Author: Victoria Firth

16 May 2018

This blog was first written for The Royal Exchange where I was participating in their ‘Observer Mondays’ scheme with Sarah Frankcom directing Samuel Beckett’s ‘Happy Days’. You can see the original post here:

https://www.royalexchange.co.uk/inside-rehearsals-week-3-of-happy-days

OBSERVATION ON REHEARSAL WEEK 3 OF 7 MAY 2018

THE POWER OF 3

It strikes me that this play is about a 3 way relationship – a woman, a man and the landscape. The environment is unforgettably present and unusually it’s not about us making marks on the earth but beyond a tipping point to where the earth now makes, marks on us. The consequences and interdependence of this situation is the body of the drama and the relationship. Who is keeping who alive and in place? Who is witnessing who? Her body is part gone – she wants to keep moving and be seen. He has freedoms but doesn’t leave and is out of sight and reach. She wears the earth, the earth wears him. The world rotates.

It’s interesting how your perspective re-calibrates. Initially it appears that nothing much happens in this play but once you find its orbit, when your world closes down into the time and space of the play there is so much drama, so much emotion.

THE ACTOR, THE DIRECTOR AND THE TEXT

In going through the play Sarah is working with the actors on the interpretation and delivery of their lines, the development of their characters, the physicality of their performance and movements and their interactions with each other. This is a very detailed process. She may work with the actors on a paragraph of text several times before moving on. Each time asking them to try expressing it in a slightly different tone, mood or emotion or with different timing. Sometimes she tells anecdotes of people she knows or situations she’s seen to illustrate and relate the piece to real lives. Do you know anyone like that? My neighbour sometimes does this etc.

After all the options are explored a shared approach is agreed and then the process is repeated for the next section. It is a mining of the text. This is a particularly dense piece but I would imagine the essence of her approach translates to other works.

I am particularly struck by how the director and actors are able to reverse engineer the world of the characters from the text on the page. By interrogating the phrases, pauses and repetitions they are able to deduce elements of personality and plot.

In this case they are often exploring the mental health distortions caused by characters coping with the unimaginable: magical thinking, superstitions, filling up time, distracting oneself, avoiding triggers, remembering things that help and trying not to remember those that don’t, controlling daily routines – all are uncovered.

Sometimes Sarah explores a symbolic interpretation – what bigger resonance does this phrase or situation have? The writer has chosen everything for a reason.

THE DIRECTOR, THE ASSISTANT DIRECTOR AND THE MOVEMENT DIRECTOR

Atri Banerjee, the Assistant Director, is very active in rehearsals. Often working with the actors alone at the beginning or end of the session. He is reinforcing the decisions of the day and walking with the actors over the paths the characters take to tread a deeper imprint. He is also helping with the mammoth task of learning the lines. He finds balance between letting them run sections and find their flow and stopping them where there is an error. He is catching significant deviations so that the actors don’t need to unlearn any mistakes. When they are running text he works with the DSM to mark any bits of text that are ‘sticky’ so that the actors know the sections that they need to give more attention to.

I also get to observe Movement Director, Vicki Manderson, working with the company. At first I am not sure what the role of a movement director will be, as the actors can’t move very much, but her work is extraordinary in it’s detail. She asks questions of how living in compact situations would affect the movements of a character -how repetition would. She brings their attention to the specifics of everyday tasks often taken for granted and interrogates them – if you’re reading the paper does your head move as you read – or your eyes?

She also has an approach to gently sculpting the performance which echoes Sarah’s. When the actors make a suggestion it is completely acknowledged with ‘that’s one option- let’s try this way as well’. I have often wondered how, when working with professional actors, their opinion and the director’s come together but in this atmosphere of experimenting it seems easy. The actor’s first ideas and instincts are incorporated in an exploration where the director – whichever one it is – can then add their suggestion and then after embodying the options the director calls it and the shared direction is found.

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08 May 2018

This blog was first written for The Royal Exchange where I was participating in their ‘Observer Mondays’ scheme with Sarah Frankcom directing Samuel Beckett’s ‘Happy Days’. You can see the original post here:

https://www.royalexchange.co.uk/inside-rehearsals-week-1-of-happy-days

OBSERVATION OF REHEARSAL WEEK 1 OF 23 APRIL 2018

I come to this process as a ‘re-emerging’ director. Although many years ago I did a director’s training course it soon lapsed as I went into other roles and so I have a black bag full of theatre and life experience but my directing experience remains informal and ad hoc. I am interested to see what I can excavate of my previous knowledge and in particular to see how the director works with established professional actors and what it feels like to be directing under the auspices of a major regional producing theatre. The production I am observing is the absurdist play ‘Happy Days’ by Samuel Beckett. It follows 2 characters: a woman who in the first act is buried up to her waist and in the second act up to her neck – who talks almost constantly; and a man who is often out of sight and silent.

