Director’s Blog – Part Three

 

Cigarettes & Chocolate

Three weeks to go.  I need to apply some urgent thought to technicalities – which sections of the Mathew Passion work best and where, if there are any costume props I’ve missed that might help inform the action, and decide (if that’s possible) on scene transitions.  So it’s over to Hannah (who’s playing Lorna) who can share her thoughts on the process so far…

“I love the challenge of cracking open the soul of a new character. For me the first step in this process lies in the words on the page, which I read over and over again as soon as I get my script. Often out loud. Often in the kitchen for some reason. Often to the utter bewilderment of my family members who call through ‘What? Are you talking to me? What was that?’ and then they tut and roll their eyes when they realise I’m pretending to be someone else again. 

I’m starting to find parts of my character, Lorna, now. In one of our early workshops we were experimenting with walks and rhythms and this is something which I think is essential. Our bodies say so much about us, each muscle holds a memory, a story. Our postures reflect our inner worlds and hold clues about how we feel about the outer world, so finding a way to move can really help to unlock a character. One of Lorna’s lines in the play tells us she believes she has an ‘incapacity to love’ and I took this as a starting point for her physicality. In order to physicalise this statement, I experimented with the notion that Lorna had some kind of freeze or blockage around her chest/heart area. Using this as a starting point I came up with a way of moving which kept her centre of gravity very high in her body, and which had a slight stiffness in her left arm. This subtly altered the way I held myself and gave me a visceral experience of  how it might feel to move within this woman’s body. I was left with a feeling that Lorna was always trying to rise above her emotions and her arm was always poised defensively lest they should try and suddenly overwhelm her.

 With scraps of Lorna’s words ringing round my head (and house) and an overall gesture which I felt captured the essence of her I went back to the text in earnest. I made a list of all the things Lorna said about herself and of all the things that other characters say about her in the play. Although time consuming, and a little bit like doing homework, this is always a great way to mine information and it often throws up tiny details that can be crucial to character development. This groundwork provided me with lots of questions about this woman. I’m becoming very intrigued about her and her life. Some of these curiosities can be answered by other information offered in the script, but a lot is left unsaid or unspecific so now I am moving into the next stage of character work: creating the imaginative world that surrounds my character, the details of her daily routine, what she might wear, her likes and dislikes, her hopes and fears, the dynamics of her intimate relationships, the different personas and versions of herself that she inhabits. All this work helps to flesh out the words on the page. I have started to carry Lorna around in my head as a sub version of myself. She goes through my day with me and I spend time with her in the quiet gaps. I ask myself what she’d do if she were me? What would frustrate her about my life? What would excite her? At night before going to sleep I close my eyes and conjure her up and watch her move about her business. I spy on her. In a good way.

 When working on a character I look to the text for the moments of choice and the moments of change and the moments where they realise something about themselves for the first time. These are the special moments that I want to underline for my audience. Perhaps most importantly though I focus on what my character does. Why are my characters actions important to the story of the play? The old phrase actions speak louder than words is crucial to character development. What are we really, if not a sum of our actions?

 Finally, in response to Paul’s request that we all find a song that sums up our characters, I have been trawling through 80s pop music. I wanted to find something that not only would Lorna enjoy listening to, but something which reflects something of her being too. I have finally settled on a Cyndi Lauper song, as I feel it perfectly captures the way Lorna is stuck in a cycle of destructiveness of her own making, and beautifully portrays the acute pain that sits right at the core of her being. I haven’t sung it for the rest of the cast yet, but I am sure this is something that Paul will pull out of us all at some point.

 All I need to do now is find her voice. Oh and learn the lines… I better get back to ranting in the kitchen!”  (Hannah Dee)

Director’s Blog – Part Two

 

Cigarettes & Chocolate

Rehearsals are at that funny stage now before lines are learned.  At the moment, I feel the priority is to assess the potential and work out which buttons I might be able to press down the line.

This week we concentrated on voice work.  It is amazing the difference a good vocal warm up makes (thank you Susan) and straightaway you notice a subtle increase in actors’ vocal range.  If they’re relaxed and breathing in an unforced way, the nuances of characters and their thoughts begin to shine through and illuminate the scenes.  Each of the plays demand lots of stillness, and because of that, everyone is instinctively beginning to flex their voices to compensate.  At this stage, I think the big challenge of presenting Minghella’s work is to rein in the vocal and physical movement, and let the words speak for themselves.  We’ll see.

