Still-Wife: An Introduction

Hello…again! (I know. I know… but the joke isn’t even remotely wearing thin with all of us yet, so… for the moment it is here to stay. I’m sorry. I am. I just can't make any promises.)

at The Savoy in London (where people aren't so confused about why I'm in the show)

So who the hell am I? (…Right? I know so many people probably looked at the casting announcement for this show and went? Who?! Was Laura Benanti like, not available or something?!) So anyway: hi there. Hello. Again. My name is Alexandra Silber (though you can call me Al if you like, everyone except Marc Kudisch does, but only because he has permission and frankly wouldn't take no for an answer...) and for the last 8 years I have been based in the United Kingdom— at school in Scotland (at The Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama) then working in London’s West End. Hello Again will actually mark my New York theatre debut and it is a real honor (—or, as they would type in the Old World— hono(u)r…) So—onward!

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Often, I am asked what the creative process is like, how actors approach and develop characters, and how they manifest themselves into being. So I thought it might be interesting to chronicle that process for The Young Wife in this production, not only to illuminate things for those of you who may be interested in what happens from audition to full performance, but also to observe it and have an awareness of it in myself. (Fun? Possibly excruciating? ...fun?)

So welcome, to The Transport Group’s 2011 Revival of Hello Again, and a re-formation and discovery of The Young Wife.

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So, is there a "best" way to approach developing a character? The short answer is No. But, I will say that I personally approach character development a lot like a collage.

I have no idea of what it's going to develop into when I begin work on a character. To quote one of my greatest artistic inspirations (visual artist, author, and dear friend) Nick Bantock, “Making art is like having a relationship—you want to bring in some ideas, but if you don't allow it to develop naturally and speak to you as it develops, you end up imposing and projecting upon it.”

Indeed. I want my character to live and breathe— I want the character to be as close to a real person as is (sane and) possible. I know that sounds pedestrian, but the truth is, oftentimes there is a great deal of emphasis on a projected performance rather than on creating the impression of a living, breathing person. It is part methodical, part spontaneous and varies for every creative process.

In general I like to arm myself with this copious research and more academic material before I ever get "on my feet." Once we’re staging, the work becomes primarily instinctive but I feel free to "feel" my way because the instinctive work has been informed by the prior intellectual work. I try to never leave a corner (either technical or instinctive) unexplored.

wreck it!

One consistent certainty is that regardless of the aesthetic of the piece, the rehearsal length or the genre, I always have a book—usually a really simple, ugly book I feel happy to destroy, alter, throw about, wreck, weep on, rip up, and accidentally drop in the bathtub. I hate when a book is so hand-bound-by-ancient-Italian-artisans that you feel hesitant to even write your name in it. Creativity is about getting dirty people! And it starts with feeling comfortable enough to not merely mark, but destroy the pages if need be. So go! Go out and get to CVS and buy that 89¢ spiral-bound! Sew a page, pick up the book with your feet, play golf with it, slept with it under your pillow, cover two pages with office supplies, add that coffee ring! Add bird feathers you find in the park (safely sealed under clear packing tape-- getting dirty doesn't mean being unsanitary, sheesh)! Make that drawing using your own hair! YEAH... [*Al recovers from her own enthusiasm*] It is always fun. Nine times out of ten it's fun.

Moving on: I fill said book with both 1. very technical things (basic acting technique stuff a la Stanislavsky, Meisner, Hagen), and 2. a tremendous amount of what I call “instinctively collected” material.

Specifically:

1. Technically speaking one must collect several pieces of information from the text itself: facts, circumstances and “knowns” about the character, things the character says, and things others say about your character, etc. Comb through the script. Ask yourself 'Why that word, and not another word?' and 'What do you think happened?' Those pieces of seemingly obvious information sometimes reveal a well of literal and sub-textual (yeah, pretty certain I made that word up...) inspiration and information. It may seem trivial but it is as important as establishing that the ground you are building a skyscraper on is solid and not sand.

First, I always attempt to write out a fully fleshed-out back story. I do the same for the gaps between scenes my character appears in, filling in the unspoken or unmentioned details of what happens between the scenes the audience views. I prefer writing these in third person. Example, when I was working on Carousel in London it went a little like this: "Julie Jordan was born in a small fishing village 40 miles south of Portland, Maine. Abandoned in early childhood, she was raised in one of the numerous orphanages in the Northeast and subsequently farmed into the countless factories and industrial mills peppering the area at the boom of the American Industrial Revolution, and ostensibly raised by Cotton Mill owner and prominent town leader William Bascomb…" Boom! There you go: time, place, circumstances. We gather from that brief snippet that Julie is alone in the world, and that the mill is her only source of “home,” which increases the stakes when she gives all of it up for love in scene one. Without that degree of homework and consideration, the scenes the audience does see have less power and punch.

those glasses are fake...but don't I look chic..?

Next, it is important (to me at least!) to engage in a flood of scholarly style ‘homework’ (I’m a not-so-closeted-wannabe-academic) so one feels armed with enough information to make accurate and informed choices once you are on your feet. This is also where a dramaturge is vitally important. (the person who works on the historical and cultural research into the play and its setting, though they are trained to do much much more and often do). Cue The Transport Group's Resident Dramaturge Krista Williams, who always enters stage left with a flood of studious investigatory information! Anything you cannot find she will find make no mistake about it. She went to Yale). I don’t mean to suggest that every single moment needs to be plotted and planned beforehand, I simply suggest that if one is armed with all that historical, circumstantial, and factual information possible; that one’s instincts can then be empowered based on the truth of that particular character’s existence. It is like cooking, one has to have all the ingredients and cooking skills prepared and on hand so that one can create a dish both spontaneously and skillfully.

Finally, I collect any kind of additional inspiration that might help me access the character in another way. This means drawings, newspaper clippings, music, poems, bits of literature, photos, even scents and fabrics I feel may be relevant to the development of the person I am chiseling, revealing, building and layering. Like I said, I treat it all a bit like a collage and it begins here…

So-- to 'the book!' To the research! Time to hassle the dramaturge! To test red lipstick and work on finger curling skills! And time to learn Michael John's complex but stunningly beautiful score that one can only hope they serve well.

Farewell for now. I'm off to Google 'til I'm blind. “I’m sure we’ll be saying, Hello Again…”

...again. ...sorry.