Chapter 6
Given Circumstances and Playing the Action
Imagine yourself having one of those actor’s nightmares, but not the usual fare, where you find yourself naked on stage or alone with no idea what you’re supposed to be saying. No, in this one you have the entire script memorized. The problem is, there are only four lines of dialogue in the script. The two characters, of whom you are one, say “hello” to each other and then “good-bye.” And that’s it. That’s the whole play—at least as written. A pretty short play, you’re no doubt thinking, but worse, it’s also a play with no plot, characterization, or point. Yet there you are, standing under the lights, with an audience that has paid fifty bucks a ticket waiting for you to entertain and enlighten them. So what do you do?
In Chapter 5, we discussed the need for finding conflict and using objectives to make sense of a script and to guarantee that your work will be clear and compelling. However, as I also pointed out, conflict and objectives only serve the actor who has a clear idea of what goes on in the playwright’s script. In your nightmare, no such information is available; the four lines of dialogue offer no specific information about the circumstances of the play. So what do you do?
If your answer is “Make them up,” then your nightmare is coming to an end.
In any improvisational situation, the players quickly decide on a few given circumstances and use them as the starting point for creating a dramatic situation. You’ve probably seen comic improvisational groups, either live or on television, operate in just this manner. Check out reruns of “Whose Line Is It Anyway?” and you’ll quickly know just what I mean. In both the British and the American version, the host will usually ask the audience for suggestions, and, after selecting the most appealing ones, the performers begin to play, using those selected given circumstances as their guidelines. The audience’s suggestions about the characters to be played, their relation to each other, the situation, the location, and the time give the players enough material to create a dramatic or very comic event.
The instantly created given circumstances for an improvisation are not unlike the given circumstances gleaned from a script when preparing a play for production. Any set of given circumstances requires the actor to discover the who, what, when, and where of the play overall and of its individual scenes. Until all of the given circumstances are determined, an actor would be hard pressed to make acting choices that serve the play and the characters in it. Further, unless all actors are in agreement about those given circumstances, the choices they make can turn out to be inconsistent, unclear, and ultimately confusing, even unbelievable.
EXERCISE 6-1
1. Do an improvisational scene with a partner. Do not discuss any of the circumstances before beginning. Describe the experience.
2. Do an improvisational scene with a partner, this time discussing the given circumstances before beginning. Compare the two experiences.
3. With a partner, select and read a scene from a play you have not read before. Don’t discuss the circumstances of the play until after you have read the scene. Describe the experience.
4. Discuss the scene you chose for Step 3, making decisions about the who, what, when, and where of the scene. When both of you are in agreement as to the details of the scene, read it together again. Was this reading different? Was this one better? Why?
Once decisions have been made about or interpreted from a script, the given circumstances become the catalyst for creating a compelling dramatic story. Suppose, for instance, that in the nightmare that began this chapter, you decide that you are a character not unlike Jeremy Cleary, the son from Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa’s Dark Matters. Years before the action, Jeremy was selected by aliens to intermix with them and form a colony on a faraway planet. In the hello/goodbye scenario, the other speaking character is the alien who will eventually take him from earth. (This character information is the who). Now suppose, after a long and frustrating string of unsuccessful searches, the alien has encountered Jeremy face-to-face. Jeremy, in turn, has been waiting a very long time for this first moment of actual connection and is not sure any longer that he wants to go. (This background story information is the what). Suppose this encounter takes place in the present in the middle of the night in the middle of winter. (This time information is the when). And, finally, suppose this encounter happens in the mountains near Green Bank, Virginia, where temperatures drop considerably at night and wind and fog impede hearing and visibility. (This location information is the where).
Obviously, this set of given circumstances provides the limited dialogue of the play with many possibilities that did not exist before. In fact, those hellos and good-byes now stand like bookends between which dwells an encyclopedia of dramatic potential. Suppose you are playing Jeremy, for a moment, and you realize this is no ordinary “hello” situation. Rather, it is the meeting of a lifetime. In acting terms the stakes are high, the situation climactic. Your years of speculation and obsession about being spied on and controlled by an alien are about to end. How do you feel? More importantly, how would you behave? For actors willing to find it, “The truth is out there,” as Fox Mulder from the X-Files would have said, and that truth can all be found in the given circumstances. Yet, so far, you have used only the who and the what.
You can find further amplifications by thinking about the when and the where of the situation. The time—the middle of the night—suggests many things that you can turn into useful acting choices. On the simplest level, it’s difficult to see at night. The fact that few people will be out and about might affect your sense of security. If you feel unsafe, what things might you do? Things seem less real, more frightening at night. How might that inform your behavior?
