Performers need an audience. By definition. We can’t simply
ignore that, even for “the sake of the art.”
"You Are an Ignorant Fool"
Not too long ago, a Facebook posting put a few of us on the
defensive about the quality of (what some referred to as “amateur”) theater in
the Rochester area. The individual who made the comments claimed to be quoting
someone else. Nice cop-out, Mr. Facebook Rant. It was a fairly lame way to
dodge the barrage of bullets in the form of comments and rebuttals that were
fired back. Never-the-less, this individual was commenting as a valued member of
the theater Audience, and had every right to his – relatively rude, biased, and
frankly uninformed – opinion. He had
seen a handful of productions on the Rochester stage and had made a vast and
sweeping generalization about all theater in Rochester.
I’m going to spare you a recap of the responses that
followed – which, themselves ranged from the relatively uninformed to the
downright rude – because after all, we had all felt attacked and we had every
right to defend ourselves and our work. Everyone is entitled to his or her
opinion, no matter how rude or uninformed; but as a valued and contributing member
of our Audience, he had the right to be heard.
We have the right to respond. And we did.
But we also have the obligation
to listen.
And to act. Especially when that opinion differs from our
expectation.
The Need to Listen and Act
We invite our friends, family and other loved ones to our
performance. We are proud. We expect them to enjoy it and we (at least in part)
expect their praise following that performance. And with good reason. We’ve
worked hard, we invested our time and talent, sometimes at great sacrifice to
other aspects of our lives, and most times we are not remunerated. So the only
form of compensation we do receive is in the accolades showered upon us at the
conclusion. It feels good to know your efforts are appreciated. It contributes
to our well being and for most of us, it’s part of why we do what we do: for
the love of the art. And let’s be honest: it’s a nice feeling when the art
loves us back.
But the skeptical audience, like Mr. Facebook Rant, is
disinterested in our well-being. Theirs is an outside opinion. They have invested
nothing. They aren’t objective; that’s not what I’m purporting. An opinion is
always subjective. That’s what makes it an opinion.
But it is unbiased, and hopefully, impartial. We hope, at
least, they did not come to mock or ridicule or find fault or criticize. That
is the work of the professional critic. And even then, we must remember that review is, again, only one person’s
opinion.
The opinions of our Audience, no matter how ill-advised, no
matter how poorly delivered, should matter to us. And not just after the fact –
after the curtain call, as we are meeting and greeting our adoring public,
poised and ready to receive the accolades of friends, family and strangers who
came to see us inform, move, entertain, or otherwise affect them with our
performance. The opinions of our audience should matter to us from the very
beginning and throughout the entire process.
Ignore the Audience and Pander To Them
I saw an episode of Inside
the Actors’ Studio where George Lucas (of Star Wars and others fame) was the guest. At some point during the
interview, James Lipton engaged Mr. Lucas in a discussion of the purpose of the
movie-going audience and the part they play in the director’s process of making
a movie. Mr. Lucas said something then that has stuck in my memory ever since.
Although I don’t remember his exact words, it went something like this, “A good
director ignores the audience and simultaneously, panders to them.”
Film and theater are alike in many respects, not the least
of which is the form the art itself takes. Theater (and film) is when you take something
two-dimensional, black and white, cold and lifeless, and turn it into something
colorful, breathing, three-dimensional and full of life. Theater happens when
you take a work of art from page to stage (I didn’t make that up, and I don’t recall
who said it first or where I read it first, but I’ve borrowed it ever since). To
do that successfully, you must make choices. Lots of them. Everything you do on
the stage is a choice.
Theater is the artform of choice.
It’s a balancing act.
You don’t make every artistic choice based on “what the
audience will think.” To do that would not be simply debilitating to your
artistry, it would be downright paralyzing. After all, not everyone in the
audience will have the same response, reaction, or opinion about what they’ll see
and hear. You would drive yourself crazy trying to please everyone. No, you
cannot simply pander to the audience.
But you do make sure that whatever your choices make, you
take responsibility for how they might be perceived. Theater performance, after
all, has little value performed in a vacuum. It is an artform that requires an audience.
It is our job to reel them in; to create a world in which they can immerse
themselves and forget about everything else except what is happening before them; to make them believe.
