Join this blog and former O'Neill Studio Independent Artist Tracee Chimo on it.
Tracee recently attended the Lucille Lortel Awards for which she was nominated for Best Actress (in a category that included Edie Falco and Laurie Metcalf, a beloved theater favorite who won).
Only days later she received the coveted Clarence Dewart Award for most promising young female artist in the theatre. (http://www.playbill.com/news/article/150804-Tracee-Chimo-and-Santino-Fontana-Win-Clarence-Derwent-Awards).
She made her Broadway debut in 2009 in Irena’s Vow and has since made an indelible impression on critics and audiences in Circle Mirror Transformation, Break of Noon and
Bachelorette (Lortel Nom).
After she was recently profiled in The NY Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/14/theater/14chimo.html) I asked her to articulate what she learned at The O’Neill Studio. She wrote the following:
“You taught me to breathe. To simply be exactly where you are, wherever that may be.
‘Let the text carry you.’ I remember you saying over and over. ‘Stop trying to carry the text. Don't drag it with you..let the words bring you to all the places you're meant to go. You'll surprise yourself every time, if you let it be your guide.'
You taught me to ‘let go,’ dude. You were the one who taught me to ‘surrender’.
I'll never forget that.”
When she received her first award in 2009, our Studio's O’Neill Credo Award, it was presented by Marian Seldes. Afterward Marian spoke, Tracee had her turn and said to the group of young actors “you have no idea how nice is feels to hear the word 'yes.'”
Yes, dude.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
O'Neill as Opera
Theatre is opera and opera is theatre. Or so goes the theme of my 20-year conversation with legendary director Frank Corsaro. It has taken place at Juilliard, The Actors Studio and in Italian restaurants near both.
When Frank received an honorary doctorate from Juilliard in 2010, he shared the stage with Tony Bennett, Patty Lupone, Mikhail Baryshnikov and Tony Kushner. When a list of his accomplishments was read from the stage, Juilliard president Joseph Polisi organized the salute into two separate categories, theater and opera.
In theater, Frank is known as the original director of Tennessee William’s The Night of the Iguana and Michael Gazzo’s A Hatful of Rain. He was artistic director of The Actors Studio for a decade. Among his acting students were Steve McQueen and Harvey Keitel.
In opera, he staged over 50 new productions as a resident director at New York City Opera and a guest director at The Met. His 22 years of teaching at the Juilliard Opera Center have made an indelible impact on the art of acting in opera. His students included Renee Fleming, whom he recently directed in her first La Traviata.
At commencement, Mr. Polisi acknowledged Frank’s impact on both worlds, but for me his legacy also includes the impact of each side of his art on the other.
Frank spearheaded theatrical realism in opera, and has been its leading proponent and its finest practitioner. But he also brought an unusually heightened sense of theatricality to spoken theater, and a specifically operatic one at that.
I had the opportunity to observe both of his lives at close range. This first hand experience took place simultaneously as a member of the Playwright-Director Unit at The Actors Studio and as an assistant director at The Juilliard Opera Center.
But the real apprenticeship took place at the Italian restaurants. “Directing is a very special art” he would say over pasta, spinach and wine. By “special” he meant that there was no book or manual for directing opera, not even a modern tradition such as can be found for performers. In his case it is an exceptionally special one when you consider that his perspective is equally informed by both sides of his art.
His ecumenical view of musical and spoken theater has guided the course of my work with O’Neill’s plays. Since he emphasized the musical qualities of spoken theater, his influence led me to first think of O’Neill’s plays in operatic terms.
This realization first struck me when I did a turn it as an actor in one of his workshops with “method” actors. I was working on a monologue from an O’Neill play and was straining to be believable. The result was resoundingly unsuccessful.
Frank asked me what I was thinking while I worked. I told him that I was trying to not be over-the-top or “operatic” as I put it. I wanted to be truthful. He then asked me to do it "operatically," or what I thought of as such.
When I did, I felt the power beneath the words take hold because he told me to embrace the very thing I was consciously avoiding.
This experience began me thinking of O’Neill as opera. The length and scale of O’Neill’s works find a musical equivalent in grand opera, in which characters from legend, myth and classical drama often fill the stage. Staging these works requires the presence of an orchestra of symphonic scale as well as singing actors with voices that can be heard ringing above it.
