A Moving Moment from Philaster Rehearsal

There’s a moment in Philaster in 4.6 where our hero, wounded, asks Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasaline to help move him closer to the bleeding Bellario. No explicit stage direction exists to guide this movement, and the text is unclear with its embedded directions. Does he actually move? Do the other three characters help him to do so? If he does move, how close to Bellario does he get? Most importantly: why does he need their help? It’s moments like this which make the rehearsals for the Actors' Renaissance Season so fun to watch, because the actors have to answer these questions themselves, and quickly. When you only have two weeks to put up a show, you don’t get the luxury of lounging about, debating at length over staging.

The first few times they ran the scene, they skipped over this moment. There’s so much going on before and after it (stabbings galore, mostly) that the actors hadn’t had time to address it specifically. They ran the scene with Philaster standing, having run away from an altercation in which the Country gentleman stabs him, and Thrasaline, Cleremont, and Dion leading Bellario away on his feet moments after Philaster stabs him (I wasn’t kidding about the stabbings galore). Since, later in the play, Dion mentions that their wounds were superficial, they played the scene as though they weren’t hurt.

But Philaster says: “some / good body lend a hand to draw us nearer” (4.6110-1), which is a clue. The actors decided that if Philaster needs a hand to move about six feet, he must be seriously wounded. This means they had to rethink the scene in which he gets stabbed to make it clear how hurt he is, and it also means that Greg Phelps, who plays Philaster, has to change his physicality in the scene in order to portray it. Bellario must also be near death, if he cannot move to get closer to Philaster, and Miriam Donald, who plays Bellario, had to adjust accordingly. After deciding on the severity of the injuries, both actors immediately changed their physicalities, and the scene suddenly started to make more sense.

“Lay me gently on his neck” (4.6.113) is the next clue. Does it have to actually be on his neck? That seems painful and awkward, and they decided against it. Instead, Greg leans on John Harrell’s Dion in order to limp over and collapse next to Miriam. Greg crawls behind her and takes her in his arms so that her upper body is off the floor and cradled against his chest. He weeps and implores the others standing by, “Can you see / such clear, pure blood drop and not cut your flesh / to stop his life?” (4.6.120-2). It’s an extremely touching moment, and adds another layer to the already complex Bellario-Philaster relationship.

This is what the Renaissance season is all about, and it is a joy to watch the process. The actors took a moment that had previously been a bit of a strange throwaway and turned it into one of the most powerful parts of the play. This whole process happened in just twenty minutes. Look for this moment when you come see Philaster, which opens on Friday, February 3, with a Pay-What-You-Will preview on Thursday. With the way the scene is shaping up, it’ll be impossible to miss.

-Lia Razak

Succession-Anxiety: From Richard III to Philaster

Richard is dead!

Now what?

Questions of succession are swirling around the ASC, first with Richard III – the bloody culmination of the War of the Roses – and next with Philaster, Or, Love Lies A-Bleeding. This multifaceted play, written in 1609 or 1610 as a collaboration between Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, begins with some royal problems. The nameless King, who rules the fictionalized twin kingdoms of Sicily and Calabria, is the son of a usurper – his father stole the throne. And our hero Philaster, the son of the deposed king, lives still. This is Hamlet a generation later, if Claudius had lived to have a son and Hamlet had delayed his revenge until that son was crowned.

One of the most influential conceptions of the English monarchical political structure was the divine right of kings. The monarchy was not simply a legislative office but also a religious covenant; the throne was the earthly seat of God and the rightful King his corporeal embodiment. The vehement pearl-clutching that resulted from the ascendancy of a usurping king was so all-encompassing that we now have (in addition to the insanity that was the English line of succession in general, but particularly between 1337 and 1558) a whole catalogue of wonderful plays and books dealing with the topic. Now, we’re moving from a semi-historical depiction of succession-anxiety (however fanaticized or misleading it may be) in Shakespeare’s Richard III to a fictional, metaphorical account in Philaster.

