Unplug the telephone, don't answer the door, just sit and read it through. At the end make notes or comments, very simple ones ... "Opening a bit boring." "Don't get the bit about the will." "Last bit very moving."
"I know every word of this text by heart" is a favorite director's boast, but it can restrict your imagination. It's the actor's job to remember his lines, not yours. Sometimes just guessing how a scene goes can make you think more freely.
Every good play has a basic "will she or won't she ...," an essential question about the central character(s) that keeps the audience interested, a question around which all the action revolves. Think of Shakespeare's Hamlet: Will the prince avenge his father's murder? Ibsen's A Doll's House: Will Nora keep her secret from Torvald?
That is, the consequences of something someone once did always come back to haunt the characters in the now of the play. These acts from the past permeate the story; they threaten the ordinary circumstances and values of the characters' lives, and they force choices to be made.
The audience witnesses each character's journey and vicariously goes along with them: "I agree with that." "What did he do that for?" "Now that was an interesting thing to do; I never would have thought of such a clever tactic."
Towards the end of the play, as the audience anticipates an impending collision or miracle coming, they won't care about what happens nearly as much as they'll care about how the characters react to what happens. Again, the emotional journey is more important than the destination.
In all the best material, the outcome is inevitable and inherent in the opening moment and in every moment in between. From the audience's perspective, this can only be understood and appreciated backwards, after the play has run its course. The audience, if they choose, will see every element was essential; every moment from the first to the last contributed to the final resolution or explosion.
This fully cohesive quality is easy to describe but hard to create. Nevertheless, it is critical for the director to identify the unifying structure of the play to which every subordinate element contributes.
It does sometimes happen that decoration will salvage a weak play, but we are concerned with strong plays, and the audience has come to the theatre to believe, to respond to the magical words, "Once upon a time ...," not to admire a laser show.
For example, Julie Taymor's designs for the musical The Lion King offered the audience the choice to look at each actor's face or at the face of the puppet character each actor was operating. This allowed the audience to imaginatively invent the illusion moment by moment along with the performers and was far more artful than putting humans in animal suits. That would have been a clear example of connecting too many dots.
Play against the obvious, but don't cheat. That is, don't rig the evidence so that when the climax comes, the audience feels, "Well, I didn't expect that, and, what's more, the way they told the story, I don't believe it."
With both the authority and the responsibility to stage the play well, you will inevitably have to make some unpopular decisions. Accept the grumbling. Be strong and calm in the face of opposition. Realize that normal conversation includes a good portion of complaint.
Nobody dies if things go wrong; millions of dollars are not lost (you should be so lucky to have the chance). Children do not starve as a result of a bad rehearsal, performance, or review. Be passionate, sure, but know when not to take yourself too seriously.
When you need a favor or have a request that is perhaps beyond someone's ordinary responsibilities or inclinations, you can cool your ardor and enormously increase your effectiveness by adding, "I'll understand completely if it's not something you're able to do right now."
And guard against the second great vice, the idiot fill-in phrases: "You know," "I mean," "Sort of ...," "Kind of ...," "Er, er, um ..." These are bad enough in ordinary conversation; coming from someone who may be giving instructions for up to three hours a day, they can be a justification for homicide.
Yes, there is a component of ego reward involved in directing, but it is a built-in perk; no need to seek it out. Instead, serve the play by serving others, particularly the playwright, the actors, and the audience. Ask yourself: What do I have to give to this play? What right do I have to take this audience's time and money? What am I giving to this audience that makes their investment in this work worthwhile to them?
Actors and others will follow you even if they disagree with your direction. But they will not follow if you are afraid to lead. A clear, confident presence and strong direction are highly reassuring to everyone.
Director Ron Eyre once said that when you place someone in a role, you are plugging in to his or her entire "life stream." As in a marriage, you are taking responsibility for living with that person's unique constellation of virtues and vices. Certain doors will be open, others will be tightly closed, and still other doors may open with a slight nudge.
