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Bob Fraser has a great review of a somewhat unsung book by David Mamet called True And False:

. . . I saw A Life In The Theatre [by Mamet] and I became a fan. To me, it was the first play about acting that really got to the heart of the actor's life and problems. It was obviously written by someone who had a great love of acting and actors. It was a revelation ... I have watched Mamet's writing and directing career ever since ... In the fullness of time, I have no doubt that his influence will be considered crucial to the development of modern acting and story-telling.

His book, True and False, is the finest book I've read about acting since I first read Stanislavsky's trilogy (a must for every actor).

Mamet cuts right to the chase in this amazing book. It is not a tome, but rather a short, blunt treatise on the craft of acting – that I cannot recommend too highly.

Before you run out and get a copy though, I have a caveat: This is not a book for the beginning actor. Until you've spent some time on the boards, plying your craft, much of what Mamet says might be confusing and perhaps even misleading. The reason is simple; The book was written for the employed actor, who is looking for a useable method to build and sustain a performance in a professional setting.

Spencer Tracy, arguably one of the finest actors ever, is famously quoted as say about acting … "Just say the gags and don't bump into the furniture." This is a bon mot that has been repeated around green rooms and holding areas since Pluto was a pup, but few actors understand the import of it.

Mamet sets out to explain exactly what Tracy was talking about (although he never mentions the quote) in a well thought out, brilliantly written, cogent argument.

Laurence Olivier once said it took him twenty years to learn how to be simple. Again, this is an important bit of information for the actor who strives for believability and "realness." And again, Mamet's book goes a long way toward educating us about the exact meaning of Olivier's remark. (Bob Fraser on David Mamet's True And False)

Anton Chekhov's The Seagull is a modern masterpiece. Short of seeing a great production, the best way to experience this beautiful play is to simply read it, as I did:

For Chekhov, traditionally a short story writer, The Seagull was his first full length dramatic work. Chekhov struggled with the dramatic form, and this beautifully naturalistic play does suffer from what one might expect from a writer traditionally well practiced in a short story narrative form: surprisingly large parts of the play are episodic and descriptive of the action and events.

What makes this a play are the main actions involving Nina, Konstantin, Trigorin, and Irina, with the two main characters being Nina and Konstantin - and who's story is it? Almost all the way through the play, through the 3rd act, it's a tossup, but given Chekhov's choice to narrate the critical turning point in Nina's and Trigorin's relationship, this is Konstantin's story, and he changes the most - literally going from life to death.

So what is the play about?

The best way to answer this question is to keep the answer short, 1 or 2 sentences, and tell it in a way that draws a person in, makes them want to know more. If you can do that, then you've understood a play. So here's my understanding of The Seagull: it is a play about people who are so pre-occupied (with themselves, with what they want, with what they don't have) that they can't seem to listen, empathize, or even begin to understand anyone else - until (presumably) one of them dies.

Elaboration:

The Seagull is almost totally character driven: the play lacks a strong plot, so much so that people accuse it have not having any "action." It's actually all action, but because a character's objectives are rarely achieved, the play has the feeling of "going nowhere" - on purpose (i.e., the characters feel they're going nowhere). The life of the play is in its microstructure, i.e., the dialog - each "beat" is (more or less) people wanting, pursuing objectives, and not listening, seeing, or connecting with anyone else, and - interestingly enough - failing to get what they want.

Almost all the characters have a sense of helplessness because they attribute their obstacles to forces or factors beyond their control, and because they feel they can never have what they so desperately want, they get (understandably) highly pre-occupied with their troubles - but then they fail, fail absolutely, to put all that aside when there's an opportunity to simply listen, take in, and understand someone else. Interestingly, why these characters are like this is completely unmotivated in the text: Chekhov provides no "psychological" explanation for their basic stance - but this is clearly who they are.

What the characters want, in the main, especially Nina and Konstantin, is fame and love (respectively). This is how they love: Irina & Nina love Trigorin while Konstantin loves Nina while Masha loves Konstantin and no one's love is reciprocated. Further, Konstantin wants to be an artist (a writer) and Nina wants to be an actress. Because the characters are so obsessively pre-occupied with what they don't have, to the exclusion of all else, to the exclusion of listening/connecting with others, by the time we meet them, their lives seem to have ground to a halt.

