The ACTion COLLECTIVE: ACT V, scene ii - Personal Character - Find Your Voice


"Everything you create comes from here."

Last night The Action Collective held our second in a series of workshops focused on character building, and our first to be led by a guest artist:
Raïna von Waldenburg. Raïna is a teacher of Andrew's from NYU's experimental theatre wing, and we met with her a few weeks ago to discuss the possibility of leading a workshop with us, one based on her I Am One Who program of workshops. You can read more about her and her program on the Facebook invitation for the event, but here's a snippet of a description of the approach and goals:
"In a series of improvisations that require the actor to exist in the (power of) now, he/she will be faced with judges, habits, blocks, quirks, and latent talents that he/she has pushed aside. By literally inviting these undesirable parts of him/herself into the work, the actor suddenly has access to impulses that are alive, surprisingly truthful and emotionally resonant. The actor will learn to channel these impulses into acting that is present, open and honest, not forced, pushed or fake."
So: important and intimidating stuff. I was reminded, by her description of the technique and at times in practice, of the initial work Friends Heather, Todd and I did with Grey Valenti learning red-nose clowning. It involves that kind of sheer vulnerability and sincerity -- the very sorts of things I've been working rather hard (though somewhat subconsciously) to avoid in the past year. It also, however, has some important distinctions from that Lecoq-esque clown work, as I was to discover in the course of the evening.

An important part of the process has to do with identifying personal "judges," or voices of criticism within our own hearts and minds, and understanding them as characters. Raïna led each of us from theorizing what these individual, major judgments may be, through exploring them as people and finding a dialogue with them, right on to turning our judges into very promising characters in their own rights. She was incredibly present and listening and, though the work progressed very evenly over the course of three hours, you could tell that she was constantly responding to what was happening in the room, adapting our direction based on the "conversation" between students and teacher, or seekers and guide. Moreover, she did it all in such a way that we really had to give ourselves over to the work, because that was all we had to work with. Yet it was never strict, or forced. At least, not forced by her; there was plenty of forced work going on, whenever one of us got defensive or confused in an exercise.

A personal example: After some discussion of our personal judges, we began the exercises with practicing being open and available--present--with an audience. No need to do anything in particular, just don't retreat inward as you maintain eye contact and connection. This gradually developed in our observations and discussions into an informal rating system of 5 to 1 for how open we felt, 5 being not at all, 1 being as open as possible. One exercise along these parameters that she gave us was to start at 5 with everyone, and at some point in the course of 30 seconds flip into a 1 state. I found this really, really difficult (never really did get it) and in the course of my efforts, Raïna encouraged me to give voice to whatever impulse was preventing me from doing something so simple (my words, not hers). Eventually in the course of another 30-second attempt I twisted up my right elbow and neck in some abstract expression of frustration and sneered, "F@#$ this...." And that was good. And that was what we needed to move forward. Admitting my judgment of the exercise was how I could develop further into the work.

I think it's pretty safe to say that everyone last night learned something close to the level of a personal revelation or two (or, in my case, about a half-dozen). We were all working very hard, bravely, vulnerably and sometimes even without personal constraint. By the end, we were one-by-one improvising entire scenarios comprised of just us, and all the judges and judged that battle daily within us. Here was one of the important distinctions from the clown work that I've done, and the one that very nearly made me too defensively to effectively do the work: the naming of our judges. This requires a level of discussion and reflection that I believe actors tend to resist, because we're conditioned to -- afraid, aptly enough, of being judged as narcissistic and cerebral. And we resist it because it's frankly terrifying to acknowledge, to encourage, our judgments of ourselves. Adam Laupus made a pretty concise observation about it last night when he said that by naming one's judges, you begin to take their power back from them.

Apart from all that personal benefit, however, is a benefit of pure acting technique. This is an amazingly wonderful practice that bridges that strange divide between practices that help prepare for rehearsal and ones that are actually useful in rehearsal (for example, you would not [should not {yes; I'm judging}]) pull out the Meisner repetition exercise in the middle of rehearsing the last scene of The Glass Menagerie. This I Am One Who practice gives us a way to connect better with ourselves and our audiences, but also adds a powerful tool to the character-creation toolkit. It's genuine and impulse-based, breaks us out of habit, and it literally creates powerful characters for an actor to use. It's not often these days that I feel that sense of my perception of the acting process expanding, a feeling that I came to expect regularly in my studies at college. Last night, I felt that again, and I'm grateful to Ms. von Waldenburg for that.

