“The usual sign of confusion in our basic ideas on any topic is the persistence of rival doctrines, all many times refuted yet not abandoned….In a field where the basic concepts are not clear, conflicting outlooks and terminologies continue, side by side, to recruit adherents.”

Susanne K. Langer

“You say po-tae-to, I say po-tah-to…let’s call the whole thing off.”

Ira Gershwin

“When I see a spade, I call it a spade.”

Oscar Wilde

Words matter. In all the sciences, most of the humanities, and at least music, 1 + 1 = 2. In the theatre, and especially in the language of the actor and teacher of acting, we can’t even agree on the numbers, let alone what they might add up to. Most readers of this journal are likely familiar with Doug Mosten’s book The Actor’s Thesaurus. This useful book is only the most obvious evidence of the lack of clarity in how we talk about what we do. You say “intention,” he says, “objective,” she says “action,” you say “activity.” Bit, beat, tactic, need–let us, at last, call the whole thing off!

What is wanted is a coming to terms within our field. All of us have our preferences, but until our discourse has clear, comprehensible, and agreed-upon terms, we cannot be taken seriously as a discipline. Imagine a elementary school in which in one classroom children are taught 1, 2, 3, while in the room across the hall, the kids are shouting, *, &, @. “That’s just the way I teach it,” says the teacher. That, in essence, is what is and has been going on in acting since nearly the beginning.

A colleague reminds me that we are talking about art and that it is by nature elusive. It IS elusive, it IS difficult to define. All the more reason to go about it.

In the coming year, I hope to engage my professional and/or academic colleagues in a discussion about the language we use to teach and discuss what we do. What do we mean by acting? What do we mean by action? Character? It will no doubt be a long and challenging discussion. So, let us delay no longer.

Paul Kassel

Managing Editor

In this issue I have inaugurated the practice of inviting professional actors to write an article that deals specifically with how they work. These invited articles occur outside the peer review process we employ with submissions about pedagogy or practice. Tony Freeman, a professional actor in New York City, is our first contributor, writing an article about how to keep a performance fresh over the course of a long run.

The Players Journal is an outlet for articles, and book and performance reviews on the art of acting. We welcome thoughtful, well-written material in any style. Peer review on material submitted is based upon the content of the submission and its contribution to further understanding of the art of acting. We realize that many of our contributors are themselves practitioners, teachers, and students of the art of acting and it is their knowledge of craft which we seek. Please submit all materials as a word attachment to mcounts@lyon.edu.

Michael L. Counts, Editor

Lyon College

Discovering Subtle Nuances and a Variety of Choices in Preparation of Audition Monologues: A Fresh Look at Familiar Concepts

By Biliana Stoytcheva-Horissian

Through the years of teaching acting and coaching young and experienced actors for auditions, I have discovered that performers often work with the first choice for the character that comes to mind, especially when preparing a monologue for audition. Although they often do their “homework,” researching and analyzing the play and the character they are portraying, actors usually, consciously or not, select a choice with which they are most comfortable. As a result, they often “get stuck” during the rehearsal process and feel that there is nothing more that they can bring to the character and the piece. Thinking that they have considered all possibilities prevents them from freely exploring and discovering the full potential of the monologue.

Observing actors struggling with fruitless repetitions and consequently losing interest in the selected piece provoked me to begin experimenting with a new approach to familiar concepts during rehearsals and coaching sessions. The approach brought back the interest and excitement of the first interaction with the piece, helped actors discover subtle nuances, unveiled new levels of expression, and allowed for a variety of physical and vocal choices, some of which they were able to utilize during their audition presentations later. After experimenting with conventional and non-traditional methods during acting classes and coaching sessions, I selected the exercises that have proven to have an immediate impact on the actors and inspire new character choices in auditionees. I created a sample model for an acting workshop and presented modified versions of it at several major theatre venues, and the response of students, teachers, and acting and directing practitioners who attended the events and participated in (or observed) the activities was overwhelmingly enthusiastic.

The simplicity of the workshop is what makes it so successful. The basic acting terminology is familiar, and the exercises are easy to follow. Participants who have had at least minimal exposure to acting would already be acquainted with basic concepts explored throughout the workshop. Novices will be introduced to the basic acting principles during the introduction of each exercise. Therefore, anyone—from inexperienced actors to seasoned performers, teachers, or directors—can utilize the suggestions and exercises and adapt them to their work on audition material later.

The monologues used for exploration may vary from a new piece that is handed to the actor on the spot to a monologue that actors know well and have already used for audition. In an educational setting, I ask students to work with a piece they have already memorized and know well. It relaxes them and frees their hands, allowing them to move without restraint. Yet, at conventions and other professional venues, I bring a folder with a variety of contemporary monologues and ask participants to pick the first piece that they touch. Therefore, they are emotionally detached from the monologue and can look at it objectively. However, in both cases, the process is similar and the outcome is the same.

The structure of the workshop involves repeated patterns throughout the session. First, actors are asked to read the monologue and, based on their understanding of the piece and the situation, to make an initial bold choice for the character. Afterward, they are led through the eight exercises but asked to debrief and share their observations after each one of them. Each exercise involves quick shifts in direction, which challenges the initial choice that the actor made for the character or brings new ideas that have not been considered at all. At the end, actors are asked to read/perform their monologue without any restraints. The final performance is quite different from their initial response to the piece, mostly because, unintentionally, the actors have added new levels to their performance.

The structure of the workshop is transcribed below and includes initial instructions, steps in each exercise, most common responses and shared observations on the immediate effects on the actor, and focus of discussion after each series of exercises outlining the specific goals.

Instructions given to participants:

The major goals of the workshop are threefold: a.) to expose participants to variety of approaches that will help them come to terms with the limitations they voluntarily or involuntary tend to set for themselves; b.) to discover subtle nuances and variety within the piece; c.) to inspire them to look into other possibilities and techniques for “shaking up” an audition monologue in the future.

Considerations and conditions for success:

1. Actors need to follow directions precisely, keep an open mind, and let themselves explore and improvise without trying to control the outcome of the performance or search for a particular result.

2. Not all exercises work for all monologues, but the process of experimenting brings questions, new ideas, and understanding of different elements in the piece. Realization that some approach does not work for the monologue should be considered a positive experience rather than a problem.

3. There is no right or wrong choice for the character; there is no wrong way to do the exercises (except to not commit fully to them). The natural response and the forthcoming alterations in physicality, voice, emotions, and thought process are necessary and welcomed. After the conclusion of each exercise, they will be intentionally discussed.

4. If two people are doing the same exercise and using the same monologue, their responses may be very different depending on their understanding of the piece and their initial choices for the character.

5. Actors need to be able to observe and reflect on the changes that each exercise or series of exercises will bring to the piece or their own performance. If necessary, their process can be videotaped or recorded on a tape recorder to be reviewed or listened to later.

6. Actors can truly learn from each one of the approaches only if they keep an open mind and realize that these exercises are meant to be used as a rehearsal tool rather than as a performance technique.

A natural connection exists between body, mind, voice, and feelings. Therefore, some exercises are focused on bringing awareness of physical, vocal, and overall energy changes that naturally come out of the different intentions, tensions between people communicating with each other, or a specific situation and the subsequent effect on the acting choice. Other exercises aim to bring an understanding of the language and speech of character, character personality, or overall style of the piece. Still, the main goal of the workshop is to break the actors away from the typical mechanical choices that limit their flexibility and exploration while at the same time allow them to either confirm the validity of the choice they already made for the character or suggest other ways better suited for the monologue. The variations of the exercises are infinite and the possibilities to explore are endless.

There is no need to go through the whole monologue each time when a new exercise is introduced. Returning to the beginning of the piece and working with the same section every time assists in noticing alterations instantly.

Exercises

1. Contrasting Objectives/Intentions

Directions

The exercise leads you to experiment with different objectives, shifting from one to another and juxtaposing and comparing the effects each one of them brings to the body, voice, and overall energy of the piece. Read through the beginning paragraph/section of the monologue committing to one objective at a time. When you perform the paragraph with it, go back to the beginning and start again committing fully to the changed objective. Do not mix objectives but work with one simple intention each time:

- Attack

- Defend yourself with every line

- Apologize

- Make the listener laugh

- Flirt

- Put somebody down

- Explain

General Observations:

Most common observations are focused on the immediate effect each change inflicts on the body, voice, and overall energy of the performance. Some objectives, like attack or put somebody down are more active, raise the level of energy up, and involve aggressive movement and direct contact. They carry with them vocal power, assertiveness, and focus. Other objectives like defend, apologize, or explain introduce vulnerability through subtle physical and vocal changes, restricted and reserved physicality, quiet yet compelling vocal power, interrupted speech pattern, and an overall feel of uneasiness and tension. Trying to “make the listener laugh” or “flirt” brings a new challenge to the physical life of the character requiring slight exaggeration, variation in pitch and phrasing, and playfulness, shifting the attention from the speaker to the listener.

Discussion Focus:

Most actors know that they need to find a clear intention for the character and play their objectives, but often they fail to realize how different objectives influence the reading of the same piece, the physical and vocal choices, vocal pattern, body mannerisms, and overall energy. Quick alterations of objectives allow the actor to note especially the difference in the “stakes” and discover the most effective objective for the monologue. Certainly, the listed objectives may or may not work with the meaning of a monologue but each attempt may bring an understanding of specific moment or line in the monologue when characters change tactics or shift objectives in order to communicate their intention or needs.

2. Different Listener

Directions

Every monologue is a part of a dialogue and as such requires communication between characters. Different “listeners” affect the way the monologue is delivered depending on the interaction between characters and the attitude the character’s companion in the scene. Read the same part of the monologue changing the person whom you are talking to and noting the physical, vocal, and other alterations which each choice brings:

- Character’s best friend

- Character’s worst enemy

- 4 year old child

- Crowd of soldiers

- 80 year old lady who has trouble hearing

- Self

General Observations

This is another exercise that specifically affects the actor’s physical and vocal responses. The body movement and energy fluctuates from comfortable and relaxed, to direct, aggressive, and forceful, to nice, large, and gentle, to restrained or descriptive, or simple and natural. The voice and the speech pattern also change from conversational and subdued to crisp and articulate, to quiet and relaxing, to loud and powerful. The overall feel and energy of the dialogue also changes from open and relaxed to tensed and uncomfortable.

Discussion Focus

If actors pick their own monologues, they most likely would have read the play and know to whom the character was speaking and what they were trying to achieve, so there would not be much flexibility in identifying the “listener.” This is the reason why actors do not often experiment with the point of view that the other person brings to the scene. Yet experimenting with the listener allows them to notice the natural effect and important changes in the body and voice that different listeners produce on the speaking character, and identify the most effective choice for the listener. The exercise can be used to identify the exact relationship and the level of comfort that exists between the two (or more) characters in the scene.

3. Varied Emotions and Moods

Directions

As actors we have been taught that we should not play a feeling but allow the feelings to come naturally as a secondary element to objectives, physical actions, and communication goals. The following exercise does not challenge this notion but rather uses it to support the statement by examining the effect each emotion has on physicality and vocal choices. Perform a section while focusing on a single overwhelming feeling at a time. Start over, completely changing the emotion, and observe the changes:

- Sad, on the verge of tears

- Extremely happy and excited

- Angry

- Tired

- Laughing throughout the piece

General Observations

The first observation usually proves how hard it is to play just one emotion at a time. The next usually focuses on the complete change in energy level and focus of the performance. The excited or angry emotional states engage a full body motion and brings forward big, sharp, quick movement, although the angry person’s movement is often more aggressive, quick, and demanding, rather than the relentless, jumping, active, and overwhelmingly energetic movement of the happy person. The voice changes as well from loud, crisp, and articulated to quick delivery, shallow breathing, and often the fluctuation of tone and use of upper register. In contrast, the tired or sad choices are somehow similar as to the affect on the tempo and rhythm of expression and movement, limiting the variations in pitch and movement, multiplying the use of pauses, and bringing the volume down. Laughing throughout the piece is hard to sustain and sometimes creates a problem with understanding the words, but usually provokes ideas for how to shift an overwhelmingly dark and gloomy piece and bring some variety and hope to it or how to make sure you are understood even when you laugh.

