opening and closing the veil

Well, it's over.

It's very strange to plow through a whole production week and open and close in such a few days.

I was pleased with my own focus and work during our tech and dress rehearsals. I set some goals for myself with line accuracy and exploration of specific moments that I felt very good about during dress rehearsal.

I also had a kind of revelation about my castmates-- that it is unprofessional of me to be so frustrated by my peers and have such strong opinions about their performances. It's easier to let it go now that we're not in class, that's for sure. And the direction during this process has been unbalanced. But I haven't liked all the "professional" performances I've seen onstage. Why should I love all my castmate's performances? I don't have to. However, their acting choices don't make ME any more professional as a result. I need to let it go.

It was easier to work with some people when I adopted that perspective. It'll be my goal to own that going into next year with my cohort too.

I felt like I was able to really practice the little Alexander training we've started to have-- exploring how to maintain Madeleine's physical tension with the fewest number of muscles. I loved the challenge of keeping my shoulders slightly raised but finding, oh, I can relax my elbows! And it wouldn't change much, but made me so much more comfortable! I'm really excited to work with Pauline next year.

I realized that Simon rarely gave me any compliments throughout the process, particularly not compared to the number of compliments he gave to other members of the cast (objectively speaking, as I don't need compliments in order to do good work). I really only noticed because we would have notes during tech where some of us would receive a dozen notes, and others would receive no notes and many compliments despite having dropped lines or made changes to their performances. Which is fine. Just interesting.

It was really hard to open to such a small audience. We have this odd thing of knowing that as a workshop we're not going to get large audiences and our work is for the purpose of the work, not the audience. But an audience does feel like a small "pay off" from our training in being able to showcase what we've worked so hard on. Our largest audience was at the matinee, which was very nice. But it was hard. We deserved larger audiences. We also missed our course director through the process and performances. It's so hard with our tutors being stretched so thin, but it's hard not to compare ourselves to the MFA 2s, who had visits from Alex a few times through their rehearsals and multiple performances. It makes sense, being their final performance, though that was the case in their other productions this year too. We missed having some of the support through the process, particularly since rehearsals were so strange and frustrating. But-- I'm looking forward to seeing how all of this (hopefully) changes next year by having our performances open to the public.

Our closing performance was absolutely the best one we had-- potentially of the entire process. It was the only time the Hostage Scene landed in that way. We had a much better pace for the whole performance. Some performances didn't seem so indulgent. I don't know what changed-- maybe not having Simon there, maybe having Alex there, I'm not sure. I'm glad it was the one Alex was able to see. Though I thought his comment after the show was telling-- "This wasn't the play I read." No, it wasn't. It wasn't the play I read either, or most of the cast. I'm not sure it was the play that was in the text. Hopefully our workbooks will be revealing for him to read as to why that may have been the case.

Overall I'm proud of the work I did. I know I did good work. I'm not sure what to anticipate for my marks from Simon-- I think he can't not give me pretty strong marks, though I think he'll give some of my castmates higher marks for even things like they were able/willing to stay late after class to discuss how to explore certain research they've done. I explored plenty of research in my process (where I could, since I only had a certain amount of freedom, admittedly) and I'm proud of my work. So I'm not very concerned about the marks, just curious.

I think I've grown a lot as an actor this year. I'm looking forward to the break so I can give my mind a rest, but I have really enjoyed the momentum of the year and hope I can keep a lot of my training going on my own over the summer.

On to the next!

understudies

Here's the thing.

I was supposed to see Richard Madden in Romeo and Juliet tonight.

Apparently.

I mean, forget about the fact that it also starred Derek Jacobi, Lily James and a host of other brilliantly talented actors, co-directed by Kenneth Branagh and Rob Ashford, performed at a historic and lovely theater during Shakespeare's 400th death-iversary year.

I was supposed to see RICHARD MADDEN.

Of Game of Thrones fame. THE Robb Stark.

But when I bought my programme (yes, American tourists, they're not free), there was a slip of paper included saying that he was indisposed and the role of Romeo would be played by-- GASP-- an understudy??!?!??!?!?!!

Then the usher had the audacity to remind me? Before I had to see that other guy walk onstage and perform one of the most iconic roles ever (apparently with very little notice given how late the house opened and that the show was held about ten minutes too), she REMINDED me? So I could be prepared for disappointment, right? So I could scoff to my friends and/or date sitting with me about how "he'd better be just as attractive. He'd BETTER BE." That's it.

You guys-- this happened tonight. Minus the part about me taking it personally. This happened.

The entire theatre staff spent the half-hour before showtime acting apologetic. I almost expected a preshow announcement, though I suppose with the audible whining that would have occurred as a result, I'm really glad that's not a thing. And the comments from the audience....

THE COMMENTS.

And I mean, I get it. I'm not like some big fan, but I was interested to see his performance (in part because he's kind of been slammed by critics...) and I like his acting well enough from the little I've seen. It's a surprise. It's kind of a disappointment. I get it. I've seen a handful of understudies for West End shows and I guess it's a kind of bummer if they're understudying a Name. But the things I overheard tonight made me just really bummed out by popular media-consumers who, from the looks of it, don't regularly attend theatre.

I heard a number of comments wondering if "the understudy" (who's name is Tom Hanson, according to the programme many were actively holding in their hands, thank you) would match Mr Madden's level of attractiveness. "OH NO REALLY?? Guh. Well is the understudy as hot as him??" Which like-- OK. But that's insulting to everybody and it makes you shallow, popular media-consumer. OK? Especially when you paid £35-£90 for your ticket.

And at the interval, despite Mr Hanson's performance generally being received positively during the show, I literally heard a woman say, "Well he's great! If not just a little..." And then she waved her hand in front of her face and then her gut, then shrugged and chuckled with her friends.

