Sunday, July 20, 2014

Creating a Role: Part II - Reading the Script

This is the second installment in an ongoing series of articles about creating a role, namely J.J. Brown in the new revival of The Unsinkable Molly Brown, opening at the Denver Center on September 19th, 2014. If you’d like to start at the beginning, click HERE.




Most actors begin the process of preparing for auditions and performance from a great disadvantage: they don’t know how to read a script.

When first reading a play, an actor is clueless to storyline or any character specifics. At this juncture, the vast majority of performers have only one option: guess at each and every line reading. Most of these guesses will fall wide of the author’s intent. Much of the play’s drama and comedy will be missed. After reading the first scene of a play, most readers already lag so far behind skilled professionals, they have no chance to catch up. When reading a script, the first hurdle of the acting process, most fall far short of the bare minimum performance standard…

…Do no harm to the play!

There is only one approach to first reading a script: let the words do the work. Means to this end are rudimentary, but few performers know, use or practice these basic techniques. Yet to read a script effectively, you only need to follow one rule (#14), Just say the line!


The Primary Rules of Dialogue

1.  Look to the speaker (or gaze off slightly) and DON’T MOVE when listening. On the rare occasion, react BETWEEN the speaker’s ideas, not on them.
2.   Find HOME (relaxation).
3.   AVOID using declarative line readings (stating facts).
4.   Ask questions on ALL speeches; toss lines up, demand a response.
5.   Pick up your cues!
6.   EARN pauses; take “the air” out of speeches, and before them.
7.   Act ON the line (not before, between or after it.)
8. Deliver speeches “in one,” using one breath. In longer speeches, use catch-breaths to make speeches seem “in one.” Drive toward the main idea at speech’s end, or towards one thought that comes at the end of many lines. Make ONE choice, not many.
9.  Repeat, or use similar subtext questions for as many speeches as possible until “the turn of the scene,” or because repeating questions play against storyline, direction or credibility. Continue to press one idea, one intention until idea’s end.
10. In soliloquy, have a dialogue with your conscience, with God, and/or directly to the audience, adhering to all the rules of dialogue craft.
11.  Use rules to break rules. Make rule breaking the exception, not the rule.
12.  Make strong and specific creative choices. Guess!
13.  Apply to the above the rules of comedic craft.
14.  When you have no acting choice, “Just say the line” using all the rules above.


Following these rules begins the acting process at performance competence: act like a human being, and only explore choices worthy of stage performance. Although different actors use different terms to describe these guidelines, for centuries these rules have proved mandatory when speaking onstage. In the history of the musical medium, no actor has ever given a great, good or even competent libretto performance without consistently adhering to these rules. Even if you possessed the creative brilliance of Meryl Streep, if you don’t consistently follow say, Rule #5 (pick up your cues in dialogue), your stage performance will be dull, if not indulgent. Repeatedly breaking other rules garners equally destructive results. When speaking dialogue in the theater, if you don’t regularly follow the primary rules of dialogue your chances of performance excellence falls to ZERO!

Thus, your acting talent becomes worthless.

When creating a role, establishing character patterns is essential. If in scene after scene you play “deadpan” (without emotion), when your character finally smiles it will mean something! Finding character patterns (traits) is perhaps the main function of the creative acting process. It’s your “Stanislavski.” It’s pretend. No rule will teach you how to make these choices. Character traits and specific moment-to-moment scene choices are guesses. They’re pick ‘ems based on the script, direction and your artistic taste. Here, you must guess, and guess compellingly.

Craft rules add to creative patterns. These guidelines are not guesses, but instead are facts. If players consistently pick up cues, the slightest hesitation before speaking will mean something! If you don’t pick up your cues, these hesitations become meaningless. This is proven. If you don’t stick to the patterns of both character and craft, comedic and dramatic opportunities (surprises) disappear from the text. As each opportunity vanishes, so do your chances of giving a compelling performance.

Although few read well, musical theatre students usually come to the study of acting with a built-in work ethic, because most often they've spent years studying singing and dance. The diligence and disciplines required to learn these crafts are easily adapted to acting. Just step up to the dramatic barre, and begin practicing the notes and steps of dialogue. 

