Steppenwolf Theatre Company Blog – Chicago Theater, World-Class Ensemble

Austin Pendleton once told me a story about Ethel Merman. Just prior to curtain of opening night a young cast member, his own jitters showing, asked, “Gosh, Miss Merman…are ya nervous?” To which came the reply, “What have I got to be nervous about? I got my lines memorized.”

At the core of this anecdote is the little acknowledged fact that for actors, showing up on time with your lines memorized is a huge percentage of the job. Mind you, there’s still plenty of character analysis and necessary wool gathering to do, but managing the two aforementioned tasks will earn you 80 cents on the dollar come payday.

Now some of you may know that I am one of what are now considered the “Senior Members” of the ensemble. I have actually been present several occasions when the term was used. It’s usually used in front of Board members and donors when I’m being introduced along with Jon Hill. But before your eyes begin to glaze over in anticipation of an “aging actor” essay, let me quickly point out that I really do not “have trouble” memorizing lines. Not at all. When I apply myself to the task, spend the requisite hours pouring over the text, repeating, repeating, repeating…well then it’s a snap.

I just really hate doing that. It’s hard. You actually have to grow neuron connections in your brain while avoiding extraneous connections. If a Johnnie Walker line makes me think of Dale Evans, it’s probably not a helpful connection. Root out that connection and make another, useful association to the exact wording of the line. Otherwise I’ll never remember it.

Pure drudgery.

So I confess to being a little sloppy in my preparation for Kafka; lax in this specific aspect, at least. The result is not always amusing. I forgot irretrievably a line during our first preview for Kafka. I actually called “Line!” in the hopes that someone would save my sorry hide.

No luck.

Finally a mystified Jon Hill supplied the key word that had so cruelly eluded me. I continued the scene too quickly and too loudly…adrenalin oozing from my pores, leaving a taste in my mouth like I’d bitten into aluminum foil. The scene had stopped dead, the audience was reminded that they were watching a play and I had lost four days off my life all because, to my surprise, I had no solid, useable image for the word “anesthetic”.

Nearly anything can shake loose an ill-memorized line. The audience laughing. The audience NOT laughing. Your scene partner reading your cue in a new, interesting way. Even the choice of a GOOD image can sometimes, under pressure, lead you in the wrong direction.

My final line as Col. Sanders in Act II reads “Just consummating my function!” “Consummating” as in consummating a marriage, of course. There’s no better image, right?

On the second night of previews, however, the line was tumbling out of my mouth (I was literally saying the “J” in “just”) when I realized all I could think of was “Just fornicating my function!”

That was not an option.

Luckily I came up with the flatter “fulfilling” and avoided the unfortunate malapropism.

Clearly, nothing is better than memorizing early and exactly. There is no substitute for the hours of effort and it’s amazing how much better the author’s words are than my own. In fact, I recently found I had mis-memorized a line referring to Johnnie Walker’s reason for wanting to end his own life as “It’s all fixed already,” instead of the correct, “the whole thing’s all fixed already.” Hear the difference? The later, correct line carries a more childish music. The source of his despair is more inclusive and final…to my ear anyway.

Now those of you who saw the first previews of Kafka please don’t write angry letters demanding a refund of 80 cents on the dollar. You saw the show we had been rehearsing. And any variations from the ideal were paid for with increased energy and spontaneity. Yet my confessional may illuminate the fact that in even the most seamless performance is an artifice disguising the dozen per second choices being consciously and unconsciously made: the best light being found; timing being changed according to the audience response; allowing for new input from a scene partner; and yes, remembering lines and tweaking them specially for that performance.

It’s very busy up there…and yes, we can hear you.

This entry was posted by Francis Guinan on Tuesday, September 30th, 2008 at 8:13 am and is filed under Kafka on the Shore. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.