Abstract/Synopsis/Title

Thesis paper for MA in Theatre at Binghamton University 2013

TITLE OF PAPER:  AMERICAN DISCIPLES AND DEVELOPERS OF STANISLAVSKY IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY

ABSTRACT/SYNOPSIS

This thesis evaluates Constantin Stanislavsky’s “system” and the reasons why he created it. It explores how the “system” was discovered and adapted by three American teacher practitioners, Lee Strasberg, Stella Adler and Sanford Meisner. It proposes that the goal of Stanislavsky and the three others was to create or discover a systematic technique that would allow an actor to approach his subconscious in such a way that inspired, organic, emotionally true acting would be the result. It evaluates instances where the “system” was changed or adapted for reasons other than teaching an actor to act with inspiration.

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Table of Contents

I. Introduction; Courting Inspiration

II. Constantin Stanislavsky, The Moscow Art Theatre, The “System”

            A. A Theatrical Life

            B. The Moscow Art Theatre

            C. The Development of the “system”

            D. Stanislavsky’s Writing About the “system”

            E. Essence of the “system”

III. Lee Strasberg’s Path to Stanislavsky

            A. Development of the Method

            B. Essence of the Method

            C. Ownership: System vs. Method

IV. Stella Adler’s Path to Stanislavsky

            A. Essence of the Adler Technique

V. Sanford Meisner’s Path to Stanislavsky

            A. The Essence of the Meisner Technique

VI. Conclusion

VII. Works Cited

 

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I. INTRODUCTION: COURTING INSPIRATION

What is inspiration? How does it occur on stage? When present, how can it be controlled? The best minds in the theatre have asked and continue to ask these questions. Among them are Lee Strasberg, Stella Adler and Sanford Meisner. Each of them experienced inspired moments as actors or as they watched other actors perform.  Strasberg commented on an inspired acting moment from the actor Jacob Ben-Ami (Strasberg 9); “I have spoken of Ben-Ami’s inspiration in John the Baptist. But [he was] not always able to repeat the experience at will. Recreating or reliving intense emotional experiences at will was at the core of our work” (Strasberg 114).

The extraordinary moment Strasberg mentions and the desire to re-create it caused him and his fellow teacher practitioners to seek out a step-by-step approach to the art of acting. In their search, they discovered the work of Constantine Stanislavsky.  Each of them built upon and adapted his work to their sensibilities and individual training philosophies. This study examines them and their techniques. At the center of all, it analyzes how these teacher practitioners sought a technique that could consistently elicit inspiration from the actor in the form of real emotion, a “system” that they found in the work of Stanislavsky.

Stanislavsky called this process of reaching inspired acting his “system” always in quotes with a lower case s because he considered his findings to be provisional, “[…] never System with a capital ‘S’ that suggested a closed and rigid theory” (Benedetti, Actor x). (N.B. I will follow his example throughout this essay in deference to the way he wrote, “system”).

In his autobiography, My Life In Art, Stanislavsky described the actor’s unique relationship to inspiration in this way: “The main difference between the art of the actor and all other arts is that every other artist may create whenever he is in the mood of inspiration.  But the artist of the stage must be the master of his own inspiration and must know how to call it forth when it is announced on the posters of the theatre” (571). Since Stanislavsky is the primary influence on Strasberg, Adler and Meisner, it is important to understand what he meant by inspiration in a performance,

As Stanislavsky was developing as an actor, he was a part of the Society of Art and Literature in Moscow, an organization that will be discussed later. A friend, Alexander Fedotov asked Stanislavsky to act in his father’s plays. The father, Alexandr Filipovich Fedotov was a renowned producer, playwright and actor (148). Stanislavsky cited his time with Fedotov as his best school, after which he could no longer go back to his amateur ways (Magarshack, Life 55).  The play was Moliere’s Georges Dandin; Stanislavsky’s part was Sotanville (Stanislavsky, Life 161).

Stanislavsky contrasted his own acting with Fedotov’s “I played artlessly at living where Fedotov lived organically.[…] Fedotov had real, living life; I had only a report of that life” (164).  He attempted to imitate Fedotov but could not copy that “living spark of genius” (164).  Finally Stanislavsky received a “gift from the lap of the gods” (165).   He stated:

  • Something had ripened within me, slowly filling with life while it was in the bud, and now at last it bloomed.  One accidental touch, the bud opened and from it burst fresh young petals, seeking the warmth of the sun.  And with me the accidental touch of a make up brush on my face served to open the flower of the role in the shining glow of the foot-lights (165).

From this breakthrough under Fedotov’s tutelage, what had Stanislavsky gained and what had he lost?  He lost “that empty stage emotion which I had mistaken for inspiration – that is the food that blows up the soul of the actor but does not nourish it.[…] At last I had understood my mistake … had I substituted true inspiration for false stage emotion I might have gained a great deal of creative strength from the change” (166).  Stanislavsky’s definition of inspiration, like Strasberg’s definition is: organically created real emotion. In the statement above, he contrasts “true inspiration against false stage emotion,” highlighting that true inspiration is true emotion or Fedotov’s, “real, living life”.

In pursuit of inspiration, Stanislavsky also questioned a world full of theatres and actors that provides no regimented, systematized approach for actor training.  Where is the system by which the actor can approach his psyche and coax inspiration from it?  He questions, “Is it necessary to say that there can be no system for the creation of inspiration or system for creation itself” (167)?

He points out that among other performers, violinist and singers, they were given “the most important thing [in relation to their talent] by Apollo himself” (168).  But there were certain things they could do to encourage their talent [and thereby encourage inspired performing] to reveal itself because they all shared, “lungs and a system of breathing, a nervous system and a physical organism […]” (168).

He felt that, for the actor, “[In] the realm of psychic life there is a great deal that is necessary for all men, and the approach to which is the same for all men” (168).  Stanislavsky amplifies his thought this way:

  • These organic laws of creation, common to all mankind […] that are perceptible to consciousness are necessary for every artist, as it is only through them that he can release his superconcious creative apparatus, the substance of which will always remain secret to man. And the more talented the artist is, the greater and more mysterious this secret, and the more necessary the technical methods of creativeness perceptible to consciousness for direct reaction on the hidden springs of superconsciousness that are the source of inspiration.[…] True art must teach [one] how to awaken consciously his subconscious creative self for its superconscious organic creativeness.  (168)

So, inspired performing is not something available to our direct command but it can be encouraged to come from the subconscious.  His “system” was built to that end (Benedetti, Actor xx). The teacher practitioners mentioned in this treatise studied his “system” because they valued inspired acting.

I will explore how each teacher practitioner recognized inspired acting moments, moments in their own performance or in the performances of others. I will examine how those moments of inspiration led them to Stanislavsky’s “system” and how they adapted his “system” to their own vision. Adler asserted, “Stanislavski evolved a set of principles and standards.[…] Nowhere in the United States is the Stanislavski System truly practiced.[…] We are Americans. We are not nineteenth-century Russians” (Malague 115). The adaptation of Stanislavsky’s system by the teacher practitioners introduces the challenge of defining terms. Terms that Stanislavsky originated during his lifetime in the late 19th century and early 20th century have passed through decades and many different interpretations.

An example of the different interpretations applied to Stanislavsky’s terms is evident in the vernacular of Sanford Meisner. It pertains to emotion memory or affective memory. Despite its varied application in the practice of Strasberg, Adler, and Meisner, emotion memory (also known as affective memory) has a straightforward definition as “[…] the conscious attempt on the part of the actor to remember the circumstance surrounding an emotion-filled event from his real past in order to stimulate an emotion which he could use on stage” (Meisner 10).  That is a basic definition for the term.  In the section on Stanislavsky and Strasberg I will lay out more complex definitions.  What did Meisner believe about the emotion memory technique?

Early in Meisner’s book On Acting, Dennis Longwell, his co-author states, “[On] this issue [affective memory], Meisner sided with Stella Adler who was later to become a noted acting teacher and close friend, and affective or emotional memory plays no role in the system Meisner has evolved” (Meisner 10).  Yet, later in the book when Meisner is directing a scene from A Children’s Story, the actress in the play is having trouble relating to a key component of her scene; the man she loves leaves her because he suspects her of being a lesbian.  Meisner directs the actress to fill her part with emotion.

  • Suppose that when the actress playing the part was five years old, a gang of four or five local ruffians dragged her into a deserted lot and ripped off her clothes.  The horror, the disgrace of this experience is still so alive in her that whenever she recalls it she breaks down. So that might be a useful preparation for the opening of this scene, Beth, because what you’re doing now is reading lines in a kind of sad way, but it has no life, no emotion.[…] I can’t think of episodes or incidents for you which arouse in you terror, horror, shame […] you have to do it for yourself.[…] It’s pure Stanislavsky. It’s as if she were a five-year-old kid and something dreadful happened to her […]. (137)

In Meisner on Acting, it was asserted that “affective or emotional memory plays no role in the system Meisner evolved” (10). Yet in the previous passage he encourages the actress to find in herself “episodes or instances for you which arouse in you terror” (137). He calls what is essentially affective memory a pure application of Stanislavsky’s “As If”.  This is a clear example of the different relationship the teacher practitioners had to these terms.

The Meisner example above is not meant to accuse this luminary of spotty knowledge of Stanislavsky. It is to say that teaching acting deals with the only instrument available to actors, themselves.  Freeing that instrument in order to respond truthfully under imaginary circumstances requires that one deals with the human psyche. It is no accident that, for the term affective memory, Stanislavsky drew from the works of Theodule Ribot, a psychologist of his day (Benedetti 46). Actor training or pinning down the complexities of the human psyche and how to portray it on stage is complicated.  The fact that terms found different expression under each teacher is merely a testament to the complexity of the subject matter.

