Reading for the Soul in Stanislavski's the Work of the Actor on Him/Herself
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Reading for the Soul in Stanislavski‘s The Work of the Actor on Him/Herself: Orthodox Mysticism, Mainstream Occultism, Psychology and the System in the Russian Silver Age BY C2010 Patrick C. Carriere Submitted to the graduate degree program in Theater and the Graduate Faculty of the University of Kansas in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. ______________________________ Chairperson* ______________________________ ______________________________ ______________________________ Date Defended_______________________________ The Dissertation Committee for Patrick C. Carriere certifies that this is the approved version of the following dissertation: Reading for the Soul in Stanislavski‘s The Work of the Actor on Him/Herself: Orthodox Mysticism, Mainstream Occultism, Psychology and the System in the Russian Silver Age Committee: ________________________________ Chairperson* _______________________________ _______________________________ _______________________________ _______________________________ Date approved:_______________________ i Contents List of Plates iii Preface iv Introduction 1 Chapter I: The Roots of the Actor‘s Soul 52 Chapter II: The Ikon and the Actor 89 Chapter III: Occult Cosmology, Concepts of Creation and the Construction of the Soul in Stanislavski‘s System 137 Chapter IV: Steiner, Stanislavsky, Symbolists and the Life of Art 179 Chapter V: Mystical Psychology and Engineering the Soul in the System 225 Conclusion 277 Appendix I 291 Appendix II 298 Works Cited 302 ii List of Plates Figure 1: Andrei Rublev‘s ―Hospitality of Abraham‖ 94 Figure 2: Hans Holbein‘s The Body of the Dead Christ in the Tomb 120 Figure 3: The Schematic of the Soul of the Actor in the Creative Process According to the Tenets of Stanislavski‘s System. 158 Figure 4: Chakras as understood by European occultists. 160 Figure 5: A comparison of Leadbeater‘s chart of the creation of the universe according to the tenets of theosophy and an inverted copy of Stanislavski‘s rendering of the actor‘s creative process. 165 Figure 6: The Titles of the Eight Volume Collected Works of Stanislavski and their English Translations. 291 Figure 7: My Translation of the Chapter Tiles of the First Volume of An Actor‘s Work… compared to the original and English Translations. 295 iii Preface This exploration was first motivated by the dissonance I felt between my reading of acting theory and its praxis. I can remember when I first taught an introductory acting course that used An Actor Prepares as its central text; it was the first time that I actually read the entire volume and, perhaps, the first time I was ready to read it. I had just returned after 3 years of living in Japan, and I was carrying with me a theatrical experience that forever changed my view on performance, and what it means to be truthful and ―real‖ as an actor. I can remember sitting in Kabukiza in Tokyo and watching a performance of Terakoya (The Temple School). At the core of this story, a samurai retainer is protecting the son of his murdered lord, keeping him in hiding in a temple school. In order to fulfill his duty to his lord, the samurai sends his own son off to be beheaded in the place of his ward. After the execution, his son‘s head is delivered to him in a box. The moment he opens the box, the actor performed a mie, a physically exaggerated pose that marks a moment of emotional intensity. His body convulsed; his head rolled around; his eyes moved impossibly in separate directions; and he let out a stylized cry that indicated how he was covering his weeping with laughter. It was alien to me, so outside of my training and aesthetic experience up to that point. In the midst of a story, I was barely following because of its archaic language, this actor – in almost clownish make-up, with a ―false‖ voice and doing what I would have labeled as the height of ―overacting‖ – brought me to tears. Across an immense gulf of culture, language and history, with the power of his artistic creation and his presence, he made me feel what the actor felt as the character. It was not that I was drawn into the story and was responding to the context. I did not even know that it was his son‘s head in the box. It was iv him: the power of his mind, body and spirit washed over me, and I shared tears with a Japanese grandmother sitting next to me and a teenage boy to the other side of me. This experience kept returning to me as I read An Actor Prepares, discussed it with my students and coached performance. I was frustrated by those performances and my instruction. I felt I had coached the actors to the level of becoming ―believable,‖ and we were creating moments of honest emotion – at least for the actors on