The Morning After
June 13, 2009
Doing a play is an exercise in Zen Buddhism, I am convinced.
We are about to enter a five show weekend (Friday evening, two shows on Saturday and Sunday), our first since a successful opening (more on what that actually means later). I arrive at the Music Center, a beautiful Lincoln Center-esque complex with three performance spaces including my place of employment, usually in the early evening. I witness the many well-dressed folk, milling about the fountain and food stands, ready to enjoy their evening of entertainment. They are on dates, with family and friends, sipping wine or careful not to smudge their lipstick, but they have all put their obligations behind them. I, on the other hand, am just getting started. (I’ve been sleeping late on this theater schedule, but not that late… I’m talking about alertness, standing at the gate before the gunshot).
Opening night came and went, and the play was well-received. I don’t think I am being arrogant by saying that, because I have my own way of measuring such reception. It would be arrogant (perhaps inhuman) to say I wasn’t nervous, especially upon arrival at my dressing room to see that Mamet himself would be at the show that evening. (It must be weird to sit at your own play with the audience watching your every slightest reaction, as much as they watch what is onstage, no?)
A basic conundrum I face in playing this part in OLEANNA, is that the girl enters the play with a heaping pile of worthlessness in her gut. Yet as an actress, I must go on stage confident that I know the lines and can say them clearly, and maybe trick the audience (and myself) into believing what I am presenting. So on opening night, I could not crawl under the linoleum and make my understudy go on. No, I had to be certain that this was all playing out as it should. I called my Dad, who would love me even if I were on trial for Butchery of a Good Play, and there you have it. The play happened, I did not lose my breath, I did not fall off the stage, or fart loudly, and nobody walked out.
Now we have some 30 performances left, and the fun of it is in taking each one as it comes. Play It as It Lays, so to speak. This is not a movie, so there are no good takes and bad takes, there is only the nightly preparation and focus on the moments as they unfold.
The joy comes in losing yourself in the play each night, the surprise of something new, and in hearing how the audience reacts. Did you know you can actually hear when people are paying attention? You can. Sometimes it is in reactions like a gasp or a louder commentary (“oh no!”), but sometimes it is in mere silence. This is different from the snoring silence of not paying attention, this is the silence of trying to not miss what will happen next.
I went to a Broadway-show-that-shall-remain-nameless and a woman got up after sometime to shout at the actors, “Ninety minutes is up! That’s not Art!” She walked out, cutting her losses (“I have given you my hard-earned money, and I do not accept what you give in return!” This must be the origins of the phrase, “I’m not buying it.”)
As long as that doesn’t happen at OLEANNA, we at the Taper should be fine.
The startling power of an onstage performance is one of the great cultural experiences of human life. The way you talk about your side of it in the given instance is a fine display of authenticity, of being true to the idea of theatre. Good luck with your daily meditation.
“Did you know you can actually hear when people are paying attention? You can. Sometimes it is in reactions like a gasp or a louder commentary (”oh no!”), but sometimes it is in mere silence.”
That’s exactly the same thing that one of my best friends told me once. She’s also an actress and she’s done tv shows, plays…I could say she’s more an stage actress than a Tv actress and she loves that. She always talks about the sensation of happiness that you can feel when you are up in the stage and you notice that people is enjoying your acting.
[...] Over at her blog, actress Julia Stiles offers her thoughts on Opening Night of Oleanna at the Mark Taper Forum. For more Opening Night goodness, check out the video footage from the party and festivities, including some great interviews with the many stars in attendance. David Mamet’s Oleanna plays until July 12 with Julia and Bill Pullman. [...]
I watched the video with the interviews and enjoyed the insight provided by other actors. Curious as to Mr. Mamet’s thoughts or comments…..?
Great to hear that the play is going well. Having been employed as front of house staff and seeing the same show 4 times a day for 7 months, the thing i noticed was that the audience reaction has a real influence over the performance of the actors, the better the audience the better the show.
I just wanted to say my husband and I went to see you last night and enjoyed the play. Being an actress just starting out I have admired you from the beginning and am glad to hear you still put everything you have into your performance after all these years. The rush of joy acting gives is truely a gift.
I saw Oleanna on Friday night and I was in awe of the entire performance. The way lost opportunity lingered between the two characters, slowly losing those moments where more could have been said to change certain outcomes, was brilliant. I loved watching how egos collided to such an explosive finale–which, by the way, blew my mind. The palpable energy coming from the both of you by play’s end was intense. It takes guts and commitment to put forth what you do in Oleanna.
My friend and I talked throughout the night about non-intentional abuse of power and the intent to use it maliciously. I found myself questioning whether I sympathized more with Pullman’s character because, sadly, I may have preconceived notions of power in institutions and gender.
If her intent and execution was more honest I would have waved a, “Team Carol” flag!
Great work!
Julia:
I thought I’d share with you my thoughts on Oleanna, having finally seen it performed live. I came down last Saturday (June 20th) and caught the afternoon matinee, and I was so impressed with how you and Bill made Mamet’s words come alive.
