Tag: acting technique

acting, Entertainment, film, makeup, mental illness, movies, New Novels, schizophrenia

Sometimes I Scare Myself.

Shari

Not my best day. photo by John Dlugolecki

This image of me is a work of art featuring makeup by an incredible artist named Devan Weitzman.  I realized when I looked at this picture, how my priorities have changed over the last trio of decades, and all I have to say is…what a relief!

I spent my teen years as a competitive ice skater, so I understood that hard work, and artistic ability were things that fulfilled me, that moved and motivated me. But then the day came when modeling, and then commercials, became my bread and butter, my entire value was suddenly based on how I looked, not necessarily by me, but by the people with whom I worked. In that business, it was a somewhat understandable—if horrible—place to have your self-worth centered. I remember how important it was to always look ‘sexy’ and ‘attractive.’ I was proud to be the one on the cover of the magazines, on the billboard, or the one who turned heads when I walked through a restaurant. I was proud, because it’s all I had to be proud of then. Without realizing it, I became more and more discontent, distressed, and unfulfilled. But, of course, since I had what others wanted, I was not allowed to express any unhappiness. I didn’t even understand that I was unhappy, and certainly not why.

And then I went on a remarkable photo shoot.

There was a model in Atlanta, I cannot remember her name! because she was a few years ahead of me. When I was starting out, she was winding down. I’d heard about her, and seen her picture everywhere, but we had never worked together. Then one day we were booked to do a swimwear ad featuring us on a bicycle built for two. We shot together, and then each had a turn alone. I was so interested, (and yes, invidiously so) to see why everyone thought she was so great. I was ‘a model with a brain’ so I was well known for using the area, theme, space, movement, and being creative, but I always, of course, focused on looking ‘good.’ So I took my turn and then she was up. I stood in the dark behind the photographer to watch and learn, like the Chinese stealing trade secrets.

She did a few shots of standard smiling or pouting poses and then she did something that shocked me. She pretended to have slipped and hit her crotch on the cross bar, and she did this ugly, ugly, pained face.

And it was fabulous!! In that silly moment, I realized that there was so much more to being a contributing talent than just looking ‘good.’ It was clear to me that because she was less inhibited, she was just plain better at it than me!

Now, no one’s ever accused me of being inhibited, mind you, that was just a step up to being able to see the value of being a character, instead of a face/body.   A realization, in fact, that ‘unattractive’ could be brilliant!! That producing something from the inside out was far more rewarding. And—here’s the secret—It’s much more fun!!! When I came to LA, I deliberately worked on characters in class like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, or one of the witches from Macbeth. And it was really terrifying for me, as it would be for so many women and girls who equate ‘ugly’ with bad. We who were told when we raised our voices, or argued with authority, that we were ‘acting ugly.’ And God forbid we were deemed unattractive by a society that worships beauty.

Taking my ‘ugly’ characters out in public showed me how differently people treated me, though i was the same person inside, and that inspired me to write “Invisible Ellen.”

Thankfully, things are changing, women are increasingly being valued for who they are and what they do, but we have a long way to go. And girls, you all need to get on board! Don’t let men make you compete with yourself or others, and instead of tearing other women down, build them up!! Root for them, cheer for them, chant their name as they go in on the same audition as you are! After all, we’re all on the same team, and isn’t it great to celebrate a thousand victories than to hoard a few of your own and resent everyone else’s?

Theater and acting helped me change my center of self-worth. I was desperate for substance and creativity as opposed to surface appearance. I learned to work in a company, a group, be a part of a whole, and be proud of my talent and hard work instead of my blonde hair and athletic body. I got my worth back.

And now, full circle. In “Scream at the Devil” I play a schizophrenic who is anything but concerned about her looks. She recedes into madness until she’s terrified by every sound and flash of light, and that is what’s important.

“Scream at the Devil” opens Oct 24th at the North Hollywood Laemmle, and plays through Halloween. If you want to check out the theatre page and watch the trailer to see just how far down I can get, here you go— http://www.laemmle.com/films/38650

This character and her pain aren’t pretty, and that’s why I’m so proud of it.

And now I am happy.

Shari, October 9th, 2014

Life in General

It’s All in the Details.

Shari
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On set with Tony Todd, a great actor who understands.

