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