Tag Archives: rehearsal

The Waiting Game

wanderer

Peaks and troughs. Highs and lows. The acting profession has always been one of extremes. An actor friend of mine told me she’d been drawn to the job because she was ‘an adrenaline junkie’, and I think most of us can relate to that. There’s no thrill to beat a first night – that intoxicating mix of fear and excitement – to show you that you’re truly alive.

As for the highs, an actor’s life is peppered with many moments of joy, big or small, the best of all usually being the phone call from your agent to tell you you’ve got the job. Way back at the start, I will never forget the call that told me I had won a place at LAMDA. And then there’s the thrill of a happy discovery in rehearsal, a perfect show or just the pure exhilaration that comes from playing with other actors.

telephone

In terms of lows, they tend to come from the frustration of not acting. We are all familiar with the agony of unemployment, feeling you have so much to offer and yet not being allowed to join in the game. But there is another, smaller agony, that can sometimes feel even sharper – namely that difficult post-audition period, when you just don’t know if you’ve got the job or not.

This is a period of the purest torture, particularly if you really want the job, and it begins the moment you leave the audition room. Of course, you’re supposed to brush it off immediately, as you trip off to a stylish downtown bar to resume your dizzying social life with not so much as a backwards glance, but it’s not always that easy. It’s rather more usual to begin the Great Calculation. Let’s say you audition on a Tuesday afternoon. You stagger onto the tube afterwards, your head spinning as you replay the details of the meeting. Did you seem interested enough as the director spelt out their vision for the production? How well did you play the scene? How about that one pivotal line – did you hit it just right? And did you manage to leave the room without shoving your foot in your gob, by saying ‘See you soon’, ‘Thanks you’ or ‘Lots of love’? Hopefully, you’ll feel you did the best you could. If so, you can actually relax for a bit now, and maybe enjoy one or two of those glamorous cocktails with your glamorous friends, for one night at least.

cocktails

But the next morning, the beast awakens. Hmm, Wednesday morning, you think. Well, I probably won’t hear anything today, as they’ll still be meeting people. Unless, of course, they really loved me, and want to snap me up as quickly as possible… But Wednesday drifts past, and you don’t worry too much – this is still the phoney war, after all. Shrödinger‘s Acting Job, both alive and dead at the same time.

The next day dawns and your thinking is beginning to change: Thursday, Thursday… they’ve probably finished auditions by now, so they’ll be starting to make decisions. This is where the clock/iPhone watching begins in earnest. Haven’t heard by lunchtime? That’s fine, it’ll probably be this afternoon. An hour’s grace for lunch between 1.00pm and 2.00pm, when you can actually focus on something else for a bit, then it starts again. 5.00pm approaches, 5.30… Well, maybe tomorrow. By this point, you’re starting to entertain the idea that it might not go your way, telling yourself that if you don’t hear on Friday, well then that’s it, you haven’t got it. And sure enough, Friday comes and goes and the phone doesn’t ring.

But then there’s Monday. Maybe they decided to take the weekend to make up their minds…

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It can be absolute agony. Inevitably, some jobs are worse than others, i.e. the ones you really want. And the torture is amplified if it goes to recalls or beyond. I was recently working with two actors, both of whom were in the middle of this situation, and both of whom were throughly miserable about it. One of them said that he felt it was actually making him ill.

There’s nothing to be done, of course. It is simply one of those things about the profession. You leave the room, and you’ve done all you can. They can take as long as they want to make their decisions, and that’s that. All the hours spent speculating about what they must be thinking, attempting to read the runes or to gain some sort of insight into a director’s thought processes is a waste of time. There are many areas of our business in which change is really overdue, but opening up the decision making process is not one.

danny lee wynter

The only thing that can be done is to let every actor know how their audition went, and happily this is an idea that is really starting to gain traction, thanks in great part to the #YesOrNo initiative, spearheaded by the actor Danny Lee Wynter, which is asking for all actors who audition for a role to be told whether or not they have got the job. It has always been one of the most brutal aspects of the profession, the idea that an actor can put their all into preparing for a casting, but once they leave the room, they simply never hear a peep about it again. The #YesOrNo campaign addresses this head-on, and recently received a major boost when both the National Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company committed to giving every actor who auditions for them at least a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer:

rsc tweet yes or no

And gradually, many other theatre companies and casting directors are jumping aboard too.

