Uta Hagen was a renowned American actress and acting teacher who had a profound influence on acting in the United States. She had a long career on Broadway and in film, winning two Tony awards. Since 1947, she taught acting at the Herbert Berghof Studio and trained generations of actors. Her books on acting techniques grew out of her decades of experience. She dedicated her career to teaching others and helping them improve, though she could have pursued more acclaim through her own acting. Hagen brought beauty and dreams to the world through her work before passing away in 2004.

1. UTA HAGEN
RESPECT FOR ACTING
An Acting Methodology

2. UTA HAGEN
(1919 - 2004)
Because Uta Hagen has had a long, distinguished career on the stage, and
because for decades Uta Hagen has been one of the most important acting
teachers in America, and because she has written with wit and clarity about the
technical craft of acting, Uta Hagen has had a profound influence on the way
acting is practiced, taught, and thought about in this country. Uta Hagen made
her professional debut in 1937 at the age of eighteen as Ophelia in an Eva Le
Galliene Hamlet in Dennis, Massachusetts. In 1938 Uta Hagen made her
Broadway debut as Nina in the Lunts production of The Sea Gull. Uta Hagen
played in twenty-two Broadway productions, including the legendary Othello
with Paul Robeson and Jose Ferrer.
In 1948 Uta Hagen re-invented Blanche DuBois for the national tour of A
Streetcar Named Desire with Anthony Quinn, and then succeeded Jessica
Tandy's radically different Blanche for the Broadway run the next year. In
1950 Uta Hagen won her first Tony award, the Drama Critics Award, and the
Donaldson Award for her creation of Georgie Elgin in Clifford Odets The
Country Girl. She starred in such classics as Shaw's St. Joan and Turgenev's A
Month in the Country, and in 1962 Uta Hagen created Martha in Albee's
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, winning her second Tony and second Drama
Critics Award, as well as the London Critics Award. Uta Hagen has also
appeared in many TV specials and several films.
Since 1947 Uta Hagen has taught acting at the Herbert Berghof Studio.
Together with her late husband, she trained generations of actors: Geraldine
Page, Jason Robards, and Matthew Broderick are among the countless others
who reached prominence.
As Jack Lemmon wrote, "This extraordinary woman is one of the greatest
actresses I have seen in my lifetime, yet Uta Hagen has deliberately made her
acting career secondary to teaching and directing others so that they might
benefit. Lord knows what exalted position she might have attained had she
chosen to concentrate on her own acting career, but I guarantee that she has
absolutely no regrets. Nor should she, because Uta Hagen has given so much
to so many."
Uta Hagen's books, Respect for Acting (1973) and A Challenge for the Actor (1991)
grew out of decades of collaboration and exploration of the actor's craft.
In addition to honorary doctorates from Smith College, DePaul University and
Wooster College, in 1981 Uta Hagen was inducted into the Theatre Hall of
Fame, in 1983 into the Wisconsin Theatre Hall of Fame, and in July 1986, Uta
Hagen received the Mayor's Liberty Medal in New York City. In 1987 Uta
Hagen was given the John Houseman Award and the Campostella Award for
distinguished service.
When her husband, Herbert Berghof, died many years ago, Uta Hagen took
over the chairmanship of HB Studio and the theatre of the HB Playwrights
Foundation. Uta Hagen honored his memory by continuing to shape their
school as a source of inspired teaching and practice for theatre artists.
Uta Hagen has brought beauty, drama and dreams to the world, leaving her
extraordinary legacy every step of the way. She passed away in 2004.

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S U B S T I T U T I O N
extensionof realities,and put them in the placeof the fic-
tion in the play.
r0febsterdefinessubstitution as "the act of putting a per-
son or thing in placeof another servingthe samepurposei
to take the placeof." A young actressworking on the part
of Manuela in Children in Uniform was having difficulty
with the moment when Frailein von Bernberg,the teacher
shelovesand admires,confronts her with her torn chemise
and says,"This will neverdo!" Manuela must reactwith
deepshameand humiliation. The actresscould not make
this moment meaningful. Neither the garment nor the
actressplaying the teacherseemedto matter enoughto her.
AccidentallSI suppliedherwith a stimulatingsubstitution
for both teacher and chemise.I said, "!7hat if Lynn
Fontannehad a pair of your soiledpantiesin herhandand
showed them to you?" The actressturned beet red,
snatchedthe chemisefrom her Fraiilein von Bernbergand
hid it frantically behind her back.
Many of you are familiar with substitutionas it applies
technically to an individual moment in a play when the
given material fails to stimulate you sufficiently,and you
must searchfor somethingwhich will trigger an emotional
experience(asin the Manuelaincident)and sendyou into
the immediateactionof the play.I usetheword substitution
in a muchbroadersense.In fact,I could evenprovethat sub-
stitution can be usedin everymoment of the actor'shome-
work and throughout the rehearsalperiod for everystageof
the work. Consequently,it can have its effect on euery
momentof theactor'slife on stage.I usesubstitutionin order
to "make believe" in its literal sense-to makeme believe
the time, the place,what surrounds me, the conditioning
forces,my new characterand my relationshipto the other
characters,in order to sendmeinto the moment-to-moment
spontaneousactionof my newly selectedselfon stage.
In putting himself into the circumstancesof the play, a
Substitution
he expression"to loseyourself" in the part or in the
oerformance.which has so often beenusedby great
artists in the theater, has always confused me. I find it
much more stimulating to saythat I want "to find myself"
in the part. To oversimplify, theseartists obviously meant
that one should reiect the desireto show off, that one
shouldnot wallow in one'sown ego' that one shouldnot
trade on personal tricks. Instead, one should become
involved with the performance without concern for its
outerform, pyrotechnicsor personalsale.
Oncewe areon the track of self-discoveryin terms of an
enlargementof our senseof identiry and we now try to
apply this knowledge to an identification with the charac-
ter in the play,we must makethis transference,this finding
of the characterwithin ourselves'through a continuing
and overlappingseriesof substitutionsfrom our own expe-
riencesand remembrances,through the useof imaginative
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4. 1 73 6
talentedamateur(aswell as a geniusactor) often makes
substitutionsintuitively.If you askme if it is necessaryto
make a substitution for something that is already real to
you, my answeris NO. If it is real,you havealreadymade
the substitution.You tell me you believedit was raining
when you looked from your stagewindow into the wings.
Obviously,you took a specificrain (thereare numerous
types of rain: drizzle,,splashS gentle, torrential, pelting,
etc.)that you haveexperiencedin your life and put it into
the play at this moment.
An actresstold methat BlancheDuBois'younghusband
wasveryrealto her whenshedescribedhis deathin Street-
car, andchallengedthenecessityof makinga substitutionfor
him. It was apparentthat shehad instinctivelymadeone,
otherwisehewould havestayeda fiction on thepagefor her.
At eighteen,when I played Nina in The SeaGull with
the Lunts, many elementsof the part existedfor me in life.
Nina is a young, unsophisticated,middle-classgirl from
the country who is thrown in with a famous actressof
whom she is in awe and a famous man (a writer in the
play) whom shehero-worships.That a;asmy relationship
to the Lunts,so I was ableto usethem head-on.
ln Who's Afraid of Virginia Woofi Martha is the
daughterof a professorwhom she adores;she lives in
a collegetown; and as the play opens,sheand her hus-
bandarereturningfrom a facultyparty.l am thedaughter
of a famous professor whom I adored; I was raised in a
university town; I did attendmany faculty parties. Conse-
quently,thosethingswere real to me and directly usable
for that particular aspectof my work on the part. How-
ever,thesemomentswhere an actor's life and the play-
wright's createdlife meshare rare, and so the processof
substitutionmust be tl-roroughlyunderstood,developed,
and practiceduntil it becomesan ingrainedwork habit.
Everystageof the searchfor thepart needsendlesssub-
S U B S T I T U T I O N
stitutions from life experience(this includesreading,trips
to museums,art galleries,etc.).Evenbad frlmscan be of
serviceif the localehas authenticityfor you to the point
where you can believeyou were there. No director can
help you with your substitutionssincehe hasnot beena
part of your life experience.He will help you with the
character elementshe is after, dictate the place, the sur-
roundings,the givencircumstances,and defineyour rela-
tionship to the other charactersin the play, but how you
make thesethings real to yourself,how you make them
existis totally privatework.
Let me illustrate some of the substitutionareasand
approximatelyhow you mustdealwith them(eventhough
I will be dealingwith similar problemsthroughout this
book).SupposeI am goingto work on theparr of Blanche
DuBoisin A StreetcarNamedDesire.I haveto hunt for an
understandingof-and an identification with-the charac-
ter's main needs:a need for perfection (and alwayswhen
andhotuhaveI neededthesethings);a romanticneedfor
beauty; a desire for gentleness,tenderness,delicacy,ele-
gance,decorum;a needto be loved and protected;a strong
sensualneedla needfor delusionwhen thingsgo wrong, erc.
If I return to my clich6 image of myself-the earthy,
frank, gutsy child of n21u1s-l'rn in trouble and therewill
be an enormousdistancebetweenBlancheand myself.If,
on the other hand, I remember myself preparing for an
eveningat theopera(bathingand oiling andperfumingmy
bod5 soothingmy skin, brushingmy hair until it shines,
artfully applyingmakeupuntil the little creasesarehidden
and my eyeslook larger and I feelyounger,spendinghours
over a silky elegantwardrobe,and a day over the meal I
will servebefore the opera, setting out my freshestlinen,
my bestcrystal and polished silver among dainty flowers);
if I recallhow I weepovera lovelypoemby Rilkeor Donne
or Browning, how my flesh tingles when I hear Schubert
THE AC]'OR
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5. THE ACTOR S U B S T T T U T I O N
for myselfthrough substitutionsand combinationsof sub-
stitutions.
I never had a sister,nor did I have a relationship with
another girl which was psychologically identical to
Blanche'swith Stella.I may put togethermy relationshipto
a girl who "felt" like a younger sister(of whom I expected
respectand attention, whom I enioyed bossingand giving
advice to, and whom I loved) with a relationship to a
friend upon whom I felt dependentfor love and comfort. I
may evenusea dozenelementsfrom a dozendifferent rela-
tionshipsfrom my past and put them togetherto build this
new relationshipwith my stageStella,endowingher at dif-
ferent momentsin the play with theseborrowed qualities.
I must follow an identical procedurewith eachof the other
charactersin the play.
Let me emphasizethat this processis in flux from the
beginning of my homework until the rehearsalshave
ended.The example of Blanchewas given to show you a
variety of areasin which you must hunt for substitutions
and to give further reasonsfor the necessityof your under-
standingthis hunt. But there are many more aspectsof the
work not yet touched upon, which when put together
should resultin the action for the character,what the char-
acterwill do. To do is a synonym lor to act. At this point,
we are nowherenear the acting; I am still in the processof
building a senseof reality and faith in my character.
'$fhen
an actor hasdifficulty in finding a substitutionfor
the content of a given sceneasa whole, hecan usually find
the root of the problem in the fact that he'sbeing too lit-
eral.Many actorstake the outer eventand the outer words
at facevalue.For example,the charactersays,"I hateyou"
under circumstanceswhere he is actually crying out for
attention from someonehe loves.But the actor works only
for the hate.
Faced with Othello's final scenewith Desdemona,an
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chamber music, how tender I feel at a soft twilight' how
il.to.ta a someonepulling out a chair for meat the table
;.;;**g
"
c"r doo.ior mi or offeringmetheirarm for.a
-"i[ i" ihe park-then I am beginning to find within
-ys"l{ ,"alitie. connectedwith BlancheDuBois' needs'
I was not raised on an elegantplantation like Belle
Reve,nor haveI lived in Laurel, Mississippi, butlhavevis'
iJ .t"gu", mansionsin theEast,I haveseenmanyphoto-
graphs
"of
Faulkner country and estates'I havetoured some
if theSo"th,andfrom a conglomerateof theseexperiences
I can now makemy BelleReveand startto bulld a reallty
for my life therebeforethe play'sbeginning'^
Unfortunately,I haveneverbeenin New Orleansor the
French Quarter, but I have rcad a great deal' seenmany
filrrr,
"nin.*rreels.
I haveevenrelatedthe FrenchQuarter
of New Orleans, rn a way' to a little secdon of the Left
s""fr" Pariswhere I oncelived to make it real to myself'
The Kowalski apartment itself, which is dictated for me
by the playwright' the designerand the director' must' nev-
.nt a.rt,
'be
,iade real to me by substitutions from my
own life. It is I who must makethe senseot cramp€dspace'
the lack of privacn the disorder and sleaziness'the empty
beer cans
"nd
rr"i. cigarettebutts, the harsh streetnoises
"it
-ou. in on me chaotically and frighteningly' Each
objector thing that I seeor comein contactwlth must De
."d" purti.o[t so that it will servethe new me and bring
about th. psychologicaland sensoryexperiencesnecessary
to animatemY actlons.--
io A"a, reality for the fatigue,the heat,the oppression'
I will haveto examinemy own life and senses'In my tela-
if""tf+ to Stella,Stanley,Mitch, their friends and neigh-
bors (as well as to my young husband,-my parents and
*f",rt.r, and th" tt"ueling '"1t"'lu", all of whom I talk
aboutbut who do not appearin theplay),I will haveto.do
a backbreakingiob if I am to bring them to a full reality

