Tuesday, November 13, 2012

HENRY IV


It is difficult to strike exactly the right balance between theatricality and intellectual content.  The audience must be gripped by the sheer theatricality of Pirandello.  He aims to upset conventional theatre reactions; he wants to shock (somewhat as Shaw does), to startle, to horrify, to entertain through pure theatre.  He is not concerned with the actualities of life, but rather with the realities which, paradoxically, can best be revealed through theatrical illusion.  His purpose, however, is not entertainment only; the entertainment must carry realization of the tragedy of men i his mad world.  Drama of idea in a highly theatrical framework -- that Pirandello.

In review, it seems that the opening night performance most effectively achieved this brilliance: it was gripping, shocking, stimulating, provoking and disturbing in its implications.  It precipitated us into a mad world and jarred us with its intimation of causes. You all played with an immediacy of the moment.  It was high voltage drama you created -- shock upon shock: realities in a highly theatrical sense.  Perhaps Pirandello ideas could have been pointed more, I thought at the time.  In retrospect, however, they are more startling than in the later performances.  All performances were gripping, all were interesting, but Wednesday was the most brilliant in all respects.  After Wednesday you lost the (?) of those first realizations, first meetings until Saturday night, you were doing a "remembered" drama, slow and, except for the last act, untheatrical.  You were not releasing audience reactions, not providing relief from tension through laughter as you did on opening night and to some extent on every night but the last.  This release from tension is imperative.  I am not speaking of playing for laughter, but of keeping a snap in line, which can relieve excessive tension.  Lines were broken up too much, played too slowly and terminated, too often, without point.

Jim gave a consistently fine performance.  His doctor was exceptionally Pirandello: the essence of concern with psychiatry, rather than with the human dilemma, the irony of the mad attempting to cure the mad with no concern for human values, no understanding of the real dilemma, no real grasp of the facts which concern them so mightily.  Jim, in every way, from make-up to projection of character traits, vividly presented the greyness of age, the monotone of existence, the emptiness of life without human concern.  Jim's Doctor will stay in our minds as a Pirandello mask labeled psychiatrists -- mask and face have become one.

Belcredi was an excellent creation, too -- a Pirandello figure.  Perhaps there was still too much life in him, too much participation in life and Marshall sometimes over-emphasizes, but he kept the conflict of the drama motivated from the Belcredi angle, he kept is progressing to his death.

Katina did not match Marshall in decadence.  She created aristocracy, scorn, snobbishness, but never the dissoluteness that no mask of aristocracy can cover.  Katina will have to see some of these people, observe them closely, identify with them.  Yes: their spines are erect, but other muscles have sagged, shoulders have sagged a little.  Yest, they walk in straight lines but their very well-shod feet are set down, controlled a little too consciously, too steadily; their too well-kept hands are limp, bracelets and rings weigh them down, they grip things loosely, let go too easily.  "Marchioness" is the label for this decay: when Belcredi and the Marchioness look at each other, it is like looking in a mirror -- they see themselves, are repelled, want to smash the mirror, but have not the vitality to do so.  When Henry looks at them he sees the horror of decay.  Katina knew all this but she did not let her body create it.  And so, too often, she seemed a bystander in the action rather than a central motivation.  Again, I wonder whether Katina truly seems the image of the role she is creating.  Study people and their behavior, Katina, in life, in books, on the stage.  Your mechanics have improved although you do not always relate to others on stage and to objects, but chiefly you need depth in perception.

Both Vance and Claris admirably portrayed these two young beings with no purpose beyond the moment.  Both Claris and Vance act with fine incisiveness, with energy, with economy.

The counselors worked well as a group, established yough, indifference, acting and reality. We made a mistake, I think, in not making or keeping them continental.  They got more American each night.  Guard against our colloquialisms:  "It sure is," etc.  Perhaps it was the Striglos influence.  He did a good job of creating the new coming, he played well the essentials, landed his lines, responded to the situation -- good acting except for looking down too much.  But his speech is too mid-West American in quality and in colloquial phrasing.  Learn a stage diction that will pass anywhere in the world as good speech, but will not tie you to a particular locale.  You can always go back to the provincial as part of characterization.  For all plays in translation, use standard stage speech.

Dennis' work was brilliant, in every sense: acting, interpretation, grasp -- brilliant.  He has an imagination which responds quickly to every suggestion and it works in a straight line to a specific goal; it is free yet disciplined.  It is creative, yet it follows the playwright.  He is fortunate, too, in that he has a playwright's mind.  He has a sense of words, their connotations, so his lines have intensified meaning.  And he has a voice which is flexible and interesting and moving.  His rational tones can be more edged, more stripped of emotional nuances, but his voice and diction are important assets.  Dennis has the ability to conceive a character in his mind and instantly this character becomes a complete physical entity.  It does not stay in his head; it moves, talks, becomes an organic whole.  This is the way an actor must function: ideas must instantaneously become action.  Too many of you think too much of what to do.  Be receptive to impressions from life, books, etc.; store them up, trust your imagination to tap these resources and train your bodies and your voices to respond immediately.  Dennis has done this: his acting has brilliance.  During the run of the play he fell into the habit of breaking up lines too much, playing them too weightily.  If we only had time, we should have a quick Friday rehearsal to eliminate bad timing.  But HENRY was always compelling performance because Dennis' thought processes were compelling even when theatrical timing was off.  Remember your first night and recreate this joy of acting in all that you do.
pset conventional theatre reactions; he wants to shock (somewhat as Shaw does), to startle, to horrify, to entertain through pure theatre.  He is not concerned with the actualities of life, but rather with the realities which, paradoxically, can best be revealed through theatrical illusion.  His purpose, however, is not entertainment only; the entertainment must carry realization of the tragedy of men i his mad world.  Drama of idea in a highly theatrical framework -- that Pirandello.

