Shakespeare
wrote plays to be performed, and their meanings cannot be revealed in
all their subtlety and drama unless they are explored on a stage by
actors and directors who wish above all, to hold the mirror up to
nature.It
is no good looking to academics for the meaning of the text or
analysis of characters. The plays do not respond to mere study in a
study, no matter how erudite and donnish the reader. To successfully
stage a Shakespeare play, a director and actors must engage in
putting together a contextual jigsaw. The text demands an interplay
between textual analysis, strong and accurate characterisation, and
actors in the rehearsal room really speaking the lines to each other
as they would in real life. These elements continually inform each
other in creating a scene that is authentic to the script. Like a
jigsaw, the pieces don’t all go in at once. You understand how they
fit together gradually, sometimes by seeing what other pieces have
created when joined together. However much an actor or director
sieves the script for clues to character and subtextual meaning, some
things will only become apparent in rehearsal. When one or more of
the above elements goes awry, so does the play. How often have I seen
a Shakespeare play that I know well and have struggled to follow a
single line that the actors are saying? Too often for the comfort of
my behind.
Characterisation.
Accuracy
in the portrayal of Shakespearean characters is essential to get at
what is really going on, and present the drama and theatricality of
his work. Get it wrong and the other characters in the play will be
diminished or won’t work either. Fail to bring out Costard’s
cunning and chicanery in Love’s Labour’s Lost for instance, and
the letter scenes will become inexplicable and the play will seem a
bewildering mess.
In
some part the work an actor does in building a character is sieving
the script for clues as to whom and what they are to portray. There
are obvious difficulties in this with a Shakespearean play – the
archaic language and vast changes in social mores over the course of
four-hundred years can render certain characters difficult to grasp.
Some roles are burdened with the weight of history. Characters such
as Juliet or Hamlet have been performed so many times in
a certain way, it
can be hard to see them any differently. For me, it’s clear that
Juliet is feisty, not soppy. Hamlet is clearly wrestling with
cowardice, not madness.
But
more of a problem, I think, is that Shakespeare’s characters are
big.
They demand a courageous approach and many actors are reluctant to
meet this challenge because they dislike changing themselves to the
extent required. You’d think changing oneself would be a first base
for those entering the acting profession. Actors are, after all,
rarely going to play themselves. A young woman who doesn’t like
sounding gruff, frowning and strutting assertively about, isn’t
going to make much of a fist of Rosalind from As
You Like It.
Because Rosalind loves the cross dressing. But most Rosalind's seem
to duck a serious attempt at masculinity. If the actress can’t
easily go there, and if the actor playing Orlando doesn’t on some
level believe she’s a bloke, much of the subtext will remain
hidden. There
will be far less meaning to play with.
The stronger and more accurate the characterisation, the more the
subtext will be laid bare.
But
perhaps the strongest reason that there is such a fumbling in
Shakespearean characterisation is that many of the clues as to who
and what the character are, are buried deep in-between
the lines. In the interplay between the dramatis personae that only
becomes apparent when acted out. In As You Like It, for instance, the
character of Touchstone is actually formed from what Rosalind and
Celia say and do as much as by what the clown himself says. This is
hard to pick up from a mere reading. Almost impossible in fact. It is
only in trying to make the lines and characters add up as a whole
that Touchstone’s complicated and very touchy status problems and
the relationship with his employers and court, become clear, thereby
setting up his trajectory through the play and the comedy he is to
act out in the forest of Arden – where he lives out his dream of
being a Lord and Gentleman. This is what makes him funny. This is why
he is a clown. The ability of the actors playing Celia and Rosalind
to get an accurate handle on their roles is therefore essential for
the actor playing Touchstone to achieve an understanding of who the
clown is and what he is about.
Hamlet’s
terrified dithering over stabbing Claudius between the shoulder
blades as the King kneels in prayer is not overtly apparent in the
script at that point. The reasons he lists for not killing Claudius
are nearly always played straight. But they are nothing of the sort.
The real reason Hamlet dare not kill Claudius is he is too scared of
him. He knows he should
do
it, but doesn’t want to admit the real reason for not doing it:
that he is a young man, not given to violence, attempting to kill the
large psychotic warrior hulk of his Uncle. If Claudius hears him
approach in that bloody game of Grandmother’s footsteps, with a
sword drawn, then Hamlet’s question of To
be or not to be
will be answered quite likely with a very painful NOT. All the clues
for this are laid much earlier in the script, and are most likely to
be uncovered by a good actor really believing in the ghost and the
likely reactions of a young man in Hamlet’s predicament.
