Sunday 28 June 2009

Dealing with Inner Dæmons (Part I)


The main body of this posting consists of a long list I have been thinking about over the past few days and then compiled during my long walk home from this morning’s Quaker meeting. It’s actually a list of twisted taunts my horrible Inner Critic goads me with. As you will probably start to understand it’s no wonder I mess up so often! My work may have benefited from this 'inner nag' early on in my acting career perhaps (although this is at the very least arguable. After all, does artistic talent really have to have a shadow side??), but it has had to get more harsh and more vicious with me for it to retain power and control over me, and at what a devastating cost to so many of my friendships and working relationships, my career, not to mention my own mental and emotional health! It strangles and chokes my talent.



It was in fact Michael Jackson’s sudden death 3 days ago which caused me to reflect even more deeply on the shadow side of artistic talent, the perfectionist tendencies and drives of the performer. His life stands as parable of self-destruction and genius as poisoned chalice. Like everyone else I have a shadow side to my nature as the list of inner rules below reveals so painfully; and, although I’m not arrogant enough to believe I have a fraction of the talent Jacko had, I am obliged to own up to having to deal with my own vicious inner dæmons when it comes to my own art. I am at least relieved I didn’t end up a serial child abuser, addicted to plastic surgery and Vicadin and Demerol! With me it's only the fags, although it occurs to me that that particulr addiction is a symptom of a deeper cause perhaps intimately related to my Inner Critic. More of which in a future post...

The ‘rules’ included in this list had their parthenogenesis during my adolescence They goaded me to aspire to genius, whilst constantly reminding me how far short I would fall of ever achieving it! It is this Inner Critic archetype who muscles in on my acting every time I enter the doors of a rehearsal room. So often it is drones on like a white noise in my head (like those things they blow during football matches in South Africa that sound like angry bees) and goes unchallenged, unacknowledged, even flatly denied by me if I am actually confronted by anyone else about my behaviour. Having meditated on this I’ve listed some of the many variations on these dæmon taunts. They are not exaggerated, I promise you, which is actually what makes seeing them down here in black and white even more alarming. I know that the next stage of this inner work will be to replace these taunts and re-programme myself to have a healthier, more positive attitude to the work before I go to drama school. That will come in part II of this blog in a fortnight or so hopefully.

The following taunts have always been used by me as a top-secret ‘extreme rocket fuel’ to try and get the best from myself, but actually they have for a very long time become less helpful and more and more self-sabotaging, until I have come to feel more or less totally blocked and creatively paralysed. Certainly my capacity for taking any real joy from my work has all but disappeared in recent years. This originally potent fuel has a side effect of creating dangerously toxic emissions that will only fuck me up more and more unless they are brought into full light of day and revealed as the preposterous and patently ridiculous rules that they really are. This ‘fuel’ can and frequently does poison the atmosphere in the rehearsal room quicker than anything. In this post I will just list some of the things this dæmon inner critic of mine says to me: in Part II I will draft some affirmations to counter its noxious effects on me and my work.

Before I do that, here is a wee snapshot of what his dæmon looks like. He/she is a cross between a thin, stern ballet mistress and a barking sergeant major sketched by Gerald Scarfe. This dæmon appears in my mind’s eye as a frightfully pale, carping, bullying, perfectionist fire-breathing dictator in a dusty costume armed with rules that don’t make rational sense, and are frequently contradictory. He/she has a bamboo cane in one hand which is swished through the air and is used to whack me across my back when I am lazy, self-satisfied or low. In the other hand he/she clutches in his long bony fingers a small red, leather-bound notebook with a tattered string and small pencil attached in which he scribbles his ‘Rules’. He/she is surrounded by a cloudy red mist that gives off sparks.

This is maybe something I really should just keep for my private journal, but these issues are so bound up with my work as an actor and director, and it will do me good to have this mad stuff out in the public domain because I can’t then shirk, suppress or avoid doing the important inner work of owning and correcting all this ingrained, habitual dysfunctional thinking that has dogged me for so long. I’ve been silent and privately ashamed of this hidden side of me for far too long, and I know I need to get this sorted before I go to the Academy or I am going to let it to sabotage my growth as an artist and my relationships there too. So here it is.

This self-blame is like an addiction to a powerful narcotic that made me feel so strong when I started ‘using’, and then slowly and surely it whittled away my willpower, my health, my capacity to think straight and see things clearly until I ended up believing I’m incapable of doing anything without it. This is not an exercise in self-pity, actually very far from it. This is about owning up to some difficult truths about what a pain I am capable of causing myself and others. For the first time in a long time I feel I am actually getting somewhere.


Here’s that list.