In review, it seems that the opening night performance most effectively achieved this brilliance: it was gripping, shocking, stimulating, provoking and disturbing in its implications.  It precipitated us into a mad world and jarred us with its intimation of causes. You all played with an immediacy of the moment.  It was high voltage drama you created -- shock upon shock: realities in a highly theatrical sense.  Perhaps Pirandello ideas could have been pointed more, I thought at the time.  In retrospect, however, they are more startling than in the later performances.  All performances were gripping, all were interesting, but Wednesday was the most brilliant in all respects.  After Wednesday you lost the (?) of those first realizations, first meetings until Saturday night, you were doing a "remembered" drama, slow and, except for the last act, untheatrical.  You were not releasing audience reactions, not providing relief from tension through laughter as you did on opening night and to some extent on every night but the last.  This release from tension is imperative.  I am not speaking of playing for laughter, but of keeping a snap in line, which can relieve excessive tension.  Lines were broken up too much, played too slowly and terminated, too often, without point.

Jim gave a consistently fine performance.  His doctor was exceptionally Pirandello: the essence of concern with psychiatry, rather than with the human dilemma, the irony of the mad attempting to cure the mad with no concern for human values, no understanding of the real dilemma, no real grasp of the facts which concern them so mightily.  Jim, in every way, from make-up to projection of character traits, vividly presented the greyness of age, the monotone of existence, the emptiness of life without human concern.  Jim's Doctor will stay in our minds as a Pirandello mask labeled psychiatrists -- mask and face have become one.

Belcredi was an excellent creation, too -- a Pirandello figure.  Perhaps there was still too much life in him, too much participation in life and Marshall sometimes over-emphasizes, but he kept the conflict of the drama motivated from the Belcredi angle, he kept is progressing to his death.

Katina did not match Marshall in decadence.  She created aristocracy, scorn, snobbishness, but never the dissoluteness that no mask of aristocracy can cover.  Katina will have to see some of these people, observe them closely, identify with them.  Yes: their spines are erect, but other muscles have sagged, shoulders have sagged a little.  Yest, they walk in straight lines but their very well-shod feet are set down, controlled a little too consciously, too steadily; their too well-kept hands are limp, bracelets and rings weigh them down, they grip things loosely, let go too easily.  "Marchioness" is the label for this decay: when Belcredi and the Marchioness look at each other, it is like looking in a mirror -- they see themselves, are repelled, want to smash the mirror, but have not the vitality to do so.  When Henry looks at them he sees the horror of decay.  Katina knew all this but she did not let her body create it.  And so, too often, she seemed a bystander in the action rather than a central motivation.  Again, I wonder whether Katina truly seems the image of the role she is creating.  Study people and their behavior, Katina, in life, in books, on the stage.  Your mechanics have improved although you do not always relate to others on stage and to objects, but chiefly you need depth in perception.

Both Vance and Claris admirably portrayed these two young beings with no purpose beyond the moment.  Both Claris and Vance act with fine incisiveness, with energy, with economy.

The counselors worked well as a group, established yough, indifference, acting and reality. We made a mistake, I think, in not making or keeping them continental.  They got more American each night.  Guard against our colloquialisms:  "It sure is," etc.  Perhaps it was the Striglos influence.  He did a good job of creating the new coming, he played well the essentials, landed his lines, responded to the situation -- good acting except for looking down too much.  But his speech is too mid-West American in quality and in colloquial phrasing.  Learn a stage diction that will pass anywhere in the world as good speech, but will not tie you to a particular locale.  You can always go back to the provincial as part of characterization.  For all plays in translation, use standard stage speech.

Dennis' work was brilliant, in every sense: acting, interpretation, grasp -- brilliant.  He has an imagination which responds quickly to every suggestion and it works in a straight line to a specific goal; it is free yet disciplined.  It is creative, yet it follows the playwright.  He is fortunate, too, in that he has a playwright's mind.  He has a sense of words, their connotations, so his lines have intensified meaning.  And he has a voice which is flexible and interesting and moving.  His rational tones can be more edged, more stripped of emotional nuances, but his voice and diction are important assets.  Dennis has the ability to conceive a character in his mind and instantly this character becomes a complete physical entity.  It does not stay in his head; it moves, talks, becomes an organic whole.  This is the way an actor must function: ideas must instantaneously become action.  Too many of you think too much of what to do.  Be receptive to impressions from life, books, etc.; store them up, trust your imagination to tap these resources and train your bodies and your voices to respond immediately.  Dennis has done this: his acting has brilliance.  During the run of the play he fell into the habit of breaking up lines too much, playing them too weightily.  If we only had time, we should have a quick Friday rehearsal to eliminate bad timing.  But HENRY was always compelling performance because Dennis' thought processes were compelling even when theatrical timing was off.  Remember your first night and recreate this joy of acting in all that you do.








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