The Actor and the Space (eBook)

Declan Donnellan (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2024 | 1. Auflage
240 Seiten
Nick Hern Books (Verlag)
978-1-78850-753-0 (ISBN)

Infos

In his bestselling book The Actor and the Target, Declan Donnellan laid out a fresh and radical approach to acting that has inspired actors around the world. Now, in The Actor and the Space, he develops and extends those ideas, exploring that most profound source of vitality in life as well as performance: the space around us. Tackling fundamental questions that face any actor - What makes performance better? How do I create a space for my character to live in? How do I tap into that space, and draw energy from it? - Donnellan offers a universal set of keys to unlock the mysteries of performance. Full of insightful precepts, acute psychology and practical, hands-on advice, the book presents a bold new way of thinking about acting, illustrated throughout with line-by-line analysis of scenes from Macbeth to show how it works in rehearsal and performance. Essential reading for any actor or theatre director, The Actor and the Space is also a fascinating distillation of the work of a world-leading director that will reward and enrich anyone with an interest in theatre. 'A hand grenade of a book. It contains all the humility and chutzpah you need to work in the theatre.' Cate Blanchett 'A wonderful book. Few directors think as deeply or perceptively about the art of acting as Declan Donnellan. This is an essential text for the actor, supremely useful, practical, elegant and profound.' Matthew Macfadyen 'Beautifully clear. This generous vision takes a very complex art form and makes it all seem so simple. The whole book is a key. Unlocking the problems actors face as they try to accept another reality long enough to let the audience get a glimpse of the best our art can offer - a glimpse into themselves.' Adrian Lester 'Declan Donnellan's profound insight and point of departure is that great theatre, like a child's sandcastle, inhabits a vulnerable and ever-changing space between the safe and the dangerous. There is a whole lot of wisdom in this book - about tragedy, human psychology, words, dread and about how great acting really works - conveyed with remarkable clarity and simplicity. It's worth sharing with non-actor friends for its insights into Macbeth alone. Most of all, it's a distillation of hard-won lessons learned from decades of immersion in the mysteries of theatre by one of the great directors of our day.' James Shapiro, Shakespeare scholar and author of 1599: A Year in the Life of William Shakespeare

Declan Donnellan is an internationally acclaimed theatre director, co-founder and joint Artistic Director of Cheek by Jowl, and author of The Actor and the Target (Nick Hern Books, 2002) and The Actor and the Space (Nick Hern Books, 2024). Born of Irish parents, Donnellan grew up in London, and formed Cheek by Jowl with his partner Nick Ormerod in 1981. A focus on the actor's art has always been central to the company's work. Cheek by Jowl now performs in several languages with companies of actors in Spain, Italy, France, Russia, Romania and Bulgaria. Donnellan's work has been seen across the Globe including his iconic As You Like It, Ubu Roi and Boris Godunov. As Associate Director of the National Theatre, his productions included Fuenteovejuna, Sweeney Todd and the British premiere of both parts of Angels in America. He has staged work for the Royal Shakespeare Company, the Bouffes Du Nord and the Avignon Festival. Opera includes Falstaff at the Salzburg Festival and ballet, Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet for the Bolshoi. With Nick Ormerod he co-directed the feature film of Bel Ami. His first book, The Actor and the Target, was first published in Russia in 2002 - before being published in Britain and the United States, and translated into fourteen foreign languages. The Actor and the Space followed in 2024. He has been invited to teach and give workshops in many countries, and has received awards in Moscow, Paris, London and New York. He is a Chevalier de l'Ordre des Arts et des Lettres, and in 2016 for his work on the art of acting was given the Golden Lion of Venice.

Textauszug

It seems to us that our most important job as theatre-makers is to encourage the flow of life on stage. So it follows that we need to think a little about what the experience of being alive is like.

Is it possible to make a useful generalisation? Well, this one has proved reliable over the years: life is largely about trying to fix the space. From the very moment we are born, we are already trying to make things better. We can’t breathe, so we take a gulp of oxygen. We feel hungry, so we scream to get fed. When we are wet, we cry. When we are cold, we snuggle up to our mother’s breast. When we are uncomfortable, we wriggle. We will do this even before we can focus our tiny eyes enough to see the world around us.

To begin with, we don’t have words for all these different feelings. But as we grow, our parents help us to label them as distinct experiences, called ‘hunger’, ‘discomfort’, ‘fear’, ‘rage’, and so on. We dislike these bad feelings, but they are tremendously useful. If hunger didn’t feel horrible, we would starve to death. These bad feelings keep us alive. They also give us something to do. And doing is the very stuff of life. If the baby ever stops wriggling or struggling to fix a bad feeling, and is awake but completely still, it’s a warning signal to their parents that something is wrong.

We have structured this book around a series of keys. These have helped us solve problems in rehearsal. The important thing about keys is that they are not sacred principles. They are only tools. Whatever you do, please do not turn this into a rule book for making a play. These keys are not sticks to beat yourself with in rehearsal. But when we feel stuck or discouraged it can feel a bit like being locked in a room. Hopefully one of these keys will unlock the door and release you. So let’s take this as our first key:

A character is always trying to fix the space.

This fixing will go on for our whole life. We never stop trying to make the space feel more comfortable. When we see a bully in the playground, we hide. When we come in from the rain feeling miserable, we put the kettle on and make toast. When the floor gets dirty, we clean it. Even in our smallest actions, we are always trying to improve the here and now. Of course, some of our solutions are more sensible than others. And even ignoring one problem, let’s say a leaking roof, probably means you are busily fixing something else as a distraction.

