The Compton Players' NEWSLETTER NOVEMBER 2003

Contents

Down to work
Oh yes we will!
Peter Monger 1923-2003
The Method
Beware of sharp objects
So that's why it's called a ...
News of members
Next newsletter
CP Calendar

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Down to work

We were all saddened to hear of the death of Peter Monger, who was a mainstay of Compton Players for many years. Eric spoke at his funeral, and has written an obituary. Apart from that, it’s a short newsletter this time, with words of encouragement from Tracey and an article about method acting from Rob. The panto is progressing well, and at the time of writing we have managed to recruit a small tribe of Wachu warriors (or should that be a tribe of small Wachu warriors?). If we don’t see you at the rehearsals, have a good Christmas and New Year.

Oh yes we will

Tracey's rallying call to the troops.

Already it's time to put those scripts down and really get our teeth into this panto. I'd like to thank everybody for their enthusiasm so far................................ and beg you all to continue with it.

As we begin to rehearse whole Acts some of you may get a little fed up with coming along to rehearsal, to sit around and then only say three or four lines; I'm afraid that is just the way it has to be from now on. Please, please, please arrive for a 7.30pm start; I would like to rehearse each Act twice in one night and none of us likes late finishes!! Dave Hawkins is at the Hall from 7pm, boiling the kettle, setting the stage and warming up the heating, so if you are able, please arrive a little earlier to give him a hand. It would be very much appreciated!

Thank you all again for your efforts; all your hard work will pay off in the end - I promise this is going to be fun.....fun....... and MORE FUN!!

'The actors today really need the whip hand. They're so lazy. They haven't got the sense of pride in their profession that the less socially elevated musical comedy and music hall people or acrobats have. The theatre has never been any good since the actors became gentlemen. '
W. H. Auden.

Peter Monger 1923-2003

An obituary by Eric.

Peter died recently after a battle with Alzheimer's, which is particularly sad for one who was always the first to learn his lines and put down the script. Now that he has laid down the script for the last time, it is fitting to remember him as word perfect.

For many years Peter simply was Compton Players. At one time it was difficult to imagine a production which did not feature him as a member of the cast. But he was much more than that. His job in the Trustee Savings Bank made him a natural choice to take on the responsibilities of looking after the society's finances. He took this job very seriously, keeping a wary eye on many a production budget. It is largely due to his work in the early days in keeping the society solvent that we are in such a healthy state today. He was against the idea of giving away programmes, but when outvoted, he put out a donation box beside them on the table. Needless to say, this brought in far more money than charging for them ever did. He was always there on set building mornings, and never missed the clearing up on the Sunday morning afterwards. He organised the Box Office, with Pam, and saw to the printing of tickets and posters. He even arranged transport for the scenery to and from wherever it was stored, even before we had the trailer at the hut.

Compton audiences first saw him as a fresh faced youth in Suspect in 1950, and by 1987 the local paper was celebrating 'the seemingly ageless' doyen of the company in his 50th production, as Henry, in Ghost on Tiptoe. He had progressed from playing lightweight one-dimensional characters into a 'relaxed and versatile actor'. Not only did he know his lines before anyone else, he usually knew everyone else's as well.

Among his many memorable appearances I shall always remember his entrance as Heracles in The Rape of the Belt (1970), when he burst out of a stone built tower in a cloud of dust, dressed only in a lion skin, scattering the stage with large pieces of masonry (forty odd shoe boxes, sealed and stuffed with paper). Regular patrons knew him for a string of harassed, bewildered, and eccentric comedy characters, such as Frank (How the other Half Loves 1978), The Colonel (Dry Rot 1980), Teddy (Arsenic and Old Lace 1981), Lord Eldrood (Post Horn Gallop 1986) and many more.

Many producers have learned that if you cast Peter he would not let you down. He would be there whatever happened. He was even on stage the night Alison, his daughter, was born.

One of his personal favourite roles, which he remembered with affection, was that of Inspector Rough in Gaslight in 1976. Another was his last and perhaps finest role in Beyond Reasonable Doubt. He was justly proud of his performance, but confessed that he was beginning to find the lines harder to learn as he got older and he wanted to 'go out on a high'. He had a horror of having to receive a prompt.