Discussion Focus

Often when working on a monologue, young actors tend to be caught in the overall emotion of the piece and their performance becomes flat; but after concluding the exercise, it becomes obvious that no piece carries a single emotion for the character. Characters are human beings who may experience rapid shifts in emotions from one thought to another or who often experience conflicting emotions at the same time. The exercise allows the actor to add nuances and variety by finding moments in the monologue when the character experiences mixed emotions, or copes with pain by finding humor in the situation. Playing with one strong emotion at a time also makes the changes in voice and body, when a person is overwhelmed by extreme emotions, noticeable and welcome.

4. Isolating Words and Apprehending Word Choices

Directions:

The exercise breaks away from the previous pattern of specific observations of physical and vocal changes as used before and focuses the attention to the language of the monologue, examining words and word usage in the text in order to bring an understanding of word choices and the overall feel of the monologue. It requires placing an unusually strong emphasis on a particular part of speech. Read the whole monologue while deliberately emphasizing only:

- Verbs

- Pronouns

- Adjectives

- Nouns

General Observations:

Most monologues that are packed with verbs focus on the action and the quick transition from one event to another. Emphasis on the verbs clarifies the series of actions and the build of the arch. Monologues that are heavy on pronouns encourage juxtaposition of characters in the story and provide a clear understanding of relationships and actions of the characters. A piece full of adjectives is usually rich in images, descriptions, and atmosphere. Strong emphasis on nouns often does not produce any meaningful or memorable result.

Discussion Focus:

Working with particular emphasis disrupts one’s routine reading of a monologue; thus breaking her/him away from an already established habit in phrasing the monologue. It is one of the most difficult exercises to do since typically no one speaks by stressing a particular part of speech. A reading with certain focus allows the actor to easily recognize the nature of the piece and discover where the power of the monologue lies. This exercise serves two purposes: It allows an in-depth understanding of language, imagery, and relationships, and it helps the actor appreciate her/his character and her/his language and word choice.

5. Relating Speech to Movement

Directions

Another exercise that focuses on text incorporates specific movements that are associated with each line or phrase. While the previous exercise was focusing on parts of the speech and the ambiance they bring to the piece; the following exercise requires a mechanical movement with specific words in order to identify the character’s thought process. Stay in a line facing in the same direction as everyone else.

- Read through the monologue, taking a simple small step with each sentence.

- Go back and start reading but take a step with each new idea.

General Observation

The sentence step exercise allows actors to see and kinesthetically experience the way their characters are speaking. Some characters use long, continuing, complicated sentences. Other characters speak with monosyllabic expressions, two-word sentences, or by interrupting themselves all the time. The interpretation can vary from people having trouble expressing themselves to people being cautious about what they say and who is listening to them. The idea step on the other hand, allows the discovery of the few important ideas in the monologue. Often actors tend to skip major ideas or make each sentence sound as important as any other without realizing where one point starts and where it ends.

Discussion Focus

The two exercises provide actors with great insights into the personalities of their characters as well as their word choices and way of speaking. It is up to the actors to make the conclusions, but the exercise brings their attention to the words and the phrasing, assisting them in recognizing the acting beats in the monologue. Staying in a line with other actors allows them to compare their character’s speech with the speaking pattern of other characters, observing their own place in a line at the end of the monologue in comparison to others. Some actors at the end of the monologue are still relatively close to their initial position, while others are rapidly advancing across the room.

6. Exploring Place, Atmosphere, and Conditioning Forces

Directions

The following exercise requires attention to be placed on the atmosphere, place, and environment in which the action is taking place. The setting must be changed to distinctive locations, which introduce different conditioning forces every time. Perform the monologue imagining that your character is:

- In a noisy bar late at night

- Alone (or with a partner) in the woods

- On the sidewalk at a crowded street

- In a movie theatre

- On the beach while sun tanning

General Observations

Most often the change of the place shifts the attention of the actor from her/him to the external influences that affect the physical and vocal life of the character. While the noisy bar and the crowded street will necessitate some vocal adjustments to overcome the noise, the beach and the woods have a relaxed and almost lethargic effect on the physical choices and vocal quality. The enforced awareness of people around the character, their proximity, and their influence on the character affect especially volume, enunciation, and the word choice of the character. The time of day and the surroundings inevitably bring certain intensity to the mood and the disposition of the character.

Discussion Focus

Exploration of place makes the actor become acutely aware of the situation, other people, and the appropriateness or not of the character’s speech for a particular environment. The exercises confirm the necessity of making a choice for the environment in which the action takes place and finding the nuances each location stimulates. It also brings a strong understanding of the language the character uses to express her/himself and communicate with others.

7. Style and Genre

Directions

The next approach focuses on “playing” with different performance styles and genres and asks the actors to vary the major style of expression (Note: Because the exercise presupposes knowledge of styles, periods, and performance conventions, it can be modified or omitted while working with less experienced performers.) Perform the contemporary monologue as:

- Greek tragedy

- Musical

- Opera

- Physical comedy/Slapstick/Farce

- Melodrama

- Commedia dell’Arte stock character

General Observations

The stylized, selective, and ritualistic style of the Greek tragedy is juxtaposed to the flexible, presentational, dance-like mood of the musical (every attempt should be made to sing and dance throughout the performance/reading); the strong focus on vowels and grand movement and presence of opera, and the utterly physical, ridiculous, and exaggerated aspect of slapstick and farce are explored back to back to emphasize contrast. The melodrama or the “soap-opera” style often brings attention to pauses, facial expressions, and the dramatic quality of the monologue, while the mask worn by using the stock characters to unveil the backbone of the piece and the personality of the character.

Discussion Focus

I use contemporary monologues as canvas so that actors do not need to consider requirements for any historical period or particular style of acting; therefore adjustment of style becomes one of the most difficult yet fun exercises to execute. The overall purpose of the exercise is to take the actor out of the comfort zone and make her/him freely explore big movement and gestures in an “over the top” performance that often leads itself to relaxation, fun, and playfulness not necessarily present at the beginning of the workshop. It is important that the actors do this exercise toward the end of the workshop. By then, they have realized that there are no wrong or right choices or that they cannot make a mistake and they commit fully to the experimentation allowing subtle nuances suggested by the monologue to come through.

8. Character’s Personality

Directions

The final exercise takes the most time to explore yet gives the most specific suggestions for a variety of acting choices while working on developing realistic characters. The focus is placed on personal characteristics that define the character. The exercise may be used as listed below: exploring only one change in each of the four categories, juxtaposing the immediate modification that comes out of focusing on a single element of characterization; or it may be used as four separate exercises, each one focusing on one of the four categories listed below and exploring a wide variety of options in each one of them.

- Change character’s age

- Explore various personality traits

- Switch gender

- Experiment with occupation

General Observations

The age change needs to involve a major shift from specific periods of human life, including very young age, middle age, and a character in their 70s or 80s. A selection of age difference that is too small, such as from 35 to 45 years old, would not have the same effect because the physical, vocal, or emotional changes would be almost unnoticeable. The more extreme the personality traits suggested, the more sharp the contrast between the characters. For example, selection of types such as “control freak,” “submissive type,” “always trying to avoid conflict,” “solution/action oriented,” or “gentle and insecure” suggest a specific focus and strong choice. Each change affects each of the components examined earlier: rhythm, pace, temperament, energy level, thought process, feelings, vocal expression and phrasing, physical adjustments, stance, posture, comfort level, etc. Experimenting with gender or occupation provides information on the implication and significance of ideas and topics argued in the monologue.

Discussion Focus

This is the ultimate exercise that provides the actor with the opportunity to discover subtle and/or major changes and alterations in character’s physicality, vocal choices, temperament, and specific characteristics while focusing on details and nuances. The disposition of characters, individual desires, and personal tendencies influence significant physical and vocal adjustments. The exercise strongly challenges an actor’s ability to find subtle changes and find variety in expression.

Conclusion

Usually, the workshop lasts 45 to 60 minutes. The exercises used in the workshop may be altered and used for a variety of purposes. New objectives can be added; other personality traits may be explored. The process of discovery may be continued with exploration of given circumstances, subtext, use of prop pieces, costume changes (even as simple as changing the shoes), stage directions, and many others, and each change will have a specific effect on the acting choices bringing new ideas. There are no limits as to what can be included in the activities, as long as the exercises provide a quick shift of activities and focus, which in turn produce noticeable contrasting choices that are immediately acknowledged and discussed. Interestingly enough, as a secondary effect, I’ve noticed that the workshop helps with memorization. In the cases in which the material has been assigned, by the end of the workshop, the text almost always has been completely memorized.

Sometimes there is a natural resistance to do only one thing at a time or focus your energy in a single direction. As actors, we are trained to always search for variety and nuances, but the key to the workshop is to focus all energy to one element at a time. While it has been proven that it was beneficial to have somebody lead participants through the exercises and interrupt the activities for a brief discussion of observations and experiences where all of them share their findings, I believe that any actor can use the approach on her/his own as well. If done individually, one may wish to write down observations and findings between exercises, videotape or record the process, or simply explore the moment and the changes.

The workshop is structured to begin with concepts that all actors understand and relate to: objectives, goals, identifying listener, exploring style and character personality. These are all given as required considerations when rehearsing a monologue. The non-expected quick shift from one to another gives a new perspective to the old experience. Exercises become the basis for change, development, growth, and experimentation. Rather than providing the answers, the activities provoke new choices, new ideas, and further exploration. Rather than helping to stabilize the piece, they shake it up by questioning the already established habits and preconceived acting choices. Rather than finalizing the process, they begin a new one—a revitalizing and energizing approach to a monologue that later, with a slight adjustment, can be applied to work on a scene, or on a whole production.

Biliana Stoytcheva-Horissian, MFA, Ph.D. serves as a Department Chair at Emory & Henry College where she teaches acting and movement. An accomplished actor who has performed and conducted master classes nationally and internationally, she has presented numerous acting workshops at regional and national conferences. Her research and artistic interests include Comedy, Molière, Acting Pedagogy, and Eastern European Absurdism.

Inner Monologue: Creating Connection and Commitment

By Rob Roznowski

A commonly forgotten approach for teachers of acting may be the one tool that actors use daily; incessantly perhaps. Rather than teaching a student to retrain their way of thinking to include foreign concepts and vocabulary like objectives and tactics, the instructor of acting may instead concentrate on an approach to acting that is most comprehensible and universal—inner monologue. The concept is so resonant because it is such a part of the non-actor’s life. In fact, you are using it right now as you read this, true? Inner or interior monologue is the unending chain of unspoken thoughts that consume and inspire a person throughout life—whether onstage or off.

These exercises were developed when I began to make connections related to inner monologue. I realized that nearly every answer to the questions I posed in class as well as most of my notes when directing a production related to the actor’s inner monologue choices. I also found, that the introduction of inner monologue was usually the first time that most beginning actors understood what acting was all about. It also struck me that by asking the actor to speak what is normally unspoken; the instructor gains a complete understanding of the choices an actor makes.

I began experimenting with the most private of an actor’s tool– inner monologue. These exercises were adapted, developed and implemented into a full semester course devoted to inner monologue exploration. While some of these exercises may best be utilized in upper level acting studios, the main thrust of each—to honestly connect to a character’s psychology or logic—may be used by an actor of any level of training.

Criticism of such an immersion into this element of acting usually stems from the idea that actors concentrating on inner monologue are solely head-centered and lack any spontaneity or connection to the other onstage. I have tried to address this misconception in the following exercises and can only hope that an instructor attempting this kind of study constantly remind the “inner monologuing” actor that his chain of thought is completely inspired by the choices of his fellow actors and environment.

Introductory Text Analysis Exercises—The following exercises are introductory exercises that explore the thought process of the character. Most of the following may be done as preliminary exercises in scene study. They usually were implemented once the students had read the play that their scene would be taken from but before they had been assigned or made choices in the actual scene.