It’s all the same. In acting, writing, life, the real indicators, the emotional movers, the things that forward the story and touch our hearts are the little things. 

Here’s an example. The scene above from “Scream at the Devil” was a culmination scene. That means of course, that a great deal leads up to it. This scene begins with Detective Johnson, played by Tony Todd, finding me huddled, trembling and emotionally destroyed in a small closet. What leads up to it is a night of delusion and horror that have reduced me, and my mental health, to a quivering glutenous mass. My home is completely destroyed, everything in it is upside down, closets are emptied, dishes are broken, suffice to say that when Det. Johnson’s parter, (played by Kiko Ellsworth) comments. “She’s not much of a housekeeper, but we can’t arrest her for that!” he is making the understatement of the film. (And he’s really funny.) 

So that’s the set up. Now,  as they can’t find any evidence of a crime other than destruction of my own home by me, they have to go. But Det Johnson is not convinced, he sees a woman who is truly afraid of something. He sits down to try to talk me into leaving with him, to getting help, but I refuse. I cannot go back to a mental institution. 

Following the script, we act out the scene, I tell him I won’t, can’t, leave, he gives me his numbers, and tells me to call him if I need anything. Then he stands to go. 

Then he does something that was not in the script. He pauses, looks around at the devastation that is my living room, then leans down, picks up a candleholder on its side on the coffee table, sets it up right, gives me a sad but hopeful smile, and heads for the door. 

And I began to weep.

This film was very emotional for me, so I was already very raw, but that simple move, that small action of righting something in a world so topsy turvy, just said so much. He didn’t say, “If you clean this place up, you’ll feel better.” He didn’t get out the vacuum cleaner, he didn’t do or state anything obvious, just that small, simple kindness that illustrated to a broken woman that she could begin to heal with tiny, baby steps. 

Wow. What a wonderful actor, to find that moment.

And it’s the same for writing.  When my new character Ellen is reminded of one day in her horrific childhood, the day she was rescued from starving alone in a halfway house, she remembers only one thing clearly. The taste of a packaged cinnamon bun, though she has no idea why. Back in real time, Ellen’s reliance on cellophane wrapped snack foods as comfort and safety are an ongoing theme, though she doesn’t ever really understand or even question why. We will discover later that she was given the sweet treat by the same neighbor who called the police, and being five years old and not having eaten for several days, it’s the most wonderful thing she had ever, or will ever eat. If I had stated in the opening chapter, “Ellen used snack foods as a substitute for affection and family,” it would have been, as we say, “Too on the nose.” It would have meant the same thing, but as it is implied, and subtle, it moves us more. At least, I hope it does.

And what about life? I recently had to put down not one, but two beloved pets. One thing I insist on is being with them, so that they will have something familiar and comforting as they leave this world. You would think that the memory of that, the shaving of the limb, the hypodermic filled with what the vets call, ‘the pink juice’ the glazing of eyes, would be what makes me sad. But it isn’t.

It’s the tiny things that move me. A few crushed leaves in my herb patch release a minty smell that makes me recall my lab lying there to cool down, her tail thumping and her brown eyes hopeful. A glimpse of white tissue on the sofa beside me make me think for just a second that I see my cat, who loved to curl up in the small space between me and the arm while I was writing. Both of these things, and many more bring me that cloying sadness of loss, sweet and empty. They are small things, yet so filled with richness for me, and me alone, that I can only smile at the remembrance as my throat tightens and my eyes well up. 

So how would I write that? The smell of mint in the light wind would bring a choking clench to my character’s throat and her fingers would move against her thumb with   a tactile memory of stroking the softest ears while the recall of a soft snore makes her laugh out-loud, forgiving the tightness in her throat. A bark in the distance slows her step as she walks back to the house, lingering to savor the scent of freshness and the memory of devotion. I don’t have to say, “She thought of her dead dog and it made her cry.” 

There is something in comedy, and in good literature, called ‘the skip.’ That’s what I call it anyway. It’s a matter of association, from one thing to another that skips the steps in between. It’s hard to think of a good example, but I’ll try. I was watching a movie screening of a film I had done with a well known comedian, and there was a scene where I take my dress off, toss it on a chair, and stand there arguing in a bra and panties. It was quiet in the screening room, and all I could think was, “This scene is lasting forever!” though it had probably been all of fifteen seconds. 