In this sense, last night's event was a tremendous success for one of the goals of The Action Collective -- to provide actors with a space to do the work for which there is little time (or, in some cases, too much judgment) to accomplish in a typical rehearsal process. To enrich actors, instead of merely offering support. We may soon be making changes to the way the AC works, and what kind of work it takes on, but I'm encouraged by this latest workshop to maintain that priority. It's too important and too rare to neglect.

The ACTion COLLECTIVE: ACT V, scene i - Physical Character


It seems strange to write about last night's workshop; I suppose because I led it, but that doesn't actually make any sense: I write here all the time about my own work, The Action Collective is something of which I am one of two founders and last night was a great start to incorporating workshops into our regular schedule of events. It went well, the new (to us) space was perfect (replete with five-flight walk-up warm-up) and I was duly (and unsurprisingly) impressed with the work that each attendee cranked out of it. Perhaps what's tripping me up about it is that even though this was our fifth event, neither Andrew nor I actually led the previous ones. We kind of try to set up a mechanism for each evening, and we nudge it along and try to set people at ease, but in that this was our first workshop I really functioned as a leader. And I guess I feel a little odd reviewing myself at this time. I plea the fifth, regardless of whether or not it actually applies to my circumstances.

So instead, I'll bare my plans and schemes. Below is the outline I prepared for the workshop (apologies for the lack of indentation; I have wrestled with Blogger, and I have definitively lost). I wish I had some photographs or video as well, but alas, I am not a multitasker. You should take me to task, though, Dear Reader. Read it. Agree, disagree, let me know what confuses, and what you want more information about. I've led many a workshop in my time, but they're normally for amateur or inexperienced actors (occasionally, for non-actors) and the real challenge this time was to tackle similar material in a way that would be helpful and entertaining for experienced performers. I think it was helpful. I'm less assured about the entertainment value, but I was tremendously entertained by their work, so: Yay me!

Act V, scene i Lesson Plan

Premise:
There are two basic situations of physical character creation -- characters created from cues in a script or other supporting material, and those created from scratch and/or in improvisation. The key priorities these have in common are:
  1. Distinguishing physical characteristics of character from physical characteristics of actor.
  2. Creating physical characteristics that enhance the story.
  3. Living through the characteristics, as opposed to demonstrating them.

In this workshop we will aim to learn and share methods of creating and distinguishing physical choices for a character, refining those choices to serve the larger picture, and incorporating those choices into instinctive behavior.

Outline:
I. Introduction
A. Introductions all around
B. Introduce AC, Jeff & Andrew
C. Introduce ACT V & scene i
1. Goals
2. My background
D. Introduce Megan
II. Warm-Up
A. Megan's Yoga (15 minutes)
III. Groundwork - Distinguishing the Choices
A. Review viewpoints grid
B. Teach "active neutral"
C. Request "neutralizing" techniques
IV. Scratch/Improv. Techniques
*. Request improv. techniques
A. Body centers
B. Appetites
C. Animals?
V. Script Techniques
A. Introduce Laban vocabulary
1. Body
2. Shape
3. Space
4. Effort
a. space - direct/indirect
b. weight - strong/light
c. time - sudden/sustained
d. flow - bound/free
B. Text analysis in relation to Laban
1. Adjectives about character
2. Verbs & nouns by character
3. Rhythm and pace experimentation
4. Word from a hat
C. Request script techniques
VI. Unification
A. Practice, practice, practice
B. Respect the space/mask
C. Externalize the inner-work
1. Passing impulse
2. Props
3. Passing ball
VII. Wrap-Up/Discussion

The ACTion COLLECTIVE: ACT IV - It's All About You


On Thursday last, The Action Collective fired up its first event of the new year. (January we devoted our energies instead to internal structuring and producing our very first newsletter, which we hope to make a regular, monthly occurrence.) I wasn't sure what to expect from this one. It was different in that we were asking for a great deal more preparation from our actors than we have to date: we asked them to write a scene. The scenes were then cast in the room, and performed after only a quick read-through "rehearsal" with some notes from the writer. Andrew and I committed ourselves to the same assignment, in keeping with our ethos that we are members of the Collective along with being the ones who make it run. We were mercifully (for us, and all involved, I think) saved by the bell from having our pieces performed. It is in part because of this that I can say with absolute confidence that all the scenes that night were really, really good.

