These lessons, inspired by Michael Shurtleff, can help you and your students quickly and easily tell the story of any play you produce.
For our newsletters starting in January 2024, we crafted lessons inspired by Michael Shurtleff’s book, Audition. Shurtleff’s 12 Guideposts, detailed in the book, help actors with far more than just auditioning. They really help student actors understand how to play the story in a script and mesh well with any other approach to learning acting: Method, Spolin, Chekhov, Meisner — however you teach acting.
Our lessons below offer exercises — something Shurtleff doesn’t do — to teach his guideposts and to put them to use in productions. They are written for teachers, but can be used directly by students, too.
For our newsletters starting in January 2024, we crafted lessons inspired by Michael Shurtleff’s book, Audition. Shurtleff’s 12 Guideposts, detailed in the book, help actors with far more than just auditioning. They really help student actors understand how to play the story in a script and mesh well with any other approach to learning acting: Method, Spolin, Chekhov, Meisner — however you teach acting.
Our lessons below offer exercises — something Shurtleff doesn’t do — to teach his guideposts and to put them to use in productions. They are written for teachers, but can be used directly by students, too.
1. The importance of relationships
Digging deeper than describing the family tree
The various relationships in the overlapping stories told in Into the Woods are illustrated here in the poses assumed by Centennial High School’s actors during their performance in the 2023 Enchantment Awards. Photo by Hank Henley.
The number of words we speak in a lifetime, at an average of 20,000 words a day, is immense. Yet actors are tasked with making us believe in the fullness of their characters with just the 20,000 words a playwright gives to all characters in a script. Actors work to give the fullest life possible to characters that speak, in total, half or fewer the number of words the average American speaks in a day. That means young actors often need more clues than those the playwright writes into the script.
Let’s provide a few. These are prompted by Michael Shurtleff’s book Audition. The 12 Guideposts he offers in that book are a great connection between the work of the playwright and the work of the actor.
Relationships
What is the detailed relationship between your character and any other? Describing a relationship in its simplest form doesn’t get you much. There are a lot of different mother-daughter relationships, for example. Relationships are an exchange, a negotiation. They can be very positive exchanges, but unless your character is willing to give something in the relationship, the other character is unlikely to offer anything in return.
As your character interacts with others, how is each relationship described through the actions of your character? Is one yielding to the other? Are they each trying to prove they are right? In any scene, both the characters and the actors have to give something to the scene to help define the relationship and make the scene more dynamic.
Love
Shurtleff insists that all plays are love stories, even if the level of love is only mutual respect. In any scene, no matter what else is going on, one or both of the characters is likely asking for some measure of love from another. If the scene is not literally a love scene, how are the characters physicalizing their subtextual request for love, respect, admiration, or any other kind of love we humans show one another? You can have your actors improvise just that part of the scene to bring the love to the surface.
Let’s provide a few. These are prompted by Michael Shurtleff’s book Audition. The 12 Guideposts he offers in that book are a great connection between the work of the playwright and the work of the actor.
Relationships
What is the detailed relationship between your character and any other? Describing a relationship in its simplest form doesn’t get you much. There are a lot of different mother-daughter relationships, for example. Relationships are an exchange, a negotiation. They can be very positive exchanges, but unless your character is willing to give something in the relationship, the other character is unlikely to offer anything in return.
As your character interacts with others, how is each relationship described through the actions of your character? Is one yielding to the other? Are they each trying to prove they are right? In any scene, both the characters and the actors have to give something to the scene to help define the relationship and make the scene more dynamic.
Love
Shurtleff insists that all plays are love stories, even if the level of love is only mutual respect. In any scene, no matter what else is going on, one or both of the characters is likely asking for some measure of love from another. If the scene is not literally a love scene, how are the characters physicalizing their subtextual request for love, respect, admiration, or any other kind of love we humans show one another? You can have your actors improvise just that part of the scene to bring the love to the surface.
2. Get your actors looking for trouble
How conflict clarifies what’s at stake for a play’s character
Comedy thrives when you play up the conflicts. Image from Freepik.
Without the deadly conflict between the families in Romeo and Juliet, one of Shakespeare’s consummate tragedies would have all the drama of a Lifetime movie. Conflict drives dramatic action. Lacking it, theater would be as dull as a mashed potato sandwich.
In order for conflict to happen, characters have to compete. Young actors must learn this. In every dramatic story, there is something critical at stake for at least one of the characters, something worth fighting for. When characters fight for something, it often puts them in competition with other characters.
That doesn’t automatically make someone a villain. In West Side Story, both the Sharks and the Jets are fighting for something positive for their groups.
Actions speak louder than words
To achieve what they’re fighting for, characters surprise, berate, or tease one another. They lie to, make deals with, or serenade each other. Those are actions characters take to fight in each moment for that thing that will bring about the change they seek. The key for actors is to name the action for each specific moment (it may change in the next moment as a character changes tactics), then to play that action.
