John Clark Pro Se Blog

When you get to my age, a refresher covering most aspects of an active life in the Showbusiness is always a good idea.  Also, the nature of the current showbiz tends to get away from you.  With that in mind, I noticed a 1 week movie-making course being given just down the road from me, at the premises of Universal Studios (which brought back memories of the House Calls disaster).

The course, which cost $1,500, covered the latest advances in communication and supply of recorded entertainment to the masses - unlike live theatre, with which I have always been more comfortable back in New York.

The six day course was provided by the Hollywood branch of the New York Film Academy, in a surprisingly clean and modern office building, and bussed students to the nearby Universal lot, where we could shoot on their Western and European sets, or practice location work in Griffith Park.

Provided was the latest in video camera equipment (Panasonic), and editing software (Final Cut Pro). Things being what they are, these days, state-of-the-art changes take place almost every day.

The instructors are seasoned professionals, taking time out from their not busy enough creative schedules, to impart some of their special knowledge to people like me, and their acting students were happy enough to perform for my camera.  An aside here, I have too much respect for SAG and AFTRA and Equity members to expect them to work for nothing (sorry USC and UCLA student wannabe movie makers, and their elite schools who demand professional performer freebies, giving nothing in return.)

Day 1 the class of just 6 paired off, and then we met the instructors who introduced us to student actors we'd work with, and described the functions of the workshops and the safety hazards to avoid on set. We were also told to prepare a 2 or 3 minute story to be shot in about 20 shots, with a point of view, a beginning, and an end. Day 2 we were introduced to video cameras, their technical capabilities and how to operate them, and Day 3 was a discussion on screen-writing, with the necessity for story containing conflict and suspense, then a trip to Griffith Park just to test out the cameras. As a stills photographer more comfortable with 35mm film, I was told to just multiply the unfamiliar exposure settings of video by 7.2, to get recognizable results.  Day 4 we met the editor guy, who put post-production in its place, and showed how the editor could make or break a film. I didn't know that Walter Murch made Apocalypse Now into a movie out of a mess of a million shots. Murch believes in editing from a standing position, and asked to be left alone for many days in a dark quiet room, producing a masterpiece. Then we went out to the U. lot, on a very hot day of pure exhaustion. But it was worth it. And after, I slept well. Day 5 was spent editing what we shot, and trying to put muscle memory into the fingers in the dark in an attempt to operate the computer keys. And the final day, it was viewing the results, mutually criticizing the 6 movie clips, and taking home the DVD for further work (maybe.) Audio and special effects and lighting were deemed too complicated to tackle in a 1-week course. Agreed.

So my next thought is to buy a Canon digital camera to go with my FCP Studio package which I hadn't yet dared inspect. Thank you NY Film Academy and the instructors I met. I'm happy to promote all of it. A freebie from me.

Next I look forward once again to Digital Day at the Directors Guild headquarters at the end of July.  A chance to see the latest advances in digital cameras and to get inside the heads of famous directors and software makers.

But for now it's back to Wimbledon. 6' 9" John Isner, 68 all, final set, the Queen, what more could you want for unbearable suspense (unless it's U.S.A. v. England in the World Cup)?

I have to admit that this is the only sitcom that I hurry home to watch. It's a lesson in comedy writing construction, and one notices that it remains listed at the top of the public's favorites after 7 years.

A lot of this is due to Chuck Lorre, and readers deserve to be linked to his website, which will provide a lot of "insider" views on showbiz, comedy, and life in general that are really worth reading.

Excellent article in today's NY Times, about the difficulty of cramming other people's words into your brain, and making them come out as though you had just thought of them.

Learning lines

I never heard of having a prompter sitting in the first row, and mouthing your lines to you, as apparently Matthew Broderick has availed himself of in the opening performances of Starry Messenger. Or having a tiny speaker in your ear, as apparently Angela Lansbury did during her recent foray into Blithe Spirit.  She says that's to be expected if you're 84.  Poor Mr. Matt Mulhern just got himself fired from the Hartford Stage Company for pasting a few errant lines into his hat, and then referring to them out of dire necessity. Then there's my ex, who has thrown her hands in the air, and just reads the damn thing, in her discourse about her grandmother in Nightingale.

Me, I've always had terrible trouble learning lines. I started out as a BBC radio actor, and reading the script became the normal way to do it.  Even now, I scan the page into my head, and still read it. The scanning process takes a while. During my days of weekly rep, I was fast.  Now, a rate of an ASA of about 6, if I'm lucky.

There's the method approach. First get the character, next the thoughts, the feelings in sync. and the words will undoubtedly come. Maybe.  Maybe not the author's words, but perhaps something even better(?)

But there will always be blocks, words or phrases that refuse to jump into place.  Then trickery is used, links from pictures, initials, numbers, anything that works.

There are some freaks who are blessed with a magic brain, that remembers and hangs on to everything in a flash, no problem. And that's just not fair.

Standup is tough. I know, I've been doing a few open mikes. My subject is Old Age. You have to make it funny. It's the only medium I haven't tried, and it's very challenging, for it requires writing skills as well as performance with a hand mike, and a good sense of humor.

I see that my ex, Lynn Redgrave, just opened a standup show called Rachel and Juliet at the Folger in Washington DC.  She needs to know that some comedy tricks are considered hack, like falling over. Some fans saw it, and put it on their blog.  Here, read about it..

I'm halfway through the book, and just came upon this thoughtful review by Amanda Fortini which goes to the heart of what I am beginning to think too. I can also picture my ex sister-in-law the way I remember her exactly, from this description of her performance.

What interests me is the way the reviewer shows how much is not revealed by the author Joan Didion to her readers and audience. Her lack of transparency choice does add to the quality of mystery, which she says has a certain snob appeal, and that, of course, has the expected and perhaps studied side effect of causing people to want more.

The following is must reading by their followers.

The Year of Magical Thinking review.

I saw "Nightingale" last night.

I was waiting with Miyuki under a tree for some mutual friends who'd been visiting you, and you walked alone with your dog to your car, looked straight at me, and passed on. Well, I guess that means you don't want to be friends, and it's your choice, and it means I have to give you two notes this way.

Oh, you know that I also saw it at the "tryout" last February, and it is certainly much improved, and your acting was excellent, the scenery and your outfit work very well.

NOTES, JUST 2:

You noticed that people did not stand at the end, and I believe you've had some walkouts. I don't think they were bored, but that they weren't "with you". And I think that this is because they felt a little bit "alienated" from you and your play's character. Here's what I think you can do about it. And remember, I'm fresh eyes for you and your director. Try to incorporate these before you close on Sunday, it might be your last chance.

1. The audience feels a little uncomfortable throughout, because they don't know who they are supposed to be. I mean, when somebody is talking at you, essentially unasked, it's a bit off-putting. But they do want to know. Especially if they're not an English audience who may not need this encouragement.

At the top when you first go into your grandmother's character, sit upstage in the restaurant, and imagine your close friend is sitting opposite you (in the same eyeline as the audience) while you have tea together. Aim your first lines at her, and when you have established it is her you are talking to, ever so gradually, bit by bit, shift your attention to the audience. In other words, the audience will become that friend, and will then settle back for the rest of the show. Remember, as I've always said, the very start of a show is perhaps the most important part, because if you don't get 'em then, you may not get another chance.

So you see, a small note, but a very important one.

2. My other note is a writing adjustment. I think it is foolish to say that you are making the entire story up, about your grandmother. We don't really want to hear that, because then we think "well, she existed, didn't she, you met her when you were a child, can't you tell us anything that you know is a fact?"

