutting-edge rebels? Do they live in Cape Cod, Arizona, or Brooklyn? These are all opportunities to flesh out the characters, and these details can be communicated to the audience through the costumes and set dressing.
CHOICES DON'T NEED TO BE FANCY OR IMPORTANT, BUT THEY NEED TO BE SPECIFIC.
It doesn't help the audience for the actors to wander on stage wearing whatever clothes they happened to have on that morning. That tells them nothing about the characters. It doesn't help the actors, either. Often, the key to realizing a character is looking in the mirror and seeing that character looking back at you.
That's not to say that you can't be completely transported by a well-acted show with minimal tech elements, but you need to create an environment in which the audience's imagination can fill in the blanks. Where you put the negative space in a play is a choice, too.
This drove me crazy. We're talking about a contemporary, intimate relationship drama. What are they going to be wearing, ballgowns? People seem to have this attitude that if everyone isn't in corsets and frock coats, they're not wearing "costumes", or that if the show is contemporary, costumes aren't important.
ON STAGE, EVERY CHOICE IS IMPORTANT.
You want to communicate to your audience right away who these people are or how they live. This play is about a married couple who are both writers, and set in their home. Are they well off, or do they struggle to make ends meet? Are they preppy academics, or cutting-edge rebels? Do they live in Cape Cod, Arizona, or Brooklyn? These are all opportunities to flesh out the characters, and these details can be communicated to the audience through the costumes and set dressing.
CHOICES DON'T NEED TO BE FANCY OR IMPORTANT, BUT THEY NEED TO BE SPECIFIC.
It doesn't help the audience for the actors to wander on stage wearing whatever clothes they happened to have on that morning. That tells them nothing about the characters. It doesn't help the actors, either. Often, the key to realizing a character is looking in the mirror and seeing that character looking back at you.
That's not to say that you can't be completely transported by a well-acted show with minimal tech elements, but you need to create an environment in which the audience's imagination can fill in the blanks. Where you put the negative space in a play is a choice, too.
Friday, April 22, 2011
The Sugar/Caffeine Death Spiral
I have a bit of a problem with my current show; I get off of work at 5pm, but rehearsal is not until 7:30. I work at about the mid-way point between my house and our rehearsal space, so I don't have enough time to go home first, leaving me with about an hour and a half to kill before I can head over there.
I've been doing a ton of overtime at work (yay, time and a half!) to fill the gap, but I don't get home from rehearsal until almost 11 o'clock at night, resulting in some very long days. And a very tired girl.
During the day at work, I start flagging. I would love to do something to get my energy up, like do some jumping jacks, or run around the building, or have a 10-second dance party.
Sadly, these things are generally frowned upon in a business environment. So instead, I turned to the only two options available to me: candy and caffeine.
I can't drink coffee--either it has more caffeine than I can handle, or the coffee is just too acidic, and it makes me super nauseous. So instead I drink black tea, although I can't have too much of that either, especially on an empty stomach. It has the odd result that I will have a HUGE sneezing fit (13 sneezes is my record). Physiologically, I don't know how those two things are related. It makes zero sense.
I also have a co-worker who has a candy drawer in her desk full of Twizzlers, Tootsie Rolls, and Mike & Ike's. I try to pack myself lots of healthy snacks to deter myself, but a fistful of Tootsie Rolls is more enticing than string cheese when you're trying to make it through the afternoon. But since I'm out of the habit of eating really sugary foods, a) I feel gross afterwards, and b) I can feel my veins vibrating.
I do sometimes manage to take naps during the day at work; a few people have couches in their offices, and there's a creepy nylon one in the breakroom. I think the next step is taking naps sitting up at my desk (while still typing, if possible).
I've been doing a ton of overtime at work (yay, time and a half!) to fill the gap, but I don't get home from rehearsal until almost 11 o'clock at night, resulting in some very long days. And a very tired girl.
During the day at work, I start flagging. I would love to do something to get my energy up, like do some jumping jacks, or run around the building, or have a 10-second dance party.
Sadly, these things are generally frowned upon in a business environment. So instead, I turned to the only two options available to me: candy and caffeine.
I can't drink coffee--either it has more caffeine than I can handle, or the coffee is just too acidic, and it makes me super nauseous. So instead I drink black tea, although I can't have too much of that either, especially on an empty stomach. It has the odd result that I will have a HUGE sneezing fit (13 sneezes is my record). Physiologically, I don't know how those two things are related. It makes zero sense.
I also have a co-worker who has a candy drawer in her desk full of Twizzlers, Tootsie Rolls, and Mike & Ike's. I try to pack myself lots of healthy snacks to deter myself, but a fistful of Tootsie Rolls is more enticing than string cheese when you're trying to make it through the afternoon. But since I'm out of the habit of eating really sugary foods, a) I feel gross afterwards, and b) I can feel my veins vibrating.
I do sometimes manage to take naps during the day at work; a few people have couches in their offices, and there's a creepy nylon one in the breakroom. I think the next step is taking naps sitting up at my desk (while still typing, if possible).
