"I am angling now, though you percieve me not how I give line..."

I've been thinking about "craft" for the past couple of weeks.  (This may have something to do with the fact that I am rereading "The Name of the Wind"--the first book in the yet unfinished trilogy by Patrick Rothfuss.  If you haven't read it, you should.  Although you will join the legions of us who are waiting for him to finish it up). At any rate, I sort of want to dive into process and the craft of acting in this blog.  So this may only be interesting for about a third of you.  I'm not sure how to divide my four loyal readers into three, so if you are afraid you may be immolated by what comes next, you have my permission to eject now and save yourself (or whatever portion of yourself that might be at risk with that math).

We have had a first read-- which, as the remainder (math term) of my readers know is my favorite rehearsal-- and a few blocking rehearsals thus far (which is fancy Shakespeare talk for "so far.")  In other words, we are just getting to know what in the hell we are doing.  Which is the perfect time to talk about craft, IM(NS)HO.  (Yes, sometimes I'm so clever I do want to punch myself in the face.  Thanks for asking).

Ok, so this is a long prelude to me talking about the craft of acting because although I am desperate to do so, I feel pretentious in it.  Maybe I just want you to know that I don't take myself so seriously, while at the same time I take my craft as serious as kidney failure.

Enough with the preamble.

I am really excited to play Leontes in this version of "The Winter's Tale."  I am aided on this journey by several things.  A genius director (Stephanie Coltrin).  A great cutting of the play by Stephanie Coltrin.  The support and encouragement by my artistic partner...Stephanie Coltrin.  Not to mention my good friend, Stephanie Coltrin, who is always there to help me out when I have problems with the other three.  I've lost count of how many shows Steph and I have done together.  (Or how many hats Steph wears when we do work together). But we are artistic partners.  We make each other better.  We think alike. We fill in the gaps for one another.  There is nobody I'd rather have directing me. There is nobody who I trust more.

So let's talk about Trust in the process.  Theatre is the quintessential collaborative art form.

Shakespeare wrote this thing.  I trust him.

Lisa Coffi picked it.  I trust her.

Steph cut and cast it. I think I've made my feelings clear about her.

I have been a part of this festival (for the most part) since 2002, so I trust I won't be fired.
--this last may seem a trifle, but to an actor, not having to prove ourselves from day one is a real gift.  (There are so many stories of actors getting fired in first reads, that we constantly feel we must prove ourselves.) Actors always pay tenfold for rushed choices made before the thing is fully understood. 

As an actor it is my job to live believably  within the given circumstances.  But we actors are human.  As such we are flawed, insecure messes-- like the rest of humanity. (But also, way more so).  And on top of that, it is our job to reveal all that shit in front of people.  So Trust is a big freaking deal.  (Ok, so I am going to lay my soul bare to the audience, but does this shirt make me look fat?)  That's as real as I can be in trying to explain this world.

Trust is a dilemma.  Trust is earned, and giving that sort of trust to a director may not come easily for actors.  There is always a feeling-out process. So I am beyond relieved that my most trusted director is in charge of this one, and some of my best friends are in it.

Funny, going back to when we did "Julius Caesar" and I just met Steph, things could have gone wrong.  She sort of had to use me because I was a mainstay in the company.  She cast me as Marc Antony, but I didn't know if it was because she thought I was right or because she was pressured to do so.  Day one I came to her with some line changes (We have a strict 2 hour performance policy).  There was a speech that I wanted to keep intact, and I offered others in return.   She explained why she made the cuts she did, and I understood why she did it.  I explained why I wanted to keep the speech intact.  Like I said, it could have gone very wrong, but we were absolutely in lock step from that point on.  We trusted one another. And we have done so countless times since.

Now, it's easy to trust when you know the other artists involved in creating the play.  Actually, the better you know the people with whom you are working, the less you have to trust.  You have a certainty.  This is the great thing about theatre companies.  When you work together, you become family.  Family trusts.  But companies are disappearing from the landscape.  More and more you find yourself with strangers.  And we are all in this together, so we enter with a certain degree of trust, but we've all been burned. So we are all wary.

I realize that I have written a page, and just scratched the surface of this topic...trust.  Which is but one small part of the craft.  Let me quickly add that as an actor, you are also asked to trust the costumer, all the other designers (but costumes is really where actors have struggles), the best intentions of those involved behind the scenes.  The professionalism of your fellow artists.  If you have fight or dance choreography, you trust that you won't look like a fool, or be maimed.  If you have a love scene, you trust that your partner isn't some creep.  And although I love first rehearsal because everything is possible, I also love the rest of the process where you get to know one another and actually earn trust and become a family.  At least we always seem to at SBTS. 

More later.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Too hot! Too hot!

Apollo's Angry!