This is a fact-based society today if you're dealing in facts not fiction. You are detailing a real person whom you knew. There are facts in there, and while it's true that you are speculating about her marriage and her character, you shouldn't say you just made it up. You don't need to say it really happened either. Just don't refer to it, and the question won't even get asked. Just launch into your piece, believing every word, and we will too.

Do these things, and I think the audience will stand at the end.

Say hi to your director Joe for me, and can he get me another job on his ABC daytime soap? I really need it this time.

June 1, 2007
I see you have opened at Hartford, Connecticut in an improved version of your play, and I read an interesting review by Frank Rizzo in Variety. Critics should not compromise objectivity about their subject actors as Rizzo has by interviewing you in a cozy pre-production paid chat for the Hartford Courant. They should, by definition, remain alienated from actors if they are to retain any credible integrity, but maybe it paid off for you. Anyway, in the absence of seeing the new version for myself, here's what I read: Variety review

Seems you have re-written and personalized it more and are still working on it. Meanwhile, what is next? I think you may be circling around waiting to pounce on me for your next play, and you know what? I hope so. I want to find out why you did what you did to me.

Meanwhile, say hello to my old employees, Rui Rita, your lighting person who took over from dear departed Tom Skelton on our SFMF play, and also to Carol (no relation) Clark, our stage manager. And as you should know, I wish only the best for you in your professional career, even though I no longer have a piece of it.

June 10, 2007 The NY Times came out with their NY Times review this morning.

July 30, 2006
Back to showbiz.

Yesterday I spent a long, dizzying and rewarding day of seminars at the Hollywood branch of the Directors Guild, catching up with other members on the sea-change taking place in the moviemaking business. The transformation of film recording and playing to digital recording and playing from experts in this new field, they sure proved that life has changed for all of us, actors too.

Trying to reinvent myself from theatre industry work in New York to film industry work in Hollywood, I attended the following seminars:

- Digital storyboarding.

- Independent film-making on a micro-budget.

- Choosing a format, HD, DVD, Mini DVD and HDTV.

- Digital editing systems.

- and the "Creative Impact" of working in digital.

This last really got my attention. On the panel was producer/director/actor Tony Bill (whose restaurant in Venice I often visit, and whose career history I envy a lot, especially his pilot license qualifications.)

Academy Award winning co-producer of "The Sting", and director of his just completed World War I epic "Flyboys", he knows a great deal and is certainly worth listening to.

He said shooting on digital had changed his way of working with actors, and he no longer feels that slating a take with the call to "Action" was either necessary or desirable. He said that replacing the time-limited reel of film with an almost endless tape meant that multi cameras could shoot continuously, no more "takes", no more rehearsals, shoot the lot.

He then made the statement that unexposed film in a camera has always been a "gun" aimed at the actor, who has always felt threatened by it, making him feel self-conscious and not able to give his best. Now, he said, you can just shoot it all, editing and deleting as you go, and not even have to wait for dailies.

He then said that acting, throughout history, has gone through the following stages: THEATRE (legit) for thousands of years, then SILENT movies, then SOUND movies, then "METHOD" acting (presumably to achieve enhanced realism), and now ACTUAL REALISM, thanks to the magic of digital.

At the following Q & A, I just had to get up to the microphone. I asked him if, in his opinion, he thought that Humphrey Bogart or Ingrid Bergman, or Bette Davis, or Laurence Olivier would have benefited from the new technology.

He answered yes, that he truly believed they would, but that I was talking about old-fashioned actors, and old-fashioned technique (I hope I'm quoting him accurately).

I said that I viewed acting as a performance art, and that actors, far from feeling threatened by film inside a camera being pointed at them intimidatingly with a call to "action" when it's rolling, saw it as the curtain going up, that "action!" served as a kind of switch which turns them on.

But I did confess that I was somewhat conflicted in this view, and that my currently favorite television was "Curb Your Enthusiasm" which is shot in exactly the way he describes, and put together sans actors in the producers' offices.

Thinking more about this later, my conclusion is that with digital, everyone can be an actor, just catch them unawares. But they're dealing with "behavior", not "acting". Which is different. Very different.

And with image cutting and pasting and inserting and switching and enhancing and reversing and morphing and animating and re-manufacturing, we may just not need professional actors/sets/costume/lighting designers any more, just creative computer engineers. It will certainly keep costs down.

I'm sure this debate will continue.

Meanwhile, I, and perhaps you, will continue to watch more of those black and white films from the thirties, forties and fifties.

MY COUSIN VINNY
Now this film brings it all together, in a way that simplifies a pro se's life inside, and outside, a courtroom. It should be rented and viewed by all who aspire to appear in such a place as part of a lawsuit, and is the most helpful. It's a comedy, and the casting and performances are exquisite.

Few might think of a courtroom as a place for comedy, because no question it is a war zone. And what goes on inside is a blood sport, conducted by humorless attorneys and judges under the watchful eye of armed deputies. So it is important to be able to step back and view this environment for what it really is, a dark, sardonic, fictitious theatrical invention.

In this 1992 film, Joe Pesci plays a one time New York actor with a Brooklyn sense of humor who becomes an untried lawyer after having failed the bar exam five times. He has nothing legal going for him but an innate common sense, useful in the application of the common law, and the refreshing qualities of a pro se mind. And the reassuring outcome of victory over his opponents.

He finds himself in Alabama (the site and cause of the famous N.Y. Times Co. vs. Sullivan landmark defamation case), trying to defend family members, 2 boys, in a murder case.

This film will put you right inside a courthouse, highlighting its procedural rules and absurdities, placing those two strutting imposters in a light the pro se can readily recognize.

I'm not sure why, but watching this film, I began to reflect that there are actually two kinds of actors in our profession.

First the guardedly pompous who wallow in it, seeking and finding an identity through titles, awards, and important positions. They tend to not share the irony of the best kind of humor, go around with brown stains on their noses, and require a well stocked support system.

Second the regular guy, who comments wryly on the mores of society, derives almost no pleasure from obeying didactic calls to satisfy someone else's vision, and wishes to experience the mutability of life, finding a rare pleasure in things outside the profession. This kind of person has a well developed sense of the incongruities present in real existence.

No doubt my ex is in the first group, and I am in the second group. I was her interface with the world. Which, I think, made us a good team, now gone our separate ways thanks to the efforts of Judge Gold and his ex employee James Eliaser, Esq.

Which should never have happened, if for no other reason than that poor old Lynn no longer belongs in that fellowship of truly great actors, and the theatre-loving public is deprived of our good work projects together.

THE VERDICT

This film seems to say a lot about what goes on in courtrooms and cases around the country, and it doesn't make you feel good at all. But, it's a story of perseverence, of bias, of corruption, and of lawyer power. Paul Newman seems more of an impassioned pro se than a licensed lawyer. The ending is perfect, he doesn't win over the system, he can't prove his case in light of adverse technically correct rulings from the bench, but what he does do is he makes the jury understand that they have a duty to vote with their hearts, and not just on the evidence. Not a good film for the judiciary, nor rich law-firms, but if you have a sense of justice, you should see this.

THE WINSLOW BOY

I have a fondness for this Terrence Rattigan play and movie, because I played the boy in the play in London, and then his older brother in another West End production when I got older. It is actually an early study of Defamation based on a real case from nearly a century ago in England.

A young cadet, still in school, is expelled for stealing a five shilling postal order. The evidence is largely circumstantial, but Power in the shape of the school administration executes its decision, he's gone, and the kid has no recourse.

But then his father steps in, and in the face of ruinous cost to his family, fights, keeps losing, but just won't give up. Many say that the issue is paltry and not worth fighting for, but of course this is really a battle over the good name of a family. As Shakespeare said "...he that filches from me my good name....makes me poor indeed."

The concept of keeping one's family escutcheon unblemished may seem quaint today. Which is more of a sad commentary on the state of today's society.