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actor may protest' "But how can I find a substitutionwhen
I've neverhadthedesireto murderanyone?"Or theDesde-
monamay complain,"I know I shouldbe terrified,but no
one haseverthreatenedto kill me!" In both instancesmy
answerwould be, "I hope not!" But, if at this late stagein
the eventsof the play the actorshavenot acquiredsufficient
nourishmentto zupply a reality for their immediatestateof
being and consequentneeds,they must searchfor.the psy-
chologicalspringboardwhichwill sendtheminto theimme-
diateivents. They musthunt out thepsychologicalobiective
of the scene,and for that theycanfind the substitution'
If I amDesdemonain this scene,I shouldseethat I want
to copewith a foreboding of an unspecifieddisaster'I want
to riJ myselfof a senseof mounting terror. As illogical asit
may sound, I can usean experienceof waiting in a hospi-
tal room prior to surgery,evena dentist'soffice prior to a
tooth extraction. The fears that rush in on me are larger
and lessstatic than somefictional, preconceivedfear for a
Desdemona.
If you misunderstandme and again think too-literally
that during the performance' while lying in a bedroom in
Cyprus, you should be imagining yourself in a
-
dentist's
oifi.. yon have skipped the inevitable step of taking thrs
substitutedpsychologicalreality and transferring it to the
existing circumstancesand eventsin the play: transferring
theessf,nceof the experience(not the original event)to the
scene.
Othello. in turn, should look for the psychologicalneed
for retribution, for having to fulfill a great obligation
which tortures him and gives him pain' The actor rs
stoppedover and over again by his senseof hunting for a
simiiarity of eventsin the play and in his own life, rather
than a similarity of psychologicalexperiences(for exam-
ple, the need to punish a child) which then should allow
him to acceptthe eventswith faith.
suBsTrTUTtoN 4r
Relativelyeasierto understandand applyarethosesub-
stitutions usedto find a givenmoment or task in the events
which seeminsufficiently real (the previously mentioned
scene between Manuela and Fraiilein von Bernberg).
Another kind of exampleoccurredwhen I wasworking on
the monologue of Mistress Pagein The Merry Wiuesof
Yindsor.Shehasjust receiveda love letterand gradually
realizesit is from Sir John Falstaff, which outragesher.As
I was isolaringthe monologuefrom the plry for an exer-
cise,I had no acror to endow with the necessaryrealitiesof
my Falstaff. The clich6 image of Falstaff with his wide-
brimmed hat, puffy red cheeks,mustachesturning upward,
pointed beard and bushy eyebrows,and high ruff around
his fat neckdidn't helpmeat all. Then I thought,..rVhatif
I read this letter and discoveredSidneyGreenstreetor
JackieGleasonhad written it to me?" Suddenlxthe con-
tents of the words in the letter moved in or, rne ,t.ongly
and mademe laugh,outragedme, amazedme, etc.I had
worked with Sidneyand knew him personallyand adored
him. but even if I hadn't, my knowledgeoi his work ir.
films might havestimulatedme similarly, far more than the
conventional imageof a Falstaff.
In The Country Girl, thereis a point whereBernieDodd
ca.llsGeorgieElgin a "bitch." This should act on me as
deeplywounding,insulting,and producea shockedgasp.
But the word itself doesnot mean much to me. I substi-
tuted anotherword. Sfhat if he calledme a ,.. . . . ,'?That
word doesshock and wound me. I imaginedthat Bernie
hurled that word at me, and it drove me up from my chair.
ln the sameplay, there *",
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band, Frank Elgin, betrayed me with a lie and I had ro
swallow it. My next given action was to take him to the
sink in his dressingroom and gethim a glassof water.I was
ableto receivethe betrayalcorrectly,but somehowit didn,t
seemto make the consequentdealingwith him specilic
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THE ACTOR
enough. But what if I thought of myself as a Put-upon
moth-erwith a naughty child? How would I then dealwith
my own daughter?The moment I applied this substitution
to my Frank, I discoveredthehou of taking his handJthe
hou of alrnostpulling him along with me,the how of giv-
ing him the glassof waterl theseactionsbecamespecific,in
fait, loaded. And I must give specialemphasisto the fact
that Frank was, at this moment' like a child to me, and
somethingbrand new happenedbetweenme and the actor'
I no longer neededto usemy daughter.I had used het to
find this reality on stage.
In eachexampleI havemadeI have also spelledout the
action which risulted from the substitution: Manuela
erabbedthechemiseand hid it; SidneyGreenstreetmademe
ihro* attd kick Falstaff'sletter; my substitution for Bernie
Dodd's word made me leap from my chair; my daughter
mademe pull my husbandto the sink. Ihave completedmy
substitutionsby making them synonymouswith the actor
on stage,the object,the word' theeventof my stagelife and
forrnJ" conrequentcharacter action. I have usedthe past
to make the presentreal' I am not playing in the past, but
now.lhave looked for substitutionsto believethe now, to
feelthe nowr and done both, in order to 6nd a spontaneous
action for now. I will probably repeatthis a hundred times
becauseit is so often misunderstood,but your substitu-
dons are complete only when they have becomesynony-
mous with this actor,this play's events,theseobiects you
are using in your stage life and produce a significant
action.You may evenforgetyour originalsouce-fine!
I'm certain you have seenan actor on stagewith real
tears streamingdown his face. If your only responsewas,
"Oh. look. realwater!" this actorwasgoingto his original
subsiitution,was doing his homework on stageand was
failing to connectit to his stagelife. Consequentlyhis tears
could not move an audienceor allow them to havegenuine
empathy for the character they were observing' To work
S U B S T I T U T I O N
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for an involvement for its own sake on stagebogs down
the movement of the plaS disconnectsyou from the play,
makesyou blind and deafto the play. Beware.
There is still another kind of substitution which I find
rmportant in my own work. It is evenlessliteral than those
I have already describedand lessparallel to rhe character.
It is evenmore personaland private but may besuggestible
and stimulating ro the acor in addition to his direct life
experience.I refer to suchintangiblesas colors,textures,
music, elements of nature. I must admit that I do not
know how to teachthis, and I assiduouslyavoid teaching
this.I can only makeyou awarethat these,.essences"can
be valuable sourcesand warn you to keep them to your-
self, asI do myself.
If a new characer has, ro me, elementsof light blue, a
field of clover,a Scarlattisonata,a toy poodle,a shiny blue
pond, a pieceof cut crystal-these essencesmay beof value
to my senseof self,my particularizations for my character.
But if thesehighly personalconceprsare brought our into
the open by the director or by me, they always becomea
hindranceto me. (I haveheard a well-known director com-
plain to an actor, "I askedfor October tones;you,re play-
ing in November tones." What is the actor supposedto do
with that?If the director tells me, ',I want this characterto
be like Scarlatti,like a poodle, like a field of clover,,'I feel
swamped by a generality. I question what his statement
means to him, and I head straight for general, quality
playing, rather than specificcharacter action. I start illus-
trating a prancing poodle with sharp little Scarlatti-like
tones,and I look to the director for approval: ,.Isit tinkly
enough?Frenchenough?Can you smellthe clover?"The
essencestopsfunctioning for me altogether.
Even the playwright can do a similar thing to you,
TennesseeWilliams says of Blanche DuBois that there is
somethingabout her "that suggestsa moth.', This imageof
his blockedme so that I sawmyself with flurtering arms on

