My favorite theatres in town to go to are Beowulf Alley and The Rogue. But at the moment I am having a difficult time being or getting excited about their first shows. Beowulf is doing Seascape. Yes I know Albee wrote it and I know it won a Pulitzer Prize... but the whole lizard couple and all...I just don't feel it...yet anyway. And The Rogue is doing Animal Farm. Yes, I can imagine all the music and puppetry and a little razzle dazzle story telling, the politics, etc, but it doesn't touch a nerve in me as a spectator that gives or makes for the hint (or better) of excitement...not yet anyway.
I can experience a show and enjoy it objectively well enough, whatever it is. But my personal opinions and aesthetic taste in theatre is specific, perhaps narrow. I like shows where there is an obvious artistic challenge and sense of theatrical unearthing. I like great and large roles within great and large plays, where actors and directors attempt to come to concrete terms with how to make the material, the script, alive and meaningful on stage. I like theatrics but I don't like shows that are tricked out with novelty. I like emotion on the stage - real emotion, not fake, crappy indicated joy and pain, but the real deal, happiness and sorrow. I don't buy the argument for a second that if the actor cries the spectator does not or if the actor laughs the spectator does not. I do buy into Brecht's idea that you can have the spectators laughing when the character is crying and vice-versa though. Brecht always loved the real tears on stage. He called his type of theatre Epic Realism to contrast it against all the other theatres around him claiming to be Epic but which operated with a sense and style melodrama and fake behavior. Brecht said he wanted it real, like life, but set out in Episodic ways which show characters in various light and logic. By doing so he could indeed induce tears in the house while the characters were seemingly laughing on stage. I like that. And I like a good story as much as the next person - however it is told - but especially with surprises.
Like any good spectator though a show does not have to fit my personal taste or conform to "how I would do it." The Rogue Theatre has produced two of my all-time favorite plays these last couple of years, The Cherry Orchard and Six Characters in Search of an Author. Neither production was as I personally envision how the play can live on stage, but as a spectator at their productions of these scripts I was captivated in various ways.
Some theatres in town have absolutely left my consciousness, though I try my best to keep them in mind - Arizona Theatre Company and Invisible Theatre being the most prominent. There has been nothing intriguing or desirable about their shows for me, the choices of the scripts, and the actual productions themselves, over the last few years that has made me take notice or make me have to go see them. Perhaps I am to blame as much as them for this malaise, I don't know. As much as I hate to say it, they seem to present their shows with a kind of polite triteness while wrapped never-the-less in some socially relevant and entertaining context. I have arrived therefore at the "who cares" point. I hope to break out of it or be broken out of it soon.
Live Theatre Workshop verges on this same scenario for me - polite and trite. But sometimes it manages to escape itself, to free itself from its self-imposed imprisonment and make artistic headway. BTW if you have ever read the mission statement or sense of purpose or whatever they call it these days for Live Theatre Workshop let me know if you are amazed as me at all the things they intend to do - so many buzz words I got lost. Anyway, I do like the fact that at times they come up with a little gem of a production one way or another in and around the murder mysteries and bland comedies. Picnic is going to be one of those this year for them. I feel it. And their late night series, though I have seen a couple of presentations that I kind of enjoyed, is just not my cup of tea, not these days anyway.
I am making my personal preparation as I like to do as a spectator for those scheduled shows that I am excited about. For example I am re-reading and looking over Othello - even as I am finishing some thoughts on King Lear with Patrick. He has recently sent me some wonderful materials and some of his own perceptions and thoughts on that play following the discussion of it in his Honors course he was teaching earlier this month. I've got a few months to go on Othello but I like to make it "a journey." Picnic, The Glass Menagerie, Trip to Bountiful, come later in "the season" as well and I will be returning to those plays in various ways prior to seeing the productions themselves.