Choices Exercise: This is the first exercise to introduce logic and psychology that inform inner monologue. When the partners are prepared to receive the information, have one actor “A” slowly read the first line of dialogue in an unemotional tone. The other actor “B” will offer three possible and plausible yet divergent responses to this line. Then “B” looks to the script for the actual scripted line. “A” remains focused on “B” and does not jump ahead to look at the next line. This process is quite lengthy and emotionally exhausting, but following the exercise the actors have begun to make connections as to how this character “thinks.” Instructor and actor will begin to understand the thought process/inner monologue of the character. By the end of this exercise actors usually begin to offer only one response that is in complete agreement with the script.

Experiment with Text: Have two actors slowly read the scene while “A” and “B” follow physical impulses on their feet as they quietly speak their inner monologue. The actors reading the scene may make choices that inspire movement (gesture or blocking) that informs “A” and “B.” You may also ask “A” and “B” to perform their movements silently. They simply concentrate on the connection of line-to-line logic. Actors may discover any physical impulse is entirely related to inner monologue. They may discover that their usually static choices are justified by a strong and connected inner monologue. Another benefit is that actors are forced to listen to the text read by others and begin to make their own logical psychological choices.

Subtext vs. Inner Monologue: These two terms, sometimes used interchangeably, couldn’t be more different. The subtext (literally meaning “below the written word”) requires lines in order to exist as part of the actor’s tools while inner monologue continues throughout. Sometimes the subtext and the inner monologue may be at odds. A clear explanation of these concepts by the instructor is required before attempting this exercise where the actors sit opposite each other verbalizing their inner monologue before each line. They then say the line followed by its subtext. The actor then returns to inner monologue. This pattern continues for both actors throughout the scene. By carefully exploring the differences between inner monologue and subtext, the actor will develop a keen understanding of these differing concepts.

Text Clues: Search for clues in the text when a character is alone, unguarded or most honest. Those basic moments like Blanche DuBois’ Act I Scene 1 confession while alone onstage are the essence of the character’s vocabulary. Her line, “I’ve got to keep hold of myself!” rather than her usual flowery language reveals the character’s true inner monologue vocabulary. The actor must begin to think in the language or images of the character. Too often our smartest actors make each character as intelligent as they are. This exercise is a way to avoid such similarities. An actor must adapt the language used in formulating the character’s inner monologue to truly immerse oneself in the character. This includes the eschewing of all contemporary or colloquial references that are at odds with the text.

Conceptual Exercises— The following exercises should be used after the actors have memorized their lines and completed basic analysis like scoring of objectives. These exercises all address practical aspects of scene study.

In and Out: To ensure that your actors are truly connected to their work, allow them to begin their scene and then at various intervals ask them to stop. They should remain connected to each other and immediately launch into their inner monologue. At your signal, they then resume their lines. Repeat this process throughout the scene. Students immediately are committed and concentrated. This kind of side-coaching reveals to the instructor the level of understanding of the scene and the choices of the actors.

Obstacles/Tactics/Given Circumstances/Wins/Losses: Have actors relate all inner monologue to each of theses categories or concepts. For example an inner monologue related to tactics flows something like “How can I get her to understand? She isn’t buying this!” An actor may frame his inner monologue for wins or losses as, “I have to beat this situation. Why can’t I prove my superiority?” The residual gain includes insurance that your actors understand the concepts of obstacles, tactics, circumstances and more. It also forces the actor to consider new choices as they overcome obstacles, employ new tactics or secure a victory.

Transition Exercise: This is the exercise that began this whole process for me. Whenever a beat changed in a scene you could feel the grinding of gears from the actors as they shifted to a new subject. This common problem is solved immediately by inner monologue. Whenever a beat changes an actor may verbalize inner monologue. This exercise creates logic and reveals if an actor is cutting corners like “Oh, I should change the subject!” which can rarely be used in transitions. The outcome forces the actor to understand the justification during each transition making for a smoother and more logical scene.

Vocal and Physical Exercises: To incorporate vocal and physical work from other classes instruct the actors to relate their inner monologue to vocal and physical subjects. For example, “I need to get closer to her!” or “I must sound like a leader!” This kind of detail allows actors to make unique and larger changes in vocal and physical characteristics.

UN-Head-Centered Exercises—The major criticism of inner monologue based work is that it may create head-centered actors. The following exercises address this misconception.

Sensory Exercises: Using music, tactile objects, smells, or visual assistance encourage the actor to allow only these stimuli as inner monologue. By releasing the actor from language-based self-written inner monologue the actor may be liberated in making choices. For example have a picture of Belle Reve haunting Blanche and Stella throughout their first scene or have an open bottle of liquor between them as they try to chat.

Focus on Other: This exercise is the best way to force the actor to react impulsively to the scene partner. Instruct actors to make all inner monologue choices relate to their scene partner. By focusing their choices on the reaction of the other, the actor makes purely impulse related choices. This kind of reactionary inner monologue ensures listening and responding.

Single Word: This is an exercise in simplifying the inner monologue process. Have another person shout out one word that will serve as inner monologue as the actors perform the scene. By getting down to basics the actors usually make bolder choices. Again, this exercise frees the actor and can overcome the sometime plodding pace of an actor concentrating on inner monologue.

Inner Dialogue: This exercise is perhaps the most effective of all those collected in this article. It educates the beginning actor on the commitment needed for the best acting and inspires the best actors to make different choices. Have other actors whisper inner monologues in the ear of the actors performing the scene. The actors must work with the new inner monologues and justify it in their choices. This exercise is perfect for injecting new life into a stale scene as students are introduced to new choices. A teacher may also address actor problems by instructing the whispering actors to concentrate their inner monologue to specific issues.

By introducing your students to all or any of the exercises explained in this article, you may find a new respect for this sometimes forgotten tool. The inner monologue work is a universally understood approach to acting that can inspire the beginner and deepen the advanced actor. By establishing that your actors are using inner monologue, you ensure that your students have true commitment and connection to the character and scene.

Rob Roznowski serves as the Head of Acting and Directing at Michigan State University. He also served as the National Education and Outreach Coordinator for Actors’ Equity Association.

Konstatin Stanislavsky and Michael Chekhov:
Realism and Un-Realism

By Richard E. Kramer

Michael Chekhov (1891-1955), the nephew of the great Russian playwright Anton Chekhov, met Konstantin Stanislavsky (1863-1938), the famous acting theorist, teacher and director, in St. Petersburg in 1911. Chekhov, an aspiring actor, was just twenty, but he had already been studying acting for four years. Introduced to Stanislavsky by Olga Knipper-Chekhova, the playwright’s widow, the young Chekhov auditioned for the man who had founded the Moscow Art Theater, and was accepted as a member. In 1912, he joined the First MAT Studio where Stanislavsky personally taught the young actor the basics of his System. By 1924, the First Studio had become the Second Moscow Art Theater with Chekhov as the Director. In only a dozen years, Michael Chekhov had risen from obscurity to a position almost in competition with the man who started the whole business.[1]

Though Chekhov started as a disciple of the Stanislavsky System, he soon found himself rejecting some of his teacher’s principles. By the time he became head of the Second MAT, he had developed the base of the Technique which he subsequently taught at the Chekhov Theatre Studio at Dartington Hall in England and in Ridgefield, Connecticut, in the United States and which he outlined in his 1953 book, To The Actor.[2] The areas in which the two men differ are interesting not only in themselves, but as a comment on the theatrical worlds they inhabited, for although Stanislavsky was less than thirty years older than Chekhov, much had changed on the European stage during a very short time.

Stanislavsky began his search for a System of actor training in the late nineteenth century. An actor and director, he became dissatisfied with the undisciplined, narcissistic performances he saw on the stages of Moscow and St. Petersburg. In 1897, Stanislavsky met with Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko, one of Russia’s most famous directors and playwrights, and laid the foundations for the Moscow Art Theater. In his autobiography, My Life in Art, Stanislavsky gives an idea what he disliked about his contemporary theater:

“Take actor A,” we examined each other. “Do you consider him talented?”

“To a high degree.”

“Will you take him into the troupe?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because he has adapted himself to his career, his talents to the demands of the public, his character to the caprices of the manager, and all of himself to theatrical cheapness. A man who is so poisoned cannot be cured.”

“And what will you say about actress B?”

“She is a good actress, but not for us.”

“Why?”

“She does not love art, but herself in art.”

“And actress C?”

“She won’t do. She is incurably given to hokum.”

“What about actor D?”

“We must pay a great deal of attention to him.”

“Why?”

“He has ideals for which he is fighting. He is not at peace with present conditions. He is a man of his ideals.”[3]

The MAT opened its first production, Tolstoy’s Tsar Fyodor, in October 1898, and Stanislavsky began his search to bring “inner truth to the art of the stage” which led to the development of his famous System.[4] He started experimenting with the newly discovered science of psychology as a basis for stage truth. Though he never taught a specific style of performance, developing his System to train actors to work truthfully in whatever style the role, play and production demands, he was personally most comfortable with Naturalism. In the conclusion of his autobiography, Stanislavsky writes,

Nature cannot be outwitted. Its true organic creativeness cannot be supplanted either by poverty-stricken or luxurious theatricality. A time will come when the evolution of art shall have completed its predestined circle and nature itself will teach us methods and technique for the interpretation of the sharpness of the new life.

In this evolutionary process of art we can help the new generation, for much that we have experienced is being repeated at present, and only differs in name from what we knew. The grotesque, synthesis, generalization, are not new phenomena in art; in one or another form they have lived always, at all times, among all innovators and revolutionists. . . . Did not the radical movement of the past which was called impressionism move art along the very same path which has brought it to futurism and the absolute? The forms and names are new, but the nature of evolution and its chief laws are the same.[5]

Obviously, Stanislavsky had a strong prejudice against anything non-Realistic, as his pejoration of Impressionism, one of the most active and creative movements in Western art, clearly indicates.

In 1906, after becoming disappointed with his own recent performances, Stanislavsky took a vacation in Finland. Relaxing on a cliff overlooking the sea, he tried to discover why he had become so lifeless on stage. He determined that he had lost the “creative mood,” but he did not know how to generate it at will. How, he wondered, could he “make this condition no longer a matter of mere accident . . .”? This was the germ of the System he devised to train an actor not only in stage craft, but in creativity. By 1911, when he founded the First Studio, the System had become accepted.[6] Stanislavsky’s System is founded on one major principle: “organic nature.” By this, Stanislavsky means “a psychic [i.e., psychological] technique which enables [the actor] to evoke a creative state of mind during which inspiration descends on him more easily.”[7] The actor’s work on himself, however, is not the only place in the System for psychology. The other half of it, the actor’s work on his role, also requires this “psycho-technique.” In order to portray life on stage truthfully, an actor has to study the play and, in effect, psychoanalyze the character he will play. It is Stanislavsky’s theory that all the character’s physical actions are manifestations of his psyche, and since an actor can only play physical actions, he must understand the character’s psyche. In order to give his theories a scientific basis, Stanislavsky actually studied psychology, particularly the teachings of Ivan Pavlov concerning conditioned reflexes, and neurophysiology, and the experiments of French psychologist Théodule Ribot.[8]

Chekhov, who was judged a brilliant actor by critics and peers alike, began to feel hemmed in by Stanislavsky’s System. His performances, beginning in 1921 with the part of Khlestakov in Nikolai Gogol’s The Inspector General, became less realistic and more complex. His portrayal of the title role in August Strindberg’s Erik XIV, directed in 1921 by Eugene Vakhtangov, was a major triumph in which Chekhov portrayed a highly complex character in a non-representational way. Vakhtangov said of this production,

This is an experiment of the Studio in its search for theatrical forms. Up until now the Studio, true to Stanislavski’s teaching, has doggedly aimed at obtaining mastery of inner experience; now the Studio is entering a period of search for new forms. This is the first experiment.[9]

The stylized nature of the production is easily seen from Nikolai Gorchakov’s description of the set:

The twisted columns of the palace, the spots of gold, the rust-spotted bronzes, gave an impression of Erik’s decline and impending death. There were huge columns of straight lines, broken off here and there; these were fragments not of a palace, but of a prison for Erik. There was a labyrinth of passages, stairways, and small platforms that created a distinct deception in relation to perspectives.[10]