THE DAEMON's RULEBOOK
(or The Inner Critic's Catechism)

Break any of these rules and you will pay for it.”

“Be consistent, or you’ll look foolish.”

“(
raps) Success is your only mother-fucking option. Failure’s not.”

“If you’re planning to fail, forgive yourself.”

“Isolate yourself to avoid the possibility of infection by the culture of failure and malfunction that spoils all life.”

“Resist being tarred with the same brush as anyone else. Free yourself of all other attachments except your attachment to me, your only true friend.”

“Go silent and remote if you want to become better than all your ‘competitors’ and avoid being dragged down to ‘their’ level.”

“Love blinds you.”

“Love wounds.”

“Love hurts.”

“…Avoid it.”

“You have a right to be moody”

“You are obliged to be moody.”

“You moody, difficult fucker!”


"Impatience is a virtue. It gets things done."


“What do you mean? OF COURSE you can’t be loved! Anyone who says you can is either a fucking liar or a fool. Get used to being alone and misunderstood.”

“Love crucifies.”

“Love is best reserved for the desperate and the lost.”

“If you didn’t have me you would have to give up.”

“It’ll never be perfect. Chain yourself up in your gloomy cave and try, try and try again.”

“Cruelty and suffering are such a wonderful teachers. I am cruel because I care.”

“God punishes you when He wants you to grow. I am his servant”

“Accelerate your learning- help me, your teacher, by hurting yourself, and then suffer in silence and isolation and feel yourself soar higher.”

“Anger is good for your creativity and motivation. Squashed rage is even better.”

“You do not have time to mess around. Get a move on, you retard.”

“You must always stay hungry. Deny your self the sustenance of reward.”

“All the best artists are messed up.”

“It is your job to shoulder all the blame for every mistake. You allowed them to happen.”

“Say nothing. Don’t complain. Be a man.”

“Always obey the director, like a professional.”

“You said nothing. Why not? You’re to blame; you were the one who saw it all going to hell in a handcart in slow motion and still you ignored your inner voice. It’s all your fault.”

“The audience don’t give a damn about your suffering. It goes with the territory. Do your job and shut the fuck up, you child.”

“Keep the personal out of it.”

“Avoid giving yourself the credit. Your successes are down to me. You couldn’t survive without me”

“Other people have their own problems. They aren’t interested in knowing about yours. Don’t waste time and involve anyone else. Solve your own problems and allow them to get on with much more important things- their own.”

“Demand to know from anyone who dares admire you what you did wrong.”

“Never listen to what you did right- you’ll never learn from that.”

“Give it all away… Especially your happiness.”

“You have no right to be fulfilled. That is not why you should be doing it.”

“All or nothing. There be no road between.”

“Don’t let anything get in the way of you being excellent.”

"Don't be offensive. Be passive-aggressive."

“You always fail… That is because you're shit.”

“Humourlessness is proof of your integrity and commitment.”

“Laughter is forbidden. You are not a child; stop behaving like one.”

“Like or (God forbid) love your own self at your own peril.”


"Tolerate incompetence in others until your ears bleed or explode."

“You are entitled to no reward, no matter how hard you work. Except a fag or five in the breaks.”

“Nothing and nobody should matter more than acting.”

“Fuck your own acting! Nothing matters more than the show, you self-involved bastard.”

“If you are not prepared to give up everything then you are an amateur of the worst kind, a fucking fraud.”

“Others are human: their errors are forgivable. But I told you you were failing; you have no excuse.”

“Amateur equals shit.”

“Your inevitable failure is unpardonable.”

“Working till you collapse builds your stamina.”

“Pain and suffering is character building.”

“Refuse to be obsessed and you’re bound to fall flat on your arse.”

“’Concentrate’ means blot everything else out.”

“Flexibility is your fatal flaw.”

“Rest is for wimps.”

“Always hate the results and you’ll keep on growing.”

“Clamp the emotional shutters down or the lesser artists will sabotage and distract you out of jealousy.”

“Never reveal your sickness or weaknesses. They will want to steal it for themselves if they knew its rewards.”

“Blame yourself for everything that fails. Allow yourself no credit for the successes.”

“Never admit weakness.”

“Stockpile and hide all your love away. Don’t waste it.”

“You’ll always need to prove yourself or others will overtake you.”

“Always believe it when you think you might be shit. I, your inner critic, is never ever wrong. Trust me.”

“You are an untrained actor: you are therefore a shit amateur.”

“You NEED me.”

“Helping a fellow other actor is like giving him direction. It is not your job. Everyone will hate you for it eventually.”

“(sings) You’re no good, you’re no good, you’re no good… Baby, you’re no good. Say it again.”

