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

KNOW the Straight Man

The lesser known part of the comic team, and a skill every musical performer MUST know…

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Why You Didn’t Get Cast

Here’s an excellent article on the casting process I found here: http://bittergertrude.com/2014/05/21/why-you-didnt-get-cast/

WHY YOU DIDN’T GET CAST

Buster Keaton and Donald O’Connor rehearsing in 1956

A few days ago, I had two conversations almost back-to-back. One was with an experienced and talented actor who believed they were getting the message that their career was over just because they were in a dry spell. The other was with yet another Bay Area actor whose career had stalled the minute they went AEA. While we talked about the many reasons why that happens, this actor said to me, “I want to see if I’m good enough to be an AEA actor.” And my heart just broke because, as someone whose life is always on the other side of the table, I know how seldom casting is purely about who’s “good.” I hate that experienced, talented actors can see whether or not they get cast as a measure of their intrinsic worth as actors.

So here you go, actors of the world. The pure, unvarnished truth about why you didn’t get the role.

Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant, and Jimmy Stewart performing Philadelphia Story for Victory Theater, 1942.

1. MOST COMMON: You’re just not right for it. I know this sounds like a massive, shit-eating cliche, but it’s absolutely the truth. A director walks into the room with a character conceptualized in a certain way, and is looking for the person whose type or energy matches the character. The truly amazingly badass Leslie Martinson of TheatreWorks taught me this years ago, when I was first starting out: Every conceptualized character has thirteen adjectives that describe them. Every actor has thirteen adjectives that describe them. Casting is about finding the best match. I pass over actors I flat-out adore all the time because the fit isn’t right. For example, a director might have Orlando conceptualized as a man in his 20s with a gentle, soft-spoken energy, while your audition presents a man in his 30s with a bright, aggressive energy. While your audition might be fantastic, you’re not going to be that director’s Orlando.

2. Your skill set isn’t developed. [In other words, you haven’t developed your CRAFT!]This is the second most common, and the one people like to think of as “not good enough.” That way of thinking is total bullshit. How do I know? Because year after year, I see actors grow and develop. I see actors go from maaaaybe having the skills to handle a small supporting role to being ready to carry a play in one season. Either they took a class that unlocked something, or worked with a director who stretched them, or went on a spiritual quest in the New Mexico desert, or had mind-blowing sex with Ian McKellen, whatever. But I see it happen all the time, because dedicated actors are constantly working on their skillset.

Judi Dench, Ian McKellen, and Joe Melia rehearsing Too True to be Good at the RSC in 1975.

3. The role was precast. Some directors are superstitious and will read people for roles that are already cast. It’s unfortunately common for actors to commit to roles that they later bail on (a better-paying gig, a family emergency, a medical situation), and if you auditioned other actors for that role, you have some go-to options. One casting director told me she was so superstitious that she didn’t get rid of the casting data for a show until it CLOSED. On the flip side, lots of theatres are upfront about which roles are precast. Don’t let that necessarily discourage you. You may want to consider coming in for a show where your dream role is precast– you may end up playing that role after all.

Claudia McNeil in A Raisin in the Sun, 1959

4. The role went to someone they’ve worked with before. This is incredibly common. You know an actor’s work, you have a shared language, you understand how to work together. A known quantity is less of a risk, even if the known quantity didn’t crush the callback like you did. The director knows from past experience that the other actor can give them what the work needs.

5. You’ve had a history of behaving unprofessionally. Luckily, this one is extremely rare, but it does occasionally happen. Violating your contract (coming consistently late or no-showing to rehearsals or shows, for example), treating fellow actors or crew disrespectfully, making unreasonable demands (such as demanding the theatre violate their contract with the playwright so you can change something in the script despite the fact that the playwright declined to allow the change, or demanding the day off during tech because it’s your one year dating anniversary), deciding closing night is the time for GAGS! and IMPROV!, badmouthing the show on social media (“This play is going to be total shit!”). Although I’ve seen every one of these examples firsthand, they are, as I’ve said, pretty rare. The converse, happily, is MUCH more likely to be true– that we take a chance on an actor unknown to us because someone at another theatre is raving about how awesome they are. And believe me, I’m not trying to imply that this doesn’t happen in the opposite direction. I know plenty of directors treat actors in unconscionable ways. But that’s an entirely different blog post. My point is that, in any theatre community, companies share personnel. While we don’t necessarily go out of our way to share that kind of information, the Literary Manager at one theatre is directing a show at another theatre. The actor at one theatre is the Artistic Director at another theatre. What happens in Vegas, so to speak, does not stay in Vegas. But be happy that the converse is also true and much, much more common– we’re raving about how wonderful you are to our friends at other companies. I’ve sent many a “heads up” email to directors to let them know that an actor new to them and about to audition for them is someone I’ve worked with and believe in.

