The Director Sector

For those of you just tuning in, I’m in  the middle of a multi-part blog series called Project: Introspection.  Previously, I discussed the importance of oral communications skills.  Read on for the next part in the series.

In theatre we learn very quickly that just “getting it done” isn’t enough.  Not at all.  It goes far beyond that.  We have to learn to do it correctly.  Just “getting it done” is totally unacceptable.  Odds are, it’s going to be pure, unadulterated crap.  Whatever our theatrical job — performance, lights, sound, marketing — it has to be done right and it has to be done well.  We learn to take pride in our accomplishments, in doing them to the best of our ability.  Take pride in anything less is sheer arrogance.

Take Shakespeare, for example.  I know you’re already rolling your eyes, but bear with me on this.

About five years ago, I went to see a performance of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”, which happens to have one of my favorite characters (Puck, if it wasn’t obvious).  My friends and I sat on the very back row.  The theatre wasn’t huge, so we weren’t that far from the stage.  In fact, we had a pretty good vantage point because we were close enough to see the actors in detail but far enough away to see the whole stage.

The set was very well done given the budget they had, and the costumes were typical of a traditional Shakespeare comedy.  All in all, there was nothing exceptional about the play, but there were quite a few deficiencies that stood out amongst all the mediocrity.

Before I go any further, I’d like to point out that the majority of the actors in this community theatre production were teenagers, high school students.  They weren’t professional actors, and they were doing this for fun, so I don’t really hold them to any higher standards than they achieved.  Having said that, I’ve seen high school students put on some phenomenal performances, so let’s just say these kids were average for their age and skill level.  Okay?  Moving on.

The most glaring deficiency was the lack of comprehension by the teenage actors.  The older actors seemed to understand what they were saying, but the kids who played Hermia, Helena, Llysander and Demetrius didn’t seem to have a clue what they were saying.  I take that back; one of the girls seemed to “get” Shakespearean English.

In other words, these kids were up there reciting what was to them, for all intents and purposes, pure gibberish.  They had no idea what they were saying and were merely moving according to the blocking the director had given.  As a result, it was very hard for even a Shakespeare fan like myself to follow the story.  Had I not seen the show before (actually, half a dozen times), then I might have been totally lost.

This isn’t entirely the kids fault — after all, they can’t be expected to master the cadence and vocabulary of one of The Bard’s most popular comedies in a mere six weeks.  But there should have been some effort by someone, whether the kids, their parents, the director, teachers — somebody! — to help them understand the context of their words.  What does “wherefore” mean?  They took it to mean “where” when it actually meant “why”.  That kind of thing.  ”Wherefore art thou sad?” they would say, looking around for the sad person.

Again, I would emphasize that these kids did the best they could and I had a pretty good time at the show.  I’m simply pointing out that the show had “gotten it done” when there were a lot of ways it could’ve pushed for more but didn’t.

The following season, I played a role in another Shakespeare show, “As You Like It”, at my college’s theatre.  I played the role of Duke Frederick, the closest thing to a villain in the show.  I also played one of the other Duke’s merry men.  It was a fun play to do, but most importantly, we made sure that we understood what we were saying. 

I remember sitting outside the theatre running lines with castmates and we’d occasionally stop and ask “What’s that mean?”  Either one of us could explain the meaning to the questioner, or we’d go ask the director.  Regardless, by the end of the day, we knew exactly what we were saying.

As a result, the movements, facial expressions and attitudes that we expressed on stage showed the audience what we were saying, even if the Bard’s poetic script was a bit beyond their comprehension. 

Many audience members came up to us afterward and said, “You were so wonderful.  I don’t have a clue what you said half the time, but somehow I understood what you meant.”  We smiled, bowed, and thanked them for their patronage.

Not only did we “get it done”, but we put enough time and effort into it that the audience felt it was a special performance.  For many of them, it was the first time they’d actually enjoyed a Shakespeare play, and for many others, it was their first exposure to Shakespeare and made them lifelong fans of the Bard and our theatre.

Actually, I gained two groupies, two really freaky guys (seriously, think Beetlejuice) that would hoot and holler if they saw me in public:  ”HEY! IT’S DUKE FREDERICK, MAN!”

At that point, I’d quickly duck for cover and hide until the moment passed.

Ahh, the rewards of hard work and effort.

Seriously.  Don’t just “get it done.”  Get it done right.

So now it’s your turn to share with me.  Ever put extra time and effort into a project and found that it was far more rewarding than simply half-assing it?   On the flipside, have you ever just put in the bare minimum effort required and been disappointed in the reaction?