Thursday, 28 February 2013

Shakespeare, Stanislavski and This Blog


Reviewing my blog to date has made me aware of a glaring omission in my explanations of Shakespeare as I understand him.
 
The problem is to do with contemporary theatre productions.  How they are rehearsed, constructed and performed.
 
It matters not whether the subject is Shakespeare, Chekhov or Ayckbourn, the approach of contemporary practitioners is largely underpinned by Stanislavskian concepts of what theatre is and should be.
 
So prevalent is the Stanislavskian vision that we sometimes may not even notice his influence at work…
 
Blacked out auditoria? Stanislavski.  No latecomers admitted?  Stanislavski.  Rehearse in a room for an extended period prior to performance?  Stanislavski.  Look for the character’s motivation or objectives?  Stanislavski.  Provide a complete three dimensional stage picture which is lit three-dimensionally? Stanislavski.  Make the staging look and feel ‘natural’? Stanislavski.  Focus on the emotion of the actor/character? Stanislavski.
 
But, without doubt, the most insidious of all Stanislavski’s concepts – which has somehow been adopted so completely that we view absence of it as somehow ‘strange’ or ‘unique’ – is the fourth wall.
 
The fourth wall – only possible because of advances in lighting and theatre design – was seen by Stanislavski as the fundamental tool of the actor working towards a great performance.  For it is the way in which the actor separates him or herself from the distraction of the audience and immerses their attention in the world of the play.  Worse even than this, the fourth wall – for Stanislavski – represents the route to the highest forms of audience experience.  This, in his mind, is theatre where the audience can become so absorbed in the ‘real’ world of the stage before them, that they forget who they are and simply experience another life.
 
This sounds wonderful but it is nonsense.
 
Theatre is not, and – until Stanislavski came along – never was, about the divide between actor and audience.  It is and was about the complete connection and communication between them.
 
And this connection is so much deeper and more fundamental than simply ‘breaking the fourth wall’ can ever allow.
 
When a speaker goes onto a platform to address a crowd, he or she should – if they are doing their job properly – focus on ensuring that the crowd see, hear, understand and ultimately connect with what they are saying.  This involves continual assessment of the crowd from before the speech, through the speech and, finally, after the speech.
 
Failure to assess the crowd means that the speaker cannot possibly know if their speech is being heard, making sense, being accepted or rejected.  In an extreme situation, failure to assess the crowd could mean the crowd walking away disinterested and having heard nothing, without the speaker even realising.  At the other extreme the crowd could be getting so angry with the speaker that they advance on the stage ready to lynch the speaker… again without him/her noticing.
 
Clearly neither of these alternatives is likely to happen in real life – certainly not if the speaker has even a modicum of common sense.  But what about in the theatre?
 
In the contemporary theatre the audience is not only put into darkness (little hope of the actor assessing this crowd directly then!) but it is taught that it must be quiet and respectful of the actors, even if it does not understand what they are saying or doing.  Darkness and quiet are both Stanislavskian constructs.
 
In other words, our modern theatre demands the very things that are, in reality, anti-theatre: lack of real-time assessment of the audience by the actors and lack of real-time feedback from the audience to the cast.  Add in the ‘fourth wall’ and you have a situation where ‘the highest order of acting’ is one in which actors deliberately focus not on the audience but on the stage.  Add the importance of ‘true-seeming emotion’ [in the actor, of course!] and you even relieve the cast of responsibility for generating true emotion in the audience.
 
You see, Stanislavski has infected every level of our contemporary theatre performance.  So much so that Brechtian ‘Epic Theatre’ ideas are seen by many as ‘weird’ and ‘unconventional’, whereas they are, in fact, the traditional and timeless features of theatre which our post-Stanislavski theatre community has failed, on the whole, to grasp.
 
And so back to Shakespeare and contemporary productions…
 
As the modern theatre is founded upon Stanislavskian principles, so it cannot do Shakespeare justice.
 
I frequently hear of Shakespeare productions that transcend the Stanislavski boundaries and become brilliant pieces of theatre.  But on the nights I visit, it seems, this freedom to act is temporarily mislaid.  And I end up seeing yet another example of actors believing that there is immense value in their ability to create a role, build a character and prepare a performance in the Stanislavski mould.  Yes, they throw down the fourth wall occasionally.  But no, they do not transcend the Stanislavski ethos.
 
That modern actors might be blinded by Stanislavski has  – thankfully - been picked up by David Mamet, among others.  But against this common sense there remains a tremendous amount of folly.  Like the actor who refused to even audition for my 2010 production of Macbeth because ‘I only do quality work and you can’t produce a quality performance in a week of rehearsals – especially with Shakespeare’.
 
Within a week my actors on that production were informing me that they knew and understood the play better than any play they had previously worked on.  But how can this be with only a week’s rehearsal?  Because, as we all know, it’s not how long you spend trying to solve a problem; it’s how effectively you tackle the problem in the first place.
 
Stanislavski does not tackle the problem of theatre.  Shakespeare does.
 
Modern theatre adheres, ultimately, to too many principles of Stanislavski’s for it to be able to decipher and present Shakespeare appropriately.  And yet it claims, and - in its own context – appears, to do just that.
 
It takes a certain perspective to understand that you are on a stationary train when the train on the next track passes you.  And it takes a certain perspective to see that the modern theatre is so intrinsically Stanislavskian that it is distorting Shakespeare.
 
