_ Awkward Stages
Thoughts on Theatre and Acting
by J Chachula
Author's note: These short essays are included here as a way to introduce my point of view to potential students. Trying to decide on an acting class can be difficult, and once you find a class that offers content you're looking for, the big question is whether or not the teacher will be the right one for you.
were written over the past 10 years
Sport vs. Art
Like most theatre companies, we’re a Nonprofit Organization, a 501(c) 3 in IRS lingo. We're a business that couldn't survive on the profits made on what we produce, because there is no profit. It costs more to produce a show that it brings in. A lot more. So nonprofits have to raise funds by other means. I’ve grown more and more uncomfortable with this as the years pass. Part of my discomfort stems from my aversion to asking (or “begging”, depending on how depressed I feel) for money. But mainly I hate it because I feel guilty pleading for money to support an art form that this country has never embraced. I hate having to make a case for Theatre.
Over the years I’ve heard plenty of people complain about our obsession with sports. They look out at at row after row of empty seats and suggest all those sports fans would be so much better off out of the stadium and into a theater. They blame Theatre’s lack of popularity on the Dumbing Down of America. But I don’t blame them for not plopping their rowdy selves into our seats to watch Hedda Gabler.
Perhaps we should take an honest look at what a good game offers to devoted fans. Why do people enjoy watching sports more than watching theatre? Because your average game of basketball or football or soccer is better theatre. These people are fighting for their lives out there! No one is casually playing the game, they are out for blood. Everyone knows it, everyone feels it. And most of the crowd is passionately invested in the story--and it is a story--playing out in front of them. How often do you experience that while watching a play? Until we can offer that excitement on a consistent basis, we will continue to
Stage vs. Screen
Many of us in Theatre spend a lot of time and effort trying to get more people to see our plays. It’s a tough sell. We don’t have a strong tradition of theater-going in the United States; it’s only a peripheral part of our culture. But the real reason why the vast majority of us don’t see stage plays is this: because more often than not, theatre sucks.
The most comparable rival to Theatre is Film, but by almost every measure a movie will kick the crap out of a play. Visually it’s often stunning—we see miraculous things on the screen, imaginations unfettered by the physical and budgetary limitations of the stage. The acting is better. The actors are better looking. The music can be great. And even at $10, a movie is cheaper—sometimes a helluva lot cheaper—than a play.
The theater has one—just one--real advantage over the movies—and that advantage is constantly wasted. The theater is live; it’s happening right in front of you. Try this: think of a really good fight scene in a movie. The actors are good and are really throwing themselves into the battle. The makeup and effects are flawless, the camera lets you see blood and bone flying in gorgeous slow-motion arcs across the screen. You’re totally involved in the story, your breathing and heart are racing, you cringe with every blow. Ok, now think of a time when you were a witness to an actual fight—a real-life brawl that happened right in front of your eyes, perhaps between people you know. No big-name stars, no clever dialogue, your eyes incapable of providing fancy visuals or special effects. Which experience left a bigger impression on you? I suspect that there was really no comparison, that the thing that happened right in front of you had the bigger impact. We’ve seen hundreds, probably thousands of conflicts on screens of all sizes. But the conflicts that we witnessed are the ones we often can’t shake.
When an actor is working deeply, right in front of you, we in the audience can have one of those thrilling, unshakable experiences. Unfortunately, more often than not, this incredible potential is pissed away.
Someone sees a bad movie, they won’t stop seeing movies. If they see a bad play? Forget about it. The chances of seeing that guy in the audience again are pretty slim. It’s hard enough getting new people into the theatre; getting them to come back is damn near impossible.
Unpredictability
I got a phone call not long ago from a gentleman interested in taking some acting classes. He’d seen one of my flyers somewhere and thought he’d call and find out what my angle was. Very nice guy. We chatted for a while, and eventually he got around to telling me a few of his experiences. He told me about a show he’d done where one of his fellow actors drove him crazy. Seems he was always changing things, and you never knew what he was going to do next. “Was he changing the lines?” I asked. No, it wasn’t that. It was that he kept changing the way he was saying the lines, and sometimes what he was doing while he was saying the lines. And since you couldn’t depend on him to do what he was supposed to do, he was behaving unprofessionally.
