Tim Sweeney: A Student's Memory of Uta Hagen

Tim Sweeney, an HB Studio alumnus, recently told his friends that he had "dusted off his acting chops after what seems like centuries...", and had already gone before the cameras on HBO's Crashing, and Netflix's Orange is the New Black, 7th season, the final episode. "It's never too late to do what you love doing," he said.

On a wonderfully freezing (red nose cold) winter night about six years ago we'd gone to the White Horse Tavern where Tim told me an anecdote about Uta that very few HB alumni or even her students would've had the privilege to experience.  I'd meant to share it here long ago, considering the deep positive influence she had on so many of us, whether or not we pursued the work, so that exactly what she'd said or demonstrated in our presence remains imprinted in us and can be summoned, brought sharply into focus, at a moment's notice.

Here's an excerpt, edited by me, of the message Tim sent me when I asked him to please write what he told me he'd experienced of Uta's work:

"Back in the early 80s, I believe it was 1984, I had the opportunity to work on The Silver Fox by Donna DeMateo, produced at the HB Playwrights Foundation starring Uta Hagen and Kelly Wolf.  I was in charge of running the sound effect equipment.  In my lifetime being both a working actor or a backstage tech, I have never seen so much organic behind the scenes preparation with which Uta Hagen encircled herself.

Ms. Hagen was very particular about place.  What is my relationship to where I am?  Is it an unknown place?  Is it my home?  Is it someone else's home?  What does the rest of the place that is offstage look like in relation to what is onstage?  If it's a living room, where is the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom?  Is it raining outside or is it sunny?  What time of day is it?  Is it hot, cold; snowing?

Watching her offstage preparations was like watching a performance in itself.  The Silver Fox took place in a living room, and I witnessed her making several entrances from various areas of the set during the play, and she would literally walk in place before she entered the set.  She knew how many steps it took to get from the offstage bedroom to the onstage living room.  Just looking at her, you could see what she saw."

Break a leg, Tim!

Visual Syntax: The Role of the Director

The HBO series, My Brilliant Friend was an admirable production for many reasons; the script adaptation, the casting, the acting, the direction, the music, the work of art that results when the contributions of all the collaborators creates a compelling production from beginning to end.

I have many thoughts to share about My Brilliant Friend, and I might write more than one post about it, but would like to begin with the work of the director, Saverio Costanzo.  The actors I coach whose performances are affected by the abilities of their directors will recognize my observations about scenes that were either shot well or poorly; that there are directors who do or don't understand visual syntax and how important it is, not only for the best use of the actor's performance, but also for the dramatic telling of the story.  As much as I caution actors against performing a scene narratively, I think actors should be aware that the director's use of visual syntax is the narrative aspect of the drama.

In that regard, please view the first scene above from episode 7.  Note the director's narrative:  Elena leaves the shop.  As she walks toward the town square, she sees, in the distance, a portion of Donato's figure (the man who sexually molested her) behind a building as he watches her.  She stares at him, frozen, when, suddenly, the full face and figure of her teacher, Oliviero takes up the frame and obliterates Donato, and as she and the teacher stroll through town, the teacher focuses her on her life and its future.  There were many individual scenes in this series that could be singled out for excellent visual syntax.  I chose this one now because I thought it was breathtaking.

The scene below it from episode 8, Lila's wedding invitation to Oliviero, is progression from the previous scene.  It speaks for itself, but, speaking of resonance, all you followers of Stella Adler -- remember her remark regarding all the very talented young women in her classes, who, for some unfathomable reason married, had children, and moved to Scarsdale?!  Remember how she pronounced Scarsdale?

The third clip, from episode 8, the end of the wedding scene, is total visual syntax without dialogue; the heartbreak of betrayal told with increasing magnitude with each succeeding frame.

Character's Need / Listening / Processing

   *see footnote

In the first season of True Detective there were two scenes (one in the first episode, one in the second episode) in which each actor had to say the same sentence:  "I'm sorry," in response to the same information.  I think Michelle Monaghan performed it incorrectly in the first episode, whereas Woody Harrelson performed it correctly in the second episode.

Character's Need/Action:  We've established that the actor's task is to play the action/need of the character with each sentence uttered, and that a thought/image is driving the idea of the sentence (Don't Open Your Mouth Until You Know...10/2/17 post).

Listening:  I don't agree with Sandy Meisner's repetition exercise because although its purpose is to teach the actor to listen to their partner, being able to repeat what one has just heard is not what we do when we listen.  Listening is active participation, processing, trying to perceive the thought/image that our partner is trying to convey.  Accurate hearing is not the same thing as active listening.