Meaning
what you say,
In
modern plays, a director might get away with actors offering
technical performances – ie: which are repeated, but not re-lived.
Purely technical actors are often marvellous at performing and
re-performing an exact replica of a show. It means that whilst the
first time they enacted a certain motivation, it worked, because they
meant it, in re-creating a copy of this night after night, they stop
meaning it very quickly and are left with a shell that feels stagey,
acted and unreal. This holds up the mirror to the unnatural, but an
audience may not notice, as an actor can appear natural alot more
easily when they are speaking in a modern idiom. Discoveries about
the text will be harder to come by once the actor has set their
performance in this thespianic quick-drying cement, but few modern
plays have the subtectual complexity of Hamlet or King Lear, so
perhaps not so much will be lost. Shakespeare however, sorts the
players from those who are merely playing. What do I mean by meaning
what you say?
I would tell an actor: simply, deliver lines as you would say them in
real life, given the character and context of the scene. You’re not
going to say: Cry
God for Harry, England and Saint George
in conversational English. The actor has to believe they really are a
medieval King besieging a castle in France, and stirring troops to
storm the walls. Then shout the words just as they would in the real
situation and really mean them. Believe the situation, mean what you
say. And always
mean it.
Don’t copy what you did on the performance of the previous evening,
because it worked then. The motivation: that you are trying to stir
troops to attack a breach in a wall, will always be the same, but the
way that comes out will, if you mean it, be
different every time.
For instance, I enter the door of my house just about every day. My
motivation as I take out the key is often, christ,
let’s get inside and sit down with a cup of tea! Yet
I bet I have never entered my door the same way twice. To always mean
what you say, an actor must continually throw away the manner in
which they have previously said something. If they don’t, they will
stop meaning what they say. They’ll probably do different actions
as well. This throwing away of previous performances is an act of
courage, and demands that the actors knows the lines very well.
Meaning
what you say, is a cornerstone of the actor’s craft. I used to call
this truth.
But truth is more ambiguous than the phrase: mean
what you say. The
actor must, in the moment of delivery (the NOW), absolutely believe
in what is happening to find a real motivation for the line so that
it will come out with authenticity and meaning.
Playing
opposite another person it is important, when trying to build a
character and fathom the subtext of a scene, that an actor really
speaks to the other characters from inside their own. Really mean it,
and the other actor is more likely to authentically respond. How this
is received will, in turn, shape the meaning of the reply. Follow
this process through and it will inform the characters, each scene
(and ultimately the entire play). Meaning what you say unravels
meaning and character in an exciting and fluid exploration that
brings the text to life in a way that is compelling to the audience.
It
is vital in this process that actors take their time. In Shakespeare
especially, an actor needs time to motivate; for to mean what you
say, you must first find a genuine motivation to say it. Say a line
before
you
have the motivation and you might just as well have not said it. Your
mouth has whizzed off on a motor bike but left the sidecar of meaning
behind.
This
notion may seem to go against the modern orthodoxy of Pace!
Pace! Pace! But
audiences are usually transfixed when an actor means every utterance.
When there is authenticity to an actor’s performance, pace becomes
an irrelevance. Moreover, an audience cannot be with and experience
what is happening onstage if the actor is rattling through scenes
like an express train through a tunnel. When actors don’t have time
to motivate what they are saying, their performances become
gobbledegook. Attempting to build up false intensity by Pace!
Pace! Pace! is
the sign that the director and performers have not taken the time to
uncover a real intensity inherent in the script.
For
the same reason, I would dispense with blocking when performing
Shakespeare, except perhaps in a large group scene. Actors must be
free to move and do what they would do in the given situation to
assist the director and fellow actors in working out what the text
means. How can an actor live and explore the text if they are being
pushed around like chess pieces and told ‘pick
up the flagon of ale on this line,’
or ‘stand
over there and frown when the King enters.’
A director filling the stage with pretty pictures, will be creating
an unnatural scene, often set before the meaning of what is going on
has been worked through. If an actor is really living the role and
wanting to share what they are doing with the audience, they will
adopt the spatial awareness we all use in life, and fill the stage
with a natural fluidity.
Adding
up the subtext and context
The
directors and actors in exploring the text and building characters
through action and interaction, will be constantly looking at the
lines and asking why
does my character say this?
Even more pertinently, they will ask: given
what the character seems to be like, what would they do in this
situation?
What
would their response be to a line said in this way, or another
character behaving like this to them.
It is sometimes helpful to wonder what you yourself would do in a
given situation, if you can be honest about it.