In the meantime, I am working on that "in" for Seascape and for Animal Farm. So, if you have any insight, great reasons, fun facts, know of sexy performers in the shows, or any reason small or large why I should be chomping at the bit as a spectator for these, please, please, please let me know.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tennyson's Ulysses - As Tribute to Teddy K.
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match’d with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy’d
Greatly, have suffer’d greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro’ scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour’d of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
Gleams that untravell’d world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use! As tho’ to breathe were life!
Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,—
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro’ soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil’d, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
’Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match’d with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy’d
Greatly, have suffer’d greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro’ scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour’d of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
Gleams that untravell’d world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use! As tho’ to breathe were life!
Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,—
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro’ soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil’d, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
’Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Corrections for Open Studio
SORRY!Figures, the day after I send this out, I have to change the dates. The Open Studio will now be on Mondays ONLY in September, rather than Mondays & Thursdays.So, the Open Studio dates are: September, 7, 14, 21, 28 from 6-8:30 p.m. We're beginning with these dates only to gauge interest and will add more dates if attendance is pretty good. So, invite some friends!
Thanks! Steve
Thanks! Steve
Friday, August 21, 2009
From Steve Anderson
Hey, all.Starting Open Studios. Here's the info. C'mon in and jam for a while. It'll be fun! Hope to see some of you there.The Open Studio for Actors, a new actor training series under thedirection of Steve Anderson, announces Open Studio Sessions forActors. The goal of the open studio is to provide a safe, creative,and empowering atmosphere for actors who wish to explore theirpotential without a major time or financial commitment. There is noadvanced registration for the open studios; actors simply show up andpay for each individual session. Each open studio session willinclude relaxation, kinesthetic awareness, and various exercisesdesigned to give the actor the tools to layer sense of stillness,focus, place, relationship, character, impulse, and intention-drivenaction. Actors are encouraged to bring scenes or monologues to workon. Steve Anderson earned his MFA in Acting in 1991 and has beenteaching and directing ever since. He has worked with actors from thebeginner to the Broadway pro and is consistently regarded as a giftedacting teacher. For testimonials and more detailed information,please visit www.steveandersonacting.com.WHAT: Open Studio Sessions for ActorsWHEN: Every Monday and Thursday evening from 6-8:30 p.m., beginning Sept. 3WHERE: Artfare. 55 N. 6th Avenue, Tucson - 3rd floorFEE/REGISTRATION: $10.00. No advanced payment or registrationrequired. Simply pay at the door. Credit cards are not accepted.WHAT TO BRING: Bottled water, towel, scenes and/or monologues to work onQUESTIONS: Contact Steve through www.steveandersonacting.com or callhim at 520.981.0145
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Bill Killian
Brecht said "All Art contributes to the greatest Art of all, the Art of living."
Bill Killian tells me he is seventy going on seventy. I don't believe him. He is twenty-one all the way - and a bit of a Renaissance man. I offer a few examples of his deeds and interests, in no particular order, but with freestyle commentary.
Bill has made over one-hundred basketball free throws in a row more than forty-seven times. Just this past week he made 197 out of 200. This is staggering. His form and rhythm when he shoots the ball is impeccable, flawless, and seems effortless, graceful, poetic. Now when I was a kid, I beat the then world record holder, Ted St. Martin, in a free throw shoot out. I made 10 out of 10. Ted missed his first shot, didn't shoot again, but claimed he made 9 out of 10 on the certificate he gave me. I hate to have to dust off my shoes and head down to the gym to give Bill a little competition but I might have too! The only problem is I really don't think I would stand a chance vs Bill. Therefore, I am staying at a distance, preferring to cheer Bill on and admire his ability in this skill which he often shares with young players, teaching them proper habits and the fundamentals of shooting. Bill's personality, love and enthusiasm combined with his knowledge, practice and experience make him an ideal teacher of this sort.
