How to Act "Wrong" (Gaston)Download text as Word-file
Sounds good, doesn’t it? But the old question remains whether it’s necessary for
magicians "to be an actor who plays the part of a magician." What use has acting
in magic if I don’t want to play a "role," but do pure magic? These are questions for
which the answers are as diverse as the people asking them. For a performer in
general, be it actor or magician, it’s very important to ask these questions. Here
are some of my own personal answers.
I want to start my small excursion into this twilight zone with a definition by
Peter Brook, the famous director of British theater:
"A man walks across an empty space whilst someone else is watching him,
and this is all that is needed for an act of theater to be engaged."
(quoted from 'The Empty Space' by Peter Brook, Penguin Books, 1990)
Regarding the area of magic, one might change this definition to something like this:
A man places a card on the table while someone else is watching him; this is all that
is needed for an act of theater to be engaged.
This is not about "playing roles" or reciting rehearsed lines. This is about the situation
itself, somebody is doing something while another is watching. Both the art of magic
and the art of acting are based on the same supposition: the presence of an audience
is necessary to turn both into "acts of theater." It doesn’t matter where—either at a
restaurant table or on a stage—because as long as there are spectators, a form of
theater, a performance, takes place.
For hundreds of years actors have been exploring the laws and rules of this
"stage-situation" and magicians are, in my opinion, able to profit from this
knowledge. To explain the possible applications of these experiences to the
art of magic, I want to separate acting in two main areas: First, "acting a
situation" and, second, "playing a role." Acting a situation means to
impersonate an event, (e.g., a love declaration, a murder, an accident).
Still it doesn’t matter who finds himself in this situation. It could be Lennart
Green planning a murder (it’s just an example), or Hamlet showing a card
trick. An actor working in such situations or scenes has to ask himself certain
elementary questions:
When does the event happen?
Where does it happen?
What happens and why?
Who is taking part in the scene?
The answer to the last question determines whether it’s just acting a situation
or also playing a role. If the answer is: Hamlet, Columbus, or a nutty professor,
we are talking about playing a role. If the answer, however, is simply "me,"
then we have to deal with "acting a situation." The following thoughts concentrate
on the notion of acting a situation and, in this case, the answers to the other
questions are easily found:
How to make a mistake—the right way.
Imagine the following scene: After wild shuffling of playing cards, the spectator
freely selects a card which seems to vanish in the deck while it’s mixed. The
magician snaps his fingers and reveals the King of Hearts. The spectator, however,
picked the Ace of Spades. The master magician is confused and tries vainly to
locate the missing selection. Suddenly an idea hits the mystery man in the form
of a mesmerizing magical gesture and, surprisingly, the King of Hearts changes
into the Ace of Spades.
That’s a situation which might seem all too familiar since there are tons of routines
structured after this "sucker" pattern. Unfortunately, the spectators are only too
often forced to watch truly horrible acting by the magician, who pretends to make
a mistake. The result is that no member of the audience believes that there has
been a mistake. However, (depending on the routine), the mental misdirection
provided by the presentational stratagem of an apparent mistake might be
important to cover a bold move or any other secret technique.
But how does one succeed in making such a situation more credible and,
therefore, increase the deceptive quality of the effect?
A method that is very useful is "subtext." What is subtext? Where do I get it and
how do I use it?
Subtext is how we define everything that goes on below (sub) the surface—that
is, below the things actually done, or the words actually said. For example, if I
have controlled the wrong card to the top of the deck and try to recall what went
wrong, and where the actual selection might be, all thoughts, feelings, and actions
going on other then the actions I physically make, or the words I actually say,
are the subtext of my activity.
In my opinion there are two different kinds of subtext: the classical subtext or
inner monologue, and the action subtext on the level of action.
The inner monologue take place mainly in the performer’s head. It consists of
all those thoughts and feelings present in the head of a person actually living
that situation.
The action subtext consists of person’s actions which are visible to an audience
and express the thoughts and feelings of the person’s inner monologue. The action
subtext is nothing more than the visual side of the inner monologue.
For me, the action subtext plays a central role, since I can have the best inner
monologue in the world but, if the audience can’t see (or sense) whats going
inside me, it’s all in vain.
Another example should clear things up a bit: A small boy breaks the expensive
vase in the living room and is just looking at the broken pieces on the floor when
his mother comes home. She looks for her son, finds him in the living room, and
faces a rather guilty-looking young man. The inner monologue of the boy might go
something like this: "Shit, now I’m in trouble, I’ll be grounded if she notices the
broken vase. If she notices it, but may be she won’t so I can glue the pieces back
together again . . . hmmm, why doesn’t she leave . . . ."
The action subtext for the preceding might look like this: the boy nervously shifts
his weight from one foot to the other, and tries to look innocent but avoids eye
contact. He conceals his hands behind his back and whistles, the whistling
sounding more like whispering. The actual (spoken) text might be, "Hi Mom,
how did your shopping go?" For Mom, however, everything is clear from the
beginning—his action subtext has tipped her off that he’s been naughty—even
if she hasn’t seen the broken vase yet.
The advantage of classical subtext is the fact that the concentration on the inner
monologue alone leads to changes on the level of action. To combine both ways,
however, is best since they support each other perfectly. The inner monologue fills
the actions with "life" and makes sure the spectators really do participate in the
acting of the magician.
Here are some hints about how to find subtext as used by Method actors. Actually
it’s very simple, just like Oz, it originates within you. Click your heels twice, say
"There’s no place like home," and think. In every person there are thousands of
experiences and actions which can be used like research material at a library.
If I can’t find an experience within myself for a particular context, then it might
help to look at others and life in general. More specifically: The first step to
finding the subtext for a certain situation is to recall a similar situation.
