Ensemble Theatre Making

A Practical Guide

Rose Burnett Bonczek, David Storck

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2012
• ISBN:
  9781136302091
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Medios de comunicación y artes escénicas
• Subtopic: Artes escénicas

Ensemble Theatre Making: A Practical Guide is the first comprehensive diagnostic handbook for building, caring for, and maintaining an ensemble. Successful ensembles don't happen by chance; they must be created, nurtured, and maintained through specific actions. Achieving common goals in rehearsal and performance requires group trust, commitment and sacrifice. Ensemble Theatre Making is a step-by-step guide to these processes.

Candid and direct, it considers:

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• how to plan and prepare for ensemble work;

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• the essential building blocks of ensemble;

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• how to identify ensemble behaviors;

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• techniques for responding to, and positively redirecting those behaviors.

Tools, techniques and recipes for rethinking ensemble redefine it as a grounded practice, rather than a question of luck. Above all, this significant new work brings decades of experience to the sometimes mystifying questions of what creates ensemble bonds, how to protect them, and how to fix them when they break.

1
What is Ensemble?

They may ask me to change what I do, but not who I am.

–Michael Colby Jones

In our work, an ensemble may be a cast, a class, members of a program, students, amateurs, or professionals. Sometimes we choose the members (casting); sometimes they are thrust upon us (whoever signed up for our class). The members may be similar or as varied as the Earth’s population (male, female, young, old, tall, short, Ukrainian, Bolivian, you name it), but what’s the common denominator? They’re all groups of one size or another and all of the members are in pursuit of a common artistic goal (to tell a story, put on a show, learn a technique, practice skills, etc.). Of course, each member is sure to have individual goals as well, but as long as all members share the group’s primary goal, there is a basis for collaboration.

It’s interesting to note that the Collins English Dictionary traces the word ensemble to the Latin origin meaning “at the same time.” The intent of the word was not to merely say collection, group, or team with something in common, but to include a sense of deep connection between the members that enables them to think and act “at the same time.” So whether you call it “being in sync,” “the group mind,” or “being on the same page,” you’re talking about ensemble. Sadly, it seems the general understanding of the word has come to be diluted from “at the same time” to something less potent or altogether different. Mention ensemble today and some associate it with large casts (an ensemble show), or less featured members of a cast (singers and dancers who round out a musical), or even clothing (“that’s a lovely ensemble she’s wearing”).

Our experiences tell us the same. Haven’t our good ensemble experiences been filled with that feeling of “at the same time”? And isn’t that what’s been missing from some of our less successful experiences? Yet we still call them ensembles. So let’s be clear that there is a generic sense of ensemble frequently used and a more specific sense that we’re talking about in this book. This specific sense of ensemble, with the strong bond among members, is the one that makes us feel a part of something special and it is what we’re after.

Think about how often you’re in an ensemble, in the generic sense. Everywhere you look there are ensembles. Your work at a faculty meeting is ensemble work (even if it doesn’t always feel that way). A carpool is an ensemble (when one member is late and keeps the others waiting, they feel it). Spontaneous ensembles erupt all the time (for example, a random assemblage of airline passengers, stuck on a tarmac for hours, formed an ensemble to force the pilots to return to the airport). They happen all the time, yet our approach to them still tends to be: “I hope the special bond will appear with this group!” Why do we only hope? Why don’t we take action? Or if we do, why do we wait for dire circumstances to occur (like being stuck on a tarmac for hours)? Maybe we’re focused on what we see as a more primary goal: putting up a good show or teaching our students. Or maybe we just don’t know how – it wasn’t part of our training. Or maybe we see it as something ephemeral, like love, not knowing when or where it will strike. And it’s not that we haven’t ever tried. Who hasn’t tried to deal with a loner or rebel who disrupts an otherwise tight group? But the solution isn’t always easy or apparent. This doesn’t mean you have to settle for “I hope” – there are steps you can take to create positive group dynamics, and to maintain a strongly bonded ensemble.

Seeking a bond

As leaders forming an ensemble, we try to say the right things on the first day: something inspiring, something to build confidence, something to instill a strong work ethic, and then we hope for the best as the work begins. We hope for lightning to strike. Yet think about it: lightning doesn’t strike by happenstance. Literally, certain meteorological conditions need to exist for lightning to strike. What if you could create those conditions? What if you turned your rehearsal studio or classroom into a “lightning rod” for great ensemble?