While speaking is an action, to say a character is speaking is not necessarily dramatic. In theatre, characters use words to affect change. They cajole, persuade, reveal truths, belittle, and much more. Describe strong, specific actions. As Michael Shurtleff writes in his book Audition, “Only by each actor making the strongest choice of what he is fighting for in every scene can a play come alive.”
Looking for trouble
Conflict is a notion that we in the theatre seem to struggle with.
“I am always surprised at how actors try to iron out the conflict that may lurk below the surface of a scene, flattening it instead of heightening it,” Shurtleff observed in his book. “Perhaps we are taught so thoroughly in our everyday lives to avoid trouble that actors don’t realize they must go looking for it. The more conflict they find, the more interesting the performance of the play.”
In order for conflict to happen, characters have to compete. Young actors must learn this. In every dramatic story, there is something critical at stake for at least one of the characters, something worth fighting for. When characters fight for something, it often puts them in competition with other characters.
That doesn’t automatically make someone a villain. In West Side Story, both the Sharks and the Jets are fighting for something positive for their groups.
Actions speak louder than words
To achieve what they’re fighting for, characters surprise, berate, or tease one another. They lie to, make deals with, or serenade each other. Those are actions characters take to fight in each moment for that thing that will bring about the change they seek. The key for actors is to name the action for each specific moment (it may change in the next moment as a character changes tactics), then to play that action.
While speaking is an action, to say a character is speaking is not necessarily dramatic. In theatre, characters use words to affect change. They cajole, persuade, reveal truths, belittle, and much more. Describe strong, specific actions. As Michael Shurtleff writes in his book Audition, “Only by each actor making the strongest choice of what he is fighting for in every scene can a play come alive.”
Looking for trouble
Conflict is a notion that we in the theatre seem to struggle with.
“I am always surprised at how actors try to iron out the conflict that may lurk below the surface of a scene, flattening it instead of heightening it,” Shurtleff observed in his book. “Perhaps we are taught so thoroughly in our everyday lives to avoid trouble that actors don’t realize they must go looking for it. The more conflict they find, the more interesting the performance of the play.”
3. Making a scene’s first moment pop
It depends entirely on the Moment Before
Edward Bloom in Big Fish learns a secret from a witch that he carries throughout his life. The actor playing Edward should carry that secret into every scene. In the 2019 West Mesa High School production of the musical, Enchantment Awards Best Actor nominee Corban Mejia plays Edward opposite Savanah Tuttle as the Witch. Photo courtesy of West Mesa High School Drama
Every scene in every play starts in the middle of something. Often, it’s the middle of a developing relationship or growing conflict. Even characters in the very first scene of a play bring history with them. So, all actors must know what history their characters are carrying into each scene and use that information to start those scenes. It gives any scene emotional power right from the start.
This is a concept Michael Shurtleff calls “The Moment Before.”
Big Fish, big moments
In the musical Big Fish, Edward Bloom learns from a witch when and how he will die. That information colors so much of his life. He then knows who his mortal enemies are so he can take the chance that any stranger can be a friend. He can live his life unafraid of dangers borne of taking risks. The stories that result are bigger than life.
What Edward can’t resolve is his relationship with his son who wants him to be a traditional father, something Edward can never be. Edward has to carry those two conflicting elements, at varying levels, into each scene in the musical. As the plot bounces back and forth between Edward as a younger man and Edward nearing death, the actor playing that part brings both elements into each scene. That helps the audience understand where we are in the overall story of Edward’s life and how urgent his desire for resolution with his son is.
How?
Actors who bring all the history of the character — up to the moment before a scene starts — with them into the scene give richer, more passionate performances. How do actors do that?
Journaling about the specifics of a character’s conflicts and relationship particulars, and synthesizing those notes into an emotional response before each entrance, can make a big difference. (We discussed relationship and conflict in the previous two newsletters.) Doing that helps an actor bring all of a character’s history — Shurtleff’s “Moment Before” — in with them for any entrance.
This is a concept Michael Shurtleff calls “The Moment Before.”
Big Fish, big moments
In the musical Big Fish, Edward Bloom learns from a witch when and how he will die. That information colors so much of his life. He then knows who his mortal enemies are so he can take the chance that any stranger can be a friend. He can live his life unafraid of dangers borne of taking risks. The stories that result are bigger than life.
What Edward can’t resolve is his relationship with his son who wants him to be a traditional father, something Edward can never be. Edward has to carry those two conflicting elements, at varying levels, into each scene in the musical. As the plot bounces back and forth between Edward as a younger man and Edward nearing death, the actor playing that part brings both elements into each scene. That helps the audience understand where we are in the overall story of Edward’s life and how urgent his desire for resolution with his son is.