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tippy-toes banging into a light bulb larger than myself' I
hada hardtimeovercomingit.
Thereis muchin a creativeprocessthat is almostintan'
gibly real and mysterious-why compound the felony and
makeit more so?
Pleaserememberthat in any exampleI havegivenyou
for substitutions,I was only making my own examples'
Vor, -ort find your own substitutions if they are to be of
real valueto you. If an exampleI havemade has stirred
you, it was an accident,or you simplytook mine asa sug-
g.rtio.,
"nd
found your own-possibly-a.similarone'Find
i,rcu,o*, substitutions-a warehousefull of them'
And let me warn you of the great trap of sharing your
substitutions with anyone' Don't fall victim to the tempta-
tion of revealing your little goodies to your director or
your fellow acto"rs("Do you know what I'm usinghere?"
etc.). The minute others are in on your source-and. they
wili probably be extremely interestedin knowing what it
is-t'hey becomean audienceto your sourcea^nd.evaluate
i,, .o.,r"qo.n, action accordingly,rather than.6nding their
own relaiionshipto the action' You have truly let the cat
out of the bag. Your substitution will be gone for you'
unusablefrom thenon.
Substitutionis zot an endin itself,not an endto involve
you for self-involvement'ssakewithout consequentactlon'
L", -. ,,"," strongly, in caseany of you have misunder-
stood, that substituiion is the aspectof the work which
,r.*gth"n, your faith and your senseof reality,in each
.,"n.if ,h. iotal work on character'lt is a way of bringing
aboutjustified,personalcharacteractions'
Particularizingor to makesomethingparticular,asopposed
to generalizingor to keepgeneral,is an essentialfor every-
iftiig in acti; from idintification of the character right
down to the tiniest physicalobiectyou come ln contact
with. I use the term particularizatioz so often that it
deservesa little time and space.
I can make an object,a person,a circumstantialfact,
etc.,particular by examining what is therc and breaking it
down into detail.As a simpleexample,let metakean ash-
tray. On occasion,the ashtray given me by the prop man
will be, under examination,exactly the sort of ashtray
calledfor in the play.Insteadof simply saying,"It's an ash-
tray sitting on the table in this Greenwich Village garret,"
I will seethat it ,stin sprayedto look likecopper,probably
came from the dime store, has rwo groovesto hold ciga-
rettes,is shiny with a few cigarettestainsin the bottom, is
lightweight, and I can deal with it correctly under the
given circumstances.I have made what is there particular
ratherthan just assumingany ashtray.
Now, this sameashtray sits on an elegantmarble table
in a Park Avenuepenthouse.It is supposedto belongthere,
and from the audiencemay even passfor elegant.I will
make it particular by endowing it with qualitiesit doesnot
possessby substitutingfrom my previousknowledgeof
elegantashtrays.Now, I turn it into real copper,assumeit
comes from Tiffany, and is heavier than it looks, and
would look even better if it were buffed up with polish. I
can make it even more particular, if necessary,by finding
psychologicalendowmentsor substitutions:My husband
gaveit to me last week for a sentimentaloccasion.I had
wanted it for a long time, and now it sits proudly on my
coffee table. Obviously, the simple act of flipping an ash
into this ashtray will be influenced by the way in which I
havemadeit particularto me in my characterin the play.
Every detail of place, objects, relationships to others,
my main characterneeds,my immediate needsand obsta-
cles must be made particular. Nothing should be allowed
to remainseneral.
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term "sensememory" in dealing with physiological sensa-
tions (heat,cold, hunger,pains,etc.).Of course,it is true
that a physical sensationsuchasheat or cold can produce
emotionssuchasirritation, depressionor anxiety;likewise,
an emotionalresponsecan be accompaniedby or produce
physicalsensations(suchas getting hot or goose-pimply,
becomingnauseated).
In life, an emotion occurs when somethinghappensto
us which momentarily suspendsour reasoningcontrol and
we are unableto copewith this eventlogically.(This is not
to beconfusedwith hysteria,a statein whichoneis flooded
by uncontrollable emotions,becomesillogical to the poinr
of losing awarenessof and contact with his surroundings
and senseof reality, a stateto be avoidedby the actor at all
costs.)At the moment of the releaseof the control, plus
our adjustmentto an attempt at control, we areouelcome
by tears,by laughter,or we rage,we bangour 6sts,or melt
with pleasure,to mention only a few results.As pleasur-
able as the idea of a big emorion may seemto an acror,
human beingsdo not want this lossof control and usually
make an attempt to copewith the emotion asit hits them,
If we realizethat we did not want this emotion, this loss
of control in our real livesat the time when it occurred,we
can seehow difficult a processit must befor the actor who
must now attempt to lecall the emotion and experienceit
all over again. This time it is recalledin the serviceof the
play asa genuinerevelationof a human being,not for any
kind of self-indulgenceor wallowing abort. (lf the charac-
ter the actor is portraying is self-indulgentemotionally o(
caught by hysterics,the actor'sselectionmust still bemade
to servethe play, not his oun need.J
To bring about tears,the beginning actor'stendencyis
to think sadthings, to pump for that mood or rhat general
stateof being,to try to remembera sadoccasion,the story
of that occasion,and then pray to God that somehow he
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f.
EmotionalMemorY
Tl motionalmemoryor emotionalrecalldealswith the
-Dorobl"rn of finding a substitutionin order to release
,rr",'Ul* U".r, of tearsJh" shriek of terror, the frt of laugh-
;;; .i.., demanded by the playwright, the director or, by
vourselfasinterpreterwhen the givencircumstancesot an
i-mediate .u"r,i in the play (somethingdone to you by
,o-.,ii"g or someone)fail to stimulateyou sufficientlyto
Lri"g i, ai"", spontaneously.Somedmesthe direct substi-
tud; (Lynn Fontanne for Fraiilein von Bernberg) is not
.rrgg.*iUi" enoughto bring about the desiredresult' Then
irr3i"rt -*, go"d..p", in the searchfor the memory of a
big emotional moment.
bccasionallS the term "emotional memory" is inter-
changedwith
';sensememory" Tg me, th.eyare different' I
Iink
Yemotionalmemory" with the recallof a psycholoqi-
cal or emodonal responseto an eventmoving in on me
*hi.h orod,r.., sobbing,laughter,screaming,etc' I usethe

10. E M O T I O N A L M E M O R Y
The consequenceof this discoveredprocedure is end-
less.You will learn to build your own storehouseof little
trigger objects.In rehearsalyou will not spendendlesstime
or-rdigging for past euents;in performanceyou will avoid
"leavingthestage,"so to speak,while your mind wanders
through a seriesof past adventureshoping that you will
find a specificstimulus. You should have found and filed
away many, many specificobiects, one of which you will
now connect and make synonymous with the event, the
person, or the obiect of your stage life to trigger the
responseyou need.
As for questioningthe logic of the object you usefrom
your own experienceto take the piaceof the oneyou need
on stage,let me give an example (especiallyfor the literal-
minded student,which, I assureyou, is not intendedto be
facetious).Supposeyou are working on Uncle Vanya, and
you needa big emotional responsefor the moment when
Uncle Vanya surprises Yelena in the arms of Astrov, a
moment when reiection and a senseof loss storm in on
him. Supposethen that you haveisolateda red apron from
an experiencein a kitchen when your girl friend's aunt,
wearing a red apron, rejected you and turned you out.
How do you know that Vanya himself didn't link the
moment with Yelenawith his own red apron, his own sud-
den recall of a moment of betrayal with his own early
rejection?After all, all of our emotional reactionsare
basedon a kind of pile up from our past.
I must warn you, at this point, to avoid the examination
of any past experiencewhich you have nevertalked about
or wanted to talk about. Here you will be on dangerous
ground becauseyou will not know what can happen to
you, and without an understandingor a degreeof objectiv-
ity to the experienceit is uselessto you artistically.There
are teacherswho actually force acrors into dealing with
somethingburied (their responseto the deathof a parent,
49
48 T H E A C T O R
I
I
I
I
will be catapulted into an appropriate emotional-response
somewhere;long the way' I usedto make all of thesemis-
takes and co.,ld ,reu.r understand why once in a while'
somewherealong the line, somethingdld indeedhappento
me. But I must emphasizethat it happenedonly once in a
while, not inevitabiy,and it usually took a long timc-before
it occurred. SometimesI managedto work myself into a
neartrauma offstage,which brought me on with the sensa-
tion of moving in g1ue.After a few years,I discovered.intu-
itively that *h"t ,"rrt me correctly was a tiny remembered
object only indirectly connectedwith the sad event: a
poik"-do, ii.., an ivy leaf on a stuccowall' a smellor sound
of sizzling bacon, a greasespot on the upholstery'.things
a, se.mittgtyillogicalasthose.I usedthesesmallobjectsas
stimuli suicessfullyand questionedtheir logic only in dis-
cussion.
Later, I learned from Dr' JacquesPalaci, a close.friend
trained in psychology' psychiatry and human behavior'
that this liitle indirect object was the releaseobject, a
releaseof the censorwhich movesalongwith us and says'
"Don't losecontrol." This apparentlyinsignificantobject
had beenunconsciouslyperceivedand associatedwith the
originalemotionalexPerience.
io e*p..i"r,c" for yourself what I am speaking about'
tell a friend the story tf
"n
,rnh"ppy eventin your life:-tell
hi-, fo, example,
"boot
u time when your lover walked
out on you, blaming you uniustly for infidelity' Now tell
your friend what suriounded the event;describeeverything
yoo ."n remember about the weather' the pattern of the
i."o".. u branch brushingagainstthe windoq the rum-
plei collarof your lover'sshirt,thesmellof the-after-shave
'he
*as *eari.rg, a frayedcorner of the carpet' the tune that
was playing o"nthe radio as he left, etc'' etc', etc' One of
th"se obj".is will suddenlyreleasethe pain anew and you
will weep again.
rl
tl
h
;
rl
' l

11. T H E A C T O R E M O T I O N A L M E M O R Y
I
t
I
I
5o
or the trauma of a bad accident).What resultsis hysteria
or worse,and is, in my opinion, anti-art. Wearenot pursu-
ing psychotherapy.If you feel mentally sick or disturbed
and in need of it, by all meansgo to a trained doctor or
therapist, brt not to an acting teacher.
Ifhen I say that you must have distance from the
experienceyou wish to useasan actor'I am not referring
to time, but to understanding.In 1938, I had an experi-
encewith the deathof someoneI loved deeplywhich I still
cannot fully cope with or discuss,and therefore I cannot
useasan actress.Yet' I havealso had an experiencein the
morning which I was able to digest and put to use by
evenrng.
Actions themselves,verbal and physical,can generate
strong emotions and can sometimesbe as stimulating
to an emotionalreleaseasany rememberedinner object'
(By inner object I mean an object not outwardly present
but an obiect existing and representedin one's mind
only.)The simpleact of bangingmy fist on the table can
bring about a feelingof rage.A logicalreasonor motiva-
tion for doing so can load the action for me. Motivated
pleadingwith someonefor forgiveness,and sendinga.ver-
bal or physical action of begging,stroking or clutching
may produce a waterfall of tears' The act of tickling
,o-"on. gently can make me join in a fit of giggles'I
don't mean to recommendthat you make a practice of
predetermining the expression of the action to find the
imotion but there is a continuous feeding of the action
by the sensationor emotion' and the emotionis furthered
by the action.
rWhenyou claim that an emotion or a recalledobject is
wearing out for you by repetition, that it haslost freshness,
you are failing technically becauseof a number of possible
reasons:
1. You are stoppingto demandthat you feel,because
you havenot madeyour obiectsynonymouswith the
oneon stage.
2. You areanticipatinghow or at what secondtheemo-
tion shouldmanifestitself.
3. You have dwelt on the emotion for its own sake,
ratherthan for furtheringyour srageaction.
4. You are weighing the degreeof intensity of previous
useof the emotionalexpenence.
5. You are fearful that the emotion will eludevou. erc
etc.
Is it not monstrousthat this player here
But in a fiction,in a dreamof passion,
Could force his soul so to his own conceit,
That from her working all his visagewanned;
Tearsin his eyes,distraction in's aspect,
A broken voice,and his whole function suiting
rI/ith formsto hisconceit?
[Hamlet2.2.535-5411
(Conceitmeansconcepthere,not vanity,and thisis still
what it's all about,don't you agree?)
I
l