These types of plays were exceedingly popular, likely because they were resonantly topical. Philip Henslowe’s diary indicates that Shakespeare’s Henry VI trilogy was among his biggest financial successes, though today those plays rarely see performance. (The ASC has produced all three during Actors' Renaissance Seasons since 2009). Just as we flock to the movies to see films about our own history, particularly the histories of our wars (Saving Private Ryan and The Great Escape come immediately to mind) so did the people of London flock to the theaters to see their past acted out for them. It was exciting and cathartic to watch the death of kings and usurpation of thrones safely depicted in a fictional setting; when it really happened, heads rolled. And the question was never far from anybody’s mind: in 1610, James I sat on the throne, and though his reign was not nearly as complicated as a Lancaster’s or a York’s, it was fraught with enough problems that Philaster, in coming too near some of them, found itself heavily censored in its first Quarto printing in 1620. (More on this to come!)

Though the deposition happens before the start of Philaster, and though the play turns from political to romantic to tragic to comic, the thread of political intrigue runs throughout, permeating the action. Nobody ever really forgets that the King is the issue of a usurper, and that until Philaster regains his kingdom, divine powers will keep the world out of joint. The King laments this in a Claudius-like fashion during an aside, begging the gods to:

forgive the sin

I have committed: let it not fall

upon this undeserving child of mine;

She has not broke your laws. But how can I

Look to be heard of gods that must be just

Praying upon the ground I hold by wrong? (2.4.57-62)

and eventually admits his guilt and steps aside, saying to Philaster, “I have wronged you, / And though I find it last and beaten to it / Let first your goodness know it … Be what you are born to” (5.3.176-9).

This is how these plays must end: with the restoration of the “right heir.” Until whoever is born rightfully to the throne (according to the complicated and convoluted laws of the time) is sitting unchallenged upon it, the world of the play (and the response of the audience) is jangled and out of tune. If the wrong guy is sitting up there at the end, well… it’s not the end. It took Shakespeare 10 history plays, from King John to Henry VIII, to get the ending “right,” because historically it took hundreds of years for the English to resolve the incidents leading up to and occurring during the War of the Roses. The succession-anxiety imbued in these plays would have infused the time as well, creating a constant state of uneasiness and panic. Not until the tyrant falls in Richard III can the audience breathe easy, and Philaster must end not only with the hero getting the princess and with the girl dressed as a boy identifying herself (It is a woman!), but with the previous usurpation reversed and with Philaster regaining his birthright. It’s not just for the sake of the plot, but for divine law, which, when bent or broken, gives rise to a Richard instead of a Henry.

-Lia Razak

"Before the times of change, still is it so"

One of the most exciting aspects of sitting in on rehearsals throughout the lead-up to Richard III is being able to see how the play changes as it progresses. The most obvious change between rehearsal and performance is the presence of costumes and make-up, since neither of these aspects were a crucial part of the rehearsal process. This addition was evident on opening night, particularly on Sarah Fallon (playing Margaret) and Miriam Donald (for the Duchess). Both of these women are older characters, so the actors decided to show this through cosmetics and costume choices.

Even on opening night, there were other significant changes to the play that had nothing to do with its material elements. During Margaret’s cursing scene (1.4), Ben Curns (Richard) spit out his drink in Sarah Fallon’s face after she lashes a series of curses at him and others. During rehearsals, the two never practiced this or acknowledged that this would take place in the performance, so I found myself wondering if Sarah was as shocked as I was in that moment! This visual and aural effect created a powerful statement to the audience about Richard’s mental state during Margaret’s rant against the Yorks, where he does not have many lines.

Another change came later in this scene when Sarah chose to jump on the table to yell her insults at Rivers and Grey, creating a different power dynamic than the actors had previously rehearsed. While Margaret is the center of attention in this scene, during rehearsals she was physically on the same level as the other characters; yet now her elevation communicates to the audience that she is the most knowing character in this scene, because many of her curses prove true by the end of the play. Her insult to Elizabeth: “die neither mother, wife, nor England’s Queen” comes to apply to many of the women by the play’s conclusion. This staging choice highlights that while Richard’s war is ultimately against men, it is often the women who prove to be his most vocal and demeaning foes.

When rehearsing this scene, Miriam pointed out that she (as Grey) and Gregory Jon Phelps (as Rivers) have little to do or say throughout this scene, and questioned whether they should be sitting at a table, center stage. The company decided to keep this prop in place because they felt it made the most sense for the scene’s opening. This decision forced Margaret to stand to the side of the table during her lengthy passage cursing everyone in rehearsal. Now, they have eradicated this problem through Margaret’s forceful jump atop the table to deliver these powerful lines. Sometimes these changes come from audience’s response to a character, or from practical concerns such as movement and costuming that may not have been evident in rehearsal. Regardless of their purpose, these minor changes affect the way the actors tell the story, and I look forward to seeing what else they adapt as the production moves forward.