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The Greatest Lesson I Ever Learned From Theatre
When I was in seventh grade, my school started a drama club. In the fall we did three short comedic one acts, and I got cast in a pretty good part. In the spring we did a full-length, mostly dramatic (it had some funny bits) play. I was feeling so confident at the auditions, I just got up on stage and read through the script. I'm not sure I even looked at it before I went up there.
I did not get cast.
I remember pushing through the crowd at the back of the auditorium to look at the cast list taped to the wall, and looking over it again and again, but it remained the same. I was only an understudy. I managed to get out to the parking lot before I started crying.
Rehearsal was twice a week after school, and I may have only been an understudy, but I went to every single one. I didn't have any friends that year, and didn't have anywhere to be after school. So I went to rehearsal. I made friends there, and I would watch the scenes, or do homework, or study lines for the characters I was understudying. And if any of the actors weren't there that day, I would fill in for them.
Three weeks before the show, a girl in the cast realized she had a major basketball tournament the same weekend as the show. She had to decide which one was more important to her. She chose basketball, and I got her role.
The next year we did Alice In Wonderland for our fall show. I was worried I wouldn't get a good part, since I had such a small role in the previous show. But I was thrilled when I found out I would be playing the Queen of Hearts!
It turns out, I had made a huge impression on the director with my dedication and enthusiasm. She was willing to take a bigger chance on me in the next show once she saw how hard I worked.
I think that's important lesson you can apply to any job, not just theatre. You may not like the job you have right now, but if you kick ass at it, people will notice. It can take a while to earn people's respect and trust. But opportunities will come to you once you do.
I did not get cast.
I remember pushing through the crowd at the back of the auditorium to look at the cast list taped to the wall, and looking over it again and again, but it remained the same. I was only an understudy. I managed to get out to the parking lot before I started crying.
Rehearsal was twice a week after school, and I may have only been an understudy, but I went to every single one. I didn't have any friends that year, and didn't have anywhere to be after school. So I went to rehearsal. I made friends there, and I would watch the scenes, or do homework, or study lines for the characters I was understudying. And if any of the actors weren't there that day, I would fill in for them.
Three weeks before the show, a girl in the cast realized she had a major basketball tournament the same weekend as the show. She had to decide which one was more important to her. She chose basketball, and I got her role.
The next year we did Alice In Wonderland for our fall show. I was worried I wouldn't get a good part, since I had such a small role in the previous show. But I was thrilled when I found out I would be playing the Queen of Hearts!
It turns out, I had made a huge impression on the director with my dedication and enthusiasm. She was willing to take a bigger chance on me in the next show once she saw how hard I worked.
I think that's important lesson you can apply to any job, not just theatre. You may not like the job you have right now, but if you kick ass at it, people will notice. It can take a while to earn people's respect and trust. But opportunities will come to you once you do.
No Small Parts
Seriously. There aren't any.
I remember a lesson from the summers when I went to a theater day camp during my vacations. We went to see a show at another children's theater--I don't remember what the show was, I think it was based on a Tomie dePaola book. The only thing I remember about it--and what we all agreed was our favorite part later--was the girl who played the goat. She had zero lines and her character was not important to the plot. Our camp counselors asked us why we all liked her so much, and why she was so interesting to watch.
It was because she was having fun. She was fun for us to watch because she was clearly having a great time playing her role.
Another good example is a production of Twelfth Night which I designed for my theater company this past summer. The character Fabian is usually kind of a throwaway role--he shows up halfway through the show which no introduction, everyone just acts like he's always been there. He helps out some other characters in their scheming, but that's about it. The director gave the role to Tracey, who played the role as a man. She's a great comic and Shakespearean actress, but he didn't have a female role that she fit in that show.
Well, she completely owned it as Fabian. She took a nondescript character, and turned it into a comic foil so funny, she consistently got spontaneous mid-scene applause. She's also the only person I know who can ad-lib Shakespeare successfully.
So now I find myself doing a Shakespeare play, and while I'm on stage a lot, there's not a lot of information about my character in the script, and I don't have a lot of dialogue. So I did the most important thing any actor can when creating a role- I made up a backstory for myself. A lot of it was based on the experiments we did with Laban Movement Theory; I discovered what kind of movement felt right for my character, and then came up with a reason why he might act that way (we're women playing male characters).
Thanks to my background development, I now have a character who has specific motivations and relationships that inform how she reacts to what's going on onstage, which gives me something to do even when I don't have lines. The best thing is, even though I completely made up this character's personality, my director is being completely supportive. He's even finding opportunities in the scene for my character to have more specific reactions. And as a result I'm having a lot of fun playing him.
I remember a lesson from the summers when I went to a theater day camp during my vacations. We went to see a show at another children's theater--I don't remember what the show was, I think it was based on a Tomie dePaola book. The only thing I remember about it--and what we all agreed was our favorite part later--was the girl who played the goat. She had zero lines and her character was not important to the plot. Our camp counselors asked us why we all liked her so much, and why she was so interesting to watch.
