How timely, what with the summer Shakespeare season approaching, that Scott Kaiser, Oregon Shakespeare Festival acting coach, has come out with an eminently readable new book: Mastering Shakespeare: An Acting Class in Seven Scenes (Allworth Press). Constructed like a play set in an acting studio, it's both entertaining and instructive. Kaiser presents a Stanislavsky--based rehearsal method that he dubs "orchestration." Devised over years of teaching, this approach to on-your-feet script analysis demystifies Shakespeare and makes the acting of his plays seem downright accessible.
Kaiser defines orchestration as "the artistic process of selecting, arranging, and heightening your choices for each moment of your time onstage." He writes, "The process of orchestrating a major Shakespearean role is the same process [Georges] Seurat used to make a painting. You're applying small dots of color to a huge canvas. The dots are your acting choices for each moment, and the canvas is Shakespeare's play."
In a nutshell, here's Kaiser's method, which in this book he applies entirely to monologues (useful for preparing an audition piece) as opposed to dialogue. Later on, we'll discuss the why of orchestration, and how it can generate spontaneity.
First, divide your speech into measures--that is, "a parcel of text which contains a single acting choice"--basically, a beat. In the book's examples, a single line usually breaks down into several measures. Even a syllable can comprise a measure: "O!"
Then, for each successive measure, pick one of the following four basic tools (as you become more adept, you'll layer on several tools simultaneously) to bring that measure to vibrant life:
1. A focal point. That is, a listener/recipient to whom you're directing that measure: a scene partner, the audience, your inner self.
2. A sensorial mental image to correspond to the words of the text. As we all know, Shakespeare is rife with images: "Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds...."
3. Subtext. But wait: What about common belief that there is no subtext in Shakespeare, that the Bard lays it all out for you in the text? "That's nonsense," Kaiser insists in a phone conversation. "For example, Iago [in Othello] is not speaking what he's thinking, except when he talks to the audience. Portia [in Merchant of Venice] wants to say how much she loves and wants to marry this man, but she can't, so therefore there's subtext. I could name many more instances where it's clear that what the character is saying and thinking are two different things."
4. An action in pursuit of your objective, whether purely physical or physical-psychological (psychophysical). Remember to always conceptualize actions as active and playable verbs: to challenge, to seduce, to incite, etc. If you misunderstand the concept of actions, and choose instead qualities (such as, writes Kaiser, "to be courageous"), you'll be playing an attitude, not performing an action, and that's a bad thing. "Actions reveal character," Kaiser reminds us, adding a helpful hint: "[D]irectors almost never speak in acting terms.... You must learn to translate, and instantly translate, director-speak into acting terms, into verbs."
How do objectives, those linchpins of Stanislavsky training, fit into Kaiser's orchestration plan? Naturally you need to choose your character's intentions for speech, scene, and play, as well as his/her superobjective (overriding objective in life). But here's where Shakespeare makes it easy. Explains Kaiser, "Shakespeare lays out given circumstances, objectives, and obstacles right there on the page. He gives you all the necessary backstory to fill all of Stanislavsky's principles. Even servants and minor characters will tell you their intentions." He compares Shakespeare to Chekhov: "In Chekhov, you're thinking, 'What does she want? Oh, I see, she's in love with him.'" In Shakespeare, no such sleuthing is usually necessary.
I ask Kaiser how he encourages his actors to make those objectives real for themselves. He replies, "What you the actor don't know--and this is the most important part of the orchestration--is: What are the ways I'm going to go about getting what I want?" Actions, he elaborates, are the key. For example, Petruchio [in The Taming of the Shrew] wants to win Kate's love in the wooing scene, and there are literally millions of ways of achieving that objective. How you go about choosing your actions is what makes your Petruchio real and unique.
So, how do you choose the right tool or tools for each measure? By experimenting in rehearsal and finding out what works best for the play.
If all this sounds very cut and dried, Kaiser promises it's really not. "This is one of those paradoxes that it takes awhile for actors to understand," he tells me. "Orchestration is a way of locking in variety. But within that, there's enormous flexibility. For example, if Petruchio chooses the action 'to charm' in [a measure of] the wooing scene with Katherine, there's still an enormous amount of spontaneity inside that: what [the actor playing] Katherine is giving back to you, what the audience is giving you. That moment will be different every single night, but it won't be mushy. Inside that one moment there's lots of room for talking and listening. If it's not orchestrated, it gets general." He adds, "Actors seem to think, 'The less specific, the more spontaneous I can be.'" Not true. In fact, writes Kaiser, "Don't trust [emotion] ... don't rely on it.... Instead, build your performance upon the bedrock of a carefully orchestrated score. It will be there for you when you need it."
So, I ask, if you choose a particular tool for a particular measure, are you married to that for the run of the play? Yes, says Kaiser. "In rehearsal, it's trial and error. If 'to charm' seems wrong at the moment, you change it. But in performance, you're restricted by the rules of the business. There's less room for spontaneity. The stage manager is entrusted to maintain your orchestration." Still, spontaneity, he says, does exist. It's like downhill skiing, he writes: The gates are fixed, but "you never go down the hill the same way twice."
Nevertheless, doesn't all this measure-by-measure analysis inhibit creativity? Kaiser writes that there's always the danger of becoming so analytical that you fail to act. But, he says, you must remember that creating this score is not the end of the process; rather, it's the beginning. Orchestration is meant to inspire you, to help you personalize, to help you be specific. Indeed rather than memorizing your lines, he writes, "you should be up on your feet, working, through trial and error, to create a sequence which inspires text."
Here's another thing: Orchestration should aid, not hinder, your search for your most authentic and powerful impulses. Kaiser has found that some actors understand intellectually how to orchestrate--can put it down beautifully on paper--but have trouble playing it. The key is deep commitment along with the specificity that you've orchestrated. "Specificity without commitment is useless," Kaiser told me. He writes, "This is part of Shakespeare's genius: he puts it all into the text for you--the character's head, heart, guts, and groin ... you have to have the courage .. to actually play what he's given you!" About having, for example, the courage to play Macbeth, he writes, "To orchestrate this speech ['Is this a dagger which I see before me?'] ... you have to tap into impulses from the dark side of your nature ... [your] most unspeakable thoughts ... Or the speech will ring hollow, and the play will falter." I ask Kaiser how he helps actors go the distance. "Put yourself in the mind of those American soldiers who put hoods on the Iraqi prisoners, piled them up, and took photos," he responds. "If you're not willing to go there, you can't play Macbeth."
He remarks that actors tend to lean on a particular favorite tool that they use over and over. But with Shakespeare, the bigger the role, the greater variety of tools you'll need. And you'll strengthen your craft by playing those roles. It's no accident, he points out, that Royal Shakespeare Company veterans such as Ian McKellen, Patrick Stewart, and Kenneth Branagh are so versatile.
Does orchestration work for dialogue as well as monologue? Yes, writes Kaiser: "[Y]ou must be truly talking and listening to the other people onstage, as well as executing your own orchestration; not only acting but reacting to what your scene partners are doing from moment to moment."
I've vastly oversimplified the concept of orchestration, of course, but check it out. Kaiser illuminates the whole art of acting Shakespeare, from clown to king, in a way that's sure to appeal to many heretofore intimidated American actors.
"Are there any playwrights or types of performance that these techniques wouldn't work for?" I ask. Whether TV, commercial, or film, and whether classical or contemporary plays, Kaiser says this method will solve your acting problems. BSW