I immediately knew which actor I’d prefer to watch, and it wasn’t the caller. Who wants to work with an actor who does the same thing the same way every time? And what audience member wants to see an actor play it safe? Who wants to see an actor who stubbornly insists on responding to what is supposed to happen rather than what actually is happening?
Dan Sipp, one of the most gifted improvisers I’ve ever seen, would come off stage after a wonderfully funny improvised scene and dismiss my compliments. I’ve done variations of that scene a hundred times, he’d say. I did nothing new there. Now, the audience loved the scene. But Dan was disappointed with himself for leaning on (settling for?) ideas that still worked but that bored the hell out of him. Some people might accuse Dan of being self-absorbed, that it shouldn't be about him, it was about the audience. I’ve heard that statement many times, and I’ve said it myself. But come on. Acting is not a selfless activity. Actors are artists, and the artist that isn’t stimulated by the work he’s doing is doing a grave disservice to his audience as well as himself. He’s not going to last long, either.
It was from Dan that I heard of the “off-balance moment”, and I’ve never forgotten it. These are moments when something completely unexpected happens.Off-balance moments are feared by many, if not most actors. These moments, or "accidents" if you will, are wonderful opportunities for the actor, and his or her response to these events says a lot about how prepared they are as actors, and who they are as artists.
What I Want to Say After a Bad Show
I hated the show. Not you, just the show. The production is fine, actually, but your actors are not up to the task. They understand what the play is about, but they have no personal connection to the circumstances. It doesn’t mean anything to them. I’m sure they believe the subject matter is Important and should be addressed by Art, etc. But the audience would have been better off reading the play at home. Or watching a documentary on the subject.
The Standing Ovation
I was recently at a performance of a play. It left a lot to be desired. The audience consisted primarily of friends and family of the actors involved--which is often the case--and one would imagine that they were there to support their people. Now, as I said, the production left a lot to be desired, but it wasn’t horrible. And it got a standing ovation.
I don’t know how the standing ovation started. I know what it’s become, and I hate it.
I’ve gotten standing ovations. A few were deserved, most were not. The ones that were deserved were usually not much of a surprise, because you develop a sense during the show that the audience is with you, they’re involved, they’re engaged. Sometimes you just flat out know they’re digging you. It’s a good feeling, I recommend it. The ones that are undeserved leave me embarrassed and frustrated.
This is what supposed to happen, ideally: You are sitting in a theatre, and you’ve arrived at the end of the performance. It was breathtaking! The stage lights go down, which reminds you that you’re in a theater and that was a play you just saw, and so you begin to applaud enthusiastically. Madly, even. The sting of skin slapping against skin surprises you—you don’t usually clap this violently, and it actually hurts a bit. But you keep clapping anyway, and you’re not alone. Everyone is applauding like crazy. What you’ve just experienced was extraordinary, and within a moment you realize your hands are not capable of fully expressing how you feel. Suddenly you feel a sound deep in your gut and it erupts into another surprise—a Woo! Other sounds have emerged around you: brilliant, piercing whistles of appreciation, screams of Yes!, variations of your Woo! Still, it’s not enough, and within moments, you find yourself on your feet, cheering, and (as a friend once suggested) clapping ‘till your hands are bloody stumps. Sometimes you explode out of your seat and onto your feet immediately, before you realize it.
The standing ovation is the fullest expression of appreciation of an extraordinary event. There is no thought involved; it is pure impulse. If you have to think about whether or not to stand, even for a moment, whatever you’ve just seen doesn’t deserve it.
I’ve been to a lot of shows, and more often than I care to admit found myself the only one seated amongst a crowd of Standing Ovators. Don’t get me wrong: I was clapping.
Good old peer pressure. You don’t want to call attention to yourself, so you stand up and blend in. You want to be supportive, so you stand up. You might even worry that the actors can see who is standing and who is not, so you stand up.
Sometimes you justify standing because you’re going to have to stand eventually anyway, in order to walk to the exit. Hey, you’re just getting a head start, right?