Because Romeo was supposed to be Robb Stark, not Robb Stark's stand-in. Because the audience bought tickets to see one show and felt like they were getting another-- and in some sense I guess that's true. But I was so disgusted and disappointed by these people, particularly thinking of the feelings Mr Hanson likely has about himself as Mr Madden's understudy.

No single person in the entire world knows just how precisely he is not Richard Madden, more than Richard Madden's understudy.

Understudying is always hard and thankless. You have to do the work of the actor whose role it is, but without the weeks of study and rehearsal, usually while studying and rehearsing your own role in the show. You have to have nerves of steel, to jump into a performance at the last moment if necessary and carry on without a hitch. You have to go back to your other, smaller role, knowing you're brilliant and capable, and watch someone carry on with work you're totally brilliant and capable of doing (with less study, rehearsal or preparation). But being the understudy to a celebrity I imagine comes with a kind of weight and pressure that is very specific because at the end of the day, your brilliance and flexibility and preparation doesn't matter: "the understudy" is simply not Richard Madden and will always be, in a way, blamed for that.

On top of it, the audience seemed to be prepared to consume the play as they would a weekend of binging Game of Thrones. I was sitting between two women about my age, each holding drinks and a handful of snacks, who crinkled and crunched their way through the play like they were watching a movie or sitting on their couch at home. One of them literally at an entire can of crisps with her mouth open. A guy nearby kept leaning over and talking to his friend/date so that a dull murmur was almost constant. People kept getting up to go to the toilet and coming back in the middle of scenes.

I was desperate for the safety curtain to come down at interval with a the condescending Netflix screen-- Are you still watching Romeo and Juliet? The screen that forces you to acknowledge that you've been sitting in front of your television for a number of hours and reminds you that have fallen down the rabbit hole of mindless media consumption.

Congratulations to The Understudy for a really brilliant performance. I rather love to see an understudy, not only because it highlights the intricacy of the seamlessly moving parts in a stage production, but also because understudies bring an electricity to the performance that is quite specific. It's satisfying to be able to cheer for the "underdog," especially when they deserve it. And it's sometimes also satisfying when The Understudy delivers a performance that exceeds the critical reviews that The Name has generally received.

But I mean-- he's no Robb Stark.

notes for the veil

The following are photos of the pages at the end of my copy of The Veil, where I have recorded notes and thoughts throughout the rehearsal process before tech week. My own thoughts are marked with a --> in the photos and transcribed below.





15 June - personal thoughts transcription:

• Review pgs. 53-61, 117-122
• I just... can't understand why/how I'M getting notes on "going up on lines" but others aren't. Especially when I KNOW how generally precise I was today. Which is why I called out Zak when I got corrected for something that wasn't my fault. And also there's so much fucking around on lines everywhere else!! Additional thoughts: This was the first rehearsal where I felt really confident about my lines and knew precisely the ones I still needed to work on. The above sets of pages are entire scenes that I felt I should review but don't overall reflect the confidence I actually had in myself following the delivery of each scene. I was corrected for "missing" a few lines in my first scene which was due to Zak skipping a whole section-- so of course I missed them. Why it was my mistake, particularly when I handled the jump quite well, is simply beyond me. There were multiple scenes throughout where I know others of my castmates were not hitting their lines precisely, yet it seemed to be me (or Jared) who were the focus of the supposed problem. I'm very disheartened by this.
• How are S & R [September and Robert] called "excellent" and "brilliant" when they make everyone else's jobs SO HARD. Additional thoughts: If inconsistent, erratic performances of scenes, wherein emotion has been indulged and encouraged since the first read-through, is considered "excellent" or "brilliant", then I guess Simon and I have different understandings of these words. Particularly when the rest of us are creatively compromised or, as I like to say, taken hostage (see below). To me, excellent and brilliant work should be more universally appreciated, particularly by my scene partners without whom my excellence or brilliance is nothing!!
• What did I do differently that he questioned my (correctly delivered, as usual) lines a number of times? Additional thoughts: Simon comment on at least three lines of mine today with initial questioning that I had even said them correctly because something about them was different enough that he heard them as if for the first time-- which would be really good, I think, except that the initial impression is that I had said my lines incorrectly. I've tried to objectively consider what I did quite so differently today and I think a difference is that I was allowing myself to be much more present and influenced by actor-Emily's personal feelings as character-Madeline. So of course my delivery was fresh and new. But I always have aimed to be fresh and new. I know I have been, throughout the process. Objectively. I also know, objectively, some of my peers have delivered some of their lines exactly the same way since our first read-through. So what is it about my delivery today that was so starkly different that the assumption was made I was wrong? Maybe this is a case of FU that we discussed in workbook session a few weeks ago...
• "This scene is so different from how it's written!" - Zak, with some amazement & disappointment -- NO FUCKING WAY. Additional thoughts: The penultimate scene of this play is nothing like the way I expected it to be upon first and second and fifth and sixth reads through. The stage directions indicate that Madeleine is supposed to sooth Fingal before kissing him on the mouth to calm him down, after which the have a new understanding for the final scene. Zero times has Zak's delivery of his marathon speech inclined me to sooth him, much less kiss him. He stands and delivers a sobbing sermon about Fingal's "true feelings" (which they actually aren't, by virtue of the fact that two weeks later he's happily engaged to marry Clare, as outlined throughout the text over and over-- the speech to Madeleine is ranting, emotional word vomit induced by alcohol and impending financial ruin, but I digress...) that takes forever, doesn't take into account the six other characters in the room, doesn't acknowledge the number of times Madeleine has interrupted him in the scene up until that point-- just a wallowing, babyish, SOBBING expulsion of emotion that forces actor-Emily to feel exposed, embarrassed, frustrated, annoyed, and mad-- which of course comes across in character-Madeleine's response. Instead of kissing and soothing, I awkwardly pat his back and force myself to allow him to sob into my leg/skirt until Jared and Madison can motivate themselves to carry onward in the scene. This is not a slam on them. Nor on Zak, actually. I had a series of conversations with Simon about the direction of the speech and the scene, and I was quite honest about how I definitely could not honestly motivate Madeleine to offer much more than a pat on the back (to say nothing of a soothing kiss!!) based on what is being given to me. But despite my honest reactions, which are director-approved and which are increasingly honest, Zak is surprised and amazed and somewhat somehow disappointed that the scene is "so different" from the way it is written. NO SHIT, SHERLOCK. He ignores every response I give him. He ignores my scoffing, he ignores my discomfort, he ignores the deflation of the rest of the cast as we all settle in for his confessional sermon. I shouldn't be surprised by this, and I guess I'm not. Just continually on the hunt as to what I can continue to do better and more honestly to play the scene as it was intended. 

