Most actors feel deep down that they have better things to do than make every single word mean something; after all, we speak the same language, don’t we? And so long as you can gather from “O what a rogue and peasant slave am I” that Hamlet is deeply upset about something, the audience will pick up enough of the text to follow what’s going on... and that leaves room for lots of lovely acting...
DIRECTOR: Would you please recite “Mary Had A Little Lamb?”
ACTOR: “Mary had a little lamb / Its fleece was white as snow / And everywhere that Mary went / The lamb was sure to go.”
DIRECTOR: Once again, please. And this time I’ll stop you when I’m not sure I understand.
ACTOR: “Mary had...”
DIRECTOR: Who had?
ACTOR: MARY. “MARY had a little lamb...”
DIRECTOR: She still has it?
ACTOR: Yes.
DIRECTOR: So it’s, “Mary HAS a little lamb?”
ACTOR: No. “Mary HAD a little...”
DIRECTOR: Who had?
ACTOR: “MARY HAD a little lamb...”
DIRECTOR: A medium lamb?
ACTOR: “A LITTLE lamb...”
DIRECTOR: A little what?
ACTOR: “A LITTLE LAMB...”
DIRECTOR: From the beginning, please.
ACTOR: “MARY HAD a LITTLE LAMB / Its fleece was white...”
DIRECTOR: Fleece is dull, soggy?
ACTOR: No, springy.
DIRECTOR: All again, please.
ACTOR: “MARY has a LITTLE LAMB...”
DIRECTOR: Has it now?
ACTOR: “MARY HAD a LITTLE LAMB / Its FLEECE was white...”
DIRECTOR: Fairly clean?
ACTOR: “WHITE as SNOW...”
And so on.
The effect of The What Game is like the cleaning of an old picture: it shows what treasures lie concealed.
The actors detest it to begin with. “I suppose you want me to punch every word?”
“Well, it’s better than mumbling half of them.”
Quickly, though, they see the value of it. Pace and common sense will take care of overemphasis.
The game has the added advantage that actors can also play it (silently or openly) with each other.