--Amy Kenny

“I would have it suddenly performed”

Wednesday: With the dress rehearsal looming this evening, the rehearsal process is practically over for Richard III, and these two weeks have gone by quickly (I’m sure even more so for the actors who are actually in the play). The production is like a giant jigsaw puzzle with many pieces worked on independently that somehow must fit together on opening night. Throughout the entire rehearsal process, the actors have adhered to a similar formula for each scene. First, they did a read through of the scene to make sure everyone understood what is happening and where people are needed. Often, actors only become aware of what their characters are doing through their fellow actors’ lines, particularly when working with cue scripts. For example, in the wooing scene, Richard orders the guards, “stand thou when I command,” indicating to the audience that they have disregarded his earlier order. As this unfolded in the read-through on stage, it became clear that the actors must determine their blocking accordingly; otherwise Richard’s second line would not make sense. The actors are required to be “off-book” by the first day of rehearsal, having already completed their scansion and paraphrasing by the time the process begins, but it is still helpful for them to hear the scene in its entirety so they can make collective decisions about how it should be performed.

After they did a read-through, the company began working each scene “on its feet,” moving around the stage and deciding which configurations are best to tell the story of that particular scene. I noticed that the actors often favored a triangular arrangement on the stage, which some of the actors have told me is most powerful. They were always concerned about the location of exits and entrances, as this is typically the only way of distinguishing between various locales on a sparse stage. While they openly discussed their ideas about blocking, crossing and even plot at times, the actors never gave one another notes on acting style, as it seems to be understood between the company members that they trust each other’s work.

For the past two weeks, the company worked on the scenes somewhat chronologically because it helped the actors understand what the characters have been through emotionally and physically up unto that point in the play. For example, the company worked on Margaret’s cursing scene (1.3) before her scene teaching the Duchess and Elizabeth how to curse (4.4), so the actors were aware of the significance of this scene for each of the characters, and the transformation they go through between them.

In addition to rehearsing scenes, the company traded duties on other elements of production throughout the rehearsal process. Allison Glenzer worked on creating props; Jeremy West choreographed the fight sequences; and numerous company members arranged musical sequences for the pre-show and interlude. In fact, that all of these activities occurred simultaneously means that the dress rehearsal will be the first time that all of the elements have come together for the production. The company did a run-through of the text and sound cues on Tuesday, but most of the props, music and costumes were yet missing from the play at this point. Some of the actors have rehearsed particular scenes in costume to ensure there is enough time for a change. Aidan O’Reilly, for example, needed to change from Ratcliffe to the ghost of Clarence in the nightmare scenes (5.3-5), so he wore his characters’ apparel during the run-through to make sure this quick change was feasible with the costumes he had chosen. Yet, the day before the dress rehearsal, some actors have yet to choose their costumes because they were working on other elements of the production. It is fascinating how little this matters, actually, because the production does not necessarily highlight the material elements of performance, instead focusing on telling the story of the play.

It is also interesting how the play is constantly evolving both in textual choices and movement. Even during the run-through, Allison Glenzer changed one of her lines from the Folio to Quarto text based on what she was trying to evoke as Elizabeth in that scene. While Kim Maurice (the prompter) took notes of all of these changes, they often take place so rapidly that there is not time for the company to discuss them. It is obvious that productions of these plays by Shakespeare’s company, working under similar time constraints, would have evolved over the weeks, months, and years of performance based on a number of factors: actors’ choices, audience reactions, or practical concerns. Many conditions of performance dictated the text, rather than the other way around. Modern readers are frequently unaware of the fact that the text of any given Shakespearean play in front of us today has gone through a number of mutations throughout history, and therefore, that there is no one “authoritative” text. This is something that I have often heard before, but which becomes completely apparent while watching the rehearsal process for the Renaissance Season, where pragmatism often outweighs other concerns.

--Amy Kenny

“my battle shall be ordered”

Sunday: the company worked on the final fight sequence, where Richmond kills Richard, bringing about unity and the Tudor era. Battles are crucial to the history plays because they illustrate the on-going War of the Roses to the audience in a tangible way. Jeremy West volunteered to be the fight choreographer for Richard III and came up with ideas about how they should stage each “moment of violence,” as he terms them, before rehearsal. He has 10 years of experience choreographing fights and it shows in his technical knowledge about what the actor must do to suspend disbelief for the audience. His main goal is to make sure that the actors are as safe as possible while performing a fight sequence that looks as realistic as possible.

