You wear the mask. You pretend the movement of an element or material.
You exit backstage. Then you reenter and you must tell the audience of a bank robbery you witnessed.
The text cannot overpower the movement.
You must have pleasure in your movement. Your own special pleasure.
Or maybe you come on the stage to perform a cabaret song. Same challenge.
Why is it so hard to keep the physical rhythm once the actor stands on two legs?
Or you tell te audience of falling in love. If you play love. If you play an emotion. Adios immediately.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Feedback
A question.
Only a simple question.
Do you know that sport, where you go on the bridge. And then you jump off, with the rope. The bungie? Yes, you do?
Well lets say that we take Madame to the bridge. We say oh yes my little friend, I will pay for you to go. 20 euros? Not so bad! There you go. And jump!
Then we cut her rope.
Would anyone here be sad to see her die? Or would you be happy to kil her and her horrible voice? This whole group was terrible, but she was top level. I ahd to think up a special death for her.
Bon. We put the whole group in a van. Maybe we give them some morphine to make things easier. Then we lead them to the bungie jump. Come my friends. Then snap snap snap. Who here says oh no nonono! They were beautiful!
No one? Bon. Thank you for that horrible moment. Adios immediately.
Only a simple question.
Do you know that sport, where you go on the bridge. And then you jump off, with the rope. The bungie? Yes, you do?
Well lets say that we take Madame to the bridge. We say oh yes my little friend, I will pay for you to go. 20 euros? Not so bad! There you go. And jump!
Then we cut her rope.
Would anyone here be sad to see her die? Or would you be happy to kil her and her horrible voice? This whole group was terrible, but she was top level. I ahd to think up a special death for her.
Bon. We put the whole group in a van. Maybe we give them some morphine to make things easier. Then we lead them to the bungie jump. Come my friends. Then snap snap snap. Who here says oh no nonono! They were beautiful!
No one? Bon. Thank you for that horrible moment. Adios immediately.
The Pleasure to Pretend
Prof: "When you do these exercises, you are looking for your own special sense of play. How is my play with this element? With this material? If my play is good, if I love to play in this way, maybe I can use it to build a character. If my play is blahblahblah, then maybe no one will like to see me on the stage playing this way.
This is how an actor builds a character. They bring things to the character that are fun for them to play. That is where the actor starts. We do not care about the ideas of the play, the horrible analysis of my balls. No, the actor creates the character out of their pleasure to pretend. And so we have this workshop to find different ways that you have the pleasure to pretend.
Of course, the impulse is always first. The impulse guides the movement. And then on top of the movement comes the text. In this way, we do not have blah blah blah theater. We have the theater of impulse. The theater of game. The game, the impulse, it starts and we do not know where it is going. It will be a surprise.
I do not care if you are funny. Only that you are surprising. This way, you follow your impulses, wherever they lead you, And you cannot know where you are going.
We come to the theater to see you play. We don't care about your pain, about your suffering. This is the secret of your life. It is not for us. Your play is for us. You have the pleasure to play a character who suffers. But if you come out to the stage to suffer with your private pain, you break everyone's balls. "
This is how an actor builds a character. They bring things to the character that are fun for them to play. That is where the actor starts. We do not care about the ideas of the play, the horrible analysis of my balls. No, the actor creates the character out of their pleasure to pretend. And so we have this workshop to find different ways that you have the pleasure to pretend.
Of course, the impulse is always first. The impulse guides the movement. And then on top of the movement comes the text. In this way, we do not have blah blah blah theater. We have the theater of impulse. The theater of game. The game, the impulse, it starts and we do not know where it is going. It will be a surprise.
I do not care if you are funny. Only that you are surprising. This way, you follow your impulses, wherever they lead you, And you cannot know where you are going.
We come to the theater to see you play. We don't care about your pain, about your suffering. This is the secret of your life. It is not for us. Your play is for us. You have the pleasure to play a character who suffers. But if you come out to the stage to suffer with your private pain, you break everyone's balls. "
Theater of My Balls
Push push push. This is how I ever got things in life was to push push push.
So then I go onstage and of course it is push push push.
Prof: "You are doing theater of my balls. You are too aggressive on the stage. There is no play, just aggression."
My god. My god. My god.
