Evaluating Actors and Acting
It can be very difficult to talk about acting. The evidence is in the plethora of books about acting and the very different ways people describe the elements that make it up and how to go about it. A book, or in this case, a SubStack, allows the time and space to develop a coherent (hopefully) set of ideas, a framework within which the work of the actor may be discussed. But in the classroom or rehearsal hall, there just isn't the time (or space) to do that as well as anyone ever wishes. In both, much of the work is simply developing a vocabulary for what is wanted and not wanted. So much frustration arises from a disconnect between what is said and what is meant, what is heard and what is understood. One of the reasons that certain directors cast certain actors is because that struggle is more or less avoided. Everyone is (more or less) on the same page and the work can proceed without too much sturm and drang!
But it needn't be that way. Properly structured, work in both class and in rehearsal can proceed, if not smoothly, then at least coherently by establishing an aesthetic for the ensemble at the outset. In essence,
what is created in rehearsal is a family, within which intentions are coherent.
We must, in effect, learn a new language, special to the group, relevant to the play, and ultimately clear to an audience. The aesthetic is made of up concepts within a metaphorical framework by which behavior can be evaluated. Each play, theatrical event, class, or workshop has its own set of concepts, some shared by all, others learned over time, and some developed uniquely by the group as they work. Problems arise in misunderstandings in each, mostly because the notion of what is shared, learned, or developed is assumed, not agreed to. And you know what happens when you assume.[i]
So, the solution is to say out loud, in an almost contractual way, what is wanted and not wanted in rehearsal and performance. I like to start by discarding the words "good" and "bad." These words are so vague and judgmental they just stop everything--because nothing can actually be done with this information except to try to recreate what was supposedly "good" and avoid what was supposedly "bad." Admittedly, these words get tossed around a lot in class and rehearsal, as in "that was very good!" Or, "not so bad," or "not too good." All you can do is say, "thanks" and try to figure out just what it was you did and do it again (or never do it again). Hardly a prescription for an effective process. So, when we talk to each other-- actor to actor, director to actor, audience to actor--we should establish right from the get-go what we mean.
Shared concepts. The urge to approach or withdrawal is the first (and arguably only) shared concept that must be acknowledged out loud. When we watch actors at work, as discussed, we react to the coherence of enactments in one of four ways--approach, withdraw, freeze or neutral. So, while watching a scene or show, note your reaction to a particular moment or overall--did you feel impelled to move toward, away, weren't sure (unable to evaluate due to the ambiguity of the intention), or didn't care? All the rest is an elaboration of these basic urges. Then ask, why was I so un/moved?
Learned concepts. There is language developed over many years, which, even if inconsistent, does have merit and provides us with some coherence. The recent translation of Stanislavski's writings (Stanislavski, 2008) provides us with some very useful concepts that are common among actors, acting teachers, and some directors. They are used throughout these posts: task, action, intention, etc. When you watch a scene or performance, feel an urge to move, and ask yourself why, the answer is likely to be the relative
clarity of the task
specificity of the action
mastery of material (knowing the lines, sure of the blocking)
depth of connection
vividness of presence
Each group, ensemble, class or cast will have its own shared vocabulary of learned concepts. But again, it is important to say them out loud and discuss what they mean. It cannot be assumed that when someone says, "I didn't understand your intention," that everyone will know what is meant.
Each genre also comes with its own set of learned concepts. For example, the so-called "Rule of Three" in comedy is a standard learned concept. These concepts are often discussed in a classroom, but too often assumed in rehearsal.
Unique concepts. Obviously, these arise on a case-by-case basis and take the most time to establish, and sometimes are never fully clear until after the show closes! Much consternation occurs in the final rehearsals because there is lack of sureness about the coherence of the acts. This is when the trust established by the group because crucially important. Actors must trust that the director knows what they’re doing. The director must trust that the actors have done their work. In the case of new work, everyone has to trust that the pattern of acts the playwright has constructed makes some sort of sense. Finally, we all have to trust the audience to get it--that the intentional acts will cohere.
It can be very instructive when it all fails miserably. You may have been at a show that goes horribly wrong and wonder to yourself, "what on earth were they thinking?!" According to the theory worked out here, what probably happened is that within the "family" group established by the production, over time the acts that to the audience are an action salad became coherent within the group. In rehearsal it all seems to make sense! So, we get something like the musical, Carrie (the original version) and very smart people end up having ideas such as, "Let's have a song about slaughtering pigs! Brilliant!" But when the audience encounters this strange tribe, the acts just appear incoherent, and the show closes after one night (true story).
Like an inside joke, families share a vocabulary where actions cohere. Christopher Durang explores this wonderfully in many of his plays. Inside the deranged family in The Marriage of Bette and Boo, or the temporary family established in Betty's Summer Vacation, the intentions make sense (at least to some). But to the audience they are absurdly funny and sometimes frightening (which is what makes Durang's work so wonderful, IMHO). Durang establishes a funny world with the premise, "wouldn't it be funny if..." and the audience understands the acts within that world--so they don't withdraw. Of course, not every audience will react uniformly. Some will get it, and others won't. Sometimes, only certain families of audiences will get it, as they enter the experience already with a knowledge or understanding of the coherence of the acts. This is evident in shows that appeal to certain groups--ethnic, culturally constructed, various identity orientation/preferences, etc. Not everyone likes musicals, but many who do are deeply devoted to them.
What's So Funny?
Comedy provides us with a useful example of the challenges in evaluating the actor's work. What is funny to one person may be a perfect bore to another (ask several people how they feel about the comic group/person du jour and you'll find the proof of this assertion). Establishing early on the nature of the humor is critical and can avoid endless and painful discussions about what's going to get the better laugh.
As unique concepts arise in rehearsal or in the classroom, it is important to take a minute and acknowledge them, and then reflect upon them so that the underlying principles are made clear to everyone. From their further unique concepts may be derived, not accidently or incidentally, but intentionally. And that will guarantee that, at least within the little world of the play that is being created, everything will make sense.
Rubrics Cubed
In later posts I will share several rubrics--charts that assist in evaluating an actor's work. In them you will find much of what has been discussed throughout these posts. Also provided are rubrics for specific genre (comedy, the plays of Chekhov, improvisation). All of these are to aid in articulating the relative effectiveness of performance within a "family" of plays. But they are just a starting point. In the end, the use of such a tool is not so discussion is avoided, but rather that discussion, aided by the rubric, will be more thoughtful, meaningful, and clear.
All along it has been assumed (treacherous as that may be) that you are already well on your way as an actor. You came to this Substack, perhaps, seeking greater coherence in your performing and your processes. I hope that here you found some paths that you recognize as true to your preferences and orientations. Perhaps your mind has been opened to other paths that can be taken that lead to more effective performing. Maybe you can now see how our fundamental impulses as individuals, and the general principles underlying our behavior as a species, may be applied to theatre by simple and effective means. Your instincts, your education, your developing aesthetic, and emerging mastery all are moving you down the path towards a fuller realization of yourself as an actor.
[i] for the one or two of you who did not learn this from a high school teacher, when you ASSUME, you make an ASS out of U and ME.