“Setting the Stage”
There is no higher art than learning itself. Returning to study this month has reminded me why I started in on this profession of acting in the first place. We need it to understand ourselves, and, at its best, those of us who put our faces, bodies and voices on display are offering a way to make sense of our collective experiences in this lifetime. We aggrandize the normal in order to highlight its significance. But I’m not so naive to believe these things are always offered with such noble intentions – there’s that little matter of narcissism, ego, and an unhealthy need for attention that seems to linger in most actors. Still, there are two sides to this coin.
This week I was reminded of something I’d long thought of as silly when it comes to classes, and I couldn’t help but think of it as another chance to put my feelings about interpretive choice to the test. Acting studios keep a mishmash of props around. They’re typically in closets, or hidden behind a tattered curtain in the back of the room. And actors presenting scenes haul them out to set the stage for their work. A bench here, a ratty chair there, a wobbly desk over there, maybe some well-worn fake flowers beside a rotary phone and voila! you’ve got what is meant to be a country estate in the south of France. Or a Brooklyn apartment circa 1962. It’s all the same, really, and it always looks like a pawn shop.
I have always preferred not to dress my set in class. Two chairs and a table is fine by me. Ideally, it’s about the work being done by the performers, not whether they managed to use every last piece of wood found in a nearby alleyway. If a teacher is critiquing your lack of set design, I would suggest moving on. Anyway, I digress…
Now, the “full monty” set strikes could be one of two things. It’s either very sad and pathetic – how can these poor, desperate actors not realize how absurd they look amongst GoodWill rejects – or it’s a testament to incredible powers of imagination – how amazing is it that these actors can believe that this is a real place, and get us to do the same.
I’m still mulling this one over. I’ll get back to you in a couple of weeks after I present my first scene in more years than I care to count. Besides, if you believe Shakespeare’s claim that “all the world’s a stage,” is any room, with its collection of things, really all that different? I spent years with a study that looked increasingly like a garage sale… perhaps we are “merely players.”
But are we not also our own authors? I see I still have much to learn…
For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.