MANY PEOPLE think that the stage is the actor’s chief medium, and in many ways it is. At the acting school and for the first few years after he joins the profession, he will try and concentrate on the theatre. There are several reasons for this. In the first place his acting is not polished enough to be seen by a large audience or in a big London theatre, and he will be forced to work in some provincial repertory company. The pay here will be very small and at first the parts will only be a few lines. A good deal of his time will be spent in acting as assistant stage manager, in helping the designer and wielding a paint brush, and doing any odd jobs which are too humble to be done by any else. If he is a wise young man, he will do these jobs willingly and as efficiently as he can. One cannot know too much about the practical side of the theatre, whether one is going to be an actor, a writer, or a director. The theatre is, in fact, a very practical place and one never knows when some piece of knowledge will come in handy. But there is another important reason why the actor should work in repertory, and that is that the contacts he makes will stand him in good stead later on. The directors, only a few years older than himself, may later on be directing in an important theatre, or even in the West End, and it is amazing how young men (or women who have done a small job well and willingly are remembered. (This, of course, applies in all walks of life. But an actor who inevitably goes from job to job throughout his career relies much more on his personal reputation than most people.)
From a purely acting point of view, these first years in rep. are invaluable because the actor is playing to a live audience night after night. He can learn to “play to the audience”, as we say, sense its mood and experience the wonderful communication which flows to and fro across the footlights. Sometimes the audience will be big and responsive; sometimes it will be small and unresponsive. Sometimes it will be quiet and need drawing out of itself; sometimes it will need dampening down. And by playing night after night, and learning how to treat each kind of audience, the young actor or actress gradually becomes more polished in his craft. He can acquire the wonderful gift of timing, which is the mark of all good actors. Another point is that he will be playing in dozens of different plays. Dramas, comedies, farces, costume pieces, thrillers and even pantomimes and musicals. He may even have to learn to dance and sing. In Elizabethan times, actors were very versatile; they could not only act, sing and dance, but could also do acrobatic tricks, juggle, fence and conjure. In modern times, performers have tended to specialize, possibly because most people can only reach a high standard in one or two fields. But with the changing taste of the Theatre, actors again have to acquire a whole range of skills. They can nearly all fences, and a good many can dance and sing. As they will probably appear in films sooner or later they also have to learn to drive cars and lorries, ride on horseback and swim. A few learn foreign languages so that they can act abroad or take parts as foreigners.
These first few years in an actor’s life are very hard indeed, and he will have little time for rest, sleep or outside interests. Good health and strength, apart from acting ability, are absolutely vital to an actor. Very rarely will he have long periods of rest, except when he is out of work and then he will be occupied in the search for work.
Sooner or later the actor decides he must break out of rep. and come to London to seek his fortune and make a name for him self. Perhaps he hopes to land a part in a long running West End play, or in a film, but the chances are that his first job will be in television. There are about twelve thousand professional actors in this country and only about a thousand to fifteen hundred are employed in the theatre at any one time. By far the bulk of their work is in television. Apart from the B.B.C, there are now fifteen independent companies, and they all do plays, drama documentaries and other programs using actors. I do not suppose that there is a day in the year when a hundred to a hundred and fifty programs are not in rehearsal.
How does an actor get into television? He may know a producer or director, either through having worked with him in the theatre, or because of meeting him at some social engagement. If he does not, then he reads the Radio Times and the TV Times and studies carefully what is going on. Then he writes to producers asking for an interview or audition and encloses a photograph. All actors must have large numbers of photographs because they send out dozens and only a few come back. Some directors will not reply. Only a few will reply quickly, and most will reply in a few weeks. This is not because they are lazy but because while they are rehearsing, they are away from their offices and it is only between productions that they can catch up with correspondence. Even when an actor gets an interview or an audition, the chances are that no work will follow immediately. This is hard but inevitable. There are so many actors for each part that the majority is bound to be disappointed. With actresses the position is much worse. Often what happens is that a director will remembers an actor’s face and, when a suitable part comes up, get in touch with him. Occasionally, of course, very occasionally, an actor walks into an office, reads a part, and is told he is just what the director is looking for. If this happens he should thank his lucky starts.