On the American stage, Frank added the ring of truth to the mix. He raised the standard of acting in opera through his pivotal role in creating a modern theatrical tradition for it.
Thos theatrical values were of the highly realistic tradition of The Actors Studio, where Lee Strasberg was artistic director, a position which Frank would eventually assume himself, having once been a protégé to Strasberg.
When Frank first invited me to observe his work at The Actors Studio, I entered a world where a where the Studio membership was fixed on “sense memory,” “effectively memory” and other tools of the “method” as Strasberg’s approach came to be known.
I watched Frank impose his own independent vision to the work at The Actors Studio, a sensibility informed as much by his work in opera as in theatre.
Frank stated outright that the membership of The Actors Studio was lost in memory, specifically that of Lee himself, the father of “the method.”
Frank challenged some of Strasberg’s basic principals by emphasizing the benefits of using the imagination, instead of memory, as the doorway to inspiration for the actor.
Similarly, his message to the opera world was a wake-up call to move on from the pre-war view of the singer as a solely vocal instrument.
Naturally, he met resistance along the way in both situations. But from where I was standing he was doing what he did best, that of daring closed minds to open.
When Frank received an honorary doctorate from Juilliard in 2010, he shared the stage with Tony Bennett, Patty Lupone, Mikhail Baryshnikov and Tony Kushner. When a list of his accomplishments was read from the stage, Juilliard president Joseph Polisi organized the salute into two separate categories, theater and opera.
In theater, Frank is known as the original director of Tennessee William’s The Night of the Iguana and Michael Gazzo’s A Hatful of Rain. He was artistic director of The Actors Studio for a decade. Among his acting students were Steve McQueen and Harvey Keitel.
In opera, he staged over 50 new productions as a resident director at New York City Opera and a guest director at The Met. His 22 years of teaching at the Juilliard Opera Center have made an indelible impact on the art of acting in opera. His students included Renee Fleming, whom he recently directed in her first La Traviata.
At commencement, Mr. Polisi acknowledged Frank’s impact on both worlds, but for me his legacy also includes the impact of each side of his art on the other.
Frank spearheaded theatrical realism in opera, and has been its leading proponent and its finest practitioner. But he also brought an unusually heightened sense of theatricality to spoken theater, and a specifically operatic one at that.
I had the opportunity to observe both of his lives at close range. This first hand experience took place simultaneously as a member of the Playwright-Director Unit at The Actors Studio and as an assistant director at The Juilliard Opera Center.
But the real apprenticeship took place at the Italian restaurants. “Directing is a very special art” he would say over pasta, spinach and wine. By “special” he meant that there was no book or manual for directing opera, not even a modern tradition such as can be found for performers. In his case it is an exceptionally special one when you consider that his perspective is equally informed by both sides of his art.
His ecumenical view of musical and spoken theater has guided the course of my work with O’Neill’s plays. Since he emphasized the musical qualities of spoken theater, his influence led me to first think of O’Neill’s plays in operatic terms.
This realization first struck me when I did a turn it as an actor in one of his workshops with “method” actors. I was working on a monologue from an O’Neill play and was straining to be believable. The result was resoundingly unsuccessful.
Frank asked me what I was thinking while I worked. I told him that I was trying to not be over-the-top or “operatic” as I put it. I wanted to be truthful. He then asked me to do it "operatically," or what I thought of as such.
When I did, I felt the power beneath the words take hold because he told me to embrace the very thing I was consciously avoiding.
This experience began me thinking of O’Neill as opera. The length and scale of O’Neill’s works find a musical equivalent in grand opera, in which characters from legend, myth and classical drama often fill the stage. Staging these works requires the presence of an orchestra of symphonic scale as well as singing actors with voices that can be heard ringing above it.
On the American stage, Frank added the ring of truth to the mix. He raised the standard of acting in opera through his pivotal role in creating a modern theatrical tradition for it.
Thos theatrical values were of the highly realistic tradition of The Actors Studio, where Lee Strasberg was artistic director, a position which Frank would eventually assume himself, having once been a protégé to Strasberg.
When Frank first invited me to observe his work at The Actors Studio, I entered a world where a where the Studio membership was fixed on “sense memory,” “effectively memory” and other tools of the “method” as Strasberg’s approach came to be known.