12. S E N S E M E M O R Y
5
5 3
sequenceof our stageexistence.It alwaysirritatesmewhen
a director or teacher or fellow actor commands me to
relax, or concentrate,or usemy imagination when my fail-
ure in theseareasspringsfrom a lack of understandingof
the given task. If a playwright or director specifiesthat I
should be sound asleepand then wake up at the play's
opening, and I haven't learnedwhat is physicallyentaiied
in sieepingor waking up, I will probably lie down and fight
for relaxation while, actually,my musclestenseup and my
nervestingle with anxiety. I will fight for concentrationas
my mind racesto inconsequentialsbecauseno onehastold
me on what to concentrate,and my imagination fails me
completeiyin the premiseof sleepingor waking becauseno
one hastold me down what paths to sendit. Evenmy sen-
sory memory doesn't help unlessI were to be allowed an
hour or so, and then I might actually fall asleepwhich, in
turn, would not helpme to wake up on cue.
It's a relief to discover what the simple physiological
processof sleepingand waking entails,andto find out how
I can reproduceit in a matter of seconds;how I can exe-
cute it quickly, evenafter running from my dressingroom
after a quick costume change, jumping into the bed on
stageas the curtain risesand the lights come up, and con-
vince myself and the audiencethat I havebeendeepasleep
and am now waking up. To do this, settle your body
snugly into the bed, concentrating on only one area-the
shoulders,or the hips, or the feet,for example.Now, close
your eyesand centerthem straight aheadunder your eye-
lids which is the true sleepposition (not downward the
way they usually are positioned when we first close our
eyes).Then directyour inner attention to an abstractobject
not connectedwith the given circumstancesof the play-
a leat, a cloud, a wave. Now, direct your inner attention
from the abstractobject to somethingin the given circum-
stances-fhat time is it? Have I oversleot?What must I
SenseMemorY
(r ensememorv.therecallof physicalsensations'is otten
)eari., for theactorthantherecallof hisemotions'lf we
asactorshaveany occupationalhazards,hypochondriais
perhapsoneof them.Most of us areinterestedin our sen-
,"tions,
".td
examineand discussthem and on occasion
makemore of them than may be normal for a nonactor' It's
all right aslong aswe rememberthat thesesensationscan
t. ot""f.tly e*p-.e.r"d. Someactors are.sohighly sensitized
and suggestiblethat a mereconversatlonabout a parn' a
chill or"'"tl itch will convince them that they are similarly
afflicted.Thoseactorsarethe exceptions'Most of ushave
to learn a correct techniquefor producing sensatronsso
that they will be readily availableto us on stage'
Sincethe body has an innate senseof truth, we must
learnsomephysi,ologicalfactsto help us avoid the viola-
tion of the physicaltruth' Sometimes,by a mereincorrect
bodilv adiustment we can shatter our faith in a whole
,l
I
,
t
I
I

13. T H E A C T O R SE N S E M E M O R Y 5 i5 4
)
I
I
I
I
do today? etc.Then openyour eyes'sit up and pursueyour
objective.Your eyeswill feel heavy,your body slowec
down as if a{ter a deep sleep,and by reflex your entire
behaviorwill be influencedfor the ensuingactivities'
If you are supposedto yawn' you must learn that the
physital ,."rot fo. yawning is a need for oxygen in the
t."in, Mot, of you open your mouths wide and exhale'
andthenjump to anotheractionbecauseit felt so peculiar'
Instead,you ihould inhale deeplyas you push your.iaw
down and back until the mouth opens,and you contrnue
to pull the air deeply into your lungs before forcing it up
into your head as you exhale.You can createa yawn at
will in this way so that your eyesmay evenwater'
You can fumble about on stageand believeit is very
dark when there'sactually enoughlight for the last row of
the balcony to seeyou' once you understandthat when
yo,l a.tualiy are in the dark your eyesarewide.open and
th. .or.l., around the eyesare expanded until the eyes
feel almost glazed.(l usedto think this occurred becauseI
was trying io ,ee bett.. in the dark' Then I realizedthe
conversewas true: eyeperceptionwas deadenedevenmore
bv this muscularexpansionthan by the darkness,but my
."r,r" of touch and i.ns" of soundwere heightened'Con-
centration was focused on the feet, the fingers and the
ears.)Experiment with this and you will discoverthat
through the one correct adjustment of the eyesyou can
".ro"iiy
believethat it is dark. Your hands and feet will
t.oly giope for a path through the furniture, and therewill
be.,o1-bar.assing indicationof stumblingaround'
Bringingaboutyour physicalsensationsfor the charac-
ter's sta;elife is fraught with many of the same.pitfallsas
the repioduction of emotional sensations'The actor's
t.ndency s to think hot all over,to think cold' tired, head-
ach6 siik, and then to wait anxiously for sensationswhile
notiling happens.Or sometimeshe waits and is amazed
when,by accident,somethingdoeshappen.If you aresup-
posedto behot, you mustfirst askyourselfwhereon your
body you are the hottest, Localize one area;for example,
under the arms, Remembera sensationof stickiness,of
perspiration trickling down, and then searchfor what you
do to alleviatethis sensation.Raiseyour arm slightly,seeif
you can pull your shirt or blousesleeveaway from the
underarm to let in a little air. In that moment of adiust-
ment, or attempt to overcomethe heat,you will have a
sensationof heat.The restof the body will feelhot, too.
You areto becold. Do not think cold all over.Localize
one areayou remembermost vividly; for instance,a draft
on the backof your neck.Try to recallthe sensationand
then immediatelyhunch up your shouldersand stiffen
your back a little, evenmake yourselfshiverif you like,
and you will havea sensationof cold. (lVeoftenshiveron
purpose,not only involuntarily, becauseshiveringincreases
the circulation.) The body will respond to the point where
you may end up hopping from foot to foot and rubbing
your handsin an effort to get warm (althoughit might
actuallybea.verywarm day).
Fatigueis a conditioncalledfor in endlessscenes.How
often haveyou seenthe entireactiondissipatedand out of
focusbecausethe actorwas draggingaboutand generally
trying to feeltired all ouer?Thereareso manyvarietiesof
fatigue.Ask yourselfwhy you are tired, and where.Sup-
poseyou have beentyping for hours. There is fatigue and
tensionin your back, acrossyour shoulderblades.Now
getup and stretchyour back,put your headbackand try
to relaxthe shouldermuscles.You will feelexhausted.
Or rememberyour fatigueon a hot dayin Augustwhen
you walked for hours in thin-soledshoes,and your feet
were hot and sore and more tired than the rest of your
body.Try to walk gentlyon your heelsto alleviatethe sore-
nessand burningunderthe ballsof your feet.Your whole

14. 5 6
T H E A C T O R
body will follow suit and be accompaniedby a strong sen-
sationof tiredness.
I am emphasizingthe adiustments to overcomrng tne
sensationsbecauseI believethat the sensationoccursmost
fully at the moment when we areoccupiedwith the attempt
,o or"rro*, it, not when we wait for it while trying only
to imagine and rememberit. Nor do I mean that you
shouldjump to an outer indication of the adiustmentwith-
o"t f"ith in the cause,or that you should concernyourself
with a desireto show that you have the sensation'Some-
timesyou questionwhether the sensationsand consequent
"dj,rr*.n,t
you make will communicate directly enough:
Witt ttr. audienceknow that I'm tired?, etc' If on the street
you seepeoplewithout knowing the circumstancesof their
iiu.s, it-may look to you as though the person$/ith a
heaiache is iired, or that the personwho hasa headachejs
hot, or that someonewith a backacheis chilly' However' in
"
pi"y yoru conditions are backed up by the playwright
""a
o,ft.t actors; your headachewill be referred to' the
heatwill be sharediy others,the nauseawill make you ask
for a doctor, etc. The concern lot showing the condition
must leadto indication and falseness'It is not your respon-
sibility to show the condition' but to haueit so you believe
it, and dealwith it in terms of the play's action-'
Eventhe old clich6 of wiping the sweatoff the forehead
to illustrate heat can becomenew and valid if you stimu-
i"t. th. ,.-.-brance of the sweat'the prickling and trick-
Iing down from your hairlineso that you needto wipe it
off with the back of Your hand'
If you require a cough, find the exact spot in.your
throai where you remember a tickle or scratch, and you
must cotgh to relieve it. If you want a head.cold' a
.topped-.tf, nose,localizethe senseof swellingin the uvula
ittti'*rt iobe hanging down at the back of your soft
palate) and ,ry ,o ,i"[o* asyou contract the uvula' Sud-
denly, your nose will feel stuffy, and if you blow it you
might evenproduce mucus.
For nausea,pinpoint the queasinessof the stomach,
inflateyour cheeksslightly,wait for salivato gather.Breathe
deeplyand you'll be convincedyou feel sick.
For headaches,recall a specificone in a specificspot. For
example,directly over the right eye. !7hat kind? Throb-
bing. What can you do to easeit? Slightlypush into it?
Riseaboveit? Pull back out of it? Theseare tiny adiust-
ments,but after stimulating the imagination to the remem-
beredfeeling,they will bring it into the presentfor you.
For a burn, recall the thin, tight feel of the skin on your
fingertip, and how it aches.Then blow on it, flip your hand
back and forth to easeit, and you'll be convincedyou just
burnedit.
Sometimesit's only the oozing blood which frightens
you when you cut yourself, but rememberwhen it hurts
and what you do asyou dab the wound with iodine.
Drunkenness,which crops up in countlesstragic and
comedic scenes,seemsto be one of the most difficult to
make specific,and traps even fine actors into a seriesof
clich6s.Perhapsit is becausein this state,with its endless
variationsfrom slightly tipsy,to staggering,to thick speech,
we have the hardest time remembering.To find it specifi-
cally entailsthe samestepsyou have usedin the searchfor
other physical sensations.First, localize the most sug-
gestibleareaofyour body,givein to it, and then attempt to
overcomeit. In my case,it is wobbly knees,a loose,weak-
enedcondition which I attempt to correct by straightening
and strengtheningthe knees.The other sensationsof dizzi-
ness,lack of eye-and-manualfocus seemto follow. My
tongue seemsfat and swollen so that I havea wild needto
overarticulate.0hen I am tipsy it usually manifestsitself
in a psychologicalneedto talk too much, and an assump-
tion that everyoneis interestedin anything I haveto say.

15. S E N S EM E M O R Y 5 9
5 8 T H E A C T O R
Sometimesyou ask, "7hat if I work for a headacheand
it stayswith me?"I canonly answer,"Work for an aspirin''
Rememberthe sensationwhen the headacheeasesoff,
whenyou hold yourselfverystill asthetensionleaves,and
eventLe back of your neckrelaxesasyou realizethe pain
is gone.
this technique-recalling a localizedsensationand find-
ing a physicaladjustmentto alleviateit-is applicableto
any condition you may be called upon to play' The--accu-
mulation of a lifetime of sensationsshould be sufficient
with our newly acquiredtechniqueto serveus for any con-
dition or combinationof conditionsdemandedby theplay-
wright. Even if we are to portray pregnancyor labor and
haven't had a baby, or are called upon to have consump-
tion or a heart attack, or to be stabbedto death,or any
sensationwhich, except for having a babn we hope we
won't ever experience,we can still find them within our
command if we apply theseprinciples,coupledwith a little
researchon the medical manifestationof the condition'
Use the knowledge of substitution to bring bronchitis or
pneumonia or a simple chest cold to Camille's consump-
tion; the rememberedgiddinessfrom too muchcough syrup
for a feeling of drunkennessin caseyou have never had a
drink; or the moment when you stayed under water too
long and came gasping to the surface as a substitute for
strangulation, etc.,etc.
To all this, add the magic "If" of imagination to help tie
it all up. I/I weredying!f I werein labor!
I trust that you now have sufficient examplesto help
you find your way for any sensoryproblem which might
arisefor you.
Let me warn you of some common erfors and mrsun-
derstandingsin the useof sensememory.The sensationsof
heat, cold, headache,drunkenness,nausea'and illness'
etc., are conditions of the scene;rarely is the sceneabout
the cold or the headache.The discoveryof the sensations
and how they influence you is there to condition your
actions truthfully in the scene,and with sensoryaccuracy
and faith, but it is not the final aim just to becold or have
that headacheon stage.
Furthermore,you are dictating the sensations-they are
not dictating you. You will have the sensationsto further
the actionsbut not so that theywill takeoverand put you
out of control. In line with this, let me statethat if a dan-
gerous or unpleasantsensorycondition exists for you in
your real life, at the sametime that your charactershould
haveit on stage,avoid it at all costs.If you arereallynau-
seatedat the time of havingto be nauseatedin your stage
life, simply avoid the condition or the curtain may haveto
be rung down. If you really have a headacheover your
right eye,work for a headacheat the back of your head,
otherwisethe real headachemay take overand put you out
of control, unableto fulfill your stagelife. If you are to be
drunk, don't get drunk to be real or the play will turn into
somethingotherthan the author intended.
In summation, let me statethe opinion that a correctly
functioning actor should, ideally, be the healthiest, least
neuroticcreatureon earth, sincehe is putting his emotional
and sensorylife to useby expressingit for an artistic pur-
pose.If he is employed in the theater,he has an opportu-
nity of making use of his anxieties, hostilities, pent up
tendernessthrough an artistic expression.I think that per-
hapsthepeoplewho call usneuroticor vain or exhibition-
istic are unaware how many talented actors are that way
only becausethey are without work opportunities, and
therefore releasetheir need for expressionin alcohol or
unreasonablebehavior-or perhapsthesepeopleare jeal-
ous that when we do function we can do what thev onlv
dreamof doing.

