An Academy Interlude: One Foot at a Time

by Teresa Marie Doran,  Academy Student

Each Wednesday night in Archetypes class, we have the privilege of spending three hours getting out of our heads and into the bodies of some of the most iconic characters in Greco-Roman, Elizabethan, Jacobean, and Modern theater. No matter what the evening brings -be it Masks, Commedia, tension-focus exercises, textual analysis or scene work, John and Geoffrey create an atmosphere of trust in which we can let loose and play. 

AC (Antaeus Company): Why Archetypes?

Geoffrey Wade teaches Classics: Archetypes – photo by K. Canavan

TD (Teresa Doran): Last week in class Geoffrey said, “It is the actor’s job to serve the playwright.” John then added, “And it is the job of both the playwright and the actor to serve the audience.” The responsibility of the actor is to communicate a story to the audience in the clearest and most effective way. Archetypes are among every actor’s best tools for doing just that. They represent character patterns that have stood the test of time. Traits that people recognize and relate to almost immediately. Through archetypes, the audience sees familiar faces; the mean girl from high school, the snooty next-door neighbor, the mother, father, sister, brother.  

AC: Why Antaeus? 

TD: Being new to LA I was lucky to join Antaeus Academy. Not only has this class quenched my thirst for the classics but it’s also introduced me to a community of like-minded artists. John and Geoffrey are wonderful. It’s been a privilege having two teachers – with two distinct opinions – teaching at once. Their incredible experience as performers has made their lessons both extremely informative and a lot of fun.

AC: What was challenging about the class? 

Teresa in class – photo by K. Canavan

TD: Working on the role of Medea. She seemed, at first, to be the most distant or iconic character I have yet to face. After approaching the text, memorizing, and deciding which archetypes I assimilated with her, I played under the guidance of John and Geoffrey to build her “from the feet up.”  -a phrase which has become almost a class mantra – and not surprisingly a useful tactic in helping me take on the feat of stepping into Medea’s archetypal shoes.

AC: What do you take away from this class?

TD: Consideration of Archetypes when I approach a text. I  recognize that there are incredible specific truths to be discovered within the broad brushstroke that is a character’s “type.”   Archetypes define initial truths about a character – a foundation or framework that when laid allows an actor to dig deeper and create a more specific image for the audience.  Investigating Archetypes doesn’t do all the work for you, you still have to paint your specific portrayal … but it gives a solid foundation beneath you and there are great advantages in building from there. (“From the feet up!”  )

Academy member Teresa Marie Doran puts on her acting pants the same as everyone else.  She is currently enrolled in our Classics: Archetypes class, which meets Wednesday evenings this Spring.  Lead Moderators: John Achorn & Geoffrey Wade.  For more information on the Antaeus Academy, please visit our website: www.antaeus.org/theacademy.html

Quark & Hot Tooth direct THE CRUCIBLE

Co-Directors Geoffrey Wade & Armin Shimerman discuss their process and relationship in this very very silly video by Etta Devine & Gabe Diani

An Academy Interlude: I Have No Idea What I’m Doing

by Nick Healy, Academy Student

Let me begin by saying that I have no idea what I’m doing.

Nick in class (wearing a very appropriate shirt) with J. Apicella moderating. Photo by K. Canavan

I’ve never written a blog. English essays, college applications, emails, yes, but never a blog—and certainly never anything for public consumption. Nevertheless, the Powers That Be thought that my perspective as the youngest student in the Archetypes Class would be at least not uninteresting, so I said I’d give it a shot. With that in mind, please bear with me as I try to make the next few paragraphs as fun and painless as possible for the both of us.

Basically, I’m an eighteen year-old high school student trying to keep up with twenty professional actors. My acting experience is limited, to say the least; and that’s to say nothing of my never having even heard of half of the playwrights from whose works we are choosing scenes. Take Beaumarchais—until Wikipedia told me otherwise, five years of French led me to believe his name was Bon Marché. I know (or think I know) Shakespeare, Chekhov, Mamet, Williams and some Sophocles, but give me a Shaw or a Plautian scene, or a character who embodies different Commedia archetypes at different times, and suddenly I devolve from the hot-shot high-schooler into the caveman rubbing two sticks together in hopes of a spark.