And so he became our first and only life member to date, and was a regular in the audience until his progressive illness prevented it. Thank you, Peter, for giving us so many treasured memories both on stage and off.

Lights, Final Curtain, Applause.

The Method

Rob introduces us to the history of Method acting.

In 1948 Lee Strasberg became a member of the Actors' Studio in New York City. The Studio had been founded the previous year by three leading directors from cinema and theatre as a place where actors could work together to develop their skills without the pressures of a commercial environment. By 1950 Strasberg had become the artistic director of the studio, a position which he was to hold until his death in 1982.

Strasberg was born in 1901 in what was then part of the Austro-Hungarian empire but which is now part of Ukraine. He moved to America with his family at the age of seven and, like many of the poorer immigrants, the family settled in New York's Lower East Side. By the age of 15 he was taking part in local amateur productions and as a young adult he successfully entered the world of the professional theatre. In those early years he took lessons in acting at the American Laboratory Theatre from Richard Boteslavski and Maria Ouspenskaya who had both been pupils and colleagues of Konstantin Stanislavsky and continued to promote his theories. Those theories were to influence Strasberg for the remainder of his professional life.

Stanislavsky was an actor and director in Russia in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. From the beginning of his career he had found himself increasingly dissatisfied with the histrionic, showy, declamatory style of acting which was still commonly used at the end of the 19th century. Acting of that kind, he thought, often obscured the true depth and complexity of the characters being portrayed and, furthermore, often made them seem unreal and unconvincing. Stanislavsky also understood sooner then most directors of the day that the plays of the newer writers such as Chekhov and Ibsen demanded a more subtle, naturalistic style of acting.

Stanislavsky believed that a good, convincing and naturalistic performance depended upon the actor having total understanding of and identification with the motivation of the character he was playing. To do this the actor had to be taught how to draw upon experiences in his or her own life, including painful ones buried in the subconscious.

It was that principle which Strasberg used as a foundation for the teaching ethos in the Actors' Studio. Actors were taught how to create a history and a background for the characters they were playing. Great stress was placed upon the value of improvisation -the argument being that once you fully understood and knew the character you were playing the improvisation would come to you readily. It would also help you to plumb even further the depths of the character you were playing.   It was these processes which became collectively known as 'The Method'. Those who used them were 'Method actors'.

Much of this may not seem to us to be particularly new and perhaps not all of it was, but we are viewing from a point fifty years further on from Strasberg's appointment. At the time, actors, including well-known names, flocked to the Actors' Studio. Over the years they have included Paul Newman, Shelley Winters, Robert de Niro and Marlon Brando. It was Brando who, with Rod Steiger, another member of the Studio, gave one of the most famous pieces of improvised dialogue on film: it was in the 1950s film On the Waterfront where Brando, as a failed would-be boxer has a conversation with his gangland/trade union boss elder brother in the back of an automobile. Fifteen minutes, all improvised at short notice by the two method actors.

Not everyone was enthusiastic about the Method. Some thought that it was a lot of fuss about the blindingly obvious and that, far from improving performances, it could damage them. Some directors disliked the Method school since they believed that if an actor was too influenced by it and followed his own inner impulses too much then the director's control of the production would be lost. Charles Laughton, directing Major Barbara on Broadway in 1956, approached Eli Wallach who was in the cast and growled, 'I don't want any of that Stanislavsky **** here'.

Others referred to it as the 'scratch and grunt school of acting' and it was certainly true that some its exponents, in striving for greater naturalism, seemed to forget that audiences need to hear what is being said and that if one talks too naturally then they probably won't. One or two well-known film actors started to become notorious in this respect.

