The Books: A Dream of Passion: The Development of the Method, by Lee Strasberg

Daily Book Excerpt: Theatre

Next book on the acting/theatre shelf is A Dream of Passion: The Development of the Method , by Lee Strasberg

Lee Strasberg’s book on how he developed The Method, expanding on Constantin Stanislavkski’s “System”, was a project he worked on for years and which he died before completing, although there was a manuscript in evidence. Strasberg had been urged by his second wife, Anna, to put down his thoughts and his methods, to try to explain what it was he was actually doing at the Actors Studio, and how he came about developing his ideas. Strasberg, a methodical clinical man, began in the 70s. A voluminous reader from almost the first moment he arrived on the planet, Strasberg began to research what he wanted to say, which led him down many pathways of not only memory but discovery. Some theorist in the 17th century who said something interesting about live acting would then lead him to another book and another book and another book … The project was unwieldy and it is amazing that A Dream of Passion is actually so slim a volume, considering the sheer amount of research that went into it.

Every actor should obviously read this book.

I think the weakest part of the book, however, is, unfortunately, the majority of it: his descriptions of the acting exercises he came up with (sensory memory, affective memory, song and dance, private moment). How they work, what they should provide the actor, etc. Strasberg’s writing is not, how you say, the warmest of voices, and all of this stuff, when put into words, sounds extremely clinical. You really have to do it to know what the hell it all means, and whether or not it will work for you. It’s hard to write about the process of acting. Two or three sentences in, and you start to sound silly, self-obsessed, and boring. I think much of A Dream of Passion would fall under those categories.

BUT. His introduction!! His introduction takes more of a memoir format, where he describes his childhood, and the unlikely path that led him to a life in the theatre, something he had never imagined for himself. His introduction is magnificent, and I would own the book for this alone. You can keep your chapters on how to run a sense memory exercise. I find those chapters to be insufferable and, actually, barely readable. I’ve done those exercises. I’ve had interesting experiences doing them. I would rather hear from actual actors what they all got out of such exercises than hear a clinical description of what the exercise is, and how to perform it. I always hear Strasberg’s voice in those chapters as coming across in a clipped German accent: “FIRST. You get ze actor into a state of complete relaxation, ja? Zen you have him remember a painful childhood experience. Zen you watch ze tears fall down ze face!”

But read Ellen Burstyn’s book read Carroll Baker’s book, read Eli Wallach’s book, and hear them talk about what they got, personally, out of working with Strasberg, and suddenly it all sounds not only exciting but practical. These people went on to have successful careers.

I have owned A Dream of Passion since I was a teenager, when I first read it. It is not a book I go back to again and again. At least not the how-to chapters. But the introduction is something I reference constantly. His memories of amazing theatrical performances he saw growing up, and the impact said performances had on him, are fantastic. Duse, Ben-Ami, and others. These people blew the top of his head off with their power and sense of reality, their ability to be private in public, to use gesture in a way that illuminated not just character, but THEME. He also writes of the books he read, once he became fascinated by how actors did what they did. He had a clinical mind, as I said. He saw a performance that moved him, and his mind immediately went to questioning it: “WHY was I moved by that? What was it that the actor DID that was so good? Can I quantify it? Can I even describe it?” Sometimes he falls short. He cannot speak of Laurette Taylor in Glass Menagerie with any specificity. All he says is that what she was doing up there didn’t look like acting. And that was what was so extraordinary about it.

Strasberg was relentless in his questioning, in his quest. The Moscow Art Theatre came to New York in the 20s, and had a giant impact on that generation of theatrical thinkers. It changed everything. It led to a revolution, inspiring people whose names we still know today. Strasberg, Stella Adler, Harold Clurman, all of them. But Strasberg, in his research, went further back, as far back as he could go, for contemporaneous descriptions of performances by, say, David Garrick, or Edmund Kean, or Sarah Siddons … These were great talents, whose work can never be seen again. What were they DOING in their great performances? Can Strasberg squint into the past and try to learn from the greats? Was there a way to actually LEARN how to act? Could it be taught? Could an actor be taught how to be consistent, night after night, in a long theatrical run? That was his main obsession. He tells in his introduction of going to see a performance by Giovanni Grasso. He thought it was magnificent and told all of his friends that they had to go see Grasso, so everyone went to check him out, Strasberg included. Strasberg was amazed that Grasso somehow wasn’t “on” that night, the performance lacked the oomph of the first time Strasberg saw him, and Strasberg was embarrassed that he had raved about it so much to his friends who were all unimpressed. What had happened between one night and the next? Why couldn’t Grasso REPEAT what he did with consistency?

(Well, Lee, because he’s a human being and not a robot. But let’s move on.)

Being able to repeat something with accuracy and intensity is one of the most hire-able characteristics any actor can possess. If you are brilliant in an audition, get the part, and then are unable to deliver on the day you shoot your big scene, you will get a bad reputation and no one will want to hire you. You are unreliable. You cannot repeat yourself. If you weep copious tears during your audition, then the client who hires you will expect that you will be able to repeat that during your big close-up. If you cannot, if you agonize, if you hold up production, if you are unable to deliver what you delivered in the audition, say goodbye to any kind of consistent career.

