Haha, an update!
If you hadn't heard, I went to the hospital Friday morning because of a strange pain in my chest. One chest x-ray and some EKG fun later, they had no idea what it was, but a pretty good idea of what it wasn't, namely my heart or a tumor. My doctor thought it might be acid reflux, and put me on some meds for acid. Today, I saw my new family doctor (and total badass), Dr. Klein, and he thought it was a muscle abnormality that was exacerbated by my chest naturally having a little indentation in it.
Kiss Me, Kate! is almost over, our final show being on the 30th. I've noticed something about working on a show with a run this long which I've also observed in a lesser extent during short runs. When everyone shows up on Friday for a weekend of song and dance, the joke is always "Oh man, here we go again, har har har," or "do we have to run it one more time, har har har."
Tycho, or Penny Arcade fame, describes how tabletop gamers often flip through books containing information on their friend's forces. Usually they see a particular model with particular abilities, and exclaim "that is bullshit!" But they don't really mean it is bullshit, but instead, as Tycho puts it, "mean that it's novel or interesting."
The sentiment to jokingly mock that which one will not only face, but relish the opportunity to do so, is probably not unique to geeks, actors and techies. I'm sure air traffic controllers come in to work and, while they pour themselves some coffee, grumble about work.
But the whole little ritual becomes so novel when actors partake in it. They usually are coming straight from their real job which may have ended only a couple of hours ago, and before which they probably made the same little "here we go again." Soon, they play will begin, and the actor, as Camus puts it, "travels the whole course of the dead-end path that the men in the audience take a lifetime to cover."
I suppose what I'm getting at is that I like it. I like that those about to lay bare the human condition gird themselves for doing so with the same brevity as a cab driver getting ready to start their day.
I suppose this could be the first part in a series of posts on why I have the best job in the world.
Point #1: I get to hang out with the navigators of human experience.
I've never really understood the notion that acting is uniquely connected to the human condition. This may be because my only acting experience was in a 2nd grade school play, but here's my thought:
ReplyDeleteActors are said to be experts on the human condition, I imagine, because they must deal with the psychological and emotional struggles of the characters they portray in order to be convincing. Better actors, then, are better at conceptualizing these things. This might be true, but I don't understand how this is unique. Wouldn't a competent reader also be able to conceptualize the characters' struggles from reading the play? Does seeing the characters acted really add an additional dimension to anyone's understanding? It's possible that, for the actor, this is the best way for them to grasp the material. This would be akin to auditory vs. visual learning; different presentations of the same information may be more or less effective at conveying its meaning. This does not mean, however, that one way is superior or unique to any other.
Also, THIS is the best job in the world:
http://abcnews.go.com/Business/story?id=7515432&page=1
I would argue that acting differs in how completely the actor is subsumed by their craft. To even prepare for a role, they'll do massive amounts of research, as well as lots of real-world experience. For example, if an actor is to portray a firefighter, they may interview real firefighters, or even ask if they may hang around a fire station.
ReplyDeleteHowever, all of this could be said for an excellent writer. You wouldn't have to look hard for a writer that has prepared for creating a work by doing much of the same research, both real-world and archival.
Where acting turns into a different monster is onstage. An entire world is created specifically to absorb them in their craft, filled with props and set pieces, and populated with other actors. What happens between the actor and this physical space, and, perhaps more importantly, other actors, is where acting becomes unique among the arts.
Once one show is over, the actor picks up and does the same thing, only with a new role that might be wildly different from the one they just played. The majority of actors can't pick work, so their range of work tends to get expansive.
That, I think, is where the association between acting and the human condition comes from. That actors not only show the world what it is like to live as many, many different people, but show it by /becoming/ those people.
A while back we talked about playing the violin, and you told me how even if a violinist is playing technically perfectly, if they lack emotion in their piece you can tell. In the same way, one can read about events and know them, and if the writer is an excellent one even feel for the characters involved. But humans are hard wired for empathy, and when that gets tapped into by a moving performance by a living, breathing person right in front of you, the effect is astounding.
Also, let us murder the man in the story you posted, and take turns wearing his skin and living his life.