Thoughts on Theatre and Acting
by J Chachula
Author's note: These short essays are included here as a way to introduce my point of view to potential students. Trying to decide on an acting class can be difficult, and once you find a class that offers content you're looking for, the big question is whether or not the teacher will be the right one for you.
were written over the past 10 years
Sport vs. Art
Like most theatre companies, we’re a Nonprofit Organization, a 501(c) 3 in IRS lingo. We're a business that couldn't survive on the profits made on what we produce, because there is no profit. It costs more to produce a show that it brings in. A lot more. So nonprofits have to raise funds by other means. I’ve grown more and more uncomfortable with this as the years pass. Part of my discomfort stems from my aversion to asking (or “begging”, depending on how depressed I feel) for money. But mainly I hate it because I feel guilty pleading for money to support an art form that this country has never embraced. I hate having to make a case for Theatre.
Over the years I’ve heard plenty of people complain about our obsession with sports. They look out at at row after row of empty seats and suggest all those sports fans would be so much better off out of the stadium and into a theater. They blame Theatre’s lack of popularity on the Dumbing Down of America. But I don’t blame them for not plopping their rowdy selves into our seats to watch Hedda Gabler.
Perhaps we should take an honest look at what a good game offers to devoted fans. Why do people enjoy watching sports more than watching theatre? Because your average game of basketball or football or soccer is better theatre. These people are fighting for their lives out there! No one is casually playing the game, they are out for blood. Everyone knows it, everyone feels it. And most of the crowd is passionately invested in the story--and it is a story--playing out in front of them. How often do you experience that while watching a play? Until we can offer that excitement on a consistent basis, we will continue to
Stage vs. Screen
Many of us in Theatre spend a lot of time and effort trying to get more people to see our plays. It’s a tough sell. We don’t have a strong tradition of theater-going in the United States; it’s only a peripheral part of our culture. But the real reason why the vast majority of us don’t see stage plays is this: because more often than not, theatre sucks.
The most comparable rival to Theatre is Film, but by almost every measure a movie will kick the crap out of a play. Visually it’s often stunning—we see miraculous things on the screen, imaginations unfettered by the physical and budgetary limitations of the stage. The acting is better. The actors are better looking. The music can be great. And even at $10, a movie is cheaper—sometimes a helluva lot cheaper—than a play.
The theater has one—just one--real advantage over the movies—and that advantage is constantly wasted. The theater is live; it’s happening right in front of you. Try this: think of a really good fight scene in a movie. The actors are good and are really throwing themselves into the battle. The makeup and effects are flawless, the camera lets you see blood and bone flying in gorgeous slow-motion arcs across the screen. You’re totally involved in the story, your breathing and heart are racing, you cringe with every blow. Ok, now think of a time when you were a witness to an actual fight—a real-life brawl that happened right in front of your eyes, perhaps between people you know. No big-name stars, no clever dialogue, your eyes incapable of providing fancy visuals or special effects. Which experience left a bigger impression on you? I suspect that there was really no comparison, that the thing that happened right in front of you had the bigger impact. We’ve seen hundreds, probably thousands of conflicts on screens of all sizes. But the conflicts that we witnessed are the ones we often can’t shake.
When an actor is working deeply, right in front of you, we in the audience can have one of those thrilling, unshakable experiences. Unfortunately, more often than not, this incredible potential is pissed away.
Someone sees a bad movie, they won’t stop seeing movies. If they see a bad play? Forget about it. The chances of seeing that guy in the audience again are pretty slim. It’s hard enough getting new people into the theatre; getting them to come back is damn near impossible.
Unpredictability
I got a phone call not long ago from a gentleman interested in taking some acting classes. He’d seen one of my flyers somewhere and thought he’d call and find out what my angle was. Very nice guy. We chatted for a while, and eventually he got around to telling me a few of his experiences. He told me about a show he’d done where one of his fellow actors drove him crazy. Seems he was always changing things, and you never knew what he was going to do next. “Was he changing the lines?” I asked. No, it wasn’t that. It was that he kept changing the way he was saying the lines, and sometimes what he was doing while he was saying the lines. And since you couldn’t depend on him to do what he was supposed to do, he was behaving unprofessionally.