We have been breaking down the longer monologues, looking for the changes in thought, identifying the key images, agreeing the climactic moments, and all the time prising out the meaning.  The latter isn’t easy with so much buried beneath the surface.  The digging requires questions of actors, suggestions, opposing points of view, and sometimes finding the raw nerve.  As the actors explore, the pressure of time means that you have to step in quickly when you think you’ve seen a blind alley.   With six weeks to rehearse, the advantage we have over a professional company is that actors have a longer period to absorb their roles, but with less time together, there is pressure to make decisions quickly.  It’s all a bit like being a teacher at times – planning lessons, setting homework and ending the playtime.

Sarah Jane Dickenson, a lecturer in Drama at the University of Hull, generously shared her experience of interviewing Anthony Minghella.  Reflecting on our phone conversation in lieu of a discussion at rehearsal (her car was stuck in the East Yorkshire snow at the time), Minghella told her that Cigarettes and Chocolate was the piece of work he most wanted to be remembered by.  His writing was absolutely influenced by his childhood – the large vociferous Italian family in which he grew up meant that you struggled to make yourself heard – so his writing is all about giving voice to the silent and repressed.   He was fascinated by Beckett, who of course was fascinated by silence.  When the character of Gemma says ‘but the silence, listen, how rich it is, how pregnant, how full…’ you know exactly where it’s coming from.

 Anyway that’s what I think.   Jon is my assistant and will be designing an audio landscape for the plays.  He’s been listening to Bach’s Mathew passion (which is incredibly long) and is planning to import suitable noise and effects from North London.  I asked him to emerge from his cocoon…

 ‘Just back from the second rehearsal after the Christmas break. It’s very interesting, as I’m getting to see each scene leap off the page. I’ve read these scenes a number of times of course, and we’ve discussed each one in some detail as a company, but when you see individual actors inhabit their parts, suddenly the text comes alive in a way that you can’t possibly imagine on your own.  You imagine something, but it’s not the actual reality of the play performed with these particular actors. Each individual actor brings himself to the text, and so the text comes alive in a unique way. It’s a privileged position to be assistant director, as you get to observe this process, to watch actors in the early stages struggle to make sense of the text. I’ve also been getting lots of ideas for sound. Watching each scene being built from the bottom up means you get lots of time to think and listen. You can watch the scene being run two or three times, and every time, you imagine the sound, and so though this process you are planning and testing out ideas. I guess it’s the same process as sitting with the text and planning it out, but you have the actors in front of you realizing the text, which is a much more interesting and inspiring experience.’ (Jon Hughes) 

Maybe I’ll let one of the actors have a go at this blogging lark.

Paul Osborne

Director’s Blog – Part One

 

Cigarettes & Chocolate

I felt quite shaken when they announced that Anthony Minghella had died.  I’m not sure why – I’d never met him, I knew some of his plays, I’d seen The English Patient which I remembered as long and too drawn out and I had enjoyed the epic journey of Cold Mountain.  When I glanced back through some of his early plays it became clearer.  There were words here that resonated, phrases and statements that seem deeper now.   As I read more about him, I understand why he was such a highly respected talent, a man who could write, direct and could explain the art of creativity better than anyone.  If you want to know more about writing and the craft of filmmaking I highly recommend Faber’s collection of interviews – ‘Minghella on Minghella’.

            Two years on from his death, our company is about to embark on a performance of three of his best, but lesser known plays.  The themes of love, passion, protest and miscommunication are just as relevant as when the plays were written in the 1980’s.  The attraction for me is the range of the subject matter, the common hopes and disappointments of characters at different stages in their lives, and the chance to combine scenes, monologues and dance in particular, in one sitting.  His witty, naturalistic dialogue is a pig for actors to learn but with careful attention, it should be captivating to perform.  The real challenge will be to find the action in the text, much of which represent thoughts, stories and conversations which say one thing but mean completely the opposite.  And for us to find the rich quality of the silences.

            Of course the Studio will assist in this.  The limitation of space is also the impetus for intimacy in performance, simple but effective staging and detailed use of sound; in this case Bach’s Mathew Passion (explicit in the script), location effects and the cadence of Minghella’s natural currency – his words.

            We’ve had a couple of rehearsals to root out the mood and ideas of each play.  Actors were on their feet and exploring their characters’ walks and gestures before the Christmas break.  It always helps to find the rhythm of your part before you memorise the lines and movement is the best place to start.  We’ve planned the set and have basic lighting and sound ideas in place.  We’ll kick off the New Year with a read through, an opportunity to step back and listen to the words without worrying about when to move or which line comes next.  I’m lucky to have the support of a voice coach, Susan Stern, who will help give focus to the sound and meaning of the play.  And I’ve invited someone who interviewed Minghella and has studied his adaptations.  In my experience, the more you know about the author, the quicker it is to reach the heart of their work.