But we are condemned to keep on trying to fix the space until the last question about when the next dose of morphine is due. All spaces are different, very different, but they all have one thing in common. No space is ever ideal. Every space needs to be mended, however slightly. Indeed, advertisers make fortunes selling us perfect spaces. Not because they exist, but because we would pay anything to have one. Sadly, humans can never swim in totally calm water; there will always be some turbulence.

The space is never neutral.

Let’s think about sandcastles for a moment. There are at least three things that are fascinating about sandcastles. First, small children don’t need to be taught how to make them. Indeed, adults who try to teach them are normally sent packing. It seems to be one of those primordial games we are programmed to play. Secondly, ‘sandcastle’ is a misnomer, because it’s not really about the ‘castle’ bit at all. The simple cylinder of sand shaped by the bucket gets scant attention.

The structures that really interest the child are the runnels and walls and moats that surround the castle. The child delights in watching the waters gurgle round, wondering at the almighty sea being harnessed and controlled within their structures. Thirdly, and most importantly, the child prefers to build the castle in the tidal area where the water is coming and going. They choose the spot where their sandcastle will be destroyed by the tide. They choose the annihilation of their own creation.

Strangely, of all the many things that disappointed me as a child, coming back the next morning to find my sandcastle washed away was not one of them. Like most children, I cheerfully set about building a new one. Yes, there are a few ultra-sensible children who build their sandcastles to last for ever, way up on the dry sand well above the advancing line of the tide. Few beachcombers bother to inspect them except for dogs with loose bladders. Children tend to ignore those sophisticated structures, with their posh flags and dry battlements, erected away from the destructive power of the ocean. They’re built on water-free territory. Frankly, these castles feel safe, boring and dead. Most children prefer to watch the castles that are right on the edge of the tide. These are temporary, under threat, and therefore alive.

This is a game all about fixing the space. The children build their sandcastles in the in-between space between safe and dangerous, at the very edges of their power. They are bartering with the immensity of the ocean. This in-between space is thrilling because it is constantly changing. The tide keeps creeping up and down the shore, and so the rules are in flux. The children are caught up in a shifting contest of control over two things: time and space. They are exerting a tiny corner of control over the immense ocean, in a tiny corner of time when the tide is in just the right place for just the right fraction of the day. Just enough time to make a sandcastle, before it yields and is dashed to pieces by the waves.

This is the pattern of our lives. The space presents us with a series of challenges, sometimes small, sometimes overwhelming, and we are constantly trying to manage them. We must make peace with the fact that the world is always going to be more vast, more chaotic, more arbitrary and more powerful than we want it to be. We’re just struggling to control the little corner of space and time that we happen to be standing in. We’re trying to make ourselves feel safe. Just a bit safe, for now, at least.

Of course, another big part of the challenge is that the space around us is always changing. Nothing ever stands still. In fact, nothing can stand still. Everything is moving. Even a rock is just a very monotonous vibration. Everything, without exception, is in a process of change. And because the space is always changing, our attempts to fix it never finally work. We can never truly be in control. Our sandcastles will always be washed away.

Children who build sandcastles can therefore teach us a lot about acting and art and life. It’s all to do with facing destruction and accepting loss, and understanding that the only place where life may exist is in the narrow borderland between order and chaos. Children find life by building their sandcastles in the dangerous space and not the safe one. All characters in all scenes are making sandcastles on the edge of the shore. They are playing with a tiny patch of control, in a massive, continuously changing world. All the energy and life in any scene comes from this ever-failing struggle for control over the almighty space.

The space is always changing, so the character is never in control.

Let’s look at the rehearsal of Macbeth with Irina and Alex. As with every character, the Macbeths spend the whole play trying to fix the space. And, just like children building sandcastles, they soon discover that after every attempt, a new wave comes along and destroys their efforts. The space refuses to remain fixed. Their sandcastle is never secure. They start the play trying to control the space. They seem somehow dissatisfied because they are not king and queen. So they fix the space by murdering Duncan and putting themselves in his place. As soon as they do that, they discover that the space doesn’t feel more comfortable after all. So, they fix it again, and again, and again. They won’t stop until it finally kills them (and a lot of other Scots). This endless sandcastle-building is happening in every second of every scene.

Let’s look at the famous ‘dagger’ speech with our actor Alex. This is a moment just before he murders Duncan, as Macbeth lurks waiting for his wife’s signal. It will help Alex to think that all scenes essentially have the same pattern: they are a chain reaction of the characters trying to fix the space around them. The space changes faster than Macbeth can keep up with. It’s always hurling new problems at him which he must fix. He tries to come up with solutions, but ultimately they always fail. He never achieves full control. This is his text:

‘Is this a dagger which I see before me,

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible

To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but

A dagger of the mind, a false creation,

Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

I see thee yet, in form as palpable

As this which now I draw.

Thou marshall’st me the way that I was going,

And such an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools o’ the other senses,

Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,

And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,

Which was not so before. There’s no such thing.

It is the bloody business which informs

Thus to mine eyes. Now...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 14.3.2024
• Verlagsort: London
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Kunst / Musik / Theater ► Theater / Ballett
• Schlagworte: Acting • Actor • Character • Director • Guide • how to • Macbeth • Performance • Plot • Practical • Psychology • Rehearsal • Structure • Theatre • theory
• ISBN-10: 1-78850-753-3 / 1788507533
• ISBN-13: 978-1-78850-753-0 / 9781788507530