How?
Actors who bring all the history of the character — up to the moment before a scene starts — with them into the scene give richer, more passionate performances. How do actors do that?
Journaling about the specifics of a character’s conflicts and relationship particulars, and synthesizing those notes into an emotional response before each entrance, can make a big difference. (We discussed relationship and conflict in the previous two newsletters.) Doing that helps an actor bring all of a character’s history — Shurtleff’s “Moment Before” — in with them for any entrance.
4. Humor is essential
Putting humor into dramas — and comedies — gives them life
During the filming of Pretty Woman, Richard Gere snapped the bracelet box shut on Julia Roberts in this scene. Though ad-libbed, it was a such a great moment of one lover teasing another that the writers kept it in the musical version. Here, Samantha Barks, as Vivian, reaches for the necklace offered by Andy Karl, as Edward, in the Broadway company of Pretty Woman: The Musical.
Young actors have a difficult time with the concept of humor, especially in serious plays. They might think that there’s nothing funny in the drama they’re doing. But as Michael Shurtleff says in Audition, “Humor is not being funny. It is the coin of exchange between human beings that makes it possible for us to get through the day.”
To help students understand this, pay attention to the humor you exchange with your students or that they exchange with each other. Literally make a note of those moments. Then, as you direct or coach them in a scene, bring those notes out and remind them of the very human moments where they inserted humor into everyday exchanges.
Humor log
Now, challenge your students to find those moments where someone in their own lives injected humor into very serious situations. Keep a Humor Log ready for students and allow them to add those moments they’ve found into the log. The entries can be brief and impersonal: “funny stories about the deceased at a funeral,” “trying to cheer someone up when they feel sick,” or “describing her deceased dog checking every day for her with his head tilted that funny way he does as he waits for her over the rainbow bridge.”
Humor brings familiarity to relationships. It’s the inside joke, the sharing of a memory, or a way to reminisce within a family. (“You always sound like Dad when you say that.”)
Humor, not jokes
Finding humor in comedies is also a challenge. There are a lot of jokes in comedies, but good actors also bring humor to the scene. For example, lovers tease one another as a form of intimacy. How can your students, playing romantic leads, do that? When does Fiona tease Shrek or Morticia tease Gomez? Adding humor to characters won’t make the comedies any funnier, but they will make them richer.
To help students understand this, pay attention to the humor you exchange with your students or that they exchange with each other. Literally make a note of those moments. Then, as you direct or coach them in a scene, bring those notes out and remind them of the very human moments where they inserted humor into everyday exchanges.
Humor log
Now, challenge your students to find those moments where someone in their own lives injected humor into very serious situations. Keep a Humor Log ready for students and allow them to add those moments they’ve found into the log. The entries can be brief and impersonal: “funny stories about the deceased at a funeral,” “trying to cheer someone up when they feel sick,” or “describing her deceased dog checking every day for her with his head tilted that funny way he does as he waits for her over the rainbow bridge.”
Humor brings familiarity to relationships. It’s the inside joke, the sharing of a memory, or a way to reminisce within a family. (“You always sound like Dad when you say that.”)
Humor, not jokes
Finding humor in comedies is also a challenge. There are a lot of jokes in comedies, but good actors also bring humor to the scene. For example, lovers tease one another as a form of intimacy. How can your students, playing romantic leads, do that? When does Fiona tease Shrek or Morticia tease Gomez? Adding humor to characters won’t make the comedies any funnier, but they will make them richer.
5. We let Dolores Umbridge teach this lesson
Finding opposites in a scene gives it great humanity
At the end of the musical Gypsy, Rose epitomizes the lesson "Be careful what you wish for." In the 2015 London revival, Imelda Staunton (Queen Elizabeth, The Crown; Dolores Umbridge for Harry Potter fans) won an Olivier Award for playing the role. In “Rose's Turn,” she demonstrates the “dark art” of playing opposing emotions. Photo: screen capture from the Gypsy video
Dolores Umbridge taught Hogwarts students Defence Against the Dark Arts in the Harry Potter saga. The actress who played Imelda, Imelda Staunton, demonstrated a knowledge of theatrical dark arts in another role: Rose in a London revival of Gypsy. When she sang "Rose's Turn" at the end of the story, all the conflicting emotions that Rose has felt through the decades with her children and for herself come pouring out, and Staunton gave life to every one of them.
Humans feel opposite emotions all the time: a son’s grief for his father’s death mixes with relief that his father’s suffering from a long illness has ended; the warmth of the mother who, after her child’s latest calamity, says “I’m going to kill him” with a loving smile; the happy member of the winning team who feels remorse that her best friend is on the losing team.
Young actors need to recognize these opposing emotions and learn how to play them.