Winslow is getting nowhere, until he engages the interest of a King's Counsel and member of the House of Lords. Who, at the risk of his own future, and the threat of bringing down the government, wins the point, and the boy, disinterested all along, is reinstated.

But the meaningful lesson for me is stated at the end.

According to the lordly barrister, the issue was not to see justice done, it was to see right done.

"Let Right Be Done". A phrase that I believe should be enshrined wherever the name of "Justice" is invoked.

January 18
I sneaked in to see your show "The Importance of Being Earnest" last night at the Ahmanson from the upper balcony.

Normally I would have come backstage to talk with you, but with Emily Thingummy, Esq., your alter ego who thinks nothing of pushing a bogus restraining order against me with automatic approval from L.A. "Family" Court, I didn't. I also was afraid that theatre officials would not let me in, as you made happen at the SAG Awards in 1999.

Bear in mind that as a director I don't approve of giving private notes to actors, (I believe that notes before the cast serves to unify the company with good feelings, no secrets, and mutual understanding towards each other). This is not intended for public consumption, but I am left with no alternative but to give them to you this way, through my Blog, which I know you read, and besides, it may help other actors, as in the weekly free Shakespeare classes we used to give. So here goes.

Before dwelling on your performance, I recognize that at the outset you are up against it in the following ways:
1. with that awful ad. introducing you in caricature as a decidedly Californian wrong take on what and who Lady Bracknell was View image,
2. with the fact that you are being treated as a star without peer, name writ extra large above the title with kid-glove treatment by the theatre (is your Susan Smith agent responsible for this? I told you not to go with her) in what is essentially an ensemble production,
3. you have the audience's and your own memories of what Edith Evans did with it (and you memorably mimicked her in our "Shakespeare for my Father" show) and
4. Your first entrance in a dress carefully designed to match the color of the set exactly, and thus ensuring that you are not pictorially the center of attention. Whoever made that decision, costume designer, director, and I'm sure not you, should be taken out and shot (note to intrusive lawyers, not meant literally, of course!).

And last, in the scene-stealing department, you have your old rival (for the character parts anyway), Miriam Margolyes who the night I saw it stole the show right from under everybody, and became the main reason to see it (and well done, Miriam, my old friend!).

Lady Bracknell above all else is a regal, majestic, imperious, formidable, force to be reckoned with. When she enters a room, she takes that room over, commands it, and no argument.

You didn't do that, and apart from reasons beyond your control, here's why. You hadn't found your character! Which is where I used to come in. To help you discover things with some private coaching.

Base your character on an animal, a bird, a friend, an acquaintance, family even. Your mother comes to mind when she stayed with us in Topanga. Any thing and any body is allowed, if it works, but not anyone else's view, especially that ad. rendition.

Then, use sense or emotion memories. How about when you had me evicted from our home, you have my pictures, use that, or when you were in court being questioned by me, use that.

I've often told you that you can be too "big" in your acting for film, and some stage work. But here you have the chance to big it up to the sky, if you can get the truth behind it.

So, take your mind back to our show and the hours we spent together working on it. Mind your shoes, and play the right music (Wagner?) at the half. Be inspired! As I've told you many many times, you can be the world's greatest stage actress, but also quite amateurishly awful, an observation also aimed I am sure, even, at Edmund Keane.

You have the mouthings and the muggings and the makeup. Now find the character and the weight behind all of that, and you'll be fine. Forget the subtleties, forget the nuances, Wilde's lines'll take care of that. And dump any influences that "Sir" and others might have had on you. And, most important, forget Edith Evans, and we will too!

Good luck for your opening night press performance. And steal it back from Miriam, you can do it!

Time's short.

And if giving my notes to you this way makes you mad, fine, USE IT!

January 27
Oh dear.

This is what critic Charles McNulty of the Los Angeles Times had to say about you this morning:

"What really prevents the first act from igniting, however, is the way the cast deals out Wilde's paradoxes in such a knowing fashion. Forget about character work -- before a punch line has even landed, the actors are congratulating themselves on their stand-up brilliancy.

Veteran Lynn Redgrave understandably falls victim to this as Lady Bracknell, the society brigadier posing as Gwendolen's "affectionate" and highly aphoristic mother. It's one of the toughest roles to pull off, so great are the precedents (Edith Evans, most notably, in the 1952 film) and so beloved are the character's tyrannical quips. (My favorite: "Come, dear, [Gwendolen rises] we have already missed five, if not six trains. To miss any more might expose us to comment on the platform."

Decked at first in champagne-colored taffeta and a feathered hat, Redgrave appears to be having a lip-smackingly good time. Yet her unrestrained, not to say slightly burlesque, approach turns Jack's insults to her character ("never met such a Gorgon"; "she is a monster, without being a myth") into acts of dramatic criticism."

Well, don't say I didn't tell you. Whatever happened to you? Since I "knew" you last, when was it? ...seven years ago? ... you seem to have lost your courage.

A smart director of Wilde would do well to cast the play perfectly, free up the actors, and stand editorially and fondly back while Wilde's words take over. To manipulate the actors and the play away from Wilde is an impertinance, and not even a titled director is automatically en-titled to do that (pun intended).

It is clear that if actors are intimidated by a SIR, Peter Hall did himself a disservice by accepting one. But perhaps he feels he gains immunity by it - an assumption long built into the ways of British society. (And imagine this pop-up - today, Wilde would most certainly have been offered a title instead of a prison sentence!)

Here is the review in full: Download file

Not only actors can become intimidated and (openly) uncritical of directors with a title (unless perhaps they own one themselves). One can safely assume that many American journalist/critics suffer from the same respectful paralysis.

As for Los Angeles theatre, that it remains but a poor stepchild in the family of the Hollywood performing arts, can be seen from this review in today's Hollywood Reporter: It is clear that their critic, Ed Kaufman, who writes a suspiciously excellent review of the play may have been afraid of this production. Download file He even got his pun reference wrong.

Actually, there is no real evidence that he saw it.

April 18
Opening night in New York (Brooklyn Academy of Music)
Extract from Curtain Up, Internet Theatre Magazine
by Les Gutman

The big names attached to this production may be Lynn Redgrave (who plays Lady Bracknell) and Sir Peter Hall (its director), but its shining star is Ms. Margolyes, the brilliant British character actress who portrays Miss Prism...What she does here is set Wilde's words on fire, and then stoke the flames with every motion her short but ample body makes.

No one could quite match this performance, and the night I attended it was Ms. Margolyes who received the most enthusiastic ovation at the curtain call...Ms. Redgrave's Lady Bracknell was a bit of a surprise. One of Wilde's unspoken puns in The Importance of Being Earnest of course surrounds the word "Earnest" and its proper name homonym. Neither of the two young men in the play who at times adopt the name Ernest are earnest, but Lady Bracknell is, and often hideously so. She is the linchpin of Wilde's satire -- the vehicle by which he skewers the behavior of the upper class, rendered especially piercing because Lady Bracknell is an aristocrat by marriage but not by birth. Sir Peter Hall, presumably feeling these observations are of less interest today, strips them from the play...Lady Bracknell isn't the monster she appears to be in other productions; whereas Jack (James Waterston) and Algernon (Robert Petkoff) are very aware of how clever they are spouting Wilde's witticisms (and in Petkoff's case, very much so), normally, Bracknell is not: the bite of her zingers is deep precisely because of her earnestness. Here, however, one senses she's actually enjoying herself. It's not an unreasonable choice, but it deprives Ms. Redgrave of some of her ammunition, and the resulting performance, while perfectly fine, is less than memorable.

There you have it. I can neither do nor say any more.