Then from the darkness next to me, the comedian said flatly, “Nice chair!” And I busted up laughing. 

He had skipped the filler thoughts. If he had said. “You’ve taken your dress off, your wearing black lace panties. Oh look, you’re half naked, that must feel really exposed, let me take the focus off of you..nice chair.” It wouldn’t have been funny, would it? 

So, if you are an aspiring writer, and want some practice, try this. It’s a version of a ‘sensory’ technique for acting.  Take a real emotional time in your life. Relax quietly and ‘live’ it. Let all the memories and feelings about it pass through you, focus on the little things, the temperature in the room, the light on the trees, the smell of traffic, the feeling of the slate on your bare feet, whatever it is, remember the sensations.

Now write about it. Not in a linear way, but recalling the details as your primary indicators. Here’s one of mine, my  ex husband is telling me he won’t pay for college, I notice the condensation growing on my ice tea glass and then gathering into droplets that are finally heavy enough to fall, leaving a trail that reminds me of snail slime. The smug smile on his face is accentuated by an unpleasantly hot wind that lifts my hair and fuels my rage.

Sure, now I know I should have thrown the tea at him, glass and all, but that’s probably better left in fiction. Though, unfortunately, the abandoning his girl’s education for his Porsche and petty revenge on me is very much real life. 

See? Not even fun or interesting to hear that last bit is it? It’s the details  that make it drama, it’s the obvious facts that make it melodrama. 

And the same can be said even if you’re not a writer, or an actor, or have any use for words and actions other than on that greatest of stages, Real Life. Look for the little things. The reflections of sky on water, the smell of butter sauteing, the giggle of your niece in the other room, the splatters of dew on a smooth rock, the kindness of someone in a hurry who pauses to hold a door open for an elderly person, the music of gratitude in the scratchy ‘thank you’ that results. 

Notice these things, feel them, keep them, take them home with you. They are what life is made of. 

I wish you a million and nine small things, hundreds of thousands of special shining moments, smells, sounds, memories. Pull one out and it will take you back, bind them together, and you will have a life worth living. 

Love, and tiny glints of beauty, to you all.

Shari, September 1st, 2013

 

 

 

 

Life in General

Gorillas in the Mists of Venice

Shari
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A view of the filming from the bridge.
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And what I see when I’m ‘alone.’

What’s that? There in the fog? Look closely, that way, in the near distance, a movement, a murmur, the wildlife stirs.

Oh, that’s us. We’re shooting a film here sans the rest of our crew. The whole big scene, assistants, grips, FX team, assistant directors, catering, etc, will all be hunkered down for a few weeks of intense group participation back in LA, and that will be tons of fun, no doubt, but today is a very different animal.

Because for this segment of the film, probably the first three minutes, it’s just me, the director, and the director of photography. It’s a raw way of working, but let me tell you, it has its definite advantages.

First, as an actress. Yes, I’m doing my own makeup and hair, and keeping track of my own wardrobe, not very well, by the way, I won’t look as pretty or be as well lit, but that’s okay, this film isn’t a vanity piece, and on the other hand I don’t have a team of people in my face picking and fussing at me with spray cans, lint rollers and brushes right up until the director says action, which, when you are doing a scene where you are beginning to see the devil in your real life, helps I think.

So much of acting is about just being able to be alone in a crowd. Being capable of not seeing what is right in front of your eyes, but instead what you imagine and mentally produce. The more I think about it, the two most valuable qualities to have as an actor are probably a fantastic fantasy life, and emotional detachment.

Here’s an example. I’m shooting a scene in my hotel room in Venice, it’s a very intimate phone conversation with my estranged husband, (played by the fabulous Eric Etebari, who will shoot his part much later back in LA) I don’t have him giving me the lines, and the director is busy, so I have to just memorize my part, and ‘hear’ his lines in my head. Meanwhile, the DP is constantly checking the focus on the camera because the camera is panning and moving in as the scene continues.

Do you have any idea how hard it is not to look at someone moving suddenly in your eye-line? To stay fixed in a tense, emotional moment when someone is waving a hand a foot from the camera? The combination of ‘forgetting everything’ and ‘being in the moment’ is a dichotomy that is extremely unnatural.

But, hey, that’s what I do.

