How Stage Conflict Works

Posted on September 2, 2014 by J.

How does conflict work, from an actor’s point of view?

I want something. I want that raise. And I want it badly (remember, we need to raise the stakes as high as possible.) I want the raise, because I can’t afford a new car without one. I have a 50 minute commute every day; my car is essential to my life. It has been in the shop three times in the last two months, and the cost of repairs are draining me. The older the car gets, the more fuel it seems to burn, and it wasn’t very fuel efficient to start with. Plus, this is the seventh used car I’ve owned. Every car I’ve ever had has come to me scratched, stained, and worn. For once in my life, I want a car I’m not ashamed to take a date out in. I want a car that I think better represents me to the woman I hope to marry. And there is a car that I just saw in a commercial, and then the guy down the street got one, and I fell in love with it. With everything about it. The exterior lines, the interior features. And the color. They are making it in my favorite color.

I need this car desperately.

So where’s the conflict? It’s all the obstacles, the roadblocks that get in my way and conspire to keep me from my heart’s desire, that little coupe with my name on it.

The first obstacle is my own bank account. No matter how I try to work the numbers, I can’t find a way to scrape up a deposit that will also give me manageable monthly payments. I just don’t have the money.

So I try to get a loan from my family members. They all turn me down, for one reason or another.

I try buying a lottery ticket, but I don’t win.

I look for a part-time job, but either I can’t find one, or the ones I find won’t pay me enough to help me buy the car by the deadline I’ve set for myself.

So I’ve got to ask my boss for a raise, but I’ve never asked for a raise before. I don’t know how to go about it. So I ask my friends for advice on what to say.

They tell me, and now I rehearse what to say to my boss. And I set up a meeting with him. But I get cold feet and cancel.

My friends encourage me to try again. So I reschedule the meeting, and this time I show up. I stammer out the words. And my boss says no, he doesn’t think I deserve a raise.

Now I’m angry, because he was so dismissive of me. I go home and create some charts and other evidence showing that I have saved the company more money than I am asking for. I ask my boss for another meeting and present my argument. My boss agrees to give me a raise.

In the above scenario, everything in italics are tactics that I use to try to get what I want. In boldface are the obstacles I run into that make me change my tactics. Underlined are what happens when something I do is successful (that is, when I get whatever it is I am striving for with the associated tactic.)

So it isn’t just a matter of playing your verbs. Another part of the equation is the obstacle you run into, the roadblock that makes you change direction, makes you change verbs.

In other words, you don’t change verbs just for the hell of it, for variety. You change verbs because you are forced to. In your character’s estimation, whatever he is doing isn’t working to his satisfaction, and so he tries something else. But the reason he decides it isn’t working has everything to do with the other person and how he feels about what they do and say.

That means that receiving the message – “I’m not giving you what you want, buddy” – is critical. You can’t change your tactics without recognizing that your scene partner isn’t cooperating.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, because it’s one of the only things that really matters in acting: Everything you do, and every single word you utter, has a reason for existing. It is caused by something that happens that you are forced to deal with in that moment. Nothing is arbitrary in plays (and very rarely in life). Everything is a reaction to something else.

Actor’s Etiquette: Working With the Director

Posted on August 29, 2014 by J.

Directors come in as many variations as people do, which is to say that the nature of the experience isn’t going to be the same in any two productions you do.

Some directors do a lot of table work; some do none. Some like to plan blocking ahead; some like to let the actors develop their own. Some are very involved in what happens in rehearsal; some sit back and let the actors do their thing and nudge the train back on track when it diverts too far.

Whatever kind of director you have, it’s up to you to figure out how to get what you need from him. It’s a relationship, and like all relationships, we give what is easy for us to give, or what we’ve been accustomed to giving in the past. If your director doesn’t give you what you need, it’s up to you to ask for it. Good communication between an actor and her director is critical, but it’s a two-way street. Don’t expect the director to read your mind. He’s got a lot on his.

Most directors don’t give enough positive feedback to actors on their work, mainly because actors can’t get enough! Acting is so personal that even those of us with strong egos need to be reassured that we’re okay, that we’re moving in the right direction. In addition, some directors may only feel the need to provide you guidance and not reassurance. If you aren’t getting enough stroking from your director, be direct with him. “Do you like what I’m doing???”