Harold Pinter's 2005 Nobel Prize Speech
I make no apology for including this speech, because despite the appearance of proselytizing, which meant that few of us wanted to read it being loyal citizens, it should be read by actors, regardless of personal politics, first because a great, still living, playwright wrote it, and second, because it will intrude first upon your brains, and then your emotions and guts.

A bonus in reading this too, a dip into Pinter's mind and how it works as a writer. Here he is, at the podium:

**********************************************************************

In 1958 I wrote the following:
'There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. A thing is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true and false.'

I believe that these assertions still make sense and do still apply to the exploration of reality through art. So as a writer I stand by them but as a citizen I cannot. As a citizen I must ask: What is true? What is false?

Truth in drama is forever elusive. You never quite find it but the search for it is compulsive. The search is clearly what drives the endeavour. The search is your task. More often than not you stumble upon the truth in the dark, colliding with it or just glimpsing an image or a shape which seems to correspond to the truth, often without realising that you have done so. But the real truth is that there never is any such thing as one truth to be found in dramatic art. There are many. These truths challenge each other, recoil from each other, reflect each other, ignore each other, tease each other, are blind to each other. Sometimes you feel you have the truth of a moment in your hand, then it slips through your fingers and is lost.

I have often been asked how my plays come about. I cannot say. Nor can I ever sum up my plays, except to say that this is what happened. That is what they said. That is what they did.

Most of the plays are engendered by a line, a word or an image. The given word is often shortly followed by the image. I shall give two examples of two lines which came right out of the blue into my head, followed by an image, followed by me.

The plays are The Homecoming and Old Times. The first line of The Homecoming is 'What have you done with the scissors?' The first line of Old Times is 'Dark.'

In each case I had no further information.

In the first case someone was obviously looking for a pair of scissors and was demanding their whereabouts of someone else he suspected had probably stolen them. But I somehow knew that the person addressed didn't give a damn about the scissors or about the questioner either, for that matter.

'Dark' I took to be a description of someone's hair, the hair of a woman, and was the answer to a question. In each case I found myself compelled to pursue the matter. This happened visually, a very slow fade, through shadow into light.

I always start a play by calling the characters A, B and C.

In the play that became The Homecoming I saw a man enter a stark room and ask his question of a younger man sitting on an ugly sofa reading a racing paper. I somehow suspected that A was a father and that B was his son, but I had no proof. This was however confirmed a short time later when B (later to become Lenny) says to A (later to become Max), 'Dad, do you mind if I change the subject? I want to ask you something. The dinner we had before, what was the name of it? What do you call it? Why don't you buy a dog? You're a dog cook. Honest. You think you're cooking for a lot of dogs.' So since B calls A 'Dad' it seemed to me reasonable to assume that they were father and son. A was also clearly the cook and his cooking did not seem to be held in high regard. Did this mean that there was no mother? I didn't know. But, as I told myself at the time, our beginnings never know our ends.

'Dark.' A large window. Evening sky. A man, A (later to become Deeley), and a woman, B (later to become Kate), sitting with drinks. 'Fat or thin?' the man asks. Who are they talking about? But I then see, standing at the window, a woman, C (later to become Anna), in another condition of light, her back to them, her hair dark.

It's a strange moment, the moment of creating characters who up to that moment have had no existence. What follows is fitful, uncertain, even hallucinatory, although sometimes it can be an unstoppable avalanche. The author's position is an odd one. In a sense he is not welcomed by the characters. The characters resist him, they are not easy to live with, they are impossible to define. You certainly can't dictate to them. To a certain extent you play a never-ending game with them, cat and mouse, blind man's buff, hide and seek. But finally you find that you have people of flesh and blood on your hands, people with will and an individual sensibility of their own, made out of component parts you are unable to change, manipulate or distort.

So language in art remains a highly ambiguous transaction, a quicksand, a trampoline, a frozen pool which might give way under you, the author, at any time.

But as I have said, the search for the truth can never stop. It cannot be adjourned, it cannot be postponed. It has to be faced, right there, on the spot.

Political theatre presents an entirely different set of problems. Sermonising has to be avoided at all cost. Objectivity is essential. The characters must be allowed to breathe their own air. The author cannot confine and constrict them to satisfy his own taste or disposition or prejudice. He must be prepared to approach them from a variety of angles, from a full and uninhibited range of perspectives, take them by surprise, perhaps, occasionally, but nevertheless give them the freedom to go which way they will. This does not always work. And political satire, of course, adheres to none of these precepts, in fact does precisely the opposite, which is its proper function.

In my play The Birthday Party I think I allow a whole range of options to operate in a dense forest of possibility before finally focussing on an act of subjugation.

Mountain Language pretends to no such range of operation. It remains brutal, short and ugly. But the soldiers in the play do get some fun out of it. One sometimes forgets that torturers become easily bored. They need a bit of a laugh to keep their spirits up. This has been confirmed of course by the events at Abu Ghraib in Baghdad. Mountain Language lasts only 20 minutes, but it could go on for hour after hour, on and on and on, the same pattern repeated over and over again, on and on, hour after hour.

Ashes to Ashes, on the other hand, seems to me to be taking place under water. A drowning woman, her hand reaching up through the waves, dropping down out of sight, reaching for others, but finding nobody there, either above or under the water, finding only shadows, reflections, floating; the woman a lost figure in a drowning landscape, a woman unable to escape the doom that seemed to belong only to others.

But as they died, she must die too.

Political language, as used by politicians, does not venture into any of this territory since the majority of politicians, on the evidence available to us, are interested not in truth but in power and in the maintenance of that power. To maintain that power it is essential that people remain in ignorance, that they live in ignorance of the truth, even the truth of their own lives. What surrounds us therefore is a vast tapestry of lies, upon which we feed.

As every single person here knows, the justification for the invasion of Iraq was that Saddam Hussein possessed a highly dangerous body of weapons of mass destruction, some of which could be fired in 45 minutes, bringing about appalling devastation. We were assured that was true. It was not true. We were told that Iraq had a relationship with Al Quaeda and shared responsibility for the atrocity in New York of September 11th 2001. We were assured that this was true. It was not true. We were told that Iraq threatened the security of the world. We were assured it was true. It was not true.

The truth is something entirely different. The truth is to do with how the United States understands its role in the world and how it chooses to embody it.

But before I come back to the present I would like to look at the recent past, by which I mean United States foreign policy since the end of the Second World War. I believe it is obligatory upon us to subject this period to at least some kind of even limited scrutiny, which is all that time will allow here.

Everyone knows what happened in the Soviet Union and throughout Eastern Europe during the post-war period: the systematic brutality, the widespread atrocities, the ruthless suppression of independent thought. All this has been fully documented and verified.

But my contention here is that the US crimes in the same period have only been superficially recorded, let alone documented, let alone acknowledged, let alone recognised as crimes at all. I believe this must be addressed and that the truth has considerable bearing on where the world stands now. Although constrained, to a certain extent, by the existence of the Soviet Union, the United States' actions throughout the world made it clear that it had concluded it had carte blanche to do what it liked.

Direct invasion of a sovereign state has never in fact been America's favoured method. In the main, it has preferred what it has described as 'low intensity conflict'. Low intensity conflict means that thousands of people die but slower than if you dropped a bomb on them in one fell swoop. It means that you infect the heart of the country, that you establish a malignant growth and watch the gangrene bloom. When the populace has been subdued - or beaten to death - the same thing - and your own friends, the military and the great corporations, sit comfortably in power, you go before the camera and say that democracy has prevailed. This was a commonplace in US foreign policy in the years to which I refer.

The tragedy of Nicaragua was a highly significant case. I choose to offer it here as a potent example of America's view of its role in the world, both then and now.

I was present at a meeting at the US embassy in London in the late 1980s.