1.)   Read aloud ten minutes everyday. Most actors share the same problem, the written page. If you can read aloud easily and beautifully, stage acting becomes MUCH easier! Like learning the crafts of song or dance, there’s no shortcut to acquiring this skill. Practice is the only path to excellence. If you read aloud everyday for ten minutes, there is a 100% chance you will become a better stage actor. After practice, when casting directors shove you pages at auditions, yours will be one of the few hands not shaking during the read.

2.)   Read LOUDLY (at least sometimes), or often talk loud. Find the “ping,” the placement where with less exertion the voice travels farther. Audiences don’t care how brilliant acting choices are if they can’t hear you.

3.)   Over articulate the words, particularly word and sentence endings; shape and texture words to make them worthy of libretto performance. Practice the art of wordplay, and begin to understand the nuances of punctuation. Great dancers and singers become great because they sing and dance a lot. The same goes for speaking onstage. Start practicing today.

4.)   Memorize the fourteen rules of dialogue craft.

5.)   Learn why these rules are mandatory to stage performance, and why breaking them does great harm to the libretto. Although every actor has been told to follow dialogue rules, few consistently do. Over the years of a career, before audiences and where risk is costly, actors typically begin to realize the importance of craft. Only then do they start to consistently utilize craft into performance, and thus practice. Most actors come to auditions and rehearsals with major gaps in their craft knowledge. I spent a decade in the business before consciously practicing these rules. Yet had I learned the importance of craft at conservatory, I would have entered the business leap-years ahead of my graduating peers. To learn the what, whys and hows of these rules, see my book, Stanislavski Never Wore Tap Shoes (Musical Theater Acting Craft)

6.)  Practice the rules at home, at auditions, during rehearsals and in performance so you can understand the rules, and their paramount importance to stage acting. Without practice, these rules are useless.

7.)   Note the positive results, as well as watch others use these rules to magnificent effect so you will embrace craft. See shows, or watch skilled professionals at rehearsal or from the wings. View silver screen classics, and filmed comedies from the fifties and sixties. These acting styles are much akin to musical performance. Watching Old School masters on film or video is the most cost-effective acting training. Learn from excellence!

8.)   Get more jobs so that you can master the rules.

9.)   Don’t EVER stop learning the rules! Recently, I worked with stage veteran Jeff McCarthy, Tony nominee for Urinetown. One night, as we made our exit, Jeff whispered, “Learn something everyday…act ON the line!” After searching for weeks in rehearsal and performance, he simply stuck to a rule and found the elusive moment (a laugh). Skilled actors don’t just learn the rules and move on. Like veteran dancers at the barre, fine actors continually return to and practice basics. It’s our lifeblood. It’s our solution to so many of acting’s dilemmas. You can’t do without craft, yet many, many try. After well over three decades on the professional stage, Jeff McCarthy is still studying basic craft. Do the same. You’ll never regret it.

*          *          *

Three days ago, I received Dick Scanlan’s rewrite of The Unsinkable Molly Brown. I opened the first page, and read the text by simply following dialogue rules, and using other craft tricks. I picked up my cues and asked questions on every line. I tossed dialogue up. I demanded a response. I acted ON the line, rather than before or between its ideas. I allowed the text to earn pauses. I applied the rules of comedy. I utilized the throwaway, as well as hung and repeated questions. I drove speeches, or a series of speeches through to one thought at line’s end, one main idea. I talked like a real human being. I explored only choices worthy of libretto performance. I allowed the words to do the work, and so the author’s intent unfolded easily and clearly. Atop a foundation of craft, my creativity, my talent was then free to play.

At first read, I want to be swept away by the story, rather than just concentrate on my part. I  read every character with integrity, and try to experience the plight of all. Because Molly is a revival, I bought the album and listened to each song as it arose. Yet many songs in Dick’s script are new and have no recording. So, I just spoke those lyrics using the rules. By read’s end, I had discovered three important things about the new Molly Brown…

1   -This script has few similarities to the original libretto. It’s an entirely new play containing a completely different storyline, along with many new characters and sub-plots. Other than Molly (who is still indomitable), characters bear little resemblance to their originals.

      - Dick Scanlan’s effort is the best rewrite I’ve ever read!

      -I’m DYING to read it again!

