11 No Place To Hide

“… many actors are shy but acting gives them a way of hiding in plain sight” (13) Caroline Goyder Following close on the heels of est came The Mastery, where I got my own taste of acting, and a taste of my own medicine. The Mastery in its present day iteration is called The Mastery of Self Expression, but back then it was simply called The Mastery. The workshop had come out of The Actors’ Institute of New York, however, it was not designed to be primarily for actors, but for everyone. Some of the acolytes from the est training told me that, as I was a drama director, this was something that I simply could not pass up. And then they let drop that it culminated in the delivery of a two minute monologue before the entire group of, maybe, over a hundred. What? This was definitely outside my comfort zone, but, they were soon proved right. Despite the heavy fee, this was a challenge I could not turn down.  At first I found it hard to comprehend that they would treat professional actors and civilians from other walks of life, in exactly the same way. But  that is exactly what they did, and I quickly came to see that this was the genius of the system. The problems experienced by actors are at base no different from those we all experience in trying to connect and communicate in the course of our everyday lives. We are all human and, perhaps, to some extent, we are all actors. Slowly and painfully The Mastery brought to the fore the paradox that we all desperately want to be seen and we are all desperately scared of the prospect.  The founder, Dan Fauci, on his website expresses it this way: “The Mastery is not about acting technique — you still have to learn your craft. But it's about a quality of presence — the ability to risk being authentically who you are in the presence of an audience. It's about taking that fear, putting a bridle on it and riding it — using the permission of a good relationship with yourself in the presence of others.” We gathered in a large old church owned by Lynn Redgrave. There were secretaries and housewives, businessmen and academics, journalists, musicians, a radio DJ, and, of course, self-help junkies, and many actors and would-be actors. In this workshop there was nowhere to hide. Giving information about ourselves was treated as an exercise in personal communication. You were no more allowed to hide behind your own personality quirks and limitations than the actor was allowed to hide behind his characterisation in performance. An authentic presence was all; but being just the way you are is not quite the same as being authentic. My father was a war hero with military control over any expression of anger or depression — and I grew up along the same lines. Whereas the centre-piece of the est training had been The Fear Process, the centrepiece of The Mastery was The Anger Process. In this one half of the participants were lined up behind the other and roughly matched for weight and build. Those behind were given the task of restraining those in front by their belt or with a rope while they kept up a continual assault of air punches and kicks. The trainers and assistants would then come along and bellow the most cutting and crude personal insults at each and everyone of us in turn. No half-measures were allowed. After a few minutes it was as if Bedlam had been let loose, and this went on and on and on, until, one by one, we all collapsed in exhaustion. (Some months later, standing on a street corner, I discovered that I had been badly let down by an acquaintance and, to my own surprise, became justifiably angry. As I stormed away I could not help smiling to myself — The Anger Process had worked.) The Mastery set out to take our habitual acts apart and find the real person beneath. It looked at us as a whole, not just the parts that we wished to be seen. All our excuses, our justifications, our rackets were stripped away. There were no get-out clauses. One slightly plump, middle-aged actress used to playing mumsie roles was assigned the task for the following day to come dressed in the most sexy and provocative garb she could muster and then flirt with any and every male whom she found attractive. Boy, did she have fun! Conversely, a very self-demeaning young man full of false humility was given the task of emphasising those very qualities and acting as everyone-else’s lackey.  Finally the moment came for me to put myself on the line, go out onto the stage alone and deliver my monologue. With considerable fascination I had watched quite a number of the other participants go on stage before me and gradually be coaxed to come alive, to drop their act, to take on their natural charisma. Over and over again they were brought to deliver their piece directly to the audience, as if to one person, to one person after another, and to actually look and see the effect that their words and their emotion had, rather than just being blinded by fear. No-one at this stage cared about the interpretation of the piece, only the communication.  When I was called up my legs were shaking so much I could hardly stand — or that is how it seemed to me. Later, when I discovered that no-one had noticed this, I was genuinely surprised. To smile and be charming in tense situations came naturally to me, but I was soon stripped of all that. To be direct and passionate and not hide behind smooth talk and irony was my task. After the two minute solo had been worked over and presented by me for a second time, the audience were each tasked to write a review. Those hundred-odd bits of paper I would keep wrapped up in a drawer for many years to come. I had told everyone that I had no desire to be an actor, but, it was clear from the written comments that many had just not believed me. I was urged to take my courage in my hands and “Go for it!” I could tell that for them nothing could better success as an actor; but I had crossed the burning coals of my fire-walk, and had no intention of ever doing it again.

Reference: 13. Goyder, Caroline, The Star Qualities: how to sparkle with confidence in all aspects of your life, Sidgwick & Jackson, London 2009