Final Self-Assessment
Before coming to Guilford I regarded Shakespeare as intimidating at best and hackneyed at worst. In the English classrooms of my public schools the subject was barely touched upon, and I did not stray far from bullshitting my way through Romeo and Juliet Spark Notes and watching the Zeffirelli film at the end of the course. In 2011, as a favor to a friend, I played Lysander in a community theater production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The play was set in a summer camp around the year 1969 (well, a highly stereotyped lens of 1969) and the general community theater vibe of talking pretty and showing off was rampant. While I was able to make sense of my lines and had an idea of what was happening throughout the story, I basically tuned out when I was not on stage. The other actors sounded like they were regurgitating droning fluff to me.
I was given the opportunity to take a class on acting in Shakespeare the semester before The House of York. This class was taught by the professor who was to direct the show, who co-compiled the show a few decades ago for the Yale School of Drama, and who also happens to be an internationally renowned scholar of Shakespearean text. This class was a milestone for me as an actor, and not just in regards to Shakespeare. I was finally able to harness the structure and the purpose of iambic pentameter and verse writing in general. I learned how effective scansion work can turn a Shakespearean text from awkward, dated, and disconnected poetry to some of the easiest lines to negotiate as an actor.
As I studied more plays using the correct tools at my disposal, I discovered something I found pretty exciting at the time; that Shakespeare gave his characters very deliberate speech patterns that were unique to their personality. A discipline issue that I have had as an actor is memorizing lines by rote. I have been consistently guilty of subtly paraphrasing my scenes, and I used to think that there was nothing wrong with that so long as the idea remained the same. It is quite astounding how particular every phrase construction and placement are in Shakespeare. “You” compared to “thou” is the difference of formal and informal and the smallest word substitution or drop can throw off the scansion and lead to a noticeably awkward delivery.
I have found in working with my theatre professors that one of my main obstacles as an artist is the way in which I subconsciously but deliberately structure my physical body while on stage. I tend to hold a great amount of tension in certain areas such as my neck and lower back, and this leads to running out of breath at unnatural times and stressing my vocal posture in an unhealthy and possibly damaging manner.
Another professor in the department is experienced and incredibly knowledgeable regarding both voice coaching and actor physicality in areas such as stage combat. His class on voice and diction gave me a consciousness of my body that allows me to release unnecessary tension and support my voice by effectively using my diaphragm. In The House of York I became aware that I was much more liberated onstage if I took the time to ‘destructure’ my body of this tension and made myself aware of my breathe and alignment. I have gotten to the point where, with the correct warm up routine, I can be absolutely in the moment and not have to put any attention on my breath for it takes care of itself.
During one of our tech rehearsals we worked through a scene in which I have a monologue. It was one of our first rehearsals with costumes and some new props I had not been familiar with, so I had allowed myself to get distracted with some bad habits of dealing with new clothes and objects. I also got frustrated because I had to take multiple breaths in lines that I hadn’t had to worry about before. Bad habits were storming my gates and I was dealing with it by throwing more bad habits at them, like gunpowder on a grease fire.
On a longer break when the electricians were solving an involved issue, the director beckoned me over to his chair. He predicted that I probably noticed I had been running out of breath a lot that night. He then told me straight that it was because I had backed off of my actions to the point where I was mostly playing mood. The headache that had formed from the amount of tension I had generated thus far triggered an initial reaction of angered frustration (at myself) and I snorted back with “...OK”. There wasn’t much else to say really, the airborne sergeant in me automatically directed my mind into how to fix the issue.
Before I had time to focus a personal adjustment the electrics called they were up and we had to move on that instant, time was desperately wanting throughout this production. It was fortunate timing for my brain did not have the time to screw itself over again. I, Duke Humphrey, looked at the face of the Earl of Warwick, the Kingmaker, and told him that the haughty new-made Duke of Suffolk had given the lands away in France that he himself had conquered. It took that brief reset switch to get myself out of my own way and allow me to do my job, and this time my body support took care of itself.
While on the subject of training the physical actor, The House of York incorporated the highest level of stage combat I had yet to encounter. I did have an amount of experience dealing with stage combat and other physically demanding facets of performance, and my time in the army taught me how to absorb a fall or blow safely with my body.
This production however involved bladed weapons, with which I had very little practical experience. The production’s time and talent constraints did not allow for elaborate choreography, but there was enough intricacy to demand high concentration. I was really able to get a sense of regarding a fight partner the same as a dance partner or scene partner. There is a give and take, and a sort of ballet that is spontaneous but very deliberate and focused.
There was no script when I first began research for this project. Basically what I had to go off of were the original plays by Shakespeare and the actual historic event, the War of the Roses. From the beginning it was quite obvious that there would be a mountain of information to digest and filter before I could feel confident to approach a character in this world. I started by diving into the history, for it is a natural passion of mine. I did not realize at the time that there were a number of discrepancies between what Shakespeare had composed versus what actually occurred, which lead me to focus mainly on the environmental details of 15th century England instead of specific people and events.