Bill has been to more Actor's Gymnasium sessions with me than anyone. Therefore - I love him no matter what! It's not just that he attends though. His presence has been crucial for many reasons. Bill's work as an actor existed of course long before Actor's Gymnasium and will continue well after Actor's Gymnasium but for this space and time, Bill has shown his great commitment to his craft, his art, with the work he has shared with all of us in Actor's Gym. The list is a long, long one if I tried to mention each session that jumps to mind when I think of Bill's work. But I will give you two, as classic examples, though seemingly opposite types of work.
The first one is of a monologue from Horton Foote's "The Man From Atlanta." Bill presented this work to us in several forms the first time he brought it in. He did it first that day as a straightforward monologue. He worked on it a second time that day, not with the language of the piece but instead with music playing. (For those unfamiliar with Actor's Gymnasium the short explanation is that we explore and work on ways to make ourselves more scenically expressive as actors). In that repetition with the music playing, Bill worked his way through various actions of the character, sometimes metaphorically, touching certain rhythms and moods. A couple of weeks or so later, Bill was ready to present the monologue again to us, having continued his work on it at home in the meantime. Let me clarify something though. Most, most, work on monologues in workshops and classes consist of a stage where the actor has almost learned, memorized, the lines of the text itself, or has just learned the lines and is now trying to work out the basic action and activities as to how best present it to spectators. Depth and detail, meaning layers and layers and layers of human behavior within a specific event and situation are usually nowhere to be found. That is not the case with Bill here. With this monologue Bill was well in to the depth and detail and we were trying to figure out how to organize it craftwise and draw it to a poetic rendition. And then it happened. Bill, as the character, begin to actually live in the space with full blown thoughts and emotions and physical actions, at one point picking up a picture of his son in the most simplest of fashions as he spoke - a loving, heartbreaking moment as he gently but deeply felt asked for his son back. On that day Bill was not just a good actor, he was a great one. One that day Bill was not just a technician with the ability to speak and move and indicate skillfully, he was an artist in the deepest and widest and best sense, revealing to all of us something unique, something profound, something captivating. It was great!
(And BTW the next week Bill, in typical hardworking and practical fashion, was right back at the rigours of the daily physical and vocal exercises that are the "beginnings") .
The second example is when we were all working as group, or taking turns rather, with the words from Hamlet's To Be or Not to Be monologue. Bill and Tom Wentzel were ripping through segments of the speech using the most bizarre and unexpected vocal qualities and intonations. I was on the floor dying of laughter. I won't give further details now but it was hysterical. You should have been there!
Bill has purchased many books and DVDs on theatre and acting that he has generously shared with us and he has participated actively in a ton of research on various topics that we have done through Actor's Gymnasium. He has always been a conscientious supporter of theatre and the arts in general here in Tucson as well as in Phoenix (that god-forsaken soul-less wasteland of a town to the near north).
Bill Killian tells me he is seventy going on seventy. I don't believe him. He is twenty-one all the way - and a bit of a Renaissance man. I offer a few examples of his deeds and interests, in no particular order, but with freestyle commentary.
Bill has made over one-hundred basketball free throws in a row more than forty-seven times. Just this past week he made 197 out of 200. This is staggering. His form and rhythm when he shoots the ball is impeccable, flawless, and seems effortless, graceful, poetic. Now when I was a kid, I beat the then world record holder, Ted St. Martin, in a free throw shoot out. I made 10 out of 10. Ted missed his first shot, didn't shoot again, but claimed he made 9 out of 10 on the certificate he gave me. I hate to have to dust off my shoes and head down to the gym to give Bill a little competition but I might have too! The only problem is I really don't think I would stand a chance vs Bill. Therefore, I am staying at a distance, preferring to cheer Bill on and admire his ability in this skill which he often shares with young players, teaching them proper habits and the fundamentals of shooting. Bill's personality, love and enthusiasm combined with his knowledge, practice and experience make him an ideal teacher of this sort.