The Vakhtangov-Chekhov production of Erik XIV gives an indication where the First Studio and its new director were heading. In 1924, the Second MAT presented Shakespeare’s Hamlet, directed by Chekhov who also played the leading role. The production was Expressionistic, and more like the work of the experimental director Vsevelod Meyerhold than that of Stanislavsky. Chekhov reinterpreted the play for an audience that had experienced revolution and war. He made large cuts in the script and trimmed the cast, focusing on what he saw as Hamlet’s examination of good and evil in human nature. The time was shifted to the Middle Ages, with a set that was “very stylized, almost nightmarishly phantasmagorical. Both lighting and music . . . were used to create its mystical atmosphere.” The stylized costumes were Constructivistic and “[e]xaggerated, mask-like make-up emphasized the spiritual hollowness of the court’s world, which was further underscored by the courtiers’ mincing gaits and artificial voices . . . .”[11] This production marked a nearly complete artistic break between Chekhov and Stanislavsky, whose System Chekhov felt led inevitably to Naturalism. That genre, Chekhov writes, “is not art, for the artist cannot bring anything from himself into a naturalistic ‘work of art’, that his task in such a case is limited to his ability to copy ‘nature’ more or less exactly.”[12]

Many people saw the production as an allegory for Chekhov’s own life. Having gone through a terrible period of emotional and psychological troubles requiring psychiatry and hypnosis, he turned to Eastern philosophy for comfort. In 1922, he began studying the teachings of Rudolf Steiner (1861-1925), a German “spiritual scientist.” Steiner’s theories of Anthroposophy, which posits that man has an innate spiritual nature operating independently of the will and the senses, and Eurythmy, “the science of visible speech” which makes perceptible what Steiner asserted were the internal expressions and gestures of language and music, generated when the spiritual world penetrates the soul, found their way into Chekhov’s workshops.[13] As a result of this influence, much of Chekhov’s Technique has a distinct mystical cachet.

Three years after Hamlet, as Joseph Stalin’s autocratic rule firmly took hold of all aspects of Russian and Soviet life, Michael Chekhov left the Soviet Union for good. He traveled around Europe until he established the Chekhov Theatre Studio at Dartington Hall in Devon, England, in 1936. He remained there until World War II forced his departure and he came to the United States in 1938 and reestablished his Studio in Ridgefield, Connecticut, where it continued until 1942, when Chekhov moved to Hollywood.[14]

In general, then, the two men differed in both form and philosophy, though, in a very real sense, their goals remained the same. Both aimed for truth on stage and a dedicated, disciplined company of well-trained actors. Stanislavsky, however, relied on psychology and science as the prime resources for gaining control over the work. He also applied his practices most avidly to Realistic and Naturalistic plays, not being happy with the MAT’s attempts at Symbolism or Expressionism. For Stanislavsky, “truth” was faithfulness to human behavior. Chekhov, on the other hand, taught his students to rely first on imagination and inspiration long before any analysis of their roles, and he encouraged non-Realistic, imagistic performances.[15] Taking Steiner’s words as a credo, Chekhov notes in To the Actor, “Not that which is inspires the creation, but that which may be; not the actual, but the possible.”[16]

We have already seen briefly that while Stanislavsky emphasizes that an actor must analyze his role in order to justify his behavior on stage, Chekhov stresses imagination. In order to permit his imagination to function fully, the actor must find the credulity and naïveté of a child or a primitive man.[17] In preparing a role, the actor using Stanislavsky’s System first must study the script to understand “its fundamentals, its essence, its literary merit.” The second step for this actor is to analyze the part before he goes on to the external circumstances and then the inner circumstances of the character. Only after all that study is accomplished does the Stanislavsky actor move on to the “Emotional Experience,” which includes the creative and imaginative work on the role.[18] Chekhov’s Technique mandates a different path. The actor’s first obligation is to allow her imagination to draw a picture of the character. Instead of seeing herself as the character, as the Stanislavsky actor should do, she must conjure up an image of the character. The second step in Chekhov’s Technique is inspiration, which occurs when the image has disappeared, but remains “somewhere” working within the actor.[19] Stanislavsky would never trust such vague tactics, which leave the psychological analysis until well after the imaginative work is begun.

Curiously, despite his stress on the ephemeral imagination, it is Chekhov who puts the greater stress on physical characterization. In Stanislavsky’s view, the character’s physical life develops slowly as the actor works on his part, becoming more specific as the actor learns the character’s motivations and objectives.[20] For the Chekhov actor, physical characterization is developed almost right away, based on a choice made from inspiration rather than analysis. Chekhov developed a theory concerning a character’s center, the locus of all her movements and energy. In life, each of us has a center, a place on (or, occasionally, in) our bodies from which emanates all our movements and gestures: it affects how we walk, sit, wave, bend and so on. It gives us the distinctive physicality that is our own, but the center can be artificially moved; dancers learn to move it permanently by constant exercise, and changes in our bodies, such as weight gain or injury, can shift the center’s location. By selecting a center for the character that is different from her own, the actor immediately begins to create a physical character who has her own way of moving, sitting, waving and bending. According to the Technique, this choice is made early in rehearsal—even before the first day. It may change as the work progresses, but the actor starts with some choice.[21]

Another item of difference between the Stanislavsky and Chekhov approaches is “Affective Memory,” which is sometimes called “Emotional Memory.” This is the technique of the System, shaped particularly by the theories of Ribot, by which an actor summons up a response to an imaginary situation by remembering a similar one from his real past.[22] By extension, this is the same as Uta Hagen’s “Substitution,” which can also be used for people, objects and places.[23] Chekhov felt that this was dangerous for the actor. “If we take the real image of our real [dying] grandfather,” he says to a student asking about the impulse to cry, “it becomes too personal in the wrong sense. You will get certain feelings, perhaps strong ones, but they will be of a different kind than we are aiming at in our work . . . .”[24] Chekhov’s alternative is what he calls the “Archetype.” By creating the image of the archetypal grandfather—an image of all grandfathers—the actor can draw on that image instead of a personal one. The availability of an Archetype for an actor depends entirely on the flexibility of her daily emotional life. She must have been open to experiencing all the grandfathers she ever met, read about or heard about, storing up the images in her imagination to be called upon later. Never, in the Technique, does the actor use a real person or event to create an emotional reaction.[25] Stanislavsky would most likely deem this device far too unreliable, despite the dangers inherent in Substitution.

There are several more specific differences in the way a Stanislavsky actor prepares a role and the way a Chekhov actor does, but, in a sense, the real difference is that Chekhov adapted the System to a more intuitive and inspirational approach. He actually kept most of the fundamentals of his old teacher’s program, reinterpreting some of the points and opening it up to less rigid application. He did, however, add a few devices that make his Technique more than just a restatement of the System. The most interesting by far, and the most telling in terms of Chekhov’s own life, is the Psychological Gesture. It is very closely related to the idea of the Archetype and to Steiner’s Eurythmy. Chekhov’s own description of the PG, as it is usually called, states,

Imagine that you are going to play a character which . . . has a strong and unbending will, is possessed by dominating, despotic desires, and is filled with hatred and disgust.

You look for a suitable over-all gesture which can express all this in the character, and perhaps after a few attempts you find it . . . .

It is strong and well shaped. When repeated several times it will tend to strengthen your will. The direction of each limb, the final position of the whole body as well as the inclination of the head are such that they are bound to call up a definite desire for dominating and despotic conduct. The qualities which fill and permeate each muscle of the entire body, will provoke within you feelings of hatred and disgust. Thus, through the gesture, you penetrate and stimulate the depths of your own psychology.

The gesture is seldom actually performed on stage, though it may be. It is merely an archetypal physicalization that serves as a metaphor for the character as the actor sees her. It is, of course, a secret for the actor; neither her fellow actors, the director, nor the audience is aware of it, but they can sense that something is working within the character that is not on the surface.[26] According to Chekhov, however, a gesture is not just a movement of the body. Objects, feelings and other elements are also gestures in his terms, opening up the possibilities of this device infinitely.[27]

Taken together, Stanislavsky’s System and Chekhov’s Technique can offer an actor a rich variety of artistic strategies which can suit most needs in any production style. The System’s preference for psychological Realism is possibly a function of the nineteenth-century interest in depicting real life in literature and on the stage. By the time Chekhov reached maturity, in the early decades of the twentieth century, movements such as Symbolism, Constructivism and Expressionism had made a mark in the artistic community of Europe. Realism and Naturalism had become the conservative style of the mainstream, while more experimental styles were the preference of the younger, more daring artists. Both programs can work for either camp; you simply take your choice: Realism or un-Realism.

Notes

My Hindu Connection to the Work of Michael Chekhov

By Anjalee Deshpande Nadkarni

In the Hindu tradition there are four paths to enlightenment. These paths are known as “Yoga” which literally translates to Union with God[28].

The four main spiritual paths for God-realization are Karma Yoga, Bhakti Yoga, Raja Yoga and Jnana Yoga. Karma Yoga is suitable for a man of active temperament, Bhakti Yoga for a man of devotional temperament, Raja Yoga for a man of mystic temperament, and Jnana Yoga for a man of rational and philosophical temperament, or a man of enquiry.[29]

Since I was young, I have always known that my path was through Jnana Yoga; the path of learning and knowledge. To this end, my work in the arts has always defined itself through the intellect. Communicating meaning through expression was always rooted in clarity of thought, and my understanding of this clarity meant a very specific way of knowing. A knowing that was centered on a three fold approach to acting, and subsequently directing. This approach was to embrace the text, research the subject matter and analyze the content of your findings. Only by employing these three vital devices could you truly understand and therefore embody the text. My error however, was embedded in the assumption that in order to communicate the material one must understand it intellectually first and foremost. My missing link in my work, as an actor as well as a director, has been this gap between the intellect; an understanding on a thinking level – and the body, an understanding on a physical level. Although my work was often thought provoking and quite engaging for an academic audience, it was often hit or miss on a more visceral experiencal level. Sometimes the audience was tangibly engaged and sometimes they were not. This was frustrating to me as an educator as well as an artist. The search for further knowledge led me to the work of Michael Chekhov and this workshop. My experience with the Michael Chekhov Institute had a profound effect on my new understanding of how to approach the work in order to most effectively gain control over quality and consistency. This workshop has challenged me to soften my grip on the intellect and embrace my other ways of knowing. These ways, include physical knowing, imaginative knowing and instinctual knowing. My new found awareness of these alternate methods of knowing are not just the next step on my educational journey, they are my keys to moving forward as an artist.

The physical component of the work has always been a bit of an enigma to me. It was the last piece of the show puzzle where if you do all your work, you can forget it and the inspiration will take shape through the body. Although I have found methods in which this alchemy was effective for me as an actor, in most cases it was always a toss up when teaching students new to theatre. They did not have the experience on engaging the body to communicate what the mind knows. This would lead to some frustrating rehearsals, and disappointingly, the occasional mediocre performance. What I learned from the workshop was that I was minimizing the order of physicality on an initial creative basis. Physicality was employed to serve the analysis made by the intellect. Through the practice of the tools of psychological gesture – I found my body demonstrating a high level of understanding – in some cases much higher then the mere “study” of psychological gesture alone would have accomplished. I remembered reading in Michael Chekhov’s To The Actor how he stressed the importance of the practice of the art, not just the study of it. Upon reading this I must admit I balked. However during our several workshop sessions which employed the techniques – I found myself learning more and more about the characters I was playing on a very primal level. It was as if the body knew what the mind did not – and it unlocked some very basic doors into the character work and scene study. This revelatory experience was demonstrated time and again through work on abstract movement, movement qualities, sensations and most importantly: psychological and archetypal gesture. These workshops demonstrated to me through physical practice which is what convinced me most of all. The revelation was then, “of course this is how an audience would also be convinced”. The physical aspect should be an early part of the process, not a servant to the intellect. Giving physicality a voice in the creative process creates strong performances consistently.