It is why some of the content of this blog may, alas, not make its full sense unless – and until – the reader sees what I mean in practice.



Tuesday, 26 February 2013

Two Daggers - One Macbeth

There are two ways of playing the dagger scene in Macbeth - Stanislavskian and non-Stanislavskian.

In the Stanislavski version, of course, the actor is absorbed in the world of the play and really only sees the dagger and the space around him.  He literally 'speaks his thoughts aloud' and the audience overhears them from outside the scene.

This is the way this scene has been played in every production I have seen of the play.

But there is an alternative mode of playing the scene.  In this non-Stanislavki version, the actor asks the audience a direct question: 'Is this a dagger I see before me?'  Of course it is not necessary for the actor to be looking directly at the audience as he says this specific set of words, for he can quite naturally speak to the audience while still looking at the dagger.  But at some point he will definitely break his eye contact with the dagger to look out into the audience to see/hear their reaction to his question.  And this is how the scene develops: the actor explores the issue of the dagger's appearance in full sight of the audience and with a clear line of communication between him and them.

Perhaps the skill of the actor and the choices made in terms of focus/eye level - more so than in the Stanislavski version - will determine the tone of this speech, but the effect will be quite different to that other version.  For now the audience is not overhearing from outside; now the audience is INSIDE the scene with the actor.  Now the audience have an immediate presence which - strikingly - makes them complicit in the drama.

When we tested these two modes of playing - in schools - by offering up the soliloquy performed in both styles, we found interesting results.  Firstly, there was a predictable reaction based on which version the (inexperienced) students saw first.  For, whichever order we played them in, the "first seen" was invariably the one judged to be most effective by the students (generally GCSE) - as if they could not adapt to the second once they had seen the effectiveness of the first.  But there was a different response among their more experienced teachers: here the clear favourite was the non-Stanislavskian version.  And the accompanying comments were common:
 
'I have not seen it played like that before'
'It was so much more immediate'
'It was more emotional'
'It was more effective as drama'.
 
 
The trouble is that we have become so used to seeing Stanislavskian acting in our theatres that we appear to have almost forgotten that there really is another form of acting - and one which predates Stanislavski by millennia.  Confronting modern audiences with both forms demonstrated that Stanislavski is definitely not the only way and, quite probably, is not even the best way.
 
But which of these two versions was best for the actor?  I can answer that from personal experience as I was, on many occasions, the actor in question...
 
Firstly, I found that the Stanislavskian version was tremendously technical - for I had to maintain a wholly unnatural thread of emotional angst across a whole speech - but it allowed me to make all the decisions myself.  In other words I was the boss of the speech and could decide where to go next and then fly there (e.g. I often felt the emotion driving me towards smashing my fist on a table at a climactic moment, so I would give in to that urge and enjoy the emotional intensity which followed). 
 
But the non-Stanislavski version was entirely different.  For now I was NOT the boss of the speech; the situation was.  And the situation involved the audience, the dagger, the other people off-stage at the 'feast', and more.  Now I never felt an emotional urge to bang my fist on a table, but I often did still bang my fist on the table!  Why?  Because the action of banging the fist was now an attempt to change the situation; to shake off the madness which was clearly in danger of envelopping me.
 
Two versions, of one speech, in which I would usually bang my fist on a table.  But this action in each version - from its cause to its execution to its aftermath - was wholly distinct.  In the first, it was driven by emotion, shaped by my embrace of that emotion and expressed that emotion; in the other, it was driven by a situation, shaped by my attitude to the situation and it changed the situation... however briefly.
 
And there were other differences too.  But none more unexpected than my discovery of a simple, theatrical, truth: moving round the stage, in the Stanislavski version, as I worked to communicate to the audience my state of emotional angst (and, by their reactions, my work was pretty convincing) seemed somehow unclean; a petty lie.  But moving round the stage exploring the immediate current situation - a situation in which we all knew the audience existed as much as I did - seemed not only pure but a play in which all the roles offered cathartic opportunity.
 
For we were collectively journeying through a shared experience and my contribution as the actor was far more open, generous and imaginative than Stanislavski allowed me to be.

 
 
 

Friday, 15 February 2013

Introduction to this Blog

I am a theatre practitioner and English graduate whose appreciation of Shakespeare has been informed through practical work with actors in a rehearsal room (and in performance) rather than through my academic studies.  It's not that the academic stuff hasn't made sense... just that it hasn't made as much sense as my practical experiences.

As a result you won't find much in the way of academic references or textbook theories in this blog.  But you might find some thought-provoking ideas and insights into various Shakespearean texts and the way they are constructed.

All the theories and suggestions have been developed over many years working on individual scenes and whole plays, and none of them were specifically sought or expected along the way.  But as we rehearsed the words on the page, I found ideas and concepts unravelling in ways which inspired and challenged me.  I now offer the most tried and tested of these ideas for wider consideration.

The theories revolve around a number of core texts - those specific texts which I have explored comprehensively with innumerable actors. I have become particularly fascinated with Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet - texts which I believe are commonly misrepresented.  Beyond these I have had the opportunity to work extensively on Much Ado About Nothing, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Twelfth Night, Richard III, Henry V, The Tempest, Cymbeline, Othello, Hamlet and King Lear.  While other plays may not feature prominently in this blog at this time, my practical explorations have added to my understanding of all of Shakespeare's writing and the ideas I will be expressing can be transferred with value to any of his texts.

Above all my Shakespeare is a playwright.  I hope you find him of interest.