The mountains at night in winter are cold. This certainly can affect the choices you make physically and can provide obstacles that you can play against. What would you do to avoid freezing, for instance? And the fog potentially adds several more obstacles that, in turn, can provide wonderful dramatic possibilities. Is the swirling mist playing tricks on your eyes? Is the noise generated by the wind interfering with your ability to hear accurately? Maybe it’s not a spaceship you hear at all, but just the wind howling. How can the questions raised by these circumstances manifest themselves through your actions? What things can you choose to do physically that will help define the situation for the audience and give you actions to play?
Before you tackle the issues raised in the previous section, you must consider one more very important thing. Remember, even though it is you, the actor, executing the choices you decide on, it is not quite you in the situation described. It is the character you are playing. Therefore, you must ask yourself a critically important question before you proceed: What would you do if you were this character in this set of circumstances? We call this question the “magic if,” and your answer to it could result in a completely different set of actions than the ones you might choose as yourself. The term action refers to both physical actions (the things you physically do) and psychological actions (the choices you make in order to pursue and obtain what you need). Note that what you might do as yourself may be far different than what Jeremy Cleary might do. His personality is probably very different from yours in the same way that yours is very different from that of your best friend or sibling. No two people necessarily behave in the same way under a particular set of given circumstances. Every character in a drama or in life has his own set of characteristics and behavior patterns that are unique, yet somewhat predictable—once they have been properly analyzed.
EXERCISE 6-2
1. Select an ordinary activity, something you do regularly. Engage in the activity fully and specifically in the manner you would ordinarily do it in real life. Activities might include reading the paper, listening to music, tying a shoe, or drinking a beverage.
2. Select someone you know well—a friend, a family member, even someone famous (provided you do not do a caricature). Engage in the activity you did in Step 1, but do it as that other person would do it. How were the activities different? Be specific.
3. Select a favorite character from a novel. Engage in the activity from Step 1 as the character by using the “magic if.” Perform the activity. Discuss the results. Justify your choices.
4. Participate in an imaginary group shower with several members of your class. Make it a communal shower, one in which there are several showerheads but only one shared area. Create the given circumstances, and play the situation as believably as possible. Play the scene as yourself. Keep in mind the magic if.
5. Consider and then play the following variations of the imaginary group shower:
Grammar-school kids of both sexes
Old people of both sexes
Teenagers of both sexes
People in their thirties and forties of both sexes
Married couples in their thirties and forties
We discussed discovering a character’s needs or objectives by determining the story’s conflicts in Chapter 5. Jeremy both needs and fears making contact with the alien being. He has spent his childhood looking for such an opportunity, yet now is determined to keep from going. But all the things we learn about a dramatic character from our reading and viewing must eventually be translated into tangible actions, because physical actions are by far the clearest way to communicate thoughts and feelings. Asking the “magic if,” once your character analysis is underway, could end your acting nightmares forever.
It was Constantin Stanislavski who invented the “magic if,” and that essential question works like a master key, unlocking every acting door. Focusing on what you would do as the character, after you consider what your character needs, is the cornerstone of clear, compelling acting. It not only makes acting controllable and repeatable, but it also guarantees that the internal life of the character you are playing reads to an audience. It is the audience, after all, for whom you are working. Playing emotions directly, as many beginning actors attempt to do, does not necessarily tell the story of the character or of the play, and emotions are certainly not reliable tools to depend on.
If the actor’s primary job is to tell the story of the play, then he or she is responsible for telling it moment by moment, beat by beat, and scene by scene. Actors are the principal medium through which a good story is told on stage or in film. Everyone, from the playwright to the director to the audience, relies on the actors to move the plot forward as well as to reveal the inner workings of their characters. If the play is to work, this must be accomplished with imagination, clarity, and simplicity.
In addition, if the story of the play is to unfold with dramatic precision, the actors must perform these physical actions through a logical, step-by-step sequence. So let’s go back to the four-line nightmare play at the beginning of this chapter and apply some of the concepts discussed in the last two sections. Since the conflict, objectives, and given circumstances (the who, what, when, and where) are now clarified, and we have asked ourselves about the “magic if,” we are ready to continue. Here is a score of physical actions that, when put together step by step, might tell the story of Jeremy’s encounter with the alien—simply, clearly, and compellingly. Note that this score is for Jeremy only. The alien character’s score is the other actor’s responsibility. You might try executing the following score of actions in order to determine if this is an effective way of working.
