I already addressed the merest of directing in my post on Three Words Directors Need To Know, but in this particular post, I’m going to address actual classroom ideas. You see, when I took my first Directing class, it was rather… simple. Here’s basically the way the class went down.

1. Intro to class
2. Discuss different directors (Homework: research different directors)
3. Each student presents a 5 minute oral report on their director (e.g. Elia Kazan) and that director’s style
4. Class is split in half — “Team A” directs first, “Team B” stage manages.
5. From among stage managers, “designers” selected.
6. “Team A” perform plays.
7. “Team B” people become directors, “Team A” people become SM’s.
8. Repeat.

As you can see, there is very little instruction on what directors actually do and how they go about their jobs. In fact, of the 36 possible class meetings, we only met, maybe, eight times. Lots of learning going on there, I promise you.

Now, I am far from an expert, but think I can come up with a better solution. This new plan requires a class limit of 8 people. Any more than that, and you’ve got too many people involved. Limit it to eight people (juniors and seniors). If you have more than that, create another section with another professor. Now, the plan:

Week one: Introduction to Directing, discuss chain of command in theatre, history of directing, roles, etc
Week two: Select plays*, write proposals that answer the following questions: Why did you choose this piece? What technical problems do you foresee? How will you solve them? How large is the cast? Male/Female roles? etc.
Week three: Present proposals to class, discuss proposals. Are there any obvious problems? Does the class, in general, think these particular proposals are good?**
Week four: Discuss concepts, show concepts from in-house designers as examples, assign concepts assignment
Week five: Present concepts to class, discuss concepts. Instructor should grade concepts on feasibility, following instructions, etc. Split class into pairs, each pair in charge of one aspect of designing
Week six: Hold auditions for plays, begin rehearsing
Week seven: Production meetings - class discusses problems, solutions, and needs for productions
Week eight: Discuss various directors and their styles, including Elia Kazan, Stanislavsky, etc, assign report on directors and styles
Week nine: Present reports to class, continue production meetings, rehearsals, etc.
Week ten: Tech week, make sure productions are ready to go
Week eleven: Productions — Post-mortem report assigned
Week twelve: Post-mortem report (final exam) due

*Limit cast to 4 or fewer — can be adjusted depending on actor pool. Smaller schools need smaller casts, since fewer actors are available. If possible, could work in concert with acting classes.
**Note: This is not for a grade, but for constructive criticism purposes).

Okay, so as you can see, there are some major differences. I’ve included a few aspects of the original class, since I agree those aspects are necessary, but I do think that if you’re going to have a class called “Directing” then there should be some lessons that deal with exactly what it is that directors do (e.g. production meetings, concepts, rehearsals, etc). Theatre history with regards to directing and studying other director styles is definitely needed, but that didn’t help me at all when I directed my first productions.

So there you have it. If I were to teach Directing 101, that would be my basic course outline.

Any suggestions? Comments? Jokes?

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“How is it that I am a good actor? What I do is I.. pretend to be the person I’m portraying.

You’re confused.

Case in point: in Lord of the Rings, Peter Jackson comes to me and says ‘I would like you to be Gandalf the Wizard,’ and I said ‘You are aware that I am not really a wizard?’ and Peter Jackson said ‘I would like you to use your acting skills to portray a wizard for the duration of the show.’

So i said ‘Okay’ and then I said to myself ‘Mmm.. How do I do that?’ And this is what I did: I imagined that I was a wizard, and then I pretended, and acted, in that way on the stage.

How did I know what to say? The words were written down for me in a script. How did I know where to stand? People told me where to stand.

If you were to graph my acting, it would look something like this: Sir Ian, Sir Ian, Sir Ian, action — wizard! “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” Cut! — Sir Ian, Sir Ian, Sir Ian…”

–Clip from the excellent BBC/HBO series Extras (Youtube).

As stupid as this scene is, it’s brilliant. It’s brilliant, because it’s true.

Acting is really simple. You pretend. That’s it.

There is a catch. It, too, is simple: there’s no science to acting; it is an art.

Granted, you can teach one how to use the tools that are available to you, but without the instinct there is no art. There’s a reason why the School of Theatre is a part of the College of Arts.

You can give me the absolute best box of crayons and the highest quality paper, and I still can’t draw worth a shit. You can give me oil and canvas, marble and chisel, or piano and music, and I still can’t paint, sculpt, or sing. Like the previously mentioned subjects, acting is an art — you can’t teach it, per se. You can teach the methods, but you can’t teach the instinct.

I’m not a huge fan of method acting. Yes, I use aspects of Stanislavsky’s method in my own acting, but my own acting is much like Sir Ian McKellen’s: me, me, me, me, action! (say lines) cut!, me, me, me, me.

One of my instructors keeps trying to cram into our heads that actors should “really do what you’re doing.” This is wrong. Absolutely wrong. The minute you start to really do what you’re doing, you’re no longer acting — you’re no longer pretending — you’re just YOU on stage dressed up like someone else.

In the end, however, I don’t particularly care how YOU act, so long as you act well. I have friends who can’t act worth a shit, and I’ll never cast them unless their actual, real personality fits with the character. I’ve had friends that I could’ve sworn the author was thinking of when he wrote that play — they’re that much alike.

But when I hold auditions, I look for good actors. Actors who do different things, who behave differently than they do in “real life”, who can show me a range of behavior. After all, the best characters in a play change over the course of the play: they grow. If an actress can’t act, if she can only portray herself, then how can she grow on stage?

The simple answer: she can’t.

As stupid as Sir Ian’s explanation is, it is brilliant. It’s true.

Acting is pretending.
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