I sit in the cafe in Paris. I have wine. I sit for three hours and don't worry about doing anything. Maybe I enjoy my life a little...
Maybe I don't push so much now.
Theater is much more interesting when the impulse is alive.
Theater of push push push is theater of my balls. Everyone leaves the theater and their balls have bruises.
So then I go onstage and of course it is push push push.
Prof: "You are doing theater of my balls. You are too aggressive on the stage. There is no play, just aggression."
My god. My god. My god.
I sit in the cafe in Paris. I have wine. I sit for three hours and don't worry about doing anything. Maybe I enjoy my life a little...
Maybe I don't push so much now.
Theater is much more interesting when the impulse is alive.
Theater of push push push is theater of my balls. Everyone leaves the theater and their balls have bruises.
Be More Alive Than That
You wear the neutral mask. You go on the stage.
You interpret with you body the movement of the elements. Earth, fire, wind, water.
You interpret materials: glue, acid, vinegar, oil, bleach, glass...
Prof: "Your movement, it is too mechanical. You find one thing to do with your body and you repeat it. It is like the traditional theater. You find one thing that works and then you repeat it after your impulse has died. You must be more alive than that."
The students go up. They play with their bodies. The drum is hit and they freeze. Their masks are removed. They ontinue to move.
The students are told to speak text as they move. The text must not guide the movement. The movement informs the text. The student has the pleasure to play with the text as the element. The text does not take over the element, the text does not take over the physical impulse.
The impulse. It changes. It is alive. We start with the impulse and we never know where we are going.
So I wait to begin the exercise. I do not knw what will happen. I try not to think, only to stay open and know that SOMETHING will happen. Then I begin. I look for the play. How do I play?
I play with vinegar.
Prof: "You are the homosexual vinegar. We put you in the museum for top level homosexual vinegar."
I play with acid.
Prof: "Before, when you played with homosexual vinegar, you were light. You had your special pleasure. Now you are militant heterosexual. This is so terrible. John Wayne in Vietnam aggressive. Horrible. You must be light, not aggressive."
You interpret with you body the movement of the elements. Earth, fire, wind, water.
You interpret materials: glue, acid, vinegar, oil, bleach, glass...
Prof: "Your movement, it is too mechanical. You find one thing to do with your body and you repeat it. It is like the traditional theater. You find one thing that works and then you repeat it after your impulse has died. You must be more alive than that."
The students go up. They play with their bodies. The drum is hit and they freeze. Their masks are removed. They ontinue to move.
The students are told to speak text as they move. The text must not guide the movement. The movement informs the text. The student has the pleasure to play with the text as the element. The text does not take over the element, the text does not take over the physical impulse.
The impulse. It changes. It is alive. We start with the impulse and we never know where we are going.
So I wait to begin the exercise. I do not knw what will happen. I try not to think, only to stay open and know that SOMETHING will happen. Then I begin. I look for the play. How do I play?
I play with vinegar.
Prof: "You are the homosexual vinegar. We put you in the museum for top level homosexual vinegar."
I play with acid.
Prof: "Before, when you played with homosexual vinegar, you were light. You had your special pleasure. Now you are militant heterosexual. This is so terrible. John Wayne in Vietnam aggressive. Horrible. You must be light, not aggressive."
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
The Pleasure to Pretend
The actor wears a neutral mask.
The actor must pretend to be water.
Prof: "You see these actors on the stage pretending to be water. They pretend to be a lake. Bon. Which lakes are clear and which are dirty? Which lake would you swim in? This student has a clear and beautiful lake, but this one absoloutely horrible. I would never go in that lake. Dirty water. Spiders. Plastic bags. To go in this lake, I would be dead."
Questions from the exercise:
How does embodying movement change the way that an actor plays with the space and their text? How does the change in the impulse to movement shift the way the actor plays?
_____
You have to embody the lake.
So you do the exercise.
The professor says it is terrible.
He lets you try again.
Oh god this again. "be a lake" "be water" what a load of hippie bullshit. Like I'm in a meeting of transcendentalist vegans in Berkeley California.
And then something happens to you. You stop thinking about how to do the exercise and you become aware of the room. You imagine for a moment the size of a lake, its immensity. Your body stops moving so much and feels somehow supported by this imagined size and immensity.