I watched Frank impose his own independent vision to the work at The Actors Studio, a sensibility informed as much by his work in opera as in theatre.
Frank stated outright that the membership of The Actors Studio was lost in memory, specifically that of Lee himself, the father of “the method.”
Frank challenged some of Strasberg’s basic principals by emphasizing the benefits of using the imagination, instead of memory, as the doorway to inspiration for the actor.
Similarly, his message to the opera world was a wake-up call to move on from the pre-war view of the singer as a solely vocal instrument.
Naturally, he met resistance along the way in both situations. But from where I was standing he was doing what he did best, that of daring closed minds to open.
Monday, May 16, 2011
From Kevin Spacey - "Let O'Neill Carry You."
"By yielding you may obtain victory" Ovid
You need free flowing emotion to play O'Neill. That said, emotion, like a cat, seems to come when you don't call rather when you do. So what do you to summon it?
You try to establish flow and then, as Kevin Spacey said to me, "let O'Neill carry you."
Here are some thoughts from our Independent Artists and my response to them all related to the battle for flow.
MICHEAL
"...I constantly feel great energy on stage that I somehow can't release or don't know what to do with.
However, when I worked I was not thinking about the upcoming moments and just trying to deal with what I had and also to not tense up.
It created a natural flow of energy that was terrifying and very real to be in. This made it alive for me, and surprising for me…because I was actually there”
Micheal, this is exactly the problem I had when I was working with Mr. Meisner. I wanted to explode. Hell, for me that was the whole point of acting. It wasn’t until I learned to leave myself alone that I began to understand how to use myself in my work.
LYNN
It was a great session last week. With Michael it was like a wall was broken down.
I feel myself being able to go bigger in my work, and feel the space that is there for me on stage."
Since you are getting ready to begin work on O’Neill’s Anna Christie, I think you’ll see that the freedom that is creeping in your work a new is essential to beginning work on his plays. With it comes freer flow of emotion.
DANIELLE
I am very much someone who likes to have control of the situation- not sure of why I chose a career in acting ha-ha- but when you do take your moment, take a deep breath, and start to speak- you would think you could have a little taste of it...
..but for me that is usually when the doubt creeps in the "resistance" - for me it takes form in tightness in my jaw- and the "runaway monologue syndrome".
Try to not tighten when you feel the grip start to close. Slow down the runaway train, take a searching breath and you'll begin to restore the flow. You'll find that the negotiation with tension becomes more and more managable and the flow enjoyable, even in O'Neill's darkest material.
Once the flow is restored, O'Neill will carry you.
You need free flowing emotion to play O'Neill. That said, emotion, like a cat, seems to come when you don't call rather when you do. So what do you to summon it?
You try to establish flow and then, as Kevin Spacey said to me, "let O'Neill carry you."
Here are some thoughts from our Independent Artists and my response to them all related to the battle for flow.
MICHEAL
"...I constantly feel great energy on stage that I somehow can't release or don't know what to do with.
However, when I worked I was not thinking about the upcoming moments and just trying to deal with what I had and also to not tense up.
It created a natural flow of energy that was terrifying and very real to be in. This made it alive for me, and surprising for me…because I was actually there”
Micheal, this is exactly the problem I had when I was working with Mr. Meisner. I wanted to explode. Hell, for me that was the whole point of acting. It wasn’t until I learned to leave myself alone that I began to understand how to use myself in my work.
LYNN
It was a great session last week. With Michael it was like a wall was broken down.
I feel myself being able to go bigger in my work, and feel the space that is there for me on stage."
Since you are getting ready to begin work on O’Neill’s Anna Christie, I think you’ll see that the freedom that is creeping in your work a new is essential to beginning work on his plays. With it comes freer flow of emotion.
DANIELLE
I am very much someone who likes to have control of the situation- not sure of why I chose a career in acting ha-ha- but when you do take your moment, take a deep breath, and start to speak- you would think you could have a little taste of it...
..but for me that is usually when the doubt creeps in the "resistance" - for me it takes form in tightness in my jaw- and the "runaway monologue syndrome".
Try to not tighten when you feel the grip start to close. Slow down the runaway train, take a searching breath and you'll begin to restore the flow. You'll find that the negotiation with tension becomes more and more managable and the flow enjoyable, even in O'Neill's darkest material.
