The whole group was following and mirroring the tall actress as she imitated a seal. Or was it a bird? It definitely flapped short wings of sorts, that much I knew. But it was also somewhat prehistoric, surely? Well at least in my mirror interpretation of it as I followed the group… This was to be the moment when I caught my wife’s horrified gaze, for the first of many times during our seven weeks Shakespeare acting workshop.
By the way, I wholly take the blame for thinking this would be a nice way to spend our Saturday evenings, I have odd ideas sometimes, it seems.
My wife had started out tremendously excited about this whole workshop thing, she thought it a thrilling idea. Something unexpected and romantic. She had done a tiny bit of acting at film school before and she remembered it as loads of fun, so she was very much looking forward to this. I had gently tried to warn her, without dampening her enthusiasm, that theatre was quite different from film acting, and that we might do the odd weird exercise…. But I was far from imagining that we would spend almost two third of our time across the entire workshop doing only abstract and conceptual exercises like being wind or staring at each other in the white of the eye.
At some point that day we had to run to a chair, grab it and lift it above our heads while screaming. This should have been the easiest thing for my wife in the context, but somehow she froze. She just walked to that sorry chair and stared at it as if it was a decomposing carcass.
Now, I had gone just before, and thanks to my extensive experience (Four years as an actor) I knew that in these situations it’s much better to smash one’s dignity wholly and fully straight off the bat. So, like a Meisner actor, I had used my frustration and uttered the mother of all primal screams to the delight of the organisers. But somehow the task proved a bit too much for my wife. When she finally managed, her mouth formed a U shape and what came out was more akin to a grunt of pain rather than a scream. Either way, she was off the hook. Well, until the next exercise that is which was set to be exactly two minutes later.
Out of the three hours of that first day, we spent about 2 and a half hours doing these sorts of things. We were baffled. We only had seven sessions before an actual performance, and I already felt like we didn’t have enough time to put something decent together. In my opinion, if you run any workshop, you must balance fun and work, otherwise people phase out. You can’t teach people piano if you drain all their enjoyment and don’t let them play the piano… But these guys had other ideas, and so it went on. Trust exercises. Exaggerated facial expressions. Listening exercises, clapping our hands in a circle and so on so forth.
On the way home after the first workshop, my wife said something heart-breaking like ‘It’s interesting, I would have never thought acting was actually such a boring job’. If that’s not a terrible failure for the workshop organisers, I don’t know what is.
She summed up the acting profession rather well though, when she said ‘So you basically just spend your days learning text and doing weird stuff.’ Yup. Pretty much.
I tried to explain to her that in truth there was plenty of fun to be had, but that the organisers were messing this up. Actually, we were so frustrated that we decided to be brave and asked to speak to the manager—I mean the organisers. No, no, they swore, we wouldn’t be doing that many exercises anymore, it would be buckets of fun. Besides they needed for us to commit because they were about to release the exciting news of which play we were about to be cast in.
I was puzzled. Even when I was in drama school surrounded by professional actors, we would almost never perform a full play. Doing scenes was actually the only way to make sure everyone had something to put their teeth into. A play? There were 7 of us and just two guys. I tried to imagine what they would pick. I secretly hoped for an interesting play, like Othello, or Lear.
The choice was the Merchant of Venice… A choice that still mystifies me when I think of it. Besides, I couldn’t help but be disturbed by the text, which I find frankly anti-Semitic. I know there is an eternal debate around that play, but personally, I struggle to see how its ending is anything but anti-Semitic…
I was to play Bassanio, exactly the parts I used to want to play but don’t desire at all anymore. The prince, the lover; Okay, he has a bit of an edge, but frankly, I find him a bit flat and one dimensional. My wife, upon learning which play it was, had decided straight away that despite this being her very first acting experience, she was to do the main part. Clearly, it didn’t take her long to understand the name of the game!
Sadly for us, the next three workshops were at least half made of more exercises. I swear, the first time I actually ran one of my scenes in front of the organizers was just the day before the show, and I think the first time we did a full in situ run-through of the entire play is the session right before the performance itself.
And to say it was bad… It was a calamity. No one knew their lines or their cues, the last scene itself lasted for 20 minutes. I felt like a plank of wood standing there while everyone just forgot their lines for twenty long minutes. This damn last scene in the Merchant of Venice... What on earth were they thinking? I actually genuinely felt like yelling at a chair at that point. In fact, the Duke was played by one of the organisers and she was sitting on a chair so she was a tempting target. But Bassanio would never do this would he?