From my experience as an usher, I’ve noticed that in a live setting you can sense the actors feeding off the audience’s reactions and the audience in turn feeding off the inspired performance of the actors. The play itself becomes living creature with two distinct parts, neither of which can survive for long on its own without the other; it either dies or flourishes from the energy generated by each part. I guess you could say that in the case of Oleanna, the play’s an angry creature, one in which the fear, resentment and self loathing of the characters creeps insidiously into the psyche of many audience members, and peels away layers of social conformity repressing fears and prejudices that once revealed (should) make us feel uncomfortable with them. But do we?
My impression of Carol is one of the injured wild animal that lashes out at you even as you try to help it. She cries out to John “Teach me. Teach me”, but then attacks everything he stands for, mocking his own disdain for his profession and throwing his words – selectively interpreted – back at him. There’s probably someone like Carol in all our lives. And yet, late in the first part, Carol in a moment of vulnerability comes tantalizingly close to disclosing to John the danger of getting too close to her, of trying too hard to help her. Just one tragically missed opportunity to avert catastrophe in a play chock full of ‘em.
It was fascinating to feel the audience’s collective frustration with the characters’ penchant for constantly interrupting each another. A couple of times I almost expected an audience member to blurt out “Shut the fuck up and let ___ speak!” (Watching the film version first before being exposed to the script, I almost yelled that at the screen myself!) It was also fascinating to listen to the change in audience members’ reactions in each part, from humour to intense silence to audible gasps of shock and dismay. John asks near the beginning “What don’t you understand?” (of his book), to which Carol says “Any of it”. The audience giggles, snorts and guffaws, probably reminded of every textbook they’ve ever tried to decipher. Silence more than anything else pervades the second part, but throughout the third you can sense a palpable tension building as Carol ratchets up the stakes against John and he slowly unravels. Finally, involuntary gasps mark John’s violent eruption, particularly when he raises the chair above a frightened Carol. It’s like watching a plane crash in slow motion: you can yell “pull up! pull up!” all you want but it won’t prevent the tragedy that’s unfolding before your eyes.
Personally, I felt my heart racing and my adrenaline rushing throughout part three, even though I’d read the play and watched the film version several times before. After watching you perform it live, I thought I’d finally exorcised the almost involuntary reactions it produces, but no. I read it again last night and I got that same adrenaline rush. It can be addictive: I can hardly imagine what it’s like for the actor, but at least I have a better idea why you’d want to take on such a project again. Mamet’s use of language in Oleanna displays a kind of demented genius: as an ex-girlfriend would say, he really fucks with your head!
The stage design was wonderful in its simplicity, noisy blinds notwithstanding. Stage floors often seem to be set so high as to separate the audience from the actors onstage, but the Oleanna set felt open and approachable, as if an audience member could just walk right up, sit down at the table and start a conversation with Carol and John. The small stage and the intimate size of the theatre combined to give the impression of eavesdropping on an unfolding tragedy. John and Carol’s verbal entanglement feels that much more uncomfortable when it’s so close you can almost reach out and touch the characters. Considering the sensitive subject matter and audiences’ intensely visceral reactions, I think the staging is at once risky and incredibly bold.
There were a few reality checks, credit card bill aside. First, dipshit me left his camera on the plane when he got home, and I have no record of the trip, save for the Oleanna program and ticket stub. Second, and more importantly, I was reminded of the tough times we are in on the way back to LAX. I took the blue Metro line south, and a 50-ish Latino fellow stood at one end of the car explaining his recent unemployment and its effect on his family. He said to his captive audience, “I will not steal, but I will not let my family starve.” He seemed very proud and it looked like it was the hardest thing in the world for him to beg. After repeating himself in Spanish (I guess because I only know a handful of words in Spanish), people quietly handed him $1 bills. The dollar I gave him I probably would have spent on a chocolate bar, anyway, so I’m sure it went to good use. I have a feeling though his predicament is just the tip of a very big iceberg. Sorry for the reality check, but it was an honest observation.
And yet the world still needs art! Best of luck with this production of Oleanna, and especially when you take it to Broadway. You and Bill were fantastic. Thank you.
Reality checks are always appreciated! I feel so fortunate to set foot on that stage, and call it my job.
I asked a question at the Sunday matinee After Show gathering, and I wondered what your perception is. Do woman seem to have a markedly different reaction to the play from men? If so, are they more or less supportive of Carol’s character?
Carol is definitely not a character I could warm up to, yet she is one you have decided to go back and play for a 2nd time. Just curious about what your take on the character is. Why are you attracted to playing this role?
Both you and Bill did a super job in the play. My wife and I were talking about it all evening, and into this morning.
First, thank you so much, I am glad you and your wife enjoyed it.
I think women get very angry, maybe more so than men. I can only guess it’s because they feel misrepresented or misunderstood. I try not to think that I am getting up there to represent all women, but I guess the personal inevitably becomes political.