17. REALTTY
T H E A C T O R
76
takemusthavepertinence'A mereimitationof naturein
irrf"mfirt, daily aspectsistheantithesisof art'
'*
i" ,t . p."..ii.rg .h"p'ers,I havenot yet,differentiated
betweeniruth in life andtruth on stage'I haveconttnu-
lortu ,rr.r..a liferealities(andwill continueto do so)in
;;;k;;, ;. steerawavfromthemisconceptionsandcu.s-
tomsof old theaterconventions,falsetheatricalit5tricks
andeimmicks.Buttruth in lifeasit is' isnottruth on-stage'
ft;?;;t;ow into thetheaterit will melt'evenbefore
,fr. .,rr,luingoesup. I remembera playin,which.realmilk
il.if"a o*t"o" .rr" o" th" stagestove'The audiencewas
drsillusionedasthey audiblyspeculated9l
h:* thrs nao
beenmechanicallyachieved'lnLook Backin Anger'vlar'y
Ur.lt"t"a with a realsteamiron' Not onlydid theaudi-
arraaarrraor, "Realsteam!"astheymissedwhatshe,was
saying,but at one-performanceshewasscalded'anoTne
curtainwasrungdown'--in"r.
is a lovelystory aboutthe old German-actor
Albert Bassermanduringrehearsalsfor a playin which it
*". ,oppot.a to rain' The directorandthedesigner-were
;;;;G;4"", realwaterandhow it couldbeproduced
;; ;g". Bassermaninterruptedth.em:"x0henI co1t1-on
t*gi, ?it-".'" And everythingin hisbehaviorconvinced
vov th^t it didl'"i."."'or"t.a
with anactorwho hadto takemeby the
urrrr,,o .jh"i. -.' After showinghim that I had to put
L"r. ."f.""p on my bruised
"'rns
th"tt on rny face' he
"p"ilgir.a
*ith, "it" sorry,butI
tt'ilt l:lt l:t^,,.i"d
pro-pdy went on stageand bruisedme again' hinally'at
one performanceI screamedas he dug his fingersinto the
;;J;;;i ;t arms'He forgot hislinesand let-goof me in
*ild .o.f,rrior-,, Backstageheconfronted me: "You weren't
;;;;;;;; '.'eam th;e'" I explained' "I'm sorrv' but I
reallvfelt it." He neverhurt me agaln''"i tit
"",';t."r
'
,ltply to slugii out in a stagefightand
possibly sendan actor into the orchestrapit or to the hos-
pital. Really hurting someoneis like the boiling milk: the
audienceconcernsitself with the wounded actor insteadof
with the characterhe is portraying. To bring about a
"real" fight requiresthe detailed and controlled definition
of eachmovement.The physicalaction must beasconcrete
asthe words of the playwright.
The intruding realities which spring from our private
lives must be put aside so that our stagerealities will be
allowed to evolve spontaneously.If my Romeo has garlic
on his breath it is unreal to the play. It is also unreal if I
"useit" asis.(Somanyactorsemploythisphrase,evidently
meaning that whateuermovesin on them on stageis sup-
posed to be spontaneously put to :use,In Romeo and
luliet, garlic is not a part of Shakespeare'sdictum. I can
plead with the actor after the performancenot to eat gar-
lic again, and if this fails, try to ignore it or desperately
endow it with attar of roses.
To swat at a live roach on stagein a room that should
be a palacemay not only be irrelevant to the play and the
character,but will take the audienceaway from the truth
of the stagelife. You must seewhat you haue to seein
order to tell the storS or seeit so that it doesn'tdistort the
story.
To go from the ridiculous to the sublime,I would like to
cite the example of Jean Louis Barrauit's Hamlet, in the
sceneof his advice to the players. While the chief player
was emotionally reciting about Hecuba, Hamlet quietly
approached him and literally lifted a teardrop from his
cheek,balancingit on two ingers and regardingit in won-
der.It later catapultedhim into, "Is it not monstrousthar
this playerhere. . ." etc.This is an exampleof poeticaction
which might neveroccur in life, but which becamereal and
deepiy meaningful on stagebecauseBarrault really did it
and believedit so that we in the audiencedid, too.

18. 7 8
T H E A C T O R
In our searchfor genune emotion and sensationand
tr"tftf"f behavior and action, we should never forget that
.ii."ir"" J."t goal.Nor shouldweforgettheobligation
io it
"
pt"y*rigf,t' we canperhapsaimto give-himeven
;";;'fi;;i;;;J hop'dfoibv ourrevelationofthedetail
of thehumanbeingheenvisaged'-'il;;;i;g
the differencebetweenrealitv in life and
r."lit;-;;,,"T.lstov said,"somethingis added
lo
nature
.iiil ;;;;i,i;.; b"fo"';' That "something"istheartist's
r"it, .f view and his power of selection'which comes
from ltfeandmakesfor newlife'
PART TWO
The Object
Exercises

19. Introduction
performing musician,a singeror a danceris extremely
fortunate in that he is presentedwith specificexercises
from the time he decidesto pursue his chosenart form.
He is forced into certain disciplinesand consequently
learnsto developthem. He must usethem daily, and they
stay with him until the end of his career.He can practice
them at home and put in as many hours a day as he
chooses,to perfecthis abilities.
As an actress,I have always envied theseartists. I can
participate in someof their disciplines.I can study dance,
and practicemy stretchesand pli6s alone.I can study voice
and speech,and practicemy exercisesalone.I can study an
instrument and enlargemy musical sense.I can read and
study literature,history and plays, and know that I am
enlargingmy understandingof the theater.I can work on
roles to a certain extent, and I can work on monologues.
But in the area of human behavior.its discovervand
8 r

20. 8z THE oBJEcr ExERcIsEs
enlargement,I usuallyhaveto wait for a part and rehearsals
with my fellow actors. This always frustrat€d me as-an
actress,and so I began to deviseexercisesfor myself to
tackle a variety of technical problems that continued to
botherme.Now I presenttheseten Obiect Exercisesto yo.u'
Let us take the problem of trying to find and re-create
two ordinary minutesout of life when alone-two minutes
when I say I wasn't doing anything (impossible!),when
nothing happened.To saythis is akin to sayingthat noth-
ing hafpens in Chekhov,to which I have heard the retort!
"Nothing doeshappenexceptthat one world comesto an
endand anotherbegins."
'lfhat
arethe componentsof two consecutiveminutesof
mv life-not in crisii, but in the pursuit of a simple need?
What do I have to know if I want to re-createthose two
minutes of existence?
Character.
Century,year,season,dan
mrnute.
Country, city, neighborhood,
house,room, areaof room.
Animate and inanimate
objects.
Past,present,future, and the
events,
Relationto total events,other
characters,and to things.
Character,main and immedi-
ate objectives.
Obstacles.
The action:physical,verbal.
I N T R O D U C T I O N 6 1
Theseare the questionswe must ask ourselves,and
explore and define in order to act. For the time being, I
would like to freeyou from the interpretativeproblems of
a givenplay and a character,and ask you to apply these
questionsto a simple exerciseof finding and re-creating
two minutes out of your own life when you were alone.
Example: I am sitting at this typewriter writing this
chapter.
Who am l? I have a strong, still too narrow,
senseof identity and self-image
formed by my parents,my origins,
education.'sociologicalinfluences,
loved ones and enemies-all the
thingsa humanbeingis conscious
of.
10 a.u. on September1,2,1"972.
'We're
in the middle of presidential
campaigns.Vietnambombingraids
areon the morningnews.The air
is very still. The light from outside
has a slightly hazy glare.I am sit-
ringin a sunsuitbecauseit is quite
warm.
My housein Montauk. I am work-
ing at the white Formica table in
the dining areaoff the living room.
The kitchen is to my left. Through
the window to my right I can
seethe sundeck,and beyondit the
grassydunestoppedby theshellof
a World War II lookout tower,
long abandoned.Behind me the
sun is pouring through the living
room,
'V/hat
time is it?
'Who
am I?
'V/hat
timeis it?
Wheream I?
'What
surroundsme?
'What
arethegiuen
circumstances?
Whatismy relationshiP?
Whatdo I want?
'what's
in my way?
'V/hat
do I do to get
u.,hatI want?
'Where
arn I?

21. 8 j84 T H E O B J E C T E X E R C I S E S
The typewriter is new. House
plants, which I recently watered,
are in the corner.The white table-
top reflectsbrightly. In the kitchen
a fly is buzzing over the newly
washedbreakfastdishes.My Poi-
sonouscigarettesare at my elbow,
and the ashtray needsemPtYing.
My poodles bark at a Passingcar.
My notes lie piled up in disorder
behind the typewriter.
My collaborator on this book is
expected. !7e have been working
all summer.I havebeenProcrasti-
nating since 7 a'.ut.by cooking,
cleaning,arrangingflowers,water-
ing the grass, arranging unan-
swered mail and all my notes on
"The ObjectExercises."My book
is yearsin the making. A deadline
is comingup.
To the book: it representsthe ex-
pression of my work both as a
teacherand asan actress.
To Haskel: he is my collaborator,
and also my house guest during
thewriting of this book.
To beof service,to bea particiPant
in society as well as to be needed
by thoseI love. To be a Part of art
and nature. To live up to resPonsi-
bilities.
(Main Objectiue)-To finish this
chapter.
I N T R O D U C T I O N
What'sin my uay!
(Immediate Obiectiue)-To havea
few pages to show him when he
arrivesat noon.
Time: he's coming in two hours.
'Weather:
its gorgeousoutside.The
garden:the vegetablesneedto be
weeded.I would enjoy a frothy,
cold drink. I'm unclearabout the
organization of the chapter.The
onionskin paper crinkles in the
typewriter.My poor typing skill,
and many typos.
I type.I maketypos.I raceahead.
I light a cigaretreafrer emptying
theashtray.I battlewith content.I
battle with order.I take a breather
outdoors,and sniff the clematis,I
yell at the poodles.I write ten sen-
tences with clarity. I deservea
drink.
Theseareasare the essentialsto examinein order to
define what makes this moment in my life evolve. Every
one of them and many more influence and make this
momentinevitable.The examplesI havemadein eacharea
are minimal to finding my behavior for the moment. Some
of the things are primary and deal with the consciousexe-
cution of the task, and someare secondary.
In turning this examination of a few minutesof your life
aloneinto a practicalexercise,I askyou not only to testall
aspectsmentionedabovebut to pinpoint all of thephysical
andpsychologicalsensationsinherentin them,and thento
makea layout of the actionfor the two minutesyou have
examined.Then seeif you can re-createthem as if for the
first time,
Vhat surroundsme?
What are thegiuen
circumstances?
Whatismy
relationshiP?
'What
do I tuant?
V/hat do I do to get
what I want?