The United States Congress was about to decide whether to give more money to the Contras in their campaign against the state of Nicaragua. I was a member of a delegation speaking on behalf of Nicaragua but the most important member of this delegation was a Father John Metcalf. The leader of the US body was Raymond Seitz (then number two to the ambassador, later ambassador himself). Father Metcalf said: 'Sir, I am in charge of a parish in the north of Nicaragua. My parishioners built a school, a health centre, a cultural centre. We have lived in peace. A few months ago a Contra force attacked the parish. They destroyed everything: the school, the health centre, the cultural centre. They raped nurses and teachers, slaughtered doctors, in the most brutal manner. They behaved like savages. Please demand that the US government withdraw its support from this shocking terrorist activity.'

Raymond Seitz had a very good reputation as a rational, responsible and highly sophisticated man. He was greatly respected in diplomatic circles. He listened, paused and then spoke with some gravity. 'Father,' he said, 'let me tell you something. In war, innocent people always suffer.' There was a frozen silence. We stared at him. He did not flinch.

Innocent people, indeed, always suffer.

Finally somebody said: 'But in this case "innocent people" were the victims of a gruesome atrocity subsidised by your government, one among many. If Congress allows the Contras more money further atrocities of this kind will take place. Is this not the case? Is your government not therefore guilty of supporting acts of murder and destruction upon the citizens of a sovereign state?'

Seitz was imperturbable. 'I don't agree that the facts as presented support your assertions,' he said.

As we were leaving the Embassy a US aide told me that he enjoyed my plays. I did not reply.

I should remind you that at the time President Reagan made the following statement: 'The Contras are the moral equivalent of our Founding Fathers.'

The United States supported the brutal Somoza dictatorship in Nicaragua for over 40 years. The Nicaraguan people, led by the Sandinistas, overthrew this regime in 1979, a breathtaking popular revolution.

The Sandinistas weren't perfect. They possessed their fair share of arrogance and their political philosophy contained a number of contradictory elements. But they were intelligent, rational and civilised. They set out to establish a stable, decent, pluralistic society. The death penalty was abolished. Hundreds of thousands of poverty-stricken peasants were brought back from the dead. Over 100,000 families were given title to land. Two thousand schools were built. A quite remarkable literacy campaign reduced illiteracy in the country to less than one seventh. Free education was established and a free health service. Infant mortality was reduced by a third. Polio was eradicated.

The United States denounced these achievements as Marxist/Leninist subversion. In the view of the US government, a dangerous example was being set. If Nicaragua was allowed to establish basic norms of social and economic justice, if it was allowed to raise the standards of health care and education and achieve social unity and national self respect, neighbouring countries would ask the same questions and do the same things. There was of course at the time fierce resistance to the status quo in El Salvador.

I spoke earlier about 'a tapestry of lies' which surrounds us. President Reagan commonly described Nicaragua as a 'totalitarian dungeon'. This was taken generally by the media, and certainly by the British government, as accurate and fair comment. But there was in fact no record of death squads under the Sandinista government. There was no record of torture. There was no record of systematic or official military brutality. No priests were ever murdered in Nicaragua. There were in fact three priests in the government, two Jesuits and a Maryknoll missionary. The totalitarian dungeons were actually next door, in El Salvador and Guatemala. The United States had brought down the democratically elected government of Guatemala in 1954 and it is estimated that over 200,000 people had been victims of successive military dictatorships.

Six of the most distinguished Jesuits in the world were viciously murdered at the Central American University in San Salvador in 1989 by a battalion of the Alcatl regiment trained at Fort Benning, Georgia, USA. That extremely brave man Archbishop Romero was assassinated while saying mass. It is estimated that 75,000 people died. Why were they killed? They were killed because they believed a better life was possible and should be achieved. That belief immediately qualified them as communists. They died because they dared to question the status quo, the endless plateau of poverty, disease, degradation and oppression, which had been their birthright.

The United States finally brought down the Sandinista government. It took some years and considerable resistance but relentless economic persecution and 30,000 dead finally undermined the spirit of the Nicaraguan people. They were exhausted and poverty stricken once again. The casinos moved back into the country. Free health and free education were over. Big business returned with a vengeance. 'Democracy' had prevailed.

But this 'policy' was by no means restricted to Central America. It was conducted throughout the world. It was never-ending. And it is as if it never happened.

The United States supported and in many cases engendered every right wing military dictatorship in the world after the end of the Second World War. I refer to Indonesia, Greece, Uruguay, Brazil, Paraguay, Haiti, Turkey, the Philippines, Guatemala, El Salvador, and, of course, Chile. The horror the United States inflicted upon Chile in 1973 can never be purged and can never be forgiven.

Hundreds of thousands of deaths took place throughout these countries. Did they take place? And are they in all cases attributable to US foreign policy? The answer is yes they did take place and they are attributable to American foreign policy. But you wouldn't know it.

It never happened. Nothing ever happened. Even while it was happening it wasn't happening. It didn't matter. It was of no interest. The crimes of the United States have been systematic, constant, vicious, remorseless, but very few people have actually talked about them. You have to hand it to America. It has exercised a quite clinical manipulation of power worldwide while masquerading as a force for universal good. It's a brilliant, even witty, highly successful act of hypnosis.

I put to you that the United States is without doubt the greatest show on the road. Brutal, indifferent, scornful and ruthless it may be but it is also very clever. As a salesman it is out on its own and its most saleable commodity is self love. It's a winner. Listen to all American presidents on television say the words, 'the American people', as in the sentence, 'I say to the American people it is time to pray and to defend the rights of the American people and I ask the American people to trust their president in the action he is about to take on behalf of the American people.'

It's a scintillating stratagem. Language is actually employed to keep thought at bay. The words 'the American people' provide a truly voluptuous cushion of reassurance. You don't need to think. Just lie back on the cushion. The cushion may be suffocating your intelligence and your critical faculties but it's very comfortable. This does not apply of course to the 40 million people living below the poverty line and the 2 million men and women imprisoned in the vast gulag of prisons, which extends across the US.

The United States no longer bothers about low intensity conflict. It no longer sees any point in being reticent or even devious. It puts its cards on the table without fear or favour. It quite simply doesn't give a damn about the United Nations, international law or critical dissent, which it regards as impotent and irrelevant. It also has its own bleating little lamb tagging behind it on a lead, the pathetic and supine Great Britain.

What has happened to our moral sensibility? Did we ever have any? What do these words mean? Do they refer to a term very rarely employed these days - conscience? A conscience to do not only with our own acts but to do with our shared responsibility in the acts of others? Is all this dead? Look at Guantanamo Bay. Hundreds of people detained without charge for over three years, with no legal representation or due process, technically detained forever. This totally illegitimate structure is maintained in defiance of the Geneva Convention. It is not only tolerated but hardly thought about by what's called the 'international community'. This criminal outrage is being committed by a country, which declares itself to be 'the leader of the free world'. Do we think about the inhabitants of Guantanamo Bay? What does the media say about them? They pop up occasionally - a small item on page six. They have been consigned to a no man's land from which indeed they may never return. At present many are on hunger strike, being force-fed, including British residents. No niceties in these force-feeding procedures. No sedative or anaesthetic. Just a tube stuck up your nose and into your throat. You vomit blood. This is torture. What has the British Foreign Secretary said about this? Nothing. What has the British Prime Minister said about this? Nothing. Why not? Because the United States has said: to criticise our conduct in Guantanamo Bay constitutes an unfriendly act. You're either with us or against us. So Blair shuts up.