Your mask is removed. You are told to rise to your feet while maintaining this quality, and speak a text.
So you rise, you speak, and this size it stays with you. And you feel free.
__________
Prof: "He was beautiful, wasn't he? He had a good face. All the time on the stage you look like an idiot. An American optimist with a big idiot smile, with the American flag in the background. Absoloutely horrible. But now you are on the stage and you are open. Much better to see you this way than to see the horrible American who thinks that everything will be ok."
The actor must pretend to be water.
Prof: "You see these actors on the stage pretending to be water. They pretend to be a lake. Bon. Which lakes are clear and which are dirty? Which lake would you swim in? This student has a clear and beautiful lake, but this one absoloutely horrible. I would never go in that lake. Dirty water. Spiders. Plastic bags. To go in this lake, I would be dead."
Questions from the exercise:
How does embodying movement change the way that an actor plays with the space and their text? How does the change in the impulse to movement shift the way the actor plays?
_____
You have to embody the lake.
So you do the exercise.
The professor says it is terrible.
He lets you try again.
Oh god this again. "be a lake" "be water" what a load of hippie bullshit. Like I'm in a meeting of transcendentalist vegans in Berkeley California.
And then something happens to you. You stop thinking about how to do the exercise and you become aware of the room. You imagine for a moment the size of a lake, its immensity. Your body stops moving so much and feels somehow supported by this imagined size and immensity.
Your mask is removed. You are told to rise to your feet while maintaining this quality, and speak a text.
So you rise, you speak, and this size it stays with you. And you feel free.
__________
Prof: "He was beautiful, wasn't he? He had a good face. All the time on the stage you look like an idiot. An American optimist with a big idiot smile, with the American flag in the background. Absoloutely horrible. But now you are on the stage and you are open. Much better to see you this way than to see the horrible American who thinks that everything will be ok."
Monday, November 5, 2007
Porte le texte comme un chapeau
The actor wears a neutral mask.
They sleep, wake up, see the sunrise, and rise to standing with the sunrise.
Prof: "You move like you have Parkinsons. Too fast! Too idiot!"
"You move like a camel in the desert. Your head bobs up and down. The neutral mask did not get drunk last night or smoke hashish. The neutral mask is neutral. It goes to bed, it wakes up, and it gets up. Nothing else. When you move with the mask you bend your head like the virgin mary."
So.
The actor rises. Slowly. "Neutral." They attempt to suggest nothing.
Drum beat. The actor freezes. The mask is removed. Drum beat. The actor continues moving.
Now, the actor speaks. But the actor does not embody the text. The text is placed on top of the movement. The text follows the impulse of the body and never shapes it.
The actor is focused not on the text but the movement. The actor has the pleasure to put the text on the movement.
There is no life in the text. The text is text. The life is in the actor. If the actor cannot have life seperate from the text, then the actor is a zombie idiot servant to the text. The actor only knows how to make sense of text and break everybody's balls.
There is only life in the actor. And the actor's impulse. The impulse is not the text. The actor puts the text on the impulse. The actor wears the text like a hat.
They sleep, wake up, see the sunrise, and rise to standing with the sunrise.
Prof: "You move like you have Parkinsons. Too fast! Too idiot!"
"You move like a camel in the desert. Your head bobs up and down. The neutral mask did not get drunk last night or smoke hashish. The neutral mask is neutral. It goes to bed, it wakes up, and it gets up. Nothing else. When you move with the mask you bend your head like the virgin mary."
So.
The actor rises. Slowly. "Neutral." They attempt to suggest nothing.
Drum beat. The actor freezes. The mask is removed. Drum beat. The actor continues moving.
Now, the actor speaks. But the actor does not embody the text. The text is placed on top of the movement. The text follows the impulse of the body and never shapes it.
The actor is focused not on the text but the movement. The actor has the pleasure to put the text on the movement.
There is no life in the text. The text is text. The life is in the actor. If the actor cannot have life seperate from the text, then the actor is a zombie idiot servant to the text. The actor only knows how to make sense of text and break everybody's balls.
There is only life in the actor. And the actor's impulse. The impulse is not the text. The actor puts the text on the impulse. The actor wears the text like a hat.
