This week we saw Frankenstein, based on Mary Shelley's novel, at the National in the Olivier Theatre (same place where a couple of us saw Hamlet). Unlike Shelley's work, the stage adaptation centered on the physical development of the creature (Benedict Cumberbatch). The first ten minutes of the work were focused entirely on the birth and environmental acclimation of the creature, causing me to wonder if the piece was a dance instead of a play. Throughout the play, the physicality of the creature was remarkable, extending to the development of his voice and supported by some of the set pieces (ie. there was a pole leaning against the side of the stage which the creature could climb up and slide down at various points, which accentuated that he was still inhuman...). One could not help but admire the almost flawless concentration of Benedict Cumberbatch. The rest of the production had its flaws: choppy script, false/screechy acting of the father and Elizabeth, overly elaborate set, lack of a cohesive conclusion...in any case, I thought that Benedict Cumberbatch carried the production admirably. A surprising feature of the show was that Benedict Cumberbatch switches roles with Jonny Lee Miller, who plays Frankenstein, every night. It would surely be an entirely different experience to watch the show with their roles switched.
Group C has a new High Comedy teacher, Annabel Leventon! She is fantastic so far. As we have delved deeper into our roles in William Congreve's Love for Love, she has offered pointed, constructive advice to each of us on our characters and our habits as actors. I have two characters. My smaller role, Jeremy, is a manservant to Valentine, a "spendthrift prodigal gallant". Accordingly, he is graced with a pot-belly, aging, and begrudgingly subservient (in other words, quite a lot of fun to explore physically and vocally). My primary role, Miss Prue, is a "silly, awkward, country girl." Although she would probably be played with a Yorkshire accent in a professional theatre, Annabel suggested that we use American Southern accents to develop our characters in a location that we are more familiar with than the English country. Although so far I am primarily struck by the lameness of my country drawl, I think the exercise will help me develop my range as an actress and be a lot of fun too! Everyone else in the class seems to enjoy Annabel as well, which is very refreshing after the general wealth of negativity toward Eunice--I think we will be helpful to each other in learning as much as possible. My only concern is that I have a lot to memorize!
Our end-of-semester plays are going to be Much Ado About Nothing and an adaptation of Jane Eyre! I'm really excited! My only frustration is that everyone is already pre-casting the show, in addition to worrying about audition pieces (which I find somewhat more understandable). We have no idea what the directors' visions of the plays are and we only psych ourselves out by inevitably casting ourselves out of the plays...we all, of course, will be cast. Of course I'd love to get a lovely, large role, but if I am cast in a small role, I hope to see that as an opportunity too, if not to delve more specifically into a character, then to have more time to explore what London has to offer.
We had our first master class this week, led by Henry Goodman. Among other experiences, he trained at RADA and performed as Dromio in the RSC's production of Comedy of Errors. All thirty-something BADA students were present. For the majority of the class, Henry had all of us on our feet doing various games and exercises to increase our awareness and availability to the work and each other. At first we were all in a circle patting the person on the right or the left three times, always in different spots, on his clap. Then we were in a position of readiness, prepared to jump into a very specific seated squat instantaneously on his cue. After this, we paired up three times with three different partners to do an awareness exercise that demonstrated the range of sensitivity required to interact with others. What does it mean to just be open to someone else coming into your space? We are always feeling something. When do we think we're feeling something and really feel it and when do we think we're feeling something but truly only wish we're feeling it? Henry wanted us to connect with the reality that within every actor there is a peacock, a person who thinks that he or she is fucking amazing and brilliant and absolutely watchable, and a real person who recognizes that he or she is lost and vulnerable. Both are necessary aspects of the actor, but the real person is much more interesting to watch than the peacock. We can all be peacocks, but very few of us can truly be vulnerable to others, especially to an audience of people we have never met before.
Acting in and of itself is founded on human connection. This connection must be founded on a basis of truth or it is superficial, like most daily human interactions. The "Hi. How are you?" that many of us say numerous times a day is generally answered with "ok" or "good" that touches only the surface of actual feeling. My most sincere conversations are generally prefaced by several minutes of this "surface talk." Acting does not allow for this luxury, but, thankfully, practice helps personal truth to surface more easily, because awareness increases facilitation. Good acting is the interaction of different truths. There is a basic trust that is required in this awareness, a trust that something will surprise you in what you discover every time you speak the truth. And perhaps, if God is truth, then what I'm really searching for is a little bit of God in everyone. I don't know.
More photos! (From Tate Modern trip a couple weeks back...)
(Upper Right: Henri Matisse, André Derain; Lower Right: Clyfford Still, 1953; Upper Left: Lee Krasner, Gothic Landscape 1953; Lower Left: Claude Monet, Water-Lilies)
