♥ davinia hamilton
  • Theatre
  • March31st

    No Comments

     

    This post was inspired by YouTube videos of Patsy Rodenburg and by watching clips of John Barton’s Playing Shakespeare.

     

    I first happened upon acting when I was 10 years old. Of course, I’d always been a performer – I’d been dancing ballet since I was three, singing since I was five, playing the piano since I was six. I’d been in school plays and thoroughly enjoyed them. But despite this streak, I was awkward, shy, insecure. I had all this energy I couldn’t harness, which would come out in bursts – mostly when I was alone in my room, singing into my hairbrush-cum-microphone to an audience of Barbie dolls and teddy bears.

    From my first class, I was hooked. Drama was a turning point in my life. I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but I was applying the techniques I learned in acting class to everyday life. This is the selling point of most drama schools for children today – it is a known fact that drama is a perfect tool for a child’s development. All the brochures will promise you that your children will be more self-controlled, will be better at making friends, will be happier and will do better in school if you send them to acting classes.

    But why? What is it about drama that charms children (and adults!) out of their shells? What happens in those classrooms?

    The answer, in one word: presence.

    There is so much talk about being mindful. Thousands upon thousands of books, blogs and podcasts are available, waxing lyrical about the importance of being mindful. And they are absolutely right. Mindfulness makes for a better, richer life. So what are actors doing right?

    Let’s consider the definition of acting for a second. Well, my own definition in any case. To the layman, acting might just look like learning lines off by heart, getting up on stage and pretending to be that character. Of course, there is some truth in that – that is the skeletal version of the actor’s job. But the flesh, the meat, the tendons – they are what make the difference between an amateur actor (of whom there are, unfortunately, so so so many in this country just looking to make a quick buck) and a good actor. The way I see it, acting is heightened living.

    The actor’s affliction is that while ordinary people go through life reacting to circumstances, actors are self-conscious most of the time. I understand that non-actors will have moments of self-consciousness, but remember the actor’s job is to analyse people in order to be able to assimilate and mirror them. Actors need to be present. All the time.

    Thing is, life makes you passive. It has to. It would suck to go through life dissecting all your reactions before you even express them. How would you know whether your happiness, grief, surprise and so on were genuine or studied?

    And so, acting techniques are there to tilt you back into self-examination; to make sure that you are present in any given space. The beauty of presence is that you can absorb and fully experience everything that happens to you. It is the opposite of passive. To do this, deconstruction is required. Which is why you’ll see actors making funny sounds during their exercises, or acting like farm animals. When we do that, we are not being silly: we are dissecting and studying actions which have become so familiar to us that it is easy to do them passively.

    The first reason why actors are better at life has to do with breathing. Breath: that involuntary process which keeps us alive. We all do it, mostly passively. But actors are taught from day one how to breathe. We are taught to relax our muscles, to breathe into our lungs, to extend our diaphragms. We are taught not to tense our shoulders when we inhale and we are taught to exert control when we exhale, so our voices and our very bodies are supported. This means we do not damage our larynx when we speak, and we can control our volume by projecting, rather than shouting.

    Take that out of the acting context and you’ll understand why everybody stands to benefit from acting lessons. Speech is the primary means of communication. If you can do that well, then you’ll always be understood, and that’s important whether you are an actor, a student, a mother, a business owner or a salesperson.

    Another thing you learn as an actor is how to stand properly. We are taught to find our centre of gravity, to elongate our torso and to make sure our head does not tilt to the side (the Alexander Technique is especially effective when it comes to learning posture). If you are grounded and centred, it is hard to knock you over, but it’s also easy for you to move. Having good posture means you are less likely to suffer from problems with your back.

    If you can learn how to stand and breathe properly, you will already be improving your presence. The trick is to correct your posture and breath whenever you are aware of them.

    Of course, there are many other reasons why actors are better equipped for life:

    Actors work well within a team context. We know that there is a greater good – the play we are working on. It is easy to be a diva and to upstage your colleagues, but the truth is if you do that, you will end up looking like a jerk and the whole project will be a mess. We know our place within the team and we support each other to make sure the end result is the best it can be.