22. T H E O B JE C T E X E R C I S E S I N T R O D U C T I O N 8 7
8 6
I havegivenan exampleof somethingI was doing nora
at this m"omentof writing, I could take a remembered
eventfrom lastyear,or seasonor week' I might selectthe
sameobjective(to finish a chapter) and put it at a-different
time (March 11, two yearsbeforein GreenwichVillageon
, .u-, ,1..,y day, with knocking radiators in. an untidy
up"a-.nr. i"h. g^tb"g" men areon strike'I might havea
head cold, be wearing an old bathrobe and terry-cloth
.."ffr. n marred l"athe.-top desk, my twenty-year--old
Remington typewriter, hot tea at my elbow' some vrcks
corlgh
-dropt
and Kleenex' the telephoneringing inces-
,unriu, ur,*"nr.d company coming for dinner at night'
etc.)and I will discoverdifferentbehaviorand actions'- -OUj..,
exercisesshouldnot beimprovisations,although
a desreeof the rehearsalprocesswill obviously involve
.h"-I But the final work shouldbe exactlylike that on a
sceneor a play, and you should be able to repeata pre-
cisely defined io.t."pt broken down into actableelements
f.o-p"r"bl" to the scoreof a musician),asif it were hap-
""ti.*
f"t the first time. The only differencebetweenthe
i".r.i"t. and a sceneis that you will be usingyourself
insteadof a character'andyour life experienceinsteadot a
oi"u. fh. addition of the play requiresthat you find your-
i"ii in
"
.rt"tuoer, usingthe auditory and visual conceptof
the playwright, director and designer'
iou'will work on theseexercisesby yourself under cir-
cumstanceswhen you find yourselfalone' This will also
help you to developdiscipline,which most actorsar€ so
."ily'l".king-the iiscipline to work and to explore all by
vouiself. (No partner to tell you, "Let's get down to
wo.k.") Step2 will be the testingof your exercisein com-
-orri."tiorr'wi h your teacherand peers' The final work'
when you apply the problemsof any exerciseto a play'
*itt, o'f .o"tti, includi the powerful recognition not only
of the writer but of the other actors'
Whenyou firstwork on theexercisesyou will probably
balk for all of the reasonsI mentionedin dealingwith
"Identity." You will think you are boring,and you would
rather look for eccentriccircumstancesor "interesting"
events.Rememberthe cat!
Don't becomebad playwrights.What should compel
you into actionsare definiteneeds,not show-off inven-
tions. Don't look for melodrama or eccentrictales, no
eviction notices,suicidenotes or tragic love affairs. An
actor once brought in an exercisein which he prayedto
God in a cathedral,ran behindthe curtain, fired several
shots, staggeredback on stage,and died in front of the
Madonna.Don't look for a B-moviestory,but a discovery
of your behaviorunder simplecircumstanceswhen fulfill-
ing a preciseneed.To convincea group of your colleagues
that you are aliue with forward-moving action for two
minutes-that this neverhappenedbeforein spiteof the
precisenessand detail of your selections-is what you
shouldaim for,If you canconvincinglycreatefwo minutes
on stagein which you existasif you werealoneat home,
you will havesucceeded.
The very fact that you have no playwright's interpreta-
tion to hide behind ("But the characterwould feel, Da
would do, or wouldn't do . . .") forcesyou to examine
all sourcesand behavior with no excuses.You also are
establishinghabitsof self-explorationwhich later can be
put to usefor character.Furthermore,you will establish
the habit of working in many of the areasyou must usein
a scene.The exercisewill help you to test selectionand
pertinence.
After having rehearsedand devised the exercises,the
problem of presentation-how and where:-will be an
individual one. If you are a professionalactor,you will
undoubtedlyhave a studio or workshop available,with

23. 88 THE oBJEcr EXERcrsEs
sufficientspace,equippedwith basicfurniture and props (a
benchor sofa,a bed,a bureauor desk,a cabinetthat can
do for a refrigerator, tables-one of which can substitute
for a stove or sink---chairs, a blanket, some cushions or
pillows, books, bottles,magazines,ashtrays,etc.).If you
are lucky, there will be a movable flat or two with work-
able doors, and perhapseven a window. You will present
your scenesto a teacher or your peersfor criticism and
possiblereworking.
If you are an aspiring actor,you should find a qualified
teacherwho will provide you with the samephysicalsetup,
and if you are a teacherinterestedin testingtheseexercises
you shouldprovideall of the abovefor the students.
Necessarypersonalobjectswhich you know can't be
supplied,like clothingor an iron or a particulardish,pot,
glassor book, must bebrought by the actor.As a matter of
fact, peoplewho know me will recognizeanyonestudying
with me asthey approachthe Studio, becausethey are usu-
ally lugging so many shopping bagsfull of props.
Sinceplace is crucial, let me remind you that when you
examineeveryaspectof it at home to seewhat influenceit
plays on your life, alreadybegin to make considerations
for how it can be transferred and constructed elsewhere.
Usereal objects.Thesearenot pantomime exercises.Avoid
any task that will force you to pantomime an activity with
an incomplete object (like opening or closing doors when
thereare no doors to work with). Take what's there and. if
necessary,endow it physically and psychologically with
what it shouldbe.
The exercisesare not mute. If you find that you grunt,
use expletives,or verbalize when alone, fine. It will help
you with later exercises.
A minimum of one hour of rehearsal for each two-
minute exerciseis recommended-and by rehearsalI mean
doing it, not just thinking about it.
I N T R O D U C T I O N 8 9
Testing the communication of your selectedexistence
with your "audience"is, of course,the proof of the pud-
ding in the valuetheseexerciseswifi havefor you.
The Ten Obiect Exercises
1. The BasicObiect Re-creating behavior which
Exercise leadsto the achievementof a
simpleobjective
2. ThreeEntrances preparation and its influenceon
the entrance
3. Immediacy Dealing with the problems of
anticipationwhilesearchingfor
somethinglostor mislaid
4. The Fourth Wall The guaranteeof privacy while
using,not ignoring, the visual
5. Endowment
areaof the audience
Dealingwith objectswhich can-
not have total reality because
they might otherwise totally
control you; heightenedreality
6. Talking to Yourself The problem of the monolosue
7. Outdoors
8. Conditioning
Forces
a/ Relationship ro spaceand
nature
&/ Finding forward-moving oc-
cuparionwirhout the help of
turnrture and props
Learningto put togetherthree
or more sensoryinfluences-
heat,cold,physicalpains,hurry,
dark, quiet,etc.
(The last two exercisesemploy a characterfrom a play)

25. r5
Endowment
f his probably is the first exerciseyou will really enjoy
I *o.king on. lt containsthe essenceof make-believe'
andin itssimplestform:how to turn coldwaterinto boiling
;;;;;;;;"* trandv or bitter medicine-evenhemlock'if
vou choose;how to removemakeupwithout cold-creamor
l""or'i"- l. .r-,"vewithoutabtadern'* t':?-:.1,:-'..o.il'
*itiro.tt heat;how to eatmashedpotatoesand butterwrtn-
out gettingfat; how to removeseeminglysoddenclothing
with-outhavingbeenin the rain'etc'
"'n"*lJcit"pter
5, "SenseMemorn" and then' for the
orro.*
"f
the endowment exercise'find circumstances
t".i*
*ftr.tt yo., *ould be dealingwith tangible.objects
*liii-t *.tfa'ftave to be endowed with properttestnat
should not be real on stage'For example'take a.cup of
;;;";J ;; it with the propertv of steaming
l"i -'^"
i;.il;{ iustthink it's hot but recall how' asvou brlng 1t
,
"'.i^'t""t,
t.u pull back slightly from the steam' how
E N D O W M T J N T r r 3
you carefullyblow and puff acrossthe top of the cup to
cool the coffee,how you gently testthe rim of the cup with
your lips beforesippinga few drops and gingerlyletting
theliquid reston your ronguefor a secondbeforeallowing
it to slidedown your throat, how your eyespull shut as
you swallow and your mouth opensand you exhaleand
thentakein air to cool your mouth. Suddenly,that cup of
cold water becomeshot coffeeand staysthat way.
I might not evenwanr to apply real lipstick on stage,
becausewith nervoushandson an openingnight it could
slip overthe edgeof my mouth. If thereis no room in my
stageaction for gettingcold creamand tissuesand fresh
powder to repair the damage,I would rather endow a
rrode[,plasticlipstickwith color and greasinessasI stretch
my lips (alreadymadeup) and smearit on evenly.
I rememberseeingthe final dressrehearsalof a play in
which a loverwaswalking out on his mistress.During the
courseof theaction,shehad to polishhisshoesasoneway
of preventinghis leavingher. The acresswas wearinga
pearl-graydress,andtheshoepolishwasblack.Assheknelt
on thefloor,a shoein onehand,theclothwith polishin the
other,thecanof blackpolishon thefloor in front of her,she
was crying and pleadingwith him to staywith her.Soon
shehadglobsof polishon her face,hands,andall overher
graycostume.It wasquiterealisticexceptfor onething.At
the end of the scene,the curtain was loweredfor only a
secondand roseagainfor the next scenewhich took place
a few dayslater.Her costumeand facewerestill covered
with black. In following performances,the insideof the
shoepolish can was paintedblack,without real polish in
it, and theactresshad found thecor.rectbehaviorof work-
ing with it, thecloth and theshoe,so that not only shebut
the audiencebelievedshewas actuallyusingrealpolish.
In The FarewellSultperby Arthur Schnitzler,I oncehad
to eat an enormousfive-coursegourmet meal on stage
I t z