As for my attraction to the role, it might be more an attraction to the play overall. I think Bill said it best in a recent interview he did for the NY Times:
“I’m not the first one to say it, but that time onstage is a heightened sense of present tense,” Mr. Pullman said. “There’s a point you get to on the stage where you’re not remembering lines but living them, and you reach this pure moment which, really, is more intense than what you can achieve in life.”
Once the lights go up, the play really takes over. Not all plays have the power to sustain the actors interest for a long run, but I find every night is new and every night is deeper. Mamet’s dialogue also forces the actors to listen to each other, so you have to get out of your own head.
It certainly is challenging to play a character the audience openly dislikes, but I kind of love that. A lot of Mamet’s characters (I’m thinking of Richard Roma, in particular, from Glengarry Glenross) are unabashedly irksome to an audience, but also fascinating because they are incredibly honest. They aren’t hiding their flaws, and aren’t concerned with being popular. There are a few things I’ve come to like about Carol-she becomes shockingly direct and demands that kind of precision from her teacher. Even down to the last few lines, she has some cojones. Of course, she is incredibly flawed; at best she is irritating and self-righteous, at worst she is vindictive. That kind of layered, complicated, and threatening female character is incredibly rare.
Your judgment of Carol seems fair. Although you don’t make this association explicitly, it’s perhaps unavoidable that “irksome” and “incredible honesty” are often linked. Honesty takes many different forms, from Lester Burnham in American Beauty and Tyler Durden in Fight Club to even Socrates. They were all incredibly honest in really different ways and clearly they all irked some people. As for the complicated, threatening female roles, those are unfortunately rare, but terrific ones that come to my mind are Glenn Close’s character in Dangerous Liaisons and Linda Fiorentino’s in The Last Seduction, which also had Bill Pullman as an excellent counterweight. In that company, it’s easy to look more favorably at Carol.
I like the way Mister Pullman describes how it is like to be on stage. Particularly the part of not remembering lines but living them.
I play modern folk music and jazz. When performing, you have a moment where you are lifted from earth, you don’t remember where you are, you’re just busy playing music. You don’t remember the notes, you’re singing the melody in your head. It’s funny when you stop playing and you get applause. In an immediate way you’re back to reality. If you would ask me to repeat a piece exactly as I played it before, it would be impossible for me. I just can’t remember what I’ve played. Ofcourse I remember the melody, but I’ve forgotten all the variations and improvisations.It just comes at the moment. That’s for me the special thing of performing music or a play. In a way you are meditating or as Miss Stiles said “an exercise in Zen Buddhism.
P.S.: Sorry for the bad English
Saw Oleanna last night with three friends and all of us were very pleased that we saw the show before it closed.
If the definition of a successful show is the ability to enthrall an audience, pull them into the situation, make them emotional about it and give them the ability to make a judgement, then Oleanna is quite a success in my book. My friends and I spent some time talking about how we felt about it for a few hours after the play.
It is amazing that both of you can pull this off every single night. In certain points of the play, it is very intense and looks like both of you have to give your all to bring out the emotions of the scene.
On another note… we were all kind wondering… how does that chair not fall of the stage? Was that through a lot of practice?
We were all very impressed with the play. Congratulations
Assuming this won’t get published, this is to thank Julia for her performances over the years and a special appreciation of her in the first half of the decade. My late wife was battling cancer from April 1999 till November 11, 2001. I was taking care of her and my daughter during that time. “Down to You” came out in early 2000, and it was a nice escape for 90 minutes for me for its first couple weeks. Julia was new to me then, a real breath of fresh air in the character, and a cross between an old girlfriend and my teenage daughter. I became a fan.
When we got the tickets for Oleanna, I was excited. The play was well done, saying hi afterward was a special treat, and trying to find the right words for a “reply” here was a bit of a challenge. When I finally had, it was nice, till a few days later when it was removed. Julia’s written response was insightful, so it was a surprise to see that removed as well.
In any event, continued success to you, and I’ll leave this as my last “reply.” Best wishes and Happy 4th of July.
Dear Ms. Stiles,
My wife and I came to see you and Mr Pullman perform on Friday evening (the one where some rude fellow-patron exclaimed “Get over it !” midway through one of Carol’s diatribes).
We greatly enjoyed the energy of the performance. Your portrayals and performances were simply outstanding. I can’t help but feeling that this play must take a mental toll on both of you, but especially the actor interpreting the role of Carol. Frankly, I was glad of the hour drive home to decompress. I can not imagine what consistent performance of this over time does to the pysche of a person who commits fully in the role.
As a University Professor, I found myself cringing at the many faux pas’ the characters make. For better or worse, the era of political and social correctness is upon us. By the end of the play I felt deep remorse and empathy for both characters. The play really seemed like a modern day tragedy.
I wrote not only to applaud your respective performances, but to ask a question. What do you think it was that Carol was trying so desperately to tell her professor while sitting on the bench during act I when he was ‘saved’ ? by the bell of that infernal phone ?
Thank you again for an outstanding and memorable performance. My wife and I feel you are immensely talented and are unlikely ever to go hungry.
Sincerely,
Grant MacGregor
I wish I could have seen the play. the clips on youtube look very interesting