The game was
Exits and Entrances. About two years into my study with Viola, I had a breakthrough.
We met every
Tuesday afternoon at the El Centro Theater, a small 99 seat equity waiver house
just off Melrose. The theater was set up with a set with several doors and
curtains leading off stage at floor level. The audience was raked.
“Count off
in two’s!” Viola split the group into two teams.
“When an
actor enters the scene or exits the scene” Viola announced, “he must enter with
energy and presence and exit the same way. In this game we will make exits and
entrances the focus. The problem will be to capture everyone’s attention
whenever you leave the stage or enter.”
We all
nodded. Of course every actor must make the most of his entrance or exit.
“Pick a
where with plenty of exits and entrances - A bus station, a department store, or
some public place.” She said. “Then you will make as many entrances and find as
many ways to make an exit as possible while playing. If you exit the scene
without everyone’s full attention, we in the audience will yell ‘Come back!’ and you will have to remain
in the scene until you find a way off. Once you are off, you must find a way to
enter the scene and get the attention of all the onstage players. If you enter
and don’t have everyone’s attention, we will call out ‘Go Back!’”
She smiled. “That’s
it. Make as many entrances and exits as you can.”
We counted
off. I was a two. (Thank god!) This gave me a chance to see what this whole
thing was all about. Let others go first, that way I’ll know what to do.
My fear of doing it wrong and wanting to be ‘good’ at it was still a major
issue with me. The first team of eight players huddled together and decided on
their ‘where’. Our team did the same.
Team One
went first. They did a restaurant kitchen. Everyone started on stage. The scene
started well enough, but it soon got very frantic and loud. Waiters burst in
complaining about customers. Cooks threw temper tantrums and stormed off. Because everyone was busy creating their drama
to get off and on it became a free –for-all. Some players made it on and off,
and some did not.
“Give and Take!” Viola shouted.
Cooks were
screaming at waiters and managers were yelling to get orders out. Customers
burst in complaining of bad service or to congratulate the chef. It was a loud
and often fractured scene. There was lots of urgency to get on and off and that
put people in their heads.
Viola would
holler. “No Urgency!”
We would
roar with laughter when we had to call “Go
Back!” or “Come Back!” to those
poor players who could not grab everyone’s attention. I sat next to Viola and laughed along with her
as she coached.
The scene continued
and the noise and action escalated. It became harder and harder to get everyone
onstage to notice each exit and entrance. When someone did, it was super
theatrical and hilarious. But it was still funny when they couldn’t make it and
had to try again.
“One Minute!” Viola called.
Soon the
scene came to an end. She got up and walked out onto the playing area.
“I have a question. Is it possible to
make an entrance or exit without screaming or shouting?”
Silence. We
looked at each other. “Of course” I thought to myself. “It can’t all be yelling
or shouting.”
“Did your
entrances and exits come out of the ongoing action or did you have to invent
ways to come on and get off?”
It was
apparent that most everyone on team one had to create extra drama and when they
tried an exit or entrance; they stopped paying attention to the whole and only
involved themselves in their own situation. The franticness came out of needing
to create a reason to get on or off for yourself often without being involved
in the whole scene. It was obvious that each player was out for him or herself
and it became loud and messy. There was no real listening. It became clear that
there was little give and take.
“Even in the
midst of lots of action, you have be a PART OF THE WHOLE! Can stillness TAKE? Or does it always have to be ya da
de da! A bunch of yelling?”
When you see
amateur improv it looks a lot like that. Everyone is trying to say to the
audience, “Look at me! My idea is funnier! “, Or “I have to make what’s going
on about me.” Thankfully most improv training deals with this by asking that
you make your partner look good and that takes the focus away from the ‘me, me,
me!’ syndrome. But when there are more than one or two other players onstage,
it becomes harder.
“Ok, the Twos,
now.” Viola sat down.
Our team decided that we would be people in a medieval town square with a market. We could be merchants, peasants, knights – a whole host of cool characters.
As usual, my
mind was racing with ideas on who could I be, and what would I do to get myself
on and off. I joined the group and started as a hide vendor. I paraded up and
down and tried to interest folks in my pelts. Someone called out that the King
was coming. Several of us tried to run off to see. “Come back!”
I tried getting sick from some bad water and
hurrying off to vomit. “Come back!” I
came back on. I can’t remember clearly what everyone else was doing. I was so
in my head about what I had to
do, I stopped hearing and seeing anything other than my little scenarios. Every
time I didn’t make it, I got more and more urgent. Finally I sold a pelt and
went crazy with joy! Hysterically happy, I ran off stage. I made it.
Once off
stage, I tried coming back on with very little success. I stumbled back on
stage with an arrow in my back. “Go back!”
Then I tried piggybacking on someone else’s entrance – literally! I jumped on
his back and told him to bring me in wounded with an arrow. We both didn’t make
it. The scene continued. The Kind and Queen made it on and off. I was stuck
backstage. I tried to think what could I do or be to make an entrance.