(Actually, for all I know, I would have been the only writing liability of the evening. Andrew's good at, like, everything, so he's probably good at playwriting too. [Jerkface.])

I was eager to have another event after such a break, but also uniquely nervous, given that exposing my writing makes me way more anxious than exposing, say, myself on stage. It's entirely debatable which of these is actually more revealing about a person, but I tend to feel more in control of the latter, I suppose. That's part of what was amazing about the whole thing -- people brought it. It got broughten. And by "it," I mean risk-taking, specific choices and strong results. Andrew and I have talked about producing a show through The AC for as long as we've talked about the organization itself, and last Thursday showed me that member-generated work would not only function in this, it could be relied upon entirely.

Here we had actors working with other actors' scripts, and it created what I found to be a unique synergy of like-mindedness. We could quickly grasp what our fellow artist had intended, because we spoke similar languages, and this resulted in the actors being pleasantly surprised by what accessible material they had to work with, and the playwrights (some of the same people, in their turns) being surprised by what could be brought to their words. It was win-win, in other words, and as the evening progressed it seemed we all grew quite proud of one another. Feedback flowed more easily, and people started to feel truly at home in the process. Just when I think The AC has achieved the sense of community I was aiming for, the next event shows me a new and promising way to allow that sense to grow.

Friend Nat (who was in attendance) coined a term some three years ago on this here 'blog: "creactors." The Chimeric nature of that word is really grotesque, which made me laugh, and so it has since been a tag on many a post here ever since. It refers to actors who also create their own work with skills outside of those traditionally associated with acting. In other words, actors who write, choreograph, direct and produce, paint and draw, etc. It covers most people, actually, but only ever refers to those who take the risk of creating their own work. And ACT IV brought it home for me that The Action Collective is a group that is perfect for "creators," and already has many talented ones actively involved in shaping it. Which couldn't please me more.

Except that it will; it holds great promise, and opens up the possibilities for what our fledgling community can hope to achieve. Andrew and I are excitedly gathering resources for the next event and newsletter, as well as for long-range plans for the year. Watch this space (or, you know, the AC 'blog, Facebook and/or Twitter pages). It's all about you, after all...

You awaken in a semi-dark room...

Thinking...

Oh god...wha...wha....

You think in un-words, it seems.

Wha...whoo...where am I? What happened?

Gradually you realize that the only light, barely illuminating your prostrate form, is the flickering glow of a very tired computer monitor. The computer's exhausted cooling fan whirs dejectedly, intermittently, at you. You realize you're surrounded by ripped paper all over the floor, a cup of eggnog in one hand, a trashy novel in the other, and a pair of tinted glasses on your face that proudly proclaim (backwards, from your perspective) "0102"...

I should have known better than to expect myself to diligently 'blog through the holy daze of late December, early (er...read: "most of") January. Happy 2010, everyone! Or, as Wife Megan insists on proclaiming it: "Oh-10!" Exclamation point being obligatory, natch'.

Item!: My return to directing begins this weekend, with Josh Sohn's ten-minute play Flowers premiering as a part of Where Eagles Dare's short play lab. In the show you'll see Friends Nat Cassidy and Richard Grunn doing what they do best (but also acting). Find out where it's at, in every sense, at this magical button text place sentence.

Item!: Very exciting things brew with The Action Collective this year with the theme, "It's All About You." We are forgoing our monthly event for January to focus instead on structural work for the organization and publishing our first-ever newsletter for our members. People will be published! And sort of syndicated!

Item!: The foolish folks at NYU's film school have invited me back to be a part of their filmic enterprises for what will be a marathon day on February the 2nd.