If you aren’t clear on what your director’s vision for the play is, ask. Rephrase what he tells you in words that are meaningful to you in order to be sure you are both speaking the same language. (This is called “mirroring”, by the way, and it is the only way to be sure communication is effective and accurate.)

If you need guidance about your character, ask for it early in the rehearsal process. Don’t flounder on your own until you’re desperate for help. I’ve seen directors put off steering actors onto the right track until very late in rehearsal process, and it’s really too late to do much about it at that point. Remember that if you are struggling with a scene in any way, the director may not realize it unless you say something. Let him help you sort things out.

This isn’t a test you need to pass. It’s a work of art you are creating. Admitting confusion and uncertainty is a healthy thing in the theater. It’s how we find what works.

Most importantly, be open to what your director has to offer the production. Remember that he sees things from the audience’s perspective. If he tells you something looks a certain way, believe him! He has no reason to lie to you. If what you’re doing isn’t coming across the way you think it is, change it so it will.

It’s also important to let a director know if he is working in a way that bothers you. Some directors like to demonstrate. As an actor, I hate it, and if I see a director doing it with another actor, I’ll let him know (privately) at the earliest opportunity that I need him to not do it with me. If I am his first “victim”, I’ll diplomatically ask him in the moment to find a different way to get his point across.

Remember that while the director has many other concerns to deal with, helping you is still one of them. Don’t feel that you can’t “bother” him, because “he’s got so much on his plate already.” He signed up for this responsibility, after all; it’s up to him to figure out how to juggle his responsibilities successfully. Take responsibility for your acting, but the director is your partner in crime. Ask for anything you need that will help you produce your best work!

Three Kinds of Conflict

Posted on August 26, 2014 by J.

A character can be in conflict with three different things:

Himself
Someone else
A group

Internal conflict happens all the time. I want to accept a job promotion that involves a transfer, but that means moving to Los Angeles, and I hate southern California.

I need to tell you that I want a divorce, but I’m scared to. Or I’m not yet sure I really want one.

I want to go to my high school reunion, but I’m nervous about seeing my high school sweetheart again.

Relationship conflict also happens all the time. I want to take the promotion, but my wife doesn’t want to leave her family, all of whom live near us on the East Coast. I am torn between my desire for success and challenge and my love for my wife (internal conflict), but I am also fighting with her about it. I say living on the West Coast would be better for us as a family; she believes the opposite.

I’m in conflict with my boss, because I think I deserve a raise and he doesn’t.

I’m in conflict with my landlord, who still hasn’t fixed the door to my apartment.

Conflict with groups can run the gamut. Family, church, state, community, club, business, society, Martians.

I’m a nun, and I’m in conflict with the Catholic Church, because I believe women should be able to be ordained priests.

I’m opposed to a new development project my township has approved.

I’m a whistleblower and I’ve been fired from my job for bringing environmental violations committed by my company to the public’s attention.

Combine all three kinds of conflict, and you start to create very powerful drama. As a nun, I have an obligation to obey the Church, so I am torn between my devotion to God and my vows and my deep beliefs about the priesthood. The priest in charge of my diocese is very vocal about his belief in apostolic succession and against ordaining women, and the fact that I am one of the leaders in this movement creates a lot of personal conflict between us, and not just about this one issue. And, of course, I am in conflict with the Church as a whole, as a “corporate body”.

So examine the play you’re working on to understand the conflicts within it. Who is on who’s side? Where do you agree with others, and where do you disagree? Who is sitting on the fence whose support you might need? How do you feel about those who are for you are and those who are ag’in you?

Remember that you might both agree and disagree with someone. You might think your sister needs to solve a problem, but disagree with how she is going about it.

Actor’s Etiquette: It’s Not Your Scene

Posted on August 22, 2014 by J.

Knowing what to focus on and when is part of good storytelling.

Is your character the focus of the scene, or does it “belong” to someone else? For instance, when one character has a long monologue, she is generally the focus of whatever is going on onstage. That’s pretty obvious. But all scenes have a focal point, and it’s your job to figure out who and what it is. Focal points exist no matter how many people are on stage, and they often change throughout the scene.

For instance, there are a number of scenes in A Streetcar Named Desire that have Stanley, Stella, and Blanche on stage at the same time. Stella is often a secondary character during them, although she has moments when she comes to the forefront. The actress playing Stella needs to know when to “retire” to the background and when to insert herself into the action.