Once the flow is restored, O'Neill will carry you.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
POLAR ACTORS
Actor Polarities
In a recent session we discussed some polarities which the actor often faced, specifically “actor vs. entertainer,” “talent vs. skill” and “open vs. closed.”
ACTOR VS. ENTERTAINER
Alex and I had an interesting exchange about the difference between being an actor and an entertainer. Entertainers have a way of leading you exactly where you know you want to go.
But an actor exists on another plane, by being willing to always find a new road to the known conclusion, they take the audience to a new place though paths hitherto unknown. Even when the entire audience knows the follow up line to “to be or not to be” the artist finds it a new by living in a state of non-expectation. This is no small feat when both actor and audience meet in familiar material.
Some actors are solely entertainers. They play “a single wash of color,” to quote Alex.
I can enjoy entertainers, but there is nothing like watching truly adventurous actors play their edge. In playing O’Neill you have no choice but to do so, since the alternative is anything but entertaining.
TALENT VS. SKILL
Lynn and I discussed a reliance on your rather than skill. It’s a fresh use of the word, but let’s consider it.
You can skip steps and just “go with” your talent, which is what usually happens when working fast as in film or TV. But if you break it down and work your way and then just “go” with it, the place you go is infinitely richer.
In the end our talent is all we have. Mr. Meisner used the word a lot, but in doing so made us young’ins feel like we had none. But what he was saying was once you know how to work and do the work you know, you get so acting is just going with it.
OPEN VS. CLOSED
Micheal's email to me beautifully articulated what its like to be in the “genuine confusion” stage of the process best called “the continuum of opening up.”
From inside the envelope, if you will, the place where the actor lives while he works, the new level is one of utter fog. You feel you are on when you are off and vise versa. As you settle into comfort with that stage, the sense of confusion changes from an adversarial to a friendly one.
In Mike’s case constriction of breath was the obvious problem. The “control” reflex that we are trying to disable in favor of a more “surrendered” one immediate tries to retake the wheel.
As my teacher, Peter, would say: “the ego doesn’t like being put out of a job.”
But in fact ego is the problem. I am not referring to vanity or but to the system of fears and flinches with which we negotiate as we seek to find emotional transparency on stage.
Not that the characters in a play or film show all of their feelings all of the time but when the actor seeks to find a more direct connection to emotion, the immediate goal is to play simple reality.
And not surprisingly, playing simple reality is anything but simple, there are contridictions and polarities to manage along the way. But when you manage them successfully acting is its own reward.
In a recent session we discussed some polarities which the actor often faced, specifically “actor vs. entertainer,” “talent vs. skill” and “open vs. closed.”
ACTOR VS. ENTERTAINER
Alex and I had an interesting exchange about the difference between being an actor and an entertainer. Entertainers have a way of leading you exactly where you know you want to go.
But an actor exists on another plane, by being willing to always find a new road to the known conclusion, they take the audience to a new place though paths hitherto unknown. Even when the entire audience knows the follow up line to “to be or not to be” the artist finds it a new by living in a state of non-expectation. This is no small feat when both actor and audience meet in familiar material.
Some actors are solely entertainers. They play “a single wash of color,” to quote Alex.
I can enjoy entertainers, but there is nothing like watching truly adventurous actors play their edge. In playing O’Neill you have no choice but to do so, since the alternative is anything but entertaining.
TALENT VS. SKILL
Lynn and I discussed a reliance on your rather than skill. It’s a fresh use of the word, but let’s consider it.
You can skip steps and just “go with” your talent, which is what usually happens when working fast as in film or TV. But if you break it down and work your way and then just “go” with it, the place you go is infinitely richer.
In the end our talent is all we have. Mr. Meisner used the word a lot, but in doing so made us young’ins feel like we had none. But what he was saying was once you know how to work and do the work you know, you get so acting is just going with it.
OPEN VS. CLOSED
Micheal's email to me beautifully articulated what its like to be in the “genuine confusion” stage of the process best called “the continuum of opening up.”
From inside the envelope, if you will, the place where the actor lives while he works, the new level is one of utter fog. You feel you are on when you are off and vise versa. As you settle into comfort with that stage, the sense of confusion changes from an adversarial to a friendly one.
In Mike’s case constriction of breath was the obvious problem. The “control” reflex that we are trying to disable in favor of a more “surrendered” one immediate tries to retake the wheel.