Processing:  I think that it's necessary for the actor to be aware that we process our thoughts/images when we speak as well as when we listen.

Working just from some highlights of the plot in the first episode from the POV of Ms. Monaghan's character, Maggie, we know that she's been trying to get her husband's new partner over for dinner for three months, that lately, she's been insisting on having him over, because Marty (Harrelson) delivers a line to Rust (McConaughey), "We can't put Maggie off anymore," and we know that she woke Marty in the morning after a night he didn't come home, as he slept in his clothes on a chair in the living room, and although she didn't play her action(s) strongly enough once she woke him, making it difficult to hear her, we know that Maggie has a, so far, unspecified POV about her husband's job.  Of course, Ms. Monaghan needed to know specifically what that POV was (previous circumstances, backstory!).  Rust was drunk when he arrived for dinner.  Ms. Monaghan didn't respond to that in any specific way, and although the questions she put to him about himself when Marty left the table were incorrect non-specific actions, I'll not discuss each one here.  Let's just consider her response when she learned that his daughter died.  His daughter died, his marriage died -- her little girls were sitting there -- she saw him looking at her daughters -- I think that it was necessary for her to process his experience as she responded with "I'm sorry."

Harrelson had a very similar action in the scene in the car during the second episode, and he had to say the same two words, "I'm sorry."  He performed correctly; he processed the concept, the idea, of the dead child.

*Jeff Solema now downloads selected footage. Thanks!

Glenn Close - Not a "Method" Actor?

It was a pleasure to watch Glenn Close and Jonathan Pryce perform such an articulate duet in The Wife; exquisite counterpoint and harmony; musical terms, yes, but that's what their work reminded me of.

In her January 21, 2019 interview in The Guardian, Ms. Close discussed that film and some of her other performances.  In her remarks about the character Joan in The Wife, she mentioned her mother:  “I didn’t channel her. Although of course I had seen her taking the back seat to my father my whole life, so it was in my DNA. I had a well of subliminal experience to draw on.” Regarding the character's ideas, POV:  "It's not that they hadn’t been expressed before, but I guess they resonate in this moment. For that whole generation, pre-feminism, that’s the way it was. That was the norm. It’s caused me to look back at my two grandmothers, who were basically unfulfilled women. One had this beautiful singing voice and she wasn’t allowed to pursue that. My other grandmother, whose wedding ring I’m wearing throughout this awards season, dreamed of being an actress.”  She then revealed that it was this latter grandmother who inspired her 1982 performance of Jenny Fields in The World According to Garp.

Further in the interview, Ms. Close remarked, "I'm so glad to do what I do because even though I’m not a method actor and I don’t use my life in my acting, my work is still a progression."

I hope that my students and readers can easily recognize the continuing confusion that Adler and Strasberg initiated and that is dogmatically followed by their disciples so that even a seasoned, talented actor will contradict herself, in one conversation!

Reminder:  The word "Method" was coined by Strasberg.  Stanislavsky referred to it as a "System."  To conflate Strasberg's POV with Stanislavsky's POV is incorrect.  And to differentiate between substitution/affective memory and imagination?  Still?  Ms. Close didn't live the life of her mother or her grandmothers, but weren't their lives carved into her lived experience?  Her grandma's wedding ring answers that question.

BTW, in this interview Ms. Close addressed an aspect of my discussion regarding Amy Adams's error in Sharp Objects when she discussed her role in Fatal Attraction.  She said, “I had so many secrets as Alex.  The woman I was playing was not the same one who was perceived by the public. But I didn’t have the dialogue or the scenes to illuminate her backstory (my italics).  If you did Fatal Attraction from Alex’s point of view, she would be a tragic person, not a dangerous, evil one.” Ms. Close, in her performance in Fatal Attraction correctly played the actions/needs of the character, cognizant of the character's inner life, which she referred to here as Alex's secrets.

"Do You Use Substitution or Imagination,"

Emma Stone asked Timothée Chalamet during a recent discussion on Variety Studio: Actors on Actors.  To the best of my recollection, his answer was vague and I don't recall what he said.  If someone remembers his answer, please tell me.  Regardless, the odd separation between substitution and imagination that has been carried forward all these years by the students of Adler and Strasberg, and then by their students' students has become some sort of meaningless mantra, and should indeed lead to vague answers when asked if one uses one or the other.