16 June - personal thoughts transcription:

• I am so furious about the end of 1.3 I could cry. WHY DOES ROBERT IGNORE ME AS I AM SCREAMING AT HIM. And then stands ON TOP OF ME during my exchange with Fingal? This play is officially about Audelle. It is no longer an ensemble piece. Additional thoughts: He literally ignores me. He ignores everyone. He does what he does and will not listen to anyone, including a hysterical, demanding LADY with a TITLE in the ESTATE where he is a GUEST-- who is, on a more personal level, his peer and castmate, who is actively and obviously frustrated. And sad. I'm just sad. The scene is supposed to culminate with the revelation that the already-ruined estate is now further ruined and blood is on Madeleine's hands. Instead it culminates with Robert rejoicing in his sensate-ness and participating in a conversation that is not his by simply being directly in Zak's "bubble" when Zak is supposed to be having a conversation with me. It has been suggested by others of my cohort that this play has become about Audelle instead of about the Lambrokes or about the ensemble-- today, I 1000000% agree. And I feel so so so sad that there feels like I can't do anything to tell the actual story.
• WTF, sight lines. We cannot see each other. How will the audience see anyone? 
• Robert LAUGHS through 1.4, proving that he is NOT LISTENING TO ANYONE, including himself. Additional thoughts: Robert's actor habit is that he laughs when he either doesn't know what else to do or, more frequently, when he doesn't know what he's saying. It has made me hyper-conscious of objectively observing my own actor habits. My most specific actor habit is tension, which I check at every opportunity. I'm amazed (AMAZED) how I can relax so much of my body without compromising a physical position. So at least I'm learning from others. 
• Review pg. 117-end
• Robert confesses he wasn't pay attention during notes-- "Was there something for me?" - No. IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU. Additional thoughts: It's about the piece, it's about the ensemble, it's about the cohort. I need to continually remember this as well. 
• Why does Madi get pulled back for her tears, but R, S, & Z [Robert, September & Zak] DON'T?! Additional thoughts: Literally the first time Madison was able to produce real, honest, beautiful tears during her amazingly beautiful song, she was told they needed to come at a different time. Meanwhile, other members of our cast have been sobbing uncontrollably throughout the play, particularly in the penultimate scene, without abandon or restraint, since the first read-through. It has made me so aware of my own and my character's emotions. I am proud of the fact that I rarely get the two confused. Actor-Emily is inclined to be dreadfully more emotional than character-Madeleine. I'm calling that a win for myself and something I want to continue to refine.
• We have been encouraged to "keep playing" but most of us get corrected when we do. Hard to understand. Additional thoughts: Meaning, five of us are regularly corrected whenever we try to do something new, or are forced to react differently based on given circumstances. I'm trying to see this as a lesson in producing a cohesive, consistent character based on direction or forced circumstances that are not necessarily scripted or something previously rehearsed by me. I think ultimately it makes me a better, more flexible, more aware, more adult actor. I hope so, anyway.
• Mentioned I'd like to run the end of 1.3 because I end up behind Robert for most of it - which Simon doesn't mind because this play is about Audelle. Dammit. Additional thoughts: I wish I could say I was alone in this kind of situation. But regularly, most of the cast is "hostage" to the inclinations of a few characters-- in this case, Audelle-- who have somehow become The Point of this play. I don't know when I missed the conversation or the revelation regarding The Point of this play, but from my reading and dissection of the text, the play isn't about any one single person. There are only eight people in the show. Every single character is important, every single character has a journey, every single character contributes to the overall Point, which is about what it means to be human, to love, to grieve, to interpret and digest death. I'm choosing to see this as an opportunity to stretch myself and ground Madeleine in truth, given the text and the apparent circumstances. I hope I will always be an actor, going forward, who honors the journey of every actor and character with whom I work. 

my rehearsal process

I think it's important to record some of my process for rehearsing. While I may not keep a journal in a traditional sense for my characters, these photos are typical of how I record things in my script. I find having my thoughts written in so closely to the text makes it easy to reference-- and change.

    

research thoughts - contextual studies

Last term, Steph told us specifically that we shouldn't do our presentations about people-- to not do a biographical presentation. Zak did a (shoddy) presentation about the life of Ben Jonson. I can only imagine he didn't fail, because today he did a (better but still wildly under-researched) presentation on the life of Noel Coward.

I just...

I do not understand.

I'm at a loss.

I get that I'm passionate about research and contextual studies, but with this assessment and the other (gasp) unmarked presentations for other classes, multiple classmates have admitted that they do the bare minimum to fulfill the assignment in the least amount of time-- especially the ones that aren't scored. It has come around a few times that things I've presented on later have questions asked about, as if it's never been covered-- so people aren't even listening to each other. So then what's the point? It's such a waste of time for us all.