DIRECTORIAL CHALLENGES

On the first day after a meet and greet, design presentation and Sarah Frankcom’s opening remarks I am struck by what a challenging play this is to stage. Firstly it is for the most part a monologue and one that contains many loops and repetitions. How do you learn it and remember where you are in the text? Secondly Beckett’s stage directions dominate the text and intersect between each line. How do you absorb and interpret the dual scores of language and action? Thirdly in this production the design calls for the monologue to be shown on TV screens above the live action. It feels like Sarah has the additional job of making this work for film as well as for the stage – although she advises the company to ignore the camera rather than see it as another audience to play to.

MY OBSERVATION OF THE DIRECTOR’S PROCESS

Sarah has chosen to emphasise the many stage directions on the page. In the blown up copy of the script she has had the stage directions put in bold. This makes me wonder which will be learnt first the words or the movements but the answer is neither. Sarah gives the first couple of days over to pure exploration. Background research on Beckett and the play itself is presented by Atri Banerjee the Assistant Director. Then there’s talk of each of the two character’s background in a good level of detail but also their relationship. The time period and setting of the piece is initially left open but even this is selected and named on day 2. Almost all of this backstory won’t ever be revealed to the audience but it gives the actors something to wriggle their toes around in – some ground to inhabit, maybe something to occupy questions that might detract from their focus or to satisfy their usual method. Most interesting to me it keeps the characters in this abstract piece real and human with everyday situations and feelings to relate to. They talk about class, what attracts you to someone, what happens in long term relationships, why people stay together. This investigation of human conditions appeals to my generalist background and the empathy and communication of it is why I want to be in the theatre.

Once all these things have been chewed on Sarah is keen physicalise them – a seeming contradiction for a play in which people don’t or can’t move around very much. But I can see that this process seeks to engage the whole body and stop these mammoth speeches being barren mountains to climb. The actors improvise meeting at a dance and through an imagined evening of dancing and drinking we see how their characters relate and the relationship they once had. It’s beautiful to watch and means their emotional and physical separation in the piece is immediately more poignant.

On the following day the ritual props called for by the writer are placed around the room so that in order to handle them the actor has to traverse the space. This separates out each moment. A lot of time is given to each exercise and there seems to be no panic about getting to the text. Sarah has divided the text (inspired by Beckett’s journals) into sections to find the feel and rhythm of each – both to make an imprint of each part and to find the musicality of the whole. After each section has been explored in movement the text is discussed with her asking after every line – what does that refer to? What is that about? It seems over rigorous but it draws out meaning that can be played into each line to enable what is often a fractured text to be more recognisable to an audience. It also means that the texture of the lines make distinctive layers – even when the same words repeat.

After the physical and verbal interrogation of each section the actors then learn it. Drilling the text and actions at the end of the day before moving on.

MY THOUGHTS AFTER WEEK 1 AS A ‘RE-EMERGING’ DIRECTOR

I don’t have much recent experience to compare to but it strikes me that this is an extremely considered process. A lot of conceptual thinking has gone into the vision and design. The artistic craft and ambition is clearly apparent. I can see that this is what will make the production great. To me it is at once a familiar experience – I feel on solid ground and at the same time a shocking realisation like waking up to an alarm. From my training and experience I do know some of these approaches and processes and remembering that is validating – and in another way I am astounded by how buried my experience has become. I have made abstract the ability to do this and missed the slow erosion of my confidence that has been going on. I have become over-awed by the thought of working on ‘well-made plays’ or working with ‘serious’ actors – imagining that they might find ideas of text exploration or movement patronising, silly or indulgent. I realise now that my identity as a theatre maker has become over-adapted to my desk and perceived scarcity of resources.

Pragmatically resources do matter and I’m frightened that the way the funding landscape is changing will eradicate full production processes of writer/director driven work like this. I also know that scarcity can be the mother of invention and survival creates new forms. But the trap has not been the scarcity of possible production resources but the scarcity of my creative identity. The self-permission to take your own artistry seriously, develop a vision, employ a craft, trust your instincts and work from a place of experience and confidence – which when ‘re-emerging’, and probably always, means being bold, owning your situation, finding out by doing and bringing your whole humanity to bare.

I’m learning a lot about directing – but I’m also learning a lot about myself.

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