Physical Action Score—Jeremy Cleary
Beginning
Pace with arms crossed and hands on opposite arms.
Pace while rubbing opposite arms.
Stop pacing.
Look at watch.
Bring watch arm closer to eyes.
Read time.
Put arm down.
Rub arms.
Pace.
Stop pacing.
Stand still.
Tilt head in direction of sound.
Slowly move toward sound.
With hand, flick air in front of eyes.
Stop moving, squint eyes.
Put hands with fingers spread in front of eyes.
Move toward sound again, bending forward as if against a strong wind.
Stop.
Stare with hands still protecting eyes.
Slowly drop hands from eyes.
Middle
Slowly straighten body until upright.
Rub eyes.
Rub mouth.
Blink several times.
Rub mouth.
Lift right hand slowly as if in greeting.
Say “hello.”
Slowly smile.
Tilt head as if listening.
Periodically nod slightly but affirmatively several times while head remains tilted.
Slowly and strongly nod one time.
Raise hand as if in farewell.
Say “good-bye.”
Sigh.
Ending
Continue looking.
Squint.
Tilt body forward.
Move forward a few paces.
Protect eyes with hands.
Slowly move head upward until head is almost straight up.
Lift hand as if in good-bye.
Slowly bring head to normal position.
Drop hands.
Slowly drop to ground by bending knees.
Bring hands toward face while bending head toward lap.
If you read this physical action score without attempting to execute it, you probably still picked up the story. If you actually marked through the physical actions listed, you probably got a pretty good sense not only of what the character was doing but also of what he was thinking and feeling. So would an audience. Rubbing your eyes and wiping your mouth, in the context of this situation, suggest thoughts and emotions, respectively. Nodding your head suggests a telepathic conversation. Dropping to your knees is a powerful climactic gesture, while collapsing your head into you lap clearly relays to an audience the tumultuousness of your experience.
Notice the layout of Jeremy’s score. The actions are divided into a beginning section, a middle section, and an ending section. This division suggests the storytelling properties of the score. The beginning section sets up the major plot elements and the conflict. The score establishes that waiting is more than a passive action. The waiting involves actively searching for the alien as well as overcoming the obstacles created by the given circumstances. These obstacles include the difficulty of seeing at night, the challenges presented by the wind, and the coldness of the mountains at night. The beginning section ends at a major transitional moment—when Jeremy actually sees the alien. This is conveyed by the action of the slowly dropped hands. The anticipation and waiting are over.
The middle section covers the heart of the plot up to and including the climax. It is about sharing, communicating, and overcoming one’s fear of the unknown. The head nodding clearly demonstrates that telepathic communication is occurring and that Jeremy is agreeing to the things the alien has to say. The final big affirmative nod suggests that the communication is complete and Jeremy’s concerns have been addressed in a way that he can deal with. Sharing information is usually considered to be a weak acting objective, one that creates little conflict; but it is effective in this situation because of the extraordinary circumstances of this encounter. Again, because of the given circumstances, the good-bye gesture following the contact becomes an extremely powerful and climactic physical action. It tells us that Jeremy no longer feels hunted.
The ending section represents the falling action following the actual encounter. It is about Jeremy’s realization that his nightmare is over. The conflict is resolved now, but the character still has to process the extraordinary event. Before he can do that, however, he needs to hold on to what just happened for as long as possible. The physical actions of watching the alien ship lift off into the night sky and making the final good-bye gesture accomplish that part of the story. When the vessel is gone, Jeremy’s dropping to his knees makes clear the dramatic power the encounter has had on him.
If, while you played out the physical action score, you committed yourself to the situation by keeping in mind the given circumstances and your acting objectives, you probably discovered that your playing generated seemingly real emotional responses. Since you knew what the situation was, your body, mind, and emotion played along. With a few repetitions of the physical action score, you’ll probably discover that the emotions you generate seem no less real than those of an actual experience.
As you continue to work, you may also discover that other physical actions should be added to the score to convey more specifically what you are thinking and feeling or to enhance the story. Good. Add them. Your job is to tell the best possible story while serving the script. You might also discover that some of the physical actions on my list do not serve you well because they are not clear for you, or that you can think of other actions that would work better than mine. That, too, is fine. Change them. Working on a play or scene is not like a math test. You don’t need to find all the answers immediately. Preparing your work is a process of discovery, of trial and error. Enjoy, and be challenged by the process.