Perhaps that would have made that last scene more interesting though, because frankly, I could hear the grass growing outside between other actors’ lines. The ladies running the workshop started looking like deer in headlights after the first run-through and all by magic, exercises were all gone from the menu from that point on… But there was only one 3 hours rehearsal left. One 3-hour rehearsal to put together the Merchant of Venice. What could go wrong?
I suggested that we cut that infamous last scene to no avail. Besides, my dear wife had thought she could cheat her way out of learning some her lines because Portia has a book in her hands. So she had prepared all her text nicely tidied in her book… Only you could really tell, so in between the already never-ending back and forth between actors, you could see my wife quite visibly looking down and reading in her book! It was quite a sight. I think that’s when I truly let go of my expectations and started laughing about the whole thing.
Believe it or not, we still had an audience of almost 60 people to please on the night. And even with all the nonchalance in the world, I was getting a bit nervy. I was supposed to be the actor of the lot after-all, I couldn’t suck wholeheartedly. I hoped it would be just a bit. In my view there was really no chance for this to be anything but a complete car crash, and yet…
Life has a way to teach us sometimes. The play was almost faultless. There were a couple of forgotten lines… The three damn caskets that I had to address my monologue to weren’t there when I had to enter the stage (!) and I was wearing some absurd heartthrob costume with an open shirt and a thick gold chain… But apart from this, it was about as miraculous as it can get.
This ragtag bunch, who barely knew their lines just one hour before, managed to give a decent and intelligible rendition of the Merchant. I’m not going to say it was good as that would be a lie, but all things considered, it was a bloody triumph.
And this really hit me.
I suddenly missed the old days a bit, I felt very melancholic and emotional. Despite the entire absurdity of the workshop, the lack of professionalism, everything… Somehow, something that you only find in theatre had happened. The group had bonded over the performance and sort of pulled in together, feeding from each others’ energies, to deliver the best of their potential. Somehow this small group of amateurs had realised a feat that I’ve rarely seen in my career: to give a premiere that is better than any of the rehearsals before. Alright, granted there were only two rehearsals, but still, you get my point.
I was also reminded how there’s nothing like the adrenaline from acting... It’s truly addictive and unique, you can’t understand it if you haven’t experienced it. It’s like reading but embodied. Like living another person’s life in unison with a group. Being nothing but an instrument, a catalyst, having the world truly stop outside of you for a couple of hours. It’s quite liberating in some way.
I was basically high on acting... Getting a whiff of an old drug that I had been addicted to a long time ago but had forgotten.
When I finished the play that night, it took me several long hours to ‘come down’. The level of emotional and sensory overload was too much. I remembered a long gone life of being on the road, and rehearsing and being only amongst actors at all times. It’s true that as a director you also work with actors, but in reality, you barely see them. At least on film. You share some extraordinary moments, but you don’t truly have time to be part of the crew so to speak. I miss being an actor, well at least some of it.
I must also say that I was shocked at how relaxed and confident my wife was on stage. I think she was born to be an actor, or maybe a politician. She definitely has that guile and drive in her.
Interestingly, the whole workshop experience also made me reflect on the writing life somehow. I think it’s quite easy for writers to get stuck in an uninspiring routine sometimes. It often happens to me to start feeling barren because I lost myself in the artificial worlds and forgot to live. Writing, before applying seats of pants to a chair, is half about living, but it’s so easy to lose sight of this.
This was a good reminder that we must never forget to keep living and do things that we’re passionate about other than just writing. For that alone, I’m glad I participated in the workshop.
And to be honest, it was also very cute to see my wife do this for the first time. There is definitely a potential diva in there, but also a potential great actress. She really enjoyed it. I think she would do it it again if given the opportunity… If playing the main part of course.
What about you? Did you ever have an experience as an actor? Do you also sometimes forget to live? Let me know in the comments!
I enjoyed this story Remy and it brought back memories of similar disorganised and unprofessional workshops. I also really enjoy how you portray your wife and your relationship in this story and your brilliant health spa story.
I've done a bit of acting on stage and film. Very different mediums as you say. But that high, oh that high, of performance and the almost magical connection that happens with your fellow actors and audience. Very addictive. After a few years of largely retreating from the world due to various life circumstances I have just started to tip toe back into social situations. Have gone along to a local open mic night for original "Spoken Word." It's been scary but a lot of fun. Plus it combines my love of writing and the adrenaline of performance. 😊
About three decades ago, a friend went to film school and convinced me to be part of his graduation project. I played a guy who would do "just one drug deal" to make some quick cash. I still have it on a VCR tape somewhere for all the good that will do me.