Everything I tried resulted in “Go back!”
“One minute!”
Viola called.
I was so frustrated!
I simply gave up thinking about how to
get on stage. I was desperate to make it back on before the game was over. I decided that I would just jump out on the
stage from behind the curtain with no idea whatsoever. The only thing I thought
to do was to jump as far onto the stage as possible. I only had this last
chance and I was going onstage no matter what. I was going to make the biggest
entrance possible and I did not have a clue what to do after that. My mind was
a blank. I didn’t care what the hell Viola thought or what anyone thought. I
was just going to get on stage goddammit! No plan, no nothing. “What the hell?” I thought. “The game is over
anyway.”
I gathered
all my strength and sprang through the curtain in a huge leap. It was such a
big move that it stopped all action on the stage. I had gotten everyone’s
attention. Seeing this sudden attention on me I stood there a second. Then from
out of nowhere I boomed “HOW DARE YOU! How dare you not invite me to this
festival to greet the King! I, who protect this town with my MAGIC!”
Larry Dilg,
another actor in the class played a cowering villager and held up his hand to
offer an explanation. My hand shot out with a pointing finger and a look of vengeance.
He grabbed his throat and began to strangle. After a few beats, I released him.
The rest of the town was struck dumb. No one moved.
I cast a
last look around. “You have been warned! Cross me again and feel my wrath!!” I gathered up
my cape, which by now had appeared on my majestic shoulders. I crouched and sprang back behind the
curtain, gone in a puff of magic smoke! The room rang out with applause.
I had done
it. I made an entrance and exit that wrapped up the village scene in a
wonderfully theatrical way. I came out from behind the curtain and climbed
back into my seat near Viola, who set up the next game and had the first group
get up to set up a new where.
I felt good
having achieved the focus and was very relaxed and quiet in my mind. I felt
really alive and alert and in my own skin, for practically the first time since
I started taking class. It is hard to describe. I was not proud of myself or relieved or even
pleased to have succeeded. Nor did I look
to Viola for approval as I had always done before. Up until this moment, it was
very important to me that Viola see me as having done well. I felt at once calm and thrilled in the same
moment. I just sat there taking in the
room and waiting to resume.
Viola was
busy with her notes. She was thumbing through the book and making some
notations in it, every once in a while glancing over at me. I was sitting a few
seats away from her. I smiled at her.
She leaned over to say something to me and then thought better of it and went
back to her notes.
She called
the class back and began to coach the next game. I can’t remember what it was,
but I do remember her glancing at me a few times during it. Finally she leaned
over and beckoned me to lean in to her. I leaned over and she said very
matter-of-factly, almost off-handedly, “you realize you had a breakthrough
there…”
“I know.” I
said just as casually.
But I knew at
a deep level something shifted.
She nodded,
satisfied with my answer and went on with the class. We never spoke of it
again.
I knew why
Viola struggled with even mentioning it to me. She was worried I would be
flattered by her noticing or seeing it as telling me ‘nice work’, putting me
back into my (up until then ) very heavy Approval / Disapproval mindset.
My
appearance as the wizard was a turning point. This was the beginning of my
coming into my own with the work, and my development as an actor.
Up until
that point, my work in one way or another was dependent on what other people,
especially Viola thought of me. I wanted desperately to be a good actor, a good
boy, a good teacher and a nice person and my effort to do anything in class was
motivated by that approval/disapproval syndrome and I didn’t even realize it.
Viola did,
but she was not about to tell me how to transcend it. She would tell me many
things, but never how to do something or praise me for good work in her
workshop. I occasionally had flashes good work but it was just a brief respite
from my constant prison of approval/disapproval. She would coach and patiently wait for it to
happen to me. And two years in, happen to me it did.
What
happened to me that day was this: I gave up the crutch of needing to have
something to ‘go with’ onstage - Of having to come on prepared in some way
(playwriting) and replaced it with nothing.
Viola was
still my teacher and I her student and I believe that day is where our real friendship
began. I became a seeker and fellow
player, no longer working for her approval, but for the sheer thrill of that
moment of receiving what you need in the space.
What I
realized then and from then on, was that stepping out into the unknown will
make you available to receive the gift of true spontaneity and you will receive
what you need in the moment. It will come to you in a flash! No fear, no pride,
nothing but the joy of discovery of the thing itself.
When I leapt
onto stage, it was not in defiance of failing. It was not with the expectation
of success. It was not to gain the respect of my teacher or fellow students. It
was to enter the unknown with confidence that something will happen without
having to bring it with me. What shows up in the space is the right thing, no
matter what it is.
Others have
said it in other ways. “The Universe will provide”, “Let go and let God.”
For me,
experiencing the gift of true improvisation by “letting the space support you”
is my clarion call.
Gary Schwartz - North Bend, WA