This paper will explore the various ways the teacher practitioners struggled to define what Stanislavsky’s technical terms meant and the correct way to apply them.  It will investigate how each of them worked to reach the emotion filled, inspired acting that led Stanislavsky to his “system”, a “system” that, in the words of Stanislavsky, rejected, “empty stage emotion which I had mistaken for inspiration – that is the food that blows up the soul of the actor but does not nourish it.[…] At last I had understood my mistake. […] Had I substituted true inspiration for false stage emotion I might have gained a great deal of creative strength from the change” (Stanislavsky, Art 166).

I will now move to describe Stanislavsky’s early life and career in theater and how that led to the formation of his “system”.  Then I will examine the “system”, with this caveat. Stanislavsky changed his “system” often as he was building it. His ideas about it organically metamorphosed. Therefore, he altered it accordingly. One has to realize when considering a body of work that such changes are inevitable. In this paper, I am referring to various periods of Stanislavsky’s evolution, knowing that he and his ideas are different at different times. One could say that the development of his “system” provided a kind of moving target. He said, “What does it signify, to write down what is past and done. The system lives in me but it has no shape or form. The system is created in the very act of writing it down. That is why I have to keep changing what I have already written” (Benedetti, Actor xxii).

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II. CONSTANTIN STANISLAVSKY, THE MOSCOW ART THEATRE, AND THE “SYSTEM”

A Theatrical Life

In My Life in Art, Stanislavsky describes an idyllic, privileged childhood full of a large extended family, good-natured pranks, hunting and all night slumber parties (15-16). “Stanislavsky was born in 1863, the second son of a family devoted to the theatre” (Benedetti, Introduction 2). His brothers and sisters put on theatricals inspired by weekend carriage rides going to the circus, opera or a play (42-43). He recalls their circus productions: “So far as the free passes were concerned, there existed a special little book of numbered tickets with the words, “Constanzo Alexeiev’s Circus” written on every ticket (46). Constanzo Alexeiev was a play on Stanislavsky’s given name, Constantin Alexeyev (Magarshack, Life 1). He elaborates: “[From] the memories of my childish emotions and experiences those that have remained with me longest have to do with the need of spectacle and satisfaction” (Benedetti, Introduction 39).

Although his ancestors were peasants and Stanislavsky was not part of the aristocracy, his father’s business (manufacturing gold and silver thread for the military) made them wealthy (Magarshack, Life 1).  He assigns a special word to his ancestors; they came from the “glebe”, i.e., the soil, the land or earth (Stanislavsky, Art 3). He locates himself in time like this:

  • In such wise [sic], from the lard candle to the electric projector from the tarantas to the aeroplane, from the sailboat to the submarine, from the pony express to the radio, from the flintlock to the big Bertha, from serfdom to communism and Bolshevism, I have lived a variegated life, during the course of which I have been forced more than once to change my most fundamental ideas. (3)

Stanislavsky’s first stage appearance was in early childhood.  The family created a series of tableaux vivants, stage pictures with scenery and costumed actors frozen in place.  This was for his mother’s name day, September 5th (Benedetti 5-6). He claims he was three years old at the time (Stanislavsky, Art 23).  Jean Benedetti in Stanislavsky: An Introduction marks his age closer to seven years old (2).

A building on his father’s estate at Liubimovka was transformed into a theater. Stanislavsky performed plays in the theatre with his brothers and sisters, some cousins, and a professor. The group eventually became a small theatre company called the Alexeyev Circle (Benedetti, Life 2).  The name was taken from Constantin Stanislavsky’s actual surname, Alexeyev (Magarshack 2). His stage name was assumed to come from his favorite ballerina as a child whose name was Stanislavskaya (Benedetti, Life 10).

A performance of four one-act plays at his father’s estate was Stanislavsky’s actual debut on the stage. The occasion was again his mother’s name day. The Old Mathematician and A Cup of Tea were the plays in which he debuted (21). His confusion over being criticized in A Cup of Tea and praised in The Old Mathematician was the genesis of his “Artistic Notes” where he would write about his shortcomings and successes on the stage.

At this time Stanislavsky was in the habit of copying the performances of other actors. In The Old Mathematician he did not know of another actor’s performance for his part. There was no actor to copy, yet he was praised for his performance. In A Cup of Tea, he copied a well-known actor’s portrayal of the role, but his work was criticized. The criticism of the role he copied and praise for the role in which he did not copy confused the young Stanislavsky. He expected greater success when copying great performers. Instead, he got the opposite response. He recorded his perplexity. Keeping a journal became a life long habit of criticism about his own acting. After a lifetime of reflection and refinement they would eventually become his “system” (22).

David Magarshack, the noted Stanislavsky historian, commented on Stanislavsky’s debut: “The performance brought to light that constant dissatisfaction with his artistic attainments which was in the end to make Stanislavsky into one of the greatest reformers of the art of acting” (21-22).

In 1885, he tried academic study in a drama school but left after three weeks. He felt the professors could not provide him a sequence of actor training steps but only “indicate the results they wanted” (Benedetti 4). Around this period Stanislavsky was also acting in opera and musical comedies (Magarshack, Life 40).  In fact, the final performance of his first “acting company,” The Alexeyev Circle, was the light comedy Lili (48).

He failed in his attempts to act in opera, and the Alexeyev Circle was starting its demise (Magarshack 50). At this time, “Several famous actresses from the Maly Theater took part in a charitable performance at his home” (Magarshack 50). He participated with them in the play.  “The Moscow Maly Theater was universally recognized as the leading dramatic theater of the century…” (Hardison and Berthold 307).

One of the Maly actresses was Glikeria Fedetova who was trained directly by Mikhail Shchepkin (Stanislavsky, Life 81). Stanislavsky said of Shchepkin: “[He is the] pride of our national art, the man who re-created in himself all that the West could give and created the foundations of true Russian dramatic art and its traditions, our great lawgiver and artist …” (80). Fedetova was a student of Shchepkin and she shared stories of her famous teacher. Shchepkin’s ideas about realism introduced Stanislavsky to the concept (Benedetti 7).

Shchepkin discovered the possibilities of realistic acting. His break with the declamatory acting style of the day began when he witnessed a performance by Prince Meshcherski in the play, The Supposed Dowry. Shchepkin remarked in his memoirs, “This was not ‘acting’. This was too much like real life” (Benedetti 8).  Shchepkin was confronted by realism again, this time in one of his own performances. “One day he was rehearsing Sganarelle in Moliere’s School for Husbands. He was tired and began ‘just saying’ the lines’. The result was a revelation. I realized that I had said a few words in a perfectly simple manner, so simple that had I said them in life and not in a play as I would not have said them otherwise.’ The way was open to a new style of acting – Realism” (9). Shchepkin was freed from serfdom in 1822, joined the Imperial Theatre in Moscow and appeared in the first performance at the Maly.  He remained there for 40 years.  The theater became known as the House of Shchepkin (10).

That charity performance at Stanislavsky’s estate furthered his relationship with Fedetova.  Stanislavsky was excited to work side by side with a “true to goodness artist, who always seemed to be full of something” (Stanislavsky, Life 136). He contrasted her professional playing with his own performance, which was, “far from completely made” (137).  Fedotova offered generalities about her training with Shchepkin to Stanislavsky and an admonition about his acting: “[There] is no training, no restraint, no discipline” (137). So, she affirmed two principles of acting that would find their way into Stanislavsky’s “system”. They were training and discipline. Fedetova would also teach him, “Look your partner straight in the eyes, read his thoughts in his eyes, and reply to him in accordance with the expression of his eyes and face” (Magarshack, Life 52). Stanislavsky later developed her instruction into one of the elements of his “system”, which he called Communication.

His relationship with Glikeria Fedetova deepened in 1888 when Stanislavsky was asked to act in her husband’s plays (Benedetti 29).  Her husband Fedotov was Stanislavsky’s partner in the formation of the Society of Art and Literature. This Society was a group that Stanislavsky founded in 1888 with Fedotov and a few friends. The Society of Art and Literature was a training ground for Stanislavsky. The concepts he developed there would come to fruition in his later work (Benedetti 22). In fact, it was Glikeria Fedetova who warned Stanislavsky against the over-large grandiose scheme behind the Society.  He chalked her warnings up to bitterness over her divorce from Fedotov (Magarshack, Life 56).

The Society of Arts and Literature was more than just Stanislavsky’s brainchild. He provided 25,000 rubles (a windfall from his father’s business) to renovate the club’s premises in 1888 (56).  (The approximate U.S. dollar amount of 25,000 rubles today would be18,900 dollars.) Benedetti sums up Stanislavsky’s time at the Society in this way:

  • During the ten years of the Society’s existence, Stanislavsky was faced with a repertoire of much greater substance than he had encountered hitherto – Pushkin, Moliere, Ostrovski, Shakespeare. Up till then his experience had mainly been in lighter forms.  He had been successively fascinated by the circus, French farce, operetta, vaudeville and ballet.  The new material revealed his lack of method and technique all the more clearly (29).

At this time in his career Stanislavsky performed Othello. He felt that he failed in the role. The production had him lamenting, “I’m losing weight as though I were suffering from some wasting disease.[…] Why did I choose Othello? No, playing in a tragedy is certainly not as pleasant as I imagined” (Magarshack, Life 111)!

From his self proclaimed failure in the role of Othello came a welcome consolation.  “The famous Italian tragic actor, Earnesto Rossi, whom Stanislavsky had worshipped as a boy was present at one of Stanislavski’s performances of Othello” (112). Rossi soothed his wounded ego and felt he would one day rise to the challenge Othello. He instructed, “What you want is art and I daresay it will come” (112).  Stanislavsky completed the conversation in My Life In Art; “‘[But] where and how and from whom am I to learn this art’ […]? ‘M-ma! If there is no great master near you whom you can trust, I can recommend you only one teacher.’ […] ‘Who is he’ […]? ‘You yourself.’” (286). This advice had deep meaning for Stanislavsky since he recorded it in his notebook.  As Rossi advised, through his notebooks, Stanislavsky taught himself and many others (Benedetti Life, 113).

