no cockamamie ornamental fluff allowed.

I’ve been reading, and thoroughly enjoying David Mamet’s True and False – Heresy and Common Sense for the Actor. While some may find him harsh and arrogant there’s no denying the tone he sets in this book is no different than the tone Stephen King sets in his own memoirs, and guideline for aspiring and serious writers, On Writing. These two authors are talking common sense, Mamet going so far as to make it part of the title and King writing an foreword stating that basically all other writing books out there are full of BS. And while their common sense may dissolve into repetition frequently (in Mamet’s case, a little too frequently) both authors understand the most important thing they want to teach and are not afraid of using a power drill to teach it (even when you read the same sentence for the twentieth time in a slightly-over-one-hundred-page-book and you roll your eyes or instead read “yadda-yadda-yadda” you know that sentence’ll be the one you remember).

Both of these authors have realised there is no sense in sugar-coating the most important lessons. They have obviously become frustrated with the abundance of fluff and misguided, cryptic adjuncts attached to what could be helpful lessons. Mamet and King want to teach you in the simplest terms so as to require no deep, academic unpacking; they are writing of skill acquired through means of experience (honestly, what better teacher is there?). Now, some will have problems with this in-your-face attitude but you have to understand these authors are still people – not everything they say is perfect and not everything they say will work for you. This is what’s worked for them. Understand they aren’t afraid of insulting you (because really: they didn’t write this book for you. They wrote it for someone interested in writing and acting not for the emotional being that constitutes GIVEN NAME SURNAME).

With that being said, give both books a try. They come with my highest recommendation for anyone in either theatre or literature and I have every guarantee you’ll learn something.

thoughts on True and False:

Mamet’s talk about theatrical training in schools is somewhat misguided. He is correct when he states there is nothing a teacher anywhere in the world can teach you about “portraying emotions” because they are not you (I guess the exception here is if the teachers are actually abusing their students in some way or another... and if this’s the case I think there’s a bigger issue to deal with here). Emotion is something to be experienced first hand and unplanned. As Mamet states, emotion is a by-product of pursuing an objective; of taking an action. We don’t think about getting mad when someone hits us; it just happens. Emotion is completely uncontrollable. Any attempt to control it is false. And we don’t want to see false emotion.

Mamet does, however, miss the point of institutionalised studio-based training [I separate this from the academia of Theatre Studies as this course of education is not for the actor. It is, like Mamet says, for the English student. In True and False, however, he doesn’t even pretend there is worthiness to this stream of education. Academic studies in theatre are as necessary as academic studies in any field (maybe more so because one of the main functions of theatre is to provoke discussion)]. Institutionalised studio-based training is not designed to teach emotion but to make oneself aware of their bodies. It is not to stock up their mind with emotional reserves they can tap at a moments’ notice but to stock up their mind with the ability to relax and listen when suddenly told to perform in front of a roomful of prying eyes; to listen when something changes onstage. It is to make the actor familiar with the demon called “Stage Fright” so as to not force their actions in its presence. And that, to me, is so very important. Yes, I agree this can be achieved outside the classroom but the classroom focused on this task shouldn't in any way hinder an actors’ development.

Everyone has experienced that “feeling of being watched,” or actually has been watched before (by someone who maybe thinks you’re cute, for example). In this situation our bodies tense. We become aware of how we are acting so as not to do too much, or to acknowledge, or to try and heighten our attractiveness. ALL OF THIS HAPPENS BECAUSE WE NOTICED ONE PAIR OF EYES ON US. Imagine what would happen if there were one hundred pairs? Logically our bodies should freeze and become incapable of rational thought. This is fear (and Mamet speaks brilliantly about fear in True and False). In other terms, an institutionalised studio-based education should acquaint their students with situations of fear and, subsequently, bravery / courage and, to a lesser extent, this training may help naturally reclusive people with an interest in performance become more comfortable and extroverted in social situations. If a person can’t hold a mundane, day-to-day conversation there is no hope or luck that will allow them to act (if a socially reclusive person can hold a mundane, day-to-day conversation but chooses not to they are probably rather formidable actors because they are constantly listening to their surroundings unprovoked).