During one of the lectures given by Lisa Dalton on Michael Chekhov’s ideas on Image and the Body, I tentatively raised my hand to offer her a loop hole to the theory she was espousing in order for her to make an exception. Lisa was lecturing on how we do not give enough credit to the imagination and how if given room it will never abandon us, how imagination must be the starting point for the creative impulse. I offered my protest that in order to create – one must first start with the raw materials to create from. You cannot play a character from Siberia if you know nothing of Siberians. You must first do the research and then you can begin to create your character. Her response shocked me. She said if you can read the word “Siberian” off the page then that is as much information as you need to begin imagining what you need in order to create the character. I protested again, “Won’t you just leap to stereotypes?!?” I thought, imagining my students and their shallow interpretations of characters from a mere surface read. “Yes.” said Lisa simply. “And sometimes a stereotype is a great place to begin.” I began to connect this idea to my initial discoveries about the physical aspect of acting and started to realize how limiting it must be physically if we dictate a right and a wrong from the get go. With this constraint; a kind of “political correctness”; surely it must be difficult to explore freely. So why not be open to any and all ideas that come out of the imagination first. Why is the imagination so suspect? Why not delve into our own imaginative knowing as a valid font of information? This revelatory idea was once again proved to me through practice in the workshops. Mala Power’s workshop on atmosphere really opened my eyes to the idea that one’s imagination can fill any gap given enough room. My first day working with atmospheres – I was positive it would be another frustrating experience in improv, which has always been somewhat annoying to me. Thinking on my feet in art and in life was not nearly as enjoyable as creating from a more deeply thought-out place of creation. What I found was the idea that I was not trusting my imagination enough. That if I let go and come into an experience, like an atmosphere or a character rehearsal, with no preconceived notions then my imagination would actually fill in the gaps. Immediately on my first try coming into an atmosphere with no idea of how I would react – my imagination created a world for me with in which it was easy to find ways to respond. It was actually pretty surprising to me. And although I have been espousing similar ideas to my students I have not been as physical in my application as I could have been. Here again the ideas became very clear in their connection to each other. I recall Mala speaking on how time and again, in response to a director whose directions she did not enjoy or understand how Michael Chekhov gave her exercises she considered impossible to imagine (let yourself go into the dark to see this object better) and yet her imagination came through ( her imagination made the object glow in the dark). It became clear to me that I had been undervaluing the power of the imagination to really create as well as interpret from the very beginning of the process. Imagine first, research to support the imagination – not the other way around.

The last surprise to me was the idea of “instinct”. Instinct, in this definition, was the combination of the first two ways of knowing. Instinct was described as “The Imagination of the Body.” During my continued work with psychological gesture, archetypal gesture and abstract movement through out the week; I began to see a pattern of discovery that was beyond the level of words. That is to say, although one could not describe this feeling/idea, they could sense it on a deep and meaningful level. Lisa called it the “duh” moment. The moment of awe that is so readily accessible to children because they are so new to the world and its categories and definitions. This same moment that becomes so inaccessible to those who are older because we have carefully compartmentalized the whole world. Lisa used the example of science fiction and action movies as well as large Broadway theatre productions in which the feeling of awe is constructed through spectacle. Since our society is experiencing more and more in a moment to moment, sound byte/internet kind of way, it becomes increasingly difficult to create the experience of awe through spectacle. Each movie must have better technology than before. Each Broadway show must have some innovation for innovation sake and both film and theatre must be financially supported to the greatest degree possible. Yet even in this way, the audiences still are often left unsatisfied, because they can define the spectacle and therefore lose that feeling of awe. The performance leaves them hollow and unfulfilled. However, I began to find that this internal knowing on a physical level speaks to an audience on a very visceral very tangible way. It doesn’t require a great amount of money or spectacle to produce. What it requires is a commitment to the imagination of the body. Mala spoke to the idea that our perception of the imagination is pictorial; that when we are asked to imagine something we perceive the correct response as a conjuring of an image in our mind’s eye of the subject at hand. Very seldom is our first response to imagine the concept physically. That is, the acceptance that the imagination is much more than pictorial, it is also kinesthetic. That the body can not only have knowledge that we don’t conceive it has but that it is able to create on a level we don’t usually require it to do. This connection of the ideas of imagination and physicality was the most poignant breakthrough in my week’s work with the Michael Chekhov technique. The idea that we can process, discover, explore and create on a very high level of kinesthetics is remarkable. In terms of the audience, they may not know intellectually why they are moved by what they experience in the moment, but they are not required to, and neither is the artist. The important thing is the audience is moved by what they experience in the moment, and that this movement is tangible, regardless of if we can define it or not.

Jnana is not mere intellectual knowledge. It is not hearing or acknowledging. It is not mere intellectual assent. It is direct realization of oneness or unity with the Supreme Being. Intellectual conviction alone will not lead you to Brahma-Jnana (Knowledge of the Absolute).[30]

The spiritual aspect of The Michael Chekhov theory has palpable connections to Hindu Philosophy. The idea that intellectual knowledge is just one aspect of knowing is the exciting key to unlocking the mysteries of quality and consistency that I have been seeking. As an educator and as an artist, my work towards synthesis of these several ways of knowing will be the new challenge of my journey.

Man is a strange, complex mixture of will, feeling and thought. He wills to possess the objects of his desires. He has emotion and so he feels. He has reason and so he thinks and ratiocinates. In some, the emotional element may preponderate, while in some others, the rational element may dominate. Just as will, feeling and thought are not distinct and separate, so also work, devotion and knowledge are not exclusive of one another.

The Yoga of Synthesis is the most suitable and potent form of Sadhana (enlightenment) In the mind there are three defects, viz., Mala or impurity, Vikshepa or tossing and Avarana or veil. The impurity should be removed by the practice of Karma Yoga. The tossing should be removed by worship or Upasana. The veil should be torn down by the practice of Jnana Yoga. Then only is Self-realization possible. If you want to see your face clearly in a mirror, you must remove the dirt in the mirror, keep it steady and remove the covering also. You can see your face clearly in the bottom of the lake only if the turbidity is removed, if the water that is agitated by the wind is rendered still, and if the moss that is lying on the surface is removed. So too is the case with Self-realization.

The Yoga of Synthesis alone will bring about integral development. The Yoga of Synthesis alone will develop the head, heart and hand and lead one to perfection. To become harmoniously balanced in all directions is the ideal of religion. This can be achieved by the practice of the Yoga of Synthesis.

To behold the one Universal Self in all beings is Jnana, wisdom; to love this Self is Bhakti, devotion; and to serve this Self is Karma, action. When the Jnana-Yogin attains wisdom, he is endowed with devotion and selfless activity. Karma Yoga is for him a spontaneous expression of his spiritual nature, as he sees the one Self in all. When the devotee attains perfection in devotion, he is possessed of wisdom and activity. For him also, Karma Yoga is a spontaneous expression of his divine nature, as he beholds the one Lord everywhere. The Karma-Yogin attains wisdom and devotion when his actions are wholly selfless. The three paths are in fact one in which the three different temperaments emphasize one or the other of its inseparable constituents. Yoga supplies the method by which the Self can be seen, loved and served.[31]

My work with Michael Chekhov will be in the effort to make sure this self same purpose can be achieved. To me Michael Chekhov was also espousing the same ideals as the Hinduism through a theatrical eye. A methodology by which the theatre can nurture humanity. A method by which the actor, audience and self can be seen, loved and served.

Levels of Translations: Student Actors Interacting with Shadow Signers

By Lavinia Hart

“Brian Friel’s Translations parallels the Deaf experience as American Sign Language is an indigenous foreign language, constantly influenced and impacted on by English and de-valued by the dominant hearing culture.” Dan McDougall, Terp Theatre 1

“To impose another language on such a people is to send their history adrift among the accidents of translation.” Thomas Davis (1843) 2

“A translation is no translation, he said, unless it will give you the music of a poem along with the words of it.” John Millington Singe, The Aran Islands (1907) 3

These quotes from my directors notes became the basis of a remarkable rehearsal period for Brian Friel’s play Translations during Winter Semester, 2007. First-, second- and third- year MFA Actors in Wayne State University’s Hilberry Repertory Theatre Company were the cast members who rehearsed alongside Dan McDougall and Shelly Tocca, the founding members of Terp Theatre – a Detroit area organization that is committed to American Sign Language (ASL) interpreted theatrical performance. This article will take the reader through a narrative progression of the rehearsal process for a production that incorporated the signers into the action of the play. For this production I asked the signers to make a commitment to “translate” the full run of the play as opposed to a single performance. The interpretive skills of the signers in relationship to the actors became a central metaphor for the play’s major dramatic question: Is genuine communication possible between a dominant culture and a subjugated culture? The rehearsal process, including actors’ discoveries about ways to incorporate the shadow signers into the world of the play, may have value for those teachers and directors who are planning American Sign Language (ASL) interpreted performances and may inspire others to seek out the experience – whether it is for a single signed performance or an entire run of the show.

It is likely that as an actor, director or audience member you’ve experienced the performance of a play that includes an ASL interpretation for a target audience from the Deaf community. Signers, generally, are placed off to the side in their own lighting “special” while the action of the performance occupies the staging arena. The Deaf sit in a special section of the theatre in which the interpreters are an appendage to the play. “Placed” or “Platform” signing is the least effective aesthetic mode of interpretation for Deaf and hard of hearing audiences, as it creates a “ping pong effect” for the viewers receiving the interpretation at the side of the stage and moving their eyes to the center stage to catch the action of the play. For more information about the styles of signing, see Terp Theatre’s web site which is listed in the end citations.

As a director, it has been my experience when making a commitment to signed performances that Shadow Signing (a form of signing in which the interpreters move with the actors on stage) offers the highest aesthetic experience. As I learned from Shelly Tocca and Dan McDougall of Terp Theatre, Shadow Signing provides the best sight lines and Deaf patrons can sit anywhere in the house because the signers are an integral part of the performance. The quality of the experience is enhanced for the non-hearing and hearing audience members because Shadow Signers bring the focus back to the actors as they underscore their intentions, body language, emotional life, and relationship to their scene partners. For our production of Translations, two shadow signers divided the roles between them, changing gender, age and ethnicity as the text required.

Approximately a year before the first rehearsal, I wrote a few grant proposals to support a full run of Shadow-interpreted performances. This commitment included frequent participation by the signers in the rehearsal process as opposed to bringing the signers in for one or two rehearsals before asking them to do a single evening’s interpretation in a “Placed” mode. This endeavor was ultimately funded by the Marshall Fields/Macy’s Federated Department Stores Foundation and a grant from Dean Sharon Vasquez of the College of Fine, Performing and Communication Arts. The grants allowed us to bring on the founders of Terp Theatre. As a signing duo, Dan McDougall and Shelly Tocco are well trained, experienced and highly skilled performer/interpreters. In the 1980’s and 1990’s I worked with Dan and Shelly’s mentors Mary Wells and John Ray on several full seasons of zone signed productions at a local Small Professional Theatre in Detroit. Zone signing allowed the signers to move to areas of the stage in which the signers would approximate stage positions of the actors. Dan and Shelly refined their signing aesthetic over time to commit solely to interpreting through Shadow Signing. They also engage in apprenticing and training shadow signers who understudy their work and receive theatrical assignments in the greater Detroit theatre community. Translations would be my second full run production with them using Shadow Signing. The first experience was with The Miracle Worker, for Wayne State University’s undergraduate acting program at the Bonstelle Theatre in 2000. These performer/teachers of signed interpretation of stage plays would prove to be excellent collaborators for the graduate actors. The event of a fully signed production of a major work in the canon of Irish Theatre would prove to be ideal for a major tenant of our program’s mission to inspire student learning through practical experience.