Nick NOT botching The Cherry Orchard

I decided to audition for the Academy after a like-minded friend emailed me the Spring Antaeus Academy audition bulletin with “Let’s consider this?” as the subject heading. We were finishing a production of The Cherry Orchard at school, and with the student-written/acted/directed Playwright’s Festival not long afterwards, I did not have an unlimited amount of free-time to spend walking around as Aphrodite; nevertheless, I immediately decided to audition. Having just botched my way through my first Chekhov, the notion that a character could be understood and crafted in terms of simple, established cultural constructs appealed to me enormously.

Fast-forward one month to the first class. At the requests of John and Geoff, our instructors, we each performed for the group the classical monologue that got us into the Academy. Watching these speeches was its own course on the art of the monologue. Everyone at once conveyed a sense of character, of continuity between the past, present and future and an in-the-moment vitality that seemed effortless. Meanwhile, in Nick Land, I struggled to maintain focus while vomiting out would-be poetry. Don’t think I am overly harsh—I am very proud of my work on that soliloquy (Hal’s “I know you all, but will awhile uphold”), and of having placed into the Academy in the first place, but, and sorry for mixing metaphors, there’s nothing that puts you on your toes quite like being thrown in over your head.

None of this—my lack of experience, the intimidating talent of my classmates, of my teachers, of the institution itself—none of it weakens my resolve to do the work, to, as they say, fight the good fight. On the contrary, studying at Antaeus is liberating because of my relative inexpertise. “Failure” means nothing in a room full of experts willing to instruct, so in class I should err freely on the side opposite caution. To do otherwise would be a waste of time and money.

Something happened after class this past Wednesday that speaks volumes about the supportive environment at Antaeus.  John stopped me as I was leaving the theater. I had struggled that evening with a scene from The Revenger’s Tragedy by Middleton (or Tourneur—nobody knows!).  To cure my stylistic ignorance, Geoff and John spent much time explaining in depth the nature of Jacobean drama.

John Achorn teaches Commedia. Photo by G. Wade

Of course, the scene then immediately made perfect sense.

“Did you understand all of that?” John kindly asked, obviously sincere. Before I could say yes and thank him for the earlier discussion, he continued, “’Cause we’re not giving you the A B C’s here. We’re just jumping in.” I agreed with a somewhat exaggerated, self-deprecating laugh.

A silence. Then, his eyes pointed straight at me, “But you are keeping up just fine. I’m proud of you, man.”

Academy member Nick Healy admits to the fears that every actor faces on a daily basis.  He is currently enrolled in our Classics: Archetypes class, which meets Wednesday evenings this Spring.  Lead Moderators: John Achorn & Geoffrey Wade.  For more information on the Antaeus Academy, please visit our website: www.antaeus.org/theacademy.html

I Was a Teenage Whore

by Nicole Erb, A2 Ensemble Member

Nicole Erb in our Classical Styles class. Photo by G. Wade

Now that the title of this post has your attention- I know what you’re thinking. Ugh. ANOTHER production of The Crucible. Are you kidding me? I’ve seen that play a billion times (not a hyperbole). So why, oh why, would Antaeus make it part of their season? The answer is pretty simple. It’s a story we still need to hear. Really.

You’re saying to yourself, “But Nicole, every time I see The Crucible I just start thinking about that Monty Python bit where they’re screaming about witches.

I know! I totally get it- it’s really hard not to equate ducks with witches. Or you say, “But I saw the ‘quintessential’ Crucible with blah blah blah and I don’t think I’ll ever see a good production again.”  I get it. I actually saw Liam Neeson (pre-his punching wolves in the face and destroying terrorists phase) and Laura Linney as John and Elizabeth. I cried the whole time. The back wall of the set was made of window panes and as the world of the play got crazier and crazier, the panes began to fall and shatter. At the end of the play, all the remaining panes crashed to the floor and shattered. This production is one of the reasons I decided I wanted to be an actor.

So why are we doing it? The Crucible remains a story that reverberates in our world. And it’s a great big giant ensemble story (for a great big giant ensemble company). For those of you who think The Crucible is stale, consider this; we, as a nation, have seen a whole lot of violence and pain in the last couple of weeks. As a response, this TED talk started floating around the social media sites. It’s a lecture by Philip Zimbardo on ‘The Nature of Evil’.