The invasion of Iraq was a bandit act, an act of blatant state terrorism, demonstrating absolute contempt for the concept of international law. The invasion was an arbitrary military action inspired by a series of lies upon lies and gross manipulation of the media and therefore of the public; an act intended to consolidate American military and economic control of the Middle East masquerading - as a last resort - all other justifications having failed to justify themselves - as liberation. A formidable assertion of military force responsible for the death and mutilation of thousands and thousands of innocent people.

We have brought torture, cluster bombs, depleted uranium, innumerable acts of random murder, misery, degradation and death to the Iraqi people and call it 'bringing freedom and democracy to the Middle East'.

How many people do you have to kill before you qualify to be described as a mass murderer and a war criminal? One hundred thousand? More than enough, I would have thought. Therefore it is just that Bush and Blair be arraigned before the International Criminal Court of Justice. But Bush has been clever. He has not ratified the International Criminal Court of Justice. Therefore if any American soldier or for that matter politician finds himself in the dock Bush has warned that he will send in the marines. But Tony Blair has ratified the Court and is therefore available for prosecution. We can let the Court have his address if they're interested. It is Number 10, Downing Street, London.

Death in this context is irrelevant. Both Bush and Blair place death well away on the back burner. At least 100,000 Iraqis were killed by American bombs and missiles before the Iraq insurgency began. These people are of no moment. Their deaths don't exist. They are blank. They are not even recorded as being dead. 'We don't do body counts,' said the American general Tommy Franks.

Early in the invasion there was a photograph published on the front page of British newspapers of Tony Blair kissing the cheek of a little Iraqi boy. 'A grateful child,' said the caption. A few days later there was a story and photograph, on an inside page, of another four-year-old boy with no arms. His family had been blown up by a missile. He was the only survivor. 'When do I get my arms back?' he asked. The story was dropped. Well, Tony Blair wasn't holding him in his arms, nor the body of any other mutilated child, nor the body of any bloody corpse. Blood is dirty. It dirties your shirt and tie when you're making a sincere speech on television.

The 2,000 American dead are an embarrassment. They are transported to their graves in the dark. Funerals are unobtrusive, out of harm's way. The mutilated rot in their beds, some for the rest of their lives. So the dead and the mutilated both rot, in different kinds of graves.

Here is an extract from a poem by Pablo Neruda, 'I'm Explaining a Few Things':

And one morning all that was burning,
one morning the bonfires
leapt out of the earth
devouring human beings
and from then on fire,
gunpowder from then on,
and from then on blood.
Bandits with planes and Moors,
bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,
bandits with black friars spattering blessings
came through the sky to kill children
and the blood of children ran through the streets
without fuss, like children's blood.
Jackals that the jackals would despise
stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out,
vipers that the vipers would abominate.
Face to face with you I have seen the blood
of Spain tower like a tide
to drown you in one wave
of pride and knives.
Treacherous
generals:
see my dead house,
look at broken Spain:
from every house burning metal flows
instead of flowers
from every socket of Spain
Spain emerges
and from every dead child a rifle with eyes
and from every crime bullets are born
which will one day find
the bull's eye of your hearts.
And you will ask: why doesn't his poetry
speak of dreams and leaves
and the great volcanoes of his native land.
Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see
the blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood
in the streets!*

Let me make it quite clear that in quoting from Neruda's poem I am in no way comparing Republican Spain to Saddam Hussein's Iraq. I quote Neruda because nowhere in contemporary poetry have I read such a powerful visceral description of the bombing of civilians.

I have said earlier that the United States is now totally frank about putting its cards on the table. That is the case. Its official declared policy is now defined as 'full spectrum dominance'. That is not my term, it is theirs. 'Full spectrum dominance' means control of land, sea, air and space and all attendant resources.

The United States now occupies 702 military installations throughout the world in 132 countries, with the honourable exception of Sweden, of course. We don't quite know how they got there but they are there all right.

The United States possesses 8,000 active and operational nuclear warheads. Two thousand are on hair trigger alert, ready to be launched with 15 minutes warning. It is developing new systems of nuclear force, known as bunker busters. The British, ever cooperative, are intending to replace their own nuclear missile, Trident. Who, I wonder, are they aiming at? Osama bin Laden? You? Me? Joe Dokes? China? Paris? Who knows? What we do know is that this infantile insanity - the possession and threatened use of nuclear weapons - is at the heart of present American political philosophy. We must remind ourselves that the United States is on a permanent military footing and shows no sign of relaxing it.

Many thousands, if not millions, of people in the United States itself are demonstrably sickened, shamed and angered by their government's actions, but as things stand they are not a coherent political force - yet. But the anxiety, uncertainty and fear which we can see growing daily in the United States is unlikely to diminish.

I know that President Bush has many extremely competent speech writers but I would like to volunteer for the job myself. I propose the following short address which he can make on television to the nation. I see him grave, hair carefully combed, serious, winning, sincere, often beguiling, sometimes employing a wry smile, curiously attractive, a man's man.

'God is good. God is great. God is good. My God is good. Bin Laden's God is bad. His is a bad God. Saddam's God was bad, except he didn't have one. He was a barbarian. We are not barbarians. We don't chop people's heads off. We believe in freedom. So does God. I am not a barbarian. I am the democratically elected leader of a freedom-loving democracy. We are a compassionate society. We give compassionate electrocution and compassionate lethal injection. We are a great nation. I am not a dictator. He is. I am not a barbarian. He is. And he is. They all are. I possess moral authority. You see this fist? This is my moral authority. And don't you forget it.'

A writer's life is a highly vulnerable, almost naked activity. We don't have to weep about that. The writer makes his choice and is stuck with it. But it is true to say that you are open to all the winds, some of them icy indeed. You are out on your own, out on a limb. You find no shelter, no protection - unless you lie - in which case of course you have constructed your own protection and, it could be argued, become a politician.

I have referred to death quite a few times this evening. I shall now quote a poem of my own called 'Death'.

Where was the dead body found?
Who found the dead body?
Was the dead body dead when found?
How was the dead body found?
Who was the dead body?
Who was the father or daughter or brother
Or uncle or sister or mother or son
Of the dead and abandoned body?
Was the body dead when abandoned?
Was the body abandoned?
By whom had it been abandoned?
Was the dead body naked or dressed for a journey?
What made you declare the dead body dead?
Did you declare the dead body dead?
How well did you know the dead body?
How did you know the dead body was dead?
Did you wash the dead body
Did you close both its eyes
Did you bury the body
Did you leave it abandoned
Did you kiss the dead body

When we look into a mirror we think the image that confronts us is accurate. But move a millimetre and the image changes. We are actually looking at a never-ending range of reflections. But sometimes a writer has to smash the mirror - for it is on the other side of that mirror that the truth stares at us.

I believe that despite the enormous odds which exist, unflinching, unswerving, fierce intellectual determination, as citizens, to define the real truth of our lives and our societies is a crucial obligation which devolves upon us all. It is in fact mandatory.

If such a determination is not embodied in our political vision we have no hope of restoring what is so nearly lost to us - the dignity of man.

© THE NOBEL FOUNDATION 2005
* Extract from "I'm Explaining a Few Things" translated by Nathaniel Tarn, from Pablo Neruda: Selected Poems, published by Jonathan Cape, London 1970. Used by permission of The Random House Group Limited.

The first acting tip I ever got was "get the thought right, and it will come out right". This was from a director in my first job. Which actually wasn't half bad for a raw kid of eleven on BBC radio.

Years later, I had the good fortune to be working with the legendary actor Luther Adler, in a production of A VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE. He modestly said that on Wednesdays between the matinee and the evening performance he would teach us some of his acting tricks. The first occasion we were busy removing our make-up, when we heard a roar from the stage of "WHERE ARE YOU?". And so we all rushed headlong to the stage to hear his words.

It quickly became apparent that a Method Actor he was not. He spoke of his years of practicing stage-craft, and how to apply it. A couple of things has always stuck in my memory.