Bill has been to more Actor's Gymnasium sessions with me than anyone. Therefore - I love him no matter what! It's not just that he attends though. His presence has been crucial for many reasons. Bill's work as an actor existed of course long before Actor's Gymnasium and will continue well after Actor's Gymnasium but for this space and time, Bill has shown his great commitment to his craft, his art, with the work he has shared with all of us in Actor's Gym. The list is a long, long one if I tried to mention each session that jumps to mind when I think of Bill's work. But I will give you two, as classic examples, though seemingly opposite types of work.
The first one is of a monologue from Horton Foote's "The Man From Atlanta." Bill presented this work to us in several forms the first time he brought it in. He did it first that day as a straightforward monologue. He worked on it a second time that day, not with the language of the piece but instead with music playing. (For those unfamiliar with Actor's Gymnasium the short explanation is that we explore and work on ways to make ourselves more scenically expressive as actors). In that repetition with the music playing, Bill worked his way through various actions of the character, sometimes metaphorically, touching certain rhythms and moods. A couple of weeks or so later, Bill was ready to present the monologue again to us, having continued his work on it at home in the meantime. Let me clarify something though. Most, most, work on monologues in workshops and classes consist of a stage where the actor has almost learned, memorized, the lines of the text itself, or has just learned the lines and is now trying to work out the basic action and activities as to how best present it to spectators. Depth and detail, meaning layers and layers and layers of human behavior within a specific event and situation are usually nowhere to be found. That is not the case with Bill here. With this monologue Bill was well in to the depth and detail and we were trying to figure out how to organize it craftwise and draw it to a poetic rendition. And then it happened. Bill, as the character, begin to actually live in the space with full blown thoughts and emotions and physical actions, at one point picking up a picture of his son in the most simplest of fashions as he spoke - a loving, heartbreaking moment as he gently but deeply felt asked for his son back. On that day Bill was not just a good actor, he was a great one. One that day Bill was not just a technician with the ability to speak and move and indicate skillfully, he was an artist in the deepest and widest and best sense, revealing to all of us something unique, something profound, something captivating. It was great!
(And BTW the next week Bill, in typical hardworking and practical fashion, was right back at the rigours of the daily physical and vocal exercises that are the "beginnings") .
The second example is when we were all working as group, or taking turns rather, with the words from Hamlet's To Be or Not to Be monologue. Bill and Tom Wentzel were ripping through segments of the speech using the most bizarre and unexpected vocal qualities and intonations. I was on the floor dying of laughter. I won't give further details now but it was hysterical. You should have been there!
Bill has purchased many books and DVDs on theatre and acting that he has generously shared with us and he has participated actively in a ton of research on various topics that we have done through Actor's Gymnasium. He has always been a conscientious supporter of theatre and the arts in general here in Tucson as well as in Phoenix (that god-forsaken soul-less wasteland of a town to the near north).
Bill recently came out of retirement and started back to work again as a Chaplain. This time he is at Corondelet counseling the grieved and anyone seeking spiritual comfort, advice and guidance. If there is a more practical and sympathetic ear than Bill's in this regard I haven't seen it. And, in addition to his daily duties (if I may use that word) as a husband, father and grandfather, Bill is completing a book of poetry. Now this isn't one of those I wrote ten poems kind of books. Bill has so far selected over eighty-five poems from a working catalogue of over five-hundred that chronicle his life and work, much of it theatre related.
And one last thing. While I have seen Bill upset and bothered, I have never seen him without a smile and kind words and compliments for everyone present. Bill, you have made a work of art of your life! Thank you for all you have given us and keep up the great deeds!
Monday, August 17, 2009
Winding Road Theatre Ensemble
They just keep coming! Another announcement for a new theatre company and its first production here in Tucson. The new one is Winding Road Theatre Ensemble and the show is an original one by Lesley Abrams entitled Dorothy Parker's Last Call. It is to be performed in the Cabaret Theatre at the Temple of Music and Art in mid October. Check the TTA list for the specifics.