It’s interesting the very thing Mamet advocates for is, in my experience, the same thing most schools offer. Moreover, it seems he’s tailored his book to actors who have gone through or are currently going through the same kind of education he lambastes. In doing so, Mamet’s created a kind of retroactive, unintentional (? - benefit of the doubt given) hypocrisy in requiring a prerequisite in order to fully understand the heresy and common sense of acting. 

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Maybe, however, institutionalised training needs more truth in it. It doesn’t help anyone (except maybe the board members) to be worried about money, numbers and success (there’ll be plenty of time for that after university/college). We need more people that speak and teach like Mamet and King: to tell it how it is and not be afraid to slap some sense into people. After all, the one thing the greater population of today lacks is common sense.

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Addendum – My perception may be a bit askew as my experience comes from Canadian theatre schools and education in the mid- to late-2000s. I don’t know how they do it in the U.S nor what the focus of acting schools of the late-1990s (or earlier) were like.

on delusion and new gods.

Watching the four party leaders speak today in the wake of a half-assed attempt to stabilize democracy in Canada I realised something: the “ecomony” is bullshit; it is a tactic for fear-mongering: the new God. We don’t partake in rituals in order to favour an angry deity anymore but to appease an upset and unstable economy. The economy will do what it will because it is controlled by masses of humans who make decisions that eventually affect other humans because their voices were the loudest the same way the religious fanatics who claimed to be the receptacle of the voice of god were. It is great rhetoric because, just like the peasants of the medieval villages, there is no way to prove in the midst of number-crazed people in positions of power that it is not a force unto itself but is, essentially, controlled by “god”-fearing fundamentalists.

Now, as we enter a new era in Canada’s history, one of a government in contempt of Parliament and concerned deeply with playing the “game” of politics (meaning the gambling of the nation’s lives and beliefs), an era of yet another publicly funded election that will, most likely produce the same results with slightly different numbers, we will become witness to the passion play of economic appeasement in all its glory. This is delusion in its purest form.

that poor, poor man. *UPDATED*

The conviction of the truly disillusioned is a frightening thing to witness. We’ve all had those moments watching reality television when someone truly atrocious is allowed to grace the panel of judges with their presence. This can’t be real, we think. They had to have set that up, let them through for comic relief because we believe no one is like this in real life, right? And as we watch the judges snicker and do everything they can to not hide the fact these contestants are being made fun of, the most important question passes through our minds: How can their loved ones allow them to make a fool of themselves like this in front of an international audience? Doesn’t anyone actually care about these people? And this gives us a sense of greatness: If it were one of my friends, I would never allow them to be subject to such ridicule.

But really:

How do we know when we’re stuck in the middle of it?

Sure, it’s easy enough to call attention to it when we’re watching through a television screen (it's like looking over the shoulder of someone using a computer - the onlooker always finds the links first). But what happens when we find ourselves in that position? Are we actually able to see how bad something is? I can’t edit a script until I’ve had time away from it. A new, devised piece of theatre can’t/shouldn’t/isn’t ready to be finished without the introduction of an “outside eye” in the rehearsal process (hopefully in the form of a director). All creative people know that when you’ve fallen too far into something you can’t see the forest for the trees.

This being said and in order to make sure you don’t end up being ridiculed in front of a brimming audience (unless that’s what you’re looking for – what do I know?) please, for the love of all that’s holy, take some time and ask yourself why you are doing this. Be truthful. It would also help by surrounding yourself with people that aren’t afraid to break your ego once in a while. These friends are probably the best friends a person can ever find.

The performing arts is full of the most deluded, egotistical, self-righteous people you will ever find. And, sadly enough, it has to be. The latter two of those three qualities are actually rather necessary for a person to succeed in this field (in the form of confidence – no one wins by being self-absorbed *coughSheencough*). But the first only and always remains an obstacle for every one of us to overcome.

Theatre is the heightened expression of emotions and daily struggles. If you have a hard time functioning in a mundane, day-to-day conversation I don’t think this is the right path for you. Theatre cannot and will not be a substitute for real life experiences. You actually have to go out and do those yourself. PLEASE GO OUT AND DO THOSE YOURSELF. Theatre is about society and community. It is about the present and why the present needs to express itself on stage. We cannot be deluged with our own greatness and expect audiences to shower us with roses. We need to actually interact with the world if we want the world to interact with us and in order to do this we need to learn how to listen. A conversation always has two parts. You can’t always talk.