How to help students get it
Most students will understand those moments of opposing feelings; they’ve experienced them. To help them play those opposites, try this:
Have your students read a scene or a monologue. Find the emotional core — longing, anger, joy — and read the scene with that dominant, driving emotion. Then find that emotion’s opposite for the scene — (maybe) loathing, calm, heartbreak — and play the scene with that emotion driving the action. Now that the student has felt both emotions while speaking the same words, they are very likely to be able to mix those emotions in their next (and every subsequent) reading of that scene.
“It is the actor’s creation of opposites that develops conflict, and therefore drama, and therefore interest,” according to Michael Shurtleff in his book Audition. “For some unfathomable reason, actors are fond of bringing onstage the resolution of a conflict, which is tidy and dead, rather than the conflict itself, which is exciting.” We think you’ll agree once you watch Imelda.
Humans feel opposite emotions all the time: a son’s grief for his father’s death mixes with relief that his father’s suffering from a long illness has ended; the warmth of the mother who, after her child’s latest calamity, says “I’m going to kill him” with a loving smile; the happy member of the winning team who feels remorse that her best friend is on the losing team.
Young actors need to recognize these opposing emotions and learn how to play them.
How to help students get it
Most students will understand those moments of opposing feelings; they’ve experienced them. To help them play those opposites, try this:
Have your students read a scene or a monologue. Find the emotional core — longing, anger, joy — and read the scene with that dominant, driving emotion. Then find that emotion’s opposite for the scene — (maybe) loathing, calm, heartbreak — and play the scene with that emotion driving the action. Now that the student has felt both emotions while speaking the same words, they are very likely to be able to mix those emotions in their next (and every subsequent) reading of that scene.
“It is the actor’s creation of opposites that develops conflict, and therefore drama, and therefore interest,” according to Michael Shurtleff in his book Audition. “For some unfathomable reason, actors are fond of bringing onstage the resolution of a conflict, which is tidy and dead, rather than the conflict itself, which is exciting.” We think you’ll agree once you watch Imelda.
6. Discover a secret to better acting
Scripts offer lots of discoveries. Young actors should play them.
Sutton Foster performs “Morning Person” in the original Broadway company of Shrek The Musical. Photo: screen shot from the video
In Shrek The Musical, Fiona rises from sleep, having gone to bed as an ogre, but waking up “normal” again. She discovers the delights of the day in the song “Morning Person.” The many emotions Sutton Foster brings to the moments of that song are a great lesson in Discovery, right down to her last “I’m okay.”
Every play is about a day unlike any other. That means the characters in it are constantly discovering something new because nearly everything about their circumstance is new. Your actors should be finding those moments of discovery, and the different emotions that arise from those moments.
Michael Shurtleff described the need for discovery in an actor’s work in his book Audition. “The more discoveries you make in a scene … the more interesting your scene will be. It’s hard to bring vitality and life to routine, but they are difficult to escape when you have the excitement of discoveries.” He wants an actor to assume everything is new to each character, or looked at in a new way, so actors can “make an emotional discovery as often as you can find one in every scene.”
Ring those bells
To get your students working on this concept, have a pair of your students work on a scene in front of the rest of your group. Divide the group into two sides, one being the “bell” for Actor 1, the other being the “bell” for Actor 2. Every time Actor 1 makes a discovery and reacts perceptibly to it, the Actor 1 Bells chime. Every time Actor 2 makes a discovery, the Actor 2 Bells sound. Keep score to see who makes the most discoveries.
With a little work, your actors may soon find that discoveries are like fractals: there are discoveries in discoveries, that they break down into smaller and smaller moments, thus offering a great number of opportunities to make discoveries.
Who wins?
If your students all see the discoveries Actor 1 and Actor 2 found — and maybe a few more they didn’t — they all win.
Every play is about a day unlike any other. That means the characters in it are constantly discovering something new because nearly everything about their circumstance is new. Your actors should be finding those moments of discovery, and the different emotions that arise from those moments.
Michael Shurtleff described the need for discovery in an actor’s work in his book Audition. “The more discoveries you make in a scene … the more interesting your scene will be. It’s hard to bring vitality and life to routine, but they are difficult to escape when you have the excitement of discoveries.” He wants an actor to assume everything is new to each character, or looked at in a new way, so actors can “make an emotional discovery as often as you can find one in every scene.”
Ring those bells
To get your students working on this concept, have a pair of your students work on a scene in front of the rest of your group. Divide the group into two sides, one being the “bell” for Actor 1, the other being the “bell” for Actor 2. Every time Actor 1 makes a discovery and reacts perceptibly to it, the Actor 1 Bells chime. Every time Actor 2 makes a discovery, the Actor 2 Bells sound. Keep score to see who makes the most discoveries.
With a little work, your actors may soon find that discoveries are like fractals: there are discoveries in discoveries, that they break down into smaller and smaller moments, thus offering a great number of opportunities to make discoveries.