Zimbardo’s “The Nature of Evil”

The Poppet. Photo by A. Goodman

Mr. Zimbardo has found  that evil is born of the intersecting of three different things: 1) personality (Abigail Williams is a teenager in an incredibly violent world, who understands the value of power) 2) environmental (Salem is a town that still lives in both colonial and Puritanical levels of fear of Indians, God, the Devil, famine, plague, etc.) 3) institutional (the conventions of Puritan society, the management of the trials themselves- the Salem witch trials are the only trials of the time where spectral evidence is allowed). This isn’t just a philosophical rambling- it’s integral to understanding both how societies create evil like the witch trials and how we’ve managed to let it happen time and time again.

Is this all too general and highfalutin’ for you? Think these characters are unrealistic? Then let’s get specific. Go back a couple weeks ago- a letter was leaked to the internet from a crazed Delta Gamma sorority president to everyone in her chapter. If you haven’t read or seen a dramatic reading of it at this point, you probably need to watch Michael Shannon’s dramatic reading (I’d even call it the “quintessential” dramatic reading of the letter).

Sorority Letter by Michael Shannon

I find myself completely surprised by the letter. When I first saw Michael Shannon’s take on the whole thing I thought, “Wow. That girl is nuts. Straight up crazy.” But when I went back and actually read the letter, I realized that even though an insane tone is being used some of what she says is probably pretty on point.

Act One of The Crucible. Photo by P. Proctor

To get back to The Crucible- I couldn’t get Abigail’s speech to the girls in Act One out of my head. Is bringing a pointy reckoning really that different from asking someone to “tie themselves down to a chair and punch themselves in the face”? In contemporary terms it’s fairly close. And this comforts me IMMENSELY. I’ve been fighting a real battle to not make Abigail a total monster- a portrait of evil. That’s what she becomes, not what she starts out to be.  You have to keep in mind, she’s a queen bee in Salem, she’s had a REALLY hard life (Indians, smashed heads), she thinks John Proctor is going to leave his wife for her, AND she’s a child (17 in the show and 11 in real life). All these things create a perfect storm of personal crap, opportunity, and pressure. As wrong as the girl who wrote the Delta Gamma letter was, you can hear the personal stress that she is under. There’s something there that (as nutty as it is) I can empathize with- that’s how I begin to see Abigail as something other than a complete monster.

Get to the point, Erb! What I’ve been attempting to get out is that Miller’s world and our own are not that different. I’d like to think that we’ve changed a lot since the Salem Witch trials and the McCarthy hearings, but I’m not sure that we’re that fundamentally different. Human psychology is tricky that way. And what The Crucible gets at, at the most basic level, is that mounting pressure and fear.

Ann Putnam puts it best: “There are wheels within wheels in this village, and fires within fires!” Everything is conspiring against this town and these people. And in spite of that we hope. John Proctor changes. Rebecca Nurse and Giles Corey stand for their principles. It’s a level of heroism that we aspire to in modern day. But when we can’t get it in life, isn’t it great to see it in the theater? I hope that you find yourself thinking John Proctor will triumph. I hope for the sake of Salem that one night the heroes win.

A2 Ensemble member Nicole Erb draws back the curtain on rehearsals for The Crucible, our next mainstage production opening May 16 & 17. Tickets now on sale at www.antaeus.org

An Academy Interlude: Mother & Daughter

“ Why did you do that??-I can’t believe it, what is wrong with you?!,” my daughter is screeching at me, incensed that I have made a plan that involves her and I am about to holler back that she doesn’t have to go when suddenly I say excitedly, “That’s it –that’s the moment.”

“What are you talking about?”, she narrows her eyes.

Daughter & Mom Then

“What Rob said in class…for our “Delicate Balance” scene that’s how pissed Julia is at Agnes- like you at me now.”

At this point most observers would probably be appalled at this mothering style- but I am merely doing what comes naturally- honestly calling the attention of my teenager to the nitty-gritty emotion locomotive as it tears through the room, and teaching her to mine it for some art. It’s what I’ve been doing since I myself was a teenager and first started studying acting- applying mindfulness to the feelings that play us and turn us into instruments.

Delilah Napier

If you had told me when Delilah was a child that we would both be actors in a scene class together I would have resolved myself into a disbelieving dew and said, “I’m not that crazy…” but life takes its turns and we find ourselves in places we did not expect- like L.A.  I am a set in her ways New York theater rat, maybe on good days a mink, too accustomed to subways and bookish black box immortal shadows to be entirely comfortable with the Light. Action. let alone the Cameras of L.A. Imagine then the deeply orienting, flickering beacon that is Antaeus as we navigate the choppy waters of this new world-where there is even an inviting library-row upon row of shelves housing plays with well-worn spines.

