I want to take a brief break from the argument I’m developing about the evolutionary underpinnings of acting and share some thoughts about two recent important events in the acting world—the release of season two of The Bear, and the passing of legendary actor, Alan Arkin.
First, let me explain the title of this post—Casting Spells. It’s a game I have used in teaching acting that I learned from the inestimable, courageous and wonderful Norma Bowles in 1992 at a presentation at the Association for Theatre in Higher Education. We’ve been friends ever since. The following is an excerpt from my book, Acting: An Introduction to the Art and Craft of Playing (Pearson. 2007)
Casting Spells (T, E)[i]
This is a paradigm for the acting process, for it imitates the play of energy within and between organic systems. The game requires both exchanging (emitting and assimilating) and transforming energy. You must blend with your fellow players, catching the ball of energy thrown to you. You must be in the moment, keep open, grounded, free. You must be aware, available and articulate to play effectively.
Set-up: Five to 10 players in a circle. For fun, you might imagine that you are a sorcerer, witch, warlock, or other magical creature. It is quite important to find the fun (see the Practice of Practice in Chapter One) in all games and exercises, but especially this one.
1. Form a circle and using movement and sound to send out, or “cast a spell,” upon another actor (emit energy). For example, you might shoot out your arms and cry, “bla-ah” towards someone across from you.
2. When a spell is cast on you, receive the “spell” as it was sent to you with sound and movement (assimilate the energy). For example, you might feel the spell hit you in chest, sending you slightly backwards with a yelp.
3. Transform the energy with sound and movement—that is, allow the energy received to travel through your body and voice, like a bolt of electricity or a shiver, and let it change. For example, you might begin with a shake and a high-pitched whine that transform into waving and a low growl.
4. Send out a “spell” to another actor, using your full voice and body. For example, you might fling out an arm and leg and shout “aiiieeee!”
Ki points
· There are three parts to the exercise—taking in, sending out, and transforming energy. Each is equally important, but you may find that you are more comfortable with one part over another. For example, some actors will tend to be very effective at sending out and not so effective at taking in. Others will transform quite well, allowing energy to travel through the voice and body and letting the energy change into a new sound and movement quite organically.
This is a truly wonderful ensemble television show, created by Christopher Storer. Season two has just dropped on FX/Hulu and it was even better than season one. Many others have commented on the excellence of the acting and the writing, so I will only encourage those who have not yet seen it to do a quick search and then watch it as soon as you can. What I want to focus on is the remarkable work of the actors and Storer’s obvious choice to focus on how actions “land” on the characters. Most of the characters on the show act without thinking—impulsively, sometimes violently (emotional and physical violence). Storer’s insight is to let the camera linger on how those acts affect the other person(s) in the scene. Call it collateral damage. In Casting Spells terminology, this is equivalent to “taking in.”
Two examples from season two (spoilers ahead!). First, the character, Ritchie, played by the incredibly talented Ebon Moss-Bachrach, receives a phone call from his ex-wife, Tiffany (played by the also excellent Gillian Jacobs) during which Tiffany tells him she is getting married. The wallop that lands on Ritchie is revealed in Moss-Bachrach’s performance in a fairly tight shot (he’s sitting in his car). Then he “transforms” it, and you can see the “spell” moves through his face and upper body in a symphony of feeling—a journey through deep pain to a highly controlled but obviously agonizing “I’m happy for you, Tiff.” The shot then cuts to Jacobs, who registers Richie’s pain in her face, also tightly framed. Throughout the entire series, the camera frames these moments closely so we cannot escape from the injuries the characters inflict upon one another.
The second example (and there are so many it’s hard to choose) comes from the national treasure, Jamie Lee Curtis, as the alcoholic “Donna,” the family matriarch and emotional abuser. At a family Christmas gathering (an episode already hailed as iconic and likely to be canonized), Curtis’ performance is a masterclass of acting—emotionally transparent and fluid, with vivid actions, and masterful control. Yet there is not a false or forced note in all of it. She seems to truly “live” the part—and that’s the idea, isn’t it? One particular moment I want to draw attention to is just after she sends her son Carmy (Jeremy Allen White—the prodigal son and center of the story) out of the kitchen, after telling him that “no one does anything beautiful for me.” He leaves, crushed by this, and seeing how she has crushed him, she herself crumbles. She perceives her own cruelty and narcissism but is unable to do anything but witness its effect. It calls to my mind Medea—whose titanic rage at her husband’s infidelity leads her to kill her own children. Donna has titanic rage at her husband, too—at what, exactly, we do not yet know. So, she murders her children emotionally time and again. The camera lingers on her face as Carmy leaves the kitchen and we see every nuance of pain, regret, rage, and despair registered there. She “takes in” her own action—which is one of the coolest bits of acting you will ever see.
Just a brief word about Alan Arkin. He is also a master of “taking in.” We celebrated his passing at my house by watching The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming. In this wonderfully hilarious performance, Arkin’s Lieutenant Rozenov is continually having to deal with the idiotic actions of his captain, his subordinates and the various goofballs of Gloucester Island. Whenever something ridiculous happens, Arkin beautifully lets his pain, disgust and resignation travel through his whole body—and I laugh every single time. It is so believable and so delicious and anyone who has suffered fools will instantly recognize that suite of feelings that no single word can ever capture, but Arkin’s magnificent performance so wonderfully reveals. Thank you, Mr. Arkin.
Back next time with more notes on the connection between evolution, neuroscience and performance.
[i] I learned this exercise from the inestimable, courageous and wonderful Norma Bowles, co-author of Cootie Shots (New York: Theatre Communication Group, 2002)