Brief #26 PREPARING FOR YOUR
ENTRANCE
based on work by John
Crowther
I see no
reason why the actor should attempt to be “in character” before his/her entrance.
This
statement brings up the very valid question: what does it mean to be “in
character”? Presumably it suggests that we are able to walk, talk, and behave
in ways that are like the character, which just isn’t what we are doing in the
moments we’re standing in the wings in the darkness while waiting for the cue.
What *is* useful is to be relaxed and focused and in the “creative condition”,
and herein lies the rub. The key word is focused, and focused on what?
If we are
going to be “imagining and believing what has happened to the character a few
minutes (or seconds) before entrance” so that we re-experience “the past and
the feelings associated with them,” we are inviting difficulty. All of that
exploration of the events and feelings that have brought your character to the
present moment so that you can better understand and play it fully should have
been done already in rehearsal. To do it as you wait for your cue accomplishes
the exact opposite of keeping you focused; it scatters your thoughts because
you’re not sure *specifically* which part of the past you should be thinking
about. It also is not true to your character, and therefore is not “in
character.”
If I’m
about to storm through the door to confront my best friend with the discovery
that he’s been fooling around with my wife, I am not going to be a) standing in
the darkness waiting for my cue to enter, nor b) thinking of the past. Rather,
I’ll be thinking about how I’m going to deal with him in the present and
future. (And yes, I recognize that this is an example of one of those times
when it would be appropriate to access the necessary emotion.) If I am walking
into the bedroom after a terrible day at the office, I don’t need to recreate
the fight with my boss, the mistake I made on the widget shipments, the bumper
to bumper commute home, stepping in doggy doo when I got out of my car, etc.
All I need to do is focus on how great it’s going to feel to get out of this
suit and tie (that feels like a straight-jacket).
The acting
process does not necessarily involve getting ourselves more and more “into
character” beforehand so that then the moments of the dramatic event will come
to us spontaneously and impulsively. On the contrary, we find the character by
uncovering and learning how to play each moment of the dramatic event in a way
that is consistent with the character we are creating. The complexity of the
character results from the simplicity of each moment, and being in character
results from the cumulative experience in the present tense of living each
moment of the dramatic event fully and truthfully. In performance we are then like the musician,
who begins by playing the first passage of the score as he has learned it (with
whatever emotional content it contains), then transitions to the next passage,
and so on.
John
Crowther describes preparing for his role as “Einstein” in a one-man show:
In “Einstein”, the lights go up on
the first moment of the play and the audience sees me at a blackboard, lost in
my calculations. After a few moments I realize with surprise that they are
present, and turn to greet them. Whatever it is that brought me to the
blackboard is immaterial, the only thing that matters is what I am doing when
I’m there. Yes, it’s true that as I put on the costume, wig, and moustache I am
going through a transformation, and when I’m done I am walking and moving like
Einstein. I will walk from my dressing room to the wings as Einstein (which I
continue to do after 200+ performances of it). But this serves more to relax
and focus me than to get me “in character.” It’s like a pianist limbering up
his fingers. I’m still John Crowther moving like Einstein (a simile). It isn’t
until the lights come up on me at the blackboard that I’m Einstein (a
metaphor).
It isn’t
uncommon to find that aspects of the person we’re playing are difficult for us
because they are inconsistent with our own experience and behaviour. They can
be as obvious and glaring as the external walk or the accent, or as subtle as
an internal feeling or a certain emotional response. A skilled actor with a
deeply ingrained craft may have an easier time breaking through his natural
resistance to something unfamiliar, but maybe not, depending on what he’s
trying to accomplish. Imagine an experienced guitar player who comes across an
extremely difficult chord he’s never seen. Before he can play it effortlessly
he must practice it, over and over. Each time he comes to it he will have to
slow down slightly, until eventually it comes to his fingers easily and
naturally.
Another
example: if you are right-handed and I ask you to write your name on the
blackboard with your left hand it will feel clumsy to you and look sloppy. But
with practice you’ll be able to do it effortlessly. You may not be able to copy
the Town Charter with your left hand, but you can write your name convincingly.
We are not required as actors to do and feel everything our characters would
throughout their lives, but only those things that are required by the dramatic
event, and we have to do them only *when* they are required. If a certain
character might have a swagger when he walks but he is only sitting in his one
scene, then we don’t have to master a swagger, we have to master how that
particular character sits and moves in a chair (working either from the inside
out or the outside in). If at a certain moment he lights a cigarette and
smokes, then we have to master how he does it. If in another moment something
amuses him, we must master the distinctive way in which he laughs. The
accumulation of these details is what gives us the illusion of “being in
character,” and convinces the audience that we *are* the character.
It is also
worth mentioning that the more aspects of the character we master (based on the
requirements of the dramatic event) the easier it is to master other aspects of
the character. If we learn to write enough things on the blackboard with our
left hand, eventually we can write with our left hand as easily as with our
right.
(For truly
brilliant character work, try seeing Sean Penn in Woody Allen’s latest movie,
“Sweet and Lowdown.” Penn genuinely disappears inside his character, seemingly
without effort. The character is in the details.)
The TWENTY-SIX previous "theatre briefs" are here:
00. Introduction and Explanation
- Character Checklist
- Learning Lines
- Subtext: Does "no" mean "no"?
- Using Goals or Objectives
- Intentions
- Objectives and Super-Objectives
- Where are You Coming from?
- Specific Intentions, Part I
- Specific Intentions, Part II
- Don't Get Carried Away
- Specific Intentions and Dialogue
- Overcoming Obstacles
- Writing Your Programme Bio
- Breaking down the Text
- Overcoming Obstacles by Changing Intentions
- Reading the Actor's "Score"
- Using Expectations and Outcomes
- Using (and misusing) Emotions
- A Roadmap of Intentions
- Beginning at Step 4? Really?
- Disturbing the Molecules: Choosing active verbs
- Preparing Emotionally
- Realizations and Intentions
- Theatre Etiquette
- Diction