Item!: I'm producing a variety show to take place as a part of the Electric Theatre Company's "second stage" program, Out On a Limb. It will be entitled The Spectacular Scrantonian Spectacular! (exclamation point being obligatory, natch') and feature song and dance and, above all else, variety. Not only will I be producing this cavalcade of talent, but I'll also be MC. Well, me and my clown character (...cue the My Buddy theme...and go...).


Sorry. That was way creepier than I had remembered. Effin' creepy.

Anyway. 'Tis a busy time, not only creatively (YAY!) but also practically (BOO!), and I miss blogging. Hence this not-a-post. Wait, maybe I can squeeze some meaningful insight into my final few remaining words -

Effin' creepy.

Aw, crap.

Nyuck Nyuck OOF! Bleaah...

One of the things I find interesting about the silly season is how miraculously it makes me multi-task to the point of forgetting really basic priorities. It's a little bit like how I remember skiing to be, back in my gilded youth when I skied somewhat regularly. I would get going on the up-and-down of it all, five o'clock would roll around and I'd begin to wonder why I felt dizzy and my eyes had dried up in my head. I don't forget to eat and drink around Christmas, but it's close. I was fortunate enough last week, however, to have a nice, centering

ACTion Collective

event to anchor me in spot for a bit. Just long enough to plant a cream pie in my merry face.

This, our third event --

ACT III: Nyuck Nyuck Nyuck

-- was an intimate and rather relaxed affair. The "cocktail hour" period was spent with all in a single, spontaneous circle of chairs, which was a first. We had a total of about nine there, including Andrew and myself, partly a result of three last-minute cancellations due to holiday complications. None of this was surprising, of course. We wondered in planning ACT III whether it made sense to adhere to our not-yet-a-schedule in the face of everyone's holiday, and decided we should, for a variety of reasons. Several of the people who did attend last Thursday's event specifically scheduled their holiday plans to make time for it, and we learned a lot as a result of the smaller group.

The goal of the evening was to play comic two-hander scenes as well as possible when they are selected at random. We emailed the scenes in advance, save a couple that

Friend Nat

brought in that evening, and asked everyone to have a passing familiarity with them so they wouldn't be handed a scene with absolutely no context. Of course, how much of those attachments people chose to read was out of our control, and it seemed that some were more familiar than others. Nevertheless, no one was quite out to sea, and some people really brought on some interesting work . . . both intentionally, and accidentally. Nat himself chose a scene from Moliere's

Tartuffe

that, for reasons of an error in transcription, switched the roles midway. He and his scene partner rolled with it, though, and it was a very nearly seamless transition -- it became practically a deconstruction of the scene. Moreover, with the smaller group everyone had a moment or more to really shine and create something memorable.

Our game mechanics did not function quite as well as I had hoped they might, and it's difficult to identify exactly why that might be. Certainly part of it was that very few people were willing to repeat a scene that had gone before, which led to a deflation of a big part of our idea: that actors would build on one another's work. I had every title in the hat twice, to safeguard against this possibility, but it quickly became evident to me that there was in our group no enthusiasm for repetition. I think we'll return to this idea with a different (and stronger) structure, because I'm excited by the possibilities in collaborative character-building and scene-work. When it is the focus of an event, I think we'll have some very interesting results.

The exercises were bookended by a set-up and a payoff (though I muffed the timing of the set-up a bit by brazenly forgetting to mention it until we had already started). We started (almost) out by mentioning that, by the end of the evening, someone would be hit in the face with a pie. This was Andrew's idea at some stage of brainstorming, but I was 100% behind it.

Zuppa del Giorno

has been trying to incorporate pie fights into our shows for years, and I was eager to see it in action. Fortunately for me, I was eager to see it from any perspective. What we did not reveal until later in the evening was that it was a choice between myself and Andrew as victim of the pie toss, and that everyone was going to vote. It would seem I was a little too expressive of my enthusiasm for this idea, however, because the decision to have me picking shaving cream out of my nostrils 60 seconds later was in fact unanimous. Pow. Right in the kisser.

Photo courtesy of Andrew Elliott.