    Yes, and. When you study improvisation, one of the better-known and more effective exercises is the ‘yes, and’ exercise. During improv, you are put on the spot and it is incredible what your brain will come up with under pressure. A lot of the time, you will end up in bizarre situations. You’ll be a couture-loving farmer stranded on an island with a ballerina and a jeweller, trying to catch wild boar for dinner. Typically, your superego will be like, ‘Dude, no’. Thing is, though, that ‘no’ is not conducive to creativity. If your partner asks you whether you would like a bucket filled with sea urchins, instead of laughing it off and saying ‘no’, you are expected to say ‘yes, they’ll make a great weapon against any predators’. Training your brain to always say ‘yes’ means you will be more open to ideas and, consequently, more open minded.

    We are shameless. In the best possible way, of course. It’s encouraged to be child-like when you are acting. We are okay with trying new things and pushing our limits, getting out of our comfort zones, as long as the end result can be positive. We don’t make fun of each other because we’re all in the same boat. When I was at RADA, we had to assign animals to the characters we were playing, which meant we were all crawling around the room as dogs, tigers, seals and so on, speaking Shakespeare. Shameless, but tons of fun.

    We handle criticism well. We actors know that there is always room for improvement and we are fine with our teachers or directors correcting us. Really, we know it’s for our own good. Of course, nobody should tolerate cruelty, but there is a big difference between insulting and criticising somebody.

    We sympathise. Actors need to understand human psychology. The process of characterisation requires that we do not judge our character, but rather try to understand what exactly makes them tick.

     

    Have you ever taken acting classes? Do you think they made you a better person or not?

     

    Share

  • February1st

    5 Comments

    One of the most startling epiphanies or realisations I’ve reached with time is that other people are people too. The older I get, the more profound this concept becomes to me.

    When you’re a child and the world revolves around you, you are programmed to believe – subconsciously, more often than not – that people, their reactions, their words and everything about them, are almost robotic. Being as we cannot read minds, it is actually quite difficult for us to grasp that other people have thought processes and histories and hopes and fears – that their mood may be influenced by the weather or last night’s dreams. Sometimes everything just feels a little scripted.

    And it is reassuring to believe that other people know what to say and do. It’s comforting to view them as things which have been placed in your life for no other reason than for you to react to them. It’s also reassuring to believe that if shit hits the fan, somebody will know what to do.

    One of the moments I realised I was growing up was when I realised my parents are people too. I knew of course that they were young and that they had lives before I came into the world but all that didn’t really apply to me. But realising my parents had thoughts which were inaudible to me, that their lives continued even when they were out of my line of sight… that made me slightly uneasy. It meant they were fallible.

    It’s scary to realise that they’re not the only people who are people. Your teachers were people. Your school principal was a person. If you had told me when I was 13 that the headmistress was a person I would have scoffed. As if! She was stoic and strict and unsympathetic. She was alien – did not understand what we were going through. But one day after I left school I took it upon myself to visit her after she had taken ill and, with sadness in her voice, she told me I was one of the only girls who did. That’s when I knew she was a person.

    Scarier still is the though that people who run our countries are people too. They fuck up sometimes. Ahem, sometimes, they fuck up even more frequently than sometimes. Weird, isn’t it, that our Prime Minister and our Opposition leader may actually have feelings. Strange that Barack Obama might be afraid of some things.  Bizarre that Osama Bin Laden’s mother probably tucked him into bed at night when he was a child.

    Il lato oscuro/The dark side

    One of the most interesting parts about being an actor is the rehearsal process. I do not necessarily belong to one specific school of thought when it comes to the process of getting into character. I tend to agree with David Mamet that the actor’s priority is to learn his lines, almost religiously, because a lot of the work has been done already by the playwright. The script, if you let it, will tell you exactly where to breathe, where to pause, where to raise your voice.

    Still, while I don’t subscribe to the whole ‘be a tree’ way of getting into the Stanislavskian method (simply because I am not a fucking tree, thanks, and while I can stretch my arms out to look like branches and while I can be still, I do not share the memories of a tree, not will I ever be a tree – or ‘fire’, or ‘January’), I do believe the human experience is one which is shared. It is shared by all humans, everywhere, regardless of age, era, race, social background, occupation, sex or sexuality. We are all driven by something, we all hunger for something, none of us are ever truly happy with what we have except in retrospect, we all feel lust and wanting, we all want to belong to something.