The world of characters in a play can be put into sharp relief by imagining what would happen if they choose differently, i.e., imagining what would happen if they choose instead to listen, to see, to attempt to understand one another: it would be a play about people helping each other achieve their dreams, perhaps by helping each other challenge their own perceptions.

The fact that they do not do this is what Chekhov was, in a sense, parodying. For example, Nina wants to be an actress (partly for not the best of reasons, i.e., fame), and in addition to being in love with Trigorin, she (a young girl) looks to him (a mature older man) for encouragement, guidance, and she's hidden none of this from Trigorin. She finally tells Trigorin:

Boris Alekseevich, I've finally decided, the die is cast, I'm going on the stage. By tomorrow, I'll be gone ... I'm starting a new life ... I'm going away, like you, to Moscow. We shall see each other there.

Trigorin is burned out. One almost gets the sense that this could be an opportunity to reinvigorate his own passion by helping/encouraging someone else to follow theirs. Instead - he takes advantage of Nina.

Trigirin only hears that's she's going to Moscow. He doesn't at all respond to the fact that she's just announced that she's taking a big chance with her life. He's completely oblivious to Nina's central concerns - with tragic results. Of course, Nina could be smarter - they could all be smarter - they could even go further and help challenge each other's myopia, mis-conceptions, and self-defeating behavior . . .

But of course, they don't -- it wouldn't be The Seagull if they did.

Production Challenges:

The main challenge is keeping these characters likeable -- because they are (for the most part) likable. While they're probably & understandably depressed, we never see them give into it. They struggle mightily, and they are strikingly, humanly rendered.

Chekhov's mastery of everyday, natural dialog is the real power and life of his work. These people are real, and there's great beauty in them. None of the characters are intentionally cruel - it's as if they can't help themselves; they don't really understand themselves. I root for these characters, willing them to "wake up," to choose differently, anything to avoid what it's probably going to take - a gunshot at the end of the play.

For the actor, there's a tendency to over-analyze the characters because they are so human, complex, real. However, the characters are simply pursuing, with each beat, simple objectives. We don't really have to "understand" these characters in some Freudian sense - we just have to see them, their actions, and their choices. Actors pursuing some carefully chosen, simple objectives will drive the plot, and with Chekhov's language, the audience will readily perceive all the richness, texture, and complexity in this beautiful play.

(Originally published on "Helium").

A great question to ask is: what killed Polonius?

Characters in plays are critically defined by one thing, what William Ball in a Sense of Direction calls the 'golden key' for actors: characters are defined by what they want all else follows.

Hamlet, when you come down to it, is a play about discovering the truth. This is almost every character's goal: it is what they spend a good part of their time doing. While they all have different ultimate objectives, they all seek out the truth as a means of archiving these ultimate objectives:

1) Claudius wants to know the truth behind Hamlet's recent strange behavior (because he fears Hamlet might have discovered his murder).
2) Gertrude and Ophelia want to know the truth about Hamlet's behavior (because they're concerned and want to help).
3) Hamlet wants to know the truth about Claudius (because he needs to be certain of Claudius' guilt before he can kill the King.)
4) Finally, Polonius wants to know the truth behind Hamlet's recent behavior in fact, he's almost desperate to find out . . . we'll get to the why in a moment.

'Ultimate objective', what the character wants, William Ball's 'golden key' this is where the actor first looks to find the heart and soul of a character. When preparing for a role, an actor can sometimes find insight into his character by understanding the wants of a character opposite of his. In "Hamlet", it's Polonius and Hamlet that makes the most interesting study in contrasts. Comparing Polonius with Hamlet helps draw out what is unique about Polonius:

Polonius and Hamlet are like night and day.

What is Polonius' ultimate objective? It's not easy to answer. However, a careful analysis of how Polonius goes about attempting to discover the truth (or in actor-speak, how he goes about "pursuing his main action") provides critical insight into his character, especially when comparing his main action with Hamlet's.

Around the time that Hamlet sees the ghost, Polonius has asked Ophelia to reject Hamlet's recent advances because he thinks Hamlet is trifling with her feelings. Hamlet then confronts Ophelia. His behavior alarms both her and Polonius. Polonius now fears that the rejection drove Hamlet mad. To Claudius and Gertrude, Polonius announces:

your noble son is mad:
Mad call I it; for, to define true madness,
What is't but to be nothing else but mad? (Polonius, 2.2).

