Hello friends.
So I haven't written much this week because, well, things haven't been all that interesting.
Tuesday I was in school for a total of one hour. We had tutorials which is basically the equivalent of the American Parent-teacher conference but without the parents. Normally when you have these meetings in America, it means you are in trouble. But here, it is genuinely to check on your progress and to see how you are adjusting to life here.
My first meeting was with Anna Birch, the research faculty member who is to guide us on our research paper. It lasted five minutes. She asked what my ideas were and how I'd go about it, and me being the person I am had a full couple of pages written. She let me get through about a page of it before she said it would be fine and sent me on my merry way.
The meeting with the dept head Mark Saunders was a little more useful. I gave feedback on how the Ensemble project went for me, said I was very comfortable here and well challenged, and he gave me feedback by saying that I'm doing very well. He seemed very happy with my progress. It was nice to hear that considering that most of the time I've been flying by the seat of my pants, crossing my fingers that I'm doing something right.
Wednesday was a two hour lecture by a Scottish theatre critic. Interesting, though completely biased. And that was followed by a programme meeting which basically outlined the next few weeks. I am beginning to feel the crunch of finding a one to two week placement with some sort of theatre/film company. The leads I've had have fallen through and now I'm at a loss. But there's time yet.
Thursday was the beginning of the Chekhov study of The Cherry Orchard. We were put in a heated carpeted fluorescent lit room for 7 hours and read the play aloud twice. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Now, I have a bit of trouble with chekhov sometimes, and especially with this play. I've read most if not all his stuff and have seen Alan Cumming and Diane Wiest in "The Seagull" which was brilliant. But The Cherry Orchard is one that is very tough for me to connect to. And I find in our group analysis that I don't necessarily agree with what other's are finding. But we got through that mind numbing day and my impending migraine that I was getting started to die down to only a simmer.
And here is where the title of this blog comes in. There are many kinds of methods to acting. I basically take pieces of all those methods that work for me and then bunch them all together. One of them is a thing called substitution. Now this can be unhealthy at times but also can be great when in need of sense memory. You see, Friday (today) was the day that we had to perform/audition for parts in The Cherry Orchard. We had to prepare a monologue from a contemporary play and perform it for the two directors and the class. I chose one of my audition pieces that has resonated very well for me over the past few years from Neil Simon's "Chapter Two", a play I truly love.
However, I find I can only get the best performance out of me when I recall a past (ok, ok, THE past heartbreak) of my life. It involves recalling the happiness that you had with that person, and then feeling the loss of it all over again. This may not work for most relationships, and it certainly wouldn't work with some of the ones I've had that have ended, but this specific one has always haunted me, and I knew it would work.
So Thursday night, I rehearse in my bedroom, I do the work, I do the research, and I do it well. And today I performed it and I think it went very well. It certainly wasn't perfect, but it was honest. Unfortunately though it has drudged up things that I'd much prefer to keep buried. Scabs that I thought were healed have now been picked off. And it has left me a bit raw. And incredibly annoyed with myself for still being affected.
What IS the moral you ask? What is the point to this story? I suppose it partly explains why acting is so hard. It makes you look at all your sore spots and fragilities, and then it makes you use them. It also begs to ask the question, where is the line that you should draw between healthy use of memory and when you should just try to pretend. Sometimes actors use too much of "what was", and it messes with them mentally. Also, sometimes actors use inappropriate memories that hinder rather than progress your work. You have to be very careful that you choose a memory that truly fits your scene as well as not eff you up for weeks.
I think though that there is a separation. I didn't do my monologue today, pretending that the guy I was talking to was my ex. That was only done last night in my room. But I could recall the feeling and desperation that I felt towards said past and then use it towards this new guy. Unfortunately Stanislavsky would still call this representational acting, but I don't care today. Because frankly it got the job done. And if I'm feeling the echoes now of "what was", I can only imagine the pitfalls if I had used "what is".
Regardless, at the end of the audition I was cast as Renevskaya, the matriarch, and am very pleased with the challenge of the role. And these echoes will fade in a few days. After all, time heals all wounds. ...or is it Time wounds all heels? Either way. I'm taking tonight off for myself.
We have class tomorrow (Saturday). It is a six hour workshop with the people from the Globe theatre. And then it's Guy Fawke's Day so hopefully we'll see some good fireworks in the evening. Remember, remember the 5th of November. :) Should be good.
Missing you.
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