A huge part of being a good actress means being technically good. By that I mean that you know what the framing is on the camera and visualize how to best fill it, you match your hand and head movements so that the editor can cut between the master and the close up. You make sure you are in your light, even if that means a fraction of an inch turn of your head. You are careful not make any unnecessary sound that might mess up the audio. You sit into the shot and place your face in the exact inch that means you will be in focus. You pause when a boat in the canal outside sounds it’s horn and then repeat the line so that it is ‘clean.’ All in a days work.

Now add to that, shooting in a city packed with tourists with nothing to do but try to see what’s going on, and locals who try to get in the picture. It’s hysterical really. We got to the point where we would set up the camera facing the wrong direction. The Italians, always on the phone, would find a place to settle themselves directly in the shot, then, when they were ensconced, at the last minute we would swing around and I would move to the other side so that we could get the shot even amidst the indigenous flora and fauna.

And there you have it, Gorilla filmmakers in the mists of Venice.

And if I must say, we got some amazing footage. Atmosphere and emotion and history that we could never have achieved back in good ol’ Hollywood.

So for you actors out there, my message today is “be flexible.” Don’t expect everyone to be completely silent and still and cater to you. It won’t happen, not even on the biggest sets. Other people have jobs to do too, and you need to respect them as well. When the sound guy lowers the boom to six inches over your head to catch your whisper, don’t look at it, and don’t even think about it. Yes, you will see the grip angle the reflector card as you step in to your close up, yes you will see the first AD cue the extras to walk behind you. But you must stay in your own dream.

Forget them all, and remember everything. Be in the moment emotionally yet intellectually perform a thousand tiny physical tasks. That’s my advice for today. Whether you are shooting with two people on a busy street, or a crew of hundreds on a sound stage.

You will never be alone, but we must believe that you are.

Meanwhile, back in the jungles of Italy, in between shots, I smile at everyone, help the elderly man down the stairs of the bridge when our camera is blocking the railing, listen to the bells of the cathedrals tolling in their fullness, and remind myself again how lucky I am.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Shari Venice, Italy, March 10th 2013.

Acting & Experiences, creating character, Entertainment, Shakespeare

The Insane Reality.

Shari
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They say the road to insanity is a lonely one, so why do I need so many people in my head?

Paranoid schizophrenia, the disease that my character in “Scream at the Devil” suffers, is a fascinating, and very frightening form of schizophrenia.

In my research of this disease, I realized very quickly that as laypeople, we often misuse and misunderstand mental illness definitions. A schizophrenic is one who suffers a long-term illness that causes them to loose touch with reality (a psychosis). A Paranoid schizophrenic loses touch with reality and has symptoms that are specific to paranoia.

For instance, two of the traits most often associated with paranoid schizophrenia are—1. hearing voices, and 2. delusions, almost always of a harmful nature.

Not surprising, in our very predominately Eurocentric Christian-American society, the number one voice heard by schizophrenics is Jesus Christ.

The number two is Satan.

So, beside the obvious questions that raises about the mental health of people who insist that they have an inside line to the Almighty, and know better than the rest of us what ‘God’ is thinking, it gives me a starting point.

The voices can be one, or they can be many, they can tell the person to do things that can be harmful to self or others, they are most often critical and make cruel comments about the person who ‘hears’ them. They can talk to the individual or about them. I’ll be inviting quite a few personalities into my head, distinct individuals that I am creating now.

The most common delusion is that the individual is being singled out for harm. The government is targeting them, or a co-worker or mate is poisoning their food.  These delusions can result in aggression or violence if the individual believes they must act in self-defense against the imagined harm. Some of my past drug addiction is working for me here. I would sometimes not sleep for days, and I actually thought that the police had tunnels around my house, and I would imagine people in shadows. I can sit still down, quiet my mind, and clearly recall those feelings, though they were more than 30 years ago.

So now I begin the work of building this character and her decent into this kind of horrifying madness. I cannot build this person the way I would usually create a character. No relative past history, experiences that create current emotional responses and behaviors will have any bearing, no logical reaction to reality can be prepared.

Which leaves me with two things: Sensory work, and Transference.

Sensory work, means that I need to create an intense fear (or other emotion) of something that isn’t there. Well, it isn’t there on set, but in my mind it is very real and very present. Fortunately, the screenwriter-director has done his homework and so mine is much easier. Something is moving under the carpet? In my mind, with a good bit of focus and preparation, I can make that a river of acid that will fry off my skin, or a huge snake that will wrap around me and squeeze until I choke. Sensory work.