Who wins?
If your students all see the discoveries Actor 1 and Actor 2 found — and maybe a few more they didn’t — they all win.
7. Bringing the heat to your show’s scenes
Rock Paper Scissors helps embody the intensity theater can require
Joanne (Tracie Thoms) tells Maureen (Eden Espinosa) that she never quits in the song "Take Me or Leave Me" as captured in Rent: Filmed Live on Broadway. Photo: screen capture from the video
Maureen and Joanne duel passionately about their relationship, each working to get the other to see them as they are, in “Take Me of Leave Me” from RENT. Sid and Babe in The Pajama Game each claim a love more powerful than the greatest lovers in history in “There Once Was a Man.”
These duets epitomize Michael Shurtleff’s guidepost for Communication and Competition detailed in his book Audition. In any scene, each character listens to the other and responds honestly to what’s been expressed, both verbally and emotionally. Very emotionally.
We humans compete with one another, even when we love one another. (“I love you more than you love me!”) Actors have to hear and see the depths of feelings the other character has in each moment and respond in kind for their own character. Often, that response will raise the stakes — and emotional heat — to another level.
Young actors will likely feel more comfortable practicing this concept with battle scenes — Katherine and Petruchio, Beatrice and Benedict, Maureen and Joanne — before trying a more traditional love scene. Whatever the scene, your actors have to truly listen to be able to respond at the next higher level.
Rock Paper Scissors
To help them, have them play a game of Rock Paper Scissors as they speak the lines. Actor A puts out, say, Rock while speaking the first line. Actor B responds with Paper for the next line, and so on. Occasionally, a character’s responding line might be ineffective so instead of covering Rock with Paper, one might respond with Scissors, which is silly or absurd or inappropriate, as the line might be, but the actor can only respond that way if they are truly listening. For more nuance, consider size — cuticle scissors to hedge clippers — as part of the game.
While Rock Paper Scissors might not fit every line in a scene, it can help make physical the idea that scenes are filled with rising emotions and ever increasing competition that must be communicated.
These duets epitomize Michael Shurtleff’s guidepost for Communication and Competition detailed in his book Audition. In any scene, each character listens to the other and responds honestly to what’s been expressed, both verbally and emotionally. Very emotionally.
We humans compete with one another, even when we love one another. (“I love you more than you love me!”) Actors have to hear and see the depths of feelings the other character has in each moment and respond in kind for their own character. Often, that response will raise the stakes — and emotional heat — to another level.
Young actors will likely feel more comfortable practicing this concept with battle scenes — Katherine and Petruchio, Beatrice and Benedict, Maureen and Joanne — before trying a more traditional love scene. Whatever the scene, your actors have to truly listen to be able to respond at the next higher level.
Rock Paper Scissors
To help them, have them play a game of Rock Paper Scissors as they speak the lines. Actor A puts out, say, Rock while speaking the first line. Actor B responds with Paper for the next line, and so on. Occasionally, a character’s responding line might be ineffective so instead of covering Rock with Paper, one might respond with Scissors, which is silly or absurd or inappropriate, as the line might be, but the actor can only respond that way if they are truly listening. For more nuance, consider size — cuticle scissors to hedge clippers — as part of the game.
While Rock Paper Scissors might not fit every line in a scene, it can help make physical the idea that scenes are filled with rising emotions and ever increasing competition that must be communicated.
8. From ordinary to extraordinary
Find the importance in a scene to lift it out of the everyday
Jennifer Holliday performs “And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going” in the original Broadway production of Dreamgirls. Her tear-your-heart-out performance, captured on video at the 1982 Tony Awards, shows how important this moment is to her character, Effie, as the man she loves tells her she has been replaced in her singing group and that he’s leaving her. In the song, we see the dreams Effie was so close to attaining shatter irreparably and how the shards of that dream rip her to pieces. Photo: screen shot from the video
“We are trained as children that the most admirable conduct is that which causes the least trouble, so most of us spend our lives avoiding the conflicts of which drama is made,” Michael Shurtleff wrote in his book Audition.
Teach your students that conflict, presented on the stage, is essential. That’s because, as Shurtleff says, “Plays are written about the most important moments of people’s lives,” and what we do in those moments.
When students learn acting, they are asked to present truthful or authentic emotions. Often, students translate "truthful" to what they see every day, according to Shurtleff. It’s familiar and definitely truthful, but it’s not dramatic. Consider instead the emotions of someone running through the airport to board a plane for a life-altering possibility, but arriving too late. As she watches the plane pull away from the gate, her emotions are very honest, but definitely not something we see every day.
“It’s important for an actor to realize that what he must use in his acting is the opposite of what he has been trained in life to seek,” writes Shurtleff. “Peacefulness and the avoidance of trouble won’t help him in his acting. It is just the opposite he must seek.”