It would be awesome if people could give a damn.

And not waste my time, since there are not enough hours in the day. I'd rather do my own reading/research.

And facilitate my learning!!!

animal assessment reflections

Well. That's done.

Lou had initially not wanted me to take this second half of the assessment, having missed class leading up to today. Which is fair enough, except that we aren't marked on process. Being essentially an improv exercise, it seems to me (assuming I've done work on my own to embody an orangutan as a human) practice with peers is potentially helpful (of course) but won't necessarily improve my ultimate assessed performance. I was glad Alex agreed with me on that. And I also feel strongly that my animal work assessment is not my whole priority of this programme, compared to other assessments. I always want to do well, and I don't take for granted any of the assessment assignments. They are chosen specifically for our benefit, and so it's important to me. But since this term has been about perspective, I know that not every single assessment can possibly be THE MOST important. My research and acting class and voice are subjects that interest me more and which I am more likely to be areas of employment in the future, etc. etc. etc.

All that said-- I think it went pretty well. I was with Zak and Madison in a movie theatre. It was fine. I was orangutany, I interacted with the others as well as I could. It was fine.

That said-- this module remains problematic. While our scenario was fine, it doesn't provide opportunity to interact naturally, since the whole point of the location is to quietly watch a movie in a dark room. Propriety dictates the quietness, and while that could be an interesting conflict, it would require some acutely developed improv skills (or natural talent) between all scene partners and perhaps more than 3-5 minutes of scene development. The other problem is that we all came in separately and the given instructions don't let us necessarily attend the movie, in this case, as friends with the other people/animals in the scene. Makes it hard to interact with people/animals that our animals wouldn't naturally interact with. It's not a naturally active setting for a scene.

Meanwhile, Rachael and Jared were put in a bar on a blind date. The setting forces (or at least encourages) interaction between two animals/people who would otherwise avoid each other, in an active location. I thought they both did very well. But it's a more natural, maybe easy, setting to succeed.

But it goes back to the idea that this module is not a particularly strong one to be assessed. I think animal work is interesting and important enough to be studied, but the components of the assessment are imbalanced and not well applied. The animals-as-humans seems to be better applied to actual characters in actual scenes. I know for myself I would be better able to embody an orangutan in a character without juggling the improv aspect, and it would be an incredibly useful study in approaching characters and process. As it stands, it's about transformation... but problematically so. Additionally, in the same way the animal assignments are imbalanced by the physical work required for each actor, the scenarios then don't provide everyone a balanced opportunity to interact.

That said-- it's fine. And it's over. On to singing, voice, acting scenes and The Veil.

THE VEIL - week 9

I'm going to lose my mind.

I go back and forth between really enjoying the material and exploring this character, and being entirely limited/appalled by certain members of this cast. I have rarely been a part of a more imbalanced process. Some of our cast with similar concerns would say it is poor, demonstrative directing that's putting the wrong people on a tight lead (or rather, letting the wrong people have free reign to do whatever the hell they basically want). I can see that. I don't entirely disagree. But ultimately I have found Simon to be a fine enough director-- at least in my own process.

What I find appalling-- APPALLING-- is the sheer and utter disregard of some of my castmates for the process or acting choices of their castmates. AKA us. Who have since last term been frankly expected to be able to "go with it" when these specific people do whatever they want with such freedom that they not only do whatever they want, but also blatantly IGNORING the choices of their scene partners.

This morning I decided to try to take it on myself to react differently (and more and more honestly) to Zak's speech at me in Act II. I went with what I was being given, which I always aim to do but balanced with keeping "Emily's" reactions separate from "Madeleine's." His Fingal in this rehearsal was making my Madeleine feel disgusted, embarrassed, angry, incensed, frustrated, pitiful, ridiculous-- so I played all of those reactions as I had them (keeping in mind the limitations of the circumstances of my character, the fact that Madeleine has no lines for those pages of the script, and the fact I have been directed to stand still). HIS PERFORMANCE DID NOT CHANGE. It was the same sobbing, SLOW nonsense he's done since the first read through. Aubrey has one major chunk of lines that gets steamrolled and laughed at because her scene partners do not respect or consider her singular moment. And when they receive direction, it is so difficult for them to digest what is being given that we can't continue to layer developments or corrections. It makes me crazy. Such a horrific lack of awareness. It's unfair and maddening.

Yet what do we do? For myself, I've had talks with Simon about why I'm making certain choices and that I feel completely limited (aka held hostage) by my scene partners. It is not my job to give them notes or direction, especially since we are preparing to be professional actors. Yet we are in an academic setting, so it seems we should be able to do SOMETHING to encourage our classmates to take anyone into consideration beyond themselves. We should all be able to have access to the same opportunities to grow and explore in the rehearsal process.

The first day of orientation during induction week, Alex told us about our programme being an opportunity to facilitate each others' learning. It is a point we have returned to OVER and OVER, ALL YEAR. I would say Group A does that for me. I feel safe in my scenes with Jared and Aubrey in The Veil. Jared and Rachael are largely why I had a chance to find success in She Ventures... and term 2 acting class. The rest of the play and my acting class scene this term make me anxious and frustrated and mad. I've been generally backed into a corner this term and throughout the year. And it's more than I can take. I am thrilled to go away for the summer in a few weeks and then to return to our research term in the fall. Maybe by term 2 next year, and potentially with some other classmates to join us, I might be ready to work with some of them by January.

I have said before-- a group can only work at the level of it's weakest link. It's not fair that the rest of us have been so acutely at their mercy.