Our project was also enhanced with support from three other areas of interdepartmental and inter-university participation. Stephen Stone, a Lecturer from the Wayne State University Dance Department contributed to the staging and choreography of four “signer moments” not in Friel’s text. In his career as a professional dancer, Stephen had pioneered an integrative work titled SEEING VOICES – A Dance Concert for Both a Deaf and Hearing Audience. His experience in signing and dance made him an invaluable, enthusiastic and skilled collaborator on the project. Chris Collins, an Associate Professor of Music for Wayne State University, composed and recorded an original score that gave the audience a sense of the clash of two cultures by juxtaposing Irish and British traditional music. He found the themes to be revealed by specific characters or atmospheres and wrote particular musical motifs that recur with the establishment of environment at the top of a scene or for a particular character’s entrance. He also wrote a beautiful lament for Ireland that played through the end of the play into the curtain call. Finally, our third collaborator came to us from Oakland University in the talented personage of Karen Sheridan, an Associate Professor of Theatre who is also a professional actor, director and dialect coach. She spent her summer break, 2006, in Ireland, researching dialects for the play and arrived at first rehearsal with an arsenal of dramaturgical information as well as dialect training tools. Karen had directed Translations years ago and had included Shelly and Dan in Shadow Signing a single performance. She was eager to see the experience expanded into a fully rehearsed and full run of Shadow Signed performance. It’s rare that as directors in an academic setting we can design ideal rehearsal conditions for an acting experience that takes our student actors out of the “box.” On the other hand, allowing ourselves to dream and do a little research in advance can result in grant awards that will support those dreams.

The Play Text

A thumbnail sketch of the play will be helpful in understanding references made regarding interaction between the student actors and Shadow Signers. Brian Friel sets his play in 1833 inside a Hedge School of a fictional village called Baile Beag in County Donegal. The new English language National Schools are about to open. Hedge Schools are being replaced by the English-speaking National Schools. The Hedge Schools were maintained by Irish peasants who wanted their children to have an education. The School Masters were men of the people who were revered because of their knowledge of Latin, Greek, history, mythology and philosophy, not to mention reading, writing, and mathematics. The School Masters taught their curriculum with the language of the people—Gaelic. The National Schools would forbid the use of Gaelic or, in terms of the people, Irish Language. With this as a backdrop, the inciting incident in the play comes with the arrival of the British Army to carry out the first Ordnance Survey in which all Irish name places will be changed to English name places. The convention in Friel’s play, in which all the characters actually speak English, is that the Irish characters perform with an Irish dialect and the English characters perform with a British dialect (Received Pronunciation). The signers used ASL with the Irish characters and Signed Exact English (SEE) with the British characters. When signers interpreted Greek and Latin quotes, they signed the language source and then the content or the effect of the content on the characters. Hugh, the School Master, has two sons – Manus, the elder son, has given his life to helping his father. Owen, the younger son, left Baile Beag to work in Dublin and has now returned as the local interpreter for the British army to facilitate the Ordnance Survey. Sarah is a waif-like young Irish woman who is considered to be mute by the people of the village. Manus has taken a special interest in teaching her to speak. Over the course of the play speech becomes a skill Sarah chooses to use and not to use depending on her trust of the “other” who wishes to communicate. Maire is a young student of Hugh’s who wishes to learn English because she dreams of going to America. It is also understood that Maire is intended in marriage to Manus. Lieutenant George Yolland, of the British Army, is assisting Owen in the mapping and renaming process of the Ordnance Survey. George has an affinity for the villagers of Baile Beag and also is gravely concerned about his participation in what he views as an aggressive act of colonizing. George and Maire fall in love and represent the singular hope that change can happen, that genuine communication can take place. Because George does not understand Irish and Maire does not understand English, the achievement of their miracle of communication happens on a pre-semantic level.

Translations was particularly suited for a Shadow Signed run because of its theme: Change is inevitable. However, with a willingness to try, communication is possible between an oppressive culture and the culture it subjugates. For however brief a time, a starting place can be found. Can a new way of speaking, not related to dominance or subjugation, exist between the cultural divide? Can two cultures in conflict find a meeting ground in which genuine understanding of the “other” is possible? Toward the end of the play the old schoolmaster, Hugh, tells Maire who wants to learn English:

“I will provide you with the available words and the available grammar. But will that help you to interpret between privacies? I have no idea. But it’s all we have.” Translations, Hugh, late in Act III.

In Friel’s text the clash is between the Irish community and the British military unit. Two more levels of translation occur in this production. The difference between hearing and non-hearing cultures are addressed simultaneously with the shadow signers moving and interpreting alongside the speaking actors. An additional interpretation level is offered to the Deaf culture audience members because the signers show cultural difference by using ASL for the Irish characters and Signed Exact English (SEE) for the British characters. The play goes into a deep examination of the identity of members of each culture. Two questions are repeated throughout the play: What is your name; and where do you live? How each character expresses their specific response to the question provides the frame work for the structure of Translations.

The First Challenge

As the first rehearsal approached I was filled with anticipation and not a little trepidation regarding how the students would respond to the collaborative team – particularly with the Shadow Signers. The first challenge for the director and the actors in a Shadowed production is to find a level of ease and acceptance with the presence of the signers. Years ago when Dan and Shelly shadowed The Miracle Worker, I remembered with delight a rehearsal in which a character was setting the table for the famous dinner scene in which Helen learns to eat with a spoon and to fold her napkin. Setting the table was taking too much time and Dan asked if he could help set the table. It was an epiphany moment for the cast in which they realized the signers didn’t need to be treated like Noh Theatre stage attendants – invisible to the eyes of the characters. Another instance occurred when Colonel Keller has to carry Annie Sullivan down a ladder because Helen has locked her in the upstairs bedroom. We puzzled over a way to get Shelly to the performing area since she had been shadowing Annie upstairs. Shelly suggested a delightful solution. After the actor playing the Colonel got Annie to safe ground, Annie turned her gaze back to Shelly who was still upstairs in the bedroom. Colonel Keller released an impatient sigh, climbed up the ladder and carried the shadow signer down the ladder. The moment was a triumph in blending the hearing and non-hearing cultures present in the production. The audience was thrilled by the event and let the artists know with nightly spontaneous applause. With Translations I wanted to find a way to short cut the length of time it would take to find these moments of ease and delight for the case in working with the signers.

With The Miracle Worker we had waited until the first blocking run of the entire play before the signers began participating. The Shelly Tocca had done some work outside of scheduled rehearsals with Annie and Helen. They had established a bond of trust. But the rest of the cast was apprehensive. It was clear to me that what we needed with Translations was an earlier start with the process and a few more rehearsals that were not within the bounds of the rehearsal calendar. The problem was solved when another director in the rep schedule felt he had too many rehearsals and gave us several that were on his schedule. In all, the signers attended 15 of 38 rehearsals, including tech week. We addressed the need for an earlier start with the process of Shadow Signing by having the signers do a workshop with the actors at the third rehearsal.

After a rehearsal devoted to dialect work and another rehearsal to read the play and do table work, a session was scheduled for the actors to meet the shadow signers, to hear their mission statement regarding the aesthetic of shadow signed performance and to learn some of the basic principles.

Don’t change your blocking. Move normally. The signers try to anticipate your movement. Mistakes will be worked out by the signers and/or the director.
Include the signers in your stage life. Respond to interpreters like you do any other person in the cast.
The signers will use levels to be sure their focus is on the actors’ activity and to assure the audience can clearly see their signed dialog. This may include kneeling or even standing on set-pieces/furniture. When there are groups of actors, interpreters usually kneel in front of the group.
Interpreters will place themselves outside the actors’ stage positions so their energy is not blocking the energy of actor to actor in stage space.
Actors move first – interpreters will follow.
Most crosses will occur upstage of the actor. (See Terp Theatre in end citations)

When Dan and Shelly finished their presentation, they were prepared to do an improvised walk through of the first act of the play—an act in which every cast member appears. The actors used their own words to go through the units and beats. Dan and Shelly signed based on what the actors were ad-libbing. They covered all the above principles during the course of the improv. Everyone did their best, even with frequent mistakes on the timing of entrances and exits, omissions of key plot points and general chaos with blocking. But during the improv the actors were able to experience the focus of the signers as they interpreted what the actors were doing. The actors also found, spontaneously, many nuances of connection with the signers. Chaos can be a great teaching tool as you step into unknown territory. The life of each character was initiated as a shared experience between the actors and the signers by saying yes and welcoming the signers into the first steps of rehearsal

“Initially I was so afraid that what I had been working on would be ‘diluted’ by having a second body repeating everything I was doing. But as soon as we got up there with the signers, I immediately found ways of working with them in a dynamic way. I realized that what I had was a true sidekick, and that has been a delight.”

Chris Corporandy, Second-Year MFA actor playing Hugh.

“Obviously it was an adjustment, but it definitely enlisted all your senses in a highly engaged way. There was someone else with whom to be mindful and generous; someone to share the space with. It immediately gave you the feeling of another energy on stage that was completely absorbed in what you were offering and you were there also, in the moment, to respond to what they were offering you. Many of us felt we hit the ground running with them and that they were even more prepared than we were.”

Megan Callahan, Third-Year MFA Actor playing Maire.

The interesting thing about Megan’s comment is that the signers were simply interpreting what they perceived in the moment from the actors. It was the extension of the actors’ impulses that gave Megan and other cast members the sense that the signers “were even more prepared than we were.” When the shadow improvisation rehearsal was finished there was a flurry of ideas and suggestions flying around the room about ways in which the actors felt they connect with the signers regarding stage business and relationship responses. As a director, I try to say “yes, we can try that” or “yes, we can see how that might work” to everything the actors have to offer and then shape it as we go. Later my sense of the scene will be more prescriptive regarding the thematic underscore, the structural arc or the sense of “wholeness” of the play in its entirety. But at this early point in rehearsal, freely seeking creative input from the actors in relationship to the shadow signers was key to their acceptance and confidence in the process.

What’s next?

The signers came to the next rehearsal in which the actors were working unit by unit. We were doing a lot of repetition in which intentions were being clarified and blocking was unfolding in support of actor actions. The signers sat behind the director’s table quietly signing the dialog and absorbing the actors’ choices. Mid rehearsal Dan asked if he and Shelly could “play” with the actors on stage. Once again I had genuine improvisation occurring. However, as a director, I could no longer do a deep reading of the actors’ impulses. I was seeing too much activity and too many bodies in motion to support the clarity of what needed to take place on stage based on beautiful, but dense text. I found myself blocking out the signers from my creative eye and following the work of the actors alone. When a scene was complete, I was speaking only to the actors and giving no feedback to the signers. Also, the amount of repetition in the unit work seemed counter-productive to the signers’ process. I was beginning to doubt about the choice of increasing the amount of rehearsal the signers would attend. I wondered about my ability to analyze what the actors were doing and simultaneously see the impact of the signers on what the play needed to be doing. On one of the breaks Dan approached me to say that he thought they should come back after more of the blocking was set. With relief, I agreed. A new principle in our collaboration had emerged. The intentions, obstacles and progression must be established before the “interpretations” are added; otherwise the foundation work can become muddy or require longer rehearsals to sort through the choices. That night I changed the work plan to include the signers at run-throughs of each act once the blocking was set. When the signers returned to the rehearsal hall they would first watch a fully staged scene and then we would run the scene again with the signers. At this point repetition, including the signers, could occur with units that were complex and the repetition was beneficial to the signers as well as the actors. As a director I could trust the through line of the play in the staging and I was open and welcoming to the input of the shadow signers. The signers work, once again, was enhancing the actor choices and we were able to build on that enhancement and go further with the creative process. This was an important lesson that I’ll keep in mind for the next shadow signed production. We all missed the signers when we were in the process of clarifying choices but it was the best use of the signers’ time for them to come in when the actors’ choices were stronger.

“Each sign had a specific movement. With the subtlest change in my choices, the sign changed. The first sight of my words being made into clear and definite movements instilled in me the importance of having a clear action for every “want.” An actor does not have “words, words, words”. An actor must have actions, actions, actions.”

Chris Bohan, Third-Year MFA actor playing “Manus.”

The Home Stretch

Once the entire play had shape, I met with the signers and Stephen Stone from the Dance Department outside our regularly scheduled rehearsal time to work on four unscripted “Moments” I felt would be necessary to the production. I wanted to have an event that would open the receptivity of the hearing audience to shadow signing. The “Moment” must also captivate the non- hearing at the top of the show. For Act Two, I wanted show two off-stage moments that are briefly alluded to in the text: The “Moment” of the impulse to leave the dance for Irish speaking Maire and English speaking George; and the “Moment” in which Manus finds his fiancé Maire with the British soldier. The forth “Moment” includes Shelly and Dan signing the lament written by Chris Collins. The song expresses grief over the devastation of the village at the end of the play and also the courage of the Irish through a prayer for those things Irish that cannot be destroyed.