Stanislavsky’s tenure with the Society of Art and Literature ended with a production of “The Sunken Bell, first performed on January 27th 1898, [It] was a great popular success […]” (135). Around six months before the production, Stanislavsky “received a note from Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko, inviting [him] to a conference in the restaurant “The Slavic Bazaar.[…]” [Danchenko] explained to [Stanislavsky] the purpose of [their] meeting … [to] lay in the foundation of a new theater” (Stanislavsky, Life 294).  This note and the meeting with Danchenko would change Stanislavsky’s world and the history of world Theater (136).

The Moscow Art Theatre

Stanislavsky characterized his relationship with Danchenko and their meeting in this way: “Here Fate helped me again, making me meet the man whom I had sought for a long time. I met Vladimir Ivanonvich Nemirovich-Danchenko, who, like me, was poisoned by the same dream […] the theatre, which performs a cultural mission.[…] It seems that Nemirovich-Danchenko had also dreamed of such a theatre as I imagined and sought a man such as he imagined me to be” (Stanislavsky, Life 292-293).  Stanislavsky explained their previous distant but useful relationship;

  • Nemirovich visited all the performances of our Society [of Art and Literature] and after each one spoke with me and criticized them with complete sincerity.[…] He spoke in turn to every actor, put questions to them that were necessary for him for the explanation of the individual nature of each actor.  On my side, I was a constant attendant at all the performances of the Philharmonic Society, and in my way did the same thing with his pupils” (294).

Stanislavsky and Danchenko’s marathon meeting at the Slavic Bazaar lasted for fifteen hours, beginning at the restaurant and ending at Stanislavsky’s villa.  During their conference they mapped out ideas as varied as the proper ethics for the theater to how to design the dressing rooms and green rooms.  Stanislavsky characterized the meeting in this way: “[An] international conference does not discuss questions affecting the welfare of States with such thoroughness as we discussed the fundamental principles of our future enterprise…artistic ideals, questions of pure art, stage ethics and technique, plans of organization, our future repertoire and our mutual relationship” (Magarshack, Life 153). The two men also decided the nature of their working relationship at their theatre. That association can be understood by who controlled veto power.  “The literary veto belongs to Nemirovich-Danchenko, the artistic veto to Stanislavsky” (Stanislavsky, Life 295). Issues of Administration and Organization were the territory of Danchenko as well (297).  “But in the region of the actor, the stage director and the producer I was far from being so yielding”, claimed Stanislavsky (295). Stanislavsky summed up the importance of the veto power agreement: “During all the following years we held closely to this point of our agreement.  One of us would only have to pronounce the magic word veto, and our debate would end in the middle of a sentence.[… ] Each of us who was acknowledged to be a specialist in his particular branch had the opportunity to begin and finish his work without any interference” (296). Their agreement and their relationship would be tested severely in the years to come.

The first season of the Moscow Public-Accessible Art began rehearsals in July 14th 1898. In three years time the Moscow Public-Accessible Art would later change its name to the Moscow Art Theatre (henceforth referred to as MAT).  A barn in Pushkino was adapted to suit their purposes (Magarshack, Life 156). The initial notice of their season was announced as a historical play, Czar Fyodor Ioannovich, along with the previously seen at the Society of Art and Literature, The Sunken Bell and Hannele (having previously been performed at the Society of Art and Literature). Rounding out the bill were Uriel Acosta, Men Above the Law, Greta’s Happiness, The Merchant of Venice, Antigone and, significantly, Anton Chekhov’s The Seagull (158).

The season brought up a struggle between Stanislavsky and Danchenko that was worked out amenably.  Stanislavsky wrote a letter praising the classical plays but questioning the wisdom of staging the modern plays.  Danchenko replied in his letter, “[A] good theatre must therefore present either such classical plays as reflect the noblest modern ideas or such modern play as expresses our contemporary life in an artistic form” (159). Danchenko concluded the letter by praising Stanislavsky as “an artist par excellence” and declaring this final affirmation of their partnership: “I think the best work we could do together would be in plays which I esteem highly for their subject matter and which will give your creative imagination the fullest freedom it needs” (160).

Perhaps Joshua Logan best summed up Danchenko and Stanislavsky’s relationship:

  •  I saw the great company (MAT) when it was still in its golden age of creativity.  There is no doubt that Stanislavsky contributed greatly to the acting technique and the “form” of the theatre. But the man who was most responsible for the “content,” the acquisition of the Chekhov plays and later those of Gorky and Tolstoy, was the man who introduced himself to me all those years ago … Nemirovich-Danchenko (Nemirovich-Danchenko, Life xi).

Whatever their differences, these two iconoclasts were united on one thing: “We declared war on every convention of the theatre under whatever form it appears: in acting, scenery, costumes, interpretation of the play, and so on” (Magarshack, Life 163). Stanislavsky asserted, “Nemirovich-Danchenko and I wanted [… ] to destroy the ancient hokum of the theatre” (Stanislavsky, Life 306). Their shared fight against the excesses of Russian theatre, as they saw them, was also a movement towards realism in theatre that had been coming through the likes of Shchepkin for a long time (Benedetti, Life 24).

In the next eight years, Stanislavsky and Danchenko had their greatest successes in the plays of Anton Chekhov. Chekhov’s The Seagull was one of only two ventures that succeeded in their first season.  Without it, their theatre might well have failed (161).

Chekhov was a master of the psychological drama (Wickham 199).  He wrote “deliberately naturalistic dialogue” (217).  He called himself a realistic writer, one who writes about “life as it actually is […]. Its aim is the truth, unconditional and honest” (Whyman 37). Chekhov’s writing also bore marks of another literary style, naturalism, which is intensified realism (Stromberg xx); that embraced such subject matter as “[…] struggles for equality such as the emancipation of the serfs and the women’s movement […] ordinary people, rather than romantic heroes [as] the protagonists” (Whyman 37).

Chekhov’s realistic plays called for actors who had broken with all the theatrical traditions that Stanislavsky and Danchenko were warring against. To direct Chekhov successfully Stanislavsky was preoccupied “by the external details of [the] production” (Magarshack 173). At that time, Stanislavsky used his talent to make all the realistic details of Chekhov’s plays correct. He paid less attention to the psychology of the Chekhov characters and more attention to the details of the set, costumes and the blocking of his actors (Magarshack 174).

Chekhov baffled Stanislavsky. He asked about The Seagull, “[Are] you sure it can be performed at all” (168)? It was Danchenko who patiently tried to interest Stanislavsky in the play but his explanations were mostly literary and escaped Stanislavsky (168). The consummate showman came out in Stanislavsky. To direct The Seagull,

  •  [He] developed a technique which was purely external.  He had to work from the outside in the hope that by establishing truthfully the external characteristics of the role he could provoke some intuitive response in himself which led him to the psychological aspects of the part.  His approach as a director was identical. He attempted to induce creative mood in his actors by surrounding them with real  objects sound and lighting effects. He imposed his interpretation on every role,                               working endlessly, and at times ruthlessly, to get every detail exact (Benedetti,  Introduction 33).

His “outside in” technique created a triumph. At the end of the first act, the audience demanded five curtain calls.  The actors had never “heard such ecstatic clapping before” (Magarshack, Life 179).

Stanislavsky became a “producer-autocrat […] who suppressed the creative initiative of the actor and transformed them into a ‘mannequins’ who spoke and acted as he thought fit” (174). The way he directed Chekhov had its price, which could be described in this way. His actors were not creating; they were manipulated. Yet, this exacting process served Stanislavsky well in a string of successes in plays from outstanding playwrights like Chekhov, Ibsen and Gorky (Benedetti 34). His period of success came to a full stop with the death of Anton Chekhov on July 15th, 1904. Stanislavsky wrote to his wife, “[Our] whole future appears to me now in the blackest colours: it may not have been noticed but Chekhov’s authority preserved our theatre from many things” (Magarshack 259).

The Development of the “system”

In reality, his work at the Moscow Art Theatre was merely a continuation of his work with Fedotov at the Society of Art and Literature. What he had accomplished at the MAT was a  way of working that depended heavily on the whims of inspiration. An example of this dependence on inspiration taking place, even though he had no systematic way of bringing it forth, occurred when he directed Chekhov’s Three Sisters:

  •  I felt that our position was hopeless.  My heart was beating fast.  Someone began scratching the bench on which he was sitting with his nail and the sound of it was like the scratching of a mouse.  For some reason it made me think of a family hearth; I felt a warm glow over me.[…] I suddenly felt the scene we were rehearsing.  I felt at home on the stage.  The Chekhov characters came to life. (221)

The scratching of the mouse is similar to the stroke of a make up brush that opened up his role in Moliere’s Georges Dandin at The Society of Arts and Literature mentioned earlier.  But these instances of luck were not dependable, and he new it (Stanislavsky, Life 161).  The longing for a “system” to reach inspiration consistently pricked his heart.  How could one’s artistry depend on the whim of a mouse scratch or the stroke of a brush (Magarshack, 260 – 261)? “[Such] lucky chances occurred only by accident, and accident, Stanislavsky said, ‘[It] cannot of course serve as a basis for art’” (212).

Then came a production of Julius Caesar in 1903. Stanislavsky played the part of Brutus under Danchenko’s direction. He adopted Stanislavsky’s style of using rich detailed historical accuracy of set and costuming. Danchenko, “subordinated everything to his historical overview” (Benedetti, Introduction 36). Stanislavsky felt stifled by Danchenko’s “director autocrat” style that he himself had originated.