I immediately knew which actor I’d prefer to watch, and it wasn’t the caller. Who wants to work with an actor who does the same thing the same way every time? And what audience member wants to see an actor play it safe? Who wants to see an actor who stubbornly insists on responding to what is supposed to happen rather than what actually is happening?
Dan Sipp, one of the most gifted improvisers I’ve ever seen, would come off stage after a wonderfully funny improvised scene and dismiss my compliments. I’ve done variations of that scene a hundred times, he’d say. I did nothing new there. Now, the audience loved the scene. But Dan was disappointed with himself for leaning on (settling for?) ideas that still worked but that bored the hell out of him. Some people might accuse Dan of being self-absorbed, that it shouldn't be about him, it was about the audience. I’ve heard that statement many times, and I’ve said it myself. But come on. Acting is not a selfless activity. Actors are artists, and the artist that isn’t stimulated by the work he’s doing is doing a grave disservice to his audience as well as himself. He’s not going to last long, either.
It was from Dan that I heard of the “off-balance moment”, and I’ve never forgotten it. These are moments when something completely unexpected happens.Off-balance moments are feared by many, if not most actors. These moments, or "accidents" if you will, are wonderful opportunities for the actor, and his or her response to these events says a lot about how prepared they are as actors, and who they are as artists.
What I Want to Say After a Bad Show
I hated the show. Not you, just the show. The production is fine, actually, but your actors are not up to the task. They understand what the play is about, but they have no personal connection to the circumstances. It doesn’t mean anything to them. I’m sure they believe the subject matter is Important and should be addressed by Art, etc. But the audience would have been better off reading the play at home. Or watching a documentary on the subject.
The Standing Ovation
I was recently at a performance of a play. It left a lot to be desired. The audience consisted primarily of friends and family of the actors involved--which is often the case--and one would imagine that they were there to support their people. Now, as I said, the production left a lot to be desired, but it wasn’t horrible. And it got a standing ovation.
I don’t know how the standing ovation started. I know what it’s become, and I hate it.
I’ve gotten standing ovations. A few were deserved, most were not. The ones that were deserved were usually not much of a surprise, because you develop a sense during the show that the audience is with you, they’re involved, they’re engaged. Sometimes you just flat out know they’re digging you. It’s a good feeling, I recommend it. The ones that are undeserved leave me embarrassed and frustrated.
This is what supposed to happen, ideally: You are sitting in a theatre, and you’ve arrived at the end of the performance. It was breathtaking! The stage lights go down, which reminds you that you’re in a theater and that was a play you just saw, and so you begin to applaud enthusiastically. Madly, even. The sting of skin slapping against skin surprises you—you don’t usually clap this violently, and it actually hurts a bit. But you keep clapping anyway, and you’re not alone. Everyone is applauding like crazy. What you’ve just experienced was extraordinary, and within a moment you realize your hands are not capable of fully expressing how you feel. Suddenly you feel a sound deep in your gut and it erupts into another surprise—a Woo! Other sounds have emerged around you: brilliant, piercing whistles of appreciation, screams of Yes!, variations of your Woo! Still, it’s not enough, and within moments, you find yourself on your feet, cheering, and (as a friend once suggested) clapping ‘till your hands are bloody stumps. Sometimes you explode out of your seat and onto your feet immediately, before you realize it.
The standing ovation is the fullest expression of appreciation of an extraordinary event. There is no thought involved; it is pure impulse. If you have to think about whether or not to stand, even for a moment, whatever you’ve just seen doesn’t deserve it.
I’ve been to a lot of shows, and more often than I care to admit found myself the only one seated amongst a crowd of Standing Ovators. Don’t get me wrong: I was clapping.
Good old peer pressure. You don’t want to call attention to yourself, so you stand up and blend in. You want to be supportive, so you stand up. You might even worry that the actors can see who is standing and who is not, so you stand up.
Sometimes you justify standing because you’re going to have to stand eventually anyway, in order to walk to the exit. Hey, you’re just getting a head start, right?