The longest pause...

Harold Pinter died two days ago. I only found out last night from my news feed on the Facebook, of all places. <--Why is it Facebook seems to be the only way to know what is happening in people's lives? Recently, I had yet ANOTHER friend announce their engagement there before I heard it from them. What is that about? I confess to being just as addicted to the social networking site as much as anyone else, but for frak's sake people, pick a phone already. I want to hear it from you directly, not just because I spent my afternoon stalking you online.

Anyway.

I love Pinter, and I can honestly say that he was the second playwright to actually make me think about what theatre can do, and more specifically how text can shape an entire show/performance. I first read The Homecoming my freshman year in college, and before him no playwright had really left an impression on me other than Shakespeare, who by then I had been acquainted with for about six or seven years. Reading that play blew my mind, and for one of the first times I actually started thinking about how modern theatre could do exactly what classical theatre did for me, but in an entirely opposite way. They say that with Shakespeare the characters live on the line--most classical has this reputation, that there's no "internal life" necessarily, because everyone is running around telling the audience exactly how they feel all of the time, usually using beautiful imagery, etc. But then came Pinter and his pauses, where he showed you exactly how a character was feeling, but in a completely different way: by having them say nothing at all. Or by having them talk around what was happening, about things that didn't seem to be connected to the plot or stage action at all (which may have been one of the reasons The Birthday Party only played eight performances). Actors have to be completely grounded in those characters so it makes sense to them (and hopefully at least some of the audience) why they can do one thing on stage while saying something else. This seems like an obvious point for anyone who's had any kind of acting training, particularly when we talk about any play that we respect as having subtext. But I submit that often, especially with a writer like Pinter, this doesn't happen. Or doesn't happen fully, because he's pretty tough. (Another writer this happens with easily is Mamet, who by his own account seems to completely dismiss the actor in terms of the play, other than being a vessel for his {Mamet's} words. I think that's unfair: when Mamet's plays are done well, it's usually because the actors are smart enough and talented enough to actually understand what to do to make his text completely comprehensible to a spectator's ear. Otherwise, it could turn out to be a real mess. {Sorry Mamet, but fuck off.<--It's okay, he'd find that endearing.}) But when it does, oh what theatrical magic! What resonant moments that can happen on stage! What interesting stylistic choices! I just love it.

A more personal reason for lamenting the loss of Pinter is that this past October he was named president of Central, having also been an alumni of the institution. In a way, we belonged to him, and he belonged to the students who were running around in his old house, so to speak. We are meant to carry on the reputation of the school, part of which he established, and we thought he'd be around to shepherd us a bit. I'm sad we won't have that opportunity. I am interested to see what kind of memorial or tribute the school pays to him when we get back--he already has his name on one of the steps, so I'm sure that won't be it. I also wonder if his passing will re-inject his theatrical sensibility in any of the work my peers and I come to generate. Maybe the most fitting tribute would just be subjecting an audience to watching two characters stand in silence.

He might.

Like.

That.

Pinter.........................................................(pause)

Reading some Pinter lately, I was reminded of the letter that a woman wrote to him through a newspaper after seeing The Birthday Party for the first time during its 8 performance run when it first opened.

"I would be obliged if you would kindly explain to me the meaning of your play. These are the points which I do not understand:

1. Who are the two men?
2. Where did Stanley come from?
3. Were they all supposed to be normal?

You will appreciate that without the answers to my questions, I cannot fully understand your play."

Pinter's response was printed in the same paper:

"Dear Madam:

I would be obliged if you would kindly explain to me the meaning of your letter. These are the points which I do not understand:

1. Who are you?
   
2. Where do you come from?
3. Are you supposed to be normal?

You will understand that without the answers to my questions, I cannot fully understand your letter."

I love Pinter for so many reasons, but chief amongst them is this sense of complete lack of apology when it comes to his art. He made this great speech in 1962 about playwriting called "Writing for the Theatre," where he calls into question that need for a past to be shown in order to justify the actions or words that occur on stage.

He also makes a pretty interesting comment about communication later on:

"We have heard many times that tired, grimy phrase: 'Failure of communication'...and this phrase has been fixed to my work quite consistently. I believe the contrary. I think that we communicate only too well, in our silence, in what is unsaid, and that what takes place is a continual evasion, desperate rear-gaurd attempts to keep ourselves to ourselves. Communication is too alarming. To enter into someone else's life is too frightening. To disclose to others the poverty within us is too fearsome a possibility."

I think that idea of communication being alarming, the kind of responsibility that comes with attempting to reach some one while having to expose part of yourself to do it is something that handicaps a lot of actors, including myself. (I'll fess up further: life imitates art more and more these days, if you get my meaning.) In an art form where honesty is prized above everything, and often when artifice is required to tell a story that honesty is meant to illuminate, communication can get muddy. And particularly so when involving the past of a character.

Now, we can't discount the past totally--sometimes it does inform actions of the present. People are habitual, and don't really change. But if we've learned anything from Sarah Kane it's that sometimes events or actions (with her specifically: violence) don't have any reason behind them. They just occur. And then that's it.