As you teach students to portray emotions — whether by Method or Spolin or Chekhov — add in a raising of the stakes. It doesn't have to be life or death; importance is relative. To most, getting the wrong order in a restaurant is a minor inconvenience, but we’ve all seen a customer become livid because their over-easy eggs were delivered scrambled. How those eggs were cooked was very important to that person in that moment.
Help your students find what makes their scenes important to their characters. (Here’s a hint from Shurtleff: “People live for their dreams, not for the oppressiveness of truths.”) First, have them play a scene as though it were an ordinary moment. Next, help them see why their characters deem this moment to be essential. Then have them play the scene driven by those higher stakes.
To begin, they can play the scene small and intimate so they get used to playing that level of emotion. Slowly have the actors play it bigger so it becomes stageworthy. Doing all this, the difference in the scene will be extraordinary.
Teach your students that conflict, presented on the stage, is essential. That’s because, as Shurtleff says, “Plays are written about the most important moments of people’s lives,” and what we do in those moments.
When students learn acting, they are asked to present truthful or authentic emotions. Often, students translate "truthful" to what they see every day, according to Shurtleff. It’s familiar and definitely truthful, but it’s not dramatic. Consider instead the emotions of someone running through the airport to board a plane for a life-altering possibility, but arriving too late. As she watches the plane pull away from the gate, her emotions are very honest, but definitely not something we see every day.
“It’s important for an actor to realize that what he must use in his acting is the opposite of what he has been trained in life to seek,” writes Shurtleff. “Peacefulness and the avoidance of trouble won’t help him in his acting. It is just the opposite he must seek.”
As you teach students to portray emotions — whether by Method or Spolin or Chekhov — add in a raising of the stakes. It doesn't have to be life or death; importance is relative. To most, getting the wrong order in a restaurant is a minor inconvenience, but we’ve all seen a customer become livid because their over-easy eggs were delivered scrambled. How those eggs were cooked was very important to that person in that moment.
Help your students find what makes their scenes important to their characters. (Here’s a hint from Shurtleff: “People live for their dreams, not for the oppressiveness of truths.”) First, have them play a scene as though it were an ordinary moment. Next, help them see why their characters deem this moment to be essential. Then have them play the scene driven by those higher stakes.
To begin, they can play the scene small and intimate so they get used to playing that level of emotion. Slowly have the actors play it bigger so it becomes stageworthy. Doing all this, the difference in the scene will be extraordinary.
9. Find a script’s events to bring it to life
Learn how in the quick lesson below
In the example above, we’ve found the events in Act One, Scene 2 of Into the Woods by Stephen Sondheim & James Lapine. You might find very different events, or describe them in wholly different ways, but this provides an example of how to do the work.
In Into the Woods, The Baker and his wife try to convince Jack to sell his cow to them for five beans. Nearly every line in that exchange has a turning point — an event — that must be teased out and played.
Events are changes, confrontations, or climaxes to actions or scenes. They can be subtle, even hidden, or very obvious, but there are more events in a scene than we typically see at first reading.
Michael Shurtleff, in his seminal book Audition, described many actors as getting so deeply into their characters and attendant emotions that they lose sight of the events of the play. “Events make a play progress; character or behavior alone will not do that,” he said.
How to find events
We recommend you find the events as a group exercise. Led by you, the actors will start seeing these events. Once you find them, work on how they are played.
A key to doing so is playing them in the present. Many young actors play scenes and events as though they have been pre-planned. While some devious characters devise actions ahead of time — that’s what devious characters do — most actions (the events of the play) happen in the moment.
The annotated script above points out one interpretation of the events of the scene in Into the Woods, big and small. All are actionable, which really helps bring each scene alive.
Verbs
You may be familiar with a book called Actioning by Nick Moseley. It asks actors to assign active (transitive) verbs to their lines. It suggests that in every exchange, each character is trying to get something from the other, get them to do something, or affect them in some way. By having the actor express that as a transitive verb — persuade, woo, mislead, tease, hurt — they have identified the action required for that moment, that line. Actioning is certainly one way to help your students find and play events in a scene.
Events are changes, confrontations, or climaxes to actions or scenes. They can be subtle, even hidden, or very obvious, but there are more events in a scene than we typically see at first reading.
Michael Shurtleff, in his seminal book Audition, described many actors as getting so deeply into their characters and attendant emotions that they lose sight of the events of the play. “Events make a play progress; character or behavior alone will not do that,” he said.
How to find events
We recommend you find the events as a group exercise. Led by you, the actors will start seeing these events. Once you find them, work on how they are played.
A key to doing so is playing them in the present. Many young actors play scenes and events as though they have been pre-planned. While some devious characters devise actions ahead of time — that’s what devious characters do — most actions (the events of the play) happen in the moment.