Having speaking lines doesn’t necessarily mean that you are the focus of attention, however. Playwrights often have a primary character be silent during a scene, and yet all the attention needs to be focused not on the ones busily talking around them, but on the silent character. How he is taking in everything that happens in the scene is the point of it. For instance, when Prof. Higgins and Colonel Pickering ignore Eliza Doolittle in the scene after the ball in My Fair Lady, it is Eliza whom the audience needs to be watching. The whole point is that the men are ignoring her, and she doesn’t like it.

Focal points can easily change multiple times during scenes. Even if there are just two people on stage, one character is probably dominant at any given moment. If you look at my beat breakdown for Moonlight and Magnolias, which you can find here, you’ll see that I list one character in each beat as being “major” and everyone else is “minor”. Whoever is the “major” character is where the audience’s focal point will be, and the actors have to be sensitive to that.

The identification of where the focal point is in each beat was something I did as the director – that’s one of my jobs as a director, to make sure the focal point is clear. However, the actors need to be sensitive to it as well. It’s a dance. Deferring to the “major” character in the beat is sort of like opening the door for someone. Be gracious when it is someone else’s “scene”, but don’t be afraid to walk through the door yourself when it becomes yours!

Drama is Conflict

Posted on August 19, 2014 by J.

This may seem to go without saying, but actors sometimes forget this.

A good scene has two characters in conflict about something. About whether or not Mom should be cremated or buried at sea. About who should get the Renoir knock-off and who gets the Ming vase. About whether we should order in Chinese or pizza while we argue about it.

Both characters want something, but what they want is in conflict. That is, if you want to cremate Mom and I think she should be buried at sea, one of us doesn’t get what we want if the other one does. (Unless we agree to cremate her and spread her ashes at sea.) If I want both the Renoir and the Ming, and so do you, one of us will be unhappy if we get neither, and both of us will be unhappy if I get the Renoir and you get the Ming. And if I hate Chinese food and you insist on ordering it, then I’m going to grouse through dinner.

The fact that not getting what we want in a scene is going to make us profoundly unhappy is what helps to heighten the drama (remember those “stakes” we talked about.) And so we fight for what we want, for what we believe, in this moment, is the thing we need in order to be happy.

It really is that basic. Our lives are driven by the need to be happy. Eating the last piece of chocolate cake will make me happy. Getting a raise will make me happy, because now I’ll be able to buy a new car, one that is reliable, fuel efficient, and beautiful, none of which can be used to describe my current car. Marrying the man of my dreams will make me happy. Getting revenge on the co-worker who screwed me out of that promotion will make me happy.

Or so I think. I might discover that revenge isn’t what I hoped it was. Or that it backfires on me in some disastrous way. But at the moment that I am seeking revenge, I am positive that it alone will make me happy.

But in art, as in real life, happiness is rarely handed to us on a silver platter. As in my “dead mother” scenario, two people often have contradictory desires, and that makes us go to war over what we want.

If there is no conflict, there is nothing to watch. It’s boring, and we don’t care. So it is up to you as an actor to find the conflict, and to make the most of it. The more you fight for what you want, the more we want to watch you do it.

Actor’s Etiquette: Diction

Posted on August 15, 2014 by J.

Actors have to have good diction. I don’t care what sort of character you are playing or what their accent is. Diction is essential to comprehension. Remember, the audience has never heard these words before, or at least, you should assume they haven’t. (Even if you’re doing Shakespeare, operate on the assumption that at least some of the audience has never heard or read Hamlet before.)

Diction relies upon consonants being fully pronounced. American English is much more focused on vowel sounds than consonants. British English is the reverse. The British use their lips much more than Americans do (if you’re doing a British accent in a play, and doing it well, you’ll find that your lips will get fatigued in your first week or two!), and this contributes to the fact that their diction is so much more precise than ours.

I’m not suggesting that you use a British accent, but you should be sensitive to the fact that we Americans sometimes get very lazy in our speech and so glide through the harder consonants that help to define the perimeters of words. In real life, I can ask you to repeat something if you’ve slurred a word. The audience can’t do that. So you need to be sure that you are more careful in your speech when you are onstage than you are in everyday life.

And If There Isn’t Enough Rehearsal Time?

Posted on August 12, 2014 by J.

