CHAPTER 2
Concentration
Let’s suppose you’ve been sitting in the chair for about half an hour doing the Mental Relaxation exercises, and you find that your preoccupation with yourself is becoming unbearable. Perhaps it’s time to concentrate on something else. Most actors will immediately want to escape to a character; they want to start acting. But there are a few steps that should take place before you start adding the distractions of a fictional being. In fact, it’s much better to allow the self free rein, with just a gentle guiding hand and within a tighter sphere of concentration.
Concentration and observation are entwined with each other. In order to concentrate, you need something to focus on. In order to focus on something, you must have observed it first. You have to be aware that something exists, see it, notice it, discover it, investigate it, wonder about it, and care about it enough to focus and turn your concentration on it. What one chooses to focus on, what one chooses to concentrate on, comprises the elements that will make up the playing of a character or part.
Playing a character requires a series of complex choices in any medium, so it’s best to start by investigating the raw material of you and discovering your responses to stimuli. In film acting, once a choice has been made, it must be executed successfully while the camera is rolling, and it must incorporate the moments of surprising discovery that will bring the character to life. The well-thought-out gestures of the theater may appear too large for the screen. They may appear too stagy or rehearsed for the critical eye of the camera, and therefore, not honest. The film audience wants to witness the moments of amazing clarity and brutal honesty that this medium can offer, a private viewing of a slice of life. It may be an extraordinary, unrealistic life, but with a performance that rings true to our human instincts. The continuous performance aspect of theater (starting a performance at the beginning and performing uninterrupted until the end) warrants a certain type of shaping and thought that is not necessary in film. The camera and the director will do the shaping. Also, the difference in distance from which the actor is viewed in the two media, so intensely close and personal in film and at varying degrees of distance depending on the performance space in theater, causes the film actor to be much more concerned with only the moment at hand. The committed theater actor may experience difficulty when adjusting to this concept and lack of control. In film, most of the time, actors are only required to bring truth to their gesture, and for the camera, the gesture must be like a laser: light, small, and extremely powerful.
The gesture originates from acute observation, but one cannot observe everything all at once all the time. A selection must be made. The selection, or choice, becomes the structure in which the focus can direct itself and concentration can begin to take place. The concentration of the actor should be weightless, accessible, easily carried anywhere, and simple to direct toward anything. Yet, this is rarely our impression of concentration, which usually conjures up ideas of heaviness, difficulty, and stillness. If we want to improve our concentration skills, I think it’s best to start by observing how we concentrate.
OBSERVATION
In my acting classes, I try to make the students aware of how much their behavior can be affected by what their preconceived notions are of a word. If I tell them to really concentrate on their breathing, for example, to close their eyes and just concentrate on the breath, they will assume what they believe is the correct body posture and demeanor to indicate a state of intense concentration. Since they all know that they are in an acting class, the indications will be larger and more exaggerated than one might expect. Why this is, I’m not quite sure, but I think it’s because most people think of acting as overexaggerated expressions, very large. Someone has told them to do it that way, so that the audience can really get it in the back row, the “Sing out, Louise” school of acting, which, of course, is totally unnecessary for film.
It is amazing how quickly young actors can transform into old people. In order to carry out the simple task of concentration, almost all of them furrow their foreheads deeply, knit their eyebrows together, and clench their jaws. Their chins invariably get thrust in the air, and strangely enough, very often, their breathing stops for long periods of time and then becomes labored and unnatural. Breathing, which we do all day long, mostly without effort, becomes very difficult to do when we focus all our attention on it, particularly if we are in public, as we are in a class. What is innately easy and second nature becomes difficult. Instead of releasing the tension and allowing the natural flow of things to take place, one tries too hard. One tries either to force it into submission with muscle and will or becomes too passive and blank. Either way is demonstrated by a display of muscular tension, which does not make the situation any easier, nor does it alleviate the problem; it only complicates it. For an actor to succeed in observing either tendency in oneself is the first step in developing the concentration needed for the realm of “public privacy.”