Note that Polonius is not sure what "it" is, but whatever "it" is, Polonius is sure Hamlet has "it."

Hamlet, on the other hand, believes that Claudius may be guilty of fratricide, but this belief is only coming from the word of a . . . ghost.

They both have a problem: they have no proof, no hard evidence, to support their hypotheses. Both Polonius' and Hamlet's main action through most of the play is to acquire some sort of convincing support.

When one wants to find support for one's hypothesis, the thing to do is design a test, an experiment, if you will, where either the outcome of the experiment will provide support for the hypothesis or it will not. This is how scientists and researchers test their ideas. In this way, either one moves towards accepting the hypothesis or one moves towards dropping it.

This 'testing' sounds straightforward, even easy but it's not. This is where Polonius and Hamlet differ, and interestingly enough, this is where most of us resemble Polonius. Polonius seeks to CONFIRM his hypothesis; Hamlet seeks to TEST his.

What Shakespeare has amazingly dramatized in Polonius is a behavior that 21st century researchers call confirmation bias, a type of selective thinking whereby one tends to look for what confirms one's belief and to ignore or undervalue the relevance of what contradicts that belief.

A demonstration of this bias is the Wason Card Problem. Assume you have four cards lying on a table. You see each face printed with the following letters and numbers:

| A | | B | | 4 | | 7 |

There is also a letter or a number on the other side.

Now, imagine your hypothesis is: if a card has a vowel on one side, then it must have an even number on the other side. What cards or card would you turn over to 'test' this hypothesis? Decide now.

Most people turn over cards A and 4 presumably thinking, "I must turn over A to see if there is an even number and I must turn over the 4 to see if there is a vowel." However, if this were the case, would you believe your hypothesis?

In actual experiments, researchers have indeed put an even number on the other side of A and a vowel on the other side of 4. However, researchers always put a vowel on the other side of the 7 card making the hypothesis false. Only about 5% of us ever turn over the 7 card. This is because we seek to 'confirm' our hypothesis. Turning over the 7 card is a test to 'disconfirm' our hypothesis. If you turn over the A and 4 cards, you'll think you're right if you turn over the 7 card, you'll know you're wrong.

So how does Polonius attempt to find where truth is hid (Polonius, 2.2)? He confronts Hamlet and attempts by indirections, find directions out (Polonius, 2.1). In other words, he asks indirect questions looking for evidence that Hamlet is mad. What follows in 2.2 is a delicate and clever scene between Hamlet and Polonius where Hamlet does not come off 'crazy' rather he comes off as cleverly keeping Polonius off balance (presumably because he does not want to give anything away to the Claudius' closest adviser). However, while Polonius does seem to sense though this be madness, yet there is method in t. (Polonius, 2.2), the bizarre conversation 'confirms' Polonius' belief that Hamlet is mad. He has found Hamlet's "directions."

Contrast this with one of Hamlet's first reactions to the ghost. Hamlet entertains the possibly that he is wrong about Claudius:

The spirit that I have seen
May be the devil: and the devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape yea, and perhaps
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with such spirits,
Abuses me to damn me. (Hamlet, 2.2).

Polonius, on the other hand, further seeks to confirm his hypothesis by spying on Hamlet & Ophelia:

. . . I'll loose my daughter to him:
Be you [Claudius] and I behind an arras then;
Mark the encounter: if he love her not
And be not from his reason fall'n thereon,
Let me be no assistant for a state,
But keep a farm and carters. (Polonius, 2.2).

This is critical: much is at stake for Polonius. For Hamlet the stakes are clear: if he is wrong about Claudius, he kills an innocent man. For Polonius, it's almost as if it's his sense of self worth is at stake (at least in his role as assistant for a state) -- but there's no indication anywhere else in the play that anyone else perceives it this ways.

Contrary to Polonius's expectations, the exchange between Hamlet and Ophelia is enough to convince Claudius that:

Love! his affections do not that way tend;
Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little,
Was not like madness. (Claudius, 3.1).

And Polonius' response?

but yet do I believe
The origin and commencement of his grief
Sprung from neglected love. (Polonius, 3.1).

Compare this with Hamlet.