In 1905, Stanislavsky founded the First Studio “where young actors could experiment with new ideas” (38). When the work of that Studio finally went into production, the acting fell apart.  The actors could not execute the director’s vision because they had no technique. Stanislavsky hid the flaws of actors in his earlier productions, but without Stanislavsky to pull the strings, his actors were not up to the challenge. He began to see that “the ultimate responsibility for an actor’s artistic development lay not with his teachers, not with his directors, but with himself” (40).

In 1906, Stanislavsky experienced “complete artistic satisfaction” (35), in the role of Stockmann in Henrik Ibsen’s An Enemy of the People. However, his triumph was undercut when he began to feel cold and dead in the role (35). The experience of his own “director autocrat” style in Julius Caeser and the way inspiration deserted him in one of his greatest roles in An Enemy of the People raised doubts. He was also troubled that the young actors of the MAT could not perform up to his standards without a director who could control their performances completely. These experiences raised doubts about the efficacy of how he and the MAT had chosen to work. From these seeming dead ends, a nagging doubt hit home for Stanislavsky,

  • I had acquired through my experience as an actor a rag-bag of material on theatrical technique. Everything had been thrown in, willy-nilly, no “system”…  There was a need to create some order, to sort out the material, examine it, assess it and, so to speak, place it on mental shelves. Rough matter had to be worked and polished and laid as the foundation stones of our art. (41)

In 1906, on a hiatus in Finland he would finally begin to lay those “foundation stones” in earnest.

Stanislavsky’s Writings about the “system”

Stanislavsky began to write extensively about his developing ideas. It resulted in three volumes in what came to be called An Actor’s Work on Himself in the Creative Process of Experience (now known as An Actor Prepares), (An Actor’s Work on Himself in the Creative Process of Physical Characterization (now known as Building a Character), and Creating a Role. It is important to understand how these books came to be.

Stanislavsky’s ideas evolved slowly and were not published in his lifetime. In fact when he died, “all that was left of his grand design was his autobiography, My Life in Art (1926), one volume on acting still being revised, a series of drafts and some titles. Much of the material was not published until the 1950’s” (Benedetti, Actor xi). Additionally, “when he sat down to write about his methods, in his effort to be absolutely clear he relentlessly crossed all the ‘t’s and dotted all the ‘i’s, thus achieving the very opposite of what he intended.[…] There are passages which almost defy comprehension, let alone translation.[…] You can see what he means but words get in the way” (viii).

A form that he thought would bring life to his concepts also obscures Stanislavsky’s ideas. The books are presented as a dialogue between a master teacher Tortsov and a class full of students. In the class is Tortsov’s star pupil and narrator, Kostya Nazvanov (Stanislavsky, Prepares 12). “Many specialists felt that by using the fictional form of an imaginary student’s diary and by disguising himself as Tortsov, Stanislavsky had merely added to his problems – and ours” (Benedetti, Actor viii). Despite the challenges of these books they are still essential reading for those who want to understand Stanislavsky’s “system’’(xi).

Elizabeth Reynolds Hapgood, a translator of Stanislavsky’s work, expressed Stanislavsky’s purpose for his writings. “[Friends] of Stanislavsky have long known that he wished to leave a record of the methods by which the Moscow Art Company was built.[…] The first time he mentioned this wish to me he spoke of the projected work as a grammar of acting” (Stanislavsky, Actor 1).  Hapgood brings Stanislavsky’s purposes for the books back to inspiration: “The author [Stanislavsky] is most ready to point out that a genius like [Tomasso] Salvini or [Eleanora] Duse may use without theory the right emotions and expressions that to the less inspired but intelligent student needs to be taught (Stanislavsky, Actor Note by the Translator).

Because of these things, what follows is not an examination of the rudimentary ideas that Stanislavsky focused on when he took his hiatus in Finland; rather, it is an account of the “system” as presented in books that “are fragments of a grand design which Stanislavsky outlined in a letter to his secretary at the end of 1930.  He envisaged a sequence of seven books” (x). When he left for Finland, he was focused on the actors’ creative energy and making that energy the focus of a production (Benedetti, Introduction 41).  He struggled with some fundamental issues of his “system” in Finland. Its details were things he would struggle to formulate for the rest of his life (Benedetti, Actor xx).

Here is a summary of his thoughts about acting techniques as found in his books.  Bella Merlin, in The Complete Stanislavsky Toolkit, took each technique mentioned in An Actor Prepares and the other two books and separated them.  She called them tools and gave each a specific section.  I will use her book as a model and will refer to and define a number of Stanislavsky’s techniques. For certain techniques that are controversial or have important alternate interpretations from other teacher practitioners, I will add further references from those teacher practitioners I will include additional commentary by them. This will provide for an historical context as it pertains to acting theory from Stanislavski onward. I will examine other techniques with material taken directly from Stanislavsky’s three books in the interest of showing his original intent. A basic definition of some of Stanislavsky’s techniques will allow me to clearly define terms that I will use throughout the paper.

Essence of Stanislavsky’s “system”

(N.B. In the following section for clarity I will underline a technique the first time it is listed. Thereafter, I will capitalize the first letter of each of them throughout this treatise unless they are within a quotation.)

To examine Stanislavsky’s “system” we begin with an overall division between the body and the mind, or, as Stanislavsky stated, “[…] like us, a role has two natures, physical and spiritual” (Stanislavsky, Handbook 9). One way that Stanislavsky bridged the gap between the body and the mind was through the Method of Physical Action. Jean Benedetti in Stanislavski and the Actor writes in the voice of a student as he states, “I cannot use the Method of Physical Action effectively unless I am in full control of my art, my technique. For that I must master the Stanislavski “system” which provides the technical means by which to create and communicate the Dramatic ‘I’” (Benedetti, Actor 13). Benedetti explains the Dramatic “I” as distinct from the Real “I”. The Real “I” is who in fact I am in real life. To go from the Real “I” to Dramatic ‘I’, the actor must utilize Stanislavsky’s Method of Physical Action.

When Stanislavsky planned how to write down his “system”, he separated the actor (Real “I”) from the role (Dramatic “I”). But he broke the division down further to the internal, external work on the actor and the role. He said, “[My] “system” is divided into two basic parts: 1. The internal and external work of an actor on himself; 2. The internal and external work of a role” (Benedetti, Introduction 74).  He added detail to this inner and outer work:

  • The inner work of an actor consists in perfecting a psychological technique which will enable him to put himself, when the need arises, in the creative state, which invites the coming of inspiration.  The external work of an actor on himself consists in preparing his bodily apparatus to express the role physically and to translate his inner life into stage terms. (74 – 75)

In light of the thesis for this paper: that inspired, emotion filled acting was the goal of Stanislavsky and the teacher practitioners, it is interesting to note how Stanislavsky summed up the purpose of his “system” where he, “invites the coming of inspiration”.

Bella Merlin in The Complete Stanislavsky Toolkit uses a phrase to unite this effort of control over body and mind. She calls it Psycho-Physicality. In relation to Stanislavsky’s Method Of Physical action she states,

  • PSYCHO – PHYSICALITY basically alludes to the fact that your body and your psyche are trained together to achieve a sense of inner-outer co-ordination.   This means that what you experience internally is immediately translated into an outer expression and (conversely) what your body manifests physically has a direct and acknowledged affect on your psychological landscape. So, I bury my head in my hands: before long, my muscular memory and my imagination kick in and I start to feel despair. (18)

Stanislavsky broke his complex “system” down into Elements or techniques that were meant to train the actor. “The Elements have to be separated out, studied and mastered individually and then put back together again in a coherent technique” (Benedetti, Actor 14).

The ‘“system”’ demanded a responsive body that could readily express what the imagination, thoughts and feelings of the actor wanted to express (Benedetti, Actor 13). A body that is capable of Relaxation and free of tension is the first step to the end of expressing Action. “Stanislavsky placed RELAXATION at the foundation of his ‘system’” (Merlin, Toolkit 32). He stated that through Relaxation the actor could more capably “reflect the life of the play in which [you’re] appearing” (Stanislavsky, Stage 98).

When Stanislavsky directed Anton Chekhov’s The Seagull, he wrote extensive director’s notes before he began the production.  Many of his notes were concerned with Action (Merlin, Toolkit 133). Stanislavski stated, “Action is the chief element of our art – genuine, organic, productive, expedient action” (133). Stanislavsky found that his work was often invigorated by a small Action,

  • I could quote innumerable instances which have occurred in my own experience.[…] Something unexpected [is] injected into the stale, routine acting of a play. A  chair falls over, an actress drops her handkerchief and it must be picked up, or the business is suddenly altered. These things necessarily call for a small but real actions because they are intrusions emanating from real life. (Stanislavsky, Actor 141)

Merlin states succinctly, “ACTION is both internal/psychological (i.e. a decision or a reaction) and external / physical i.e. a deed or an activity) (137).

Another Element is Justification. There is a reason for every Action on stage, from removing a piece of lint from a gown to strangling a mortal enemy. Finding the reason behind one’s actions are one’s Justifications. Benedetti provides a stark contrast between two characters to define Justification, “Merely copying someone’s external characteristics is not acting.  The characteristics must have a reason, a basis in the total life of the person, they must be justified. Richard III and Quasimodo were both hunchbacks but they were different hunchbacks” (Benedetti, Actor 97).

Concentration is not only critical for the actor as he works to focus on the reality on stage while he stands in front of a live audience; Concentration is also invaluable for directing the audiences attention to issues critical to the play (32). It is riveted to things that interest a person.  Stanislavsky stated, “In order to get away from the auditorium you must be interested in something on the stage” (Stanislavsky, Actor 75).

Another Element that deepens life on stage is Imagination. Stanislavsky states, “[There] is no such thing as actuality on the stage.  Art is a product of the imagination.[…] The aim of the actor should be to use his technique to turn the play into a theatrical reality.  In this process Imagination plays by far the greatest part” (54). In stating this, Stanislavsky conveniently defines what we understand acting to be. In acting we use our imagination to assign reality to, conditions, situations and states which are not real to lend an imagined reality to what is not literally true. Related to Imagination is another Element in his “system”, i.e., the power of If or as some have called it, The Magic If. Stanislavsky links the Imagination and If in this way, “You know now that our work on a play begins with the use of if as a lever to lift us out of everyday life on to the plane of imagination” (54).