    And so I don’t believe any actor can ever do justice to any character if he doesn’t at least try to understand the thoughts behind that character’s actions. Many people say many things but nobody ever says anything for nothing, really, and we are so very much more than words and actions. Our thoughts should define us just as much as our words do – only it’s that much harder as they are private. Experience exists even in silence and introspection. You could have a life-changing moment sitting quietly in your room, contemplating something, without ever uttering a word.

    My character in Osama the Hero is called Louise. The script never gives away her surname, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one. The script gives you the skeleton but it’s the actor’s job to flesh it out and ensure the audience gets a 3-dimensional image – that the audience gets to witness a fully rounded person and not just a sketch, not just words.

    Louise does some pretty fucked up things in the play. Why? The script doesn’t really say. But Louise knows why, and so I should too.

    And if a fictional character deserves that much, just think about how much a real person who is a person deserves. Just think about how that changes everything. The next time you’re in an argument, the next time somebody wrongs you, perhaps you should try to really get into that person’s brain and understand why they do what they do. You just might find comfort in that.

    Things happen and people do things and make mistakes. While it’s not easy or fair to dismiss and justify every action (Hitler was a person, Saddam Hussein was a person, Jim Jones was a person – should we justify their actions too?), you may find it comforting to remember that everybody does and says things for a reason, for a human reason. Whether that reason is valid or not is a whole different kettle of fish, but understanding that people are people (even the people who wrong you) may just be the first step in letting go, making your peace with the situation and moving on with your life.

    Share

  • January25th

    7 Comments

    Osama the Hero

    Posted in: Theatre

    I want to talk a little bit about the play I’ve been rehearsing for the past few weeks. It’s called Osama the Hero, by Dennis Kelly, and it tells the story of a student, Gary, who, when given an assignment about contemporary heroes, decides to speak about Osama Bin Laden, not foreseeing the consequences of that.

    I play Louise, a woman with aspirations who  lives with her brother in a council estate. When garages in the estate start being blown up, the residents immediately place the blame on Gary and decide to take matters into their own hands.

    It’s been a really interesting process because this play gets the audience to empathise with each and every character and shows there is a fine line between terrorist and victim. It’s been really interesting trying to get inside Louise’s head and figuring out why she does what she does. So many times the play forces you to ask yourself ‘does the end justify the means?’.

    It’s a topic that all people who have lived through 911 can relate to. Terrorism has become a buzzword today but how often do we really just stop to consider what the word means exactly?

    The play is being held at St James Cavalier, Valletta, on February 11, 12, 13, 18, 19, 20, 25, 26 and 27 February and you can book here.

    Share

  • January3rd

    7 Comments

    I’ve said this before but I absolutely adore St James Cavalier. There always seems to be something happening there. Last night, Andrew and I managed to get tickets to Dingle Bells, Malcolm Smells, which has been getting some seriously good reviews and has sold out to the extent that one of the performers had to cancel his flights to the UK so there could be extra performances.

    We had to be there a little early to collect our tickets, which we didn’t really mind as, at St James, you can always wander around a little and kill some time or perhaps stay for a coffee.

    In fact, we came across some really interesting prints and I soon remembered St James was hosting an exhibition of works by French artist Guy Peellaert, who is best known for designing some of the most famous album covers in rock history, including David Bowie’s Diamond Dogs. I had wanted to pop by the exhibition for ages, mostly because of stuff like this:

    And this:

    We still had some time to kill before the show started, so we ran around St James a little, taking photos of things. You know, as you do. Ahem.

    Eventually, we got to the theatre.

    Alright, enough photos.

    Dingle Bells, Malcolm Smells is a show put up by three people who have been friends for a long, long time. The three of them are quite successful in their careers, though they have gone their separate ways.

    Chris Dingli left Malta some years ago for London, where he trained at Webber Douglas and where he now works as an actor.

    Malcolm Galea writes plays. Good ones. In fact, his Porn, the Musical made it to the Edinburgh Fringe in 2009, and was performed in London last year.

    Wesley Ellul is, in my opinion, one of the better directors around at the moment. I worked with him on Spring Awakening in 2009 and have watched most of his plays, and don’t remember ever being disappointed.