“Live in fear of humiliation and ridicule. Fear it worse than death.”

“All satisfaction breeds laziness, smugness and deadening de-motivation.”

“The audience despise you for failing them.”

“Friends are misguided. Make no friends and you won’t be lied to.”

“You are shit because you can’t repeat your successes.”

“It was good? You got lucky.”

“It was bad? No wonder. You didn’t kill yourself trying.”

“Exaggerate your pain if you want a purchase on transformation.”

“Praise is rarely valid, and never ever useful.”

“Genius is a curse.”

“Your experience counts for nothing. After 30 odd years you are still none the wiser than the first timer.”

“Feeling disconnected, then pull yourself apart and find out why. Quick!”

“Smash the first signs of self-satisfaction into a pulp. It is the enemy of the true artist.”

“And who the fuck are you? What do you know?”

“You are deluding yourself.”

“You will never know enough, that is why I have the right to call you stupid.”

“I would be failing in my obligations if I didn’t keep bullying you.”

“You are thick, slow, clumsy, inept, and wrong most of the time. A self-pitying, nasty, fat, ugly, disgusting, sick, whining, smelly, scruffy, selfish, self-obsessed, shitty little HUMAN.”

“You can’t stop until you are perfect. Which is never.”

“Since pride in who you are and what you achieve and self-love are not valid options without the attendant shame and the inevitable self-delusion, hate yourself with a passion instead.”

“If you cannot be loved by others then intimidate them. Make them scared of you.”

“Make them jealous, secretly resentful of and alarmed by your talent. Make them hate themselves for admiring your work so much even though you are such a shit to work with.”

“In the end it doesn’t matter if you’re a shitty person. It’s utterly justified in the long run if you are creating great art as 'a shitty person'.”

“Hurt yourself. Hurt others if necessary. It’ll be worth it.”

“You are fucking stupid and untalented… But you must do your utmost to hide that from people or you will look weaker.”

“You are an amateur and you will always be an amateur if you look like you are having any fun.”

“You are not allowed to congratulate yourself. Only big-headed, deluded arseholes do that.”

“You are not loveable. You are not even likeable. To think you could be liked is a sign either you have fallen for lies or they have. Deflect and dismiss it if you value your integrity at all.”



“But if you cannot ever allow yourself to be liked or loved you can at least be respected. And if not respected then feared. And if not feared then utterly despised. Anything but fall for empty theatrical blandishments.”

“If you give up these rules then you will kill your will and your right to work at the highest level. And you will disappear. Folk will not remember you and will never want to work with you again.”

“Be remembered, even if it is for being a difficult bastard.”


"You always have to be the most grown up.”


"Martyr yourself."


"Be Mr Spock when you drop your character."



“The work is punishing. Get used to it. If you can’t take it then kill yourself because you’ll never be good at anything else.”


Scary, huh? But I feel much lighter and freer for having done this though!

A few days ago I asked 3 or 4 close and trusted confidants (I do still have a small loving and hyper-tolerant band of close friends left, thank God!!) who have agreed to help me complete a CBT (Cognitive behaviour Therapy) exercise that asks the following questions:

What do I do well in the rehearsal room?


and


What do I not do so well in the rehearsal room?

My thanks to those kind souls (You know who you are!) who are helping me with this. You are truly precious friends. When the feedback comes I will compile and compare the results and draft some conclusions and, yes, change!!!!

Hopefully I’ll be able to include them in a Part III. This is to be my homework during the summer hols.

Phew.

:-)

Sunday 7 June 2009

Titus


As a production Titus Andronicus, which finished its 8-night run at the Ramshorn Theatre last night, was a massive hit with audiences. I regret to say it was a far from easy experience for me personally as an actor. I couldn't help but feel disappointed in the lack of detail and nuancing in my own performance. Having a very heavy cold certainly didn’t help matters either, but it really compromised my energy levels and my vocal delivery. I longed to inject more subtlety and colour into the verse, but being below par health-wise I felt constrained by my limited pitching, and the ‘rasping’ timbre and course texture of my voice which made me sound far more forced and aggressive than I wanted. A bit like trying to play Mozart on an out-of-tune, broken fiddle.


At the start of rehearsals I had high hopes of giving an interpretation that vindicated my character far more, but ultimately I fear Titus came across as a bit intransigent, cold and rigid. He seemed outside of all the groups and factions in the play- separate from the Goths, the tribunes, the Romans, even his own family. I can’t quite put my finger on it but I felt vaguely estranged and at odds with everyone else in the cast and crew, outside of the production even. (It may just have been an oversight on someone's part but why wasn't I even asked to contribute money to the purchase thank you gifts for the director, stage management, Frankie etc! Who can tell me who should I give my money to?!)