THE OBSERVATION EXERCISE
In many of my classes and workshops, I am not only teaching actors, but also students of directing, cinematography, screenwriting, and animation. I developed this exercise while teaching at the School of Visual Arts in New York City for my first-year students. What this generally means is that they don’t want to be in front of the camera, but in some capacity behind it. They come with the notion that acting is just something that certain types of people do well, and they are not aware that there is any technique or process involved. In my professional workshops, I often encounter people who want to be actors, driven by an inner desire that they have not yet discovered how to unleash, and they, too, are often burdened by the same misconceptions of acting. They experience fear and frustration because they haven’t found the information they need to unlock their talents. I have tried to devise ways that will be easily accessible to anyone to help them discover the necessary techniques involved in the process. Since I believe that observation is key to understanding concentration, I start them off with the following simple exercise as their first assignment. It seems to work very well.
This exercise asks you to do what you do for many hours every day, but within a preset amount of time and with keenly focused observation.
We spend many hours of each day walking or driving from one place to another, shopping or eating out somewhere, in an office or classroom, in an infinite number of places where we come in contact with other people. Many of them are strangers. Our thoughts drift from what we ourselves are doing to a streaming internal commentary on everything around us. We do this shift in thought unconsciously. Now, the idea is to do it consciously.
To frame this exercise, I use a quote of Konstantin Stanislavsky’s from the book Stanislavsky on the Art of the Stage, translated by David Magarshack. This is my favorite of the books by and about Stanislavsky, and I have a dog-eared copy that I have carried around with me for twenty years. Stanislavsky is talking about the stage, but for the purpose of many aspects of acting, the inner workings of the actor are the same. Particularly for young actors, the film set will be their stage, and the rectangle of the frame is like that of the stage. It’s still humans moving within a space; the outward space is different, but the inner space is the same.
Here’s the quote:
One must never think of the theatre as a place for some special sect of dedicated people. One must never look upon it as a place which is divorced from life. All the roads of creative human endeavor lead to a manifestation of life as “all roads lead to Rome.” And the Rome of every man is one and the same; every man carries his entire creative genius within him, and he pours everything out of himself into the broad stream of life.
To focus one’s concentration on the concept that “every man carries his entire creative genius within him, and he pours everything out of himself into the broad stream of life” is very important while doing this exercise. If we can suppose that everyone is worth observing, that through observing the world around us, we may find the way to observing ourselves, then the path to concentration becomes accessible and right in front of us, so to speak.
1. Choose a public place where you can sit undisturbed for a long period of time—a café, coffee shop, bar, park, anywhere there are likely to be many people. It’s best to choose a place where you are not likely to run into people whom you know, only because this is an exercise that you must do alone, without familiar company.
2. Bring a notebook for writing with you, which we’ll call your Journal. The Journal becomes an important tool in this and in many other exercises, because it is easy to forget or reshape after the fact ideas, impressions, and feelings that happen spontaneously. It’s best to write things down uncensored as they happen, and then read and think about them later.
3. Once you’ve settled down in your chosen place, set your watch for one hour. Time is such a strange thing, and our judgment of it depends on how we feel about what we’re doing. Hours can fly by unnoticed, and minutes can seem like hours, so check the clock and stay with it for one hour.
4. Observe the people around you, and write your observations in your Journal. Watch, observe, muse, and write. This is not continuous writing. Most of the time is spent observing.
5. While you are observing others, observe yourself and how you honestly feel at the moment. Start to write down these self-observations in your Journal, as well. Be honest, stay in the moment. Try not to censor yourself.
6. Start by writing about what you see around you or, if you are unable to do that, write about how you feel about doing the exercise, then move it to the observations. Write about the people—who you think they are, where they come from, what they’re doing, or whatever aspects about them interest you. While you are doing this, try to see the creative genius in each person. Don’t forget to include yourself.
Note about the Exercise
You never know how you are going to react to a given situation in a given moment. Try to stay away from prejudgments and old ways of seeing things. Reread the Stanislavsky quote and try to incorporate its message into your process. Encounter your preconception head-on and include your process of discovery about yourself and your surroundings in your Journal.