He detailed each move for the actors himself before they stepped in to take over the scene, first performing it in slow motion to acclimate their bodies to the movements. He explained to the actors the technical information of how the body would react to such a wound, so that they were able to visualize performing each maneuver. I was surprised to find that the slightest movement can drastically affect the believability of a punch. After explaining the technical side of it, Jeremy related what is happening in the story during that scene and how the fight enhances that moment. As a fight choreographer, he has a lot of room to influence characterization, since Shakespeare leaves many stage directions for fights ambiguous.

The stage direction for one of the fights they choreographed states, “Alarum, Enter RICHARD and RICHMOND; they fight. Richard is slain. Then retreat being sounded, exit Richmond, and Richard’s body is removed. Flourish.” Jeremy thought that the story they could tell through the choreography between Ben Curns (Richard) and Gregory Jon Phelps (Richmond) is that Richard has more brute force than Richmond who is of a smaller build, but that Richard’s overconfidence allows Richmond to serve him a fatal blow. This is based partly on the physical build of the actors, and partly on his reading of the characters in the play. All of the actors agreed on this narrative and used it to fill in the gaps in choreography, when there are lulls in the movements to ensure safety because the actors are not actually fighting.

After he advised on the technical and dramatic impact of this moment in the production, Jeremy watched the fight from various angles to ensure that it looks natural to the greatest amount of people in the audience. Often he asked the actors to move upstage to block the vantage points where it is obvious that the punches and sword fighting are merely fabricated. At one point, they even asked me to sit on a gallant stool so they could become accustomed to having audience members on stage throughout the fight, as will happen during performances. No one said watching rehearsals was going to be easy! The acoustics of the Blackfriars, particularly when sitting on a gallant stool, mean that the fights are incredibly impactful because every clink of the swords reverberates through the audience. The actors in Shakespeare’s company would have had a great deal of technical knowledge about swordsmanship, as would those in his audience, so it is fitting that many of the ASC actors have also been technically trained for these scenes.

--Amy Kenny

“Despair and Die”

Thursday: the actors tackled the ghost scene (5.3-5), where ghosts of many Richard has murdered come back to haunt him before the Battle of Bosworth and curse him, “Despair and die.” Almost every actor in the company is in this scene, and those who aren’t are sounding the various trumpets and alarums that the text calls for, as well as paging the curtains and doors. The first thing I noticed about this scene in rehearsal is how the doubling in this production creates a visual connection for the audience of the two parties at war, the houses of York and Lancaster (and later Richmond). For example, Gregory Jon Phelps plays both Henry VI (on stage as a corpse in 1.2, as well as having played the role in last year’s Henry VI, Part 3) and Richmond, later Henry VII, serving as a physical connection between the two characters. This not only makes it easier for the audience to understand which “team” each character is on, but also demonstrates why Richmond has such an investment in killing the king, because Richard has wronged so many in his own family. Ben Curns commented that when cutting the script, he tried not to have one actor on stage as one character and then doubling as another character too soon afterwards so that the audience is always aware of who each actor is playing. These visual connections ease the audience into an understanding of the complicated familial history of these plays, even if only subconsciously.

The first major decision that the company made about this scene was how and where to pitch the tents that the texts call for. Allison Glenzer took on the role of prop master and volunteered to slit a sheet down the middle and stitch it up again to create a tent-like effect covering each of the flanking doors. Since the company has used the Lancaster and York roses throughout their productions of the history cycle, they wanted to keep this imagery for the audience. After some discussion about what Richmond’s rose should be (since he is technically not York or Lancaster), John Harrel suggested that he should have both to symbolize the unity that he brings about at the play’s conclusion, and asked me for pictures of the Tudor rose so they can replicate it (right). Props were limited and therefore symbolic on the early modern English stage, so a singular rose could easily signify the entire army of either Lancaster or York.