While it was certainly important to include nuances such as typical diet and fashion when researching, I found a more useful foundation to build from when I started to get a grasp on the larger differences between my contemporary world and the one of the play. For example, what death meant to a 15th century English aristocrat was a bit opposed to my modern consideration. There seemed to be a general acknowledgment that death is absolutely everywhere in the late medieval period and the older one got, the more divine favor or simple pure luck they had. Examining the medieval cultural reception of death led me naturally to study the medieval Catholic Church, which engulfed every aspect of life for the English.
Heaven became a very real concentration when one’s life was absolute shit and death was never far off. Another point of research that became more and more crucial to understand was the difference in familial ties among the medieval nobility. The bond between brothers, husbands and wives, and even parents and children could turn from blood-thick and inseparable to water-thin treachery at the drop of a hat, whatever suited the current strategy to gain power and prestige.
This helped me immensely when it came to particularizing my character’s relationships, particularly Richard III. I knew from previous discussion that the director was interested in stepping away from the cold, calculating villain of Shakespeare’s script and exploring the circumstances that Richard had to deal with that caused him to take a number of drastic measures. When facts are separated from fiction, Richard’s tactics to take the throne were not any more debased than his peers.
Our director made it clear early on in the rehearsal process that our story was to be in the vein of a narrative. That translated to me as thus; we as actors were to have a storytelling relationship with the audience. We were mostly aware of their presence and had characters that represented various facets of the story. This included the audience as a certain circle of concentration, with the fourth wall being adapted slightly to allow for an amount of detached voyeurism.
The narrative aspect altered my focus in character and scene research. I concentrated less on the specific life backgrounds of the characters and more on areas such as the popular opinion on them as leaders and monarchs. I felt that comparing what those close to them said and how the populace viewed them would provide useful insight.
I found this direction particularly helpful when I came to forging an approach for smaller roles. My most prominent smaller role was a Yorkist pirate captain who discovered the Duke of Suffolk in a batch of captives and decided to exact revenge on him for the murder of Duke Humphrey. First he tortured the Duke and berated him for his well-known affair with Queen Margaret, then he slit his throat and left him on the shore to rot. Instead of approaching the pirate by spending a weekend researching late medieval piracy and generating the captain’s childhood and rise to rank, I drew from the scene how he progressed the story as a character.
It is true that this scene was based in historic fact; however the pirate captain represents the edge of the blade that can hack as well as any nobleman’s sword, the blade that belongs to the commoners. When nobility started to discredit one another and princes propagated against opponents with the intent to infuriate the mob, they in a sense created a monster whose appetite was not easily appeased. In this instance York’s propaganda worked to his advantage, however some of the upper crust could get caught in their own snare. This was the story that I figured needed to be told, and as a result I had confident and direct actions that never dulled over the course of the production.
Obviously my main characters Duke Humphrey and Richard III were more involved, but the process was generally the same. When I completed my initial circumstance work on Humphrey, digging through Shakespeare and Asimov’s guide and historic secondary sources generated a blurred picture. I then grabbed on to how and why his position influenced the chain of events in the story. The prologue of the play gave me my first starting points; he was Henry V’s brother and he was currently Lord Protector of the Realm.
When I simplified my thought process on how to use the text to aid my discovery of the narrative my task became quite simple. Of course I would slack my focus and lose track on occasion, but not in an unusual way. I did find some useful material in Humphrey the historical figure to drive his actions in regards to the late King Henry V. Humphrey was considered the least courageous out of all four brothers and was noted to outwardly display his admiration for the other three, particularly Henry. He was also known to exaggerate his own exploits in order to appear more deserving of his lineage.
This sort of information helped me to find a through-action that is peppered with close guarded insecurities. Humphrey needed to earn the legacy that had been forged by his brothers’ deeds. He had elaborated his own deeds in order to put himself in position where he could legitimately do his name proud. In other words, Humphrey sort of put his reputation on credit until he could pay it off.
As with the pirate captain, the concentration on somewhat exterior motives allowed me to effectively communicate an action both to the other characters on stage as well as to the audience that brought captivating life to the dialogue and allowed the story to progress within its composed structure.
Approaching Richard III took some deeper consideration. I should note at this point that in an ideal environment I would have committed an equal amount of time on Humphrey and Richard, and I would have committed many more hours total into exploring these characters’ verticality. I found a hidden advantage of the college theatre experience is the learned ability to produce a significant amount of highly involved actor homework while juggling one or more other commitments that take the concentration of an additional career. Once out of college I am sure my operational tempo will launch me into tackling professional work at a hit-the-ground running pace.
So back to Richard, the main difference between his story and Humphrey’s was that Richard’s involved a tragic coming of age subtext that was vital to giving Shakespeare’s monster a human relatability. There had to be a naivety to younger Richard that would allow for a twisted concept of duty to have infected him and molded his heart.