Learn as much as you can about what you're getting yourself into. In addition to an audition, inquire of others about the person. Is she polite, professional, and responsive? Speak with her. Study the rsum carefully: Has this person done roles like this before? This size? This style? This level? Take the time to find the answers. Yes, you might still get fooled from time to time, but that's hardly a reason to neglect your due diligence.
Why is this? A walking, talking character is quite different from a trained, professional actor. A true professional will grow into a role, analyze the script and develop insights, anticipate and deal with problems, create the required illusion, and develop a relationship with the other characters and the audience that no amount of "typing" can easily achieve. In short, a pro will know what to do. And it frees you from the onerous task of nursing one actor's performance at the cost of neglect to the others. That would be sure to sow resentment.
When auditioning, actors know they are being looked at, listened to, evaluated, and judged. Their livelihood and self-image may hang in the balance. Everything you do or say as the auditor can have enormous emotional impact, so put actors at ease by letting them know you know what you're doing.
Your job in auditions is to observe and evaluate. Have the actor read with or to someone or something other than you: the wall, the chair, the production assistant, or the reader you brought in precisely for this purpose.
Go for intensity. Persuade the opening actors to commit themselves, to give it a full go, even if it means stopping and starting again. Reassure them that the others aren't snickering if they overshoot. They're thinking: How brave! Damn good for her for giving it a try!
You can launch your ideas at them while the play is still fresh in their minds and they are no longer scared of the ordeal. Get as many actors as possible to talk about it, but beware the know-all who has evolved obscure and elaborate theories about the Inner Meaning, spreading confusion and dismay.
Good questions to ask early on: Where are they? Who is related to whom? How do people feel about each other? What time of year is it? Of day? How old are they? What dialect or accent might they have? Why does he enter the room? Why does she depart? Who's chasing whom?
Begin making distinctions: Is that action big or little? Is that intention nice or nasty? Big nice or little nice? Big nasty or little nasty? (See 55. Ask: Is it nice or nasty? Big or little?) Also, analyze the playwright's intention notes (e.g. "he relaxes," or, an old favourite, "joking but not joking").
provocative...witty...refreshing. The authors are erudite but never pretentious; their shared point of view is supremely humane; their prose has a lucidity, even elegance, that is unknown among contemporary American how-to books.
The most sensible and practical work on directing on the bookshelf. One cannot help but ask, 'Why didn't I think of that?' or 'Where was this book when I started my career?' This book has such wonderful insights it will benefit anyone interested in directing or play going in general. Summing up:Essential."
In the late 1980s, Hauser, former director of the Oxford Playhouse, Oxford, U.K., gave his original "notes on directing" to then-apprentice Reich, now a writer and creative director. This volume collects Hauser's wisdom and experience and is supplemented by Reich's observations of Hauser at work. Sprinkled throughout are highly useful bits of advice from some of the greatest playwrights, directors, and actors of the 20th century, including Alec Guiness, Richard Burton, and Kevin Spacey. The result is a thoroughly enjoyable and thought-provoking look at the directing process "intended to be used not simply as a `how to,' but as a tool." Read straight through, it roughly follows the rehearsal process, "addressing a director's concerns in the general order they are likely to arise." The notes are numbered, and some provide cross references, allowing the reader to pursue a theme from point to point within the process. An index provides references to specific concerns, and appendixes include exercises for actors and an annotated list of suggested readings. Equally insightful for directors and actors, whether experienced or novice, this slim volume is essential for all performing arts/theater collections-and it's endorsed by Dame Judi Dench and Sir Ian McKellen.-Laura A. Ewald, Murray State Univ. Lib., KY Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
Whether you want to direct in a community theatre setting or be the next hit Broadway director, every directing student must have a strong educational foundation. While learning from experience is always beneficial, there is nothing wrong with taking direction (no pun intended!) from the directing pros. Here are the top five directing books that every directing student should read at least once in their life!
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