I like that they have "Ensemble" in the name. The question is what does that word mean to them. To me of course it means a permanent group of actors and directors who share common artistic views and who plan and implement their work as a long term endeavor, training and preparing themselves consciously as an ensemble in order to achieve their artistic aims. For the general theatrical world it means a loosely knit group of artists who often work together when they don't have better or different offers and projects going on. Fundamentally that makes for a huge difference. In any case, it is exciting to hear about them and regardless of their form I wish them the best.
Glen Coffman, the director of this first show, studied acting at the HB Studio according to their announcement. That means hopefully he at least carries some amount of "Method" tradition in his work. He directed the production of Lemon Sky at Live Theatre Workshop which I wrote a long post about here on this very blog. I don't recall how I worded it in the post itself, but the acting in that show, even though it obviously did not have the amount of rehearsal time it truly needed to come to fruition, showed evidence of earnest and sincere and creatively imagined work. Aside from that terrible set in that terrible performance space which is Live Theatre Workshop, I sensed an attempt at real theatrical life. Perhaps freed from the constraints of time and place that comes with being jobbed in as a director with these various companies, Glen will be able to establish and create his artistic vision much more fully and definitely with his workmates at Winding Road.
I like that they have "Ensemble" in the name. The question is what does that word mean to them. To me of course it means a permanent group of actors and directors who share common artistic views and who plan and implement their work as a long term endeavor, training and preparing themselves consciously as an ensemble in order to achieve their artistic aims. For the general theatrical world it means a loosely knit group of artists who often work together when they don't have better or different offers and projects going on. Fundamentally that makes for a huge difference. In any case, it is exciting to hear about them and regardless of their form I wish them the best.
Glen Coffman, the director of this first show, studied acting at the HB Studio according to their announcement. That means hopefully he at least carries some amount of "Method" tradition in his work. He directed the production of Lemon Sky at Live Theatre Workshop which I wrote a long post about here on this very blog. I don't recall how I worded it in the post itself, but the acting in that show, even though it obviously did not have the amount of rehearsal time it truly needed to come to fruition, showed evidence of earnest and sincere and creatively imagined work. Aside from that terrible set in that terrible performance space which is Live Theatre Workshop, I sensed an attempt at real theatrical life. Perhaps freed from the constraints of time and place that comes with being jobbed in as a director with these various companies, Glen will be able to establish and create his artistic vision much more fully and definitely with his workmates at Winding Road.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Shaping a Theatrical Conciousness
To write of shaping a theatrical consciousness assumes that there is one, that theatrical consciousness exists. In that regard I may be starting this post all wrong. I may need to write of developing a theatrical consciousness. Hmm. Lets consider both notions at the same time, one big effort - developing and shaping a theatrical consciousness.
But what the heck is a theatrical consciousness? Rendering a precise definition will be difficult. In general it would refer to being actively cognizant and aware of the purpose and implications of theatrical spectacles, of having a strong sense and opinion of aesthetic, and some recognition of elemental functions. If we had a measuring gauge for this, in terms of the average spectator in our society, and for many of our theatrical artists themselves, its safe to assume that the reading would be "parochial." As we might expect, our theatrical consciousness has come into being by our experience and exposure to the habitual and accepted practices of the time and place - whether from one show or from nitty gritty work on hundreds of shows.
Articulation of types of theatrical consciousness is almost endless. Ask someone to describe theatre and it becomes showbiz, art, politics, revolutionary action, literary pursuit, personal journey, etc. Browse through books on theatre and indeed you will find these titles, Theatre as a Weapon, Educational Theatre, Feminist Theatre, The Art of the Stage, Theatre Anthropology, Epic Theatre, Black Theatre, My Life in Art, and Theatre of the Oppressed, to name but a few. There are thousands! While these for example attempt to change or offer perspective, many remain on the parochial level. But not all. Occasionally we run into an experience in our theatre that alters, widens and deepens our theatrical consciousness, lending specificity to our understanding and appreciation. See for example the post in this blog on Lev Dodin's Platonov by an anonymous poster.