So, no, you cannot simply ignore them.
Meant To Be Seen and Heard
Remember theater is the artform of “page to stage.” It is
the artform of choice. We are in
control. We have the power. The director’s job is to advise, guide and encourage
the choices the actor makes. The actor’s job is to make us believe them.
Make. Me. Believe
you.
Choices, therefore and of course, must be made to be
realistic, believable and true to the text (the “page”). However, choices that
don’t look good, or sound good, or do not translate well in performance (the “stage”)
should and must be reconsidered. Sometimes, the believability must run a close
2nd place.
You see, and you know this – the audience has not read the
play. Typically. Some may have, if you have theater aficionados present, or
(the most special case) an audience of actors and other theater artists. At the
very, very least, the audience
(probably) doesn’t have a copy of the text in front of them, to which to refer
during your performance! So you need to be heard and understood before you can
be believed.
Make Me Believe You
So what does this mean?
Directors, I’ll address you first.
At least once (the more often the better, but don’t overdo
it!), spend some rehearsal time in the shoes of your audience. Put on your
theater-goer hat and sit out in the house. Watch. Listen. Divorce yourself from
your process as best you can. Better yet, if you can, invite a trusted
colleague to come in to watch, listen, and provide you some feedback from an
audience perspective.
[By the way, those of you in New York, the Theatre
Association of New York State (TANYS) offers a very valuable service in this
respect, in the form of a Rehearsal Adjudication. For more information, please
visit www.tanys.org or contact me at info@blacksheeptheatre.org.]
Encourage your actors to consider their audience as well.
They must make their own choices, it’s true, with your guidance and direction.
Their choices must make sense within the text, your vision, the structure of
the play, and from the perspective of an outside observer (i.e., the audience).
Without consideration of how their performance will be seen and heard, it will
fall flat. There’s no way around that.
Now actors, here is my advice to you.
Know your text. Know your character. Do your homework. It’s
not just memorizing your lines and thinking, “How am I going to say this line?”
No. That’s the sure way to C-minus acting. You know (or should know) you have
to understand your character’s motivations, objectives, obstacles, tactics and
relationships to all the other characters. All of those things affect your
performance and you know (or should know) that. The choices you make must be
realistic and true to the text.
Make your choices active, solid, clear, and as powerful as
you can.
Then, pay close attention to where and how you stand (sit,
walk, enter, exit, etc.) and do everything with your body. This translates to how you will be seen. Then, pay
attention to your diction, your volume, your accent (as appropriate) and
everything you do with your voice. This translates to how you will be heard. The choices you make with your body and your
voice must be realistic and believable. To whom? You guessed it: to the
audience.
Your job is make them, your
audience, believe you.
The True Value of The Skeptic
Because the audience is making their own choices, too.
They may not choose believe you automatically. At best, they
will come in with at least part of their disbelief suspended. In this case, we
must do everything within our power to allow and enable them to keep it
suspended.
And sometimes, they may come in as the skeptic, full of
doubt, maybe even full of disbelief. That is where our challenge lies, to make
active, powerful and clear choices, to make
them believe you.
Especially if they choose to be skeptical.
The more skeptical the audience is, the harder we have to
work. The harder we work, the better we do our job. The better we do our job,
the better we are for the art.
So here’s to you, Mr. Facebook Rant, our skeptical audience.
Thank you for making us great.
[Diane Mashia has been
recognized four times by the Theatre Association of New York State for
Excellence in Directing. At the state-wide TANYS Festival last fall, her
production Feeding the Moonfish was honored with Best Overall Production
Design and Execution. In April, Feeding
the Moonfish won Outstanding
Production First Place at the Eastern States Theatre Association Festival
competition in La Plata, MD. Next month, Feeding the Moonfish will go
on compete in the American Association of Community Theatre national festival
competition in Grand Rapids, MI; the first community theater organization from
Rochester, NY to ever have this distinction. Donations are now being accepted
to help fund the project. To lend your support, you can make a contribution via
PayPal at donate@blacksheeptheatre.org, or contact info@blacksheeptheatre.org
for more information. Your generosity and support are most appreciated!]