If takes the words of the author off the page and places them in a personal context for the actor. For example, If I were a legless man in the wheel chair underneath an overpass, what would I do? Stanislavsky shows how If bridges the gap between the actor and the text: “The circumstances which are predicted on ‘if’ are taken form sources near to our own feelings, and they have a powerful influence on [your] inner life. […] Once you have established this contract between your life and your part, you will find the inner push or stimulus (Stanislavsky, Actor 49). If allows us to take the Given Circumstances from the play and ask, what if those Given Circumstances were a reality for me?

Merlin provides a succinct definition for Given Circumstances, “GIVEN CIRCUMSTANCES consist of all the data you can glean from the script plus the physical conditions of the actual production as determined by the director and the medium (stage, screen, radio, etc.)” (67).  She cites Stanislavsky in regard to Given Circumstances and Action, “[We] artists must realize the truth that even small physical movements, when injected into given circumstances, acquire great significance through the influence of emotion” (Stanislavski, Actor 49). The actor’s ability to bring emotion out in his part is aided by Emotion Memory. This is a key term for future sections of the paper.  Emotion Memory will have great significance when I analyze the work of Lee Strasberg and the rest of the teacher practitioners.

Before I move to Emotion Memory, I will cover the cues to Given Circumstances. We understand Given Circumstances through Six Fundamental Questions. According to Merlin, these six questions were underplayed in the English translation of An Actor Prepares. During her acting training in Russia, they were emphasized. In The Actor’s Toolkit, she lists the basic questions that Stanislavsky encourages an actor to ask about his or her character: Who, When, Where, Why, For What Reason and How (101).

In An Actor Prepares, Tortsov instructs his actors that, “[We] must have, first of all, an unbroken series of supposed circumstances […]. Either of the external circumstances which surround us […] or of an inner chain of circumstances which we ourselves have imagined in order to illustrate our parts” [sic] (64). This “chain of circumstances” is the answer to the Six Fundamental Questions. Benedetti lists the Six Fundamental Questions in this way: “Whence: Where have I just come from? Where: Where am I? What: What am I doing? When: When is this happening? What time of day, month, year? In which period? Whither: Where am I going to now” (Benedetti, Actor 7 – 8). From these Six Fundamental Questions one can go deep into the Given Circumstances of the character. By fully understanding the character’s Given Circumstances the actor can empathize with his character more fully. The actor, in the Stanislavsky ‘“system”’ also makes a bridge between themselves and the character through Emotion Memory.

Emotion Memory goes by different names. It has been called affective memory, emotion recall and sense memory (Merlin, Toolkit 142). This Element in Stanislavsky’s “system” became a source of tension between Stanislavsky and Strasberg.  It also created a rift between Strasberg and the two other teacher practitioners, Adler and Meisner (Benedetti, Introduction 99).

Stanislavsky first came across the term Affective Memory in the work of the psychologist Theodule Ribot in his, Problemes de Psychologie Affective (Benedetti, Introduction 46).  Benedetti relates the psychological theory behind the term,

  • According to his theories, the nervous system bears the traces of all previous experiences.  They are recorded in the mind although not always available.  An immediate stimulus – a touch, a sound, a smell – can trigger off the memory.  It is possible to recreate past events, to relive past emotions, vividly.  Not only that; similar experiences tend to merge.  The memory of a particular incident can evoke memories of similar incidents, similar feelings.  Experiences of love, hate, envy, fear, come together, they are distilled so that an individual can experience an overwhelming emotion apparently unrelated to any particular event. (46)

Using the trigger mentioned above, Stanislavsky found a pathway to the subconscious or superconcious as he called it (Stanislavski, Life 168). If the sensory input (heat, cold, noise) that surrounded a moment of great emotion could be recalled, then the sensations could trigger the intense emotion to occur in the actor (Benedetti, Introduction 46). Through Emotion Memory Stanislavsky found a way to reach into an area of the mind that could not be controlled directly, the subconscious, and encourage it to hold forth emotions and, therefore, inspired acting as he defined it (Stanislavski, Life 166).

In An Actor Prepares Stanislavsky’s professor character, Tortsov introduces Emotion Memory by way of contrast.  He invites the students to perform an exercise they’ve done many times before. They are to imagine there is a lunatic at the door trying to get in. When they first performed the exercise, their reaction was strong and “real”. The students attempted to repeat the exercise with as much energy and dismay as they did the first time they performed it. But they didn’t have the same vigorous response as when they first did the exercise.  Tortsov then scolds his students for abandoning their natural responses to the lunatic at the door and adopting an external form that only represents their original response, “[A] ready-made external form is a terrible temptation to an actor. It is not surprising that novices like you should have felt it and at the same time that you should have proved that you have a good memory for external action.  As for emotion memory: there was no sign of it today” (Stanislavski, Prepares 166).

In a passage from An Actor Prepares Tortsov “checks” Kostya’s Emotion Memory by asking him to recall a performance of a great actor that he once saw. Tortsov wonders if Kostya can regain the initial excitement and flush of emotions he had over the actor’s performance.  Then the teacher moves on to the death of a close friend whom Kostya lost, “What do you feel either spiritually or physically, when you recall the tragic death of the intimate friend you told me about” (Stanislavsky, Prepares 167).

Tortsov then clarifies the difference between Sense Memory and Emotion Memory. Sense Memory is recalling the sensations around the Emotional Memory, not the original emotional moment itself (168). He also lays out the potential that Emotion Memory has to access nature, or one could say, the nature that is present fully in our subconscious. He contrasts those actors dependent on nature to those who use technique to merely reproduce nature,

  • Yet the most perfectly developed technique cannot be compared with the art of  nature. I have seen many famous technical actors of many schools and many lands, in my day, and none of them could reach the height to which artistic intuition, under the guidance of nature, is capable of ascending. We must not overlook the fact that many important sides of our complex nature are neither known to us nor subject to our conscious direction. Only nature has access to them. Unless we enlist her aid we must be content with only a partial rule over our complicated creative apparatus. (169 – 170)

From these episodes in his writings came the controversy about Emotion Memory.  I will examine later how Stanislavsky’s Method of Physical Action, potentially takes emphasis away from Emotional Memory. I will also investigate in the Strasberg section how Emotion Memory dominated his version of Stanislavsky’s “system”. Strasberg called that version The Method.

In 1906, Stanislavsky wrote to his friend, Vera Kotlyaresvskaya. He listed for her the three Elements in his “system” that he thought were most important, “[What] fascinates me most is the rhythm of feelings, the development of the emotion memory and the psycho-physiology of the creative process” (Merlin, Toolkit 138). Merlin defines Tempo Rhythm, “At its most simple, ‘tempo’ is the speed at which you carry out an action, and ‘rhythm is the intensity with which you carry it out” (Merlin 139). Said another way, Tempo Rhythm is the degree of agitation that an emotional state creates. For example, one could be racing against a clock to disarm a bomb; that is one Tempo Rhythm. Another Tempo Rhythm is sitting on a porch in a rocking chair drinking tea and reading a soothing novel. Stanislavsky puts it this way, “To stand and watch for a mouse – that is one rhythm; to watch a tiger that is creeping up on you is quite another (Merlin 140).

In his “system”, Stanislavsky wove all these things together within this Element the Super Objective. Benedetti in Stanislavsky & The Actor states, “[At] the root of a play is a theme, or subject, what the play is about, the reason it was written, the goal to which all the individual tasks which actors perform are directed” (98). Related to the Super Objective in the play is the Through Action of each individual character. (Some call it the Through Line of Action.) All the Actions that an actor performs as a character add up to the character’s Through Action. Another character in the play will have a Counter Action (Benedetti, Actor 98 – 99). The opposing Through Actions and Counter Actions create the conflict of the play.

The concepts behind the Method of Physical Action were solidified in the last five years of Stanislavsky’s life (Merlin 185). Stanislavsky defined the principal behind this element through an example from Macbeth.

  •  With what is Lady Macbeth occupied at the culminating point of her tragedy? The simple physical act of washing a spot of blood off her hand.[…] In real life also many of the great moments of emotion are signalized by some ordinary, small, natural movement.[…] The significance of physical acts in highly tragic or dramatic moments is […] that the simpler they are, the easier it is to grasp them.[…] By approaching emotion in this way, you avoid all forcing and your result is natural, intuitive, and complete. (Stanislavski, Handbook 8)

For her definition of Method of Physical Actions, Bella Merlin states simply, “Physical ACTIONS affect EMOTIONS, and EMOTIONS provoke physical ACTIONS. The inner and the outer are entirely coordinated” (185). Benedetti in Stanislavski & The Actor details the fundamentals of The Method of Physical Action with two principles. First ‘I’ as the actor must know the Given Circumstances of the play and what they mean to my character. Secondly, when the actor is secure in the Given Circumstances, he goes through a deliberate thought process by deciding what I as the Real “I” would do about the situations in the play that the Dramatic “I” experiences. It is As If, the Real “I” (myself) were the character. What Actions would I take in light of the Given Circumstances in the play? By making those decisions, “and believing in the truth of my decided upon Actions, I release my creative energies and my natural emotional responses organically, without forcing, without falling into familiar acting clichés. In Stanislavsky’s words I go through the conscious to the subconscious” (Benedetti, Actor 4 – 5).

The Method of Physical Action is considered by some to be the culmination of Stanislavsky’s work. Others see it as a part of his earlier ‘“system”’ that was more heavily based in psychological considerations. Merlin offers an explanation for his focus on physical actions and the body as “[…] something of a survival tactic, as well as an artistic belief.  Under the Soviet regime, anything psychological was considered to be dangerously idealist and decadent.  So the Socialist Realist artists sought to illustrate in their work that human beings were proactive, ‘doing’ creatures […]” (186).

