The acting schools
October 25th 2009 23:37
The first school is kindergarten and playtime. They teachers are gentle, and acting is more game than art.
The students never see into the depths of it, but they never lose the love of it.
The second school is a dancing school.
To their surprise, the graduates of the school discover that acting comes naturally to them.
They move beautifully, firstly.
But there is much more -- they have "stage presence", whatever this means, they are magnetically watchable, and their performances are expressive and full of physical life.
At the third school, the students are trained in reactivity, which is one of the most important things for an actor to learn. Their performances are praiseworthy, certainly, for the action and the emotion are authentic -- embarrassment is real embarrassment, threatening is real threatening, begging is real begging... -- And, so the thinking goes, surely there is nothing more real than real.
Of course, many do speak in disparagement. For that one skill, reactivity, is now taught in isolation, whereas the school's founder had envisaged a fuller curriculum -- voice, movement, dance. There is a sense in which students of the school are separated from all other aspects of a scene, and are insensitive to the flow of creativity generally.
A critic might claim:
-- The one skill has been taught to the detriment of others. The students never learn relaxation, justification, concentration... Nor are they taught the nitty gritty of working with stages or with cameras.
-- In particular, they are weak on character. The students respond naturally, yes, but wherever they go, they find themselves.
-- The training unlocks a degree of instinct -- it removes blocks -- it peels back society's mask of politeness and restraint -- it is liberating in this sense. But is "negative liberty" sufficient? Do students ever attain the expressivity of dancers? Do they ever unlock their behaviour?
-- In reliance on unconstrained reactivity, the style is found to suit particular styles, roles, texts. The teachers never realize, for instance, that lies can lie closer to truth -- that beyond naturalism there is a world of symbolism and expressivism -- and that beyond the psychology of the individual are the voices of cultures and species...
The fourth school is a ragtag collection of comedians and improvisers.
They have a joy and a roughness, and their thoughts are fast, and their imaginations are fertile.
A surprising number of them go on to be wonderful actors, attuned to audiences, awake to the shapes of roles, clear about what beats are required when, and aware of what it means to commit to a moment.
They have method of sorts, and they have physical life and interest, but usually they lack the depth, discipline, and flexibility of other schools.
Most of them never become actors, becoming confused as to the difference between real and theatrical, and living more in their heads than in their bodies.
The fifth school is widely acclaimed. The actors have method and experience and have been through the trenches. They are taught and prepared for many things, and they give of themselves to an astonishing degree. They are wonderful emotionalizers, and this pleases audiences.
The training does transform them.
But quiet voices speak of the occasional selfishness of the actors, their lack of connection to their acting partners, and the flatness of many productions.
A similar school, the sixth, is controversial.
Truthfulness is pursued fanatically, and many former students of the school are justly acclaimed. They graduate equipped with definite new abilities.
Among the many criticisms of the school, it is pointed out that students can be locked into themselves and selfish, can be quick to escalate to emotional extremes, and are sometimes traumatized by the training.
The system is found particularly to suit certain characters and genres.
The seventh, rival, school is brilliant in character. Research and preparation are emphasised; students are told they must earn the right to play each role, and they search for the life of each role. They are equipped to analyze scripts and scenes. And there is a sense in which the process is "organic",and unseparated from life generally.
Somewhat paradoxically, no specific skills are learnt, and no detailed method is taught. The school doesn't isolate and develop particular abilities. The training has as much intensity as other schools, but lacks their systematization and rigour.
It is reliant, say some, on the skills of the teacher, but perhaps the same could be said of most of the schools...
The final school is the oldest. It has many surprising qualities that, on reflection, are understandable -- it is more open than expected to different approaches and dramatic genres, it is more practical than one would expect, tied to nitty gritties of stage and real life, there is much in it that lacks explanation and systematization, and there is sometimes the sense, oddly, that modern science has passed it by.
At the same time, the methods it does teach are more detailed than expected.
Its scope is impressive, but its openness cannot be sustained. The overall impression is of a river, about to divide, and required to divide, into many tributaries.