He said that the actor was not like others, whom he called "Private People". "As you stand in the wings waiting to make your entrance, just remember that a private person has too great a leap between being off-stage and on, and so it is important to live your own lives in a very big way."

He spoke of learning lines, something with which I always had great difficulty. To me, being used to reading off a radio script, I pictorialized everything as print on a page, a kind of photographic memory, with an ASA of about 6.

He said, when you get a script and know you are hired, first thing you do is re-type all of your words, leaving out all your cues and all punctuation. Then learn the lot like meaningless symbols on a computer tape, and rattle it off until there are no mistakes. Only then will your brain be entirely free of line readings, the dictates of the author, and the demands of the director. You will be a CREATOR, and not simply an INTERPRETER, or second-guesser, and can hold your head up high.

The Empty Suitcase test

Harold Clurman was a friend and neighbor of mine at "The Osborne" (one of Manhattan's most venerable of historic buildings that stands across from Carnegie Hall) and he wrote a book he named "Lies Like Truth", which described its contents exactly.

But what are lies and what are truths?

If I see a play or a movie, and I see an actor picking up a suitcase which is obviously empty when it is established that it is packed, then I know that I should not trust anything else I see take place. I think it was a production of a Neil Simon play I saw, perhaps "Chapter Two".

Of course, the truth can be a matter of opinion. But a suitcase is a good place to start.

The Fourth Wall

I get upset about this.

It's about the wall that separates the audience from the actors, whether in a theatre or in a movie house, or at home watching TV.

I believe it is sacred, a sacred trust that should be upheld by the actor, always, no exceptions.

I'm a member of the Magic Castle in Hollywood, and when I see the magic that is performed there, whether close-up, or in their main hall, I am always enthralled, and I NEVER want to see how it is done (unless, of course, I have an interest in becoming a magician, which I don't.)

In the same vein, actors are trying to bring an audience into their magic world of imagination, and the audience does not want see the process that brings this about, no matter what they say.

It was W. Somerset Maugham who said "It is dangerous to let the public behind the scenes. They are easily disillusioned and then they are angry with you, for it was the illusion they loved."

Oh sure, there are exceptions, done purely for effect, like a painting where the image spills out beyond the frame. A.R. Gurney, the writer of Love Letters, wrote a wonderful play which explored the territory of the Fourth Wall with that same title. The actors playing in a drawing room would turn to the audience and speak to them.

I was in a play once, where at the end of the final act the villain was supposed to produce a gun and fire it and he, simply, forgot to get it off the prop table before his entrance. On stage, he put his hand menacingly in his pocket and found it was empty. So what did he do? He turned to the audience, and blurted helplessly, as himself now, "I've forgot my fucking gun."

Of course the audience roared, and I'm quite sure went home with only that memory of the play. The lesson here is that he stepped out of character and became himself, so the audience was allowed to understand and share what had happened, and it became part of the entertainment.

But I cannot forgive the actors who consent to being interviewed IN COSTUME on camera, acceding to the demands of the movie marketing people. Have they no self respect?

Today's audiences are being brought closer and closer to the realization that acting is all malarkey anyway, and hey, anybody could do it if you aren't shy and enjoy showing off.

Witness the reality shows that are so popular today. It won't be long before the public refuses to enter the fantasy world of the actor, it will just be impossible for them to suspend their disbelief.

Which brings me to another aspect of audience sensibilities.

Does the audience have boundaries?

Did you know that in Shakespeare's day, a stagehand or actor would cross the stage with a sign saying something like "Forest of Arden". The audience had no problem with this, and happily saw the forest, because they were asked to, and joined in the pretense. Even if a costume was not quite right, it would be forgiven.

But a ham actor, asking for similar forgiveness for his lack of talent, will be jeered off the stage. Actually he will probably not even know he is that bad. There's a story of the actor doing Hamlet very poorly, and of the audience starting to throw vegetables at him, and he goes down to the footlights, and shouts back "I didn't write this garbage!!"

So, always stay in character, and refuse to participate in any activity which breaches that trust. Do it if only for your own personal integrity.

And by all means do interviews in your street clothes.

Do Something Else

No, I don't mean with your career choice. I mean that when playing a scene, especially an emotional scene, its very intensity can turn the players and the audience off if you do it directly and that's all you're doing.

Giving a class one time, and auditing a scene, I was presented with a situational plot where a husband's outburst at his wife, leading to a divorce, was taking place, and it just wasn't working because it was "over the top". I tried to have the actor playing the husband do the dishes at the sink while his outburst took place, and still he wanted to yell and it didn't work.

He needed to concentrate on something else, not on his speech to his wife. Spotting somebody's bicycle in a corner, I had him ride it as slowly as he could around the little stage while speaking, which took all of his attention. And the low key result was the most moving scene of the evening, and my student was delighted.

The Unity of Opposites

This is a concept that actors understand. When something's not working, do the exact opposite and you will often find it works with the same force and the effect that you intended in the first place.

And it's centered in common sense, when you think about it.

An example is playing a drunk. One gets awfully bored seeing the "drunk" flopping about the set, trying to make us believe how drunk he is. But check real life. Is a drunk trying to do that? Or is he trying to be sober? Of course he is. So using one's training to achieve that state of drunkenness (sense memory, emotion memory?), then try hard to play sober.

Another example is playing a death scene. One cannot forget Olivier as Richard III meeting his end. Is he playing death? No, he is playing life, thrashing around on the ground, trying up until his last second on earth to kill his enemies with his sword.

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

Actors should first learn this piece with the familiarity most of us have for the Lord's Prayer or our National Anthem, that is, without thinking of the meaning. And learn it with and without punctuation. Print it out. And never forget it, and often exercise alone with it.

In our classes, we would have the students then perform the piece using other situations quite remote from Shakespeare's intention for Hamlet.

I remember one student, dressed in army uniform, imagining he was in the midst of a battlefield in France during the first world war, surveying the ruins. Another imagined herself on the telephone explaining to her mother how it felt after her abortion. Another became a lounge singer, costumed in a tux, singing and dancing to the whole piece while holding a tape player blaring thirty's piano music.

Shakespeare's Version (iambic pentameter). Be Hamlet, and scan correctly:

To be, or not to be,--that is the question:--
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?--To die,--to sleep,--
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,--'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die,--to sleep;--
To sleep! perchance to dream:--ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,--
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns,--puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

One can practice and practice and wind up sounding like Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree in this 1906 recording and history of the play from the British Library.

Your Version.
To access your feelings, ignore the requirements of the verse structure, let the punctuation lay wherever it may, and see what happens:

To be or not to be that is the question whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them to die to sleep no more and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd to die to sleep to sleep perchance to dream aye there's the rub for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause there's the respect that makes calamity of such long life for who would bear the whips and scorns of time the oppressor's wrong the proud man's contumely the pang's of depised love the law's delay the insolence of office and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin who would fardels bear to grunt and sweat under a weary life but that the dread of something after death the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of thus conscience does make cowards of us all and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought and enterprises of great pitch and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.

[An aside to myself: I'm in a courtroom. Play with this.

"The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?]

Advice to the Actors

Speaking of Shakespeare, we're all familiar with Hamlet's advice to the traveling players. But look at what Karol Wojtyla (aka Pope John Paul II) had to say about the actor's craft in his poem (translated by and copyright to Jerzy Peterkiewicz). Any serious actor will identify with this problem.

Actor

So many grew round me, through me,
from my self, as it were.
I became a channel, unleashing a force
called man.
Did not the others crowding in, distort
the man that I am?
Being each of them, always imperfect,
myself to myself too near,
he who survives in me, can he ever
look at himself without fear?

So what's stopping you?