Transference means I move a reaction I would have to one thing, onto another. In the script, my husband is trying to get me to take my medication, I put myself in the place of swallowing  a piece of glass that broke off a juice cup when I was six. Transference.

It’s remarkably similar to being a paranoid schizophrenic. They believe it, I have to believe it, even though it isn’t there.

They say that the only way to understand someone else’s journey is to walk a mile in their shoes. I’m about to cross a continent, and believe me, my compassion for the people suffering from this cruel disease is profound.

How do I respond to a voice no one else can hear?  The answer, of course, is that I have to mentally speak that voice, yet detach it from my own consciousness.

Deep, I have to go deep.

I’ve done ‘crazy’ before. I’ve played parts that are delusional, with visions of grandeur, and insanity caused by extreme guilt or obsession, but that’s different. This woman is in a constant hell, a long hallway with less and less windows, fewer and fewer glimpses of light or sanity, and no way out, or back.

Am I scared? Actually, I’m having a blast.

Roles like this don’t come around all that often, believe me, I’ve done a whole lot of acting work, and maybe two percent of it has been well written. Mostly stage, of course, where you have the option of choosing the best of the best.

But Lady Macbeth’s journey into insanity is quite different from Miriam Jones’. Lady M. is driven to suicide by horrible actions, and their consequences, that she herself put into motion around her, Miriam is dealing with actions put into motion by the machinations of her own brain.

Inside out. Outside in. For the first time, I’m starting a character at the end of her journey, and working backwards. I feel like I’m in a Pinter play, only far more twisted.

And here’s the thing. The real goal in acting is to do all the homework, be completely emotionally and mentally and physically ready, and then, forget everything and just react.

And then there’s that element that the director has so beautifully interwoven into the story.

Maybe she’s not crazy.

I like to apologize in advance to the entire cast and crew of “Scream at the Devil.” Putting myself in that place won’t always be easy, and even though, at my very deepest, most distraught insanity, some level of me will be going, “Whoo, this is fun!” I know that the crazy will leak somewhat. It always does. And I’ll be extremely vulnerable on set. That’s why the director’s first job, on every set, is the protection and well-being of everyone there. Stress out and start blaming or bitching, and I’ll withdraw. Tell me your issue calmly, and I will work with you.

I promise.

If you need me, I’ll be in my padded cell.

Shari, January 16. 2013.

Life in General

Skating Through the Auditioning Process

Shari

Image I’ve been asked to write a bit more about auditioning, and it will be just a bit. The fact is, there’s not too much more to say about the process. It’s different every time, and you never know until you enter that room what you’re up against, it’s impossible to prepare for it all. I compare it to skating on thin ice, or tap dancing. As I said before, once you can act and get the audition, it really boils down to if you have the look they had in mind, and if they believe you can pull off the part and make them money. 

That said, there are a couple of things that you can do that work, pretty exclusively, for auditions. This is what is called the process of ‘cold reading.’ 

Look, when you go out for a film or television role, it’s very likely that the second you walk through that door and they get a look at you, you are a possibility, or you might as well just go home. If you have a look that they think will work, they might pay attention to your reading. If not, they’ll study their notes while you read and smile you out with those fateful words, “Nice job, thanks for coming in.” Death.

Unless this is a final call back, and you’ve had some time with the script and a chance to talk to the casting director, you have to wing it as far as choices go. You are in an office, performing a scene that takes place in a bar or a war, or at a zoo, so there’s no help there. You are reading across from the casting director’s non-acting assistant/secretary, so that’s not much to go off of. You don’t have time to work up a big history or scenario, so, provided you still have their attention once you take a seat, here’s what you do. 

Put your feet flat on the floor, take a deep breath, look your reading partner in the eye, and see what comes up! When this works, and you can produce something ‘real,’ it is often wonderful work. It’s true, honest, from the gut, and quite fun when you hook in. 

But it’s death when you don’t. If you haven’t prepared sensory background work to produce emotions, or created a history for this character, then if the words and the moment don’t strike you, it’ll be roadkill-flat. 