I had to play a fourteen year old Moritz Stiefel in Spring Awakening when I myself was approaching twenty six. I toyed with the idea of an adjustable 'emotion valve' between my heart and brain. The younger a person is, the less time they have had to build a spectrum of emotional responses according to the gravity of life experiences. A childlike Richard was therefore much quicker to react in extreme measures and less prone to have calculated his path. As Richard aged (more from extreme events than years on earth) he held onto the bitter memories, but he discovered ways to channel his efforts with a keen sense of foresight.
Richard’s trust was another key element that corroded with time. It was evident that Richard the boy blindly put his confidence in his father as well as his brothers. His devotion to his father’s cause remained as Richard matured, however he began to perceive rifts in the quality of character among his siblings, and soon saw them as obstacles that had been placed in his path to prove his worthiness as leader of the clan.
This led to an ever-increasing delusion of paranoia that forced him to regard all that surrounded him as pawns to the Yorkist interest that was the king in the Lord’s game of chess. Ultimately Richard himself had to be a pawn (well perhaps he would have regarded himself more as a rook or queen) and realized his unbridled sacrifice had to come to fruition for the cause.
As I explored Richard’s relationship with Anne Neville I was, as usual, left with a myriad of seemingly conflicting circumstances. Ultimately, however, my tracks of thought about his mental development ended up fitting quite well. Anne was dear to Richard as a young child when Richard was living with her family under the tutelage of the Earl of Warwick, Anne’s father. This initial connection would have been unlike any previous, for she was likely the only unrelated female peer whom Richard had contact with. As Anne grew from a child to an attractive woman, Richard’s feelings naturally and legitimately grew.
When Warwick’s betrayal and Anne’s fall from grace were put into the mix of his logical empire-making side, Richard was faced with one of the harshest conflicts between his heart and head. As was Richard, his mind would always triumph over what he considered childish lust, and Anne simply had to be willing to sacrifice along with the rest. She would have been ultimately rewarded in the afterlife, after all.
Our director brought on his colleague’s twelve year old son David to play the York boy Rutland. David was only able to attend a brief number of rehearsals and had a tight schedule because of his school. This made some of us nervous about how reliable David would be; would he remember his lines? Would there be a performance where he could not show up? Would his acting be so juvenile that it would distract from the scenes?
From the moment David came to his first rehearsal I have to say that he demonstrated some of the best focus compared to many of the college students I have worked with. If he was nervous or timid it did not show, he simply followed the basic instruction of the director and used his focused imagination to move his actions. I started to take note of David’s disposition while he was on and off stage to figure out how he was succeeding where his nineteen year old fellow thespians were falling short.
One of the main differences, I believe, was that David was grateful to be a part of this production. He did not express this gratitude by trying to show off or get buddy-buddy with the college kids, but rather he stayed on task and did not waste valuable time. Another key difference was David’s willingness to take a direction and go with it without any inhibitions of self-image or insecurity. When the director wanted him to cough and gag as he lay dying from a stab wound, David absolutely committed without hamming it up.
When dealing with younger people in situations such as this I always make a point to come to them as if they were an adult peer. David’s maturity and humility basically demanded that he be regarded as such, and it was indeed a learning experience for me to work with him.
I had a highly satisfying breakthrough during the run of this show. For the first time I maintained the area of focus that I had been in during rehearsals on the night of a performance, and on two of our three nights at that. I believe this was because of an epiphany I had during the rehearsal process, that there was a cut off when I had to stop exploring as an actor and start exploring solely as a character. Before The House of York this line had been very grey with me, but suddenly I really understood how crucial my circumstantial focus must be in order for spontaneity to happen within the secured world of the play.
In January I auditioned for three highly competitive masters programs. I took a week to drive to New York City and negotiated the very unfamiliar world of the NYC auditioning actor. At the time I felt like I did just fine in two of the three, I already knew I had sort of blown the first one. I was therefore set back somewhat when I learned throughout this show’s rehearsal process that all three had rejected me. The deeper I got in this project however, the more I realized that I had left a wealth of my focus tools as an actor at the door of the audition studios. Much like the trap I got in during that tech run as Humphrey, I allowed the elements of my stressful environment to overwhelm my senses and transform me into a sporadic mood self-generator. Like anything else, I had to accept this lesson learned and eagerly look forward to my next audition where I can get it better.
The House of York has instilled a drive within me to keep exploring Shakespeare. I feel that if I allow too much time to pass without studying the bard I will lose this perishable skill set that I have acquired dealing with this specific text. Additionally I feel that if I involve myself with a level of a Shakespeare production that is similar to my Midsummer experience, I will probably go batshit insane with the other actors. This production has further embedded my desire to dig much deeper within myself as an artist, and I am confident that I have the discipline to effectively explore and never grow tired.