It's probably fair to say that Strasberg was aware that naturalism could be carried too far even if some of his disciples were not. In his production of Antony and Cleopatra the actor Eli Wallach - again - rushed on stage during Cleopatra's soliloquy to give her news of Antony's wedding. Keen to give an air of naturalistic realism to the proceedings Wallach constantly tried to interrupt the actress playing Cleopatra, Katherine Cornell, until finally, in exasperation, she slapped his face hard and marched off the stage. 'What the hell kind of Method is that?' complained Wallach to Strasberg afterwards. The master shrugged. 'Know your cues', he said. Stanislavsky himself had always insisted that the individual actor should subordinate himself to the production as a whole.

In spite of the wilder excesses of some of its devotees however, the Method has been a good influence upon acting. Many directors, perhaps more in the professional theatre, find it useful to use the improvisation techniques in rehearsals to uncover unexpected nuances of character or of dramatic action. Perhaps, too, the Method has led to more realistic performances and perhaps we should all bear in mind when performing Stanislavsky's most damning criticism when he thought an actor was giving an inadequate portrayal of a character, 'I do not believe you!'

'You don't have to be neurotic in my game, but if you can't thrive on insecurity, you might as well give up ... my profession doesn't give up on you , if you don't give up on it. The parts change, unless you make the blunder of trying to seem younger.'
John Hurt, Radio Times, 7-13 April, 2001.

Beware of sharp objects

This extract from an article by Stefanie Marsh in The Times on 27/10/2003 suggests that Pa Riding in the Panto may have to replace his axe with a blunt, non-splintery thing - perhaps a baguette?

Is this a dagger I see before me? Or is it "an object which is designed for the purpose of inflicting bodily harm" and therefore unfit for the British stage? According to new guidelines published by the Health and Safety Executive, Macbeth, Thane of Cawdor, would do well to consult a qualified armourer and slip into some protective clothing before conjuring up a potentially dangerous sharpened object in the corridors of Dunsinane.

The guidance, which begins with a definition of the word "weapon", sets out to enlighten thespians on the "management" of props in theatre, film and television. No bureaucratic stone goes unturned. In a section entitled "Noise", the executive stumbles upon the truth that "firearms can produce very high levels" of it.

On page five of the document we learn that "it is worth noting that wood, plastic or rubber weapons may be hazardous if used in a stabbing or lunging mode".

Such perils are not confined to stabbing and lunging. "Splinters may be created," the document suggests, "if the action calls for the destruction of wooden axe handles."

Further consultation with experts has yielded the conclusion that standing in front of a loaded crossbow may carry serious health implications.

This is not the first time the health watchdog, which has a staff of 4,050 and a budget of £210 million, has been criticised for overzealous attention to detail or controversial recommendations. This year it has recommended that circus performers wear hard hats; threatened to prosecute a hospital trust because its staff were "stressed"; and proudly drew up the Vibration Directive, a proposal that will forbid farmers from sitting too long in vibrating tractors.

In a £3 million case this spring, the executive unsuccessfully prosecuted the Metropolitan Police Commissioner for failing to warn police officers of the dangers of climbing on roofs after an officer fell through and died while chasing a suspect. Had the executive been successful, it would have resulted in a ruling preventing officers pursuing criminals if they climb above head height.

The Management of Firearms and Other Weapons In Productions is one of 20 information pamphlets recently released in connection with the entertainment industry.

So that's why it's called a ...

Rob explains where the leotard comes from.

The leotard, that garment beloved of gymnasts, rehearsing ballet dancers, keep-fit enthusiasts and anyone else who feels like wearing one, owes its name to Jules Leotard, 1838-1870, who popularised its use.

He was the son of a gymnastics instructor in Paris and from an early age showed great gymnastic ability. He became an aerialist in a circus and was the man who invented the flying trapeze upon which he was said to show amazing agility and grace.

He also, when appearing at the Alhambra Music Hall in London in 1861, provided the inspiration for the song entitled 'The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze'.

And if you thought the tutu was named after Bishop Desmond, my dictionary says:

French, perhaps alteration of cucu, baby-talk reduplication of cul, buttocks.

'I am a typed director. If I made Cinderella, the audience would immediately be looking for a body in the coach.'
Alfred Hitchcock.

Next newsletter

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CP Calendar

'Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.'
Oscar Wilde.

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