Ugly in a Beautiful Way
Exercise:
Two actors onstage. A ball. One actor throws the other the ball. The actor who receives the ball thanks their partner and then turns their head to the audience. When they look at the audience, they must show in their eyes their special pleasure.”
We all go up. We are all terrible at this exercise.
Then She goes up. She tries twice the exercise.
Prof: “We hate her on the stage. No? Alors, we hate you on the stage madame. Continue.”
She: “No. I don’t want to do it again.”
Prof: “This is a problem. You are afraid to be bad?”
She: “No.”
Prof: “Why won’t you do the exercise again?”
She: “I want to be funny and I can’t.”
Prof: “You do not want to fail. You want to be good at the exercise. If you want to be good at everything you do, then go to a good drama school. You will learn how to be a good actor on the stage, like a mechanical doll. You will be clean. Your work will be clean and boring, like the Shaw Festival at Niagara on the Lake.
Students have to go through the tunnel of failure. This is the most important thing. You must get to know Mr. Flop. I am an expert in Mr Flop. I have flopped everywhere. Flopped in Spain, flopped in Switzerland, flopped in London, flopped in Denmark.
You go deep into the tunnel of the flop and then you keep going. Then, we start to love you. We love you when you are in the shit. But we hate you when you think you are being good. You bore us. You break our balls.
When students go through the tunnel of failure, when they meet Mr Flop and stay there, they come out with a special light in their eyes, a special pleasure in the voice. They can be ugly in a beautiful way.
It is only in this way that you can find your clown. You clown wants to be good but will fail over and over again. And we love when the clown fails. The clown only wants to be loved by us.
Well. That is all today. That is the end of the first workshop. Thank you.”
…..And so ends the first month of work with Monsieur le Professeur. And so begins my love affair with Mr Flop.
When have I ever been told to be bad? And yet here I am, forced to be bad, set up to be bad, over and over. And Christ I am so fucking bad. I have stood onstage, stared at a room of people, and felt myself turn scarlet with humiliation.
Better to be small and safe than to be loud and bad, right? Right? ….? right?
All of my precious fucking sentimentality about my work, my work, my work. In the bin. The ash heap
This is nuts.
Two actors onstage. A ball. One actor throws the other the ball. The actor who receives the ball thanks their partner and then turns their head to the audience. When they look at the audience, they must show in their eyes their special pleasure.”
We all go up. We are all terrible at this exercise.
Then She goes up. She tries twice the exercise.
Prof: “We hate her on the stage. No? Alors, we hate you on the stage madame. Continue.”
She: “No. I don’t want to do it again.”
Prof: “This is a problem. You are afraid to be bad?”
She: “No.”
Prof: “Why won’t you do the exercise again?”
She: “I want to be funny and I can’t.”
Prof: “You do not want to fail. You want to be good at the exercise. If you want to be good at everything you do, then go to a good drama school. You will learn how to be a good actor on the stage, like a mechanical doll. You will be clean. Your work will be clean and boring, like the Shaw Festival at Niagara on the Lake.
Students have to go through the tunnel of failure. This is the most important thing. You must get to know Mr. Flop. I am an expert in Mr Flop. I have flopped everywhere. Flopped in Spain, flopped in Switzerland, flopped in London, flopped in Denmark.
You go deep into the tunnel of the flop and then you keep going. Then, we start to love you. We love you when you are in the shit. But we hate you when you think you are being good. You bore us. You break our balls.
When students go through the tunnel of failure, when they meet Mr Flop and stay there, they come out with a special light in their eyes, a special pleasure in the voice. They can be ugly in a beautiful way.
It is only in this way that you can find your clown. You clown wants to be good but will fail over and over again. And we love when the clown fails. The clown only wants to be loved by us.
Well. That is all today. That is the end of the first workshop. Thank you.”
…..And so ends the first month of work with Monsieur le Professeur. And so begins my love affair with Mr Flop.
When have I ever been told to be bad? And yet here I am, forced to be bad, set up to be bad, over and over. And Christ I am so fucking bad. I have stood onstage, stared at a room of people, and felt myself turn scarlet with humiliation.
Better to be small and safe than to be loud and bad, right? Right? ….? right?
All of my precious fucking sentimentality about my work, my work, my work. In the bin. The ash heap
This is nuts.
Save your life
Everyone lines up onstage. You are about to be shot. The General screams “READY, AIM” Then you have one second to become beautiful and save your life.