It might not completely eradicate the post-audition collywobbles, but at least it ensures that an end is in sight.

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Interview With The Director: Paul Miller – part one

Paul Miller Photo Mark Douet

Paul Miller was appointed Artistic Director of London’s Orange Tree Theatre in June 2014, as successor to founder Sam Walters. His first season has been tremendously varied and successful, with plays such as ‘The Distance’ by Deborah Bruce, George Bernard Shaw’s ‘Widowers’ Houses’ and ‘The Widowing of Mrs Holroyd’ by D H Lawrence garnering four-star-reviews and sold-out performances. The extraordinary ‘Pomona’ by Alastair McDowell recently won five Offies at the Off West End Awards, including Best New Play and Best Director (Ned Bennett), and will transfer to the National Theatre’s Temporary Theatre in September, followed by a run at the Royal Exchange Theatre in October. Paul Miller won Best Artistic Director at the Off West End Awards.

Paul was an Associate Director at Sheffield Crucible from 2009 to 2014, where his productions included ‘The Winter’s Tale’, ‘Democracy’ by Michael Frayn (which transferred to the Old Vic), and ‘Hamlet’ with John Simm.
For the National Theatre he has directed, amongst others, ‘The History Boys’ by Alan Bennett (a revival for the West End and UK tour), ‘Baby Girl’ by Roy Williams, ‘DNA’ by Dennis Kelly. He was Associate Artist at the Bush Theatre from 2005 – 2008.

When we met, Paul’s production of ‘Each His Own Wilderness’ by Doris Lessing was playing at the Orange Tree. Lessing’s powerful play is set in 1958, and sees Tony (Joel MacCormack), back from National Service disillusioned and dissatisfied, and clashing with his political activist mother Myra (Clare Holman).

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CN Coming to see your show was very interesting, seeing somebody at the very beginning of their career and a number of actors who are quite established– from a director’s point of view, what difference do you notice between a young actor and a very established one – in terms of the way they approach rehearsals, for example?

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PM Well it’s interesting, because there is a well-observed comedic thing that can happen, where the young actors arrive half an hour before rehearsals and do their warm-up and vocal exercise and they’re studiously attacking their parts, and the older, more senior actors appear to roll up without a warm-up, appear to be giving it less application. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking in a banal way that, ‘Oh, people get lazy as they get older’. In fact what I think happens is something much more interesting: the more you apply yourself when young, something happens, almost at a physical level, which means that, a bit like a dancer, you begin to do certain things, not exactly automatically but without having to consciously press that button –

CN – Like a runner might have a very developed muscle that is specific to the task –

PM Exactly. So the older actors who roll in going, ‘Oh, I don’t know why you’re bothering with all that’, making a joke of it all, are often concealing the fact – or indeed are unaware themselves – of what they can deploy, and it’s only in them because they were like that once.

Helen Baxendale The Distance rehearsal c Helen Warner

CN So in a show like this one, where there’s a tension between young and old anyway – that’s the point of the play, in many ways – you must find that in rehearsal too?

PM All the time. It’s very relatively unusual to find oneself in a rehearsal room with a group of people who all of similar age. That’s one of the attractive things about our business, that we routinely work with a lot of people of different backgrounds and ages – that’s not always true in the more ordinary world of work. But that is part of the job of directing: to create a room that will contain, without over-controlling, a lot of people with different approaches. I’ve noticed that some young actors come out of three years where they’ve spent all the time with people of their own age and at their own stage of development, and it can be disconcerting to find yourself in a rehearsal room where you’re doing your thing and other people appear to not be doing your thing. There can be some heavy duty grinding of gears as people have to try and work out how to work with an actor who’s a bit older than them, and who isn’t so actively engaged with the process.