The actors playing Tamora, Marcus, Lucius, Aaron, Chiron, Demetrius and Saturninus were encouraged by our director to be much more integrated, strong and likeable, and so were able to stake their claim on the heart of the story. From my own perspective- (Forgive me, while put my ‘director’s hat’ on!-) this unbalanced the key relationships which underpin Shakespeare’s moral schemata. It seemed to be Peter’s vision to fully humanise the baddies, and by the same token de-humanise Titus by undermining his centrality in the story. Audiences always love baddies more, but Titus was left floundering, looking too morally ambiguous for an audience to form an opinion about one way or the other. I felt invisible. Peter never really admitted as much but I feel sure that was why he had me dressed in a Nazi Schütze's uniform (not a high status General’s uniform), and he also completely cut the only scene where we see a fully empathetic Titus, as he eats dinner with in the family home (3:2). In these and in countless other little ways it slowly became clearer to me that Peter’s approach to the text was designed to encourage the audience to sympathise more with the drama's antagonists. He seemed to spend a far more time directing the actors playing those characters than he did me as the titular hero. I was mostly left to my own devices while he urged them to play the passions and the motives behind their vengeful actions with much more intensity and conviction, and play their scenes with grace and beauty of movement. He clearly sided more with the violent ‘baddies’ than my victimised protagonist. The notable exception to this was Lavinia, played by the excellent Natalie Clark, but even this really didn’t help my own character to be seen in a positive light, especially when Titus just kept weeping and bemoaning how hard done by and wronged he was after she is raped and mutilated! As a result Titus came across as weepy, carping and far, far too self-pitying- surely the ugliest and most alienating of all emotions in the theatre!

So my Titus was never properly sympathetic and I failed to discover a way of making him sound anything more than a bellicose, over-the-hill, politically naïf, an emotionally self-indulgent, egotistical and intransigent victim! It continually felt like I was having to fight extra hard to coax any sympathy at all from the audience for the man’s suffering. Other characters got emotive music played under their big moments. I was left to fend for myself- at least that’s how it felt!

Whilst not a complete failure, my acting in this didn’t come up to the standards I usually set for myself, and unfortunately it winded up being a rather frustrating experience creatively.

But as a whole the production seemed to go down extremely well with the audiences. They heaped praise on the other actors and Peter’s sound and lighting effects. I couldn’t help but feel jealous of all the attention they were getting- not that it really should be about that of course, but it was a bit uncomfortable being more or less completely ignored! My friend Max- a man in his 60s- found the intemperate nature of the stage violence so distressing he had to leave at the first interval. Another, a very seasoned theatregoer, was still traumatised to tears by the rape scene, even when I spoke to her about it many hours later. She was another who had to leave the auditorium. Several others thought the graphic nature of the ultraviolence was a bit like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut, and suggested it might have been portrayed more successfully depicted by leaving much more to the imagination.


The plastic, bewigged, decapitated, goggle-eyed heads of my two ‘sons’- christened “Francie and Josie” by one backstage wit) - got laughs when they were brought on by the Messenger in Act 3 Scene 1. Every night this threatened to completely undermine everything I had been trying to create in the scene up to this moment. This could have been an infinitely more heartbreaking and poignant moment if only they had been placed in bloodied muslin bags; but for reasons Peter never revealed he was adamant that these heads remained fully visible.

The show had a very long running time and there were some evenings when performances lasted three and a ½ hrs, and what with temperatures in the 80s it became an endurance test for everyone concerned. But for those who stayed to watch it all they seemed to have been greatly entertained by the production. So what do I know? The punters are always right!

In the final analysis it was Tamora her two sons, Lavinia and Saturninus who stole the show; and Ithe rest of us were their supporting players. At least that’s how it felt.

Now this is the very last show I am likely to act in before I start at the RSAMD in September, and I wish I could have left on more of a high after my 15 years association with the Ramshorn, but looked at as whole, all I have done there- both as an actor and a director- adds up to a body of work I can afford to take some pride in. I have learned a great deal in my time there, and they've allowed me to work on such an interesting and varied diet of plays. The kind of rep training that simply doesn't exist any more. Looking back now, my high points as a director were The Crucible, A Hard Heart and Tally’s Blood: and as an actor, my achievements as King Lear, Spooner in No Man’s Land, George in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and the Player in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead will remain with me; but there are many others I will recall with just as much pride, affection and gratitude.


I guess this is the closing of a chapter, and that makes me just a little melancholy…

But, hey, upwards and onwards!!


For it now is done.”