It makes me that much more determined to be a good, safe seen partner. I never want to make others feel the way I do. I want to be wholly prepared to make my castmates look good. My own preparation and process is worthless if it doesn't help my castmates. My creative decisions are selfish and unprofessional if they prevent others from doing their best work. It is my job to be ready to bring freshness to my rehearsals and performances-- to listen to what is being said to, about and around me onstage and react. APPROPRIATELY. I must be sensitive to and aware of other characters in the text and onstage. It's just not about how I influence others for my aims, it's how I can work with others for their aims too. It's give and take. I feel good about how much I give and have given. I will work harder to give even more for the rest of this process and in performances, and try to be satisfied with my efforts.

It would just be great to receive the same courtesy from my classmates.

voice tutorial - pre-assessment session

My thoughts on my "dress rehearsal":

• Happy with my use of plosives-- highly satisfied with diction!
• Liked my ease and relaxation in epilogue-- good/brave eye contact
• Good exercise in pacing and enjoying the speeches
• Don't need to speed through to clip along or make thoughts connect sustain (esp. in epilogue)
• Play more with internal vs. external in Rutherford speech
• Was a good start but can build more
• What order to perform? Did epilogue first, but might be interesting to switch
• What shoes should I wear? Maybe black zipper Oxfords. 

Simon's notes:

• Go over phrasing-- keep thoughts together in epliogue
• Be centered in characters at top of speeches-- grounded
• End one and take time to move on-- let audience let go
• Doing epilogue first allows Yorkshire to be "educated" more naturally
• Good internal start to Yorkshire-- starting inward allows getting worked up to be a choice

Remember FRESHNESS-- don't lose spontaneity! Don't over-plan or over-prepare.

rp in ireland - contextual studies research

Surprising no one at this point, I’m still curious about accents and dialects onstage, and I’m still keen to explore the social, political and theatrical relationships between the stage and given historical periods. Specifically for my research today, I’ve decided to take a look at Irish theatre history and the Anglicizing of the Irish language.

Ireland, as we have touched on a little, has had a very long, complicated relationship with England. The Normans first invaded Ireland in the late 12th century, but things got especially tense when Henry VIII declared himself King of Ireland and attempted to enforce the English Reformation in Ireland. This didn’t go over very well, but it did open the door for an influx of English and Scottish Protestant settlers-- who ended up displacing the existing Catholic landowners, leading to a distinct “Englishing” of the Irish gentry and society. Ireland did maintain its own Parliament after the establishment of the United Kingdom in 1707, though by the end of the 18th century, Catholic representation (which was about 85% of the population at the time) was banned by the Protestant newcomers. This Irish Parliament was disbanded in 1801 following the Irish Rebellion of 1798, when Catholic Irish nationalists attempted to overthrow the control of Protestant unionists. Ireland was then represented in England’s Parliament entirely by Protestants until the 1829 Catholic Emancipation. In 1922, most of Ireland seceded from the UK and became the Republic of Ireland, since which time there has been occasional continued conflict.

It’s not surprising that Ireland became increasingly “Englished” in the last 500 years or so. Much  of the Irish population managed to maintain their language through the 18th century, particularly in the west and southwest regions of Ireland, furthest from immediate British influence. Some contemporaries estimate that about two-thirds of the Irish population spoke Irish as of 1731.  However by 1791, in the midst of the great Standard English conversation, Irish speakers dropped to about 50%-- much of this demographic was bilingual, with English as their second language. But by 1800, Irish was increasingly associated with poverty and illiteracy. There became a real concern that native Irish would cease to exist altogether by 1900. [Slide 4 - maps of Ireland] The map on the left here was drawn in 1871 and records the general linguistic patterns of the country based on census records, dark red indicating Irish-speaking majority regions and white is where less than 10% of the population was speaking Irish. The map on the right is from 2011 with dark green highlighting Irish-speaking regions. Despite an upswing in national pride following Irish independence, Irish-speaking populations remain very low. There has been an interest in relearning Irish and about 30% of the nation consider themselves “passably” bilingual. However it has been suggested that only somewhere between 2-8% currently speak Irish as their primary language.

To make matters more complicated, a vital aspect of the Anglo-linguistic influence in Ireland stems from the fact that the Irish people first learned English from speakers of non-standard English-- either from settlers who came from the English countryside or Irish people were learning English from other Irish people. This made the Irish-English dialect (or Hiberno-English, from the classical Latin name for Ireland, Hibernia) particularly Irish, and during a period of time where Irish culture and people were considered especially “low class” (to put it diplomatically), the 18th century Irish weren’t found to be “English enough,” even those with ties to English culture.

Simultaneously, Ireland was introduced to another aspect of English society: in 1601, the first public stage production in Ireland was performed in the Great Hall at Dublin Castle-- the English play Gorbaduc. By 1634 the first Irish theatre was built-- an indoor “private” theatre that was very popular and closed in 1641 only because of the Irish Rebellion and the start of the Civil War. This theatre was actually sought after by English actors who fled London during a bad plague outbreak in the late 1630s, and it was here that the first “Irish” plays were premiered. James Shirley was from London, but he wrote the plays specifically for the Irish troupe and Irish audiences, which had not been done before 1637. His association with the Warburgh Street Theatre began a close relationship between London theatre and Dublin that remains today.

Smock Alley Theatre was built in 1662, following the building of Lincoln’s Inn Fields and Drury Lane in London, and received the third Theatre Royal patency in the British Isles. It was eventually managed by Thomas Sheridan, actor, playwright and eventual champion of standardized English, whom I discussed last term. Smock Alley premiered plays by George Farquhar, Oliver Goldsmith and Richard Sheridan, many of which plays are now considered staples in the “English” theatre canon. David Garrick first played his infamous Hamlet at Smock Alley and it has been estimated that about 25% of the greatest English actors visited Dublin at some time in their careers-- a great many began fabulously successful careers there, such as Peg Woffington, Charles Macklin, and George Anne Bellamy. Ireland’s rich association with the London stage paved the way for quintessentially “British” playwrights to epitomize “Britain” (meaning “England”) in the late Victorian and Edwardian eras-- such as Irish-born Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw-- illustrating a truism about English stage comedy: it is very often Irish.