26. I T 5
hurt yourselfto seewhat you do about it. You undoubt-
edly rememberwhat it was like when you burned or cut
yourself,or otherwisedid damageto yourselfor were hurt
by someoneelse.
But wherever an object is not physically dangerous,in
the sensediscussedabove, start experimenting-let's say,
with polishingyour nails (realnail polish on stagecould
createa major hazard if it spilled or got on your hands).
First,reallypolishyour nails,and thentakean emptybot-
tle with its little brush and seeif you can reconstruct the
behavior of carefully and evenly smoothing the polish on
your nails until you find suchbeliefthat, by reflex,you will
blow on your nails to make surethey are dry, and you will
handlethe next object delicatelyfor fear of marring the
polish.
For your exercise,find at leastthree tangible objectsto
endow with physical properties which would otherwise
control you. You may also endow them psychologically,
but the emphasisshould rest on the physical.Avoid pan-
tomiming the actions. By that I mean, if you take a stif{
drink, don't usean emptyglassand thenworry abouthow
far to tip it, or what actual swallowing is like. Fill the glass
with water and endow the water with whateverproperties
you needthroughsensememoryand muscularadjustment.
A studentoccasionallyasksif all threeendowedobjects
should belong together. Obviouslg they must belong to
your completeand logical set of circumstances.If, for
instance,your objectiveis to try to preparea splendidmeal
for your lover,and you havea bad cold at the time, endless
ideasfor objectsto endow will immediately occur to you,
connectedwith the food you are preparing, what you wilL
cook it on and what implements you will need for it, as
well as all the objectsyou may needto control your cold,
from vaporizersto nosedropsto medicinesandchestrubs.
Justtry to givethe objectsvariationso that all threedon't
E N D O W M E N T
I 1 4 T H E O B J E C T F ' X E R C I S E S
eiehttimesa week.If all the food had beenreallyasspect-
i';-i,'i*."fa have beenunableto eat it in the time spanof
;;:;;. itf", I would have gainedten pounds a week-and
r.'"i"Uiu becomesick-ceriainly on matineedays' Vhat
wassubstitutedfor thefoodlookedlikemuchmorethanrt
*u., *u, neither rich, fattening nor too 6lling' Endowing
the food with sweetness,stickiness,quantity' runnlng
iui-c* ;; butter created a relish for eating, slurping and
;;i;;: u.td b.o,rght me a round of applauseas I piled
i;;;-;f,; final deJsert of whipped-cream torte (reallv
moundsof yogurt)',''M;;;
.;."".s call for sewing and threading needles'
By now, I look forward to seeingthem pertormedDy an
-in.*f.ri"rr."d
actor becauseI know I'm in for somecomic
r.iJi. iit" panicwhich setsin asshetakesthat small needle
^"J n". siik thread, the variations of attempts to get the
,ir.^J,h.o"gtt the tiny eye,how the thread snarlsand
knotsup. and how shefinally endsup pretendrngand Pan-
;;;;;; t;*-g becauseshe never could get it threaded
"."
o"i" o."a.tibl.. If -y ,t"tdle can't beprethreadedand
t-*iti a"
"on
stage'I witl makecertainthat the needleI
,rr. t
",
,t. fatte.t iye in show business;if the threadis-to
["-nt. t;ff<''I will usesturdy corton that -won't
snarl' If ir
-,rrt ,""-'difficult to thread, I will make it so through
.'"a.-rn.",,
"td
still be able to control the exact second
*^i* tft. thread will readily go through the eye of the
needle.Only if it is a part of the plot rhat rhe lee.dleneuer
gets threaded' may I use the small needleand the hne
thread.
e.ry oUi..t which cannot be handled and controlled
readily for the purposeto which you want to put rt rn your
selectedactionbecomesa dangerousobiect'And thereare
the actually physicallydangerousobiects-sharp kntves'
tlt.lt,l.,'l-"t, broken boltles,liquor' etc'If it.is one of
these,I don't expect you to rehearsewith it and actually

27. 1 1 6 T H E O B J E C T E X E R C I S E S
involve tasting, or all three don't have to do with hurting
yourself,etc. When you havemasteredthe endowmentsof
the individual objects, give yourself fully to the need for
fulfilling your objectivewith faith in your circumstancesin
order to avoid simply iumping from one endowedobject to
the other while checking the accuracyof your execution.
'When
the exerciseis ready for presentation, you should
have found suchtrust in your objectsthat you hardly are
awarethat they are endowed.They should bewholly there
for you.
Any object we deal with, once it has beenmade partic-
ular, will be partially endowed.If I can endow a dull knife
with sharpness,I can also endow it further by giving it a
history which will dictateevenhow I pick it up. If the knife
was a gift from someoneI adore who knows I love to
cook-and I am aware that it came from Hammacher
Schlemmer'sand probably cost about twenty dollars-I
will handle it differently than if I physically have to deal
with the identical knife and endow it with having been
bought at Woolworth's ten years ago, which by accident
turned out to beiust right and becamemy favorite old cut-
ting knife.
A rose,which may be wax or plasticon stage,must be
not only endowedwith the texture, aroma, and thorniness
of the real rosein order for me to dealwith it with convic-
tion, but will be quite differently dealt with if it is from the
favorite plant which I myself grew, or if someoneI love
gave it to me, or if it is from someoneI detestwho pre-
sentedit to me to butter me up. Wecan and should charge
or load eachobiectthat we dealwith, not only to stimulate
our psycheand our senses,but again to learn how these
elementscondition our consequentactions so that when
we have to make selectionsfor the character'sactions in a
play, we havediscoveredall the areaswe must draw on to
makethe selections.
E N D O V M E N T t t a
Almost nothing in our character,slife rswhat it ls_bur
we must make it so!
.We
endow the given circumstances,
our own character,our relationship to others in the plaS
the place,eachobjectwe dealwith, includingthe clo-thes
we wear.All must be endowedwirh the physical,psycho-
logical or emotional propertieswhich we want i., o.d., t,,
sendus richly into actionfrom momenrro moment.
And so the exampleof turning an appleinto an onion
c.anbe a beginningof comprehendingthat by turning one
thing into another,or by supplyingmissingrealities,aclions
may_becomesharperthan usual,and that reality can be
heightenedinsteadof ordinary.It becomesa distiiledreal_
iry andthatis wharI loveaboutit.
Now, you are halfway through the exercises.If you havc
beenactuallyrehearsingand presentingthemfor criticism,
not iust reading about them, you may have discovered
theirinterestingby-products.By now,you areundoubtedly
not just rehearsingduring the hours you setasidefor the
exercises,but are "rehearsing,,off and on every day. I
can't open an oven door without noting how my head
pulls backat an anglefrom rheheat.If I'm makins a tele_
phone call, a part of me is marking the fourth wall I'm
using.Secondaryand reflexbehaviorbecomesmomentar_
ily conscious.I'm awareof what broughtme into a room
or out into the street.And the most astoundingpart <-rfit
all is that I don't feel a bit lessspontaneousubout -u
behavior. The purpose in establishinehabits of seli_
observation,in discoveringrheendlessuariarionsof behav.
ior which occur from day to day is not to reproducerhis
behaviormechanically&at. . .
1. To find what inner and outer objectsI get involved
with under the givencircumstances,and whv I deal
with them.

30. THE PLAY AND THE ROLE
P R A C T I C A L P R O B I , E M S zo1
Once I actually succeededin doing this for a Broadway
opening by telling myself that the entire event was ridicu-
lous and didn't matter, and that everyonein the audience
was a dope. I might as well have stayedhome' and I got
deservedlybad reviews. Personally,my nerves' iust as in
the old adage,have increasedwith experience-or age-
and I have come to acceptthem the way an older athlete
might. At best, I hope they will heighten my energy and
makeme more alert.They should zot make for fear.Above
all, I try to control them by focusing on my main obiects
and intentions, using my techniqueto keep me in the uni-
verseof the play.
An acrobat will not only get nervous but fall from the
tightrope if he looks down, tries to show off, or questions
his senseof balanceinstead of trusting his technique and
concentratingfully on his task, An actor'snervescan simi-
larly put him out of commission if he shows off or if his
acting scoreis general,has beenthrown together quickly
or his preparation is shoddy.
When you are beginningto learn a correct technique,as
your goals get higher and you becomemore aware of the
areasin which you might fail, you also may be, temporar-
ily, more nervousthan when you proceededwith the faith
of an unknowing beginner.Just remember that the better
your technique becomes,the more you should be able to
concentrate, to eliminate distractions and shed the con-
cernsof your private life in order to involve yourself in the
life of your character.Don't replacethe joy of playing (or
making love) with the nerveswhich result from a personal
ambition for success.
"How Do I GetaJob?"
"Do the rounds" of agents,producers,directors for off-off,
off, and on Broadway, {or regional theaters, for summer
stock, for dinner theaters.Do the rounds over and over
again until the solesof your shoesare worn thin. In order
to do them and to face everyone, develop a thick skin.
(Keepyour rhin skin and your sensitivitiesfo. the work on
the character.)Be as.preparedin your craft as is humanly
possrble.Keep pracricingforever.Be preparedwirh audi_
tion material.Have thirty thingsreadyto be presentedar
tne drop ot a hat. Have materialreadyfor any audition,
wherher it befor a soapopera at a televisionofn." o, io,
"classicin New York or the provinces.Have monologues
ready,and prepare sceneswith obtiging parrners*ho"."n
assistyou-when you need them. (It wili probably be to
their benefitto help you, if you have
".r".rg'"d
fo. ,fr.
""ai_tion.)I haveseenactorslosework againandagainbecause
after readingsomerhingfor a direcior,produJ.. o,
"n"",.upon beingasked,"What elsecan yo, sho* ."1:i,i.
answerwas, "Nothing. "
Auditions
How you land an audition in order to get a iob must be
separatedfrom how you work on a part. When you apply
for an interview, a job, an audition L g"t the j.b;;.r';;.
in.point of fact sellingyourself in much the sa.rre*ay th"t
a Fuller Brush man sellshis merchandise,How yo,:'-"n_
ageit is your individual problem. If you are ,.rr.ibl., uou
can learn to protect yourself from any .1...rr, yor, -igh,
meetup with in the theater,exceptcriminality, and for tfrat
you should go.to the police. Or ro Actors Eiuity Associa_
tron, your trade union, which is there to proieci you. The
pro.ducer,the agent, the director for whom you'-;rr;;;
aldition hasthe samepower as the housewife*no .iei,
stamrhe door in the faceof the brushsalesman,or w"h<r
might let you inside to show your wares.
Auditions can rangefrom an open call where the actors