He does not to try to confirm his belief. Instead, remarkably, Shakespeare dramatizes the modern scientific method: he has Hamlet devise a test that will either support or contradict his hypothesis. Hamlet decides to stage a play that dramatizes a man who murders his brother, a king. Hamlet's 15th century logic was that a guilty conscience would give itself away if presented with a dramatization of its crime (i.e., if the King reacts he supports the ghost's claim. If he doesn't, then Hamlet reasons the spirit that I have seen may be the devil. In short, Hamlet devised 'The Mousetrap':

the play 's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. (Hamlet, 2.2).

And catch a King he does, setting the stage for the final confrontation with Claudius.

Hamlet wanted 'the truth' and he achieved that objective.

And Polonius? After the exchange between Hamlet and Ophelia, Polonius doesn't reject his hypothesis, he fatally decides have Gertrude talk to Hamlet while he hides and listens - more indirections to find directions out, his last -- and final action.

Had Polonius only dropped his hypothesis after the exchange between Hamlet and Ophelia; had he for a moment seriously considered that he was wrong; had he only found and entertained an alternate hypothesis and devised some way to test between his hypotheses . . .

But of course, he didn't. He wouldn't be "Polonius" if he had.

So what killed Polonius? The thing Polonius most wanted in life:

. . . to be right.

(Originally published on "Helium").

Ah, how to understand Shakespeare . . .

The sheer magnitude and dramatic measure of Shakespeare is never to be missed -- and while you want to use an excellent source, like the original Folio The Tragedie of Hamlet, Prince of Denmarke published by Applause in 2001, it can be a challenge tackling the linguistics of sixteenth century English.

For those (like me) who need a leg up, the Durband (Editor) additions of Shakespeare's work are an invaluable help. For the ambitious reader, an additional resource in cracking the code of 16th century grammar comes in the form of Adamson, Hunter, Magnusson, Thomposon, & Wales's Reading Shakespeare's Dramatic Language, A guide. Finally, an invaluable guild to understanding not only Shakespeare but also any dramatic structure comes from David Ball's Backwards and Forwards, A Technical Manual for Reading Plays. With all these resources firmly in hand, I chased Shakespeare, and managed, in some sense, to tackle Hamlet, the first Shakespeare play I had ever read . . .

Much has been written about the supposed "psychology" of Shakespeare's characters as an explanation for who they are. This is not much help in understanding Shakespeare or what he really did. Shakespeare wrote plays. He didn't create real people, so it's a mistake to try to analyze or understand them from some psychological or post-modern analytical perspective. What Shakespeare did was create stories that "reveal" who we are:

The characters don't exist for us to understand them - they exist to help us understand ourselves.

So who is Hamlet, or any other character? Who they are is really no more than 1) what they want, 2) the action they take in attempting to get what they want, 3) what happens next, and 4) how they react . . . cause and effect, action and reaction - it's the best way, really, to understand this beautiful play, and by way of that, to understand ourselves, what we are in the universe.

There is speculation that in 1611 Shakespeare helped revise the bible into what is now known as the King James Version. In its front, there's an inscription: appointed to be spoken aloud,' as if the human breath is needed to carry the Spirit of God.

I can't speak to this claim or this type of spirituality, but I do know that Shakespeare is Life as Living Poetry playing out in a structured universe. That's all you really need to know - intellectually. If you want to know the characters personally, you must give them voice, lend them your deepest breath (& I hope you will). The moment-by-moment experience structured by who they are is the living Poetry of Shakespeare. Of course Shakespeare resonates with us - it IS us.

So let us begin.

THE TRAGEDIE OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARKE

What is the play about? The best way to answer this question is to keep the answer short, 1 or 2 sentences, and tell it in a way that draws a person in, makes them want to know more. If you can do that, then you've understood a play. So here's my understanding of Hamlet:

Hamlet is a play about a son who pretends to lose his mind while attempting to avenge the perfect murder of his father and he loses his own life in the process.

This isn't poetic, but it does capture the basic main plot line, and it underscores the tragic nature of Hamlet. The murder of Hamlet's father is perfect: it's takes a supernatural event to uncover the murder, i.e., the ghost of his father has to tell Hamlet what happened. These are the two main events that drive the plot: the murder is perfect, and Hamlet chooses to take up the task of avenging his father with not one shred-not one bit-of evidence that Claudius killed King Hamlet.