Of course, the very association with London in the Irish theatre is also a very real example of the widespread codependency and tension between English and Irish cultures. While many London actors and playwrights were well-received in Dublin, their popularity decreased opportunities for Irish actors to work-- and in the opposite way, embracing Irish actors and writers into London society only managed to erase their “Irishness” and make them more English. But without this relationship, the theatre was vital in providing voice models for the Irish gentry to study standardized English.  Aaron Hill noted that the stage should be where “the delicacies of good-breeding might be learnt, in their sublimest purity; and the elegancies of language, in its most refined and absolute perfection.” Grammar could be learnt in one of the many new readers and dictionaries of the age, but in the generations before sound recordings, the stage was the most immediate place to hear good pronunciation. It was thought (at least among the educated gentry and socially ambitious) that pursuing a “pure English” would provide access to the dominion of London, despite its physical and social distance.

In a way, using the stage as a way for Anglo-Irish gentry to be taught created an even wider divide between social classes in Ireland. Theatre and culture created more of a stigma surrounding uneducated Irish natives or those who couldn’t or wouldn’t become more Englished. While of course theatrical tradition provided opportunities for classes to mix in the audience of a play-house, political uprising and early crop failures divided classes more than ever-- who can afford to see a play if they can’t feed their families, much less spend time studying grammar and pronunciation (if they could even speak or read English at all)?

This cultural dichotomy is really well-illustrated in The Veil, as we have discussed throughout rehearsals. But we haven’t touched much on the very real linguistic implications of the play and the time period, and the vast social chasm between the Lambrokes and their native staff. Like other regional English dialects, Hiberno-English developed (and continues to develop) grammatical rules, structure and pronunciation unique to itself. In other words, though the dialect may be related to or a kind of corrupted form of Standard English, Irish-English and Standard English are not the same language. For example, a Hiberno-English speaker would hear the Standard English phrase “How long are you staying here?” and understand it to mean “How long have you been staying here?” whereas Standard English speakers take it to mean “How long will you be staying here”? “How long are you staying here” and “how long have you been staying here” are two distinct questions with very different answers depending on your understanding of the questions.

This doesn’t prevent our characters from speaking to or generally understanding each other. However, there are plenty of examples throughout the play that deal with misunderstanding, social divide, generational gaps, etc. Structurally, Grandie speaks much more like Mrs. Goulding than Madeleine or Hannah. Mrs. Goulding, Fingal and Clare speak to each other with the same structure and idiom, which they do not share with the rest of the cast. And of course, perhaps Fingal is fueled to an extreme response based on a simple misunderstanding-- but emotion and alcohol aside, linguistically and socially, he and Madeline do not actually speak the same language, which provides enormous opportunity to request and carry out the wrong task.

Given all there is to be learned in studying the history and social context of period plays, it gives me hope that William Hazlitt is right. While cultural and political invasion and the importance of the arts within society have and will remain delicate aspects of history and the future, I think “the stage is the epitome, a bettered likeness of the world…. What brings the resemblance nearer is, that, as they imitate us, we, in our turn, imitate them.”

workbook session thoughts

Questions and thoughts following a particularly thought- and emotion-provoking workbook session....

An MFA is about being an independent learner. How does my previous work/life experience help me in this? I'm really lucky to have been kind of self-taught, in the sense that my formal training is very limited. I've learned on the job, for the most part. I've learned from incredibly talented, creative, admirable directors and fellow actors who have worked and do work professionally. As a result, I have done all of my learning as an actor as an independent learner. I have learned to be observant, I have learned to do my own research and self-train, I have sought training from people when I need coaching. I was also raised by generations of educators-- my dad has always said that education is an inherently selfish pursuit, which doesn't make it a bad thing, but it does illustrate this idea of independent learning. I also initially quit my undergraduate acting degree because I knew, at that time in my life, I needed to be an English major who could sit in the library and read and write papers alone. Independent learning is a thing I do very, very well. The challenge in our field and in this course is to balance the independence with the collaborative nature of theatre and acting. I also think I'm good at collaborating and respecting the independence of others, so I've got a good head-start in this effort.

When I get feedback, do I do something about it or do I say FU? When is it ok to say FU? Because it is ok! I should feel secure in my own ability and processes my can access myself-- without a director. But at the end of the day, I need to be able to to fulfill the vision of my director, as I was hired (or at least cast) to do. So it's a give and take. I think the FU comes in having integrity as an actor to know when I'm performing or making choices in a way that is good but doesn't serve the overall vision, and knowing the choices I want to make are still good ones. I think the only time to say a proper FU is if I am being asked to compromise my integrity as an artist (and therefore as a person) to such an extent that I can no longer stand by the creative result. I am lucky enough to have never been in that position enough to quit a project or cause some kind of creative scene, but my experience has definitely provided me the opportunity to know the difference between my creative choice and a choice forced from a director a scene partner. If it's for the good of the overall project, in general I have found I don't need to say FU.



Meanwhile, Zak makes some commentary about how it's "awesome" that "our group doesn't ask for validation" -- except that he LITERALLY DID after our first performance in acting class this term and we got all notes without any validation. He LITERALLY said, "Ok now what did we do well? I'm a typical American-- I like my critique sandwiched between compliments." My jaw hangs in amazement, at a complete loss as to what to think. I'm... just at at a complete loss.

For the record: I am not a "typical American", if this is what it means to be one.