Pomona

CN And similarly in the opposite direction, I’ve been in rehearsals where older actors have become quite frustrated with younger ones applying a method very deliberately, and which sometimes gets in the way of the work. But then that’s the director’s job isn’t it?

PM Yes, that is part of the director’s job, to hold that all together – hopefully in a creative tension, rather than simply a sort of deadlock.

CN So you have to find a different language to speak to each actor?

PM Yes, I think so, or help people to understand each other.

Ellie Piercy The Widowing of Mrs Holroyd photo Mark Douet

CN Do you try and get them to speak your language?

PM Well, I think some directors tackle this aspect of things by forcefully introducing a whole new dimension, which is them, their method, so the rehearsal room becomes about their artistic personality. That can solve the problem because both the young actor with his industrious process and the older actor with apparently no process at all are subsumed into this whole new thing. That’s not my thing, or at least I don’t feel that’s what I do. I think I tend to find myself doing plays where actually one wants to find the difference in people and somehow hold them together.

john dexter photo louis melancon

CN There’s the great John Dexter tradition that we all fear as actors – walking into the room and finding the despot, with the suggestion that often the director will isolate the weakest… There are many bad stories about directors that actors share. And I wonder where that comes from?

PM I wonder. Of course one of the weirdnesses about being a director is that, after a certain point in your working life, you have no idea what goes on really in anybody else’s rehearsal room, except by hearsay. So one can easily have a distorted impression of what’s going on out there, but I feel as if that John Dexter stuff has largely gone away – I think the culture doesn’t permit that stuff any more. I think that out-and-out, ‘Why are you f***ing doing that? You’re a hopeless actor!’ – I feel like that’s gone, and perhaps been replaced by more subtle problems.
I feel that, by and large, it’s a much more democratic process. If there are problems with a younger generation individually, it might not come from being tyrants in the old model, but maybe people going, ‘You’re not obeying the rules! My method’s not being followed and therefore it’s all wrong.’

CN It’s quite a different experience to an actor going from one rehearsal room to another, one director to another. You’re in isolation in your career – you don’t have the influences that actors have on your working method, so you have to develop your own. I suppose a lot of your method comes from people you assisted at the start of your career?

PM Yes, I think inevitably you see how a rehearsal room works from those people – or doesn’t work. I think a great danger is if you assist people you find very compelling when you’re at a formative stage, you try to work out who you are by imitating them, and that can be a rather an unhappy period to go though.

Patrick Drury as Sartorius with Simon Gregor as Lickcheese in Widowers' Houses

CN You didn’t act at all?

PM At school, but not in any way professionally.

CN But you didn’t feel the bite – you weren’t torn in two directions?

PM No. Somehow or other, I decided I wanted to direct at 17, which is probably unhealthily early…

CN A lot of actors give up and become directors, and a lot of them keep the two strands going at the same time; do you feel it’s useful?

PM Actors who direct?

CN Or for directors to have some experience at acting – or do you think it’s a very different discipline?

PM Well, one of the benefits to being an actor who then turns to directing after a certain amount of time is that, unlike my experience, they will have had years in a lot of different directors’ rehearsal rooms, and so have perspective on what directing can be. I’m often amused at how relatively unsentimental actors-turned-directors are about actors. They can often be the hardest taskmasters, in my experience.

CN When I spoke to Joe Harmston about this – he has never acted – he thinks it hinders actor-directors because they don’t have sympathy; if they can see how to do it, they can’t understand why another actor can’t.

PM I’m sure that’s possible, though someone like Daniel Evans has taken to directing brilliantly and is still acting – I don’t feel he has fallen into that trap. If you’re really good at it you don’t.

daniel evans

CN Do you remember performances that made you think, ‘Oh wow, I want to make that happen’ – specific actors?