The annotated script above points out one interpretation of the events of the scene in Into the Woods, big and small. All are actionable, which really helps bring each scene alive.
Verbs
You may be familiar with a book called Actioning by Nick Moseley. It asks actors to assign active (transitive) verbs to their lines. It suggests that in every exchange, each character is trying to get something from the other, get them to do something, or affect them in some way. By having the actor express that as a transitive verb — persuade, woo, mislead, tease, hurt — they have identified the action required for that moment, that line. Actioning is certainly one way to help your students find and play events in a scene.
10. Where are we?
Reacting to place is an important part of storytelling
Student actors in New Mexico often perform on empty or near-empty stages, asking audiences to use their imaginations to fill in the details of place. The actors can help the audience — and themselves — by responding to specific emotional cues in each setting. Photo by cottonbro studio.
Michael Shurtleff wrote his book, Audition, to help aspiring actors show themselves in the best light at any audition or callback. Those who teach acting quickly recognized that the book contained advice that extended to rehearsals and performance as well, and the book quickly became a textbook on acting.
His chapter on place, though, seems to apply solely to auditions. After all, the first sentence of the chapter reads: “Most readings take place on a bare stage, which is not the most useful environment for an actor.” But how many of your shows take place on a bare or nearly bare stage?
He advises that actors recall places with specific details to use in their acting. If the character is at home, how does the actor react to her own home? If the character is in an unfamiliar place, the actor should recall visiting such a location to help with the appropriate emotional response. Note that we’re describing reactions and responses rather than feelings. Reactions and responses are actions; feelings are not.
Shurtleff actually uses the word “feeling” to describe the work, but beginning actors might not understand that feelings aren’t by themselves actable. Feelings are only shown through actions.
Turn on a light
Consider this simple action: walking into a room and turning on the light. In a strange place, you search for the switch, turn it on, look at the light to see which one the switch controls, look around the room to see where to step next, then move. At home, you can walk in, flip the switch without looking for it, and know right where to head next. The first scenario is an exploration; the second indicates comfort and familiarity.
Shurtleff is very right when he tells us that we know when a character is home by the way the actor responds to “being home” in the scene, even when that scene is performed on a bare stage.
His chapter on place, though, seems to apply solely to auditions. After all, the first sentence of the chapter reads: “Most readings take place on a bare stage, which is not the most useful environment for an actor.” But how many of your shows take place on a bare or nearly bare stage?
He advises that actors recall places with specific details to use in their acting. If the character is at home, how does the actor react to her own home? If the character is in an unfamiliar place, the actor should recall visiting such a location to help with the appropriate emotional response. Note that we’re describing reactions and responses rather than feelings. Reactions and responses are actions; feelings are not.
Shurtleff actually uses the word “feeling” to describe the work, but beginning actors might not understand that feelings aren’t by themselves actable. Feelings are only shown through actions.
Turn on a light
Consider this simple action: walking into a room and turning on the light. In a strange place, you search for the switch, turn it on, look at the light to see which one the switch controls, look around the room to see where to step next, then move. At home, you can walk in, flip the switch without looking for it, and know right where to head next. The first scenario is an exploration; the second indicates comfort and familiarity.
Shurtleff is very right when he tells us that we know when a character is home by the way the actor responds to “being home” in the scene, even when that scene is performed on a bare stage.
11. Playing games
… and taking it seriously
In Disney's Beauty and the Beast, Belle and Beast each find formidable opponents in the other. Their rivalry is a game each plays for keeps and their passion becomes the way they each find a connection to the other. Here, Walker Sikkens and Chloe Montoya, both Enchantment Awards alumni, play the two title characters in the 2019 production of the show by Rio Rancho High School. Photo provided by Gael Natal.
Just for fun, imagine the plot of your next production being told by a pair of sports announcers. For example:
“And, Belle throws down the challenge! She takes her father’s place in Beast’s castle! How will Beast respond?”
“Ooo. He’s moved her from the cell to her own room. Point for Beast.”
“Uh-oh. He’s ordering her to dinner. That’s an unforced error.”
“But Belle refuses! Point for Belle! What will Beast do now?”
“Beast denies her access to any food. Wow! We are at a stalemate.”
“But look! Belle is making an end run to the kitchen. And finds a feast! Point for Belle. Maybe two!”
By imagining the plot of any play as a sport or game, you can immediately see the moment-by-moment stakes of that script. What’s more, that gamesmanship helps actors play in the moment and heighten the stakes in their acting.
Take it seriously
In his book Audition, Michael Shurtleff talks about the importance of game playing and role playing. He encourages actors to determine what game is being played in the moment and what role their character takes in that game. He also insists that these games be played with total sincerity, and that they not be taken lightly. No game is worth watching if the players don’t care who wins.
