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Let’s Lose Those Scripts!

By Christina Hamlett 

Former actress/director Christina Hamlett is the author of 43 books and 190 plays.  For Pioneer, she and her writing partner Jamie Dare have penned three “Seusspeare” comedies as well as a contemporary script titled “Fandemonium.”  She is also a professional ghostwriter and a script consultant for stage and screen.  http://www.authorhamlett.com. 

When I landed my first leading role in a community theatre production, I was determined to make a stellar impression on the director by having all my lines memorized prior to the first rehearsal.  I was so confident, in fact, that I didn’t even take my script with me that day.  My expectation was that we’d all assemble on stage and just start acting.  Instead, we were shown to a conference room for what the director called “a table read.”

“Where’s your script?”  he asked.  “Did you forget it?”

I cheerfully tapped my forehead and informed him I knew the whole thing by heart.

“Maybe you know the words,” he told me, “but your heart has no clue what to do with them.”

More than a little embarrassed, I was nonetheless determined to show him how clever I was.

He began the rehearsal, though, not by starting on page 1, but by asking what the play’s inciting incident was, how it related to the central conflict, and how each of the five key plot points affected the characters’ orientation and perspectives.

Huh?

He further asked, “What did Daniel’s line at the top of page 47 reveal to you about his true feelings?”  “What was your first thought when the doorbell rang while the two of you were fighting?”  “Were you self-confident or bluffing at the top of act two?”  It was at that point I tried to sneak a peek at a fellow actor’s script, but was immediately called out.

Note to self:  The best memorization in the world won’t save you if you’re only focusing on lines and not the substance that actually drives them.

That said, there are a lot of directors who still:  (1) insist a script be fully committed to memory before rehearsals even start and (2) threaten, cajole and kvetch if actors aren’t off-book by a specific date.

In the first case, line-learning needs to be done in conjunction with blocking, movement and pacing, so as to facilitate mental associations.  Musicals, for example, meld singing and choreography from the get-go rather than rehearsing these components separately and then trying to stitch them together.  In the case of date-centric demands, humans of all ages are conditioned to fill up whatever time has been allocated to finish a task.  Why else would students who have three weeks to produce a term paper wait until the Sunday night before it’s due to start?  While there’s nothing wrong with incremental benchmarks (i.e., “pages 1 through 15 by Friday”), a single deadline for the entire script is often counterproductive and only adds stress to what is, for some, an already stressful experience.

What I Hear You Saying

This first technique is a throwback to college days when I was majoring in Communication Studies.  Specifically, whatever Person A says is interpreted and repeated back by Person B as a measure of how our respective frames of reference can sometimes color the intention of the original message.  It works well in two-person scenes where scripts are set aside after a read-through and participants then play back (in their own words) what the other person is trying to express.  Just as improv is a great tool for exploring different layers of a character, encouraging performers to actively listen to one another during a scene is more beneficial than teaching them only to listen for cue lines.

Word, Path, Secret

Once your actors have gone through their blocking and are starting to memorize lines, this exercise examines motivation and the character’s soul.  Each player stands in front of the rest of the cast and offers (1) a single word defining his/her character, (2) one sentence explaining the character’s quest in the story, and (3) a secret that no one else knows.  For example:

Othello:  (1) Fearsomeness.  (2) I’m trying to find out who I can trust.  (3) I hope no one discovers I’m really insecure.

Annie:  (1) Plucky.  (2) I want to find my parents.  (3) I’m a scrappy tomboy because my real name is Andy.

Jean Valjean:  (1) Honorable.  (2) I want to keep my promises to others.  (3) I took the rap for stealing bread because the real thief would have never survived prison.

In Step

Music of all kinds has a subliminal effect on our mood and, accordingly, on how we move.  Consider, for instance, that fast food eateries might have background sound akin to “Flight of the Bumblebee” so that customers will eat quickly and leave; upscale restaurants utilize classical music or mellow jazz so patrons can bask in a leisurely dining experience.

For this exercise, select a work of instrumental music such as a march, a waltz, ragtime, jazz, or country western.  Have cast members walk back and forth across the stage (in their own “lanes”) and allow the rhythm of that piece to dictate how fast or slow they move, their overall posture, and what they do with their arms and hands.  In rehearsal, play the background music which best correlates to a particular scene and which inspires cast members to be relaxed, agitated, melancholy, forceful, etc.  Even after the music is removed from the equation, actors will still “hear” it in their heads and recall the emotions it triggered.

Page-Turners

Holding a script in your hands is both a crutch and a security blanket.  As long as you’re relying on it, you don’t have to worry about flubbing your lines.  Unfortunately, it also inhibits your eye contact and restricts physical movement.

One director with whom I worked employed a creative approach of putting script pages on a music stand with casters.  The script was raised to a comfortable reading level and the stand was glided along by a helper who also ensured the pages got turned.  The actor struggling with memorization had only to glance over as needed but otherwise concentrate on perfecting body language.  The more comfortable he became with the latter, the less he referred to his “sliding teleprompter.”

Hands Free

Once an actor is off-book, there arises the question of what to do with his/her hands.  Rather than randomly waving them around or stuffing them into pockets, a good exercise is to have your actors put their hands behind their backs.  This temporary constraint then forces them to deliver the intentions of the scene with voice and facial expressions only.  This translates to a more compelling performance and, further, causes actors to subsequently make their movements more thoughtful and purposeful.

Waiting in the Wings

My own theatre career began as an understudy.  Recognizing that I might never get the chance to step in and replace someone for a show, the director graciously worked me into a few dance numbers.  I think just the fact that I was present at every rehearsal reminded the other ladies in the cast that they were expendable.

Although the theatre company I launched myself years later didn’t have the luxury of understudies, I did let it be known that anyone with less than ten lines would be expected to learn the role of a major character in the event of an emergency.  The takeaway?  Actors tend to get off-book much faster if they know you already have a Plan B.