So now you have a way of judging whether or not your director has allowed for adequate rehearsal time.

(This isn’t a perfect science, by the way. The level of experience and skill the actors have will have an impact on how much time is needed, too, and the director may have sufficient personal knowledge of his cast’s abilities to know how that impacts rehearsal time. What seems a little scant to you may actually be enough.

But all directors get surprised sometimes. Things that we thought would go so smoothly are a mess, and things we thought would be extremely difficult prove to be very easy for this particular group of actors. But we do the best we can when we plan.)

If the rehearsal schedule is set in stone, but you’ve decided you don’t have enough time to do what needs to be done, what can you do? Generally speaking, the answer is to work harder at home. The more effort you put into preparing for your role when you aren’t at rehearsal will free up time at rehearsal. When you come to rehearsal better prepared, rehearsals become more efficient and productive, both for you and for everyone around you. But here’s a few specific thoughts:

Memorize your lines as fast as you can. No matter which challenge you’re facing, getting your lines down will make anything and everything easier.
If your challenge is physical movement that doesn’t involve other actors (much), ask the director if you can come early or stay late to run through those sections on your own. Most directors will be happy to accommodate you.
If you have complicated bits of physical business (e.g., mixing cocktails), practice them at home until they become effortless.
See if you can work privately with a scene partner to reduce the amount of time needed to work that scene in regular rehearsals. It needn’t be the complicated scene that needs the extra rehearsal time. Working privately on anything in the play frees up rehearsal time for the tougher stuff.
If there are very physical scenes in the show that you know will take extra work, ask for a schedule of when those particular scenes will be rehearsed. If you don’t think there is adequate time set aside for them, now is the time to express that concern, because two weeks before opening will probably be too late.

Actor’s Etiquette: Mind Your Sightlines

Posted on August 8, 2014 by J.

In a perfect world, the audience should be able to clearly see everyone on stage all the time.

It’s not a perfect world, but here are some guidelines.

If you’re doing a large musical with chorus people in the background, it’s okay for the leads to stand in front of them. But the primary characters in crowd scenes should all be visible.

It’s okay to cross in front of someone when they aren’t speaking as long as you do it reasonably quickly and, heaven forbid, don’t stop in front of them.

Don’t forget the people sitting in the front row against the walls. They need to be able to see you, too. If you are upstage of other actors, pay attention during each performance so that you can adjust your position if necessary to give those audience members a glimpse of your face. Similarly, if you are the downstage actor, be courteous to those upstage and adjust your own position if you are aware that you are blocking them. Play with it in rehearsals so you will know what kind of flexibility you’ve got on performance nights without having to stare at the end seats to figure out if you need to move.

If you find that you are positioned on one side of the stage and looking toward the other side of the theater for a prolonged period of time, find reasons to turn your head in the other direction with some frequency. The audience on your side of the theater deserves more than just your profile, too.

And lastly, remember that when you’re backstage, be careful about peeking through the curtains to watch the action on stage. If you can see the audience, they can see you!

What Kinds of Plays Need Extra Rehearsal Time? Part II

Posted on August 5, 2014 by J.

Blocking issues aren’t the only challenges that may add extra time to rehearsals. Here are some other things to consider:

One or two roles that carry the lion’s share of the play. This includes two-handers, star vehicles, and wordy plays. Some plays just seem to have a lot more words in them than others, and even if there isn’t one character with more than anyone else, there may be several who have more than the lead in an average play. Plays like these typically require an extra week, just for memorization purposes.

Complex characters. Plays with one or two roles that are particularly complicated and challenging characters probably take a little extra time to allow for the actors to do them justice. Conversely, a well-balanced play with straightforward characters and actors who seem to be typecast in their roles may require a little less time to rehearse.

Military, period pieces. Some plays require body movement that is different from what we ordinarily use in real life. Plays like A Few Good Men, where the majority of the characters are in the military, means that the actors need to learn military bearing in how they stand, walk, etc., and to maintain that consistently throughout the play. Similarly, the manners at the Elizabethan court in Mary Stuart as well as the difference in attire will affect how actors need to move.

Physical ailments. An actor who needs to limp, pretend to be paralyzed, use a wheelchair, or make any other notable physical movement changes may need additional time to practice them. Some modifications, such as Laura’s limp in The Glass Menagerie, may not need much additional time, as the actress playing Laura can work on most aspects of the limp privately in her own time. However, the actor playing the title role in The Elephant Man needs to contort his body sufficiently that extra rehearsal time is probably required.