September also had some questions today about how to recreate a moment, which also somewhat frustrated me, because after a year of MFA-level training she is at a loss as to how to be able to do that. It makes me feel precisely like: THEN WTF ARE YOU DOING IN A THEATRE TRAINING OR DOING ACTING. This is the exact, precise reason why many members of our cohort are terrified to be onstage with her. We never know from rehearsal to rehearsal (even on the same day!) what we will be given as her scene partner. While I am supportive and encouraging of exploration in rehearsal and even into performances (because obviously it is my job as an actor to keep a scene or a speech fresh for each performance), there is also a sense of consistency that is vital for an actor, particularly onstage. It is the opposite of encouraging for my classmate to admit and discuss her inability to comprehend, much less execute, a consistent performance after finding what "works" during a rehearsal process.

Alex's response was excellent, as his responses always are-- and much more diplomatic and understanding than I could ever be. His advice to be able to recreate a moment was to identify your actions specifically and make them precise. It does beg the question, does it leave you open to be in the moment? Does it leave room for true honesty to make actions specific and precise enough to recreate? It's less about recreating a moment and more about making it consistent-- MY FAVORITE WORD!

Consistent.

I'm really good at being consistent. And I know it isn't to a fault-- I know I can keep blocking and line delivery fresh, I know I can play a moment based on a specific audience that can alter somewhat based on the needs of the next audience, I know I'm open to my scene partners to respond based on their changes. But I will always hit my mark, I will always hit a cue, I will always be reliable to provide a consistent performance. And it comes back to objectivity-- which Alex mentioned specifically as well-- especially during a rehearsal process. I think that is another strength of mine, one I'm still honing (I find marks and feedback help me a lot to know if my objectivity is in line with what my tutors and directors think of my work).

I guess I take it for granted that consistency and objectivity are not inherent traits in actors. I take it for granted that this is a lesson some maybe don't learn until drama school. My fear is that based on the lack of awareness (self-awareness, spacial awareness, awareness of others) that some might be working to improve this term is actually being exploited in our rehearsal process. I fear some of my castmates need to be told specifically if and when they're not being objective or consistent-- myself included, but especially those who don't know how to do it. We discussed the fact that "success" can breed a self-satisfied attitude and that someone at the top doesn't need to tell everyone about it. I think the problem is less about bragging (in general) but more, again, about the lack of awareness. Ego puts yourself above or separate from others, and from self-improvement-- and I think that ego is also found in the lack of awareness and inability to be a respectful, reliable scene partner. But the problem is, what if direction or feedback is encouraging (or at least not discouraging) an actor from being consistent? How is the scene partner supposed to handle it?

Which is why, once again, I strive daily to be a reliable, consistent actor for the sake of my scene partners, and the audiences, and the directors vision, and the producers who have hired me.





I find it interesting that once again, as is the case every time we have these deep actorly talks, Zak is silent.

mount prospect - inspiration

dream children: a reverie - by charles lamb, 1823

I was struck by Audelle's final speech in rehearsal today and it reminded me of this essay I've loved for years and years. Just a bit of inspiration for going forward--