So much in acting, as in life, is conceptual. If you get the right concept going, it can boost you into a new orbit.

We usually think about acting training as a means to "learn something new". But try thinking the opposite. Did you know that all of us, when we are born, can act? We can sing too. How's that again? Well it's obvious, there's no one around to tell us that we can't.

The trick, then, is to discover what is preventing this natural talent coming to the fore.

Lee Strasberg knew this when he built a series of exercises designed to find relaxation, to find where the blockages are, and to enable feelings and emotion to get out.

If you get there, and we all want that, then acting will be as easy as, well, falling off a bicycle.

Child Actors

Barbara Walters had just finished with "Not For Women Only", a daily show on NBC, and Lynn was asked to take over, along with co-host Dr. Frank Field. The time came when Frank took a week off, and I was asked to fill in. What an opportunity! We decided to do a whole week on Shakespeare's "Ages Of Man", slanted towards the acting profession.

One of the shows was devoted to an exploration of the child actor, familiar territory to me, for I had been one myself.

We invited Lee Strasberg as our guest (I had been his student), surrounded ourselves with the foremost child actors of the day, dressed them in schoolboy clothes along with their satchels (Benjy looked very sweet then), and Lee talked on the subject at great length.

The one statement he made that resonated for me was that a child actor has the misfortune to arrive at adulthood at the point of his success, and tends to stop his development right there. (For "he" read also "her"). Adulthood here means, after all, that he is made to feel that a great responsibility rests upon his shoulders, that adults are depending on him, that people take advantage of him, that he earns lots of money, that his talent is working well, and that some people annoy him, especially his parents or guardians. Here, he thinks, I will stop, there is nothing else.

He pointed out that a similar thing happens to soldiers, we were in the midst of the Viet Nam war then. The soldier is ready to die, and if he doesn't, he is unprepared for a future.

(And after all these years, I am prepared to admit another. Once you enter into a lawsuit, either as protagonist or defendant, you will find your life will stop right there, until a satisfactory form of "closure" takes place. People will say get on with your life, and if you are true to yourself and aware of the realities, and are not a sociopath, you will be unable to do so.)

The answer, Strasberg was afraid to admit, was probably psychoanalysis.

AGENTS & MANAGERS as LIFE PARTNERS

When I first married Lynn Redgrave, I had no intention of becoming her agent or manager. Actually, a person cannot be an agent unless franchised by the union and getting a license from the state. But, a manager is a different kettle of fish.

I noticed that her agent just wasn't doing his job. In those days it was London Management, and Lynn had just finished the film SMASHING TIME which included her singing on a soundtrack, and there was a record deal to be made. In England, they didn't seem to have heard of such a thing, and so I brought in an entertainment lawyer in New York, and he made a deal, a very complicated legal document. And so I found myself dickering with the management of my wife, and learning some ropes.

What helped that along was the fact that I'd decided to cease trying to make money as a photographer, and my last acting job was playing "Fifth Cadet" in a BBC film of Cyrano De Bergerac. In black and white, it aired once, and the story goes a BBC technician pressed the wrong button, and erased the one and only tape! My acting career was for the birds.

It was sometime later, 1972 to be exact, that found Lynn shooting a movie in a very economically depressed Hollywood, called Every Little Crook and Nanny, (she was the Nanny, and Victor Mature was making one of his farewell appearances as the Crook.)

Lynn's agent then was the very respected Ben Benjamin at what is now ICM, who represented the biggest stars around at that time, such as Burt Lancaster.

At the end of filming, and preparing to return to London, I received a call from Woody Allen's producer, who lived right behind our hotel. He said he was so disappointed that Lynn was not interested in appearing in Woody's new film "Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid To Ask". I said what on earth are you talking about? He told me that he had a letter from Ben Benjamin where he had turned it down on behalf of Lynn.

I immediately walked over to his place, and looked at the letter, and indeed, that's what it did say.

I have a policy about people in situations like this. Whenever I see evidence of bad faith, I do not call them to ask questions, because I hate to listen to b/s. Instead I go after the result I want, so I signed a contract there and then for Lynn, because it started shooting in just a few days, and we'd have to cancel our airplane tickets home.

And a few days later I got a letter from Ben. To apologize? No. It was to ask if we'd sign for another 3 years with the agency, as the contract was nearly up. And it was then and there that we figured we'd go forward without one.

And so I switched to directing Lynn in her own work, acting with Lynn, coaching Lynn, doctoring Lynn's writing, and to managing her and no one else. I tried to bring out the best in her and in what I knew she was capable of.

As her manager, it is worth noting here that spouses can do wonders for a star or a celebrity of any kind. They have the ability to act in the shoes of the spouse, because theirs is not an "arm's length" relationship. That puts him or her a cut above an outsider. The thing is, you have to know what you are doing. Which means learn, learn, learn, in many cases, as you go.

The downside is, as I found out, you can get dumped for any reason whatsoever, fired not just as the manager, but also as the spouse, and you may become despised by your friends, your family, and your children in addition to the fans, the public and the media, in other words all of your loved ones. And you will be left with these words that will go round and round in your head and come to haunt you.

Download file

And to add salt to the wound, you can almost hear the breath being let out from the hordes of handlers-to-be, waiting in the wings to take over.

And so, what I like to call our "mom and pop" business came to a sudden end. But 32 years isn't bad.

And to those celebrities who take a leap into a marriage with a tried and true manager with a history, well, hi there, Liza, tends to not last too long, doesn't it.

Hint hint. An actress looking for real help in her career would do well to look at the ranks of established producers and directors with reputations at least equal to their own. Might even be a sexual turn-on for them.

This doesn't seem to work the other way around though, that is, a male actor, this being the real world, won't get that kind of opportunity.

On IMDb, you can comment on films that strike you with musings, and encourage you to set them down. One such, for me, comments on the actor's life, and how foreign it is to others.

ILLUMINATA

I had this to say:

"Just saw this on TV. As a lifelong professional actor, and therefore of "the other world" (the other other world is everybody else, the "private people"), I want to say how it seemed to me to be made for actors only. Full of wondrous insights, dealing with the shallowness of actors, and their ever present self-concern that maybe where real life is concerned, they just don't "get it", but want to. (Hence our "method" approach to the craft.)

For me it has everything that I've never seen before in films that purport to be about the theatre, but in actuality pander to the ignorance of Private People about things of the theatre, and lie. These guys really don't care about that, but would rather stick to the truth. Yes, it's a huge "in" joke. Like the no-no of breaking up on stage, and destroying the fourth wall, not supposed to do that, it upsets the audience.

This exploration of that unreal world will always stand for me to be definitive. If you're one of the outsiders, don't bother, you won't understand. If this sounds elitist, it's not meant to be. Put it down to an actor's insecurity. But enjoy it for its beauty if you wish, don't look for more."

Theatre that made me think

The Three Sisters

Back in 1964, I was fortunate enough to be able to go to the dress rehearsal of this Actors Studio produced and Lee Strasberg directed play at the Morosco. I was especially curious, because I had recently begun studying with Lee at his private classes which he gave at his Carnegie Hall studio. Using mostly "his" actors, I wanted to see how they performed.

I found that they performed very well within their characters, totally believable, and less well when relating to each other in a group. And the end I found very moving.

A few days later, I was now even more curious to go over to the City Center to see what the visiting Moscow Art Theatre would be doing with this same play (and curiously, I don't find that production recorded in the IDB website.)

It was in Russian, of course, but earphones and familiarity with the dialog helped a lot. There I found the group playing perfection itself, but the ending very stilted, and actually it seemed to have been transformed into a commercial for Communist ritual.

So, my conclusion was that the two efforts were actually mirror images of each other, that is to say, they only matched in their opposition.