Mind-altering conditions. Scenes where an actor is drunk, high, crazy, or mentally challenged may need some extra rehearsal time.

Playing multiple characters. Some people are very skilled at this and don’t need any additional time to rehearse. However, actors who need assistance in creating clear identities for multiple characters, or who need to switch between them within a single scene, such as in The 39 Steps, benefit from additional time.

Plays requiring perfect timing or which rely on speed. Not only does this include farces, but it also includes episodic plays like The 39 Steps and The Front Page, wherein much the fun and humor is dependent on fast-paced timing, both of lines and physical action.

Love scenes. In theory, this shouldn’t take any extra time unless the scene is lengthy and requires a lot of physical movement, in which case it is much like a dance. However, some actors have more inhibitions about the level of intimacy required by a love scene than others, just as some plays are more demanding in this regard than others. Bell, Book and Candle is a good example of a play that requires considerable highly-charged physical intimacy. If the actors playing the lovers are at all shy about entering into the demands of the scene, rehearsing them early and often to allow the actors to achieve familiarity with each other and comfort with the physical contact is the only way to make them believable.

Foreign languages, accents, or gibberish. A play like Enchanted April, if you have a non-Italian speaker playing the role of the cook/housekeeper who only speaks Italian, may need a little extra time, although much of her work will be done outside of regular rehearsal time. Plays where all the characters adopt an accent, such as British English (Received Pronunciation) may take extra time to teach the cast the rules of the accent and correct them when they go astray. Plays like Woman in Mind, the opening scene of which is conducted partly in gibberish, take additional time to rehearse, to get the actors comfortable with what the gibberish is supposed to mean and how it is to be delivered.

Classics. Playwrights like Chekhov, Shakespeare, and Moliere present their own performance challenges that might warrant an extra week of rehearsal.

Children. Depending on the age of the children and their level of experience, it may take a little extra time to get them to understand what they need to do.

Actor’s Etiquette: Caring for Your Costumes

Posted on August 1, 2014 by J.

If you are working in a college or professional theater, there may be staff in charge of caring for your costumes. If so, it is your responsibility to treat your costume with care: pull up your trousers when you sit so you don’t stress the crotch seam; don’t let your dress’ train sweep the dirt off the floor; don’t eat in costume unless you have a robe or towel covering your front and your lap.

Your other responsibility in this situation is to alert the staff in a timely fashion to any problems with your costumes: tears in the fabric, buttons that are coming lose, seams that are straining. The sooner they know about it, the sooner they can be fixed.

If, however, you are doing a show where there is no one assigned to take care of costumes, then guess what? Anything to do with your costumes, including the above, is also your job.

Maybe not the repair work. Maybe. But the daily cleaning and caring for your costume is.

What should you be doing?

When the make-up stains on your shirt collar start to become evident to those in the first row, you need to wash it. When your costume starts to stink, either wash it or spray it with vodka (the cheapest and best way to freshen costumes, believe it or not. Just don’t use Absolut.)

And please – iron it. In between shows. If you’re doing three or four performances a week, by the time you get to the last one, your pants look like you’ve spent all day in the car. If your character is arriving at the girl’s house for a first date, rumpled is usually not the look you’re going for.

If your costume is a slip or a satin dress that’s been stored in a box in the theater, please iron it before the first show! I did a show once with a young woman who had a simple satin wedding dress as one of her costumes. It was her first show at this theater, so I assumed that she thought someone would be ironing it for her, and didn’t have time to do it herself on opening night after she got to the theater. I expected, however, that she’d either ask about who was taking care of the costumes or iron it herself before the next performance.

Wrong assumption. After a few nights, I took to ironing it myself before she got to the theater. (I couldn’t figure out how to gently suggest that she do it, and so left it to the director to mention, which he didn’t. But I found the wrinkly dress a bit embarrassing on stage and so did it myself.)

And while we’re on the subject – if you use anything (costume or props) that has been collecting dust for years on some back shelf – please clean it. The dust on a patent leather purse, the dirt on the flowers on your hat, and the dull scuffs on your shoes can all be seen from the audience. Leave them in that condition ONLY if it is appropriate to your character, please!

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