As
the characters emerge, and actors try things out and interact
truthfully, the director must be continually asking themselves, does
this add up as a scene and as a whole. It’s a jigsaw, is it making
a coherent picture? Even the smallest piece might have a great
bearing on the whole. Let us take, for instance, the character of
Starveling in A
Midsummer night’s Dream – one
of mechanicals (artisans) who wish to stage a play to celebrate
Theseus’ nuptials, Starveling doesn’t have a lot to do. It’s a
small role in which, ironically, we see Starveling cast in a small
role for the play-within-a-play: Pyramus
and Thisbe
in the first scene that he appears.
ACT ONE SCENE TWO
QUINCE
STARVELING
QUINCE
So,
we discover Starveling’s a tailor and probably a thin one by his
name, and he’s playing Thisbe’s mother. Not a young role, one
suspects. Nor a glamorous one. In fact, Thisbe’s Mother never
appears. The remaining scenes are similarly thrifty when it comes to
padding out Starveling’s character. In Act Three, his next two
lines appear.
ACT
THREE SCENE ONE
BOTTOM
QUINCE
BOTTOM
There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and
Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must
draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies
cannot abide. How answer you that?
Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must
draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies
cannot abide. How answer you that?
SNOUT
STARVELING
SNOUT
STARVELING
From
these exchanges we might draw that Starveling is the sidekick of
Snout the Tinker. He backs up Snout’s fears about the play they
hope to present to Theseus. Neither of the two men would appear to be
devil-may-care. They are exaggeratedly cautious. It might be tempting
to play Starveling as a hand-wringing pusillanimous nitwit, were it
not for the final scene in which he appears as Moonshine in the play
within a play.
STARVELING
as Moonshine
DEMETRIUS
THESEUS
THESEUS
This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man
should be put into the lanthorn. How is it else the
man i' the moon?
should be put into the lanthorn. How is it else the
man i' the moon?
DEMETRIUS
HIPPOLYTA
THESEUS
It appears, by his small light of discretion, that
he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all
reason, we must stay the time.
he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all
reason, we must stay the time.
LYSANDER
All that I have to say, is, to tell you that
the
lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this
thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.
lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this
thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.
DEMETRIUS
Why, all these should be in the lanthorn; for all
these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe.
these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe.
Starveling,
aggrieved at all the mocking interruptions, and having perhaps seen
Snout ridiculed before him, loses his rag. Demetrius’ line alludes
to Starveling’s temper fraying.
He dares not come there for the candle;
for, you
see, it is already in snuff.
see, it is already in snuff.
Starveling’s
repetition of his lines, could be uttered as a yokel simpleton.
All that I
have to say, is, to tell you that the
lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this
thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.
lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this
thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.
But
this would not make sense of the ensuing exchanges, in which Theseus’
party are a little chastened by the Tailor’s outburst.
DEMETRIUS
THESEUS
HIPPOLYTA
They
realise they have overstepped the mark, and don’t want a sour note
to intrude upon the wedding celebrations. Crucially, Starveling’s
hissy fit wins over Hippolyta, who up until that point had been
graceless in consenting to watch a play by simple workmen. It is part
of the context of her role. The softening of Hippolyta along with the
rest of the party leads to a sweetness in a conclusion of the
play-within-a-play and its aftermath. Miss that Starveling has
flipped, and the contrition of the wedding party won't work, and the
play within a play will fizzle out and dampen the upbeat ending of
the dream itself.
That
Starveling has it in him to boil over at a VERY important event, says
something about his personality. An actor playing him, would have to
go back to the earlier scenes and incorporate this into their
characterisation. The tailor might seem a bit conservative but he has
a short fuse. This will enrich the earlier scenes and give them added
context for other characters to work off. For instance, do the other
mechanicals know Starveling has a temper? It might lead Quince to
cast him in a small role on purpose and perhaps a little nervously.
This
flexibility in building characters, examining subtext and context and
speaking truthfully, demands a creative collaboration between the
actors and director. Actors, if they are really living through the
text, are often good at picking up where something doesn’t feel
quite right and turning a piece round until it fits. This approach,
where everything gradually informs everything else, is perhaps scary
for some, because nothing is tied down except a character’s
motivations, and in rehearsals and performance a good deal of
elasticity and emotional honesty is required. The box lid to check
this contextual jigsaw against is whether the play makes sense as a
whole. Always, the bigger picture. It makes for living theatre, holds
the mirror up to nature, and delivers Shakespeare’s plays to the
audience in a manner that is accessible and true to the text.