I repeat, said Oscar, glancing around at the fourteen people who had gathered in the rehearsal studio, the two most essential ingredients in any production are Love and Discipline. It was his master class on directing and we had begun at Point One on the Agenda, Casting and Cast-Members.
Sadly, in this enlightened epoch after we have squashed (with its subsequent sniggers) the obvious diminution to a sado-masochistic connotation - fashionable and fatuous thinking will assume that Love enables control over someone elses body and Discipline enables control over someone elses mind. In Theatre, as I have practised it for some fifty years, an acceptance of Discipline permits control of every fibre of ones own physical being and a transmittal of Love permits a communication of minds - ideas.
At that moment, the door flew open and a small woman burst into the room with a cry of, Am I late? Oh Im so sorry, it was my naughty pussy...
Oscar continued, One of the ways in which Love and Discipline combine with each other is in the practice of punctuality: never being responsible for delaying the start of a session or, when one is unavoidably delayed, carefully avoiding the interruption of a session that has started in ones absence. Good evening, Gwyneth.
So, let us clarify the application of those terms. By Discipline, I mean self-discipline: the absorption and perfection of every aspect of the actors craft. By Love, I mean the unstinted sharing of ones ideas and effort with others, together with a readiness to receive a willingness to understand the ideas of others.
Please tell me if I start to sound pompous or insincere, and Oscar waited.
Alright, he resumed. Lets talk about actors.
It is the actors you choose, and those who seek to become actors under your guidance, who make you their director. It is not you who makes them members of your team. If you have a tantrum a fit of pique and walk away from the production, it can still go on without you. But it cannot go on without the actors. In other words, you need them more than they need you, and dont you ever forget that, not for an instant.
Yet... there is a fashion today for inexperienced directors to announce such freedom of expression among their casts that it is the actors who decide the shape and texture of the production, not the director. This system has been recounted to me by university students who come to me for help with their directing. On closer examination, I have discovered two possibilities: either the director has skimped his or her preparation or they have not the guts to take command and exercise leadership. Believe me, in Theatre democracy does not work, and neither does egotistical despotism. It is essential that the director is possessed of a blinding passion an all-consuming love and respect for the material he has chosen to direct. He MUST have a clear VISION of how the material in every detail - will be presented to the Audience BEFORE he (or she, forgive my apparent sexism when I speak for myself, in the masculine) before he begins the first meetings with his team of actors and technicians.
Having said that, it is essential also that the director knows how to listen. No matter how persuasive he is that his vision for every moment of the play is as right as he can make it, he can be sure that other team-members have ideas, AND THEY MAY BE BETTER THAN HIS. So, just to avoid the chaotic jabbering that would otherwise ensue, we lay down rules about when and how ideas can be given by any participant.
But we were going to talk about actors.
You know... I have no objection to competent actors who demand colossal efforts from me, because I have discovered that the most difficult people to direct are those who imagine that they need no direction, they already have perfect stagecraft. I can recall moments in rehearsal that shine out like gems, when an actor has been so close to perfection, but has not quite got the point I am making, so we try again and fail, so we try again and again until that magic moment occurs as though an electric spark has arced across the space between us; the actors eyes suddenly glow with comprehension and... those are the moments when one knows why one is a director.
Then one locks horns with a pretentious clod and ... what a shame they exist.
But, really, the objective is to create a high uniformity of performance standard in which every creature and feature on the stage is perfect and the director has ceased to exist. If you can see the directors work at performance time, then hes done it wrong. Be sure that the director will be blamed for all of the productions faults, but, in a well-managed show, it is the actors and technicians who will receive the plaudits.
Thats why I resist curtain speeches. Years ago, I got forcibly dragged on for one in a theatre where I had worked hard over a succession of productions, but the Audience were still badly behaved, so I took the opportunity to give them a sound telling off for coming back late to their seats after the interval. That sorted out THAT.
Then there are the actors who can play one character only. Many of them exist in the commercial Theatre much moreso in cinema and TV - and you see them every year when they get together to give each other prizes for consistency and earning. Ask me afterwards and Ill give examples, but you can recognise them when they appear on stage (as opposed to cinema and TV) because they wear snorkel-like devices on their heads which indicate that they have never learned how to produce their voices correctly. Perhaps they are also reminded of their lines by the same devices.
For me, the sheer joy of directing has occurred when someone previously unknown and inexperienced has turned up at a casting sessions and Ive spotted a dull glimmer of promise that just needs a vigorous buffing to reveal a lustrous glow of talent. Over the years, I remember with pride a succession of beginners. A few of then progressed to great things and are now making much more money than Ive ever seen.
Unfortunately, those one-character actors have their place in any production situation where time is expensive. I remember being employed to direct a comedy that was already cast with three famous comedians two men and a woman supported by two actresses, one of whom had learned how to act, thank God. When they assembled before me for the very first time, the senior comedian said, before I could utter a word, Now tell us what to do, and that is really what they wanted to be absolved from a responsibility to think; apparently that was my job. After a very short rehearsal period, the show went out on a tour of some thirty theatres before it was televised. I dropped in and gave notes from time to time, and so the production developed. I think my abiding memory of it came from spotting the arrival of an unexpected couple of thou into my bank account which, on enquiry, turned out to be my fee for directing the television performance. The management were surprised when I protested that I had merely sat with a camera director for an hour or so and suggested his shooting angles.
Of course, such nonsense does not prevail when one is working on a truly poetic or thoughtful work in the commercial theatre, but I was jolly glad I had done my usual conceptual and preparational work equally as carefully as I did for Under Milk Wood.
At this stage in my career, I can sit quietly gazing into space and puffing on my pipe while hundreds of actors parade before my minds eye. Some of them appeared in one production only, then disappeared for ever, while others stuck with me from play to play like the good friends they were, but I remember them all with very great affection indeed, even the fractious ones. They made me their director. Among them all, I can recall only once having to replace a cast-member and she still plagues my conscience even though she was so grateful and relieved when I suggested that she would be happier as our prompter. You can guess who took over the part at short notice.
And Cara, with a shy grin, took a bow from the book-sales table.
The fact is, Oscar admits, I was at fault in casting that girl in the first place.
So, you can gather that I have experienced four main types of actor and it is possible to fit every aspirant who attends a casting session into one category or another. First, there are the one-character mercenaries. Second, there are the ones who have learned their craft. Third, there are the ones that one recognises as being capable of learning enough technique within the compass of the rehearsal schedule. Last, there are the ones who are confident that nobody can teach them anything.
When casting a production, I seek out those of the second category and these become my pace-setters, the backbone of our production. They are recognisable by their voices, by their bearing and by their response to one during the session. Always, after I have listened to some line-reading by all present, I like to play improvisational games within the context of the play. These can be very revealing, and helpful in weeding out those who belong in the first and the last categories.
And always I reserve a few slots for beginners. Smart-alecks you can keep, I dont want them in my cast. Instead, give me any number of willing learners.
Oscar paused and smiled enquiringly at all the upturned faces, then he said, I think Ive listened to the sound of my own voice for quite long enough on the subject of Casting and Cast-Members. The next subject will be The Five Production Phases, which I will talk about after we have discussed our thoughts on Casting and Cast Members. Alright? Any questions?
Leaning on his stick, he limped back to his table, sat down at it and poured himself a glass of juice while people glanced cautiously at one another before one of them nervously raised a hand.
Thank God it was not Gwyneth with any more pussy-cat excuses.
Jonah was a very experience director, teacher and writer who sadly passed away in February 2006. He was also the author of the highly successful "Playmaker - The Craft of Directing Plays (The Way I Seen It)".