It was because she was having fun. She was fun for us to watch because she was clearly having a great time playing her role.
Another good example is a production of Twelfth Night which I designed for my theater company this past summer. The character Fabian is usually kind of a throwaway role--he shows up halfway through the show which no introduction, everyone just acts like he's always been there. He helps out some other characters in their scheming, but that's about it. The director gave the role to Tracey, who played the role as a man. She's a great comic and Shakespearean actress, but he didn't have a female role that she fit in that show.
Well, she completely owned it as Fabian. She took a nondescript character, and turned it into a comic foil so funny, she consistently got spontaneous mid-scene applause. She's also the only person I know who can ad-lib Shakespeare successfully.
So now I find myself doing a Shakespeare play, and while I'm on stage a lot, there's not a lot of information about my character in the script, and I don't have a lot of dialogue. So I did the most important thing any actor can when creating a role- I made up a backstory for myself. A lot of it was based on the experiments we did with Laban Movement Theory; I discovered what kind of movement felt right for my character, and then came up with a reason why he might act that way (we're women playing male characters).
Thanks to my background development, I now have a character who has specific motivations and relationships that inform how she reacts to what's going on onstage, which gives me something to do even when I don't have lines. The best thing is, even though I completely made up this character's personality, my director is being completely supportive. He's even finding opportunities in the scene for my character to have more specific reactions. And as a result I'm having a lot of fun playing him.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Stage Combat
I gotta be honest; I love doing fight choreography. It probably comes from my latent desire to be an action star. I took Kung-Fu lessons when I was a kid, and I was part of a filmmaking club in college that specialized in action/thriller films, so I got to learn how to do stage fighting.
I remember doing one really long day of shooting for a thriller about a home invasion--my attacker and I spent most of it wrestling on the floor of a tiny bathroom before I chased him into the kitchen, and ultimately killed him with a meat cleaver. The bathroom was barely big enough to fit the crew, and we did a lot of shots with the cameraman standing on the toilet and the director hiding in the bathtub. I was so sore I couldn't move the next day, but it was extremely rewarding, and we got a great reaction from the crowd at our school film festival for the brutal fights.
So I'm really excited to be doing a lot of stage combat in the show that I'm rehearsing right now. Fights present a lot of challenges on stage; you need to make sure everyone stays safe, but you want the fight to look chaotic and spontaneous, but you need to keep the movement clean enough that the audience can follow the action.
One of the most important things is to make sure the audience isn't concerned about the safety of the actors. It's a weird dichotomy, but you need to maintain suspension of disbelief. The audience needs to believe that the character is being hurt, but not the actor. If they're actually worried for the actor, it will pull them out of the moment.
In my opinion, the most importants traits are to appear deliberate and determined. Each movement has to have a specific purpose; you can't flail or stumble about, even when you're the one taking the hits. I think the best way to sell taking a hit is to "ragdoll", but you still need to make it clear where the impact was, and how much it hurt. Which leads to the other element: determination. You have to act the fight. Are you angry? Scared? Tired? The fighters need to look determined to win the fight, both in their body language and facial expression.
When learning the fight choreography, you have to start out v e r y s l o w l y, and then speed the action up. If you've ever watched DVD outtakes about fight scenes, you've probably heard the stunt coordinators say that learning a fight is like learning a dance. It sounds a bit cliche, but it's really true. Something we just started doing organically in rehearsals, and which I now use as an actual technique, is to narrate the fight as you walk through it. To literally say out loud:
"I go for a right hook"
"I duck and punch you in the ribs"
"I stumble back"
"I grab your shoulders and knee you in the gut"
It sounds really cheesy, but not only is it a great way to help remember the fight choreography, it results in clean fights.
So those are my thoughts on stage combat. We're learning another big fight tomorrow, and I'm really looking forward to it. Because not only is fighting on stage fun to do, when done well, it makes your show more memorable.
It also looks really cool.
I remember doing one really long day of shooting for a thriller about a home invasion--my attacker and I spent most of it wrestling on the floor of a tiny bathroom before I chased him into the kitchen, and ultimately killed him with a meat cleaver. The bathroom was barely big enough to fit the crew, and we did a lot of shots with the cameraman standing on the toilet and the director hiding in the bathtub. I was so sore I couldn't move the next day, but it was extremely rewarding, and we got a great reaction from the crowd at our school film festival for the brutal fights.
So I'm really excited to be doing a lot of stage combat in the show that I'm rehearsing right now. Fights present a lot of challenges on stage; you need to make sure everyone stays safe, but you want the fight to look chaotic and spontaneous, but you need to keep the movement clean enough that the audience can follow the action.
One of the most important things is to make sure the audience isn't concerned about the safety of the actors. It's a weird dichotomy, but you need to maintain suspension of disbelief. The audience needs to believe that the character is being hurt, but not the actor. If they're actually worried for the actor, it will pull them out of the moment.