PM I tell you a performance that really did always stick with me – I was lucky enough to be at the University of Ulster at Coleraine when Yvonne Bryceland came – the great South African actress who, with her husband Brian Astbury, had run a theatre in South Africa.

yvonne bryceland

She was a long-term collaborator with Athol Fugard, and she recreated a production of a play called ‘People Are Living There’ by Fugard. She played a woman running a shabby boarding house on the night of her 50th birthday, and – typical Fugard – the play had a very simple action to it, and revolved around one moment: she had this speech about turning 50, just as the clock was striking midnight, and her unhappiness and disappointment in life, this terrible boyfriend that we never see; remembering herself as a little girl and saying, ‘There were promises, there were promises’. It was highly realistic acting, yet also with a kind of magnetism and a sense of emotional size to it. I can still see and hear her, and I thought she was a remarkable creature.

CN Are there actors you would like to work with that you see on the stage today?

Penelope Wilton

PM I think Penelope Wilton has a lot of what I described about Yvonne Bryceland actually – everything always truthful and drawn from life, and yet with this sense of an enormous emotional landscape behind it. It would be wonderful to work with someone like that.

Coming in Part Two, Paul talks casting, London and Artistic Director’s Guilt…

Interview With The Director… Joe Harmston – part 1

joe h

Joe Harmston is a British theatre director, whose career spans nearly twenty years.
Highlights of his career have been the world premiere of ‘King James’ Ear’, ‘The Lover’ and ‘The Collection’, which he directed at The Donmar Warehouse starring their writer, Harold Pinter.

With Bill Kenwright he created the hugely successful Agatha Christie Theatre Company, while at the other end of the spectrum he continues to champion new writing projects on the fringe.
In spring 2012 he commissioned and directed a landmark re-interpretation of Strindberg’s ‘The Father’ at the Belgrade in Coventry, where he is Associate Creative Director, and for which he was nominated for Best Director in the 2012 TMA Awards.


hay fever

I first worked with Joe on a tour of Noel Coward’s ‘Hay Fever’ for Bill Kenwright, starring Stephanie Beacham and Christopher Timothy.

Chris Naylor: The acting business has changed a lot since I started 16 years ago – in those days when I got an audition, my agent would tell me about who was directing it and what they’d done, but it wasn’t as easy to research people – I’m not sure Google existed in 1998. But when you meet an actor for an audition now, what do you expect of them?

Joe Harmston: Well, not a lot, actually. I think the most I expect of them is that they have read the play, understood it and have some sense of who I am – not in a terribly grand way, but occasionally you have a meeting and an actor will say to you, ‘sorry, who are you, what have you done?’ and that’s not really the best way to make friends and influence people. But personally I’m not interested in a great deal of preparation on the part of the actor, because what I want to do is see if I like them as a person.

CN: So you see it as a microcosm of the rehearsal room?

JH: Yeah, I’m trying to find a group of people who I think are going to get on well in rehearsal, and therefore be creative together. So I guess what I’m looking for is people who are going to ask themselves the right sort of questions about the play and are going to be engaged and interested. For example, I don’t want people to come into an audition having decided on a performance.

CN: So, off-book, for example – you’d never want that?

JH: I’m impressed by it but it doesn’t make any difference to me. Sometimes people come in off-book, but actually they’re not really off-book –

CN: – and then they throw themselves.

JH: I mean, I’m working on the basis that actors can learn lines – that’s not always right, of course – but essentially that’s not a skill I expect an actor to feel they need to prove to me. What I do want them to prove is that they can have ideas about the play and the part, and that they can also respond to my ideas. So even if somebody comes and does something beautifully, I will always say, ‘Well that’s lovely – let’s try that again, but perhaps we could do this’, even if the things I’m suggesting are not things I actually would suggest. Sometimes you ask them to do something slightly different, and they do exactly the same and you think, ‘Oh, I see, that’s all I’m ever going to get from them.’

CN: Are you surprised by that lack of flexibility?