This style of working also does not work when you are on a set and it’s the 37th take. (I’ve had more than that.) Ironically, the hardest work to do repetitiously is laughter. Something that strikes you as funny once, won’t hold for multiple takes, so you have to go to a physical exercise to produce the feeling in your gut, and then, once you start laughing, it feels really good. In fact, I recommend this next trick as a daily exercise. 

Relax, get comfortable. Exhale fully, push the air out, and you will feel it in your solar plexus. Great, now, keep doing this until you sort of force a little laugh sound from just below your ribcage/stomach, just a little huh, huh, sound. Keep on it, and pretty soon, you will be laughing for no apparent reason and the laughing makes you laugh, so…

Great stuff. You can get the same kind of reaction by singing. When I was doing Cabaret, I had to train my voice for several weeks before, and everyday after practice, I would feel elated! It produces the same emotional-physical response as laughing. This makes sense, as both singing and laughing come from the same area of your body, and initiate a similar dopamine response. 

And then there’s the personality factor. What kind of human will I meet today? It was a nasty day in New York when I met Steven Spielberg. He was casting for the second Indiana Jones movie and the first meeting was just a ‘hello, let’s chat’ kind of thing. It was sleeting outside, one of those filthy, icy cold days when you can’t get a cab, and even a short walk along the street left you with a red-runny nose, limp hair and streaked makeup. I headed for the subway, where I was accosted by a nasty gang of teenagers, got out of that one, walked twenty five blocks in slush and sleet to the meeting and entered in a foul, shaky mood. 

Steven was very nice, we talked about the recent hurricane style bad weather that was hitting L.A. and how many people had lost their homes to mudslides and storms. And when he told me that his Malibu house’s volleyball court had been washed away with what seemed to be a sincere annoyance with the inconvenience, I stood up and kicked him in the shins. 

Okay, probably not the smartest thing to do, but I was in a weird place. Needless to say, he fell in love with Kate Capshaw, who got the part, and I have never seen him again. But you know what? It could have gone the other way. He could have thought that I was spunky and perfect for the part. The fact is, you don’t know. 

So once again, here’s my auditioning advice.

1. Learn to act. 

2. Be ready for anything, especially total rejection. 

3. Wing it, you have no options. 

4. Be pleasant, confident, and if possible, amusing. 

5. Let it go. 

And that’s about it. There are a thousand things you can do to prepare, some will come in handy, some will be useless. You just don’t know until you get there. 

Just like life. Be pleasant, confident, and whenever possible, amusing. 

And if it doesn’t come out the way you wanted, let it go. 

Shari, November 10th, 2012

 

Acting & Experiences, Entertainment, Life in General, Nature: Hiking, Wildlife & More

It’s the Feeling that Counts.

Shari

The the Feeling that Counts.

Does this photo make you feel something? That’s me on a hike in Sequoia, and I remember the feeling of standing there, above the clouds, with the cold wind on my face and all the world stretched before me. It gives me a thrill of joy and hugeness to see this, to remember that moment.

There is a style of acting known as Grotowski. Now, it’s a whole complex system of digging and following your natural feelings and I’m not going to go into all of it, but I will share with you budding actors and writers out there what I took from my study of it. What worked, and still works, for me, on the stage, and on the page.

Here’s how I first discovered it. I was working with an actor who was playing a Mob boss. The director wasn’t happy with the way he was entering the room for the scene. He told him, “More arrogant!”

Now, that’s all very good and well as a direction, but it isn’t the kind of thing you can emotionally play. Yet, the actor thought for a moment, left the stage and entered again. This time, his entire body language was transformed, his head was higher, a secret smile played on his lips and he stood with utter confidence.

I was stunned at how fast he’d made the change. The director said, “Wow, okay, what did you just do?”

“Oh,” the actor replied, “I just imagined a warm tropical breeze blowing on my face.”

Wow is right. Think about it. Take a moment to imagine the sensation of a balmy breeze lifting the hair around your face and caressing your body, relaxing your muscles with it’s perfect temperature and see how it changes your body language and stance. That’s the day I started using exterior sensations to create attitudes and emotions.

Cut to a moment in a film when I’m doing my sixteenth take and I’m waiting just inside a door knowing that any second, someone will come through it and kill me. Mind you, no one will in this take, they’ll shoot that later, so I have to create the moment. As the camera rolls, I imagine a large hairy spider at the base of my spine. I can feel all eight of its tiny claws clasping my skin. As the director calls ‘action,’ I imagine it beginning to move, crawling, slowly at first, up my spine. Then as the moment comes when I ‘react’ to the door flying open, a moment that will be shot later, I imagine the spider scuttles up to the base of my neck and sinks in its fangs. I shudder, scream, and pretty much lose it.