So I guess the question now is: how much of my past will inform my life in England? Or how much of it will I let inform me? I'm trying to release my baggage, my demons--all of that--as much as possible before I go, but are there some things you just can't shake?

Surely geography plays a part. Sometimes I feel like being in this city I walk around in my past--associations with places remind me of so many people, many I don't know anymore. Lots of ghosts. And from whatever is attached to them, there comes a hesitation in my own communication-->not only in my art, which has suffered from my cowardice to be sure, but also in my day to day life. And I don't like it. So hopefully a new sense of space will cease some of this. I'll have to be closer to my true self just to understand my surroundings. But then, what's that supposed to be anyway? (My "true self," not my "surroundings," which are still a mystery as I don't know where I'll be living yet...)

Touching on the question of identity again: if I'm a person who thrives on a sense of tempered honesty, not only because of the nature of my chosen profession, but because of how I've let my past sit on my shoulders for so long, what am I? Maybe I should pull a Pinter and just disregard what has happened, because sometimes it's hard to remember your past, even what happened just this morning. Maybe I should disregard these questions for now, as they only keep me from finishing things I really really need to do, like my FASA. And also: having a quarter life crisis on your blog is so...stupid.

So I'm having a little breakdown. I'm trying to work through it, but please excuse these sorts of discussions for a little while longer. I'll get back on track, and finish blogging about Suzuki. Soon. Someday. I promise.

"...and I realized as I was talking, that I was boring myself."

That title is a phrase I have sadly uttered when recounting a couple bad dates to friends afterwards, where I realized I had been going on and on and on because the guy wasn't offering anything up, so I just kept talking, and at some point realized that I was even boring myself working so hard for a reaction. This is one of the many reasons why I never date.

After blogging CRAZY consistently at the beginning of this month, I went on a brief hiatis. Part of it had to do with my schedule, which did not allot for enough time to make a thoughtful blog entry, which I try to achieve when writing here. But another, larger part was:

Blogging about Suzuki bores me.

Now, don't get me wrong: Suzuki itself does not bore me. Not in the least. But the specificity it was taking to discuss the method made writing the entries not only remarkably time consuming, but also really really dull for me to write. I like discussing the theatre, I like discussing performance method, I like sharing what I learned, but these things I like doing IN PERSON. To put it here, to do it so much and in such a detailed, crazy way just makes me lose interest. I may go back and blog specific stuff, but not today, not right now, and maybe not ever. So don't hold your breath. But here's an overview of what I've been up to whilst away.

One: I bought my plane ticket. It actually cost about $120 less than I had anticipated, partly because I bought it through STA Travel, and acquired the below card, which is meant to get me discounted rates for various travel-type things. (And 10% off at the Mac store.)

Not the most fetching picture of me, true, but I was unaware that they'd be making the card up right then and there and had no other picture to give them.

I was so happy about the plane ticket being so cheap that I went to Forbidden Planet and bought this:

I still say I'm not a nerd, but probably just a fangirl. And it was only $6.99-->I needed it!

It also turns out that I will be able to go to my bff's wedding ceremony, but will need to leave IMMEDIATELY after pictures are taken, and go straight to the airport to make my flight. Intense.

Two: I cut Suzuki Monday night to do a scene for my roommate's directing class at HB Studios. I haven't acted in a while, despite my prowess as a GPS unit, and it was both fun and foreign to go back to a script and try to build a character and whatnot. It was the first scene in Proof, a play I love and would kill to be in. I actually played Catherine in another friend's scene in college, so it was fun to revisit her in a different place. Maybe someday I'll play the whole thing...

Three: I did more Suzuki. Tuesday and Thursday night, I was back, marching, slow tempo-ing, and learning a dance that dealt very interestingly with focus. I will try to backlog these later, but again: I just don't feel like doing it right now.

Four: I talked to someone who knows better. I went to see Hamlet this past Saturday, and after being rescued by my friend Tim, an electrician at the Public who brought me to the electrician's office to wait out the rain, he invited me to go for drinks with the crew once the show was called. An older actor in the cast, who's pretty successful on the NY boards but who will remain nameless here because name dropping annoying, stopped into the bar where we were at and sat next to us. Tim introduced me, mentioned I had gotten into Central, and the actor congratulated me and started to give me advice on what to look at in terms of British acting when I was in England. It was a great chat, he was a super cool guy, and I felt reassured in a way I haven't been in months to go on this adventure. It was totally needed, and I feel really lucky to have friends who garner me the chance to have these opportunities. So, thanks Tim and Heidi.

Five: I found someone else going to England for grad school this fall. We had gone to HS together, and had known each other, despite the fact that she is two years older than me. She already knows where she's going to live, and pointed me in a couple directions, which was great. I happy to know someone else going over, to maybe bounce travel ideas off of, and to have as a "safe person" if trouble happens overseas. And I could always use another Facebook friend, which is where she located me. So here we go, Liza.

In my spare time, I've also been seeing some friends, giving feedback on some one's play (like a good little dramaturge), wondering about BSG, trying to figure out who would be reading my blog in Austria (I see you, thanks to Google Analytics) and trying to make myself read Pinter. Could I really do all these things and sleep, and write about Suzuki with such specificity while at work?

I don't think so.