We started the class with the 'wink murder' game. I never realised before, but it helps us learn about how to play minor. Because when you are walking around looking into people's eyes and trying to spot the murderer, you are looking for the game. When we got killed (I was actually a killer, but right at the end there were only three killers left so we got to kill each other) we got to do a big dramatic death, and at the moment where we are about to say who killed us, we die. Most of us got banged almost immediately. I lasted a bit longer - I had good subtlety, space and stillness, but I soon got banged because it seemed that I wasn't dying - I'd actually just eaten "some bad Chinese".
Today we learned about entrances. The director says "Ah! With your special pleasure we start the show." On the stage was a table, two chairs, and a telephone. Two people stand behind the wings. The first enters at the sound of Philippe's drum, with a ball. When the first person to enter feels that their pleasure is diminishing - that the audience doesn't love them anymore - they call their friend to come over (or, if their friend senses they are "pedaling in the sauerkraut" then they can knock on their friend's door). Then the first person to enter passes the ball to their partner who is behind the wings, and that person enters the stage. The improvisation continues.
Recipe for a Good Entrance:
- Enter in major
- Show your pleasure
- Show your face
- Have a fixed point
- Don't talk and walk at the same time
- Take in the space
"If at your entrance we don't love you, we will never love you. So it's good to have a good entrance."
I got up a little later than usual today. Trying a different tact. My scene partner was
Akron - a Canadian guy who has a weird and kind of awkward stiff-body presence when he's on stage. Akron was the one who entered first and I was the scene-saver - the second entrance. Akron felt his pleasure diminish very quickly so called me on the phone. 'I'll come over right away"...Knock knock knock! Although I dropped the ball that Akron thew to me (not the best start, plus I banged my head on the wings secretly too!) I entered with good energy and a voice for the theatre. I had a fixed point and I showed myself to the audience.
"Hey Akron! How's it going? Wow! Nice place."
Boom. We hear text but we do not dream.
Philippe got me to repeat what I just did - but I didn't understand him (what he wanted me to do was walk and talk at the same time, to illustrate that it doesn't work). I just said the text. It's okay. The text is fine. But you have no pleasure. I had to pick one of three girls to come up on stage with me - I picked Maria-Louisa - my best complicité buddy. Then Maria-Louisa had to lift my shift up and tickle my stomach as I said the text in front of the audience. Instant pleasure. I blush, giggle, and feel a bit silly. The audience loves me.
"Pleasure leads the game...If you don't have pleasure, you don't exist in the game."
So how do I get this pleasure again? Without having somebody rub my belly in front of an audience? How do I bring what Philippe calls 'the joy of life' on stage with me? Well, I suppose I can remember that experience, that sensation, and use it as a reference, and try and go back to that feeling every time I go to enter on stage. Or I could fake it.
"We love liars in the theatre. Not people who say the truth."
And if I feel like the audience hates me? Like my pleasure is fading?
"Even if you feel you are going into a catastrophe, you have to pretend you are fantastic."
Okay cool. Well that makes me feel like 'faking' my pleasure might be okay. I'm going to give that a go for a while. Even though I do actually feel pleasure. I love being on stage and with an audience. And the thrill of potentially being fantastic, or awful. And at École Philippe Gaulier there is nothing in between, which I love.
"It's awful or it's not awful. It's not a little bit awful."
It's nice for things to be black and white for a while.
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