We line up. Everyone gets executed except one girl who bursts into song. She is full and beautiful.
I get shot. Some get shot multiple times. One girl turns and offers to have her ass shot. I, personally, would have spared her.
We line up. Everyone gets executed except one girl who bursts into song. She is full and beautiful.
I get shot. Some get shot multiple times. One girl turns and offers to have her ass shot. I, personally, would have spared her.
Walls up or down?
Exercise: Go on the stage. You must be a rebel leader giving a speech. Not a fighter, not a hero. A leader. You don’t die with a gun, you die in your bed. You must charm us, sweep us into your revolution. Go.
The first student enters. He screams, he blusters, he is shut up by the Prof’s drum after a minute.
Prof: “Should we call the psychiatric hospital? Bon. Go to the hospital. As soon as possible. Would anyone be sorry if this person left the stage? No? Bon. Thank you for that horrible moment.”
I walk on the stage.
Prof: “He is nervous, no?” [Several students agree]. “The young kid from America is nervous. Go again. If you enter nervous, that is all for you today.”
Piece of cake.
So I enter again. By now, most of the room is laughing at me. The Prof turns on music. “The Star Spangled Banner.” It is oddly reassuring. I begin my speech. I picked a topic close to my heart. Everyone stops laughing and watches me. I am continuing my speech.
The Prof starts shouting instructions.
“Taller. TALLER. Walk towards us. TALLER. Walk backwards. Now shut up. Now speak. TALLER. Walk. Shut up. Speak. TALLER. Rise your arms. SLOWLY.”
This continues. Four minutes? Then I let my arms fall. The Prof cringes. He shuts of the music.
Prof “What was that movement, that fast movement? You killed it. You want to be natural on the stage. The stage is not natural. When you move too quickly, the audience cannot dream around you. But sometimes, you were very beautiful. You smile a lot. You want to be charming. We do not like you like this on the stage. Maybe in the life, but on the stage you do not need to try and charm us.”
I said before that I was building a wall around myself to try and stop pleasing people. But maybe what I need to do is lower a wall.
The first student enters. He screams, he blusters, he is shut up by the Prof’s drum after a minute.
Prof: “Should we call the psychiatric hospital? Bon. Go to the hospital. As soon as possible. Would anyone be sorry if this person left the stage? No? Bon. Thank you for that horrible moment.”
I walk on the stage.
Prof: “He is nervous, no?” [Several students agree]. “The young kid from America is nervous. Go again. If you enter nervous, that is all for you today.”
Piece of cake.
So I enter again. By now, most of the room is laughing at me. The Prof turns on music. “The Star Spangled Banner.” It is oddly reassuring. I begin my speech. I picked a topic close to my heart. Everyone stops laughing and watches me. I am continuing my speech.
The Prof starts shouting instructions.
“Taller. TALLER. Walk towards us. TALLER. Walk backwards. Now shut up. Now speak. TALLER. Walk. Shut up. Speak. TALLER. Rise your arms. SLOWLY.”
This continues. Four minutes? Then I let my arms fall. The Prof cringes. He shuts of the music.
Prof “What was that movement, that fast movement? You killed it. You want to be natural on the stage. The stage is not natural. When you move too quickly, the audience cannot dream around you. But sometimes, you were very beautiful. You smile a lot. You want to be charming. We do not like you like this on the stage. Maybe in the life, but on the stage you do not need to try and charm us.”
I said before that I was building a wall around myself to try and stop pleasing people. But maybe what I need to do is lower a wall.
Dinner Guests
If you tell me that you are having a dinner and everyone there is so nice, so smart, I think I will never come. But tell me there is a dinner with this guy who strangled his grandmother, with this guy who likes to rob the jewellery story, then maybe I come
I never trust people who are always nice. Politicians. Or people who are always serious. Who never have a joke. These people come over for dinner and break my balls with some theory. People who think they know something.
That is why I love having actors for dinner, because they always have something for the fun, for the play. They never break my balls with stupid theories or boring speeches.
People who always have nice things to say are terrible. Epouvantable. I hate these people who say they are polite and then lie about how they are feeling, smile at people they don’t like. They are not polite. They are idiots.