Apply this analogy for any play you’re rehearsing or any scene study work. See if it lifts the efforts of your actors to a new level of urgency, which is important to any story told in the theatre.
“And, Belle throws down the challenge! She takes her father’s place in Beast’s castle! How will Beast respond?”
“Ooo. He’s moved her from the cell to her own room. Point for Beast.”
“Uh-oh. He’s ordering her to dinner. That’s an unforced error.”
“But Belle refuses! Point for Belle! What will Beast do now?”
“Beast denies her access to any food. Wow! We are at a stalemate.”
“But look! Belle is making an end run to the kitchen. And finds a feast! Point for Belle. Maybe two!”
By imagining the plot of any play as a sport or game, you can immediately see the moment-by-moment stakes of that script. What’s more, that gamesmanship helps actors play in the moment and heighten the stakes in their acting.
Take it seriously
In his book Audition, Michael Shurtleff talks about the importance of game playing and role playing. He encourages actors to determine what game is being played in the moment and what role their character takes in that game. He also insists that these games be played with total sincerity, and that they not be taken lightly. No game is worth watching if the players don’t care who wins.
Apply this analogy for any play you’re rehearsing or any scene study work. See if it lifts the efforts of your actors to a new level of urgency, which is important to any story told in the theatre.
12. Can you keep a secret? Can your actors?
When characters have secrets, we can’t take our eyes off of them.
Will Binette performs “Who I’d Be” from Shrek the Musical in Cottonwood Classical Preparatory School’s 2018 production, revealing his character’s secret desire to be a stereotypical hero. Photo provided by Cottonwood Classical Preparatory School.
Coaching your students to play the mysteries and secrets of their characters starts with saying yes.
Actors, especially young ones, like to say no. In Oklahoma!, does Laurey say yes to Jud’s invitation to the box social because she has feelings for him? Ask your actress if Laurey likes Jud and she is likely to say no, that Laurey only said yes to Jud so Curly would be jealous. Isn’t it more interesting if Laurey finds Jud a little mysterious and darkly attractive?
Both Laurey and Jud have secrets to play. Jud doesn’t reveal a lot about himself to anyone. He threatens Curly, but we only learn he’s actually capable of murder until he buys a deadly weapon. Laurey’s secret desires are revealed to the audience in the dream sequence but not to other characters. That gives the actress a lot of opportunity to play out Laurey’s innermost desires.
Those secrets also give both characters a great sense of mystery. Audiences love characters who have things to hide. Sometimes the audience knows the secret — Batman’s identity — and ride the suspense of if, when, and how other characters find out. Sometimes we don’t know the secret — “Luke, I am your father” — and the gasps mark the thrill of that reveal.
Who knows the secret?
Some secrets are exposed to other characters, such as Mimi and Roger discovering their mutual AIDS diagnoses in RENT. Some secrets are only revealed to the audience, such as Shrek’s revelation that he wants to be a hero in the solo “Who I’d Be.” Many characters never reveal their secrets. That gives actors great latitude in finding a secret for that character and playing it.
Humans are supremely curious about other people, especially their secrets. When an actor says no to the possibilities of secret desires and motivations, they turn their characters into cardboard cutouts. When they say yes to those secrets, those mysterious characteristics, they start to contribute so much more depth to the story being told.
Actors, especially young ones, like to say no. In Oklahoma!, does Laurey say yes to Jud’s invitation to the box social because she has feelings for him? Ask your actress if Laurey likes Jud and she is likely to say no, that Laurey only said yes to Jud so Curly would be jealous. Isn’t it more interesting if Laurey finds Jud a little mysterious and darkly attractive?
Both Laurey and Jud have secrets to play. Jud doesn’t reveal a lot about himself to anyone. He threatens Curly, but we only learn he’s actually capable of murder until he buys a deadly weapon. Laurey’s secret desires are revealed to the audience in the dream sequence but not to other characters. That gives the actress a lot of opportunity to play out Laurey’s innermost desires.
Those secrets also give both characters a great sense of mystery. Audiences love characters who have things to hide. Sometimes the audience knows the secret — Batman’s identity — and ride the suspense of if, when, and how other characters find out. Sometimes we don’t know the secret — “Luke, I am your father” — and the gasps mark the thrill of that reveal.
Who knows the secret?
Some secrets are exposed to other characters, such as Mimi and Roger discovering their mutual AIDS diagnoses in RENT. Some secrets are only revealed to the audience, such as Shrek’s revelation that he wants to be a hero in the solo “Who I’d Be.” Many characters never reveal their secrets. That gives actors great latitude in finding a secret for that character and playing it.
Humans are supremely curious about other people, especially their secrets. When an actor says no to the possibilities of secret desires and motivations, they turn their characters into cardboard cutouts. When they say yes to those secrets, those mysterious characteristics, they start to contribute so much more depth to the story being told.