In point of fact, the scene above is not in the actual play, Dark Matters. What happens between the aliens and Jeremy is never made clear. At the end of the play, we know that he is gone, but we don’t know where for certain. For the purposes of the exercise, I have created the situation. Had we been given further information about the relationship between Jeremy and his alien encounter, other choices might have been more appropriate for the physical action score. Given circumstances always determine chosen actions.
EXERCISE 6-3
Write and execute a physical action score that clearly tells the story of the alien in this encounter with Jeremy Cleary. Be sure to consider the “magic if” as well as the given circumstances from the alien’s point of view. Also, determine the alien’s specific objective in this scene, and keep it in mind as you develop your score. Rehearse and perform your score for your class.
A detailed physical action score can be a very effective device for creating clear and compelling work on the stage. It is important that you master this skill, because it will help you develop your craft. Ultimately, not every actor works in this fashion. Some actors develop a physical action score through trial and error during the rehearsal process. This physical action score comes as a result of working with other actors in the scene and following the advice of the director. The markings you make in your script while rehearsing reflect this process. Some actors create a physical action score on their own and then adapt it according to what is going on in the scene—once the director’s suggestions, the set, and other characters’ choices become clear. Whatever process you use, remember that the mastery of physical actions is an essential acting tool.
How can you develop your ability to use physical actions? The best way is by practicing with them. If you are currently working on a play in rehearsal, or if you are working on a scene from a play in your acting class, you could use that play to provide the source material for creating your own nonverbal scene. From The Glass Menagerie, for example, what might be Laura’s preparation for going to the business school she desperately wants to avoid? What might it be like for Tom to read a newspaper or magazine detailing the exciting adventures of others? What might Jim, the gentleman caller, do while dressing to succeed? What might Amanda do during her private moments away from her children? Remember, the purpose of creating your physical action score is to tell an interesting and enlightening story about your character that also serves the play.
EXERCISE 6-4
1. Imagine a scene not specifically in the play you’re working on. Based on that scene, create a physical action score for the character you are playing. It could be a scene alluded to in the script or one not mentioned in the play at all. It could also be a nonverbal section of the play—one that might have more meaning than the script seems to suggest. Make sure, however, that the scene you create somehow adds to what the audience knows about the story or character.
2. Write out a specific physical action score for your scene based on the Dark Matters example. Be sure the physical action score has a beginning, a middle, and an end.
3. Rehearse and perform the physical action score.
Another useful exercise to develop your abilities with physical choices is to turn an emotion into a tangible, controllable, and repeatable series of actions. For example, you might select the emotion of frustration. A series of actions involving trying to thread a needle—a series that builds toward a climax of frustration because you are unable to complete your objective—could make an entertaining comic or dramatic story. You get the idea.
EXERCISE 6-5
1. Select an emotional state or condition, and create a story that could make clear that emotion. Remember, emotions should not be played directly. Your job as the actor is to tell the story. Be sure to consider the given circumstances very specifically.
Possible emotional states: anger, jealousy, hate, love, lust, boredom, disdain, fear, nervousness, shyness, embarrassment, tranquillity, ecstasy, agony, insecurity, panic, affection, exhaustion, tiredness, amazement, fascination, carefulness, obsessiveness, spitefulness, happiness, shock.
2. Once you have developed the story, create a physical action score with a beginning, a middle, and an end that will tell the story clearly. The score should structure the sequence of actions in such a way that the audience understands the emotion through the story that suggests it.
3. Perform your physical action score.
Here is a variation of Exercise 6-5.
EXERCISE 6-6
Put yourself in a specific situational setting, and then assign yourself an emotion. Try to create a story that makes clear the emotion by creating a series of physical actions that will make that emotion tangible for you and for the audience. Be sure there is a conflict to work through. The more specific you are about the given circumstances, the clearer and more specific your physical choices will be.
Possible situational settings: staring out a window, exercising on the floor, waiting by a telephone, staring at a letter, repairing something, packing or unpacking a bag, searching for something, looking into the distance, looking at some photos, reading a magazine, channel surfing, putting on nail polish, getting dressed, getting undressed, waking up, hearing something, perusing something, looking in a mirror.
It is essential that actors know the given circumstances of any acting situation. It is also essential that they understand the conflict and their characters’ needs in the play, in the scene, and in every moment. They must consider the “magic if” in order to stay on course. But remember: Except for dialogue, it is only through actors’ specific physical choices (physical actions) that these circumstances, thoughts, and needs are communicated to an audience. If actors find ways to physicalize the story that is unfolding, without clouding it with unnecessary forced emotion, their work will be clear and interesting. And the story will get told.