After first read, I like to begin the second ASAP. While the story is still fresh in my mind, I want to go back and see how each scene effectively (or ineffectively) drives to play’s conclusion. I want to figure out the nuts and bolts of the writing. I want to see if the story builds naturally, or at times loses its way. I want to find the surprises, and find where surprise is given away prematurely. Why is this scene here? Why does this character say this line at this time? What is the structure of the play, and why is it structured that way? In what manner does my role serve the story? What cog do I play in the greater whole? What are the “traps” of my role, that which I wish to avoid playing?

By third read I’m already guessing, perhaps even knowing the basic character traits of my role; the parameters I will remain within when playing. I’m looking for scripted patterns, as well guessing character consistencies. Breaking these patterns will become the stuff of drama and comedy in performance. At this point of the process, any choice made is speculation and can easily be discarded come rehearsal. Yet after the third read, I’m fairly certain how I’ll approach creating  J.J. Brown.

-Throughout the play, Molly is more than just energetic; she’s an entire fireworks display! Unlike Harv Presnell’s highly energetic and gorgeously sung original portrayal, the rewritten J.J. probably needs to embody stillness. I’m thinking my guy needs to stand his ground, and keep gesticulation to a minimum. Don’t mimic your scene partner’s energy" is the general rule. Molly chews scenery, moves about, fights, rants and goes on and on. J.J. must be her complimenting opposite.

-J.J. Brown is written with an “Irish temper.” He explodes instantaneously. This plays against the above idea, and so becomes the primary conflict for both actor and character. The trap is to yell all the lines; be angry all the time. The key is to create a pattern that has him continually fighting to keep his temper, rather than searching for places to lose it. This creates the character’s cruising speed, how he will be played most of the time. The more infrequently the pattern is changed, the more powerful it will be when I break that pattern by exploding.

By fourth read, I’m “combing” my part through the text. I’m trying to discern if the choices above, as well as others I find along the way actually fit the scripted dialogue, scene action and best serve story. This tweaking and honing process will continue until the show’s final performance. Other than suggesting a line edit, cut or addition to author and/or director, I don’t write many notes in my script. Other actors write copiously in the margins. When it comes to making script notations or researching a part, whatever serves you best is best approach.

When creating a libretto character, reading a script properly is the first order of business. This initial process immediately separates amateur from skilled professional, and frequently employed from unemployed. Although talent and experience play a great factor in finding scripted nuance, at first read actors of every level are faced with a choice.

Do I guess at all line readings, 
or do I begin the process on a foundation of knowledge using craft?

Few choose the latter, because few know their craft. Acting is tough…very. But it’s a lot easier if you know what the hell you’re doing from the get-go.

Gotta read the script again. I’ll soon start memorizing my lines, but first I have two other projects; a reading tomorrow in NYC, and another reading up in the Berkshires.  So, I now have to start all over using techniques described in this post. Unlike for Molly Brown, these rehearsal schedules are brutally short. Reading aloud before an audience is difficult, but when there's this little rehearsal, it can be terrifying. But, I’ve read this post aloud about twenty times today, and read aloud most everyday. I can read. I’ve done the work. Plus, I have plenty of experience at these types of events. When I don’t have a choice in performance, which will be often, I’ll “Just Say My Lines."


If you’re doing the same, break a leg!

Burke



To continue click here: PART III - The Table Read

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Creating a Role: Part I - Research



In about three weeks, I begin rehearsal for a new version of The Unsinkable Molly Brown at the Denver Center. Dick Scanlon (Thoroughly Modern Millie) is tackling the rewrite. He was given access from the estate to eighty additional Meredith Wilson songs and will use some in the revision. I have not yet seen the new script, or know what songs will be kept or discarded. Other than keeping the voice and bod in shape, there isn’t much to do at this point other than read up on the subject matter.

My past experiences with researching a role have garnered mixed results. I played Captain Von Trapp in the most recent major North American revival up in Toronto in The Sound of Music. In the play, Von Trapp is a stern and imperious figure who, in Act I, ignores the needs of his children. Yet in my research found the real Georg a kindly and gregarious man, and by all accounts a loving father.

The Von Trapp in the libretto seems to have walked the deck of a battleship where subordinates might well have found him unapproachable. Yet the real Captain was one of the first submariners. These tin cans were labeled “death-traps” (carbon-monoxide poisoning took many lives.) No doubt traditional military protocol was dispensed because seaman and officer were forced to work side by side in cramped sweltering conditions. Other than marrying a nun, singing with his family in public and eventually immigrating to the States, Oscar Hammerstein’s Von Trapp, as well as the story of The Sound of Music, is a complete fabrication. Of the many books I read about the man, his wife, children and their true tale, I found absolutely nothing that aided me in performance.

