Wednesday, June 13, 2012

BLOG #41: How Daenya begins the process of integrating the past and the present in order to ‘be in the moment’ with Berniece from August Wilson’s The Piano Lesson…



(For full comprehension of this discussion, please refer to Blogs #37-#40.) At this point, Daenya already knows a lot about interacting with other characters in scenes. She knows that any relationship in acting always begins with the actors listening and responding to each other, as themselves – before the elements of characterization are introduced. It sounds simple, but actors discover that every step of these ‘interactions’ has to be worked out.
Since Daenya is focusing on a monologue, why does she have to worry about partner acting? Because she is talking to someone - Avery, in this scene – and I would argue that even if her speech were a soliloquy that every word she says includes ‘a partner’ or ‘partners.’ The sensory objects you place in the scene are affecting you – and are, in a sense, your partners - but that is a subject I have already discussed and will discuss again on its own, at a later date. 
When Daenya was studying in my group classes, the curriculum was divided into two sessions per week: monologues in one and scenes in the other. The focus of the monologue class was ‘working through the body’- which included relaxation, breathing, vocal expression - and sense memory; the scene study part consisted of ‘working off the partner,’ figuring out objectives, playing actions and Meisner improvisations. In early blogs entries, I introduced a discussion of these methods. However, there is a lot more to be said – in fact one could go on ad infinitum, since what we are talking about here is the psychology of all human behavior.  (One of these days I’ll be ready to tackle Thomas Richard’s superb book, At Work with Grotowski on Physical Actions!)
Each section of my group class included aspects of the other’s methodology. For example, we worked out beats, actions and objectives for the monologues and found sensory objects for the partner work in the scenes. But time was always short, and actors often got lost when rehearsing on their own.  Putting sense memory together with the more objective partner work is usually a huge issue for actors. A student who is stronger in ‘working off the partner’ will completely lose their bearings when attempting to ‘bring in’ sense memory – because that’s not how the process works. (Sense memory is like breathing – you don’t think about it because oxygen is embedded in your body and surrounding you at the same time. You have to train yourself to be aware of memories during times when you are not acting, per se.)
If students have previously studied only Meisner, they are innately suspicious of sensory work – even when they are aware that ‘something is missing’ – and that is the reason they are trying a new class with a different curriculum! Those who have learned sensory work (Method) incorrectly - from the point of view of ‘matching people and events in their own life directly to the text’ - have the worst time of all because they are occupied in a fruitless activity which excludes the partner! Perhaps this is the reason that Meisner has edged out Method in modern acting training. That doesn’t work because it’s like trying to win a Marathon without breathing!  There are actors who claim they never use sense memory, but perhaps they are not aware that they are doing it.
Why is it so difficult to integrate these methods? The consciousness of a good actor is unusually precise and expanded like the ear of a musician, eye of a painter and the strength and grace of a dancer’s body. The actor has to be an ‘emotional acrobat’ but emotions depend on an unusually attuned body/mind connection. Otherwise, they just disappear and you don’t feel a thing; you’re a puppet without a ‘string puller.’
When Daenya returned to Berniece’s monologue in The Piano Lesson, she disappeared into the past. She was back in Jamaica with her mother, wearing that evocative blue dress; it consumed her – just as Berniece is stuck like a fly in amber with her mother and the memories of playing her beloved piano. The effect is paralyzing; it is airless and has no movement.
But acting isn’t interesting unless the character is traveling toward a destination – which means that the actor must be ‘traveling’ also. The character mirrors the actor’s journey. If this ‘movement’ is lacking the audience starts to fidget. It’s the same thing in life; we are bored by people who are ‘going nowhere’ – unless they are desperately trying to go somewhere and failing. This is Berniece’s case.  What is Berniece trying to do? She often appears to be sitting around feeling sorry for herself, but if that were true we couldn’t watch a play about her; she would put us to sleep! No, she is fighting every step of the way, even though you need to read the play carefully to see exactly how she does this. What does she want so badly?
Next week I will begin a discussion of the script, as this is where this journey generally begins. Sometimes work is improvised, but then one must listen very carefully to the conditions that the director lays down.  If the script isn’t fully realized, and the actor is allowed to develop his/her own character – again the actor must pay attention to the ‘set-up’ that has already been put in place.

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