6. Conflicts. You may have been the best person for the role, but since you’re planning to be in Oklahoma for Baton Twirling Nationals during tech, they’re going to go with someone else.

7. You tanked the audition. Oh, man, this one is a heartbreaker, and I see it all the time. It’s one of the reasons I tell my students that the best way to cast is to see as many plays as possible so you’re seeing actors in their natural habitat. Auditions are weird little creatures, artificial and forced. However, if we want to open our theatres to new people and new communities (and we do), we’re stuck with open auditions. Like standardized testing, which only measures how good you are at standardized tests, auditions often measure how well you audition and little else. While callbacks are theoretically meant to correct for that, you don’t always make it to the callback to show them. I’ve seen plenty of actors give me a crap audition and then give a beautiful performance in someone else’s play. They had a bad day, or memorized a new monologue they thought would be “better” for the role the day before, or were too nervous. 

There are a million reasons why a great actor would tank an audition. Don’t let it discourage you. Take an audition class or work with a coach if this is a common problem for you. Do what you need to do. But KEEP TRYING. Invite artistic directors and casting directors to see your work. Don’t give up! You won’t tank them all.

And that’s my main piece of advice: Don’t give up. If this is your dream, persevere! Nothing is insurmountable. FALL DOWN SEVEN TIMES, GET UP EIGHT.

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KNOW the Interview

KNOW the Interview

Whether leading or supporting player, or even if you’re a ensemble member, over the years of your career almost surely you will be asked to talk to the press. Like acting, being interviewed is a craft, requiring both guessing and KNOWING how to respond to questions. The key to interviews is to ALWAYS have an answer to the following (insert your own name)…

“So, Burke Moses?”

Yes, I realize that is not a real question, but you’d amazed how often it will be asked in one form or another. Most newspaper, radio and television journalists are incredibly lazy. Local theater-beat journalists are not exactly Jon Stewart when it comes to interview preparation. Often, they have set list of questions, and rarely deviate from it. Most journalists make the performer do the work, and frequently ask what can only be called, “non-questions.”

“So, “Guys and Dolls,” eh?”

“So, MUNY Opera, huh?”

Long before the interview, it is imperative you have a couple of answers to innocuous queries.  All three non-questions above can be answered the same.

YOU: Hi, thank you so much for having me here! I’m thrilled to be working at (name of theater), and ecstatic about playing (name of role) in (name of show)! I think audiences are going to LOVE IT!

Interviewers almost always have a history with the theater, and it is not always a good one. Many out-of-town interviewers will also critique the show come opening night. Yes, this is conflict of interests, and sometimes the interviewer/critic has declared open war on the theater, or have prejudices against the show.

“What’s it like being in the worst best musical of all-time?”

 That was the first question asked by an interviewer when I was playing Trevor Greydon in Thoroughly Modern Millie. After winning the Tony award for “best musical,” the satirical review Forbidden Broadway did a skit calling the production "the worst show ever to be named ‘best musical.’” Obviously, the interviewer was using this quote as his “angle” for the story. This is a hand-grenade question; a negative query mean to “stir up” the interview. It wasn’t hard to guess the upcoming review (“Millie,” the worst musical is not so bad (or good)!”) The easiest way to avoid a negative question is to completely ignore it.

“What’s it like being in the worst best musical of all-time?”

YOU: Hi, thank you so much for having me here! I’m thrilled to be working at (name of theater), and ecstatic about playing (name of role) in (name of show)! I think audiences are going to LOVE IT!

            If the interviewer is belligerent, he or she might repeat that question. Again, just ignore it (“I don’t know about that, but…”), and then launch into an anecdote. The key to interviews is to KEEP CONTROL of the process, particularly when the Q&A goes where you don’t wish it to go. Prior to any interview, it is essential to have several stories in your back pocket. These can be about the role, the audition, the rehearsal process, performance, the theater or any interesting story from your show business past, or up-bringing. If the interviewer hasn’t done any homework (frequently the case), try and guide the questions toward your anecdotes, or ignore the question and just tell the story. If there is no escaping a negative question, say nothing, smile, and just shrug as if you have no clue to the answer. Never answer a question that might get you into trouble with the theater, creative team or cast of the show. 