JH: Yes, endlessly. I’m also endlessly surprised – especially with young actors – with how voluble they can be about the play and the performance, and then be unspeakably awful. So sometimes you spend five minutes having a chat beforehand and you think, ‘Wow! You’re going to be stunning!’ and then they do it and you think, ‘Did you just get up and leave the room and somebody else came and took your place?’

CN: So they can talk the talk?

JH: Yeah.

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CN: I can remember meeting Guy Retallack for my first ever theatre job. It was ‘Dangerous Corner’ at the Watermill, and I had a brilliant time – and I was talking to the actor who had sat in at the audition who told me that one of the reasons I got it was that Guy had asked me to make a particular choice about the character, and I said, ‘No, I think that’s the sort of thing I would leave for the rehearsal room’! For some reason that made him think, ‘This person is interesting’! Would you have cast me?

JH: I would have done as well, yeah, I would be interested in somebody who’s showing that they had ideas. I don’t want an actor who’s just going to do what I tell them to do. I think good directing is knowing what are the right questions to ask, and you‘re stupid if you think you’ve got all the answers.

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CN: I imagine one of the key things about directing is that you need to be able to adjust your method to each particular actor?

JH: I always think that at the beginning in the rehearsal room, you’ve got 12 people who all speak different languages, and your job is to speak to them in their own language. The process of rehearsal is about creating a shared language so that at the end you’ve got everybody speaking the same language. The first part is always very difficult because you’re speaking Russian and German and Flemish, and sometimes you forget which language you need to speak to someone in.
I remember doing a play where one of the actors I’d worked with a lot – we’d known each other for a decade – and I gave him a really brutal note, it was something like, ‘Don’t do it like that, Simon – your character’s supposed to be dull and ineffectual, not dead, you stupid c***’. And Simon just went, ‘Oh yeah, sorry, sorry’, but everybody else looked at me in absolute horror. That was absolutely the language that I needed to speak to Simon in at that moment because of all of our shared history, but it was sort of inappropriate that I allowed other people to hear it. Actually by the end of it, I could speak to everybody like that, but at that stage there were many other people where I needed to be saying, ‘Darling, I love what you’re doing, that’s a terrific idea – I tell you what, let’s just try something completely different,’ which actually means, ‘Please don’t ever do that again.’

 

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CN: I can remember when we worked together there was an actress who was cleaving very closely to a method at the time…

 

JH: Yes, it was that book by Declan Donellan. It was so fascinating because when she began, instinctively she was just perfect for the part, but then it started getting odder and odder and odder and more disjointed, and we all realised she had this notebook. The method that she was slavishly adhering to was more and more of a block, because it became not about instinctively responding to the actors in the room with her, but about doing this thing – I mean, it was very odd…

CN: Particularly for a very light text like ‘Hay Fever’.

JH: Yes. I seem to recall we actually got her to burn her notebook – we had a sacrificial burning of it. It wasn’t that actually the work wasn’t useful, but it was all just about that, rather than what else was happening. She couldn’t be in the moment.

mamet

CN: I can remember when I was at LAMDA, David Mamet’s ‘True and False’ came out and we all just loved it and devoured it; it became the new Bible for us, for a while anyway.

JH: I think the good thing about ‘True and False’ though was that it was less prescriptive.

CN: It was anti-prescriptive.

JH: Yes, and it was very much an overview and an approach, where as so many of the books like Declan’s are about, you know, on page 26 there is the exercise you do, and you know, any text you can treat like this – and you think, ‘Ooh, no no no.’ But you’re right, the Mamet – suddenly there was a real vogue for it. I remember Bill Nighy giving it to me and saying, ‘Have you read this? You’ve got to read it’. Everybody was on about it.

CN: Do you find that sort of things crops up mostly with young actors?

JH: Yes, but sometimes it’s older actors who have that panic of the mid-career, suddenly thinking ‘I’ve found this book which is the great thing I must do – this is why things haven’t been happening, because I haven’t been doing this!’

Coming in part two: Joe talks Pinter, Doran and Jacobi