    Another thing you have to know is that Malta is not a very funny country. We don’t really have a comedy scene. We do a lot of farce and political satire but most of that is not really to my taste (I have to admit I am a bit fussy but I was reared on a comedy diet of people like Eddie Izzard and Bill Hicks and the amazing Monty Python, so you’ll have to forgive me). We don’t have a stand-up comedy scene here at all, and improv is not really taught in our drama schools, which is a shame really as a lot of the good actors here have really good comic timing.

    So I was very excited to learn that the show was going to be mostly improv.

    Improv comedy is one of the best kinds of comedy. It’s raw, things go wrong, which is funny, and you have a lot of audience interaction. Which is something we Maltese like. We’re hecklers by nature, I guess. Also, it means every show is different.

    And Dingle Bells, Malcolm Smells, did integrate a lot of audience interaction, with hilarious results, of course. In yesterday’s show, at one point, a young stripper had to find a way to make money for himself and his poor mother as they lived in a house where the furniture was inside out and the curtains were made of, er, meat.

    The show also includes some songs, including a cover of Stephen Lynch’s Then You Farted, and an original called Irate Pirate. Also hilarious were the charts and graphs presented to us, such as a graph of the amount of laughter expected from us throughout the show.

    I laughed so hard at one point that my eyeliner ended up on my cheek. It’s been a long time since I actually laughed so hard at the theatre.

    Extra shows have been added on January 7 and 8 so I suggest you book your tickets right now before they all sell out again. You can book by clicking here or by calling St James Cavalier on 21223200.

    It’s about time that Malta starts to tap into its comic potential and I hope that once Chris leaves the rock again all this won’t be forgotten. Come on, Maltesers. Let’s give this country the comedy scene it’s needed for a very long time now.

    Share

  • October15th

    No Comments

    *squeal*

    Posted in: Theatre, TV

    Glee does Rocky Horror. Enough said.

    Share

  • August1st

    1 Comment

    I have had a great couple of days which culminated with my cousin’s wedding yesterday. He got married to Maria, who happens to be Joseph Calleja‘s sister. He was at the wedding, of course, as was Riccardo Cocciante, who was in Malta for a concert with Joseph, held last Thursday.

    Long story short, I ended up onstage with Joseph Calleja, Riccardo Cocciante (who has been an idol of mind since I heard his Notre Dame de Paris about 12 years ago) and Ivan Grech, who happens to be my uncle. We sang Crazy Little Thing Called Love, then did improv on Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game.

    Sometimes, my life is freaking awesome.

    Riccardo Cocciante is so down-to-earth and humble. It was really an honour to meet him and to share a song with him. He is an amazing singer and songwriter. His songs are poetry and his performances are so expressive. You can tell he is moved by music and that makes me so happy. His wife is also beautiful and has a fantastic aura about her.

    Joseph Calleja is so very talented. His voice is like honey and he is very friendly and funny! I’m so happy he’s doing well for himself.

    Here’s one of my favourite songs from Notre Dame de Paris, called Bohemienne:

    Share

  • July5th

    No Comments

    I don’t think I’ve mentioned here that I’m taking part in a play right now at Palazzo Parisio, Naxxar, as part of the MADC’s centenary celebrations. We’re doing Shakespeare Revisited, which is a selection of scenes from some of Shakespeare’s best-loved plays – Julius Caesar, Henry V, The Merchant of Venice, Twelfth Night and A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

    We’re a strong cast – with quite a few veterans of Maltese theatre and some young actors, and we all bring something different to Shakespeare.

    I have this huge love affair with Shakespeare – or Sweet Master Will, as one of my University lecturers called him. Three years ago I did an intensive course on Shakespeare at RADA – one of the most prestigious drama schools in the world. While I had always liked the Bard, my time at RADA cultivated this into deep love for his work. The man was a genius. I love the way he uses iambic pentameter in such a way as his verse, while clearly poetry, still has the rhythm and sound of natural speech.

    The tutors at RADA taught us to respect the line breaks and the rhythm – everything else will follow. And it does. Shakespeare wrote down on paper – in the poetry itself – everything the actor needs to know. Shakespeare will show you everything – down to the exact places where the character must breathe. It’s quite amazing.

    Back to  the play, yesterday – opening night – went pretty well. We got very good comments after the show and people seemed to have enjoyed themselves. It’s nice to hear positive feedback after so many weeks of rehearsals.

    If you have a free evening, do come and watch us. You can book tickets by clicking here.

    Share