Conventional Wisdom
I've been doing some more thinking on The Naked Theatre concept, and today I'd like to explore a few of the conventions we hold dear in this business. Some are creative, some are quite business-oriented, but all are just "what we do," the standard operating procedures for life in the theatre. The question I ask first is "why." Why are we doing these things these ways? Is it the best way, the only way, or is the way others have chosen and we have followed? The question I ask second, to quote Peggy Lee - "Is that all there is?"
Read-throughs: Why do we read-through the script at the first rehearsal? Is it to give everyone a chance to find out what the play is about? Is it a chance for the director and others to hear the script read aloud? Is it merely insufferable curiosity on the part of the actors to find out what happens in the play they are doing? Could the actors read-through their scripts before the first rehearsal, on their own time? What effect would this have?
Learning lines: Actors have a lot of trouble doing this, and they seldom, if ever, wind up letter perfect, much to the consternation of playwrights. There are a plethora of ways to learn lines, but is there one method that will actually work? Is the work ethic of an actor and the effort they invest in learning lines more important than any particular methodolgy they employ? Does the emphasis on learning lines leave too little room for any actual "acting" after the lines are down?
Set Decoration: All sets are built with a certain degree of verisimilitude in mind. Verisimilitude is the "likeness to life" of a particular set - is it natural or abstract, and to what degree? Too often in the theatre we strive for utter "realism," something as close to real life as possible (the prevalence of realism over a number of other very worth "isms" is the topic for another post). If we are going for realism though, why do we allow ourselves to utilize conventions that call attention to the frankly "staged" nature of the play? From papier-mache props to sets with no roofs to masonite floors painted to look like oak boards and plywood flats painted to look like mountain views we constantly flount our theatricality in the audience's face: we are a play, and no matter how "real" you and I think it is, it will remain a play until it is over, when it will be nothing. Show we allow this hybridization of the real and the unreal? Should realism be as utterly real as possible, or does a play stop being a play when there is nothing left to the audiences' willing suspension of disbelief? Is it a cop-out to put a light switch on the wall that does not actually flick up and and down? Is it a cop-out to put a light switch on the wall that does flip up and down but is not actually connected to any of the fixtures providing light onstage?
More to follow, as the Naked Theatre odessey continues.
Read-throughs: Why do we read-through the script at the first rehearsal? Is it to give everyone a chance to find out what the play is about? Is it a chance for the director and others to hear the script read aloud? Is it merely insufferable curiosity on the part of the actors to find out what happens in the play they are doing? Could the actors read-through their scripts before the first rehearsal, on their own time? What effect would this have?
Learning lines: Actors have a lot of trouble doing this, and they seldom, if ever, wind up letter perfect, much to the consternation of playwrights. There are a plethora of ways to learn lines, but is there one method that will actually work? Is the work ethic of an actor and the effort they invest in learning lines more important than any particular methodolgy they employ? Does the emphasis on learning lines leave too little room for any actual "acting" after the lines are down?
Set Decoration: All sets are built with a certain degree of verisimilitude in mind. Verisimilitude is the "likeness to life" of a particular set - is it natural or abstract, and to what degree? Too often in the theatre we strive for utter "realism," something as close to real life as possible (the prevalence of realism over a number of other very worth "isms" is the topic for another post). If we are going for realism though, why do we allow ourselves to utilize conventions that call attention to the frankly "staged" nature of the play? From papier-mache props to sets with no roofs to masonite floors painted to look like oak boards and plywood flats painted to look like mountain views we constantly flount our theatricality in the audience's face: we are a play, and no matter how "real" you and I think it is, it will remain a play until it is over, when it will be nothing. Show we allow this hybridization of the real and the unreal? Should realism be as utterly real as possible, or does a play stop being a play when there is nothing left to the audiences' willing suspension of disbelief? Is it a cop-out to put a light switch on the wall that does not actually flick up and and down? Is it a cop-out to put a light switch on the wall that does flip up and down but is not actually connected to any of the fixtures providing light onstage?
More to follow, as the Naked Theatre odessey continues.
Comments
That being said I have started holding a reading a month beofre rehearsals start so that the artists have a month to think about the direction the show is going to take. This kind of process seems to deepen their understanding and when rehearsals start we end up well ahead of the game.
It would also give them a focus for learning lines. That plus a very precise stage manager should keep the text in place.