I never trust people who are always nice. Politicians. Or people who are always serious. Who never have a joke. These people come over for dinner and break my balls with some theory. People who think they know something.
That is why I love having actors for dinner, because they always have something for the fun, for the play. They never break my balls with stupid theories or boring speeches.
People who always have nice things to say are terrible. Epouvantable. I hate these people who say they are polite and then lie about how they are feeling, smile at people they don’t like. They are not polite. They are idiots.
Bavarder avec le con
Etudiant de Con: “I really feel like the teacher doesn’t like you. Yesterday he said he didn’t like you. Why do you think he doesn’t like you?”
What I said: “Your feeling is wrong. It’s just his way of joking with me.”
What I wanted to say: “This is coming from the person whom the teacher compared to a Priest who just discovered he was a pedophile?”
Why do these doofs have to come into my life and aggravate my neuroses?
What I said: “Your feeling is wrong. It’s just his way of joking with me.”
What I wanted to say: “This is coming from the person whom the teacher compared to a Priest who just discovered he was a pedophile?”
Why do these doofs have to come into my life and aggravate my neuroses?
Exercise
Koraphus is the “leader.” He must lead the chorus of 7 people across the stage in a dance. He must make every chorus member feel they are part of the dance, the pleasure, that he loves them. They all must share this with the audience.
I go first. Koraphus. Shit. Well, think Marcella Harlan. Think Marcella.
He tells us to let him know if we do not like the music.
Prof starts the music. Big band music. Ok! I turn to Prof and give him thumbs up. He stops the music.
“WHY IS THE FUCKING YOUNG KID FROM AMERICA TURNING AROUND AND TELLING ME YES YES LIKE AN IDIOT? NO! NO! YOU MUST LOOK AT YOUR CHORUS AND FIND OUT IF THEY LIKE IT. START AGAIN.”
We start again. I make sure to look at everyone. I make fucking sure.
We move across the floor. We finish.
Prof: “Not so bad. I am disappointed. I don’t like you, young kid from America. I was really hoping I could say to you that you were terrible, that you thought you were in Iraq and you were destroying everything. But no. It was not too bad. But some times you looked like a gym teacher. Leading the class in exercises. This is very bad. This could get you a zero in the class. A red zero. Bon. Thank you.”
Another boy goes. They begin. They are stopped after just a few moments.
Prof: “Absoloutely terrible. You look like a bunch of hippies coming out of a vegetarian restaurant in India. You all just smoked too much hashish. Bon. And you, the leader, you still look like a pedophile. A pedophile leading a bunch of children back to his house. Come children! Come play! This way! Alors. You are a pedophile leading a bunch of hippie children out of a vegetarian restaurant, back to your house after smoking too much hashish. Bon.”
I go first. Koraphus. Shit. Well, think Marcella Harlan. Think Marcella.
He tells us to let him know if we do not like the music.
Prof starts the music. Big band music. Ok! I turn to Prof and give him thumbs up. He stops the music.
“WHY IS THE FUCKING YOUNG KID FROM AMERICA TURNING AROUND AND TELLING ME YES YES LIKE AN IDIOT? NO! NO! YOU MUST LOOK AT YOUR CHORUS AND FIND OUT IF THEY LIKE IT. START AGAIN.”
We start again. I make sure to look at everyone. I make fucking sure.
We move across the floor. We finish.
Prof: “Not so bad. I am disappointed. I don’t like you, young kid from America. I was really hoping I could say to you that you were terrible, that you thought you were in Iraq and you were destroying everything. But no. It was not too bad. But some times you looked like a gym teacher. Leading the class in exercises. This is very bad. This could get you a zero in the class. A red zero. Bon. Thank you.”
Another boy goes. They begin. They are stopped after just a few moments.
Prof: “Absoloutely terrible. You look like a bunch of hippies coming out of a vegetarian restaurant in India. You all just smoked too much hashish. Bon. And you, the leader, you still look like a pedophile. A pedophile leading a bunch of children back to his house. Come children! Come play! This way! Alors. You are a pedophile leading a bunch of hippie children out of a vegetarian restaurant, back to your house after smoking too much hashish. Bon.”
Woof Woof Woof
The Cabaret exercise from yesterday. A girl on the stage. She speaks a poem.