And this is just how the play reads, how it looks to the audience: If you didn't know the story, the earliest point you might believe that the ghost really was telling the truth is Claudius' line 59, 3.1 (i.e., Act III-Scene.1):

How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience!

And what exactly is Claudius feeling guilty about anyway? It's not clear. It could be guilt for marrying Hamlet's mother so quickly, which is what Hamlet is initially upset about, and justifying the quick marriage is in part what Claudius' initial speech is all about in 3.2.

Up until 3.2, Hamlet is not sure about the veracity of the ghost (The spirit that I have seen May be the devil . . .), so he sets a 'mouse trap' (the play's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king) where he smokes Claudius out by directing a play about a king who is murdered by his own brother. Until 3.2, the audience doesn't really know if Claudius murdered the king, and they (and Hamlet) only know this with certainty during Claudius's confession of the murder in 3.3.

And if they are not absolutely sure about Claudius until 3.3, what about the other characters in the play? They never know. All the way through the play Hamlet looks just like the guy he's pretending to be: someone who's coming unglued. Take out Claudius's confession in 3.3, and I don't think the audience would believe Hamlet or the ghost. To them, Hamlet would be seen as he is seen through the eyes of all the characters (except Horatio): they'd think Hamlet is crazy, and to his mother (3.4), he's ranting and raving about a murder, and yes, there is a murder, but not of King Hamlet -- it's of Polonius, and yes, there is a murderer, but it's not Claudius -- it's Hamlet!

Killing Polonius was a BIG mistake: Claudius sends Hamlet away to England where, unknown to Hamlet, he is to be killed.

It is fascinating that while Hamlet is acting' crazy to the characters in the play, to us, we see a man's intelligence and rationality engaged at the highest order - his very life depends on this. He must be assured of Claudius's guilt before he can act.

And act he does. On the desolate wind swept plains of Demark, before Fortinbras's mighty army poised fearlessly, calmly, for battle, Hamlet, standing alone, finds and embraces courage, his final soliloquy before the end (Act IV- Scene 4):

Examples gross as earth exhort me: Witness this army of such mass and charge . . . Exposing what is mortal and unsure To all that fortune, death and danger dare . . .

This sight, this vision, gives Hamlet the strength to rise to the occasion, to escape from Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Claudius's plot to kill him, and to make his way back to England for the final show down between him and Claudius.

Hamlet is ready.

The question "Why is Hamlet a tragedy?" is often asked. In my experience of Hamlet, he isn't. He is a hero. In the end, Hamlet has arrived back in Denmark-the King forewarned of his return in Hamlet's own hand (4.6), and we see him greet his great friend Horatio with the story of his escape.

When Horatio expresses worry that Claudius will learn from England that Hamlet arranged to have Rosencrantz & Guildenstern killed, Claudius will know with certainty what Hamlet intends. Hamlet, however, intends to kill Claudius before that happens (the final act, 5.2):

HORATIO: It must be shortly known to him from England What is the issue of the business there.

HAMLET: It will be short: the interim is mine; And a man's life's no more than to say 'One.'

But when Osric surprises Hamlet with news of Laertes's challenge to a dual and Claudius' bet, Hamlet's suspicions are immediately aroused:

HORATIO: You will lose this wager, my lord.

HAMLET: I do not think so: since he[Laertes] went into France, I have been in continual practise: I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart. . .

Horatio, alarmed by what Hamlet's instincts are telling him, urges Hamlet to say he is not well, to avoid/put off the contest . . . and here we see a remarkable courage and resolution in a man traditionally viewed as unable to act, unable to decide. In the face of death, we learn from Hamlet what it means to live:

HAMLET: Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all . . .

Death will come: if it be not now, yet it will come: We can't run from death, only life: the readiness is all . . .

In sum, most young, ambitious actors love to play Hamlet - because, I suspect, they find in him so much of themselves. And while this is certainly true, what they also find in Hamlet in an essential humanness, certain truths that we all know and experience, truths that are at the heart of us, where beyond fear and uncertainty, we know, deep down, that "the readiness is all." As Harold Bloom so aptly put it: Hamlet is "The Invention of the Human," and it is the full measure of the genius of Shakespeare.

(Originally published on "Helium").