 

Conversely, I found many useful tidbits researching for the new musical Johnny Baseball, where I played The Sultan of Swat, slugger Babe Ruth at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, MA. Not only is there a great deal written about the guy, but he is also such an iconic figure of Americana that some kind of impersonation was mandatory. 

In the 1920’s and 30’s, the most exciting event in American sports was to see Babe Ruth hit a home run. The second most thrilling event was to see him strike out. Every diamond fan knows Ruth’s swing, and so imitating that action was essential, but no easy feat. I’m a righty. Ruth batted from the left. He used a massive club and must have had Herculean wrist strength to whip it through the strike zone with such fury. I’m no waif, but with the same size bat I couldn’t do the same. So, I asked our prop person to drill out the center to lighten its weight.


Every baseball aficionado is also familiar with Ruth’s idiosyncratic home run trot. Even though he was a big man, The Babe looked almost balletic when he ran (at least he did on the clips). Unlike players today who round the bases trying to keep elation to a minimum so as not get beaned in the head the next time up, Ruth often made quite the scene; waving, holding his fists high, and doing all manner of things to make the journey entertaining to himself, as well as to fans. We used this to spectacular effect in the show, playing it in fast-motion, for that is how we remember him from old film clips. I did the same with his facial tics, and constantly blinked and twitched, as well as mimicked his patented wink from the newsreels.

To see example of The Babe, click here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HkEX0eb2eBo

In the first-draft of the Johnny Baseball libretto, Ruth called people by name. Yet I read the real Ruth called everyone “kid.” At every opportunity, I asked to do the same, and so the text was adjusted. Even though Babe was by far the highest paid player in sports, the man was so generous, even to strangers, he was always broke. He would regularly pick up tabs for food and entertainment, as well as buy entire neighborhoods of kids ice creams. Asking management for salary advances was a regular occurrence. When staging, I tried to find places to have Babe freely doling out wads of cash. All of these researched facts and/or character traits, are “playable.” All can be communicated to an audience.

If you’re playing Janis Joplin, Franklin Roosevelt, Carol King or any other character who actually existed, you’re going to have to create a good imitation of his or her singing or speaking style, physical mannerisms and, of course, try and replicate their look. It’s far more difficult to play a real-life character that lived in the last century, particularly if he or she was in the media spotlight. The more the audience has seen of a character on film or TV, the closer an actor’s imitation must become. If playing the The King and I, other than costuming and makeup, character traits are “actor’s choice.” Yet in the film The Aviator, Cate Blanchet was forced to impersonate Katherine Hepburn, down to her confident stride across the golf green. Otherwise, we would reject her performance.

 

The original libretto of The Unsinkable Molly Brown is a rags-to-riches story; a straight-up Horatio Alger yarn of how mere “gumption” can take a girl from the gutter to wealth and notoriety. This might have played well in the 1960’s, but in today’s recessionary economy telling people just to “buck-up and marry a man who will soon become a millionaire” ain’t exactly a message that resonates. Mr. Scanlon, along with the help of director Kathleen Marshal (Grease, Pajama Game, Anything Goes), will attempt to change this storyline message. Other than from the musical or the movie Titanic, audiences today are not familiar with the real Molly or J.J. Brown, and so Beth Malone and I will have great leeway when creating these characters. 

Like with Captain Von Trapp, I’m guessing research will offer little in the way of help creating J.J. Brown for the stage. Most likely my J.J will be created entirely from my imagination. Contrary to original libretto, the real Mrs. Brown wasn’t raised in a shack, didn’t chew tobacco, cuss like a sailor or spit further than any boy in town. She didn’t work singing in saloon, and would certainly never be seen “bellying up to the bar.” Even her name is myth. Brown was never known as “Molly,” but instead went by “Margaret,” and on rare the occasion “Maggie.” The J.J. Brown in the original libretto also holds few common traits with the real man. Dick Scanlon hopes to make the rewrite closer to the real-life couple, but unless he throws out the entire libretto storyline, surely he will be keeping much of the fictional Molly and J.J. Let’s hope he doesn’t stick too close to the fact, because neither I nor Beth look anything like real Mr. & Mrs. Brown.