However, sooner or later, by luck or persistence, the young actor gets his first job in television. The fee is agreed with either him or his agent (if he has one), the contract is sent out and signed, and he receives a copy of the script, with the name of his own part underlined. What every actor does, of course, is to thumb through the script immediately to see how many lines he has got and whether he or she give him the chance to create a character. Actors do not mind a part being small if it is what they call “a part” this is, the character they are playing is not just a doctor or detective or railway guard, but a particular doctor, detective, or railway guard. If thee are one or two ”good lines” that is, witty or effective lines which give him the chance to shine, then the actor is delighted.
His next step, if he is a wise actor, is to study the whole script to understand what sort of play or documentary it is. He will not study it in the all round terms of the director, but will concentrate on the question of the style of acting required. Whether the script is modern or period, realist or poetic, or fantastic, he can spot at once. But each play has its own tone, its own atmosphere. If the subject of the play is new to the actor, he will spend a few days before rehearsals trying to learn something about it. If, for example, it takes place in a Turkish bath, then he will go to one, talk to the attendants, watch how they go about their job, watch the people taking baths to see how they behave. It is not enough, in fact, for the actor to understand only the character he is playing, he must understand to some extent the sort of world in which that character lives. At the same time, the actor will keep reading his part to become familiar with it. He will ask himself why the character behaves as he does, why he says what he does say. He will study what is known as the “character motivation”. It is quite probable that some things will puzzle him, even after study, and he will note them so that he can ask the director later on. If he can afford one, the actor should use a tape recorder and record himself acting the part. Often actors get together in small groups, read their parts, and criticize ech other. This is a very helpful arrangement. Like the writer when he is creating a part, the actor who is interpreting it must try to make every line, every movement, consistent. Whether the character is cold, hot, angry, resentful, jealous, surprised or contemptuous, he must still remain unmistakably the same person. A hundred characters may be angry, but each will be angry in his own way. Perhaps you have noticed how some people go red, others go white; some shout and others talk quietly; some remain frozen and others weave their arms about. The actor in studying the part must consider all the thousands of ways of portraying emotions and select those which are applicable to the part.
By the time the outside rehearsals start, the actor should know a good deal about the part, and the relationship between it and the other parts. But his ideas should still be flexible; he should be able to modify them and fit them into the director’s conception of the whole play. Sometimes it happens that an actor brings something out of a part which is immediately recognizable as true and exciting. This may have a great impact on the performances of the rest of the cast. They may realize that their own interpretations are conventional or unexciting. And immediately they must set to work to improve them.
When the moves are set and the actors have learned their roles, thee comes the business of polishing the production. Pieces of business are worked in to fit the words and movements together; more and more props are brought in by the A>S>M. so that the actors can get used to them. If the play is a period piece, for example, the actresses will wear long skirts to practise moving in them. The actors may wear swords or helmets.
As time goes on, the actors re left more and more to themselves as the director watches the action through a view finder to work out his shots. Occasionally he will ask an actor to vary a movement to improve a shot. He will ask him to note that a certain position is “critical”. This means that only a slight error will mask a fellow actor, so ruining the shot. The actor must make a mental note of any such instructions and not forget them even in the heat of his performance. It is this process which is one of the great difficulties of television acting. To show you what I mean, let me give an example. Suppose an actor has to make a long speech like this:
“ It’s not what you said that worries me, it,s what you did to her. You knew she was poor; you knew she had no means of defending herself… and yet you cheated her out of the small thing that was hers. The thing which by law and right and decency she was entitled to. You may think I,m stupid making a fuss about nothing. But I,m warning you –I,ve never been so upset in years. I’ll never forget this, and I,ll never forget you”.