For most of us though, we have been to a few shows, we have acted in a few shows, maybe even directed a few shows, we've read some reviews and had discussions with our friends and we have a select few favorite shows and/or performances we can list. In the end though, we typically hold the same assumptions on every single one of them. For example, regarding the "Who Done-It" I saw at live Live Theatre Workshop and the "Literary Masterpiece" I saw at Rogue Theatre, as a spectator I assumed that in both cases it was my responsibility to listen closely and pay attention at all times, lest I miss some clue or important bit of information that will be crucial to my understanding and appreciation by the end. The performers assumed they had to subtly but clearly and with a certain naturalness articulate the words and express the meaning behind them in order to ensure the spectators heard and understood the author whose story was being staged. And do so briskly lest the spectators become bored. My friends and co-workers assumed and expected I would relay to them my complete reaction and experience to the shows the following mornings. Its kind of like the way we "do business" in theatre and this collective way is part of our theatrical consciousness, having been developed and shaped over time.
Let me extract from that description one point, one sentence, for further explanation. "And to do so briskly lest the spectators become bored." Here the assumption is "entertainment." Our theatrical consciousness has been developed and shaped in such a way that we expect as spectators to be entertained by the performers. We do not expect, in other words, to have to entertain ourselves, or find for ourselves, our sense of enjoyment and entertainment. It will be provided we assume by the performers. The logic then goes that this "entertainment" will keep my attention focused at all times on the words the performers are speaking and the actions they are doing so as to finally give me that overall appreciation and understanding of the story.
Since I am not loathe to comparisons...lets say I went to a baseball game. Not one of those god-forsaken professional ones but just some game in the park. I go there lets say with the express purpose of being a spectator to the game, for my own enjoyment. In such an instance, I will not assume that the ballplayers are going to entertain me or that the game itself will move along at such a rapid pace that my full attention is undeniable. Apples and oranges? Yes, but thats ok.
In the long run, the game itself my be exciting with a dramatic finish, or it may turn out to be somewhat typical. Either way, I will, as a spectator, find myself entertained by the action even though it moves at a snails pace most of the time. Brisk pace is not necessary, nor is purposeful attempt by the players themselves to entertain. What I do expect of them though, the ball players, is to be fully involved in the event of the game itself. They may wave at me in the stands at some point but when the pitch is being thrown they are swinging away.
By way of this specific example I am not suggesting that all productions are too fastly paced. I'm trying to articulate the kinds of expectations and relationships we have, that endure in theatre as a result of our theatrical consciousness, individually and collectively. If I took it down to an elemental function and asked what do actors do, the responses again would be varied and somewhat parochial - an actors entertains, an actor does, and actor acts, an actor communicates what the author's intent is, an actor performs the characters actions, etc. If I said an actor takes in information and process it via their affective memory and senses to make living behavior you could disagree with me. On the other hand, you could disagree that a tree takes in water and light and makes branches and leaves. Or I could tell you that a tree stands on a hill, or blows in the breeze, or looks pretty. Any of these would signify part of our theatrical consciousness and our understanding or appreciation for actors, as well as the way we relate as performers to one another.
But what the heck is a theatrical consciousness? Rendering a precise definition will be difficult. In general it would refer to being actively cognizant and aware of the purpose and implications of theatrical spectacles, of having a strong sense and opinion of aesthetic, and some recognition of elemental functions. If we had a measuring gauge for this, in terms of the average spectator in our society, and for many of our theatrical artists themselves, its safe to assume that the reading would be "parochial." As we might expect, our theatrical consciousness has come into being by our experience and exposure to the habitual and accepted practices of the time and place - whether from one show or from nitty gritty work on hundreds of shows.