Cut to: INTERIOR-NIGHT

A MOTHER and DAUGHTER sit in a black box theater in North Hollywood amongst actors trained in theater, many earning their livings in television.

ROB NAGLE is on stage twisting his body into an impression of the Antaeus logo- A man firmly planted on the ground reaching forcefully towards the sky…

“Who is Antaeus?” he asks, and explains that in Greek Mythology he is the half-giant son of Poseidon and Gaia, who derives his super human strength through his contact with mother Earth. He is insuperable until Heracles discovers his secret and holds him high in the air and crushes him as his strength drains away.  Rob springs up, smiles impishly and reads to us from “Tom: The Unknown Tennessee Williams”-reconnecting us to our hallowed theater earth.

Mom & Daughter Now

The next week my daughter and I will work on Amanda and Laura from” The Glass Menagerie”. I am an actor like any other but here, now in this iconic scene, in this class, with Rob’s help, I can realize the Gaia in myself-by reconnecting with my roots I can find the strength to pass on this art to my daughter-this wild mix of earth and spirit that is acting.

The impish AND puckish Rob Nagle. Photo by G. Wade

We have found a home for serious play. As we rework the scene with Rob encouraging us to blow every last bit of dust off our conception of these classic characters, he puckishly places himself on the wall of our scene; Williams describes the set as being dominated by a large photograph of the absent pater familias-and before our eyes Rob plasters himself against the stage right wall and becomes the portrait of Tom Wingfield Sr.-suddenly the father is no mere ghost but a living breathing presence in our scene! Talk about connecting us to the earth and the present moment! I am filled with gratefulness to be in this room right now. There are sun-soaked days of late when I can feel weary as something of youth seems to fall away-my daughter’s as she enters young adulthood, my own as I stare down the throat of middle age, but here, in this class we can find the common ground of theater, where we seek the paths to eternally becoming and where we remain ageless. Rob embodies the spirit held aloft as an ideal by my late-great theater teacher, Herbert Berghof, in whose studio I met my husband doing a Williams scene! On the walls of the H.B Studio, Herbert had framed a favorite quotation of his late-great theater teacher Max Reinhardt, “I believe in the immortality of the theatre…it is a joyous place for all those who secretly put their childhood in their pockets and ran away to play to the end of their days.”

Thank you, Rob. Thank you, Antaeus, for providing us with an authentic place to play.

Academy member Alexandra Napier shares a very unique experience with her daughter Delilah Napier in our Classics: Rebs/Yanks class, which meets Tuesday evenings this Spring.  Lead Moderators: Rob Nagle.  For more information on the Antaeus Academy, please visit our website: www.antaeus.org/theacademy.html

In Search of Lost Lines: Prepping for THE CRUCIBLE

by John Allee
Company Member

The nightly email from our stage manager Kimberly arrives in my inbox.  It’s the usual heads up for the next day’s rehearsal, outlining which scenes we will be working on and which actors are called at what times.  And because I am generally conscientious and thorough, also because we have been reminded (if not actually admonished) to scroll all the way down to the very bottom of each production missive, I dutifully read through to the end, where the dreaded words leap out at me as if from some dark and sinister Middle-earth forest:

IMPORTANT DATES: **THURSDAY APRIL 11TH: OFF BOOK.

For the uninitiated, this item simply means that the directors’ battle plan calls for the actors to be rehearsing without their scripts in hand by the date given.  Sounds fair enough.  After all, we attend the theater expecting that the actors will have their lines memorized for the performance and that it only makes sense that at some point in the rehearsal process they have to actually make the transition from page to stage.  But, why April 11^th?  Doesn’t that seem awfully soon?  After all, it’s already March 29th and I am having difficulty memorizing the first two pages.  I dare not go before them — no wait – I dare not be taken unaware when I go before them…

John Allee, The Malcontent, post off book & looking rather confident

As an actor, perhaps the most common question I get asked by people who are not is “how do you memorize all those lines?”  It’s a reasonable question, certainly, and one that actors don’t give much thought to, other than to fret about when they are going to memorize all those lines.  But, in much the same way I might wonder how an economist can stand in front of a group of people and extemporize on the finer points of Post-Keynesian macroeconomic rigidities and adjustment processes, someone else might not easily grasp that having the ability to ingest vast amounts of dialogue and regurgitate it all is part of our skill set.  At the moment, that someone is me.