The students never see into the depths of it, but they never lose the love of it.
***
The second school is a dancing school.
To their surprise, the graduates of the school discover that acting comes naturally to them.
They move beautifully, firstly.
But there is much more -- they have "stage presence", whatever this means, they are magnetically watchable, and their performances are expressive and full of physical life.
***
At the third school, the students are trained in reactivity, which is one of the most important things for an actor to learn. Their performances are praiseworthy, certainly, for the action and the emotion are authentic -- embarrassment is real embarrassment, threatening is real threatening, begging is real begging... -- And, so the thinking goes, surely there is nothing more real than real.
Of course, many do speak in disparagement. For that one skill, reactivity, is now taught in isolation, whereas the school's founder had envisaged a fuller curriculum -- voice, movement, dance. There is a sense in which students of the school are separated from all other aspects of a scene, and are insensitive to the flow of creativity generally.
A critic might claim:
-- The one skill has been taught to the detriment of others. The students never learn relaxation, justification, concentration... Nor are they taught the nitty gritty of working with stages or with cameras.
-- In particular, they are weak on character. The students respond naturally, yes, but wherever they go, they find themselves.
-- The training unlocks a degree of instinct -- it removes blocks -- it peels back society's mask of politeness and restraint -- it is liberating in this sense. But is "negative liberty" sufficient? Do students ever attain the expressivity of dancers? Do they ever unlock their behaviour?
-- In reliance on unconstrained reactivity, the style is found to suit particular styles, roles, texts. The teachers never realize, for instance, that lies can lie closer to truth -- that beyond naturalism there is a world of symbolism and expressivism -- and that beyond the psychology of the individual are the voices of cultures and species...
***
The fourth school is a ragtag collection of comedians and improvisers.
They have a joy and a roughness, and their thoughts are fast, and their imaginations are fertile.
A surprising number of them go on to be wonderful actors, attuned to audiences, awake to the shapes of roles, clear about what beats are required when, and aware of what it means to commit to a moment.
They have method of sorts, and they have physical life and interest, but usually they lack the depth, discipline, and flexibility of other schools.
Most of them never become actors, becoming confused as to the difference between real and theatrical, and living more in their heads than in their bodies.
***
The fifth school is widely acclaimed. The actors have method and experience and have been through the trenches. They are taught and prepared for many things, and they give of themselves to an astonishing degree. They are wonderful emotionalizers, and this pleases audiences.
The training does transform them.
But quiet voices speak of the occasional selfishness of the actors, their lack of connection to their acting partners, and the flatness of many productions.
***
A similar school, the sixth, is controversial.
Truthfulness is pursued fanatically, and many former students of the school are justly acclaimed. They graduate equipped with definite new abilities.
Among the many criticisms of the school, it is pointed out that students can be locked into themselves and selfish, can be quick to escalate to emotional extremes, and are sometimes traumatized by the training.
The system is found particularly to suit certain characters and genres.
***
The seventh, rival, school is brilliant in character. Research and preparation are emphasised; students are told they must earn the right to play each role, and they search for the life of each role. They are equipped to analyze scripts and scenes. And there is a sense in which the process is "organic",and unseparated from life generally.
Somewhat paradoxically, no specific skills are learnt, and no detailed method is taught. The school doesn't isolate and develop particular abilities. The training has as much intensity as other schools, but lacks their systematization and rigour.
It is reliant, say some, on the skills of the teacher, but perhaps the same could be said of most of the schools...
***
The final school is the oldest. It has many surprising qualities that, on reflection, are understandable -- it is more open than expected to different approaches and dramatic genres, it is more practical than one would expect, tied to nitty gritties of stage and real life, there is much in it that lacks explanation and systematization, and there is sometimes the sense, oddly, that modern science has passed it by.
At the same time, the methods it does teach are more detailed than expected.
Its scope is impressive, but its openness cannot be sustained. The overall impression is of a river, about to divide, and required to divide, into many tributaries.
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