In my opinion, the most importants traits are to appear deliberate and determined. Each movement has to have a specific purpose; you can't flail or stumble about, even when you're the one taking the hits. I think the best way to sell taking a hit is to "ragdoll", but you still need to make it clear where the impact was, and how much it hurt. Which leads to the other element: determination. You have to act the fight. Are you angry? Scared? Tired? The fighters need to look determined to win the fight, both in their body language and facial expression.
When learning the fight choreography, you have to start out v e r y s l o w l y, and then speed the action up. If you've ever watched DVD outtakes about fight scenes, you've probably heard the stunt coordinators say that learning a fight is like learning a dance. It sounds a bit cliche, but it's really true. Something we just started doing organically in rehearsals, and which I now use as an actual technique, is to narrate the fight as you walk through it. To literally say out loud:
"I go for a right hook"
"I duck and punch you in the ribs"
"I stumble back"
"I grab your shoulders and knee you in the gut"
It sounds really cheesy, but not only is it a great way to help remember the fight choreography, it results in clean fights.
So those are my thoughts on stage combat. We're learning another big fight tomorrow, and I'm really looking forward to it. Because not only is fighting on stage fun to do, when done well, it makes your show more memorable.
It also looks really cool.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Le Comte Ory
I went to see this live screening this past Saturday morning. I had a very full week, and almost didn't go. But these are three of my favorite singers, and I've enjoyed all of director Bartlett Scher's previous work for the Met, and Catherine Zuber designed the costumes. So I dragged myself out of bed, threw on something barely resembling clothes, slapped some Nutella on a slice of banana bread for breakfast, and I went.
It was well worth it. It would've been a huge shame to miss Juan Diego Florez, Diana Damrau, and Joyce DiDonato all in the same show, each of whom is the best in their fach. Besides which, Florez had come directly from the birth of his first child (a son, Leandro). As in, the baby was born at 12:25 PM EST, and the opera began at 1:00 PM. He was clearly running on adrenaline and fumes, but did seemed completely focused on his performance. In the title role, Florez is disguised both as an old hermit and a nun, and his shameless mugging was hilarious.
Oddly, I'm not usually a huge fan of tenors. Sure, I've seen tenors who have been very good, but I don't find myself moved to adoration like I have been with baritones. There are certainly more baritones whose careers I follow than tenors. Don't know why that is. Open to suggestion. But Florez is definitely the exception for me. His voice is thrilling-it has such a bright, exciting sound.
Director Bartlett Scher decided to give this show a sort of a framing device--it is kind of an odd opera, as it is a medieval French farce set during the Crusades, with music composed by an Italian. To try to marry the two sensibilities, Scher set it in a theater during Rossini's time, so you can see period set mechanics and stagehands. For the costumes, Zuber made it look like they had just raided whatever was in the wardrobe closet. It was full of frothy pink confections, but the only thing I didn't entirely like about it was sometimes you'd catch a period from the future--I'd catch a Regency era gown here and there, and it was a bit distracting. But they did fun things like creating a storm with guys on the side of the stage shaking thunder sheets and wind machines, and someone was welding to create lightning (although the camera was having a hard time catching it).
Part of this stage device was a grumpy stage manager, played by Rob Besserer. It was essentially the same character he played in Scher's The Barber of Seville a few years ago, when he played the mute servant. I find it amusing because:
a) he looks like this little stooped over old guy, until the curtain call when he straightens up, and you realize he's the tallest guy on stage
b) he's the same dancer who played Herr Drosselmeier-my favorite character- in the DVD I have of Mark Morris' The Hard Nut.
Other things I enjoyed about the production:
- Choreographed stagehands twirling about while moving trees, therefore dubbed "treeography"
- A bunch of (often bearded) man disguised as nuns, hiding all the wine they've stolen under their habits. They also had a hilarious dance number.
-Rob Besserer's in-character creeping behind Renee Fleming as she introduced the broadcast
-The trio for the three leads as Ory sneaks into Countess Adele's bed, not knowing she's already got his page Isolier in there with her. They are ostensibly in the dark, so there was lots of hilariously entangled limbs and misplaced groping.
Here's a video of the scene I'm referring to, which I kidnapped from the Met's website:
It was well worth it. It would've been a huge shame to miss Juan Diego Florez, Diana Damrau, and Joyce DiDonato all in the same show, each of whom is the best in their fach. Besides which, Florez had come directly from the birth of his first child (a son, Leandro). As in, the baby was born at 12:25 PM EST, and the opera began at 1:00 PM. He was clearly running on adrenaline and fumes, but did seemed completely focused on his performance. In the title role, Florez is disguised both as an old hermit and a nun, and his shameless mugging was hilarious.
Oddly, I'm not usually a huge fan of tenors. Sure, I've seen tenors who have been very good, but I don't find myself moved to adoration like I have been with baritones. There are certainly more baritones whose careers I follow than tenors. Don't know why that is. Open to suggestion. But Florez is definitely the exception for me. His voice is thrilling-it has such a bright, exciting sound.