31. T H E P L A Y A N D T H E R O L E zo5
which people enjoy looking at. He doesn,task that it be
considereda finished oil painting. Very often, long before
the stock seasonhasbegun,and you havesignedyour con-
tract, you may already know which plays and parts are to
beyours. Here is where I havefound actorsto beunbeliev-
ably lazy, really missing their chance, when they don,t
immediatelyserabouttheir homework
In stock, your speedand flexibility will be marvelouslv
tested.Also,the experienceof performingfor an audience
cannot be replacedby refusingjobs for fear of getting bad
habits. rl0hateverdamage you do to your instrument bv
having to produce quick resulrscan be correcredaftei-
wafo.
"ShouldI StickIt Out in theTheater?"
If you haveto ask this question-don't!
are lined up acrossthe stagelike cattle and are elimi-
nated-without a reading-because they are too tall or
short, fat or thin, fair or dark, or lately, becausethey are
thewrong astrologicalsign,to a situationin which you are
given time to study the script, work on the scene,and have
an opportunity to presentyourselfat your best.There is
alsomy favoritekind of audition,in which you may pres-
ent materialof your own choosingwhich you have pre-
paredin advance.
Vhat you shoulddo at a reading,evena cold reading
for which you have beengiven little or no time to prepare,
is to go out on a limb: giveyourselfan objectiveand then
head for it with improvised actions which are as real as
possible.Try for a full performancewith your improvised
actions.Endow tuhoeuermight read with you into the liv-
ing substancewhich could serveyou. Your craft will serve
you, if you havea craft.Evena mediocredirectorwill hold
you becauseof your reality, not on your interpretation. A
director wants what any primitive audiencewants-to
believethat you are, to believethat you are really saying
what you read from the script.
Remember:Whoevermay employyou is totally disin-
terestedin your credos,so don't burdenthemwith that.
"Do YouThink I HaveTalent?"
To quote Max Reinhardt: "Never mind your talent! Do
you havetenacity?"Or, to quotemy mother: "Talent is a
gift which many peoplehave.What you make of it deter-
mineswhetheror not you will be an artist!"
"How Can I Work Conecflv in SummerStock?"
With only a week'srehearsalyou have to setyourself dif-
ferent goals. A painter can make a very fine quick sketch
"I/hat aboutthePacing?The Rhyrhm?
TheTempo?"
These questions fall into the same category as ,.louder,
faster, funnier!" or the "mood.', They all soell doom i[
you, the actor,concernyourself with them. Tiey are noq
always have been, and always will be the results of the
actions,how you headfor your objectivesunder the cor-
rectly defined circumstances.The responsibilitv for these
resultsis in the handsof thedirector.
"Do YouThink I WasOveracting?"
There is no suchthing asover or under.There is only act-
ing. No momentis roo big or too smallif it hasvalidiryfor
the moment in rhe play.Overacting,asit is usuallythought
of, meansthat the actor is playing to the gallery irrste"Jof
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32. T H E P L A Y A N D T H E R O L E
with the other characterson stage.Or that he is hanging
onto his own sensationsor wallowing in falseemotion
Underactingis primarily an emptyimitation of nature,the
actorplayingin the "manner" of naturalness,unrelatedto
the roots of the givenreality,
"How Do I Stay Fresh in a Long Run?"
I think I am one of the few actors in the world who loues
long runs. The challengeto make a characterlive anew,as
if for the first time, asif neverbefore,night after night after
night, is,to me, almost more exciting than the ideaof play-
ing in repertory.SeveraltimesI havebeenlucky enoughto
run aslong astwo yearsin a goodpart in a goodplay,and
eachtime I havefound somethingbrand new internallyat
the closing performance which I deeply regretted being
unable to put to use the next night. I have found that
somethinggetsstaleor driesup only whenl becomeaware
of outer effectsor ol uatching my actionsrather than stay-
ing involved and truly executing them. The two-year run
can help you to deepen,and to be the character for those
few hours everynight. It hasalso fascinatedme how work
which I had done,perhapsa month beforeI beganofficial
rehearsals,seemedto emergefrom my subconsciousmaybe
a year later to add a new or different dimension to my
character.SometimesI'velongedto play at leastsix months
in front of an audiencebeforeanv critic would come to
seeme.
"How Do I Work with a Replacement
in the Cast ?"
If, a{tera play hasbeenrunning,an actor leavesthe com-
pany and is replacedby a new actor,I find it aschallenging
to work with the new actor asI do rur-mingfor a long time
P R A C T I C A L P R O B L E M S
with the sameactor.t havealso beena replacementon a
number of occasionsand often sufferedfrom the treatment
of boredactorswho didn't want to changeor adjusttheir
performancesto mine, or to changetheir daily routines to
cometo "new" rehearsals.As a result,I havelivedup to a
vow neverto put anotheractor into this spot, and have
worked asdiligentlywith a new replacemeniasthoughthe
playwerebrandnewto me.
It shouldbe exhilarating,not tedious,to go alongwith
the ideasof a new partner, unlessyou treat the theater as
iust a placeto check in and out of, It,s a sure proof of
working inaccuratelyif your performancedoesfiichange
with a different actor. Your opinion aboatliking the new
actormore or lessthan thefirst actor is irrelevant!
An extraordinary experienceoccurredwhile I was play-
ing Blanche.While the four principalsof the New yoik
companytook a summervacation,they werereplacedby
the four of us who were to go on tour as the National
company. JessicaTandy took off six deservedweeks of
rest, and the other three took only two weeks.This meant
that I would work first with the National comDanv-
Anthony Quinn, Mary Velch, and RussellHardie-and
then-two weeks later-with Marlon Brando, Karl
Malden, and Kim Hunter. I got in a few rehearsalswith the
New York company before playing with them, except for
Marlon! For a numberof reasons,he didn'tappeartack-
stageuntil thirty minutesbeforewe were to go on stagefor
an SRO performance.Ve had neuerseeneachother,soer-
formance.MissTandy'sand my interpretationof Blanche
were asdifferent asMr. Quinn's and Mr. Brando'sStanley.
There was a hasty conferencebackstage:Shouldwe risk
playing together without a single rehearsaland without
any knowledge of each other's interpretation? Tony, who
was standingby in full makeup, said he hoped Marlon
would play becausehe didn't want to hear the groansof

33. T H E P L A Y A N D T H E R O L E
disappointment from the audienceif they were told Mar-
lon wasn'tplaying.Finally,I said,"Let'stry to rehearsethe
firstfiveminutesofthe play andseewhat happens."It was
such an adventurethat we were both game,and on we
went. Nothing went wrong, and a lot went right. What
madeit work? Both of us weretotally familiar with place,
objects,and circumstances.Neither of us was willful or
selfish.Neitherof us violatedthe intentionsof our charac-
ters.The rest of the four weekscontinued to be adventur-
ous.And sowas returningto Anthony Quinn.
"How Do I Talk to the Audience?"
(hether I am talking to the audiencein a Shakespearean
play,a Molidre,inThe Matcbmaker,TheGlassMenagerie,
Joe Egg, or The Bald Soprano, specificptinciples always
apply. I am not talking to myself; the audienceis my part-
ner! This partner,the audience,must bemadeasparticular
asany othercharacterwith whom I havea dialoguein the
play. Who are they? What's my relationship to them?
Xlherearethey-in time as well as place? Why are they
there,what is the obstacle,andtuhat do I want from them?
Answeringthesequestions,I standa good chanceof find-
ing my actionswith them.
Vhether I'm talking to one personor to many' I specify
my relationship to them-are they with me or againstme,
do we have a past together,or are we new to each other,
etc.?I alwaysput my audienceinto the time and placein
which the play unfolds. I might usecourtiers sitting in the
king's loge,contemporariesof Moliire, if I'm working on a
play of his and askedto addressthe audience.Or I might
take somefriends from Yonkersat the turn of century who
are listening to me and watching me from another sitting
room or from the street,if I'm talking to the audienceas
Mrs. Levi in The Matcbmaker.Or I mieht addressthe
P R A C T I C A L P R O B L E M S
audienceas if they were specificpeoplecoming out of the
pub into the streetif I, as Launce, in The Tuto Gentlemen
of Verona,am lamenting to them about my poor dog, erc.
I don't want to haye to hurdle the realitiesI've createdirr
the play for time and placeby having to usethe audiencein
the theater on 45th Streetin 1973 as is. The faith in my
very senseof being the characterwould be shaken.
Now comesthe hardestpart! You want your audience
to beenfolded-as if you were talking to eachoneof rhem.
Laughtoncoulddo it. SinatraandJudyGarlandhavedone
it. I try to do it by placing my imaginary audience or,
the fourth wall asprimary objects,or in conjunctionwith
the dim shapesof peoplein any areaof the auditorium
where I cannot make direct eye contact with an actual
memberof the audience.(I(hen you werein the audience,
have you ever been visually contactedby a performer?
Didn't you feel self-conscious,uncomfortable,abused?If
you were sweet,you tried to guesswhat was expectedof
you, and perhapsplayedbackwith facialreactions.If you
were annoyed,you probably madea stonyface,or yawned
into the actor's face, or simply adiusted your clothing in
misery-feeling you were beingused.)In a night club or in
vaudeville,performersoften make directuseof a member
of the audience(at his expense),but if he talks back, the
performer can improvise on it, or out of it, or take it fur-
ther, In plays, too, as in everything, there are exceptions
when the play demandsthat you cope with shifting reali-
tiesor the director makesthe charactert task a direct con-
frontation with the given audience or a member of it.
Occasionally,your charactermight have to ask for a spe-
cific responsefrom the living audience;or the characier
may beaskedto stepout of the play and out of the charac-
ter for an interlude with the existing audience.But these
are the rare exceptions.
To return to the rule: remember that your character's

34. 2 l o T H E P L A Y A N D T H E R O L E
dialoguewith the audienceis written down, that it must
stay in the time and place of the character,and must be
alive as it is sent to your imaginedaudiencewhom you
have put around, in back of, and betweenyourself and
the actual audienceso that they will feel included, and
enchanted,but not put upon!
Accents and Dialects
If I have to play a character with a foreign accent or a
regionaldialect,I consulta specialist,andwith thehelpI'm
givenby my good ear (thank God) and my knowledgeof
the phonetic alphabet,I work around the clock on the
soundsand rhythm of my new speechpattern. I getrecords
of it so I can listenall day.I go to films wherepeopletalk
the way I am supposedto. I make my friendsand family
the victims of my continuouspracticing. I try to speakwith
my new speechpattern until it becomessecondnature,
until I stophearingmyselfor checkingmyself.I try to do it
long beforcI getto the words of the play, becauseif I prac-
tice it immediately or exclusivelyon the linesof my part, I
will set line readingsthat can't be undone; I will test my
words for soundratherthan meaning,and do my charac-
ter irrevocabledamage.
Evenmy husbandwasa little shockedwhenI went, asa
replacement,into Tbe Deep BIue Sea and was introduced
to an almost completely British cast and immediately
spoketo them with a British accent(" What a nerve!").
They may evenhavelaughedat me, and I wouldn't have
blamed them, but the point was that they didn't largh
whenI cameto rehearsingandplayingmy part with them.
The transition into Hester'slanguagewas all prepared for.
I recommendthis practicewhetherit beRussian,Chinese,
Scotch or New England-whatever the accent or dialect
may be.
2 I I
There is an interestingpsychologicalrlillct, n., lor the
characterif he is speakingin another lrtrtgrr.rli,rlr:rnhis
own with an accent,or if hehasthelocaltli,tlc.t ,'l lrrsori-
gin-his childhood.Rememberthat if you lt,rrr'.r l,'reign
accent,you are trying not to have it. Y()rt.trc trrnll to
overcomeit andto speakthenew languagebc.ttrtrlrrllv.(A
Rumanian friend of mine, on hearing herscllon ,r l.rpc
recorder,asked,"Who eezdat wooman?"and I lt.r,lt,' r,ry,
"That's you." She said, "Dunt bee seelly,drrr ' or])rul
hasan ahksent!")If on theother hand,your chitr.r,.t, r lr.rt
a regionaldialect,"you" arespeakingin and dcalrrrlirritlr
the depths of "your" origins. Becomefamilirrr rlrtlr
anotherchildhoodwith new soundsand melodies.
I alsoclaimthat if you don't havea perfectear,ollc('v()ll
havestudiedthe speechpatterndiligently,the resultrtcc.l
n't be absolutelyauthenticas long as you havefaith irr ir
andbelieuethat it springsfrom you in your role.(Laurcttc
Taylor, in The GlassMenagerie,did not havean authentic
southernspeech,but shethoughtshedid, sowe believedit
too!)
Dressing the Part-the Costume and Makeup
An eyelash,a mustache,a wig, the shoes,evenpaddingput
on for a role must becomean integralpart of you. They
ought to free the new "you" wholly. Everything must be
developed for its sensory effect on you, the character.I
think an anecdoteabout Alfred Lunt tellsthestory.He was
working on Tlte Guardsman by }i4olnar,In the course of
the comedy,the character he was going to play wants to
test his wife's fidelity by pretending to be a Russianofficer
and attempting, in this guise,to seduceher.(Mr. Lunt hac
to find the truth of his character'sdressand makeup p/zs
the realiryof his disguisewhich had to convinceeveryone
that he was that Russianof6cer.)He didn't seehow it was
P R A C T I C A L P R O B L E M S