Perhaps some of you have already found ways to take that hope and transform it into something tangible in your process. Perhaps you already know how to build a great ensemble, but want to know why it seems to fall apart after a while. Uh oh, the honeymoon is over. I smell conflict. What was I thinking? They’re not looking at each other today. Someone sucked the air out of the room. How do you maintain the great ensemble you’ve already got? We (David and Rose) have seen directors and actors throw in the towel and say “Well, we just lost it, and don’t click anymore” as if they have no power to effect change. But change is possible. You wouldn’t throw up your hands (even with fingers crossed) and say “I hope this is what happens” in any other category of your work. You would research it, create a plan, take specific actions, and assess those actions as you go. The irony is that we sometimes hold back from taking action because we fear killing whatever good chemistry remains. But as the old song says, wishin’ and hopin’ alone won’t make it happen. If the ensemble is in trouble, go in there and do something about it. Ensemble can be created, nurtured, maintained, and even repaired.

So move from hoping to taking action. You will not only have greater success, but also greater joy in your ensemble. Which isn’t to say that you won’t still have unsatisfying experiences, but those will grow fewer and farther between. And if you examine those temporary failures, they will help you refine the actions you’re taking, and lead you even further from hoping to doing.

The personal nature of ensemble

We’re filled with joy when we belong to an ensemble that works well together. We thrive on the reliability of it. We feel respected, liked, and loved – by the ensemble, and the leader. We relax knowing who will be at that rehearsal or in that class, because we’ve created relationships, a working dynamic, and a play dynamic. We look forward to spending time with these playmates, no matter what the common goal is. The work doesn’t feel like “work” because we’re shouldering it together and because our passions are reflected and multiplied. It gives us a sense of security, a sense of belonging to a community. And without this, we tend to hold parts of ourselves back from the world:

• I don’t want to share my idea with the others because I might look stupid.
• If I tell her that, she might reject me.
• Look how they’re looking at me – they all hate me.
• How can I be sure that person won’t use what I say against me?

We live in a world filled with judgment and so we look for sanctuaries that protect us from it. We find that protection in the form of a safe ensemble. It is a place where, for better and worse, we can be ourselves and be accepted.

From your earliest days, you were a member of your first ensemble: your family. You loved, you struggled, you learned, and you grew together. As you grew, you looked to form your own families, in the form of ensembles; from the band of friends you chose, to the clubs you joined, to the profession you entered. We all strive to connect with other human beings who make us better versions of ourselves. As ensemble leaders, we also strive to connect with other human beings so that we can make them better versions of themselves. And isn’t that similar to the role of a parent?

While chatting one day, we (Rose and David) discovered that we had both been asked the question “Why did you choose to be a director?” To our astonishment, we found that our answers were almost identical: We direct so that we can create positive family experiences. With each show, we create a new family and live another family experience. We want to do it again and again; nurture that family, guide them to be healthy and supportive of one another. We want to be the best “parent” possible. As directors, we get the opportunity to make that happen.

So many others that we’ve met in our profession have shared similar feelings. They’re not only seeking to tell their stories – they’re seeking a family to help them in the telling. That chosen community provides a safe and supportive foundation from which the individual can grow stronger, more confident, be accepted, and do their best work. They also know that, like a family, no matter what they do, that chosen family is going to show up at rehearsal the next night. They will never abandon that play or the people involved. Think of the scene in the most recent remake of King Kong, when impresario Carl Denham (Jack Black) has brought Jack the playwright (Adrien Brody) on board ship, and orders the ship to pull out from the dock to keep the writer an artistic prisoner who will write the screenplay for his movie. The playwright races topside, sees that they’re slowly pulling away from the dock, turns to Denham and screams “You can’t do this to me! I won’t write your screenplay! I love the theatre!” Denham retorts, “No ya don’t. If you loved theatre, you woulda jumped.”

We in the theatre are a committed bunch, aren’t we? Why is that? Good ensemble forges a stronger than usual bond between its members; a bond that remains in place long after members go their separate ways. Some of us are familiar with this bond because we’ve been fortunate enough to experience it. The rest of us have heard legendary stories about great theatre collectives or productions, championship teams, or soldiers in combat. Members of these ensembles are often heard to describe the bond as “I would lay down my life for him,” or “We could read each other’s minds,” or “I always know that she will be there for me.” Members credit this bond for the extraordinary achievements that they accomplished together or the horrific hardships they were able to endure. The times spent within the ensemble are often recounted as “the greatest time in my life.” In each case, the individuals survived or thrived because the bond allowed them all to be at their best, better than they were capable of alone. We all have the potential to make each other better versions of ourselves, and good ensemble realizes that potential.