 

I’ve begun research by looking up what I can on the Net, as well as purchasing a copy of Molly Brown; Unraveling the Myth, by Kristen Iverson. Hers is a thoroughly researched and well-written effort. I’m about halfway through, but so far the only playable information I’ve found in the book or online is that J.J. Brown educated himself in the intricacies of mining technology. It might be interesting to give him a pair of delicate spectacles, and at least once catch him being the technological bookworm. This plays opposite to his scripted macho manner, and finding opposites can create compelling characterizations. But this is just one of the many acting “maybes.” Like most choices found early in the process, the idea can and most likely will be discarded before opening night, particularly if director Kathleen says, “No glasses.”

I’ve known many an actor who spent weeks researching a role, and later failed to incorporate that information into a portrayal. Like with Captain Von Trapp, what is found in research often plays directly against the libretto, and so a rule must be made: 

Text first, always, and research a far, far second!

The real Margret Brown would never have used words like “gol-durn,” but the fictional Molly certainly must. The real Mr. Brown might have said, “She’s too mean to sink,” but the J.J. in the libretto would never say, or believe such a thing to be true of his wife. Fact often gets in the way of fiction, and in the musical theater we must hold tight to the myth. On opening night, an actor can only play what’s in the libretto. The dialogue, dances, songs, as well as the actions and decisions a character makes in the storyline provide the vast wealth of any playable information. 

Musical performers don’t attempt to play reality. Real people don’t spontaneously break out into perfectly choreographed production numbers. That’s the difference between our medium and film. Musicals offer a glossy and fantastical view of life, not a realistic and visceral account like Daniel Day Lewis’ portrayal of Lincoln. Our medium creates life not as it truly is, but as we wish it to be: bright, colorful, highly emotional, often hilarious and sumptuously beautiful. These are the truths of the musical stage.

The bottom line is this: you can choose to befriend and follow around town two clean-cut missionaries donning name-tags, but those efforts are not mandatory to play Elder Price and Cunningham in Book of Mormon. You can read dozens of books about the opening of the American West in the 1800’s, but it might not aid in any way your portrayal of Laurie in Oklahoma! If you like to read, and particularly if you’re a history buff like me, you’ll find research fascinating and fun. Sometimes what is found in research can be crucial to creating character, but it’s not the norm and certainly not the rule.

You don’t have to research a libretto role, particularly if your character is fictional. Most research is busy work, and often there’ll be little time for study. Musical theater performers frequently book jobs back-to-back, and rehearsal is often mercilessly short. Instead of spending hours researching background of the character or his or her environment, study of the composer, lyricist and librettist often garners more interesting and pertinent information. Having played Harold Hill in The Music Man, I enter this gig with a wealth of knowledge about Meredith Wilson. As in the song Trouble, where often lyrics don’t rhyme, Mr. Wilson attempted to make singing more like real speech. He tries the same in some of the Molly songs. This is vital information for any performer attempting his work.

You can’t really understand our medium unless you’ve studied Oscar Hammerstein.

Musical actors can, and often must fabricate background stories to suit us, our characters and to support the scripted action. We are free to change any historical, environmental, mannerism or relationship fact to one of fiction, and can change stories at any point during the process. All that matters is what plays best for scene, character and script, and, most importantly, discovering choices our level of craft is able to play. At home or in rehearsal, actors often find seemingly perfect character and scene choices, but in the end find they don’t possess the craft to place those choices onstage. This is why developing and practicing acting-craft is so essential. Without craft, or with little of it, an actor’s talents, his or her unique creative process, become worthless. Thus is the reason I am forever practicing the lessons in my book.

Background research is often optional for libretto performance. In the theater, and particularly in musicals, we can create roles and off-stage storyline using only our imagination. We can just make it up! Most of my research is done at home, sitting by myself, dreaming about my part and experimenting with various ways to craft my dialogue.

Today, I don’t yet have the Molly script. All I can do is get back to Ms. Iverson’s book, search online about mining and Leadville Colorado, but this work isn’t mandatory. I just enjoy doing it.

If you’re doing the same, break a leg!

Burke


To continue click here: Part II - Reading the Script