Director Bartlett Scher decided to give this show a sort of a framing device--it is kind of an odd opera, as it is a medieval French farce set during the Crusades, with music composed by an Italian. To try to marry the two sensibilities, Scher set it in a theater during Rossini's time, so you can see period set mechanics and stagehands. For the costumes, Zuber made it look like they had just raided whatever was in the wardrobe closet. It was full of frothy pink confections, but the only thing I didn't entirely like about it was sometimes you'd catch a period from the future--I'd catch a Regency era gown here and there, and it was a bit distracting. But they did fun things like creating a storm with guys on the side of the stage shaking thunder sheets and wind machines, and someone was welding to create lightning (although the camera was having a hard time catching it).
Part of this stage device was a grumpy stage manager, played by Rob Besserer. It was essentially the same character he played in Scher's The Barber of Seville a few years ago, when he played the mute servant. I find it amusing because:
a) he looks like this little stooped over old guy, until the curtain call when he straightens up, and you realize he's the tallest guy on stage
b) he's the same dancer who played Herr Drosselmeier-my favorite character- in the DVD I have of Mark Morris' The Hard Nut.
Other things I enjoyed about the production:
- Choreographed stagehands twirling about while moving trees, therefore dubbed "treeography"
- A bunch of (often bearded) man disguised as nuns, hiding all the wine they've stolen under their habits. They also had a hilarious dance number.
-Rob Besserer's in-character creeping behind Renee Fleming as she introduced the broadcast
-The trio for the three leads as Ory sneaks into Countess Adele's bed, not knowing she's already got his page Isolier in there with her. They are ostensibly in the dark, so there was lots of hilariously entangled limbs and misplaced groping.
Here's a video of the scene I'm referring to, which I kidnapped from the Met's website:
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
So...What Did You Think?
Another blog I follow lead me to an interesting article today, and I think it's an important topic that people who work in the arts (or have a lot of friends in the arts) need to address: how to tell your friend what you thought of their show.
The linked article is great, and I definitely suggest you read it. I would also like to share two memorable experiences I've had with this, one many years ago, the other quite recently.
As a student, I had a large role in a production of The Crucible. Another actor from the production and I were good friends with a girl who was doing Our Town at her school a few weeks before it opened, so we went to see it. Our friend was good, but many of the other actors were flat and it was generally a dull production. But when we greeted our friend after the show, we told her how good she was, and found some nice things to say about the show.
A few weeks later, she came to see us in The Crucible, and afterwords when we asked what she thought, she just said "I didn't like it". That was it! Now, I know the show wasn't Tony-worthy; it was a student production and obviously had its problems. But it was not completely without merit, and had a lot of really good moments. None of which she chose to mention.
As for the other story; I'm currently involved with a well-reviewed production that is enjoying a successful run in Los Angeles (I was the dramaturg; in this context I mostly acted at an artistic consultant). The play is notable for its "love it or hate it" twist ending. A friend of the company came to see it, and afterwards loudly announced to his friends that he had figured out the twist for himself, was disappointed by it, and from that point on had ceased paying attention.
So three of his friends are on stage, giving physically strenuous and emotionally gripping performances, but he doesn't like the plot twist, so he's just completely checked out. ???!?!!
Based on the above, I would like to provide a few tips for going to see your friends' shows:
-Stay for the whole thing, and make sure your friend at least sees you afterwards. You are there to support your friend, and not just for your own entertainment, so even if you're not enjoying yourself, stick it out.
-Give your friend a "Good job", whether it was deserved or not. Don't ruin the post-performance afterglow.
-Come up with something nice to say about the production; cool costumes, fun choreography, that one really funny bit. Anything, so long as you don't just say "Good job" and then stand there staring at your friend.
But the most important thing, really, is to know your friend. If you know he's really thin-skinned and can't take criticism, pick out a few strong points to praise, and hope the topic never comes up again. If you see a serious problem that may hurt your friend's career in the long run and needs to be addressed, find a way to gently inform him of it. But if you have the kind of friends who are capable of objectively deconstructing their own work, you can actually tell them what you thought of it (but I'd recommend this for drinks a week later, not in the lobby after curtain calls)
But with any luck, your friends' shows are all really good, and you'll never have this problem.
The linked article is great, and I definitely suggest you read it. I would also like to share two memorable experiences I've had with this, one many years ago, the other quite recently.
As a student, I had a large role in a production of The Crucible. Another actor from the production and I were good friends with a girl who was doing Our Town at her school a few weeks before it opened, so we went to see it. Our friend was good, but many of the other actors were flat and it was generally a dull production. But when we greeted our friend after the show, we told her how good she was, and found some nice things to say about the show.
A few weeks later, she came to see us in The Crucible, and afterwords when we asked what she thought, she just said "I didn't like it". That was it! Now, I know the show wasn't Tony-worthy; it was a student production and obviously had its problems. But it was not completely without merit, and had a lot of really good moments. None of which she chose to mention.
