If our unconscious mind influences our personality and behavior—which it does, many psychologists would argue—then it stands to reason the same is true for stage and screen characters. In real life, of course, our unconscious, largely shaped by early childhood experiences, is, well, unconscious. Through psychoanalysis or psychotherapy, we can contact it.
But we don't need a shrink to uncover the psyches of the characters we play; a working knowledge of psychology can help us understand who they are and why they do what they do. Furthermore, it's up to us as actors to know more about our characters than they do about themselves. The more profound the backstory you create for them, the more complex and interesting they will be.
For a historical overview of psychoanalysis and psychotherapy and their uses in creating believable, deeply human theatrical characters, check out Robert Blumenfeld's Tools and Techniques for Character Interpretation: A Handbook of Psychology for Actors, Writers, and Directors (Limelight Editions, 2006). Blumenfeld is a New York actor (he created the role of the Marquess of Queensberry in Gross Indecency: The Three Trials of Oscar Wilde), writer, and dialect coach. If you've been in psychotherapy, you know how challenging the process can be, so "psychoanalyzing" your characters may sound difficult, but Blumenfeld writes in his introduction that literary characters are "crystallizations and distillations of behavior, and consequently easier to analyze and understand than most real, living, complicated people." Blumenfeld also writes, however, that before you can understand a character, you need to understand yourself.
Psychoanalytical techniques can be used for any type of character you may play, whether from Shakespeare, Chekhov, or Beckett, says Blumenfeld on the phone. "Everything in a role has to be psychologically justified. And the techniques apply across the board to every century, every play, every character.... When you read a play, you have to ask Who am I? Why am I doing what I'm doing? What do I want?" Probing your character's background can provide those answers.
Blumenfeld's book goes into detail about much more than merely creating a psychological backstory for your character. He discusses various theories, developed by every important player in the field from Freud and Jung to Carl Rogers and Fritz Perls, about human behavior—so-called normal, neurotic, and psychotic—and how to apply those theories to developing a character. An understanding of theory allows you to create justified, consistent, and authentic motivation and behavior. For example, Blumenfeld writes, "If you have to play a murderer, look no farther than [the] ancient, repressed childhood desires"—illustrated by Freud using Sophocles' Oedipus the King—"which arise from the aggressive drive and are directed at anyone who thwarts the child's desires."
Or, continuing with Freud's theories: Malvolio in Twelfth Night might have anal-retentive characteristics. Or, asks Blumenfeld, why did Yelena in Uncle Vanya marry the professor? Perhaps because of unconscious narcissistic tendencies.
Jung posited psychological "types." Maybe, suggests Blumenfeld, Judge Brack in Hedda Gabler is an extraverted sensation type—the kind of person who can be both practical and dangerously thrill-seeking. Strindberg's Miss Julie might be an extraverted feeling type. If you can figure out what Jungian type your character is, you can come up with all sorts of behavior—and justification for that behavior—leading to a psychologically convincing human being.
Since most actors haven't made a serious study of psychology, this may be a field they're waiting to discover. I phoned Doug Warhit, a Los Angeles acting teacher, psychotherapist, and former actor, for his views on the connection between psychology and acting. Warhit became a psychotherapist to help actors conquer the self-defeating issues that prevent some from succeeding in the business. He doesn't bring psychology into his classroom work—too many acting classes have a reputation for psychobabble, he says—but rather teaches Stanislavsky filtered through Strasberg, Adler, and Meisner. But he recommends that actors read Desk Reference to the Diagnostic Criteria From DSM-IV-TR, published by the American Psychiatric Association. A reference book for professionals in the mental health field, it's full of descriptions of the psychological traits that characterize every condition from obsessive-compulsive personality disorder to paranoia. "Actors tend to work intuitively," says Warhit. "With this [book], you can fantasize about qualities. You can create a character with specific criteria that you can internalize, so you know what it's like to be inside that character." Blumenfeld's book also has a section on "Psychological Terms and Topics."
Like Blumenfeld, Warhit encourages actors to explore a character's backstory from early childhood. "Let's say Tom Cruise's character in Top Gun," he suggests. "Is he aggressive to the point of personality disorder? Obsessed with winning? Risk-taking? What from his prior circumstances would lead him to this?" There are also questions Cruise might have asked himself as the character: "Was my dad a real risk-taker? Or was he wimpy, so I decided to do something extremely different?" In The Great Santini, Robert Duvall's character was "dominant, controlling, insecure, manipulative, intimidating, abusive," as Warhit puts it. Being a consummate actor, Duvall surely asked himself what forces shaped that military dad. And the answers to questions like these can motivate an entire performance. "You want to use the psychology of the character to get so immersed in the given circumstances that you're lost in there—in a good way," says Warhit.
"Look at the emotional age of the character," he adds. "Most characters in the bodies of adults are in some way children. If you can figure out the emotional age of the character, that can be a key.... The most interesting characters are those who are immature, selfish, needy, greedy...looking for an identity. They think if they get something, they'll have what they didn't get in the past." Psychologists from Freud on have had lots to say about the child within.
Warhit also suggests that, time permitting, you use psychological concepts to examine the other characters in a scene: "What do the others have that pushes my buttons or entices me toward them? Do they remind [my character] of someone from the past, perhaps a parent?"
Aside from reading about psychology, Warhit recommends taking an analytical approach to people you meet in order to expand your tool kit of primary motivations. "When you meet interesting people, ask why they are the way they are: 'You seem very happy. Is that from your parents, is it intuitive—how did you get that way?'" Warhit explains. "Actors tend to be self-involved. Take the attention off yourself and see how much the world has to offer."
I asked Blumenfeld which psychological concepts, from more than a century's worth of theories, are most useful for the actor in creating a character. He notes three:
Freud's theory of the Oedipus complex, he says, is helpful in determining a character's relationships. Also important is the concept of ambivalence, described by various psychologists and exemplified by Brutus in Julius Caesar. "All actors have to do is find the ambivalence within themselves, and then play those parts of themselves no matter how unwilling they are to admit the side they don't acknowledge," Blumenfeld explains. Finally, defense mechanisms: "All characters try to manipulate situations and defend themselves—and how do they do that? Sometimes it helps to look at the mechanisms themselves." Anna Freud broke down the concept to describe the different types of defense mechanisms.
I also asked Blumenfeld how to avoid intellectualizing when using psychological techniques like these. As mentioned above, the key is that you, the actor, must know more about your characters than they do. "You have to make a commitment to do what the character does, and you absorb and assimilate the information," he says. The "information" is everything you've accumulated about your character's background leading to his or her motivations, needs, and traits. When you're ready to act, as with everything else about the craft, you "forget" all that and live in the moment, trusting that your understanding of who you are—a mix of your own deepest self and your fictional character's complex and multifaceted self—will carry you through.
Have you ever performed on stage or screen under excruciating physical circumstances? If so, I'd like to interview you for The Craft. Please contact jeanschiff@earthlink.net.
