The Way

Oh dear.  Can't we think of an acting technique that doesn't sound like a cult?

...THE WAY...

(Hat Tip: LRN)

The Method, Cont'd, Cont'd

From Evan Hagemeyer, the good friend who sent me the McKellen video in the first place:

I was going to leave this as a comment on the Ian McKellen debate, but it turned out too long:

Almost everything is contained in one sentence: "I imagined what it would be like to be a wizard, and then I pretended and acted in that way on the day." How much more simple can you make it, than to say great acting (or great pretending) is joining imagination to action? The Craft is to do that well, and all the techniques and methods are accretions upon that simple idea - one that is somehow so easy for some (the talented) and yet harder for others. For most of us, it isn't hard to use our imaginations. The tough part is in the joining. So people need all sorts of techniques to help them leap across the divide from solitary, internal experience to deeds that give and share the being inside. Perhaps why we love great actors is that they appear to have mastered making the jump from "me" to "us". That's something everyone wants, except maybe monks, and even they live in communities.

But as the focus of actor-based entertainments (films, plays, tv shows) has shifted from a style more overtly based on archetypes to what we call "realism", the actor's training has become more therapeutic. Learning to be an actor no longer simply requires mastering the artful deployment of gestures, facial expressions, and vocal tones as required by the "type" the actor is playing. It means being a like "real person" with "real experiences". So the actor joins his own actual internal life to the internal life of some imagined person, and then displays to the world the results of that inward mixup. There is an amazing "Apocalypse Now"-parody scene toward the end of "Tropic Thunder", where the Robert Downey Jr. character is removing all the stuff he has worn portraying a black Vietnam-era sergeant. As he removes the wig and the mustache, and drops the accent, he regresses backward through various characters he has played over the years. And when he finally reaches his own voice, he looks up and says, "I don't know who I am."

One reason why I like your idea/ideal of acting that "gives" is that it implies its contrary - an acting that "takes". Now I don't think they are in perfect symmetry - the "giving" acting gives to the audience, whereas I think acting that "takes" is this therapeutic form of the craft of acting, in which the actor uses their portrayal of the character to fill some inward void - or worse: deepen it. The "filling" is what the Downey Jr. character was getting at. So I think the Method exists, and will continue to exist, because it recognizes something about the psychology of a lot of actors. They are drawn to the profession out of some profound psychic neediness and sometimes even self-loathing. They see that emptiness or lack filled up by public acclaim or approval for becoming something other than they are. And the Method says, "You've got pain? Great! Use it to become someone else." But that's a lie. We can only become who we are. But we can pretend to be someone else.

And to make sure Anne's comment is brought to light:

I imagine that techniques of acting come in and out of fashion in synch with cultural changes. The Method must have been very powerful for a generation that had trouble accessing their feelings. In our era of weepy Oprah segments, I would expect actors face very different cultural challenges to the ideal of intellectual/emotional/physical clarity and expressiveness. But even now, the Method is just the ticket for some individual actors.

And beyond either of those considerations is the question of what kind of play you're in. New writing may require new acting styles, and therefore new approaches to training actors.

It would be remarkably silly to ignore the historical power and significance of what we call The Method, but we all need to agree that it is really just A Method.

The Method, Cont'd

A loyal reader writes:

I’ve returned a number of times to that wonderful clip you posted on your blog. The more I think about it the clearer it seems to me that Sir Ian is completely correct but not entirely complete. By that I mean acting is as simple as joining craft to imagination and then “pretending” to be the character. But there is a critical additional element – freedom. The actor has to give himself the freedom to fully pretend. He can’t think about pretending, he can’t prepare to pretend, he must give himself the freedom to simply completely do so. Indeed this is the essence of all creativity from Jazz, to poetry, to particle physics; the creative act is the ultimate assertion of personal freedom. The creative act, by definition opens new ground, expands frontiers, and in ways large and small redefines the universe. To do so requires freedom. A kind of freedom that comes from within. A clarity and openness the both allows and demands the creative response. It is as simple as “Sir Ian, Sir Ian, Sir Ian. Action this wizard shall not pass! Cut. Sir Ian, Sir Ian, Sir Ian” and as complex.

I fear I may come off a little flip about what we call “method acting.” This is sort of on purpose, but people who know me know that my real problem isn’t flippancy but a surplus of sobriety over almost anything. My real opposition stems from my belief that “method acting” as such is a broken system and I suppose my sloppy reasoning thinks what might start with teasing will grow into a substantive rumination toward an alternative. This is not what I’ve seen so far, unfortunately, and I think while a lot of people recognize the limitations of sense memory and American Stanislavskian approaches, few have had the drive to come up with another system. This is the foundation, though not the limit, of my respect for Viewpoints.

I also have a theoretical quibble with “the method,” which is the way in which it emphasizes the actor’s experience (feelings) over the task in hand. Conversely, take a look at Peter Brook’s dissection of the work of acting in The Open Door:

Daily life consists of being “any-old-how”. Let us take three examples. For instance, if one is taking an exam, or when one speaks with an intellectual, one will endeavour not to be “any-old-how” in thought or in speech, but without realizing it, “any-old-how” will be in our body, which will be ignored and limp. However, if we are with someone who is in distress, we will not be “any-old-how” in our feelings, we will certainly be kind and attentive, but our thoughts may be adrift or confused, and the same with our bodies. And in the third case, when one is driving a car, the entire body may well be mobilized, but the head, left to itself, can drift into “any-old-how” thoughts.

For an actor’s intentions to be perfectly clear, with intellectual alertness, true feeling and a balanced and tuned body, the three elements—thought, emotion, body, must be in perfect harmony. Only then can he fulfil the requirement to be more intense within a short space of time than when he is at home.

The method appeals to the totality of this work and the difficulty of it. Too often the alternative to the method is to pretend as though acting isn’t work, that it is easy, and this is part of the fun of Sir Ian’s explanation. But Brook’s discussion, like my loyal reader’s, neither erases acting as work, nor makes it into pure magic.