Articulation of types of theatrical consciousness is almost endless. Ask someone to describe theatre and it becomes showbiz, art, politics, revolutionary action, literary pursuit, personal journey, etc. Browse through books on theatre and indeed you will find these titles, Theatre as a Weapon, Educational Theatre, Feminist Theatre, The Art of the Stage, Theatre Anthropology, Epic Theatre, Black Theatre, My Life in Art, and Theatre of the Oppressed, to name but a few. There are thousands! While these for example attempt to change or offer perspective, many remain on the parochial level. But not all. Occasionally we run into an experience in our theatre that alters, widens and deepens our theatrical consciousness, lending specificity to our understanding and appreciation. See for example the post in this blog on Lev Dodin's Platonov by an anonymous poster.
For most of us though, we have been to a few shows, we have acted in a few shows, maybe even directed a few shows, we've read some reviews and had discussions with our friends and we have a select few favorite shows and/or performances we can list. In the end though, we typically hold the same assumptions on every single one of them. For example, regarding the "Who Done-It" I saw at live Live Theatre Workshop and the "Literary Masterpiece" I saw at Rogue Theatre, as a spectator I assumed that in both cases it was my responsibility to listen closely and pay attention at all times, lest I miss some clue or important bit of information that will be crucial to my understanding and appreciation by the end. The performers assumed they had to subtly but clearly and with a certain naturalness articulate the words and express the meaning behind them in order to ensure the spectators heard and understood the author whose story was being staged. And do so briskly lest the spectators become bored. My friends and co-workers assumed and expected I would relay to them my complete reaction and experience to the shows the following mornings. Its kind of like the way we "do business" in theatre and this collective way is part of our theatrical consciousness, having been developed and shaped over time.
Let me extract from that description one point, one sentence, for further explanation. "And to do so briskly lest the spectators become bored." Here the assumption is "entertainment." Our theatrical consciousness has been developed and shaped in such a way that we expect as spectators to be entertained by the performers. We do not expect, in other words, to have to entertain ourselves, or find for ourselves, our sense of enjoyment and entertainment. It will be provided we assume by the performers. The logic then goes that this "entertainment" will keep my attention focused at all times on the words the performers are speaking and the actions they are doing so as to finally give me that overall appreciation and understanding of the story.
Since I am not loathe to comparisons...lets say I went to a baseball game. Not one of those god-forsaken professional ones but just some game in the park. I go there lets say with the express purpose of being a spectator to the game, for my own enjoyment. In such an instance, I will not assume that the ballplayers are going to entertain me or that the game itself will move along at such a rapid pace that my full attention is undeniable. Apples and oranges? Yes, but thats ok.
In the long run, the game itself my be exciting with a dramatic finish, or it may turn out to be somewhat typical. Either way, I will, as a spectator, find myself entertained by the action even though it moves at a snails pace most of the time. Brisk pace is not necessary, nor is purposeful attempt by the players themselves to entertain. What I do expect of them though, the ball players, is to be fully involved in the event of the game itself. They may wave at me in the stands at some point but when the pitch is being thrown they are swinging away.
By way of this specific example I am not suggesting that all productions are too fastly paced. I'm trying to articulate the kinds of expectations and relationships we have, that endure in theatre as a result of our theatrical consciousness, individually and collectively. If I took it down to an elemental function and asked what do actors do, the responses again would be varied and somewhat parochial - an actors entertains, an actor does, and actor acts, an actor communicates what the author's intent is, an actor performs the characters actions, etc. If I said an actor takes in information and process it via their affective memory and senses to make living behavior you could disagree with me. On the other hand, you could disagree that a tree takes in water and light and makes branches and leaves. Or I could tell you that a tree stands on a hill, or blows in the breeze, or looks pretty. Any of these would signify part of our theatrical consciousness and our understanding or appreciation for actors, as well as the way we relate as performers to one another.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)