Paul Osborne

Shore of the Wide World – Director’s Notes 3

Just over a week to go until first night, that’s just five rehearsals, and with a long play like this, only three opportunities to run the play – the pressure’s on.  I’m conscious there’s a gradual process now of handing the play over to the cast, that I need to observe more and talk less.  I know that there’s only so much that an actor can take on before each run of the play so I have to be disciplined in my choice of instructions, and the order I select them.  Is it pace and rhythm first, a refocus on character’s intentions in each scene, or should we work at listening/giving/receiving and move as close as possible to being ‘in the moment’?

 

I see now there are real benefits in having a larger cast.  I’m encouraging everyone to observe each other’s work.  Some are stronger vocally, some have natural comic timing, some are listening well, some have a physical tension and rhythm that makes their characterisation completely natural…  It’s exciting to see the fearlessness of the younger cast members in combination with the experienced, stage trickery of their seniors.  I’m working hard to give everyone confidence in themselves and the need to trust the words.  It’s paying off too, I can see hints already of those ‘hairs on the back of your neck’ moments ahead but we will need to work hard to release and sustain them by giving more attention to what goes between.   

 

Anyway enough about the actors, it’s the help you don’t see that I’m really counting on at present.  My Assistant – Ed the Bearded One – is cracking the whip on the accuracy of lines, vital to steering the pace of the action, and is tightening up some of the dodgier scenes; Jorvik (Props) Kalkinski is helping unleash the ‘business’ on stage; Vikki on costume is sourcing as many ‘chavvy’ garments as she can from actors’ own wardrobes (some of it surprisingly suitable!), and Laptop Jon is layering in the ambient sounds which support the action and wacking in (if that’s an appropriate term) some great music for links, endings and openings.  Andy meanwhile is devising an exciting kaleidoscope of light for the rich seam of locations.  That’s the thrill of theatre – different skills coming together, a fixed point in time to aim at and an expectant audience ahead.  I can’t wait. See you there I hope.

Shore of the Wide World – Director’s Notes – Part 2

“What’s Stockport like?  It’s f**kin’ great, there’s no better place.” said the one in the middle.  Thanks lads, you might just be right there!

We met them outside the abandoned Bluebell Hotel – it’s named in the play and we found it!  Then we saw Terry Christian getting into a taxi outside the station before dining out on a hot pork sandwich with the Saturday shoppers in the Merseyway Centre.  Overhead, a jumbo walloped its way down towards the airport.  Two hundred yards from our bench, constant traffic grumbled along the M60 sticking two fingers up at the arches under the West Coast mainline.  Then someone on a BMX nearly ran over my foot.    It was uncanny – we were on the Stockport shoreline looking out at a grey world passing by.  And believe it or not, at that moment, it was just the place to be.

            There’s a lot of transport in this play and now I know why.  There’s also a lot of wishing you were somewhere else.  At rehearsals we’ve knuckled down to discussing each scene, asking what’s gone immediately before, checking who just said what and why, and clarifying the time that’s passed between each of the 40 odd scenes.  We’ve worked hard on finding a character’s walk and gesture – in my mind the key to leaving your own world behind when you start work on a play – and we’ve enacted scenes without words, forcing the cast to find a physical language and explore the importance of silence.  We’ve tried to find the small places on our stage where intimate conversations should happen, and where they shouldn’t, conscious all the time of an audience that will lean into the scene from three sides.  We’ve talked a lot too, which now feels like time well spent.  I had wanted to nail down three ideas around which we should focus each character’s story but so far I’ve only got it down to eight.  Which either means this play is much richer than I thought or that I’m suffering from indecision – I’ll get back to you on that one!

            Right now I feel lucky.  A wonderful play filled with tactile words which keep coming back at you, a talented group of people, an available slot in a busy theatre schedule, all converging with events in my own life and forming – as one of the characters in the play says – an experience ‘latent with potential’.  Of course it’s daunting too… that constant sense of being looked to…  for a decision, praise, a sharp word, a tea break…the lack of time to weigh up the infinite alternatives, and of course coping with everyone’s (quiet) insecurities.

            I’m taking a break for a few days.  Next it will be scripts down – the treacly bit of the process.