“Stanislavsky’s greatness lay in the constant growth of his artistic sensibilities. He never hesitated to throw over the outworn enthusiasms of his past. At the age of sixty-three he could still astonish the world by his youthfulness. But it was a different kind of youthfulness; it was steeped in wisdom and experience and drew its inspiration from the living well of the human heart” (Benedetti, Life 370).

As Stanislavsky neared the end of his life, the idea of the Through Line of Action of a play was more and more on his mind.  He stated,

  • Creative work […] not linked by common action, are like pearls thrown haphazardly on a table. Thread them and put a rich clasp at the end and you will get a string of pearls.[…] We must link all the elements (the pearls) together into one whole, thread them on the general line (the string), which in our stage parlance we call ‘through-action […]” (373).

He defined this element specifically as “[The] main theme […]. It gave birth to the writing of the play. It should also be the fountainhead of the actor’s artistic creation” (Stanislavsky, Handbook 145). In fact, Stanislavsky regretted not examining the Through Line of Action earlier. Before he wrote his book on the “system”, The Actor’s Work on Himself, he said,

  • When you read my book […] you must keep in mind that at the time I wrote it I was not able to start at once with the ruling idea and through action […]. In a play, you are given an extract of life, and the through-action passes through it like a fairway. Everything that goes along that fairway is important. Everything must lead to it and through it to the ruling idea.[…] The smallest detail, if it is not related to the ruling idea, becomes superfluous and harmful and is liable to divert the attention from the essential point of the play. (Magarshack, Life 372)

Stanislavsky’s focus on the Through Line of Action changed him as a director, too. He came to believe it was the playwright’s ruling idea that governed the production as a whole. Stanislavsky said,

  •  Just as a plant grows out of a seed, so too in exactly the same way do the writer’s  work grow out of his independent thoughts and feeling. The thoughts, feelings and dreams of the writer, with which his life is filled and which agitate his heart, put him onto the path of creativity. They become the basis of the play. It is for them that the writer writes his literary work. All of his life experience, his joys, his griefs, which he himself has borne and observed in his life, become the basis of the dramatic work. It is for the sake of them that he takes up his pen.  (Merlin 220)

This insight into the literary mind was a departure from a man who was not considered to have an understanding of literature. As emphasized earlier, he had purposefully given the right of veto over literary matters to Danchenko when they formed the Moscow Art Theatre (Benedetti, Life 153). Benedetti characterized Stanislavsky’s early literary limitations in this way; “[The] trouble was that Stanislavsky’s ‘primitive literary conceptions’ prevented him from discovering the inner meaning of a play […]” (Magarshack, Life 174).

His new emphasis on the playwright’s Through Line of Action was also a departure from his early days at the Society of Art and Literature. At the Society he and his mentor Fedotov worked as producers. The producer of Stanislavsky’s time executed many duties more closely aligned to the present day director (Magarshack, Life 56 – 57). Benedetti describes how Fedotov and Stanislavsky worked at the Society of Art and Literature;

  •  If an idea that gave great scope to the producer did not agree with the intentions of the author then the play was forcibly cast into another mold. The producer in such case became not only the co-author of the play but the adapter of it.[…] Stanislavsky often found the text a great hindrance to his own conception of the plays plot and characters. But by judicious cutting the play was eventually strait-jacketed into what the producer thought to be its right shape. (57)

In his early days as a director, Stanislavsky remade a playwright’s work to his own taste and he treated an actor more like a puppet than a creative individual in his own right (174). Benedetti explained, “For if […] the producer’s imagination is to be given pre-eminence, then quite naturally the producer has to impose his own conception of the characters on the actors who […] sacrifice their own creative conception and force themselves to play the producer’s characters” (57). This style of treating the actors like mannequins earned many Russian producers the title of “producer-autocrat” (71). “In 1890 and during the first dozen or so years of the Moscow Art Theatre, it was […] the type of discipline that Stanislavsky admired and insisted on” (71). Stanislavsky admits, “[…] I became a producer-autocrat myself and many Russian producers began imitating me.[…] Theatrical managers who treated the actors as if they were props as mere pawns to be moved about as they liked […] (71). Stanislavski explained further that the producer-autocrat would develop “the whole plan of the production, he indicated the general outlines of the parts, taking into consideration, of course, the participating actors, and he showed them all the ‘business’” (Stanislavsky, Handbook 98).

In his final days he rejected the producer-autocrat who imposed his “ready made mise-en-scene on the actor” (373). The mise-en-scene was a producer-autocrat’s schematic for the play. He stated, “[The] old method of mise-en-scene belongs to the producer-autocrat against whom I am fighting now” (374).

Stanislavsky’s break with his producer-autocrat style, was firmly in evidence when the First Studio was established in January of 1913 (Magarshack, Life 330). This was the Studio that practiced the type of improvisation that he and Maxim Gorky had dreamed about in Capri. Stanislavsky posted a sign in the theatre, “Anyone wishing to read something, to appear in a scene from a play, to submit scale models of sets, to demonstrate the results of his researches in stage technique, or to offer some literary material for the stage, should put down his name in a special book kept for that purpose in the hall of the studio” (333). He was no longer the manipulator dictating the actors’ performances. He was open to suggestions.

Stanislavsky’s Through Line of Action emphasis also led him to a deeper definition of inspiration. “He spent the summer of 1935 at a sanatorium near Moscow, completing his program for the new Dramatic and Operatic Studio” (388). He had received permission to open this studio in 1934 (387). He spoke to some of the Studio members who visited him at the sanatorium. He laid out his system to them like a building with four stories or “four planes of perception” (388). Those who could use all of his many elements had reached the first story. If the actor can create a through action he has reached the second story. The third story was the “ruling-ruling idea of the actor-man himself” (388). He gave an example of Tolstoy’s own personal ruling idea, which was “self-betterment and self-purification” (388). And finally,

  • The fourth storey [sic] of our art is the sphere of the subconscious. It can only be reached when the actor has become the master of his technique to such an extent that he need no longer think of it and can give himself up entirely to inspiration and intuition. The wave from the ocean of the subconscious reaches us only occasionally, rolling up to us in moments of the highest creative enthusiasm, but the actor of the future, having mastered the technique of his art, will be able to bathe in this ocean freely. (388)

In 1936, Stanislavsky asked, “What does it signify, to write down what is past and done. The “system” lived in me but it has no shape or form. The “system” is created in the very act of writing it down. That is why I have to keep changing what I have already written (Benedetti, Actor 1). He died two years later, August 7, 1938 (Benedetti, Introduction 96).

I will now examine the path Strasberg took to formulate his Method from his knowledge of Stanislavsky’s “system”. Strasberg is considered to be the teacher practitioner who had the most influence on how the American actor received the ideas of Stanislavsky.

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III. LEE STRASBERG’S PATH TO STANISLAVSKI

Lee Strasberg recognized inspired acting by the actors he witnessed on stage.  In A Dream of Passion he tells a story of the Group Theater participants in their early years before their famous ensemble formed.  Strasberg watched a performance by the actor Giovanni Grasso that he considered to be the pinnacle of acting.  He invited acquaintances including Stella Adler to see the artist at work in the play La Morte Civile. As Grasso began to play poorly Strasberg sank lower in his seat embarrassed at his recommendation of the performance.  Then inspiration transformed Grasso.  Strasberg remarked,

  • I have seen inspired performances, but I have not seen the moment of inspiration strike as suddenly as it did then. He touched her, and the touch seemed to create impulse. This wasn’t acting: this was real – real blood, real bursting of blood vessels.  From that moment on, his face, his whole body, and his entire performance changed.  I sat upright in my chair, willing to take bows. (Strasberg 26)

Strasberg’s uncertainty over how to elicit performances like Grasso’s from himself or others, led him to Denis Diderot’s The Paradox of Acting. The fact that Stanislavsky had made mention of the essay in his autobiography, My Life In Art, also drew Strasberg to Diderot’s writings. In A Dream of Passion, Strasberg cites Diderot’s characterization of an actress of his day Mme. Le Clairon; “‘Why was it that when she returned to the stage after a ten year absence she played but moderately?  Had she lost her soul, her sensibility, her heart?’  What she had lost, Diderot suggested, ‘was the memory of her methods’. I realized that what must have attracted Stanislavski to Diderot’s essay was the demand for a method of creativity” (34). Strasberg believed Stanislavsky must have read the same statement and felt compelled to create his “system”. Strasberg characterized his reaction to the Diderot’s essay and its links to Stanislavsky in this way:  “This need for a method of consistently arriving at creativity seemed to point to an answer that I myself had been looking for” (33-34).

When Strasberg saw the Moscow Art Theatre’s 1923-24 seasons, he was drawn in further. He says of the performances, “I doubt that the minute, detailed moment-to-moment aliveness on the stage represented by and participated in by every member of the cast will ever be achieved again […]” (39). Strasberg also embraced Stanislavsky’s technical terms for his acting techniques such as Affective Memory. He called the actor’s Affective Memories  “‘golden keys’, which unlocked some of the greatest moments in acting” (Garfield 15). In Stanislavsky’s work and that of the MAT, Strasberg finally saw a path to achieving the inspired acting that he saw Giovanni Grasso accomplish in La Morte Civile. He stated “The decisive step in my search for a solution to the actor’s problem was the appearance of the Moscow Art Theatre in 1923-24” (Strasberg 36).