Moment One at the opening needed to give a clear visual image that would convey the conflict between the British and Irish and link their nationalities to the choice of using ASL and SEE for the opposing cultures. It would allow the hearing audience to acclimate to shadow signing and give a bit of thematic preview to the Deaf and hard of hearing audience members. Stephen Stone, our staging consultant and choreographer, worked with the signers and cast members on each of the Moments. In Moment One, he had the signers take primary focus and move toward one another signing “Say anything at all – I love the sound of your speech.” Translations, Act II: Scene 2. In this unscripted preview moment, Shelly signed the repetition of the line in ASL to show her use of Irish and Dan signed the repetition of the line with SEE to denote his use of English. The cast members who play the lovers, Maire and George, then shadowed the signers, following their cross and giving voice to the line. This constituted a reversal of voiced actors in relationship with the signers in the world of the play. When the signers came to center, they were very close to touch touching hands in a sign showing they are “together” when a catastrophic gesture breaks the possibility of the connection. A third cast member, Sarah, who has refused to speak most of her young life, comes between the signers with a violent gesture. She breaks the possibility of communication with an ASL sign showing that this connection can never be allowed. The lovers back away and exit, signifying like a curtain opening, that the play is about to begin. The signers join the cast members inside the Hedge School. As Dan signs while crossing into the world of the play, he asks Sarah repeatedly in SEE “What is your name? Where do you live?” The action of the play begins when Manus, the Hedge School master’s oldest son, succeeds in getting Sarah to say her name. Sarah then chooses to speak at various times in limited ways throughout the course of the play until she chooses not to speak in the third act when the British commander threatens the occupants of the Hedge School

Moment Two comes at a turning point in the play. Maire has invited British Lieutenant George Yolland to a local dance. They have been keenly aware of each other’s presence since Lt. Yolland arrived at the British encampment near her home. She has seen him outside his tent and walking along the beach. He has seen her doing her chores. They also met on one previous occasion at the Hedge School. The event of the dance takes place off stage. Act II, scene 2 starts with the pair running onto a nighttime exterior setting.

In our production we placed intermission after Act II, Scene One. So Moment Two echoes the structure of Act One by starting with the signers. It allows the signers to convey to the Deaf and hard of hearing audience what has transpired off stage by visually reenacting on stage the moment at the dance when Maire and George impulsively decide to leave the dance in order to be by themselves. Stephen choreographed the dance to an original score written by Chris Collins. The music begins with traditional British instrumentation in an upbeat, counterpoint country dance. Then the music progresses to an Irish segment that increases the tempo with traditional Irish triplet notes in a unified melody and finishes with a blend of sounds and wild tempo, entwining themes from both their cultures. The signers run onto stage, without the actors, at the top of the music. They recognize through the choreography of the dance their strong attraction. By the end of the dance they leap together out of the interior Hedge School, where they have been dancing, into the exterior meadow in which the Act II, scene 2 love scene takes place. Simultaneously, the actors playing Maire and George make their entrance.

Moment Three occurs after the love scene. Once again, it is an event that takes place off stage and is briefly referred to during the third act. At the end of Act II: scene 2, Sarah sees George and Maire kissing at the end of the love scene. She knows her teacher, Manus, is in love with Maire and hopes to marry her. Sarah runs to find Manus to give him the news of Maire’s betrayal. She unwittingly puts into motion Thomas Davis’ “accident of translation” that sends the cultural conflict into violence.

Moment Three precedes the action in Act III. We see Manus discover George and Maire on their way to Maire’s home. In a fury, Manus has brought a stone with him to “fell” George. While the voiced actors are walking across the stage, the signers are engaged in looking at a map of England George has drawn to show Maire where his home is. Both the lovers walk by the actors playing George and Maire and the study of George’s improvised map by the signers are activities that occur in the off stage event. When the voiced actor playing Manus arrives he interrupts both sets of activity. It is significant that when he sees the two pairs—signers and actors– he cannot follow through with his premeditated violence. He puts the stone down and calls out “You’re a bastard, Yolland.”

The first time we worked on Moment Three, the actor playing Manus shouted his line as it might have been scripted by Friel. At the next rehearsal I asked that he sign, instead of voice, his verbal attack on George Yolland. This would allow the unscripted moment to have more distance from the text in the next scene when Manus tells his brother Owen what his last words to Yolland were. Manus’ signing moment gives visualization to an important off stage moment for the Deaf audience and also takes the hearing audience deeper into the world of signing by seeing a cast member cross over a cultural barrier – a voiced actor using sign language to speak to George and Maire who have just overcome the difficulties of words and found a way to communicate.

The final unscripted moment was supported by Chris Collins who wrote a lament and prayer for Ireland. Sarah has left the Hedge School to warn her people at home of the devastation that is coming from the British soldiers in retribution for the fact that Lt. Yolland has disappeared and has likely been killed by a pair of Irish rebels. It is that sense of warning, grief and prayer that she conveys prior to the curtain call by remaining mute, but with her mouth open in a silent wail as Shelly interprets the following prerecorded lament at Sarah’s side.

“The Fate of the Irish”

A Ballad by Chris Collins

The Banshee Wails and Weeps

Her Mournful Song Unheeded

The Emerald Hills Turn Grey

Wisdom Fades Away

–Instrumental Reprise—

Pray the Tears Still Fall in Moon or Mist

Pray the Mind and Heart and Blood Resist

Lest We Bid Our Land and Spirit

Farewell…Farewell

During the instrumental reprise, the other Irish characters enter the Hedge School for the prayer segment that Dan signs. The British characters enter the environment outside the Hedge School for the company curtain call. Through the involvement of all the collaborators, and particularly through the ever-changing relationships with the Shadow Signers, the production was able to bring Brian Friel’s text up to John Millington Singe’s standard: “A translation is no translation, he said, unless it will give you the music of a poem along with the words of it.” ASL is a language of metaphor. It gave a beautiful visual interpretation of the actors’ intentions as they performed Brian Friel’s text.

The entire rehearsal process was an exciting and challenging time when doors and windows flew open in our imaginations based upon discoveries made during previous rehearsals. I learned a great deal about structuring the experience for the actors. But the great discoveries came from the impulses of the actors and signers’ impulses and collaboration. Participating in the multiple levels of translations called up everyone’s instincts to work in moment to moment acting. My job as a director was to identify their impulses and to point the struggle in the clash of cultures. Signed interpretation of Translations became an unforgettable convergence of the talents of the MFA actors and the collaborators from Terp Theatre, Wayne State University’s Dance and Music Departments, and Oakland University. In addition to expanding our lives as theatre practitioners, we found that Shadow Signing also has a profound impact on hearing audiences. The chair of our department, Dr. Blair Anderson, after seeing the Shadow Signing of Translations, sent me an email message saying “A play that has been familiar suddenly has new overtones, transcendental qualities, and a richness for deeper understanding.” It was an honor to have directed the project.

Wish List

It is my hope that the experience between the actors and the Shadow Signers will inspire a new generation of theatre artists who will, in their time, find the ways and means to commit to theatre that is accessible to audiences outside the mainstream. I hope for a commitment from our department to support at least one shadow signed performance per season. The actors’ abilities to make clear, intentional choices in the play were magnified by this process. I would like all the MFA actors to have the opportunity to participate in a Shadow Signed production prior to their graduation.

By Lavinia Hart

“It was awesome. You go from thinking “how can this possibly work?” to thinking “how could this work any other way.?”

Brian Ogden, Third-Year MFA Actor, playing Doalty.

Sources and Works Cited

1. Terp-Theatre Detroit, MI http://www.terp-theatre

2. O’Leary, Timothy. “Dramatic Speech Acts: Language and the Politics of Postcolonialism in Friel’s Translations.” Philosophy Program, University of Wollongong, Wollongong, NSW 2522. P. 1

3. “A Brief History of the Anglo-Irish Conflict”, www.theatrebanshee.org/Translations

Lavinia Hart is an Assistant Professor of Acting and Head of the MFA Acting Program at Wayne State University’s Department of Theatre. She received her MFA (Directing) from Wayne State University and a Two-Year Conservatory Degree from the Academy of Dramatic Art at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. She was the Artistic Director of the Attic Theatre for 19 years before accepting a teaching position at St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minnesota and her current position at Wayne State.

How to Keep Your Sanity in a Long Running Show

By Tony Freeman

Long before I was lucky enough to get IN a long running show on Broadway, one of the most disappointing nights I have spent in the theatre happened during a long running show. It was a few years into the run of “Les Miserables”, my wife and I decided to splurge and have a special evening out and go see the show. I had seen “Les Miz” in London years before, but my wife had never seen it and was very excited. Tragically, she was a LOT more excited to SEE the show, than some of the cast were to DO the show. We were both shocked at how little energy several people in the cast put into their performances. They just walked onto stage, sang beautifully but with zero emotional or intellectual involvement or any connection to what they were singing about, and walked off. Some just looked bored by their own show. My wife was really offended by their lack of effort. Then, within a few weeks, the cast of the show had a party in the restaurant where my wife was working as a waitress. She overheard several people in the “Les Miz” cast complaining bitterly about doing 8 shows a week and feeling underpaid. She successfully fought the urge to go up and tell them how disappointed she’d been in the effort they gave (and she wasn’t overly surprised a little later when Cameron Mackintosh famously fired much of the company and re-cast the show). But I know for a fact that it IS possible to keep fresh, focused, and connected during a long run. The first Broadway show I ever saw was the original production of “Sweeney Todd”. It was 1979 and I was a Miami University of Ohio student who had taken an all-night bus ride into NYC. I arrived, sleepy but excited, and headed straight for the Wednesday matinee at the Uris Theatre (now the Gershwin). “Sweeney Todd” had just recently swept the Tony Awards (Best Musical, Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Director, etc.) and I feared that there was only a small chance that Len Cariou and Angela Lansbury would actually show up for a Wednesday matinee so soon after their triumph. Well, not only did they perform, but they (and the entire cast) did the show with full out energy like it was Opening Night. I was blown away by the show and have never forgotten what that matinee was like. Sadly, not all casts are capable of that kind of commitment. It wasn’t until years later that I really developed an understanding of how hard it can be to perform every single show, 8 times a week (plus rehearsals), week after week, at your highest level when you’re lucky enough to be in a long running show. Now I have done over 1,300 performances in “The Lion King” on Broadway and people often ask me how you can maintain your performance, energy, and sanity during a long run with a show. It’s not always easy and, unfortunately, I have seen many fail at the challenge! There are few things more frustrating and upsetting than to watch (or, God forbid, work onstage with) a performer who is clearly just walking through their part in front of an audience that each paid $110 to watch the show!! We’re all human, of course, and sometimes feel tired or depressed (try doing a “puppet show” right after 9-11 or the death of a family member). But I would hope that we all have enough pride in our work to at least TRY to do the show full out every time (and not just when we know someone in the audience!) Unfortunately, I have seen and/or worked with actors who looked beaten down by the effort and seemed to exert the least possible energy almost every day, not just on those very rare bad days. So let’s explore some ideas/ strategies on how to achieve that “illusion of the first time” we learned about in acting class.

Obviously, it’s a lot easier if you happen to be in a show where the audience can give you a lot of energy. No matter how much you enjoy doing your show, after you’ve done it every day for a few years, it can’t help but lose a little magic. But if you have a chance to soak up a little energy and excitement from the crowd before your entrance, it can really help remind you of the first time you did the show. For example, we’re very lucky in “The Lion King” because it has one of the most famous and exciting opening numbers around. How many shows are we ever in where you can see audience members wiping tears out of their eyes just 30 seconds into the show and looking around in all directions in excitement to see the various animals coming from all angles towards the stage. It’s like showing a child something they’ve never seen before and enjoying their reaction. The first time my daughter saw snow, she got so excited she was screaming and jumping up and down! Even though I’ve seen snow hundreds of times in my life, her excitement made me see it fresh again with that fun and magic of the first time. The same can often be true in the Theatre. If you are sensitive to the audience’s energy, you can be reminded of experiencing your own show for the first time.