Referring to the introductory example of finding the wrong card, you would
look for another situation in which you really did make a mistake. Try to
remember: how did you feel in that case? How did you perceive your
environment, yourself, and the people around you? (Example, "I felt warm,
nervous, everybody seemed to be looking at me in strange way, I didn’t
know what to do next, felt frozen to the spot, words caught in my throat,"
etc.)
The first thing you will notice is the fact that it feels uncomfortable to
make a mistake, and there’s nothing to be happy about. On the
outside you want to keep a "poker face" as if nothing has happened,
but on the inside you feel like dying and would like to hide or run away.
But this isn’t possible in real life situations. "The show must go on."
This causes an enormous conflict between the inside ("I want to run
away") and the outside ("the spectators are still there and expect a
miracle, after all I am a magician").
Admittedly it’s uncomfortable, but you must continue to "live" through these
sufferings every time you have to replay the given situation (of making a
mistake, for example). In order to "act" a mistake over and over again in
a convincing manner it’s necessary to understand exactly what happens
in this situation and how you would normally behave. Then and only then
you can start to subdivide the whole scene into smaller parts. The smaller
parts are then assigned instructions for certain actions. This way you will
get a detailed plan of instructions guiding you through the given situation,
enabling you to act it authentically over and over again.
The first part in our example of "making a mistake" concludes at the moment
where the performer realizes that he hasn’t found the correct card. The second
part ends shortly before the solution (how to "get out of it") pops into his head,
and the last part is the magical transformation itself. This subdivison, however,
can be refined even further. It’s important to proceed step by step and to think
exactly about which kind of emotional states or better actions follow each other.
Actions are of much more use when putting together such a script since they
can be played more easily than emotional states.
Below is my personal action subtext list for "making a mistake." It might look
too detailed at first, but serves well as an illustration of the points I’ve tried to
make:
These are my "instructions" for playing the situation and it helps me to repeat
them over and over again like a mantra. The last refinement is to fill those single
actions with "life." You should think about what is on your mind when you’re
"pondering" (classic subtext) or what your hands do at that time, for example,
fiddling with your jacket (action subtext). Again, you can write lists to use when
rehearsing to find the best variations (look below) or you can improvise during
your rehearsals, noting down those moments which have been convincing and
effective and give them names (these "names" should be given in form of verbs).
Here are some examples for the classical subtext (inner monologue):
By the way—it’s great fun to make the worst mistake in the world if you’re
allowed, and on stage you’re allowed, so get going!
To play or not to play
that is the question,
but is it nobler in the
mind to act and live in character,
or just do magic pure and pure
and nothing else but this
What for this theater,
just cards and coins are on my mind
whatfore this theater, whatfore.
When? Now.
Where? Here.
Who? Me and the spectators.
The question: "What happens and why?" is of fundamental importance and has
to be answered in great detail to be able to repeat the same situation in an
authentic and lively way over and over again. Both actors and magicians have
to deal with this problem if they want to perform a scene or routine more than
just once. To make the above explanations more specific here an example:
I show the spectator his card
I wait, convinced that he will affirm its identity
I am startled when he states that it is not his card
I reassure myself that the spectator is wrong
I now slowly realize that I have made a mistake
I ponder about what went wrong and where the selection might be
I notice the spectators, they are still there—waiting . . .
I try to hide my uncertainty and fight the impulse to run away
I feverishly look for an "out"
I get the idea that saves me
I solve the problem, produce the correct card, and am relieved at the end
Hurrah. Hurrah. Hurrah.
In real life this whole procedure might last just a few seconds, but all of these
thoughts, feelings, and actions take place in one way or another when I make
a mistake as a performer.
I slowly realize I have made a mistake:
What, it wasn’t the Ace of Spades? But this isn’t possible, it must be the right
card, I didn’t loose my break. The spectator must be wrong . . . no he isn’t,
damn—and what’ll I do now?
I ponder:
Okay, think. What happened . . . I took the card back, put it into the deck, got
my break above it . . . but why have I controlled the wrong card . . . again, I put
the card back into the deck and . . .
I notice the spectators:
Ooops, they are still here . . . they’re still waiting for that "miracle" . . . I bet t
hey’ve already noticed that I messed up the trick . . .
I try to hide my uncertainty:
Damn, what can I do now. Help. I want to hide in a BIG way . . . I should
have practiced more—something has to happen now . . . may be I should
tell a joke or should I sneak out? I wish I’d become a ventriloquist instead.
A solution occurs to me:
Gee. I just have to use those magic words from page 97, snap my fingers
once, and throw three chicken bones behind me . . . Yes, that’s it.
This should work . . .
And now the examples for the action subtext:
I slowly realize I have made a mistake:
I look at the card
I examine the card closely
I look at the spectators in disbelief
I look at the floor
I ponder:
I bite my lip
I mumble
I stare into the air
I touch my nose
I make a whispering sound
I notice the spectators:
I am frightened
I stop breathing
I fall over
I try to hide my uncertainty:
I laugh nervously
I fiddle with my clothes
I avoid eye contact
I hide (behind the table, the cards, whatever)
I tell a joke
I try to be a big-shot
I think of a solution:
I snap my fingers
I sigh, relieved
I look directly at the spectator
During the rehearsals you must enact every single step for a couple of
minutes, continuously trying to make changes and discover new feelings
or thoughts relevant to the situation. In the next phase, put all those steps
together and look for smooth transitions between the actions. Finally, you
compress everything into "real time." All that remains of the above,
admittedly rather theoretical ballet, might be a single "ahem." This,
however, is the end result of an intense working process and therefore
has enough depth to make the mistake look authentic to the audience.