David Garfield in A Players Place relates that, in 1923, “Strasberg attended the Moscow Art Theater’s (MAT) premiere season of productions at Al Jolson’s Fifty-ninth Street Theatre. It demonstrated concretely to Strasberg that the ideas about the theater and acting he was assimilating from his reading and thinking could become a tangible reality” (8). He goes on to say, “Strasberg saw every one of these productions [in the second season], most of the others, [in the first season] and a number of them more than once” (8). Strasberg was not taken by any particular actor’s performance but the “three dimensional totality of living on the stage by every one of the actors” (9). Strasberg also read all he could about the MAT (8).

When he spoke about the Diderot comments on Mme. Le Clairon, Strasberg referenced a method or a technique that would take an actor from uninspired acting to inspired or emotion filled acting, i.e., the kind of acting Stanislavsky saw his mentor Fedotov perform. “Fedotov lived organically…. Fedotov had real, living life; I had only a report of that life” (Stanislavsky, Life 164). As stated earlier, Stanislavsky called his theories a “system” Strasberg called his the Method (Strasberg 60). What was Strasberg’s Method?  He stated simply, “[The] Method is really a continuation of and addition to Stanislavsky’s system [sic] in Russia” (Strasberg 6).

To understand what Strasberg thought, he added to Stanislavsky’s ideas one must understand the work of other members of the Moscow Art Theatre. Strasberg learned about Stanislavsky’s “system” from Richard Boleslavsky and Maria Ousepenskay at their American Laboratory Theatre in New York, a school that some have characterized as “one of the many splinter groups […] that came originally to Stanislavsky to study and learn from the Master, eventually leaving and forming their own schools and theatres” (Dwight 145).

Boleslavsky and Ouspenskaya grappled with the new form of Stanislavsky’s system, The Method of Physical Action, “the radical revision of his approach to the problems of acting and directing which he announced on his return form Finland in 1906 […]” (Benedetti, Introduction 97). They were both members of the First Studio. The First Studio was a new studio for actors that Stanislavsky opened up under the auspices of the MAT. He used this school to refine his Method of Physical action. Older members of the MAT were not accepting of his new theory. He hoped the Method of Physical action would thrive with the younger actors who populated the school (97).

Eventually, Boleslavsky and Ouspenskaya found their own ways to express Stanislavsky’s ideas. Some of their teachings aligned directly with Stanislavsky, others broadened how the techniques in his “system” were defined and applied. I will step back and see how Strasberg sifted through the ideas of The Moscow Art Theater’s members to reach his interpretation of Stanislavsky’s “system”.

Development of The Method

As Strasberg nears the conclusion of his book A Dream of Passion he states, “The continuation and consolidation of Stanislavsky’s and Vakhtangov’s discoveries became the basis of the Method” (175). Eugene Vakhtangov was a founding member of the First Studio “where improvisation became an essential feature of its training” (Benedetti, Introduction 64). For Strasberg, the messengers of Vakhtangov’s interpretation of Stanislavsky were Boleslavsky and Ouspenskaya. Both worked alongside Vakhtangov at the First Studio (Garfield, Players 11).

According to Strasberg, Boleslavsky was, “heavily influenced by his contact with Vakhtangov, who was the definitive teacher of the “system”, even in Stanislavski’s eyes till his death in 1922” (Garfield, Place 10). Strasberg asserts that he continued Vakhtangov’s work.  “How much Vakhtangov radically altered or transformed the Stanislavsky’s System’s basic teachings is debatable” (Gordon 101). In 1914 the first play he directed at the MAT, Festival of Peace made Stanislavsky, “white with fury” (Magarshack, Life 334). What Vakhtangov did had violated one of Stanislavsky’s tenets; “[…] in presenting the dark sides of life, the producer and actor must always look for its brighter side” (334).  

Vakhtangov was Stanislavsky’s prized student and it was thought that he had tried “out-Stanislavskying Stanislavsky” (Gordon 44). The performers in Vakhtangov’s Festival of Peace, “produced authentic and pathetic emotional states that provoked a wave of hysteria in its spectators. All agreed that it was an abuse of the System and the trust of a sympathetic audience” (45). But later Vakhtangov was awarded his own studio, i.e., the Third Studio (356). His culminating achievement was a fairy tale comedy, Princess Turandot. It was an improvised version of the play (356).

This brief account of part of Vakhtangov’s career emphasizes the two techniques of Stanislavsky that Vakhtangov seemed to further or at least emphasize: Improvisation and Affective Memory.  Vakhtangov said, “[Everything] that the actor does on stage is, whether he knows it or not, affective memory” (Garfield 17).

As far as the techniques of Stanislavsky were concerned, the specific definitions of Emotion Memory, Improvisation, Relaxation, Concentration etc. remained consistent as it passed between Vakhtangov, Boleslavsky and Ouspenskaya and ultimately to Strasberg.  What changed was the emphasis given to specific techniques.  For example, Boleslavsky expanded on Stanislavsky’s ideas when he presented Relaxation in this way.  He called it “spiritual relaxation”, a way of “overcoming the inner pressures and distractions of modern life” (14). To create this “spiritual relaxation” the actor would

  • […] concentrate on past sensory experiences such as handling a personal object (e.g., a childhood toy) or wearing a familiar piece of clothing, to the point where the remembered sensation elicited an emotional response from the actor to the exclusion of actual stimulation coming from the outside. This arousing of feelings through imaginary stimuli – what would generally come to be called sense- memory exercises – was to play a very important role in Strasberg’s work (14).

Boleslavsky used another term “spiritual concentration”. This was the actor’s ability to say to his emotions, “[Stop] and fill my entire being” (14)! By giving broader meaning to Stanislavsky’s elements was Boleslavsky actually changing them? Without fundamentally changing the “system”, Vakhtangov, Boleslavsky and Strasberg still took most techniques and exercises back to Affective Memory, thereby emphasizing it.

David Garfield in A Players Place asserts, “Strasberg’s attention to Affective Memory and his insistence on its primary importance in the actor’s creative work was to become the hallmark of his pedagogy.[…] He would argue affective memory was the central concept because it was what made possible the actors ability to really experience on stage” (16).

Essence of the Method

From the title of his book, A Dream of Passion, we can glean Strasberg’s focus. The title is taken from a soliloquy of Hamlet’s. Hamlet marvels at an actor’s ability to weep over Hecuba, while Hamlet himself, has so much more to weep over.

Is it not monstrous that this player here,

But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,

Could force his soul so to his own conceit

That from her working all his visage waned,

Tears in his eyes, distraction in his aspect,

A broken voice, and his whole function suiting

With forms to his conceit? And all for nothing!

For Hecuba! (Shakespeare, Hamlet Act II, Sc.2)

Strasberg was searching for a means to evoke that “dream of passion” from the actors of his day.  He found the means in Stanislavsky’s “system”.

Like Stanislavsky, Strasberg complained that none of the great artists of the theatre had written down a process to repeat what they had accomplished.  Stanislavsky stated that they were only, “random thoughts uttered by Shakespeare, Moliere, Ekholm, Schroeder, Goethe, Lessing […] But all these valuable opinions and advices are not systematized, and are not reduced to one common denominator, and therefore the facts remains that fundamentals which might guide the teacher of our art are missing” (Stanislavsky, Life 166).  Strasberg agreed: “[We] have had instances of great acting and great actors, but few accounts from either the performers themselves or their critics as to how such greatness was achieved or of the procedures necessary to create or recreate it.  Before the discoveries of the great Russian director Constantin Stanislavsky, all acting was thought to be either inspirational or external” (Strasberg, Dream 5).

Strasberg also expressed his concern over actors with inconsistent inspiration and inconsistent access to emotion filled, life like acting. Here he again references the actor Ben-Ami who was outstanding in Samson and Delilah but uninspired in Spiegelmensch. “Without fully realizing it, I was beginning to be aware of a basic problem in acting which I was to observe many times again: the problem of inspiration. This was long before I had any knowledge of how it could be solved” (21). In A Dream of Passion Strasberg recounts Stanislavsky’s return to Moscow after his hiatus in Finland, the hiatus when Stanislavski began to formalize his “system”:

  • The forty-three-year-old Stanislavsky returned to Moscow and embarked on the solution to the problem that was to become his obsession.[…] He had become aware that creativity on the stage demanded first of all a special condition , which he called “the creative mood”.[…] This creative mood did not seem to be subject to the control of the actor’s will. It was considered inspiration, a gift of the gods. Nevertheless, Stanislavsky asked himself, “are there no technical means for the creation of the creative mood so that inspiration may appear oftener than is its wont?” (Strasberg, Dream 50)

Through the application of specific techniques from Stanislavsky’s “system”, Strasberg began his efforts to solve the same problem.
“The Method, as developed by Strasberg over the years, begins with two fundamental elements of the “system”, which Strasberg considers among Stanislavski’s greatest and most essential discoveries: Relaxation and Concentration” (Garfield 169).

Strasberg’s exercise for Relaxation started with an actor in a chair. Whether the chair was comfortable or not was not an issue. When the actor performed in a play, he would face all sorts of uncomfortable conditions.  Whatever condition he faced on stage the actor would always have to be relaxed. An uncomfortable chair was a kind of example for any uncomfortable conditions that might occur on stage.

Ever aware of emotion, Strasberg gave a release valve to the actor in the Relaxation exercise. If strong emotion came up while relaxing, the actor was to release it by making a sound “from deep in the chest […] to make sure the emotion is not blocked.” (169).  Finally the actor’s relaxation is “tested by the teacher, and he is then permitted to proceed with various exercises or scenes” (169).

Regarding Concentration, Strasberg combined this with Emotion Memory, “[The] concentration exercises focus on objects, on place, and on the sense of touch. You concentrate on

an object you know very well, examining the weight of it, how it feels warm on your fingers, the look of it, what you see. You pay attention to things that you know so well that you don’t have to think about them—the smell, the taste. That’s concentration on simple realities” (Bartow 19). The exercises Strasberg employed for Concentration could be as simple as “handling imaginary objects through sense memory.[…] To re-create a morning drink – coffee or orange juice – by trying to recapture the sensory stimuli of the feel of the cup or glass, its shape and weight, the odor and taste […]” (Garfield 169). This exercise utilized Sense Memory or the ability to remember the sensations around an emotional event. This was critical to Strasberg’s Emotion Memory work. The aim of that work was not to remember the emotional event directly but to remember the sensations around it. Remembering those were the access points or triggers to the emotional event.