Let’s say you have rehearsed the physical action score above and have presented it in class. Your teacher tells you that even though the story was clear, she did not believe your work as Jeremy. You didn’t seem scared enough, she says. You didn’t seem to be responding believably to the peril you were in. Maybe this is the very teacher who has told you time and again to play actions, not emotions. What do you do? You have never even believed in aliens, let alone been confronted by one, and you were just not able to feel scared when you rehearsed the scene or presented it. You were busy focusing on things like your objective and on the physical actions you decided to carry out. It may be time for an “as if.”
An “as if,” as I will be using it here, is a tool used by actors to find specific believable actions to execute in a scene—actions that might not otherwise occur to you. When you can come up with and explore a personal experience that is similar to the circumstances found in the script, you are using an “as if.” If you really trace what you did and how you carried out all the specifics from that “as if,” you may be able to extract specific actions to play and how to play them for the scene you are currently working on. Further, the “as if” may enable you to find this truthful behavior and avoid playing generalization and clichés.
Note, however, that an “as if” is not intended to be a substitution. It is not something you should be thinking about instead of an objective. Rather, it is a device by which you can find the actions to play and the manner in which to play them. It is intended to be a rehearsal tool only. It should not be taking you away from listening and reacting in the moment once you are actually performing your work.
One more thing here, in terms of action-based acting. A basic precept of the outside-in approach is that the appropriate emotion should and mostly will follow the playing of the appropriate action with commitment. Say in a moment of frustration I choose as my character to bang my open hand on a table. If I commit to that physical action in the circumstances of the play, I will probably feel something like frustration. But I am not focusing on the feeling; I am focusing on the action I am playing in the situation. The emotion follows the action. In sports, for instance, we focus on sinking the basket or making contact with the ball. We play the action, and, if we sink the shot or hit the pitch, the emotion follows on its own. That’s what action-based acting is all about. We pursue our objectives until we win or fail to do so. We play our actions in order to get what we need.
But given circumstances can make all that a bit trickier, especially when those circumstances require an actor to deal with emotional conditions such as in the case above. Nevertheless, what we do and how we do it must always be considered in conjunction with the given circumstances. And if fear is part of the given circumstances, then you are obligated to come up with choices that reflect those circumstances. It still follows that if we find the actions and play them as a person in peril might, then the appropriate feelings will follow. But even if they don’t, the audience will likely not know the difference, since they mostly know what we’re thinking and feeling through what we physically show them through our actions. And we choose and execute those actions well, then the audience should believe in the emotions behind those well-chosen actions, even if we don’t feel them.
Exercises 6-1 through 6-6 offer opportunities to work on the basics you need in every acting situation. So, what are you waiting for? Let’s have some action!
EXERCISE 6-7
1. With a partner, rehearse a scene that begins with “hello” and ends with “good-bye.” Fill in the rest of the scene using only physical actions, no additional dialogue. Be sure that the story is a good one. All given circumstances should be made clear through what you and your partner do.
2. Watch a video of Rowan Atkinson as Mr. Bean or of another comic who brilliantly creates a story without dialogue. Study how these silent masters accomplish their work. Discuss what you see.
3. Create a silent story of your own. Make the laughs come out of the situation. Don’t try to be funny. Play the scene.
4. Select a favorite character from a play or novel. Write out a physical action score for that character—one that will reveal who the character is. Perform the score.
5. Select a well-known work of art by a famous artist. Write a physical action score in which you examine this work of art at a museum. Rehearse your score. Use no dialogue in the exercise. Your goal is to make clear both the artist and the work of art by creating a series of actions that will reveal them to an audience. (Hint: Think of Seurat [pointillism] or Van Gogh [thick swatches of paint]. Be sure to make choices about the given circumstances and the “magic if” before you begin your score. Your job is to tell a clear and compelling story through what you do physically.
Acting out the story of the play requires that actors not only discover and play their conflicts and objectives fully but also that they be aware of the given circumstances—the who, what, when, and where of the play, the scene, and the moment. Only then will the choices they make best serve the story. Further, it is not enough that these choices be believable; an actor must be certain that each choice clearly reflects the character he or she is playing. Physical actions, the things a character literally does, can reveal what a character is thinking and feeling. These physical actions reveal as much to an audience as does the dialogue a character speaks. Actors must learn to select and use physical actions as a means of making clear their every moment. Both the “magic if” and “as if”s can help an actor find physical actions that will be believable and compelling, and that forward the story being told.