After figuring the props out, the company tried to block the scene, first with the ghosts walking in a circle around Richard; then by walking in a figure eight across the stage; until finally they decided upon having the ghosts enter through the trap. This solution created an eerie effect as though they were coming from the underworld back into Richard’s life. The nightmare was not over for the actors, however, as they could not decide how to get all of the ghosts off the stage after this point. Various members suggested working the exits one way or another before they decided that they group of ghosts should exit simultaneously through the discovery space. Since they did not fit linearly, they grouped together, creating a tableaux reminiscent of a family portrait; only one of the Adams family instead of the Bradys. However, this is unsettlingly fitting for the tumultuous family drama that encompasses the play and will create a wonderful dramatic conclusion.

--Amy Kenny

‘Was ever a woman in this humor woo’d?’

Tuesday: It was the first full day of Richard III rehearsals after the read-through on Sunday, and there were a lot of scenes on the docket. One of the major scenes the actors covered was the wooing scene (1.2), where Richard famously woos Anne in front of her husband’s father's corpse. This is a horrific act, yet the way that Richard is able to woo Anne in the face of her disdain with only his words illustrates Shakespeare’s own command of language, which he certainly seems keen to show off to his contemporaries at this early stage in his career.

The actors first tried to figure out the blocking of the scene -- specifically whether or not Gregory Jon Phelps should be on stage as the corpse of Henry VI or if it should just be a dummy. They ended up deciding that it would be more powerful and impactful for the audience to have an actor in that position throughout the scene. Then they had a discussion as to whether or not the blood that seeps from Henry’s wounds in this scene is real or imagined, and, if it is real, how to stage it. Brandi Rhome voiced her opinion that it should be bleeding in the presence of the murderer as a sign of Richard’s villainy to Anne. The audience informs many of their decisions, both practically, such as keeping track of who can see what’s going on, and also thematically, to make sure the audience can always understand the story they are telling.

Watching the actors work without a director is intriguing because they make all of their own decisions about blocking and crossing, among other things. They decide how everyone should enter based on the exits from the previous scene and on the information the text provides. In this scene, the halberds are initially heading towards Chertsey, and then Richard tells them to go to Whitefriars instead. The company decided to physically demonstrate this shift by having the halberds originally headed towards the left door and then changing to the center discovery space for their eventual exit.

Getting the right ratio of intimacy and disdain in this scene is important for showing Richard’s characterization, and Ben and Brandi walked through the lines while having René Thornton Jr. watch to give his opinion on their movements and dialogue. They noticed how the switch from the formal you to informal thou is important and should indicate something in their physicality. They decide to use this point to move closer towards one another, crossing the lifeless body of Anne’s husband and Richard’s latest victim. It’s amazing to see how Shakespeare embeds many of the details of the play — the staging, characterization and plot —in the lines. Frequently, one actor suggests that someone storm off or be friendly towards the other characters in the scene, only for someone else to point out whether or not that fits with the rest of the information given in the play.

Based on Anne’s retort, “’Tis more than you deserve,” Ben and Brandi decided to stage the lead-up to a kiss immediately before this moment so she uses the line to refuse him. During Richard’s line, “Bid me farewell,” Richard moves in for a kiss and lingers, waiting for Anne to requite his love. Their decisions show how intimate this scene is, while still getting across the fact that Richard is ensnaring Anne in his web.

--Amy Kenny

'Richard III' Rehearsals Begin

Sunday evening: the first day of rehearsal for Richard III, and I am excited to see the actors at work. They have just come off of putting up Much Ado about Nothing in two days, so are understandably tired, but all show up ready for the first read-through of Shakespeare’s most popular history play. After seeing Ben Curns and Miriam Donald duke it out as a hilarious and well-matched Benedick and Beatrice, I am a little uncertain for what lies ahead in Richard III. Can Benedick really be malicious enough to be the “bottled spider?” I'm uncertain going into rehearsals, but less than five minutes in, I need no more convincing. I am thoroughly scared by Ben hurling insults across the table, and I find it amazing how everyone just slips right into character even while at the table reading lines. No costumes, no stage, no set: just twelve actors sitting around a table, yet the characters and plot come alive.

The company has a jovial rapport with one another. When Sarah Fallon (playing Margaret) finishes her list of curses against Richard, Ben playfully responds, “Lady Disdain, art thou still living?” -- a throw-back to his line in Much Ado aimed at Beatrice. I can tell that many of them have worked together for years. They need little explanation and speak in a form of cliff notes with each other. As each person reads his/her part, the company is making sure that the cues are accurate (and not repeated -- as was the case a few times). On a few different occasions, an actor stops to clarify to whom the line is directed, or which actor is playing that part as there are a lot of roles. There are over 52 speaking parts in this play and only 12 actors, so even with doubling, some roles are getting axed. By the end of the play, Richard does that to most of the characters anyway, so it is of no consequential loss! They have already done paraphrasing and scansion before the read-through and most of the actors are off-book: a surprising feat considering they just began Much Ado a few days ago as well.