            Approaches for Different Mediums

1.) The single-camera TV interview is looking for “sound-bites;” short, concise answers.  Often, they won’t use a reverse shot of the interviewer. Often they need the interviewee to repeat the question. and this takes a bit of practice to make it sound organic.

“Are you enjoying your stay in (name of city)?”

YOU: I’m loving my time in (name of city)! On the day off we visited…

2.) In a live (or taped) studio interview, you’ll be on set with two or three cameras standing before you. DON’T fidget! Just find an easy sitting or standing position, fold hands in lap or try to appear relaxed. If possible, ask what questions will be asked (often they will tell you prior.) This gives you extra time to prepare. In live (or taped) television, preparation is key. DEFINITELY have prepared anecdotes and quips. Work hard on your ad-libs, even though you might not get a chance to use them.

3.) In taped radio interviews the journalist holds a recorder. Again, you’ll need to repeat his or her question during the answer. Like the one-camera interview, they don’t want to add the question in editing.

“So, what’s it like playing Maria in “The Sound of Music?”

YOU: Maria in “The Sound of Music” is such a wonderful role, because…

4.) In live radio, you’ll be in the studio wearing headphones, and sitting close to the host. You still must look presentable, because frequently someone will take a photo and use it on the website. Although they seek more than “sound-bites,” don’t expand too much on your answers. Brevity is the key, yet don’t be too short with your answers.  Don’t answer a question with only a “yes” or “no.”

5.) “The Phoner” is an interview where either you call, or the interviewer calls you at home. Here, looks don’t count. You can talk wearing only skivvies. Other than having anecdotes to tell, no other preparation is required. Here, you can expound on answers, yet still try and keep answers brief.

6.) In the “Email Interview” you will be sent questions.  Before sending back responses, definitely use spell and grammar check. If you do not have a flair for writing, ALWAYS have someone check your answers, and even help you with writing.

A few Interview Do’s and DON’TS

-DON’T get into argument with the interviewer.

1   -No matter how true it might be, never, EVER say anything negative about the theater, the town where it’s located, the producing or creative team, the show or fellow cast mates. Those who forget this rule always regret it. Everything about your show and the venue is “WONDERFUL!" 

2   -Although there will be many times you’ll have to answer extempore, NEVER come to the interview empty-handed. Always have prepared stories to tell.

3   - Look presentable. Check the mirror. Make sure no bats are hiding in the cave (things up your nose), and no bra-straps are showing.

4   - Although it’s sometimes difficult, SMILE! Try and have fun, even if the interviewer is attacking you. In performance or when giving an interview, joy radiates! Other than talking seriously about a serious role, take nothing too seriously. It’s theater not world peace.

     - BE CONCISE! Don’t ramble on. Interviews are not opportunities for you to give seminars or lectures. Remember, the more you talk, the greater chance you might accidentally say something idiotic.

-If you have multiple interviews for the same show, DON’T always tell the same anecdote (all your press will be the same).  This is why to have several personal stories rather than just one or two.

-When in doubt, PAUSE before speaking. Some questions are difficult to answer, and knee-jerk responses are not always the best.

-If you flub an answer, garble or slur words, just start over.  It happens, don’t worry about it.

6   - Starting now, make purposeful effort to remove the word “like” from your everyday vernacular. On camera or recording, performers that say “like” five times on every answer come off as inarticulate and sophomoric. We are actors. Language is our medium. Make conscious effort to speak well, and be able to do so on cue, at any moment.

7  - Practice reading aloud ten minutes everyday! Not only will this make you a better actor, but reading aloud will help you speak concisely, as well as use complete sentences during interviews, or when making any public appearance. Again, we’re actors. Talking is our business, so make public speaking excellence a priority.

- When meeting the interviewer, ask THEM questions before starting (Where are you from? How long have you been writing, or doing television/radio work? I like that dress, Etc). People adore being asked questions, and love those curious about their mundane lives. It’s good to start the process off with interviewer that likes you. Otherwise, you’ll be fine if you’re always prepared to answer the question that so frequently stymies performers in interviews.

“So, Burke Moses?”

Have an immediate, interesting, humorous and/or compelling answer to that non-question, and you’ll have no problem during any interview process.

Break a leg!

-Burke

Trick #3 - KNOW Gesture (Excerpt from Stanislavski Never Wore Tap Shoes)

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