Pretty good substitute right? I mean, if you give it a moment, you will physically feel something that you are imagining fully. For actors, we keep the interior dialogue silent, and show the emotion.

For writers, it’s the opposite. We show the emotion by writing the interior dialogue. “She sat, petrified, as though at the base of her spine, a black widow was testing it’s fangs over her tender skin.”
Or some such. See? works both ways.

The best acting, of course, is a combination of so many things. I have a friend who was one of only two in his entire class graduating with a masters in acting. During the final exam/performance for the professors, the other actor broke down and started to sob. “I can’t do this.”

The professors invited him to sit down and asked what was going on. He said, “I can’t do it. I’m supposed to be connected with my eyes, ears and body, I’m supposed to be ‘in my spine.’ I’m trying to remember my history, my choices, my sensory work, and the character’s intentions. Not to mention the vocal placement, dialect, etc. I just can’t do it all at the same time.”

Out of the dark theatre came a voice. “You’re not supposed to do all of that at once. No one could. The point is to have done the work, have those techniques available, and then let go and let it all come through.”

The actor raised his tear stained face to the silhouettes in the dark and said, “Oh.”

Fortunately for my friend, the other guy had gone first. So he was spared making the same mistake.

We try all of these methods, some things work for us, some things don’t. We all ‘connect’ differently. Some in our eyes, some in our ears, some in our bodies. I’m more physical. It suits me. Think of an aggressive person who gets in your face. You might cross your arms or take a step backwards, that’s being connected in your body, almost anyone would tense up. An actor who thinks it’s tough to not react at all, is not connected physically. We’ll do more on this next time.

The point is, learn it, try it, use what works. Don’t be afraid to go there, and don’t be afraid to throw it out. Writers, did you already make that point? Do you really need to do it with four more metaphors? Cut it!!

That’s what my first editor, a fabulous woman named Amy Peirpont would have called, “Too purple.” I learned a lot from her.

So keep all the feeling, make big choices, and don’t be too purple, maybe a shade of soft lavender would be best for this book-character-role.

But no matter what, feel the wind on your face, and smile.

Shari 10-16-2012

Life in General

Field of Vision

Shari

Field of Vision

I promised to write a little more about creating a history for the characters I play as an actress. The idea of writing a history for the role is to create a series of emotional events, loosely based on real memories, to create the emotional responses that the role requires.

Let’s use the movie, “Dead On” in which I play an abused wife who teams up with her lover to kill their spouses. Think, “Strangers on a Train” with a twist.

Now, despite what my harsher critics might think, I am not a homicidal maniac or a woman who would allow a man to abuse me, but Erin, my character, is. So, I have to find a way to link into something real in my early childhood, teen years, etc, that would produce this person. My real memory might not be sufficient, so I have to enhance it.

Let’s take an example. I might remember a time when my mom blamed me for something that my little sister did and my feelings were hurt. That’s the first element, there has to be a real emotion surrounding it. Say, my sister fell down while we were playing and began to cry, my mom rushes in, assumes I hit her, and admonishes me.

Okay, that happened, what happened next in life is, I explained, my mom relaxed and I helped make dinner. But, for this character, I start by writing down the real incident and ‘feeling it,’ (this is sensory work, more on that later) then I change the events afterward but keep the emotion going. My mom rushes in, admonishes me, then she hits me, I watch while my mom cradles my little sister as she makes dinner and I am verbally abused. It can get much worse, I could run away and be physically abused by a neighbor, I could hide in my closet and no one comes for me, the possibilities are endless, but the point is the same.

What happened in my childhood, teen years, young adult, grown up, that resulted in Erin, (my character) becoming a person capable of murder? I have to create that history.

I do the same thing to fill in any spaces in the script. If the story picks up a week later at some point, what happened in that week?

This is especially helpful for film where you shoot the scenes by location, completely out of order. I may have to shoot the opening and closing scenes in the same day! How I use this process during the shooting is this; I go to my notebook, read and experience all the emotional points I’ve chosen, starting with earliest memories and coming all the way up to date. Then I read through any scenes that come before the one I’m doing today, and emotionally feel those as well. I get right up to the scene I’m doing now and put it away.