As for the other story; I'm currently involved with a well-reviewed production that is enjoying a successful run in Los Angeles (I was the dramaturg; in this context I mostly acted at an artistic consultant). The play is notable for its "love it or hate it" twist ending. A friend of the company came to see it, and afterwards loudly announced to his friends that he had figured out the twist for himself, was disappointed by it, and from that point on had ceased paying attention.
So three of his friends are on stage, giving physically strenuous and emotionally gripping performances, but he doesn't like the plot twist, so he's just completely checked out. ???!?!!
Based on the above, I would like to provide a few tips for going to see your friends' shows:
-Stay for the whole thing, and make sure your friend at least sees you afterwards. You are there to support your friend, and not just for your own entertainment, so even if you're not enjoying yourself, stick it out.
-Give your friend a "Good job", whether it was deserved or not. Don't ruin the post-performance afterglow.
-Come up with something nice to say about the production; cool costumes, fun choreography, that one really funny bit. Anything, so long as you don't just say "Good job" and then stand there staring at your friend.
But the most important thing, really, is to know your friend. If you know he's really thin-skinned and can't take criticism, pick out a few strong points to praise, and hope the topic never comes up again. If you see a serious problem that may hurt your friend's career in the long run and needs to be addressed, find a way to gently inform him of it. But if you have the kind of friends who are capable of objectively deconstructing their own work, you can actually tell them what you thought of it (but I'd recommend this for drinks a week later, not in the lobby after curtain calls)
But with any luck, your friends' shows are all really good, and you'll never have this problem.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Playing with Laban Theory
I'm starting rehearsal on a new play (which I'm in), and after two days of just reading through the script, we did a night of movement. We did some stretching, and vocal and physical warm-ups, and playing some games to get us working together as a group.
For me, the most interesting part was the time we spent on Laban Movement Theory. You've probably dabbled with a bit of this if you've ever taken an acting class--walk in a circle, notice what part of your body you lead with, try leading with something else, etc. I've done this as an exercise plenty of times to develop a walk or movement style for a character, but never gone much further than that.
What we did in rehearsal yesterday was a little more in-depth, exploring four different contrasting ways of moving:
Direct vs. Indirect
Sudden vs. Sustained
Light vs. Heavy
Free vs. Restrained
I seriously wish I could've had a tape recorder in my head, because I noticed so many interesting things that I wanted to remember for later. When we were playing with indirect movement through space, I noticed if I was charging through the center of the room, and then suddenly changed direction, that seemed like a character who was very inconstant. Using indirect, restrained movement at the edge of the space, I felt more like a character who was very hesitant and unsure. It was enlightening to notice my personal emotional response to movement; when we were playing with restrained movement, I curled into a ball in the middle of the room; and it felt very exposed and scary.
For the character in this play, I thought about what kind of movement felt natural to me, versus how I thought my character would move. My ideas thus far had been that he is suspicious and conniving, masculine, and aggressive (this is a cast of women who are mostly playing male characters, but not actually "as men"). The kind of movement that felt right for him was a confident, swaggery walk, and I often found myself prowling the edge of the space, then picking a destination and charging straight across to it. In one exercise, we were asked to think about how we relate to people who are moving the same way we were, versus those who weren't. I found myself keeping and eye on people moving similarly (either as rivals or possible cohorts), while people who were using lighter, freer movement irritated me ("who are these frolicking idiots? Get out of my way").
This gives me some new ideas about how to play my character, who may not be so fleshed-out in the script, but who I can bring detail and specificity to. I have new tools to use in how to bring him to life. And now the cast has a common language that the director can use so the cast will understand what he's asking for.
I'm also pleasantly achy from a yoga warm-up we did; I think I'll need to incorporate that into my daily routine so I don't run myself down.
For me, the most interesting part was the time we spent on Laban Movement Theory. You've probably dabbled with a bit of this if you've ever taken an acting class--walk in a circle, notice what part of your body you lead with, try leading with something else, etc. I've done this as an exercise plenty of times to develop a walk or movement style for a character, but never gone much further than that.
What we did in rehearsal yesterday was a little more in-depth, exploring four different contrasting ways of moving:
Direct vs. Indirect
Sudden vs. Sustained
Light vs. Heavy
Free vs. Restrained
I seriously wish I could've had a tape recorder in my head, because I noticed so many interesting things that I wanted to remember for later. When we were playing with indirect movement through space, I noticed if I was charging through the center of the room, and then suddenly changed direction, that seemed like a character who was very inconstant. Using indirect, restrained movement at the edge of the space, I felt more like a character who was very hesitant and unsure. It was enlightening to notice my personal emotional response to movement; when we were playing with restrained movement, I curled into a ball in the middle of the room; and it felt very exposed and scary.
For the character in this play, I thought about what kind of movement felt natural to me, versus how I thought my character would move. My ideas thus far had been that he is suspicious and conniving, masculine, and aggressive (this is a cast of women who are mostly playing male characters, but not actually "as men"). The kind of movement that felt right for him was a confident, swaggery walk, and I often found myself prowling the edge of the space, then picking a destination and charging straight across to it. In one exercise, we were asked to think about how we relate to people who are moving the same way we were, versus those who weren't. I found myself keeping and eye on people moving similarly (either as rivals or possible cohorts), while people who were using lighter, freer movement irritated me ("who are these frolicking idiots? Get out of my way").