Prof: “You have a large body. A monster body. Why do you go onstage and act like a cute little girl? You bend your body. You make yourself like a hairdresser’s poodle. The ones who shit on the sidewalk. Little green piles of shit. Get off the stage.”
The Girl screams with fury. She explodes. Tears running down her face.
Prof: “STAND TALLER. SPEAK YOUR POEM AGAIN.”
She begins again. Her voice a register lower. I can’t help but think she really is on her throat right now….Harlan shut up.
Prof: “NO YOU ARE MAKING YOURSELF SMALL AGAIN”
The Girl screams louder, she explodes with rage and tears.
Prof: “Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!”
The Girl is furious and defiant. She speaks her poem.
Prof: “Woof! Woof! Woof!”
She grows larger, more furious, she struggles. The minutes go by. He won’t stop barking at her. Not a big loud bark. A little nagging insistent one.
“woof woof woof woof woof!”
She resists him. His mocking rumbling bark.
“Woof woof woof woof”
Finally….it is over. The girl is exhausted. We all are exhausted.
Prof: “You make yourself small. You pretend that you are a little girl. But you are a beautiful monster. You hide. You hide this and you make yourself like a little poodle who pisses on the floor of the hair salon.”
Prof: “You have a large body. A monster body. Why do you go onstage and act like a cute little girl? You bend your body. You make yourself like a hairdresser’s poodle. The ones who shit on the sidewalk. Little green piles of shit. Get off the stage.”
The Girl screams with fury. She explodes. Tears running down her face.
Prof: “STAND TALLER. SPEAK YOUR POEM AGAIN.”
She begins again. Her voice a register lower. I can’t help but think she really is on her throat right now….Harlan shut up.
Prof: “NO YOU ARE MAKING YOURSELF SMALL AGAIN”
The Girl screams louder, she explodes with rage and tears.
Prof: “Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!”
The Girl is furious and defiant. She speaks her poem.
Prof: “Woof! Woof! Woof!”
She grows larger, more furious, she struggles. The minutes go by. He won’t stop barking at her. Not a big loud bark. A little nagging insistent one.
“woof woof woof woof woof!”
She resists him. His mocking rumbling bark.
“Woof woof woof woof”
Finally….it is over. The girl is exhausted. We all are exhausted.
Prof: “You make yourself small. You pretend that you are a little girl. But you are a beautiful monster. You hide. You hide this and you make yourself like a little poodle who pisses on the floor of the hair salon.”
Beautiful
Exercise:
We all sit in a cabaret. An actor must take the stage and introduce the next act. We must love them.
Then the act must come out and sing a song or recite a poem. If we think they are beautiful, a symphony of pleasure, then we order champagne. If we think they are top level boring, we order a diet coke.
And so the performer sings.
“You look angry when you sing. You make an ugly face. You are not here with us, with the audience. Wink to the audience while you sing, send a message. After the song is over, the people you wink to must be wanting to fuck you.”
And so the performer sings again.
“Did you think he wanted to fuck you, or do you think oh lalala I need a coffee?”
“Be beautiful on the stage. You move to fast. You do not take time to be with us, to let us fall in love with you. You move too much and you destroy what is beautiful about you on the stage.”
A girl comes on the stage and is beautiful. We all know it. Everyone knows it. She was simple, direct, and open.
“She was beautiful, no?”
“But you, you were terrible. Waiter, six diet cokes.”
We all sit in a cabaret. An actor must take the stage and introduce the next act. We must love them.
Then the act must come out and sing a song or recite a poem. If we think they are beautiful, a symphony of pleasure, then we order champagne. If we think they are top level boring, we order a diet coke.
And so the performer sings.
“You look angry when you sing. You make an ugly face. You are not here with us, with the audience. Wink to the audience while you sing, send a message. After the song is over, the people you wink to must be wanting to fuck you.”
And so the performer sings again.
“Did you think he wanted to fuck you, or do you think oh lalala I need a coffee?”
“Be beautiful on the stage. You move to fast. You do not take time to be with us, to let us fall in love with you. You move too much and you destroy what is beautiful about you on the stage.”
A girl comes on the stage and is beautiful. We all know it. Everyone knows it. She was simple, direct, and open.
“She was beautiful, no?”
“But you, you were terrible. Waiter, six diet cokes.”
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