stage. However, the audience (with me included) in the studio remained supportive but distant and observant. What was emotionally moving for the actors had no effect on us. We did not feel what they felt. This led me to look in An Actor Prepares and other acting texts for hints on how to achieve the kind of performance for which I was striving. As I read more about acting and the various interpretations of Stanislavski‘s theories, I felt a dissonance between my sense of performance as both an actor and audience member, my reading of An Actor Prepares and the rhetoric of performance and actor training found in the discourses surrounding Stanislavski‘s ideas. And, since I had only a rudimentary knowledge of Russian culture and no knowledge of Russian, I was uneasy with the validity of my own reading and the other interpretations around me. This unease provoked me to embark on a philological exploration of Russian in order to understand more fully what was presented to me as a student and teacher under the name of ―Stanislavsky.‖ I decided to read Stanislavski‘s works in the original Russian, and to learn enough about Russian culture so that I had a context for his ideas. What I found was a richness of spiritual and artistic exploration of which I had been oblivious. Since I was born and raised during the final throws of the Cold War, I suffered from a one-dimensional understanding of Russian culture. My experience of Russia was v confined to an American view of the Soviet world, so I had no conception of the depth of the undertaking I had ahead of me. To educate myself, I had to journey across continents, through the great Russian authors, works on Russian history and thought, archives, museums and churches. I found myself in rehearsal rooms and studios with students of Vakhtangov and Michael Chekhov. When I finally developed my linguistic abilities to the level where I could begin to read Stanislavski, I did so, aloud, with the constant correction and direction of Dr. Maia Kipp. Over her kitchen table, I began that long process of unpacking the Russian words in front of me. I was astounded by what I had missed in my reading of the English translation. Aside from significant abridgements, mistranslations and lacunae in the text, I had missed a whole sensibility that was absent from the English. In my reading of An Actor Prepares, words like ―soul,‖ and ―will‖ seemed metaphorical. Terms like ―inner motive forces‖ and ―subconscious‖ seemed clinical. In Russian, and in the broader context of my experiences with ―Russia,‖ these words had a richness and depth that pointed to the spirituality of Stanislavski‘s work. I realized that much that I had learned and taught in the name of Stanislavski was incomplete – not false or intentionally misleading, simply incomplete. The spiritual dimension of Stanislavski‘s work is what integrates its separate ideas into a coherent system that I had not seen before, and at its core was the mystical, sacred power of tvorchestvo (the creative process). It is what links imagination with communion, beat work and intention with concentration and action, and the internal with the external. This dimension allows the actor to understand that public solitude does not mean separation from the audience, that psychological motivation is not the same as introspection and that individual emotional experience is not the end of performance; theater is fundamentally a shared experience. vi Stanislavski‘s System is constructed to lead the actor to experience the ineffable power of presence in performance. My research into the construction of the soul (dusha) of the performer not only put the elements of the System into a cohesive whole, nor simply uncovered an abstract idea. Stanislavski‘s intent was practical: to create a comprehensive approach to unlock the actor‘s true creative power. This does not mean that the books on the System are a quasi-religious text. Rather, I think that the discourse of the System indicates that there are modes of communication, levels of heightened connection and concentration that actors must explore in order to actually touch and move an audience. How do we develop ability to identify, generate and utilize the energy of action (aktivnost’) or will-feeling (vole-chuvstvo)? What does it mean to fully construct the ―life of the human spirit of the role‖ and then to transmit it to another onstage? What is experience of giving ―life‖ to your imagination and then interacting with it? I believe that these techniques do exist in piecemeal in the incredible variety of performance traditions and training systems. The challenge is to find those methods of training and preparation that work together to prepare the actor for the creative process, tvorchestvo. vii Introduction In art, external form is less important than spiritual content.