No Heath Bar, John? For shame.

The trick now is to invoke a Proustian involuntary memory – what was it – eating tea soaked cake?  I settle for a half a pint of Ben and Jerry’s coffee ice cream.  But what memories will it bring up, the next ten pages of the scene that I am beating into my head with a ball-peen hammer, or childhood memories of my auntie?  Or will it merely keep me awake all night worrying about the lines I still have yet to memorize?

Proust also warned that escaping to the past cannot completely soothe one’s suffering in the present.  Given that the present is now the morning of April 11th and we are to be off-book today, I would be willing to take my chances with time travel if even for a modicum of relief from my current state of peril.  As I drive to the theatre for rehearsal, my mind is racing faster than my six-cylinder engine, and the feeling of apprehension is pressing down harder than my foot on the accelerator.  Though, why I am in such a hurry to get to my destination is difficult to understand, given my conflicting desire to run away from it.  I practice the lines in the car, and for one panic-stricken minute it seems as though all memory has evaporated, like the mist on the windshield as I propel myself forward, further away from the past, but remembering now, suddenly, involuntarily, that I will not be taken unaware as I go before them.

John Allee - Antaeus member, Tolkien reader and one of our Reverend Parrises – bemoans the actor’s process… at least the boring bits.  We hope he’s learned his lines by now, since  The Crucible goes into tech next week and opens May 16 & 17. Tickets now on sale at www.antaeus.org

Proctor & The Crucible

Mr. Proctor in the CFest 2012 reading of The Crucible. Photo by K. Flaathen

by Phil Proctor
Company Member

I’ve been asked to write something about the rehearsal process we are presently experiencing in exploring and mounting Arthur Miller’s masterpiece The Crucible.  So, okay, here goes.

It’s a nightmare – for me, anyway. I’m sharing the role of the old, irascible farmer Giles Corey with the loveable, even-tempered Steve Hofvendahl, but I am the only authentic PROCTOR in the cast, and whether or not I am a direct descendant of John Proctor (NOT played by ME – go figure), it’s not easy sitting in the theatre and hearing my name thrown around like a bale of hay every day!

Dueling Proctors.

Furthermore, not only are two wonderful Antaeans playing ME, (Bo Foxworth and Chris Guilmet) but they are being guided in the process by two brilliant directors, Armin Shimerman and Geoffrey Wade (alphabetical billing) who are annoyingly in sync when it comes to blocking and interpretation.  Unlike “The Scottish Play”, there is very little stage blood shed – so far — and as I believe this is the first time Antaeus has doubled directors, it seems to be going smoothly. Furthermore, the players get the advantage of Armin’s keen dramaturgy and Geoff’s theatre-games warm-ups.

The Weber twins celebrate their birthday!

But it is also a little disconcerting that even our stage managers are doubled – and by IDENTICAL TWINS, no less — Kimberly and Kristin Weber!

The dramatic design of this production is based on the Classicsfest reading initiated by Bo Foxworth and Ann Noble, and involves a challenging “full-frontal” presentation with occasional character interaction as dictated by dramatic necessity.  Sounds mysterious, doesn’t it?  Well, it is, and as we all are just beginning the staging process, we are also all part of the excitement of discovery and experimentation, in the proud tradition of our skilled company of classical masters. Miller’s language is exotic and poetic at times, so Geoff and Armin wisely insist that we honor the words and treat the text as we would if it were by Shakespeare.

It’s also a wonderfully diverse cast, and in addition, the gender-blind casting presents a unique challenge in assuring that characters are addressed in a manner that works for males and females, depending on who’s playing what role in any particular performance.

He’s not kidding, folks.

And finally, in another ironic twist for me, our costume designer, E. B. Brooks, is using Amish-style clothing as inspiration for the look of the show, and being a Yoder of Amish-Irish ancestry on my mother’s side, I probably have an Amish hat or two from Shipshewana, near my home town of Goshen, Indiana, to contribute to the cause.

So, off we go!  These are, of course, just my first impressions as we embark on another great theatrical adventure together; and I’m looking forward to seeing what my fellow cast members think as we continue to revitalize this timely and timeless work as only we Antaeans can…

Antaeus member Phil Proctor draws back the curtain on rehearsals for The Crucible, our next mainstage production opening May 16 & 17. Tickets now on sale at www.antaeus.org