Sunday, June 08, 2008

Presumptuous?

I have been mulling over some thoughts about acting, but have hesitated to write them down, because I am so woefully uneducated.

For me, "The Method" is an ineffective type of birth control.

I was in a show (along with B J Machalicek) twenty-some years ago, called "Ladies At the Alamo." It had nothing to do with pioneering Texan women, but everything to do with community theater, and a struggle for control thereof. Basically, I have dismissed it over the years as a five-character, two-act cat fight. However, the lead (whose name I can't remember right now, but Victoria Grace played her to perfection) had a wonderful monologue about the nature of acting. She is telling the actress who has gone on to a professional career and then returned, that she (the lead) only ever wanted to play nice people. She goes on to say that the professional was willing to display her emotional dirty laundry, and that was how she got over so well.

I have thought about that many times.

There is a lot more to acting than pretending to be somebody else. You have to be willing to open yourself up and let your own personal pain and anger and joy flow forth through the words and actions of the character you are seeking to portray.

It's a process. Usually, I find a line in the script that gives me my first clue about the character. For Ursula it was her answer to Mae when Mae informs her she is lucky to be apprenticed to a madam: "For fifteen years?! You call that merit promotion?" When I read that, I got a strong sense of Ursula's inner frustration and rage. Then I noticed that, when the three others on stage at the time are describing how they got into "The Life," Ursula says not a word. It doesn't really become clear until Ursula's final little monologue, when the audience learns that Ursula was raised by a stern grandmother, who was strong-willed enough to die when she no longer had the means to live. I'm sure, when Grandmother did that, Ursula felt angry and abandoned, and "The Life" was the only available alternative.

I feel that Ursula grew up without any love, and would happily live on ramen noodles if it meant that she could put something aside for her old age. She dreamed of the day when she would have her own "stable," but when she did, she found that she had neither money management nor people management skills. In spite of her outrageous and wry humour and snide comments, Ursula is a lost and angry soul.

To play a character like Ursula, you don't have to like her. You do, however, have to understand her and you have to be loyal to her. You have to believe that there is a reason for her existence, and you have to be willing to tell her story honestly, bringing your own anger and pain out through her words and actions.

As Harrison Ford said on "Inside the Actor's Studio," "We are all assistant storytellers." That about sums it up for me. The playwright has a story to tell, and everyone involved in the production, from the director to the costumer, from the actor to the set crew, is tasked with telling that story honestly and with feeling.

I love acting.

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