Beginning Again With Meisner Technique
This week marks the start of my classes in the acting conservatory program at The Neighborhood Playhouse. I listened to my gut, making the impulsive decision to move to NYC and enroll full-time after attending the school's Summer Intensive, my participation in which was, itself, the result of a vague impulse. The only thing I knew before applying was that the best actors I'd worked with up to that point, the most dedicated in rehearsal and the most consistent on stage, all had some sort of foundation in Meisner Technique. So as I commit to this new chapter in my life, I wanted to share some thoughts on this approach, how it's affected me already, and where I hope it may lead in the future.
The Repetition Exercise
Acting is doing.
-Sanford Meisner
The foundation of Meisner Technique is a seemingly simple exercise in repetition. It consists of two actors attempting to make contact with each other, fully and authentically. This ideal of authentic interaction, or "behaving truthfully," necessitates establishing common ground, so the earliest version of repetition typically begins with stated observations of concrete fact.[1] The actors are instructed not to do anything until something makes them do it. This is what Meisner referred to as a "pinch," which results (unless the pinched actor suppresses their reaction) in an "ouch." It's always difficult to begin because the actors participating in the exercise know that it involves saying things,[2] but most people are taught (necessarily) to limit what they say to others. Discomfort often arises in those first silent interactions between two people, and this discomfort is magnified by the attention of everyone else in the room. And, of course, to someone new to these terms, it can be hard to know exactly what constitutes a "pinch." It's a bit tricky to explain, but in my (admittedly limited) experience so far, it seems to be the difference between looking for an observation to voice and being struck by an observation that creates a momentary impulse to make note of it. One notes what is notable, and things are notable when they surprise in some way.
Once the repetition begins, it's like a game of catch, and the actors throw the ball back and forth. The exercise compels them to pay attention. It trains their eyes and ears, gets them to listen beyond and see behind words, to recognize subtleties of tone and body language. After it begins, the exercise can change in any number of ways (too many to mention), and how it changes is not always clear. All that's clear is whether a change works, i.e. whether that change was necessary. If a change is not necessary it undermines the truth that the exchange is built on. When this happens, the instructor asks the actors to end the exchange and start again.
The repetition exercise is only seemingly simple because, while the basic rules are clear, it evolves over time, making room for more subjective expressions of an actor's point of view, introducing complicating elements such as independent activities and coming-to-the-door. The exercise begins simply in order to emphasize the primary importance of connection for truthful acting. This is true whether that acting takes place on stage or on camera, with a partner who is present or one who is imagined.
A Path to Self-discovery
One of the biggest reasons Meisner's Technique still persists as a predominant form of acting training after nearly a century is that the exercises he made a career of teaching are potent tools for discovering the core of one's unique, individual self. Here are a few things I learned about myself after just six weeks of Meisner classes this summer:
- There is a name for many of my struggles (ADHD), and my efforts to appear "normal" by masking those struggles cost me many years of pain and time wasted, creating tension in my body and runaway anxieties in my mind.
- It is not wrong for people (especially artists) to feel deeply and to express those feelings fully under imaginary circumstances. Rather, repeatedly repressing ones feelings is a sort of self-negation that leads to a sense of listless purposelessness and habitual self-doubt.
- My imagination powerfully influences my behavior, enough to change my reality, in a way. By imagining urgency, for example, I can increase the intensity of my focus on a particular task. In the face of anxious thoughts, I can try to imagine their opposites.
- If I want to really connect with people, it's not enough to listen passively. I have to engage, to respond, to let them know they're heard.
I intend to learn even more about myself during my time in the conservatory program. In fact, I'm counting on it. This promise of self-discovery is what brings young actors to The Neighborhood Playhouse from around the world.[3] They come to explore, to stretch boundaries and forget ingrained narratives about their lives in a constructive environment. They come to live through uncomfortable feelings that are real but more or less disallowed in everyday life, to take those feelings in and let them out instead of pushing them down or turning away from them. There's no doubt that this can help students become better actors, but it does so by helping them become more interesting and imaginative people.
Many actors know at least this much about Meisner Technique, and a few stop themselves from exploring it because they feel silly repeating "blue shirt" or some such detail. But this is sort of like stopping piano lessons because playing the C major scale doesn't amount to music. ↩︎
This "saying" doesn't necessarily involve words. Behavior communicates too, and in Meisner's old classroom hangs the framed message: "An ounce of behavior is worth a pound of words." ↩︎
I have shared classes with students from China, Germany, Greece, Italy, and Spain. ↩︎