This gives me some new ideas about how to play my character, who may not be so fleshed-out in the script, but who I can bring detail and specificity to. I have new tools to use in how to bring him to life. And now the cast has a common language that the director can use so the cast will understand what he's asking for.
I'm also pleasantly achy from a yoga warm-up we did; I think I'll need to incorporate that into my daily routine so I don't run myself down.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Life in the Wardrobe Department With Mary Poppins
I found this great little video on Playbill.com today that shows you what goes into keeping a show running on a day-to-day basis. This is what I used to do as an intern, and later professionally. It wasn't as complicated at the regional theater I worked at, though, because we only had 4-6 week runs, so we didn't have to deal with cast replacements and understudies only covered roles in case of emergency. Also we didn't have to have duplicate sets of costumes, as the rules are more lax for shorter runs in smaller houses.
It's fun to see a feature on this show in particular, as I'm planning to see it this summer!
Friday, March 25, 2011
My Favorite Things- Opera
For fun, I thought I would post some of my favorite opera video clips from YouTube. They're always the first ones I go to. I think everyone finds a version of a song from a show they love, and can't imagine them being done any other way. That's what these are for me.
First we have Joyce DiDonato and Peter Mattei singing the duet "Dunque io Son" from The Barber of Seville, directed by Bartlett Scher for the Metropolitan Opera. The two parts are perfectly balanced, and I love their fun, playful chemistry.
This is from the same production-- "La Callunia" sung by John Relyea. I know it's unusual to enjoy a villainous aria so much, but I love the way the whole song builds from a "little whisper" to "the roar of a cannon".
So, I was surfing channels one day, and I happened across PBS at exactly the point in the show where this clip starts. I kept watching because I loved the old-timey carnival style and tailored suits. Then Kathleen Kim entered and sang The Doll Aria, and blew me away. She has the most amazing precision and clarity. The opera is Les Contes D'Hoffman by Jacques Offenbach, also directed by Bartlett Scher for the Met. The aria itself starts at (5:00), but I recommend watching the whole thing.
Now, the first opera I ever saw when I was a kid was Mozart's The Magic Flute. It was one my grandmother often sung, and I found a version that had run on PBS that I liked a lot. I think that also inspired me to learn German later in life. Papageno was always my favorite character, and as I've mentioned before, I love Simon Keenlyside. He did a great version for Covent Garden where he played Papageno as more of a sad-sack character than the goofy comic relief.
And of course, what is The Magic Flute without the most impressive aria in opera? This version of the Queen of the Night's aria is from the same production, and is undoubtedly my favorite interpretation. Diana Damrau plays the role with the most incredible drama and intensity, but also nuance, that I've ever seen. There's some German dialogue at the start of the clip, and the aria begins at about (2:10)
Well, that was a fun excuse to watch some of my favorite performances again. I hope you liked them, too!
First we have Joyce DiDonato and Peter Mattei singing the duet "Dunque io Son" from The Barber of Seville, directed by Bartlett Scher for the Metropolitan Opera. The two parts are perfectly balanced, and I love their fun, playful chemistry.
This is from the same production-- "La Callunia" sung by John Relyea. I know it's unusual to enjoy a villainous aria so much, but I love the way the whole song builds from a "little whisper" to "the roar of a cannon".
So, I was surfing channels one day, and I happened across PBS at exactly the point in the show where this clip starts. I kept watching because I loved the old-timey carnival style and tailored suits. Then Kathleen Kim entered and sang The Doll Aria, and blew me away. She has the most amazing precision and clarity. The opera is Les Contes D'Hoffman by Jacques Offenbach, also directed by Bartlett Scher for the Met. The aria itself starts at (5:00), but I recommend watching the whole thing.
Now, the first opera I ever saw when I was a kid was Mozart's The Magic Flute. It was one my grandmother often sung, and I found a version that had run on PBS that I liked a lot. I think that also inspired me to learn German later in life. Papageno was always my favorite character, and as I've mentioned before, I love Simon Keenlyside. He did a great version for Covent Garden where he played Papageno as more of a sad-sack character than the goofy comic relief.
And of course, what is The Magic Flute without the most impressive aria in opera? This version of the Queen of the Night's aria is from the same production, and is undoubtedly my favorite interpretation. Diana Damrau plays the role with the most incredible drama and intensity, but also nuance, that I've ever seen. There's some German dialogue at the start of the clip, and the aria begins at about (2:10)
Well, that was a fun excuse to watch some of my favorite performances again. I hope you liked them, too!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
My Thoughts on Frankenstein (Spoiler Version)
I wanted to share some more thoughts I had after watching Frankenstein last night, but they ruin some pretty big moments in the show. So if you're thinking of going, don't read this yet.