Remember! This is not a writing exercise, it’s an observation exercise! It’s an exercise of forcing yourself to concentrate on simple truths for one hour. The idea is to write what you are actually thinking. This is much more difficult than you might imagine. Grammar and spelling are not important; neither is complete sentence structure. The only thing that matters is that you write what’s on your mind in the moment-to-moment reality.
7. When your hour is up, close your Journal and go about your life. Don’t read what you’ve written just yet. Wait.
After at least a few hours, pick up your Journal and read it. You should try to be in some surrounding that will enable you to concentrate on your words and read them aloud without causing a problem. Try some of the Mental Relaxation exercises before you begin to read the Journal so you’ll be in touch with yourself a little more. As you read, ask yourself some of the following questions:
• Was I honest, and if I was, how do I feel about it now?
• When I started to feel something, what did I do? Did I investigate the feeling further, or did I quickly move on to something else?
• If someone seemed to notice what I was doing, how did I react?
• Did I go as far as I could have with my observations of my surroundings?
• Was I able to concentrate on the task at hand, or did I “drift” and then find myself lost in my thoughts?
• If and when I did this, did I admit it in writing, or was this self-observation omitted?
• Did I leave myself and my innermost feelings and observations totally out of this exercise? Why did I do that?
• Do I judge people so harshly that I tend to stereotype them, and if that’s true, how would I portray them as an actor?
The answers to the above questions are not important. There is no right or wrong answer; there is only the development of a better question and the strengthening of your ability to ask. The process of developing observation and concentration is like working a muscle; it gets stronger with use. You have set parameters around your concentration by doing this exercise. Within these parameters, you can gauge your own performance and development. Each time you do an exercise, you can go a little bit further into the relaxation and concentration process.
Assessing the Exercise
Now, look at your experience of the exercise. Did you suffer from self-consciousness? Could you see yourself trying to take that sense of self-consciousness and change it to self-discovery, which would lead you to deepening your observation and thereby your concentration?
The Observation exercise is useful to acting, because it places you in a public place doing an activity. Film actors never work separated by the stage from their audience. Film actors are always surrounded by people. On a low-budget film, it may only be a few people, but on a big-budget film, it could be hundreds. Therefore, the concentration must be developed publicly. They are watching you, but not for their own enjoyment. They, too, are working, and their concentration is totally pinned on you while the camera is rolling. The actors’ close proximity to those around them requires a sense of a circle of concentration that is focused and strong, yet relaxed and easy. To sit in a public place while you know you have an agenda enables you to slowly start to become aware of what stops you from simply observing yourself and your surroundings. Also, the act of self-discovery, so exciting to see on the screen, begins to emerge in this simple exercise.
Can you observe when your ability to concentrate wavers and what impedes it? Are you willing to whittle away at the things that stand in your way? I always say it’s like being a sculptor. When Michelangelo ordered the marble for the Pietà and it arrived, did he say, “Oh no, that’s too huge a mass of rock. I’ll never be able to do anything with that!” Well, maybe he did in his mind, but in his studio, he took out his hammer and chisel and began work. He chipped away little piece by little piece, until he was able to liberate the forms from within the solid mass. Actors are like that huge, rough rock of marble, and our hammer and chisel are the focus of our concentration. Little chip by little chip, we liberate the raw stuff of expression within ourselves, which later becomes the characters we play. The communication of this inner expression is realized through concentration, along with the moment-to-moment relaxation process and the use of the senses.
SENSE MEMORY
We observe the world through our senses. We have five (and the much-talked-about sixth sense, which is another matter altogether). Our five senses bring us through the world each day, translating everything that we experience into a language that we understand. Then, through our senses, we are able to communicate back to the world around us.
Our senses have a memory, a ship’s log, of everything we’ve experienced, encapsulated somewhere within. To become aware of the power of that memory and its use in acting is a lifelong pursuit. There are volumes written about sense memory, what it is, and how it should be taught and used. The teachings of Lee Strasberg and Stanislavsky are hotly debated and discussed; I am not going to get embroiled in that here. Certainly, one needs an excellent teacher to learn the complexities of sense memory, but there is a lot that can be done on one’s own to develop and strengthen the use of the senses. If the work appeals to you, you can always start to look for a teacher to take you farther down the path.