Home

If an ensemble is a family, then its environment is a home. Your classroom or rehearsal studio is a home. As an ensemble leader you prepare your environment as you would your home and instill in your ensemble members that they should treat it as they would their home. Is everyone taking turns vacuuming? Not treating the furniture as if it’s going to be used in a demolition derby? A good ensemble environment is conducive to the work. What environmental needs does your ensemble have? A place where they can be loud? An intimate space? A bare space or one with specific pieces? Suit the environment to your purposes, not just from a practical point of view (let’s have chairs so people can sit), but also according to the needs of the ensemble that day. Perhaps the ensemble is stuck, so you change the environment to support inspiration and discovery (maybe adding an unusual object or changing a configuration of flats or set pieces). Perhaps the ensemble needs to get more focused, so you change the environment to support that (remove the object which was previously inspiring, but is now distracting). In short, provide your “family” with a “home” that supports them and can adapt to their changing needs.

Let’s remember too that home is not just a physical environment, but a state of mind as well (I feel “at home” here). Let’s call it a “psychic home,” as distinguished from a physical home. A good ensemble and its leader provide a safe psychic home for its members as much as they do a physical one. The creative benefit of a safe psychic home is that it enables risk-taking. If everyone feels accepted and secure, they’ll take risks knowing that failures will be met with support and encouragement. Don’t we get more creative results when artists are willing to take risks? And don’t students learn more valuable lessons when they’re willing to raise their hands and try an idea instead of holding back? A safe home empowers everyone in it. We know, intuitively, that greater potential exists in such environments and we seek them out.

Keep in mind that we’re talking about the kind of failure that comes from creative risk-taking, as opposed to the kind that comes from lack of preparation, poor judgment, irresponsible behavior, or selfishness. In fact, a great way to begin a rehearsal or new class is to ask the members how they define failure. You can challenge them to re-define it by the end of your time together.

Establishing and maintaining a safe psychic home requires you to be a mixture of supportive and constructively critical. However, the ensemble members need to be free of criticisms from each other. (Only in solid, long-established ensembles have they earned enough trust and respect from each other to attempt this.) Remember, as leader, you’re in charge: enforce the rules, maintain the boundaries, use discipline when necessary, and always provide support (love). Ensemble members gain a sense of security from knowing that someone is looking after their well-being.

David

One of my improv teachers was Amy Poehler. Our class took place in a small loft in New York that had been converted into a theatre space. It was tiny, dirty, the floor had buckled to the point we were half afraid it would collapse, there was no air conditioning, it was noisy, and the elevator rides elicited nervous jokes about plummeting to our deaths. And yet, it was a special place that we all loved and look back on fondly. (It has since closed, but don’t worry, New York is full of such spaces.) To those of us who studied and performed there, it was home, one of the most wildly creative homes I have ever known. It wasn’t home because of the physical surroundings, that’s for sure. And it wasn’t home because of the great improv that it produced. It was home because of how we thought of it and how we treated it. And that came from Amy. Our class was on Sunday mornings and as the course wound down, some people would show up late, or eat while watching others work, or leave their garbage around. Attitudes were becoming lax and in a very short time, it started to affect our work. Amy would have none of it. She said (and I’m paraphrasing here from memory), “You know, I’m not a particularly religious person, in the traditional sense. I don’t go to church. But I do have a religion – improv is my religion. And this place is my temple. It is sacred to me and what we do here is sacred to me. And it doesn’t matter what the space is, it’s how you treat it. Don’t come in here and piss all over my temple by treating it or the work we do with anything less than reverence. It means that much to me, and if it doesn’t mean that much to you, then you shouldn’t be here.” Now young improvisers can be a pretty laid back, slack bunch of people – especially on a Sunday morning. But on that morning, something changed. Old classmates still talk about that morning and tell that story. Amy Poehler wasn’t famous then, we just knew her as our teacher. And I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was also an ensemble builder.

What does it mean to be in an ensemble?

Remember the earlier story from King Kong about the strong commitment found in theatre artists? Yes, we are a committed bunch. But let’s ask ourselves, “What are we committing to?” Commitment to the ensemble is different than commitment to the project. By committing to an ensemble, you’re already committing to the project – and more. This notion goes back to the earliest form of theatre: rituals and storytelling around a fire. No one dancing around the fire or telling about that day’s hunt was hoping for a good review or looking to get an agent. They were sharing, playing, bonding, and reinforcing the security they got from each other’s company. They were fellow tribe members committed to ensuring their collective survival through sharing stories of events (more on this in Chapter 2). In families, we don’t commit to a pr...