Thursday, November 13, 2014

Take note: That's what I'm giving*

I actually enjoy giving director's notes to the cast.

During much of the rehearsal period, as a director, you are breaking the play down into scenes, into moments. I am very vocal during this period, jumping to my feet YES! or ACK! Stop! Do it again- think about where you just were! What do you want?

Later on, however, we have to put it all back together, establish continuity, rhythm, pace, the long arcs of the characters and of the play itself. We can't stop. We run through, all the way through the scene, the act, finally the entire play.

While I, like most directors, take notes.

Sometimes, because the hour is late and actors (and I) have to go home, I type up the notes and email them to the actors after I've returned home. I don't like to do this because A) actors may not understand a specific note, B) actors may not read the notes and C) I like to give notes.

I like to give notes. I do. I make eye contact. I make jokes. I exaggerate, exhort, and expound. I prance and I posture, I prod and I praise.

From time to time, I may have to shush the actors who are starting side conversations. After all, for many years, the actors with whom I have worked have been teens.

Still, all in all, I have fun giving notes, and the actors have fun receiving the notes.

Here are some of the key ingredients for good note-giving:

  • Make eye contact. Make sure the actors are listening.
  • EVERY actor should receive a comment. Each actor should know that they are important, and that their work is (literally) noted.
  • Use humor. I use a lot of humor at my own expense... I tease and challenge them to be bigger, bolder, more energized than this "old lady"
  • Catch them doing something right; be specific about when it happened, and what it was. Comments like "you're great" or "good job" might feel good for a moment, but they don't tell the actor where they are succeeding or how to build on that success. A comment like: "I could really see you focus on the other character on your line 'Not now, darling''" tells the actor what is working and when.
  • Be specific about what you want the actor to change. Comments such as "That's no good" or "I didn't like that" again do not give the actor any useful information. A comment like "When you enter in scene two, try rushing straight to the couch- remember what just happened to the character before you entered" gives the actor useful information about what needs work in the scene, and a suggestion for a new approach.
  • I try to give both the "director's reason" and the "actor's reason" for a direction. For instance, in the above example, I might remind the actor that the actor's reason- the character's reason- for rushing in is that the character is escaping from an uncomfortable encounter in the other room; while I will admit that my "director's reason" for asking you to rush in and cross to the couch is that the scene needs more energy, and I need you out of the doorway!
  • Be a believer. Believe in the play, believe in your actors, believe in theater magic. Keep cheering, keep watching, noting, and sharing what you see. Eventually, it all comes together- how? It's a mystery!
*This is a re-post that I re-read and re-felt today. FINAL DRESS TECH TONIGHT

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Everybody ought to have a stage manager.

Stage managers are awesome. A good stage manager is beyond price. No kidding.

I really didn't realize this back when I was a young actor. I focused on the director. I focused on the other actors. I worked on my inner reality.

I heard the stage manager. I called back, "Thanks, 10!" when I heard the announcement "Ten minutes to places!"

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't rude. I wasn't one of those actors who thinks the stage managers or other techies are unworthy of notice. Not at all! I've always been an ensemble gal, so I felt keenly that every single person involved was part of our team.

However, as a young actor, who had not directed, or designed, or run lights, or plotted sound- I had NO CLUE. I was ignorant.

Now, having been blessed several times with good stage managers (and blighted a few times with poor ones), I cannot sing their praises loudly enough.

Stage managers are superheroes.

They have super powers- like super hearing. A stage manager will overhear an actor muttering about fumbling and stumbling during a scene transition, and suddenly there is glow tape on the problematic corner or an additional blue light backstage.

They have stamina and unbelievable endurance. They are with the production from the first production meeting or read through on to closing night.

They are masters of multi-tasking. They are monitoring lines from the actors, cues for the lights and the sound, tracking the props.

They are flexible and adaptable beyond belief, working with last minute blocking changes from directors or finding solutions to scenic or costume change fails during last tech rehearsals or even (Heaven FORBID) during performance.

I've directed for many years now, and I've designed, and I've crewed. I am no longer without a clue.

I know.

All praise to you, stage managers. You are the glue that keeps a production together through the battering of tech and the wear and tear of performance.

As the old joke goes:
- How many stage managers does it take to change a ligh-
DONE!