Children love to listen to stories about their elders, when they were children; to stretch their imagination to the conception of a traditionary great-uncle or grandame, whom they never saw. It was in this spirit that my little ones crept about me the other evening to hear about their great-grandmother Field, who lived in a great house in Norfolk (a hundred times bigger than that in which they and papa lived) which had been the scene—so at least it was generally believed in that part of the country—of the tragic incidents which they had lately become familiar with from the ballad of the Children in the Wood. Certain it is that the whole story of the children and their cruel uncle was to be seen fairly carved out in wood upon the chimney-piece of the great hall, the whole story down to the Robin Redbreasts, till a foolish rich person pulled it down to set up a marble one of modern invention in its stead, with no story upon it. Here Alice put out one of her dear mother’s looks, too tender to be called upbraiding. Then I went on to say, how religious and how good their great-grandmother Field was, how beloved and respected by everybody, though she was not indeed the mistress of this great house, but had only the charge of it (and yet in some respects she might be said to be the mistress of it too) committed to her by the owner, who preferred living in a newer and more fashionable mansion which he had purchased somewhere in the adjoining county; but still she lived in it in a manner as if it had been her own, and kept up the dignity of the great house in a sort while she lived, which afterward came to decay, and was nearly pulled down, and all its old ornaments stripped and carried away to the owner’s other house, where they were set up, and looked as awkward as if some one were to carry away the old tombs they had seen lately at the Abbey, and stick them up in Lady C.’s tawdry gilt drawing-room. Here John smiled, as much as to say, “that would be foolish indeed.” And then I told how, when she came to die, her funeral was attended by a concourse of all the poor, and some of the gentry too, of the neighborhood for many miles round, to show their respect for her memory, because she had been such a good and religious woman; so good indeed that she knew all the Psaltery by heart, aye, and a great part of the Testament besides. Here little Alice spread her hands. Then I told what a tall, upright, graceful person their great-grandmother Field once was; and how in her youth she was esteemed the best dancer—here Alice’s little right foot played an involuntary movement, till upon my looking grave, it desisted—the best dancer, I was saying, in the county, till a cruel disease, called a cancer, came, and bowed her down with pain; but it could never bend her good spirits, or make them stoop, but they were still upright, because she was so good and religious. Then I told how she was used to sleep by herself in a lone chamber of the great lone house; and how she believed that an apparition of two infants was to be seen at midnight gliding up and down the great staircase near where she slept, but she said “those innocents would do her no harm”; and how frightened I used to be, though in those days I had my maid to sleep with me, because I was never half so good or religious as she—and yet I never saw the infants. Here John expanded all his eyebrows and tried to look courageous. Then I told how good she was to all her grand-children, having us to the great house in the holidays, where I in particular used to spend many hours by myself, in gazing upon the old busts of the Twelve Caesars, that had been Emperors of Rome, till the old marble heads would seem to live again, or I to be turned into marble with them; how I never could be tired with roaming about that huge mansion, with its vast empty rooms, with their worn-out hangings, fluttering tapestry, and carved oaken panels, with the gilding almost rubbed out—sometimes in the spacious old-fashioned gardens, which I had almost to myself, unless when now and then a solitary gardening man would cross me—and how the nectarines and peaches hung upon the walls, without my ever offering to pluck them, because they were forbidden fruit, unless now and then,—and because I had more pleasure in strolling about among the old melancholy-looking yew trees, or the firs, and picking up the red berries, and the fir apples, which were good for nothing but to look at—or in lying about upon the fresh grass, with all the fine garden smells around me—or basking in the orangery, till I could almost fancy myself ripening, too, along with the oranges and the limes in that grateful warmth—or in watching the dace that darted to and fro in the fish pond, at the bottom of the garden, with here and there a great sulky pike hanging midway down the water in silent state, as if it mocked at their impertinent friskings,—I had more pleasure in these busy-idle diversions than in all the sweet flavors of peaches, nectarines, oranges, and such like common baits of children. Here John slyly deposited back upon the plate a bunch of grapes, which, not unobserved by Alice, he had mediated dividing with her, and both seemed willing to relinquish them for the present as irrelevant. Then, in somewhat a more heightened tone, I told how, though their great-grandmother Field loved all her grand-children, yet in an especial manner she might be said to love their uncle, John L——, because he was so handsome and spirited a youth, and a king to the rest of us; and, instead of moping about in solitary corners, like some of us, he would mount the most mettlesome horse he could get, when but an imp no bigger than themselves, and make it carry him half over the county in a morning, and join the hunters when there were any out—and yet he loved the old great house and gardens too, but had too much spirit to be always pent up within their boundaries —and how their uncle grew up to man’s estate as brave as he was handsome, to the admiration of everybody, but of their great-grandmother Field most especially; and how he used to carry me upon his back when I was a lame-footed boy—for he was a good bit older than me—many a mile when I could not walk for pain;—and how in after life he became lame-footed too, and I did not always (I fear) make allowances enough for him when he was impatient, and in pain, nor remember sufficiently how considerate he had been to me when I was lame-footed; and how when he died, though he had not been dead an hour, it seemed as if he had died a great while ago, such a distance there is betwixt life and death; and how I bore his death as I thought pretty well at first, but afterward it haunted and haunted me; and though I did not cry or take it to heart as some do, and as I think he would have done if I had died, yet I missed him all day long, and knew not till then how much I had loved him. I missed his kindness, and I missed his crossness, and wished him to be alive again, to be quarreling with him (for we quarreled sometimes), rather than not have him again, and was as uneasy without him, as he their poor uncle must have been when the doctor took off his limb. Here the children fell a crying, and asked if their little mourning which they had on was not for uncle John, and they looked up and prayed me not to go on about their uncle, but to tell them some stories about their pretty, dead mother. Then I told them how for seven long years, in hope sometimes, sometimes in despair, yet persisting ever, I courted the fair Alice W——n; and, as much as children could understand, I explained to them what coyness, and difficulty, and denial meant in maidens—when suddenly, turning to Alice, the soul of the first Alice looked out at her eyes with such a reality of re-presentment, that I became in doubt which of them stood there before me, or whose that bright hair was; and while I stood gazing, both the children gradually grew fainter to my view, receding, and still receding till nothing at last but two mournful features were seen in the uttermost distance, which, without speech, strangely impressed upon me the effects of speech: “We are not of Alice, nor of thee, nor are we children at all. The children of Alice call Bartrum father. We are nothing; less than nothing, and dreams. We are only what might have been, and must wait upon the tedious shores of Lethe millions of ages before we have existence, and a name”—and immediately awaking, I found myself quietly seated in my bachelor armchair, where I had fallen asleep, with the faithful Bridget unchanged by my side—but John L. (or James Elia) was gone forever.

perspective

Drew has been in hospital the last few days. Friday he started complaining about severe neck pain and a bad headache, which he handled all weekend, and a low-grade fever to boot. It was pretty worrying, especially as we were in Edinburgh for the bank holiday and I think he pushed himself a bit much. We finally decided to go to A&E Monday night, where he was admitted right away and began treatment & testing for possible meningitis. It was pretty scary. He went through blood tests, an X-ray and a CT scan, which kept coming back negative despite his continued symptoms. He finally had a "lumbar puncture" Tuesday afternoon, which took about 12 hours to test completely.

And it came back negative.

And he was sent home Wednesday morning.

And it's almost like nothing happened.

Except a lot happened-- if nothing else, it has given me yet more perspective. I feel like that's kind of a theme of this term for me. Everything comes back to perspective-- objectivity, knowing when enough is enough, awareness and balance.

I have been so relatively worked up all term about balancing everything-- and achieving the same (or similar) degree of success I had last term. I know I set the bar high for myself but I always want to do as well as I can, and with good scores/feedback, I know what I'm capable of. It has felt hard to achieve this term.

Yet-- something like this helps me realize that I can only do as much as I can do, and sometimes real life is more important. My laryngitis was a similar example. I can study and practice and focus as much as I want, but at the end of the day, if I am ill or if my partner is in the hospital, priorities immediately reorganize. And hopefully, if I've done the work as it comes, when I get back to it, I won't be behind.

I know I can be proud of the work I've done this term and this year. Marks are just a momentary indication of one specific moment in time and, ultimately, don't matter nearly as much as my person.

Certainly takes the pressure off in a nice way heading into the rest of the term!!