As the read-through progresses, I notice that many actors choose to substitute words that they feel work better in the scene. The substitutions are still, however, Shakespeare's words. The play exists in the 1623 First Folio and in six earlier Quarto versions, so the actors are able to replace particular words and phrases from another edition if they feel that those lines work better. Sometimes the flow and rhythm of the line is improved with a different word. Other times, the word substitution changes the meaning of the line (ever so) slightly.

After the read-through is done, the actors discuss some pronunciation points, making a collective decision for all of the proper nouns and removing references to those characters that have been cut. Ben, who also cut the script for this production, has taken on a leadership role (a good idea for the actor playing the Machiavellian?) and has outlined the historical background of each of these characters on a chart on the wall, creating a (crazy) family tree of sorts. Even though Shakespeare plays pretty fast and loose with these histories, sometimes it is helpful for actors to know what Shakespeare’s audience was aware of when watching the play. Over the next two weeks of rehearsal, I will be interested to see how the Buckingham-Richard relationship develops, because Rene and Ben already have quite a history acting together and this relationship can make or break the play. I’m also excited to see Sarah as Margaret, because if the read-through is any indication, she has a lot of vengeance to voice!

--Amy Kenny

The Renaissance Continues, Dives Into Tragedy

The 2012 Actors' Renaissance Season presses on at the American Shakespeare Center. However, next on the list isn't a heart warming comedy; there won't be happy marriages, star-crossed lovers, or hilarious cases of mistaken identity. Next on the list is Richard III, one of Shakespeare's darkest tragedies; a play that contains murder, betrayal, and perhaps the most villainous character in all of Shakespeare's works. The title character in Richard III begins as the Duke of Gloucester and later becomes king. His ascension to the throne could hardly be called smooth, and defines why he is the cruelest of villains. At the beginning of the play, Richard openly admits to being "subtle, false, and treacherous". His ambition drives him to the point of murder more often than not, and family means absolutely nothing to him (made pretty obvious by the fact that his brother is one of his main targets). The ensuing events are suspenseful, intense, and full of death and suffering. With that being said, this play is not without humor, albeit dark and subtle humor. Richard goes about destroying all those in his way, all the while winking at the audience to make sure they know what he's about to do. He draws the audience in so that they almost feel like a co-conspirator, and because of that the audience begins to forgive Richard a little bit more than they should, and even, dare I say it, root him on.

I recently sat in on a rehearsal for Richard III as I did for Much Ado about Nothing, and although the plays are wildly different, my impressions didn't change that much. The actors raced through the script, blocking it out and sculpting the action in a way that told an effective story, they were all memorized on their lines (even more impressive since Richard III is the second longest Shakespeare play behind Hamlet), and the actors gave their characters a subtlety and specificity that is mind-boggling at this early stage in the process. What pleasantly surprised me was the use of humor. In places, the actors worked diligently to bring out the humor as much as possible. This created small reprieves from the violence where I could catch my breath, and because of that, the plunge back into the tragedy grabbed hold of me even harder.

Watching Richard III is kind of like watching a really good thriller movie (not that terrible gory stuff...I'm talking Hitchcock here). You have an idea of what's going to happen, but Shakespeare draws scenes out in a way that slowly pulls you more to the edge of your seat; you're waiting for something crazy to happen, you know something is right around the corner, but you won't see until Shakespeare has made you whittle down your fingernails with anticipation. A good example of this is the murder (or almost murder...you have to see the show to find out what really happens) of Richard's brother, Clarence. I won't give anything important away for you future audience members, but two hired hands are about to kill Clarence in his sleep. At the last moment, Clarence wakes up and, better yet, he knows what the two men are there to do. What follows is a heart stopping dialogue between the three men about the afterlife, the meaning of family, love, and a man's dignity. That scene was rehearsed today while I was sitting in the seats at the Blackfriars Playhouse, and let me tell you, I can't remember if I was breathing the whole time.