We are the sum total of our life experience, which includes incidents we've personally experienced and those we've read or heard about, all of which become memory.  Some incidents, either directly experienced or learned indirectly will resonate for us when we encounter analogous circumstances  while others will not.  I vividly recall a remark from Uta Hagen when she told my class that there are many characters each of us can play.  She reached her arm behind her and dangled her hand up and down from her wrist, and I could see the lineup she was indicating of all those characters behind her.  Then she said that as well, there were characters we couldn't perform either yet or ever, depending on our life experience.

I think that if the actor plunges directly into the actions of the character, that actor will very soon discover the extent to which the character's needs resonate.  It will either be conscious or subconscious, but the analogy will be there.  Remember Robert Lewis's observation that it isn't necessary to consciously know what specific incident from one's own experience resonates.  I've personally experienced that he was correct, and have worked with many actors who, in the beginning of rehearsal are clueless why they understand the need of the character, and then, as we work, they remember incidents sometimes uncannily similar or strongly analogous to what they already know about their character's needs.

We don't know what we don't know, and we can't imagine what we don't know, but we do know what we know!  Our imagination is derived from our life experience.  You don't ever forget anything that has happened to you, Stella Adler said -- I just can't remember if I read it, or heard her say it in one of her lectures on YouTube.

The Amy Adams Approach to Sharp Objects

In my 7/20/18 post, "'Dramas are Too Quiet'" AKA Where's the Actor's Technique?" I had responded to Kathryn VanArendonk's discussion of Sharp Objects in the 7/18 edition of Vulture magazine.  Ms. VanArendonk had complained that she couldn't hear all of the dialogue.  She went on to say, "I'll admit that this is a cranky, cantankerous objection, and it's also a massive self-own.  ("I love this show but I can't hear anything they say!" the ancient, belligerent woman yelled online.)  It's an even bigger self-own for someone who may have, perhaps, complained about TV being (literally) too dark.  But the dialogue on Sharp Objects is occasionally so inaudible that it's a very real distraction from an otherwise gorgeous show.  It's time to talk about this problem!"

Further in the article she commented on a particular scene in the show that I chose to address in my 7/20/18 post.  I wrote, "Ms. VanArendonk mentioned a telephone exchange that Amy Adams performed.  I didn't go back to watch it, but am certain that Ms. Adams did not examine carefully, for that scene, what made her say each thought.  It's my opinion that Ms. Adams understands her characters very well in many of her performances.  Her work in Doubt, for example, was luminous.  What a pleasure it was to be taken for a secure ride with the lead actors of that film!  However, in Sharp Objects, I think she hasn't sharpened the actions of each sentence; she has worked on the inner life of the character and is showing it.  But the character utters ideas/needs in order to survive, to get a grip on her relationship to her environment, and each sentence she utters is progressive toward the journey of discovery she has undertaken. "What need is making me say this sentence?"   We would hear the ideas of each sentence with clarity if Ms. Adams had done this preparatory work."

Recently, Backstage published a 12/5/18 article, The Amy Adams Approach written by Jenna Marotta, in which Ms. Adams discussed her performance in Sharp Objects and clarified for me why, in my opinion, she performed incorrectly.  In her discussion of her preparations for the role, Ms. Adams stated that the director, Jean-Marc Vallée was against the use of voiceover, “so it was really important to me to be able to communicate her inner monologue just through acting.  There’s a sadness and an intensity about her, but she’s also very raw and very vulnerable, and also very compassionate, like strangely compassionate.”  This is the error I perceived when I watched her performance.

Although many actors might be able to define the inner monologue correctly, its use in English is a translation from Russian, and, I've heard, is still used in acting classes at MAT.  But what Vakhtangov meant by inner monologue was thought/images. (The story I learned was that Vakhtangov insisted to Stanislavsky that that this must be practiced; it doesn't matter to me whose realization it was - some of us might think it's very important, I don't.)  Inner monologue suggests complete, clear, consecutive sentences.  But thought isn't like that. It's kaleidoscopic, isn't it?  How can an actor perform the kaleidoscopic inner thoughts/images of a character? 

Well, one can't act a thought; one can't "communicate" the inner life of the character except through action.  It's the action, the objective, the "what do I want to do?", the need (I like Kim Stanley's idea to use need; it's stronger), in short, one can only act a verb; not a noun or adjective, and certainly not a feeling or emotion.  I realize I'm going over familiar ground, but look how easily very talented actors can fall into the trap of trying to compensate for the decision of a director.

I

Thought Without Language

  

Once again, regarding my 10/2/17 post, "Don't Open Your Mouth Until You Know What Image is Driving the Thought".  All humans constantly, consciously, think about something while awake.  When actors are living their life or performing an improvisation, they're also always thinking.  For some reason, they seem to omit thought when performing text.  Conclusion:  The only humans who omit thought from language are actors.