But what happens when you do NOT have a number like that to start the show with or when you get an audience that doesn’t have much energy (or you have a big section in your crowd of people from countries where you show your appreciation and respect with your complete silence)? At these times, the performers might have to lean on each other more than usual to get than energy and spark. Performers often make very subtle changes during a performance that the audience would never notice, but that keep a spark of life in the scene. A slight change of intention, a subtle shift of emphasis, a new mental image of how the scene MIGHT end. Sometimes just the way two people connect with their eyes onstage can re-invigorate the moment. Of course, there are also days when your fellow performers may be too tired to share any spark with you. Those are the days when you might just have to suck it up and remind yourself that you are being paid a lot of money (Broadway MINIMUM being about $1,400 a week) and that there are literally THOUSANDS of people that would jump on your job IN A HEARTBEAT, given the chance, and celebrate it as the fulfillment of their dream! Yes, there are days when performing on Broadway does feel like a “job” and you have to be professional about it. But there are also many times when you are having so much fun performing for 1,600 people that you almost can’t believe that you’re also being paid for this! But, actors are human beings and sometimes we feel very tired before a show. On those days, I make it a point to walk by the Box Office on my way to the stage door. Quite often there is a line of people, hoping that IF THEY GET “LUCKY”, they can pay over $100 each to come in and see what we do for a living! How many jobs are like that?? Another thing I do when I’m tired is to think back to that time I saw “Sweeney Todd”. I remind myself what seeing my first Broadway show meant to me and that there are people out in the audience seeing a Broadway show for the first time ever ( and maybe they saved up money for a long time to buy this ticket and make the trip). They deserve the best show we can possibly do. Maybe we can even inspire someone out in the audience to become a life-long Theatre lover or trigger someone’s dream to work on Broadway some day. I try to pass on the gift/ lesson that the cast of “Sweeney Todd” gave me! When I finally met Len Cariou, years later, I told him how much that Wednesday matinee of “Sweeney Todd” had meant to me and that I often thought of it to kick me out of any doldrums or fatigue while doing “The Lion King”.

So on different days, there are various strategies that I use to re-connect to the show or to the energy I need to do it. Of course, when all else fails, you can always take a Leave of Absence and go do something else for awhile until your body and spirit have recovered to the point where you are ready to attack the show with your full gusto again. I’ve been in and out of “The Lion King” three times over the last 6 years. But I try to never forget that we are very lucky to be working on Broadway and making a decent living doing what we love to do. But with that luck also comes a responsibility to do whatever it takes to give the show your all for three hours every day (or twice a day!). If you’ve never done a long run, that might sound embarrassingly simple. But after 8 performances a week of the same show for couple of years, it’s a godsend to have various techniques to draw on to keep the show fun for you and satisfying to the audience. I hope you all get the chance to enjoy that challenge! And I really hope you never lose your pride in giving it your all, your love of performing, and your respect for creating that illusion of the first time.

Tony Freeman has performed in “The Lion King” on Broadway as Zazu (the wacky bird) for over 1,300 performances (as well as occasional performances as the evil lion Scar). He also was proud to work on a new musical by theatre legends Kander and Ebb (and Joseph Stein) called “All About Us”, based on Thornton Wilder’s classic play “The Skin of Our Teeth”. Tony did Tony Kushner’s musical “Caroline, or Change” out in Los Angeles and San Francisco with the original Broadway cast. He has performed guest roles on both “Law and Order” and “Law and Order, SVU”. He won a Barrymore Award for his performance in Stephen Sondheim’s “Merrily We Roll Along” and starred opposite Donna McKechnie in “The Goodbye Girl”. In addition to his acting career, Tony has served as an Acting Teacher and Guest Professional Artist in Residence at Cornell University and as a Teaching Artist for the Roundabout Theatre Company in NYC. Tony studied at Miami University (of Ohio) and then received his MFA from the University of North Carolina.

[1] Mel Gordon, ed., “Michael Chekhov’s Life and Work: A Descriptive Chronology” Drama Review 3 (Fall 1983): 5-11.

[2] To distinguish between the two men’s theories and principles, I will refer to Stanislavsky’s as the System and Chekhov’s as the Technique. This appears to be the way they, themselves, referred to their work. The famous Method, it must be pointed out, is not Stanislavsky’s at all, but the American version of his ideas as translated in the 1930s by former members of the Group Theatre, Stella Adler, Robert Lewis, Harold Clurman and, most particularly, Lee Strasberg. It was the last who popularized the Method at the Actors’ Studio in the ’40s and ’50s.

[3] Constantin Stanislavsky, My Life in Art, trans. J. J. Robbins (Boston: Little, Brown, and Co., 1935), 294-95.

[4] Ibid., 351.

[5] Ibid., 566-67.

[6] Ibid., 458-62, 526.

[7] Konstantin Stanislavsky, Stanislavsky on the Art of the Stage, trans. David Magarshack (New York: Hill and Wang, 1961), 27

[8] Sonia Moore, The Stanislavski System: The Professional Training of an Actor (New York: Pocket Books, 1965), 27, 83-99.

[9] Serge Orlovsky, “Moscow Theatres, 1917-1941, The First, Second and Third Studios of the Moscow Art Theatre,” in Martha Bradshaw, ed., Soviet Theatres (New York: Research Program on the U. S. S. R., 1954), 14, cited in Christine Edwards, The Stanislavsky Heritage: Its Contribution to the Russian and American Theatre (New York: New York University Press, 1965), 119.

[10] P. Markov, “Sulerzhitskii—Vakhtangov—Chekhov,” in Moskovskii Khudozhestvennyi Teatr—Vtoroi [Moscow Art Theater—second] (Moscow: [Izd. Mosk. khud. teatr 2-go], 1925), 143, cited in Nikolai Gorchakov, The Theatre in Soviet Russia, trans. Edgar Lehrman (New York: Columbia University Press, 1957), 436, n. 71.

[11] Alma H. Law, “Chekhov’s Russian Hamlet (1924)” Drama Review 3 (Fall 1983): 34-36.

[12] Michael Chekhov, The Path of The Actor, ed. Andrei Kirillov and Bella Merlin (New York: Routledge, 2005), 42. (This invaluable source was published after I had done my principal research and reading for this project.)

[13] Mel Gordon, “Michael Chekhov’s Life and Work: A Descriptive Chronology” Drama Review 3 (Fall 1983): 8-12. For further information on this rather unusual material, see [Frans Carlgren,] Rudolf Steiner 1861-1925, trans. Joan and Siegfried Rudel (Dornach, Switzerland: The Goetheanum School of Spiritual Science, 1964), especially pages 19 and 25-28. (Eurythmy should not be confused with eurhythmics, a movement art founded by Emile Jaques-Dalcroze. According to Andrei Kirillov, Chekhov was not a eurythmist [Andrei Kirillov, “Introduction,” The Path of The Actor, 9], but we shall see that there are some, at least apparent, echoes of this theory in Chekhov’s acting Technique.)

[14] An excellent source for biographical detail on Michael Chekhov, as well as artistic analysis of his theater work, is Charles Marowitz, The Other Chekhov: A Biography of Michael Chekhov, the Legendary Actor, Director & Theorist (New York: Applause Theatre & Cinema Books, 2004), which was published after I did my principal research and reading for this essay. It confirms (and expands on) the facts mentioned briefly here.

[15] It is important to emphasize that the matter of style was not actually part of the two men’s theories. Stanislavsky may not have liked non-Realistic material, but his System can prepare an actor for roles in non-Realistic plays and guide his work in rehearsal. I have written an extensive essay, “The Natyasastra and Stanislavsky: Points of Contact” (Theatre Studies 36 [1991]: 46-62), which I believe proves that the System itself is not innately Realistic-Naturalistic. The converse is certainly true of Chekhov’s Technique, which is used by a number of actors in Realistic roles. Chekhov, himself, had a successful Hollywood film career during which he performed quite Realistically.

[16] Michael Chekhov, To the Actor: On the Technique of Acting (New York: Barnes & Noble Books, 1953), 21.

[17] Mel Gordon, ed., “Chekhov on Acting: A Collection of Unpublished Materials (1919-1942)” Drama Review 3 (Fall 1983): 54-55.

[18] Constantin Stanislavski, Creating a Role, trans. Elizabeth Reynolds Hapgood, ed. Hermine I. Popper (New York: Theatre Arts Books, 1961), 3-85.

[19] Chekhov, To the Actor, 21-34; Gordon, “Chekhov on Acting,” 53-59.

[20] Stanislavski, Creating a Role, 131-150.

[21] Chekhov, To the Actor, pp. 85-93; Gordon, “Chekhov on Acting,” 69, 76-80. There is a correlation between Chekhov’s center and the “zones of the body” defined by François Delsarte (1811-71). This is not the place to discuss this in detail, but Delsarte divided the body into three main zones, each of which houses a different aspect of our constitution: intellect, emotions and appetites. If an actor chooses a center for her character according to which aspect she decides governs her character’s behavior, there will be not only a new physicality, but an altered personality as well. More about Delsarte’s zones can be found in Ted Shawn, Every Little Movement (New York: Dance Horizons, 1974), 32, 35-47.

[22] Constantin Stanislavski, An Actor Prepares, trans. Elizabeth Reynolds Hapgood (New York: Theatre Arts Books, 1948), 154-181.

[23] Uta Hagen, Respect for Acting (New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., 1973), 34-45.

[24] Gordon, “Chekhov on Acting,” 62.

[25] Ibid., 61-62, 66-68.

[26] Chekhov, To the Actor, 63-84; Gordon, “Chekhov on Acting,” 63-75.

[27] Gordon, “Chekhov on Acting,” 74-75; Peter Hulton, “Dierdre Hurst du Prey: Working with Chekhov” Drama Review 3 (Fall 1983): 85.

Richard E. Kramer is an actor, director, theatre and writing teacher, dramaturg, reviewer and researcher. His writing appears in The Cambridge Guide to World Theatre, The Cambridge Guide to American Theatre, Speaking on Stage, Tennessee Williams: A Guide to Research and Performance, Tennessee Williams Encyclopedia, The Drama Review, Studies in American Drama, 1945-Present, The Journal of American Drama and Theatre, Theatre History Studies and The Tennessee Williams Annual Review.

[28] Sri Swami Sivananda , “Experience Festival.com/ Hindu Yoga”, http://www.experiencefestival.com/a/Hindu_Yoga/id/23103. July 10, 2006

[29] Sri Swami Sivananda , “Experience Festival.com/ Hindu Yoga”, http://www.experiencefestival.com/a/Hindu_Yoga/id/23103,. July 10, 2006

3. Sri Swami Sivananda , “Experience Festival.com/ Hindu Yoga”, http://www.experiencefestival.com/a/Hindu_Yoga/id/23103. July 10, 2006

4. Sri Swami Sivananda , “Experience Festival.com/ Hindu Yoga”, http://www.experiencefestival.com/a/Hindu_Yoga/id/23103. July 10, 2006

Anjalee Deshpande Nadkarni is a playwright/actor/director currently residing in Syracuse, NY. Ms. Nadkarni is a graduate of the MFA directing program at Northwestern University. Anjalee currently teaches at Le Moyne College, continues writing, directing and enjoys learning more about the Michael Chekhov technique whenever her 2 year old allows.

The Players Journal

Pages

Meta

Volume Two

Editor Michael Counts
Lyon College

Discovering Subtle Nuances and a Variety of Choices in Preparation of Audition Monologues: A Fresh Look at Familiar Concepts

Exercises

6. Exploring Place, Atmosphere, and Conditioning Forces

Conclusion

Inner Monologue: Creating Connection and Commitment

Konstatin Stanislavsky and Michael Chekhov:
Realism and Un-Realism

Notes

My Hindu Connection to the Work of Michael Chekhov

Levels of Translations: Student Actors Interacting with Shadow Signers

The Play Text

The First Challenge

What’s next?

The Home Stretch

Wish List

How to Keep Your Sanity in a Long Running Show

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Volume Two

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Exercises

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Editor Michael Counts
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