Now I am emotionally prepared to be the person the screen writer and the director need me to be in that moment.

This is a simple version, of course, and some characters are closer to me than others, but I always have to find the shift in personality, choices, and behavior. Sometimes it’s a step to the left, and sometimes it’s a mile away.

Still, fun stuff! And it works just the same for writing. I find I don’t have to do complete emotional workups for all my written characters, but I have to have a strong emotional base to make them real. It also frees me up. I find my characters saying and doing things that I swear I didn’t think of. That’s really fun!

So, whatever your field is, dig in, enjoy, do it for love.

Shari, 19-10-12

Acting & Experiences, Entertainment, Life in General

Venice, the Return.

Shari

Image

I’ve had several people ask me recently what I’m doing with acting. So here’s my update and a little insight into preparing for a role.
I’ve taken almost a decade off of film and television acting so that I could spend time raising my girls. You have to understand that you’re either in it, or you’re not. Agents, casting directors, etc, just won’t deal with part time. There are too many other people available. I’ve done plenty of theatre and writing in those years, in fact, I’ve worked harder than when I was ‘acting’ for a living. But now that Calee is older and Creason is off to college, I’m set to do a project that won’t take me away from my younger daughter, rather, I’ll take her with me!
Last year, my husband made and sold a film titled, “Redemption.” If you’re interested, you can check it out at redemption-movie.com It is a post civil war drama about a wealthy southern family that lost everything and comes to California to rebuild their lives. It’s beautiful, moving, and won many awards. It’s also been a lovely calling card toward doing our next project.

So now, for something completely different. We will start shooting, “Scream at the Devil” in February in Venice, Italy. We will take Calee with us, get her a tutor and she will assist in the filming. Then it’s back to L.A. where we will complete the shooting.

The story is of a woman, (little ol’ me) who has dealt with serious psychological problems. She and her husband go to Venice for a second honeymoon, and while they are visiting a very ancient cathedral she picks up something that is older and darker than anything in their known world. Or did she?

The movie continues as a slow decent into hysterical insanity, or is she really sane and the presence she feels is truly malevolent?

Preparing for this kind of role, requires accessing levels of emotion freely that one would normally shut down. I realize I’ve already been noting moments of fear in my life and checking in on how they register in my body, my voice, and my feelings. It’s almost like subconscious homework. Being able to reach down and yank out the insanity that lurks there in all of us, is something I’ve done before, for films and theatre. Think, “Lady Macbeth.” That took some digging. But here’s what happens. At first, it’s frightening, you don’t want to go to that dark and scary place, then you access it a little and learn to build on it, react from that place, it informs you, and at some point, while you are simultaneously wailing and laughing and seeing snakes under wallpaper, some small voice in you says, “This is fun!!” And then you can walk away from it when you’re done. Let it slide off.

Now this film is going to be a full month of ‘going there’ And I’m looking forward to it this time. The more gritty and dramatic the script reads, as Joseph rewrites, the more excited I get. Give me something I can really sink my teeth into!!

The other aspect of playing crazy is how you display it. Good acting is a combination of real sensory work, (feeling it) and technical finesse., (if you can’t see the camera, the camera can’t see you. Where’s my light source? How much of me is in the shot? Did I match the arm movements in the close up to the master shot of the room?) You can do all the ‘feeling’ you want to, but if you’ve covered your face with your hands and crawled into a closet, it won’t be on the film. Unless, of course, there’s a camera in the closet, then… go for it!!

One of the most difficult things about preparing for a role is knowing where the character starts. I’m a fairly resilient creature, people think of me as strong and reliable. This woman, is not. She is coming from a weaker, more abused place. So I have to create a history for her up until the exact moment that first scene starts. I’ll write more about this later, because it’s a whole process that really works for me. I write pages and pages about the childhood, teens, etc, specific events, so that I create a character who would behave and react like the woman I am portraying.

Fun stuff!! And best of all, I’ll be spending time in my favorite city in the world, Calee will eat pasta and proscutto until she pops, and we will learn history and architecture, and art and culture.

Now, I might be crazy, but I think it’s a win-win.

Even if I do have to loose my mind to get there.

Salute e felicita a tutti, Shari. 10-8-2012