Really, what I’m getting at is that too much of one thing is detrimental to the goal you’re trying to achieve. Please, take some time to refresh. Attack your passion from a different angle, with all new eyes. Theatre will always be here. Just because you don’t act or study for a few months - a year, who knows? - doesn’t mean you’re giving up your dream. If anything it will always be part of you and everything you’ve experienced in the interim will be sifted through unconsciously and stored in your mind into that file cabinet marked “Life Experiences” (or, as most people call it, “Memories”) to draw upon later. Honestly, it will only make you stronger and more self-assured.

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Addendum: "...to draw upon later..." this may sound like an endorsement of The Method. It is not. My advice in this column is with the intent to make a more well-rounded, and ultimately more comfortable actor. I am not giving advice to allow an actor the ability to preconceive how they may react to the extraordinary circumstances of a play but to awaken the actor to their body so they can listen to what their body, and the other actor, is telling them onstage.

nothing more than a spectre, floating.

It’s times like these I understand the melancholy anguish of Sherlock Holmes and why he resolves to whittle away the dead space between cases with drug. Cocaine. Transcendence. He brings his mind to another plane because anything, anything is better than the monotony of daily life arguing (paraphrasing): If your mind is not preoccupied with something of meaning should you waste and potentially damage it by being preoccupied with something mundane?

Or is it that, after a worthy cause, even the mind of the great Sherlock Holmes has spent all of its creative juices? I wonder how he would fare if his cases were one after another, back-to-back, instead of spread out, allowing him to recover in between and act at the peak of his power when a new one arises?

It’s been a week since I finished In All Kinds of Weather. Four days since I finished editing. With the close of this play, my reason for getting up in the morning (in a timely/productive fashion) has finished as well. My drive is deflated. For now, at least. I’ve created a cocoon around me, fallen into hibernation to prepare my mind for the change it’s undergone. I’ve picked up an old project and am slowly getting it to a place I’m comfortable with, but my drive isn’t there. It’s not immediate. In other words, I’m spent. I find myself catching up on movies and readings I’ve been meaning for too long. I’m consuming so much of this escapist entertainment and all the while leaving my own creative juices to recuperate you can almost see the track marks on my arms.

I’ve realised this happens every time I complete something. In the past I would become restless, impatient with myself during this period -

JUST GET UP! STOP WASTING TIME!

But now I understand it needs to happen, that my passion will come back. That my ideas will begin to generate again at a new pace, with a new vision. So I’m trying to let it go. I keep reminding myself this happens, over and over, and will continue to as I grow older. And I guess it makes me feel a bit better.

I’m still anxious as hell, however -

WHEN’S IT GONNA END?

they've stopped talking.

I've been away. Busy busy busy, what with rehearsing for the New Ideas Festival, generally being unemployed and worrying about finances, and writing the ending of In All Kinds of Weather. Yes. That's right. It's done.

And that's a weird feeling. I mean, I've finished plays before and usually feel somewhat regretful that it's over; I don't want to say good bye! There's so much more I could write about them!


But not this time.

I said good bye.

Rather: they said good bye. They grabbed the till and the most marvelous thing happened: they accepted their fate. They knew it was time to go. I saw them, each of them, that look in their eyes. As I was writing, I don't know where exactly but they would each turn to me, in their own time, and look straight into my eyes. Unquestioning. Almost nodding. This is it. We've had our time.

I have never been so satisfied with ending a play before (which makes me wonder if those other plays I finished actually did end...).  Maybe it was because I knew the ending before I began. I knew their images: how I wanted them to be remembered and what I wanted these characters to stand for. Their images were already inside from the top, fermenting (an image which explains, pretty accurately, the story of writing this play, with all the unpredictable alleys it brought me down. It felt, at certain times, that something else was guiding me). The ending aged as I wrote. It was ready last Friday. I have never been so content.

I still have a lot of reflection concerning the creation of this play, but I think the most immediate, stark lesson I've taken from it is the importance of that final image (or those final images). You can't just pick an ending out of the air. You need to find a picture (not literally), study it, then figure out how to re-create it. All the ingredients are there, you just have to look for them. A picture has many layers and it's your job to explore each one. In time, you'll have all the ingredients to make really good beer.

Maybe now I'll stop writing about them like they're real...