In the end, this kind of tragedy is not for everyone. However, I think it's well worth everyone's time; The story is compelling, the individual performances (from what I saw) are great, the epic nature of the play promises to broaden anyone's horizons, and you get to feel a little bit like a villain's side kick. I mean, come on, who doesn't like to feel a little bad every now and then?

A Change of Pace: Actors Begin Rehearsals for Renaissance Season

"I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Benedick: nobody marks you." This is the opening line in the first of many volleys in the fast-paced, hilarious war of words between Benedick and Beatrice, two of Shakespeare's most beloved characters. They come from Much Ado about Nothing, which opens the American Shakespeare Center's 2012 Actors' Renaissance Season. Much Ado is a great play to begin the season for the American Shakespeare Center; it moves very quickly (the ASC has an internationally acclaimed reputation for taking all the fluff and snobby intellectualism out of Shakespeare, and instead giving highly energized, entertaining performances that focus on the actor-audience relationship), and, especially poignant following the holidays, gives the audience laugh-induced stomach aches.

When I was presented the opportunity to observe the show's first rehearsal, I was naturally pretty excited. I've always been interested in seeing what a rehearsal for the Renaissance Season looks like, because it's unlike any process that's used in normal practice today. Here's what you could expect if you walked into a normal rehearsal hall in the beginning stages of a show's creation:

1) The actors, director, and creative team (lighting designers, costumers, etc.) all meet on the first day for introductions. The designers give short presentations on what they're thinking about doing with the show. They often times have models, sketches, or even power point presentations.
2) The director then sits at a table with the actors and they read through the script together, taking time to discuss meaning, theme, character, and anything else that can be gained from the words on the page.
3) After a few days of this, the director begins to stage the play, telling the actors where to go and when. Depending on the director, actors have either a good deal of freedom in what they do, or none at all.
4) This continues until the entire play has been staged, dress rehearsals are then done, adjustments are made, and then it's time for opening. When all is said and done, this process normally takes 3-8 weeks.

How is the Renaissance Season different, you ask? Well, first you get rid of the creative team. No designers, no costumers. The lights never dim at the Blackfriars, so a lighting designer wouldn't be able to do much there, and the actors pick out their own costumes from what's in stock. Next, you get rid of the director. The actors are responsible for working together to create the staging in a way that effectively tells the story. So that's it! There's also one more tiny, miniscule, little detail. Remember how the process from the first rehearsal to opening night can take as long as 8 weeks? The actors of the Renaissance Season get 2 days. Yes. 2 days. Many actors I know would faint if that's what they got. Or quit. Or just cry.

So here I am, quietly sneaking into the back of the balcony by myself on the first day of rehearsal, and the actors are already blazing through the Much Ado script. I shouldn't have been surprised, but it seemed like in the time it took me to take off my bag and coat and settle into a seat, they had already moved onto the next scene (I should note that I had, earlier that morning, sat in on the beginning of the same rehearsal block alongside a tour group of 39 children with accompanying adults, all of whom sat, entranced by the performers' prowess and by the beauty of the theatre itself). However, the actors at the ASC are seasoned for it; they love the challenge, and they realize that they don't have time to get hung up on concepts, style, and overly intellectualized conversation. They act on impulse. They go with their gut. If a choice doesn't work, nobody apologizes, nobody beats themselves up, they just acknowledge that it didn't work and find another option.

By the time the actors took their first break of the day (a little under an hour and a half into rehearsal), they had staged close to ten pages of the script, or roughly ten minutes of the show. Here's how to put that into perspective: A general rule-of-thumb for many directors in America is that one minute of a play requires an hour of rehearsal. The actors of the Renaissance Season did ten minutes in an hour and a half, and did it well.

At that point I slid out of the theatre and headed to the ASC's office a few blocks away, but the impression that rehearsal left with me has stuck. I am hard pressed to remember a time when I've seen actors work with such tenacity and passion. Even though they were working at incredible speeds, they were still able to make me laugh hard enough to worry that I was disrupting rehearsal. I'm not sure that you could say one method of rehearsing is better than another. Each production has its own needs, but it was refreshing to watch professionals work in the manner they do during the American Shakespeare Center's Renaissance Season. Sometimes we need to pick up the tempo in order to make things more interesting, not only in theatre, but in life as well. A change of pace is certainly something this Much Ado brings to the table, and I'm pretty excited to see the opening performance.

- ASC Intern John G.