Last weekend, I gave a three-day adult acting workshop in Ireland. I’ve been giving such workshops for about 30 years, and I always enjoy them. This was set in a lovely old converted farmhouse in the middle of rural Tipperary.
You start with a group, and most of them don’t know each other. You also don’t know what they can do, so I always begin in the same way. I throw a lot of movement-based improv at them and mix in some sense memory exercises like “smell a rose” and “remember a sunset.” This is because people should start from where they are, and how they think and feel. If they start in their own heads, they can connect with what others are thinking and feeling. They could be crossing an icy pond or negotiating a deep ravine. When they work together, it forces them to make offers like “the ice is thin here” and accept ideas from others. Acting is about other people, especially listening to them.
Then I look at scripts, and here they usually work with a partner. I show them a way of discovering their character’s backstory that brings them closer to understanding how they tick. In acting, we think about what the character wants or desires – what drives them. Then everyone knows where they are coming from and where they’re going to. I also throw in some movement work so they find different ways of moving – that shakes them up a bit.
This group was up for all the fun. They made moments of stillness and quiet emotion as well as shouty losses of control. They worked for each other as much as for themselves. Offstage, there was a fantastic camaraderie, eating and drinking together, telling stories and much
laughter. All that warmth and friendliness brings the group closer together, so when they go back into the studio, they are generous and fired up for more.
I love to see how they relax and change over their time together. I always ask them to comment positively on what they have seen in others, and they always find something positive, honest and authentic to say. That brings people even closer together. I like how they take on the imaginary world of the play and try to make it truthful.
It’s a bit of a cliché, I know, but it’s great to be reminded that we’re all human – we all share dreams, fears, joys and hardships. They play out their ideas with such passion. You can’t help but be drawn into their stories, and you’re frequently moved by their work. They can make you laugh out loud, and they can make you catch your breath or shed a tear. It’s all in the moment. The greatest compliment I can pay them is to say I believed in every performance, the highs and lows of their characters. It was a privilege to share in such openness and joy.