Lee Strasberg was obsessed with consistency and could it be taught. Were there ways to HELP an actor to be able to repeat himself? Certainly there are. Techniques of relaxation and concentration are the bread-and-butter of any regular acting class, and – like an athlete working out every day – like a singer doing scales – like a ballerina at the barre … these things must become rote. When you are in a bit clutch situation (ie: filming a big scene, it’s your closeup, 100s of crew members stand around you), if you can’t deliver … what do you draw on? Clutch situations are notorious for their stress. Stress has an affect on the body. It dries your throat up, it makes your hands tense, it makes you stiff, it affects your vocal instrument, your physical instrument, everything. This is why actors need to know how to relax WHILE under stressful situations. Some people do it naturally. They come to life ONLY in clutch situations. These are the great talents. They always “show up” when it is demanded of them. They live for it. But many actors need to learn techniques. Relaxation is the key. Learn how to relax while surrounded by a jostling movie crew and you can relax anywhere.

Strasberg’s obsession with relaxation and concentration became the focal point of his work. But as I said, so much of this stuff is esoteric and requires you to actually do it. Hearing him describe it is not all that interesting.

But hearing him talk about his early life in the theatre, and his obsessions, his “dream of passion”, is worth it.

Here’s an excerpt from his introduction, where he discusses the work of visionary scenic designer Gordon Craig (son of famous actress Ellen Terry).

Excerpt from A Dream of Passion: The Development of the Method , by Lee Strasberg

The first book I read was Hiram Motherwell’s Theatre of Today. Published in 1914, it was a short summary of what was taking place in the world theatre. Essentially, it focused on Europe, which was the foundation of our own early development. Already twentieth-century theatre was feeling the effects of two visionary stage designers and a director. These new names that already seemed legendary were included in Motherwell’s history: Edward Gordon Craig, the apocalyptic Englishman who was to revolutionize scenic design in the twentieth century, wrote about scenic innovation and illustrated his concepts with his own imaginative sketches; Adolphe Appia, a mysterious figure who revolutionized the concept of stage lighting by calling light an additional actor on stage; and Max Reinhardt, who was equally at home directing a dance pantomime or a massive theatrical spectacle. Other books which I devoured with similar interest were the works of Huntly Carter – The New Spirit in Drama and The Theatre of Max Reinhardt – and books by Sheldon Cheney. Above all, there was the work of Kenneth MacGowan and Robert Edmond Jones, early founders of the Provincetown Players. In Continental Stagecraft they described what they had seen during one year’s travel on the Continent. This opened my eyes to a whole new world.

Since I was never entirely satisfied with secondary material, these readings led me to the original sources.

The writings of the designer Edward Gordon Craig were the most influential in this regard. It would be no exaggeration to say that they became the strongest intellectual stimulus for me to devote my life to the theatre. There has been a great deal of confusion as to the significance of Craig’s work. Craig’s designs for the theatre sought to capture the emotional life of the play and to express that life in abstract forms. Most people still think of him as an impractical visionary who put into words what he could not accomplish on the stage. Despite the fact that he came from a theatrical family – he was the son of the famous English actress Ellen Terry – Craig was always on the periphery of the professional theatre. He made impossible and innovative demands while refusing to compromise his own ideas. It is fashionable to point to the designer Lee Simonson’s criticism of Craig. Simonson analyzed Craig’s sketches and tried to show that they were completely utopian and could never be carried out on stage. However, Craig himself always pointed out that these sketches were imaginary and theoretical.

Many people in the theatre were beginning to make greater aesthetic demands on the medium, but few knew how those demands could take a form on the stage. It was in this area that Craig’s ideas were of enormous significance. It was Craig who in his drawings and manifestos showed that intentions and ideas could be embodied in actual shapes and forms. For him everything in the theatre – the lighting, the setting, the acting – became part of a larger unit that comprised the art of the theatre. For Craig, “scene design” was “stage design” – something in which, on which, and within which the actor would act. “Scene design” must not simply define the background of the play or give an idea of the period in which it takes place. Rather, it must fit the needs of the action of the play, and it must help to motivate and make logical the behavior of the characters.

Craig addressed himself to the issue of acting as well. His concept of the actor was greatly misunderstood then and remains so now. In 1907, he wrote an essay called “The Actor and the Ubermarionette” (Super Marionette). In the essay, Craig demanded that the actor must have the same precision that the marionette possesses. This concept was considered insulting and downgrading to the actor’s art. Even in my first reading of that essay, I never had that impression. The Super Marionette was not intended to replace the actor. On the contrary, the notion of it was to remind the actor that he must possess the precision and skill that the marionette is capable of. In other words, acting should be an art. I have always thought that Craig was right. I had already experienced the control that a great performer was able to exercise over his art in the great opera performances I have mentioned. For me, this demand of Craig’s for responsibility, skill, and excellence became an abiding influence in my own search.

I had always been interested in other arts, but Craig’s essays drew my attention to the way in which one can learn from great painters – Giotto, Goya, and Carpaccio, all of whom have a relevance to theatre. Craig’s work also made me aware of theatrical history as a living experience. Craig himself collected theatre items that most people call “memorabilia”. But for the theatre, they have more significance because they are the fossils of history – the means by which one can reconstruct the theatre of the past.

By opening my eyes to the possibilities of what theatre could and should be, Craig’s work planted the motivation for my ultimately becoming a theatre professional. I was a young amateur when I first read his books; after finishing them,. I wanted to achieve something different in my life.

This entry was posted in Books and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.