As my teacher, Peter, would say: “the ego doesn’t like being put out of a job.”
But in fact ego is the problem. I am not referring to vanity or but to the system of fears and flinches with which we negotiate as we seek to find emotional transparency on stage.
Not that the characters in a play or film show all of their feelings all of the time but when the actor seeks to find a more direct connection to emotion, the immediate goal is to play simple reality.
And not surprisingly, playing simple reality is anything but simple, there are contridictions and polarities to manage along the way. But when you manage them successfully acting is its own reward.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
That's How I Roll
A quote contributed by one of our group:
"Anything worth doing is worth doing slowly." - Mae West
O'Neill's plays require a very intense emotion connection. With the introduction of The Roller, we all found a shortcut to that place. It takes a lot of such work to make create permanent access to that place. And yes, it is a slow process, but each of you are in it.
From ALEX: “I really enjoyed working with the roller. It was key in helping remind me to play and find humor in the darkness. That's what that piece really needed.”
Alex remind us that you have to go with your inclinations. To quote Jack Nicholson “I go with my instincts no matter how wrong I think they are.”
FROM LYNN: “It was also cool two see the other actors work on the roller, before I did, because I got to see it's impact before actually experiencing it. What a powerful tool. Man, I could have stayed on that....It's all about relaxing for me, and the roller just confirms it even more. Every thing I need as an actor is inside me. The more I relax the more there is available for me to work with and the deeper I can go.
The roller shows us how barricaded we often are within ourselves. We have to keep the ramparts thin.
FROM MICHAEL: ‘One thing that I keep thinking about is that after I worked on the roller, I felt ready. It was interesting cause I was in this relaxed yet energized state. To put it in a different way, I felt like I was about to kick ass. Really. I felt confident, but not worried. Like I was filled with a precise energy that I could use, rather than let it use me. I remember coming up and feeling like I could do anything. A few of my teachers talk about how athletes will "be in the zone", and being one myself I have felt that feeling (although very sparingly). After the roller, I felt in the zone. Focused, confident and relaxed. What a feeling. When I went into text however, I felt it was lost a little bit. It was refreshing to not know where the monologue was going though. Less stress.”
Michael reminds us that when we are free, before we know it, we're on a roll.
It is one on which O'Neill's words can freely roll too.
"Anything worth doing is worth doing slowly." - Mae West
O'Neill's plays require a very intense emotion connection. With the introduction of The Roller, we all found a shortcut to that place. It takes a lot of such work to make create permanent access to that place. And yes, it is a slow process, but each of you are in it.
From ALEX: “I really enjoyed working with the roller. It was key in helping remind me to play and find humor in the darkness. That's what that piece really needed.”
Alex remind us that you have to go with your inclinations. To quote Jack Nicholson “I go with my instincts no matter how wrong I think they are.”
FROM LYNN: “It was also cool two see the other actors work on the roller, before I did, because I got to see it's impact before actually experiencing it. What a powerful tool. Man, I could have stayed on that....It's all about relaxing for me, and the roller just confirms it even more. Every thing I need as an actor is inside me. The more I relax the more there is available for me to work with and the deeper I can go.
The roller shows us how barricaded we often are within ourselves. We have to keep the ramparts thin.
FROM MICHAEL: ‘One thing that I keep thinking about is that after I worked on the roller, I felt ready. It was interesting cause I was in this relaxed yet energized state. To put it in a different way, I felt like I was about to kick ass. Really. I felt confident, but not worried. Like I was filled with a precise energy that I could use, rather than let it use me. I remember coming up and feeling like I could do anything. A few of my teachers talk about how athletes will "be in the zone", and being one myself I have felt that feeling (although very sparingly). After the roller, I felt in the zone. Focused, confident and relaxed. What a feeling. When I went into text however, I felt it was lost a little bit. It was refreshing to not know where the monologue was going though. Less stress.”
Michael reminds us that when we are free, before we know it, we're on a roll.
It is one on which O'Neill's words can freely roll too.
Reponse from Alex to "The Dark Joy"
I love that "the actor must transcend style and take possession of his imagination." That way the actor can give himself permission to be free in the text and not be confined to an ideal that can cause one to drag the words along. Focusing on imagination and inspiration makes working on O'Neill inviting and exciting to an actor instead of intimidating.
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