First, let’s take a brief look at each sense and how we experience it in our memory. In later chapters, I’ll go into each of the senses and how the sensorial memory can be used in film acting.
Sight: The Sense of Seeing
We see through our eyes and also very strongly in our mind’s eye. If you close your eyes, the act of seeing often continues, with memories, colors, and dreams. Sitting in a chair as in the Mental Relaxation exercise, with your eyes closed, think of different things you know well, which come up spontaneously, and allow the eyes to wander through different places. This will be much like the beginning of the first chapter, where we went through our favorite movie scenes.
Now, take your bedroom at home. This “home bedroom” will mean different things to different people; it may be a place in the present, or it may be one of the past. It doesn’t matter which one it is. The first room that comes into view in your mind’s eye is the right one to use now.
How much of it can you see? If you look at the walls, can you see the pictures on them or the color of the paint or wallpaper? Ask yourself how much better your vision becomes if you focus your concentration onto a specific point or aspect by posing a question. Example: if I turn my mind’s eye to the left wall of my room, what is there? (Obviously, you know what’s there because it’s your room, but turn your focus to the wall anyway and see what your inner concentration shows you.)
Don’t assume you know the answer; allow the vision to reveal to you how much you know. This is key to developing the concentration and the senses. You may be very surprised by what happens when you pose a question and wait to discover the answer. Continue the process with the rest of the room, posing a question, waiting for the answer through what you see. Keep your eyes closed; keep the concentration on the eyes and the process of seeing.
Sound: The Sense of Hearing
Hearing is accomplished by the ears, but unlike sight and our eyes, which we deal with in a more conscious way, hearing and the ears are taken greatly for granted by many people. Unless one is gifted or a trained musician, hearing is done unconsciously most of the time. So, let’s consider the ear and its construction. Try and feel the ear canal and the outer part of the ear, which “catches” the sound. Now, place yourself in the same bedroom at home, still with your eyes closed (it’s easier to concentrate that way; we’ll open them later), and try and hear the sounds of that room. Again, pose questions:
Am I alone in the house? If not, do I hear anyone else? If I look out the window, what do I hear? Does the room have sounds of its own? The water in the pipes, sounds of wind, the window blinds tapping slightly against the wall? If I concentrate on my ears, what do I hear?
Listen to the sounds; feel them in your ears. If your body is relaxed, it will react to the sounds that you hear.
Smell: The Sense of Smelling
We smell things with our nose and the inside of its membranes. The sense of smell has been credited for having the most powerful emotional recall capacities. I don’t know if that’s really true, but from my own experience, I have often found it to be.
In the same room, your bedroom, with your eyes closed, take in a deep breath with all your focus on your sense of smell. As the air comes through your nose, pose the questions: What do I smell? Is there a linden tree blooming outside my window or someone cooking in another room? The lingering scent of someone’s perfume? A distinct smell, which I can’t identify, but that I associate with this place?
Whatever you come up with, you might get flooded by the other senses. Memories or scenarios might appear that charge the concentration with data. Don’t worry about these things now and don’t get sidetracked by them. Stay within the chosen task by asking questions. Acknowledge whatever goes on in your mind and move forward with the concentration on the sense that you are working on.
Taste: The Sense of Tasting
Ahhh! The mouth, tongue, and lips. What a trio! If you take some time out and consider all the functions of this triumvirate while moving your tongue over your lips and within the inside of your mouth, many interesting things may start to happen. Spend some time with this and explore.
The first sensorial taste to introduce should be lemon. It’s a strong taste and causes many reactions within the mouth. Lick the tongue over the lips as if you had just sucked on a juicy lemon. Swallow; investigate the roof of the mouth. Ask questions: What happens to my lips if I taste a lemon? How does my tongue feel? Where do I taste the taste of lemon?