The start of the show is incredible; it starts with the genesis of the Creature as he is birthed on to the floor with a plop, and spends the next 10-15 minutes alone onstage, discovering how his limbs work. As Cumberbatch said in the pre-show interview, he has a full-grown human brain, and learns super-quick. Which is probably part of his downfall; as a child's brain develops, it layers different kinds of understanding and builds on its knowledge. An adult instead tries to smash the puzzle pieces together to make everything fit.
Anyway, it was an incredibly mesmerizing scene to watch. I would challenge any actor who doesn't bother to study any type of movement to create a scene that requires such nuance and stamina. I have one complaint, though; Frankenstein comes in, sees his creature, rejects him, and quickly disappears. I would have liked for them to hold on to that moment just a little bit longer; to see some kind of admission from the doctor that he was completely unprepared for his experiment to actually work.
One of my favorite scenes was of the female creature (Andreea Padurariu), which the Creature has begged his master to make him. You could really see the crazy/inspiration in Miller's eyes as he began to imagine the improvements he could make in his next experiment. Now this is going to sound a little weird, but stick with me. I've always been fascinated by things that should be beautiful, but are marred or twisted in some way (like the dilapidated theater in my icon). The actress playing the Female Creature is an absolute paragon of female physical beauty--Frankenstein trots her out only partially re-animated and wearing only a small loincloth so you can see her perfect curves and angles, accentuated by neat rows of stitch marks along her pallid, dead flesh.
Frankenstein shows the Creature his bride, and asks him what love feels like. "My lungs are on fire, and I feel like I can do anything!" is his reply, and by the angry, haunted look on Frankenstein's face, you can tell that he has no idea what that feels like.
What happens next is that the doctor distracts his creature long enough to destroy his bride--Frankenstein himself is supposed to be getting married. His fiance Elizabeth is lovely, warm and vivacious, and he feels nothing for her. This thing he created understands what it is to experience life better than he does, so Frankenstein denies him the love he cannot feel himself. I found the bride's death oddly beautiful as well, created in silhouette behind the womb-like membrane we saw the Creature born from earlier, which then rotates to show the aftermath of his destruction.
The start of the show is incredible; it starts with the genesis of the Creature as he is birthed on to the floor with a plop, and spends the next 10-15 minutes alone onstage, discovering how his limbs work. As Cumberbatch said in the pre-show interview, he has a full-grown human brain, and learns super-quick. Which is probably part of his downfall; as a child's brain develops, it layers different kinds of understanding and builds on its knowledge. An adult instead tries to smash the puzzle pieces together to make everything fit.
Anyway, it was an incredibly mesmerizing scene to watch. I would challenge any actor who doesn't bother to study any type of movement to create a scene that requires such nuance and stamina. I have one complaint, though; Frankenstein comes in, sees his creature, rejects him, and quickly disappears. I would have liked for them to hold on to that moment just a little bit longer; to see some kind of admission from the doctor that he was completely unprepared for his experiment to actually work.
--------
One of my favorite scenes was of the female creature (Andreea Padurariu), which the Creature has begged his master to make him. You could really see the crazy/inspiration in Miller's eyes as he began to imagine the improvements he could make in his next experiment. Now this is going to sound a little weird, but stick with me. I've always been fascinated by things that should be beautiful, but are marred or twisted in some way (like the dilapidated theater in my icon). The actress playing the Female Creature is an absolute paragon of female physical beauty--Frankenstein trots her out only partially re-animated and wearing only a small loincloth so you can see her perfect curves and angles, accentuated by neat rows of stitch marks along her pallid, dead flesh.
Frankenstein shows the Creature his bride, and asks him what love feels like. "My lungs are on fire, and I feel like I can do anything!" is his reply, and by the angry, haunted look on Frankenstein's face, you can tell that he has no idea what that feels like.
What happens next is that the doctor distracts his creature long enough to destroy his bride--Frankenstein himself is supposed to be getting married. His fiance Elizabeth is lovely, warm and vivacious, and he feels nothing for her. This thing he created understands what it is to experience life better than he does, so Frankenstein denies him the love he cannot feel himself. I found the bride's death oddly beautiful as well, created in silhouette behind the womb-like membrane we saw the Creature born from earlier, which then rotates to show the aftermath of his destruction.
 |
| Photo by Catherine Ashmore- The National Theatre. |
The scene near the end where the Creature seeks revenge on Frankenstein by attacking Elizabeth (Naomie Harris) on their wedding surprised the hell out of me--the Creature was hiding in their bed and I had no idea he was there. It's hard to do a jump-scare on stage, because you have to get out there without anyone seeing you and stay hidden. They did it really well.
And at the end of the show, en route the the North Pole, I felt so bad for Jonny Lee Miller. He shaved his head, and was obviously dripping under his hot wig and frock coat, and then he has to put on this seal fur coat! Poor guy must've been dying.
Well I'm sure I'll have a million more thoughts about this show throughout the day, but I wanted to get these ones written down while they were still in my head. How wonderful to see a show that sticks with you so much!
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