In the theatre it is possible that the actor could recite this speech standing in one position, but on television he would probably have much more to think about. It might go like this:
It,s not what you said that Actor stands at the corner of the
Worries me, it,s what you table. Faces slightly left.
did to her.
You knew she was poor, Moves round table keeping clear
You knew she had no of chair. Actor is on Camera 2 -
Means of defending her must edge right slightly. Make
self… and yet you sure he is not masking second actor.
Cheated her out of the Turns to fire-place. Rests arm on
Small thing that was hers. Mantelpiece. Wait till other character
Comes up to him.
The thing which by law Turns and moves towards window.
And right and decency Makes sure that he keeps well to
She was entitled to. Left of cupboard.
You may think I,m stupid- Moves back to table. Slowly puts
Making a fuss about noth- left hand forwards towards scissors.
ing. But I,m warning you- Picks these up and moves forward
I,ve never been so upset in towards the other character. Makes
Years. I,ll never forget this, sure to keep well to left so that he
And I,ll never forget you. is not masked.
From this you can see that the actor has to do three things at once:
1) Speak the lines
2) Produce the necessary meaning and emotion
3) Keep control of his movements
If rehearsals go well, (1) and (2) should be taken over by his sub-conscious mind should be concentrating on his performance, that is, the business of producing emotion and meaning. He must also detach a small part of his mind to deal with sudden emergencies. A fellow actor may give a wring cue, fluff or forget his lines; a door may jam or perhaps a piece of furniture or a prop may not be in its exact position. When this happens the actor must, while carrying on with his performance, do what is necessary to put things right and carry on again.
But I have leapt ahead a little. By the time the outside rehearsals have finished the production is usually going fairly smoothly. Then it is moved into the studio. The early work-through, as I have already mentioned, are long and tedious for everyone, but especially for the actor. The director is not interested in his performance at this stage, being solely absorbed with the business of cameras, lights and all the technical aspects of the production. If he is wise, the actor will use the time to get the feel of the sets and the furniture. For instance, the chairs will be different to those he has been rehearsing with, as will the desks, tables and other items. They may be bigger, which means that thee will be less space for him to move round them. So he must practise moves to make sure that he can execute them smoothly and without bumping into anything. Often you see actors practising the simple business of sitting down into a chair and getting up again.
As the work-through goes on, the actor will be given instructions on his movements and positions. Some effects may not be coming over and he will be asked to emphasize them; others will appear overdone and he will be asked to modify them. All these instructions he must retain in his head – it is impossible to write them down. Sometimes, movements rehearsed carefully for a fortnight or more will look wring before the cameras, and he will have to change them or dispense with them altogether. But he must not let these last minute alterations upset him. He must realize that they will be necessary for the good of the show.
There still remains the question as to what is the basic nature of television acting. How does it vary, for example, from stage acting? The first thing, as you have no doubt realized already, is that the actor must work with great precision and produce his movements, time after time without any variation. On the stage, movements are varied night after night (within limits) and this does not matter.
The second thing, and a much more important one, is that the television camera is much closer to the actor than the theatre audience. He does not have to project himself across great distances. The camera can reach his most fleeting thought and the microphone can pick up the merest whisper. This means that the television performance must not only be on a different scale but it must be of a slightly different texture. It must be thought and felt as well as acted. Eyes and faces become much more important than they are in the theatre. Every living movement can be clothed with significance. Emotions can be seen in such detail that they must all be registered exactly. No rough and ready gestures to portray, for example, anger, hatred or despair, can be tolerated. Effects, which would look satisfactory at a distance, are shown up as crude and artificial by the cameras.
In view of these factors the television actor must therefore above all things be sincere. He must search his heart for the truth and reproduce it as faithfully as possible. To do this, and at the same time to respond to the one hundred technical demands of the medium, needs talent, training and long experience. Many people think that actors have an easy life. I hope that you can see that if they are to do their job properly then they must work very hard indee.
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