Don’t worry if nothing happens. If you don’t taste the lemon, or for that matter don’t respond to any of the senses in your imagination at this point, remember these are concentration exercises. We are not working for results; we’re just doing inventory. We are moving through our repertoire of stimuli to discover what creates a strong reaction and formulating the necessary structure from which to work our concentration.
Try combining the senses of smell and taste. Think of one of your favorite foods as a child, something associated with where you come from. Now, try to smell its aroma. Even if it’s ice cream, it has a smell. Move from the scent to the taste by moving the sensation around the mouth, tongue, and lips.
Touch: The Sense of Feeling
Touch is an enormous field of experience. The skin, which we are encased in, is the obvious emperor of this sense, but the entire inner organism also experiences feelings, feelings like muscle ache, tickles, indigestion, and heartbeats. At this time, we’ll only be dealing with the skin and, more expressly, the hands. If we stop and think of all the things our hands do, all of the millions of things they have touched and experienced, we will quickly see how vast their work for us has been.
Let’s go back to the same “home bedroom.” You are still sitting in a chair with your eyes closed. Extend one of your hands out into the space before you and imagine that you are touching the covering of your bed. Don’t know beforehand what it will feel like—that is to say, “Oh, now, I’m going to touch that soft, flannel bedspread.” Just let the hand reach into space and, in the mind’s eye, see it gently “touching” the covering on the bed. Then, pose the questions: Where do I feel it on my hand? If I move my hand back and forth lightly, can I feel the texture of the fabric? Am I breathing steadily and fully? If I take a deep breath and relax my shoulders, can I get more sensation from my hand?
Explore the sensation. Bring in the other hand to touch the bed covering. Don’t let the fingers bunch together. Always leave a space between you and your imagination.
THE PROCESS OF RELAXATION,
CONCENTRATION, AND SENSE MEMORY
Many actors begin to work on characters by asking a lot of questions. What should I do? How should I play this? What’s my activity, my action? And so on. All are valid questions, which they will try and answer intellectually and then create behavior that indicates the sum of their answers. However, they have predetermined how the character will act, and this can appear too artificial. Particularly in the case of stage actors, the resulting gestures are often too broad for the camera and the film medium.
For many actors, not knowing the answers to all the questions right away creates a lot of physical and mental tension that blocks their ability to focus the concentration on the more unique aspects of the character. If they were to learn to trust the sense memory, many of the answers they seek would be found, but in an ever-evolving form, brought about by the process of relaxation, concentration, and sense memory.
Film acting is usually quite small and subtle. There’s a gentleness to it that is magnified by the camera. The smallest thought, or change in expression of the eyes, is captured. The actor is often confined to an uncomfortable space during a shot, and a particular scene might be filmed dozens of times in different angles and takes, with the actor repeating essentially the same things over and over again. Often, there is little space in which the actor can move. Each time must appear fresh and real. Theatrical gestures and many choices that one can use on the stage will not do under these circumstances. A smaller gesture, with its origins organically stemming from the actor, is required for this environment.
So, what starts happening when you stop doing these broader gestures and are only left with yourself? At first, it feels like nothing. Nothing is happening. It feels like there is a void. In actuality, that void is the open, fertile, planting fields of your imagination. Here, you drop the sacred seeds of your chosen concentration. It is very difficult to adjust to doing this. It takes courage to reach the point of relaxation wherein you can observe what you must stop doing and allow the space to open up inside, for the unknown possibilities of what at first feels like nothing. This is the beginning of concentration and the acceptance of the fact that you yourself are more than enough to play the part. The void is often associated with the dark, with uncertainty and not knowing what to do next. For a film actor, this is the perfect place to be. This is the beginning of the search. The chosen concentration in the form of sensorial memory is projected into this space like a laser. From this thin ray of light, something organic begins to develop and take over the whole being. It is from this resource that impulses will arise and the development of a character ready to go before the cameras starts to emerge.
This character must be a talking, breathing human being (well, most of the time anyway). It’s time to open our eyes, to start thinking about how the breath and the voice and the text come into this process and affect the relaxation, concentration, and the playing of a part.