The actor could add other more complex Actions to the handling of imaginary objects. Such as imaginary shaving, applying imaginary make-up, “[experiencing] extremes of heat and cold; [or] “overall sensations, such as sunshine, snow, or a shower […]” (170). The point of this work was to actually experience the objects or the activities, not just to mime drinking the coffee but also to literally feel the heat and taste the taste. “The memory of a lemon’s sensorial elements […] can provoke actual salivation” (170).

This type of Concentration exercise related directly to Boleslavsky’s “spiritual concentration” where the actor concentrates on “past sensory experiences such as handling a personal object (e.g., a childhood toy) or wearing a familiar piece of clothing […]” (14). These Concentration exercises, “develop not only the performer’s concentration, but his awareness, sensitivity, imagination and expressiveness as well” (170).

Strasberg stated, “[We] don’t do any of the emotional work in the first year—we just go back to rediscover and reconnect with the senses” (Bartow 20). While reconnecting with the senses, the actor is also doing scene work. Doing Concentration/Sense Memory exercises and the scene work the actor is, “gradually learning how to integrate the sensory study with his performing” (Garfield 170).

Strasberg adopted one exercise directly from Boleslavsky and Ouspenskaya called the Gibberish Exercise, “two people play a scene using nonsense sounds instead of words. It is designed to wean actors away from the cliché handling of lines […]” (171). Another concept was taken directly from Stanislavsky’s contention that an actor should have Dual Consciousness, i.e., while you acted you watched and evaluated your own performance (Stanislavsky, Character 21). Strasberg called it Double Consciousness.

Another exercise Strasberg developed was called the Private Moment. This exercise caused a great deal of criticism to be leveled against Strasberg. Garfield describes that criticism in A Player’s Place, “[Of] all Strasberg’s innovations, perhaps none has been so misunderstood […] as the “private moment.”[…] It has been the object of much reckless speculation and gossip of the “immodest prying into succulent privacies in sexual or scatological display, exhibitionist in motive and potentially dangerous to sensitive actors” (172). Strasberg created the private moment in light of a comment by Stanislavsky that the actor needed to be “private in public” (172).

In the exercise the actor performs whatever act he would stop if someone were to come into the room. The actor can bring objects to the stage that makes him feel that he is in a private place. “The exercise would allow them [the actors] to prevail over their inhibitions and enter entirely new areas of expression […] the exercise [is] an especially useful tool in staging certain special moments such as soliloquies, monologues, and other instances when a person is left alone on stage” (173).

Garfield further details common criticism of the Private Moment exercise, “[With] the liberalization of screen and stage mores during the seventies […] nudity in the private moment, which would not have been tolerated earlier were allowed on occasion, though never in an atmosphere of flippancy or sensationalism” (174).

Finally, Affective Memory, as has been stated was integral to Strasberg’s Method. Affective Memory was defined in the Stanislavsky section. What is important to note in this section is that Strasberg made Emotion Memory not just an element of his Method but also the primary element. As Clurman stated in The Fervent Years, “The system […] represented […] the open-sesame of the actor’s art. Here at last was a key to that elusive ingredient of the stage, true emotion. And Strasberg was a fanatic on the subject of true emotion. Everything was secondary to it.[…] It was revelation in the theatre; and Strasberg was its prophet” (44-45).

Jean Benedetti in Stanislavski: An Introduction, offers a criticism of making Emotion Memory the central premise of an acting Technique. To begin with he finds fault with Boleslavsky who taught Strasberg the system but only because Boleslavsky was ignorant of The Method of Physical Action. He states that Boleslavsky’s “exposition of the System is clear and coherent but he was necessarily unaware of the last phase of Stanislavsky’s activity.[…]” (98). That is because Boleslavsky immigrated to American after Stanislavsky began to teach The Method of Physical action.

Stella Adler, in 1934, after a fateful meeting with Stanislavsky in Paris, informed Strasberg of The Method of Physical Action. Strasberg rejected it. As a result Benedetti states, “[Strasberg’s] Method tends to replace the given circumstances by the Actor’s biography, the character’s psychology by the actor’s personality. The actor does not restructure elements of himself to reveal the meaning of the text so much as draw the text within the ambit of his own experience” (99).

Garfield in A Players Place offers a defense against those who assert that by creating the Method of Physical action Stanislavski dismissed Affective or Emotion Memory, “[The] phenomenon of emotion memory was never challenged. Stanislavski’s “final” theory simply argued that properly chosen and executed physical actions would somehow subconsciously connect with the actor’s memory of affect and safely release the appropriate emotion as necessary” (177).

Garfield also questions the effectiveness of The Method of Physical Action. He asserts that this element as a new revelation after the “system” was not tested as the “system” was, “Stanislavski never tested the Method of Physical Action on himself in production, as he did with earlier procedures” (178). He further states that the production of Tartuffe, where Stanislavsky tested his new theory, was a failure (178). Finally, he notes that Strasberg argued “if the application of the procedures is any test, the moribund reputation of the Moscow Art Theater, which under its former director, Kedrov, was run with an extreme emphasis of the “final techniques,’ might indicate that the Method of Physical Actions is a procedure that has not lived up to expectations” (178).

Ownership: System vs. Method

In A Dream of Passion Strasberg feels its necessary to note that his Method is a “continuation and consolidation of Stanislavsky’s and Vakhtangov’s discoveries.[…]” (175).  He seems to add an asterisk to Stanislavsky’s accomplishments.  Soon I will examine what that asterisk is.

As his book ends, Strasberg offers what seems to be his main criticism of Stanislavsky, “Stanislavsky’s work, interpreted in the light of Stanislavsky’s achievement, can appear to be limited to the realist style. Even Stanislavsky’s effort in the realm of elevated style or fantasy would tend to strengthen that opinion. On the other hand, Vakhtangov’s equally valiant and brilliant use of the same procedures was inspired by a theatrical vision, which he called fantastic realism (175 – 176).

Strasberg goes on to cite the Group Theatre as being able to “apply the procedures of its actor training and arrive at different theatrical results – in our case, in plays that ranged from a new thirties realism to sharp musical satire, such as Johnny Johnson” (176).  His contention was that, like Vakhtangov who created ‘fantastic realism’, he, Strasberg, had overcome the limits of  Stanislavsky’s “system”, that inability to execute plays in an “elevated style” or “fantasy”.

With this assertion Strasberg missed a production in Stanislavsky’s canon. Stanislavsky produced, or as we would say today, directed a play called The Blue Bird. The Blue Bird was a play in which “Stanislavsky once again showed how inexhaustible his imagination was in the production of a fairy story” (Magarshack, Life 310). Stanislavsky’s production of this fantasy was so successful that a famous French actress, Gabrielle Rejane, “who had seen Stanislavsky’s production and who was anxious to put on Maeterlinck’s play at her Paris theatre according to Stanislavsky’s mise-en-scene” (319). As stated earlier the mise-en-scene is a director’s complete design for a production, down to the blocking of the actors (Stanislavsky, Handbook 98).

A production photo from the The Blue Bird shows actors draped in white, with a masked figure twice as tall as the rest, looming unnaturally over the cast. The masked figure represented Time. The caption describes the picture as representing, “Stanislavsky’s Symbolism in Maeterlincks’s The Blue Bird, 1908. The masked figure of ‘Time’ (Nikolai Znamensky) is surrounded by the ‘Souls of the Unborn.’ Notice the abstract costumes, sculptural grouping of figures and the absence of a set. This production was staged when Stanislavsky began to grapple with the principles of his System. The production ran continuously throughout the twentieth century, and over time became a fairy – tale for children […]” (Carnicke 116, Figure 9). So Stanislavsky, made famous by the Realist productions of Anton Chekov did not limit himself to just Realism. The long run of this play full of Symbolism, its appropriation by the French actress with its mise-en-scene intact and its elevation to an actual fairy tale for children, shows that Stanislavsky was indeed successful at non-realistic plays.

Despite Strasberg’s criticism of Stanislavsky, that he was unable to apply the “system” to anything but realism, it was Strasberg whose Method would receive this charge most strongly:

I think the present manifestation of the Method is admirable for certain kind of realistic plays, but I think the onus of the proof of Mr. Strasberg’s theory rests with him and that he and his disciples must produce professional productions of play from Shakespeare, Restoration Comedy, or, say, Giraudoux or almost any of the later French playwrights. (Garfield 180)

Tom Oppenheim in Training of the American Actor characterizes Strasberg’s position between Stanislavsky and the American actor by saying, “Lee Strasberg was the first American to interpret the Stanislavsky system and apply it to American actors in American plays […]” (Bartow 46). He also states, “Stella Adler was the first to diversify methodology” (46). Strasberg represented Stanislavsky’s ideas as presented by the MAT’s First Studio, Vakhtangov and then Boleslavsky (Garfield 167). Adler represented Stanislavsky’s ideas as he began to solidify his Method of Physical Action.

Now I will examine how Adler received and interpreted Stanislavsky’s ideas.

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IV. STELLA ADLER’S PATH TO STANISLAVSKY

Stella Adler’s route to Stanislavsky was a direct one. She met him in Paris. Before their meeting she was introduced to his “system” by Boleslavsky and Ouspenskaya at the American Laboratory Theatre. She joined their theatre in 1925 and studied there for two years (Adler, Technique 118). She also came into contact with Stanislavsky’s concepts at the Group Theatre of which she was a founding member (Meisner 9).  Adler sorted through all the representations of Stanislavsky’s “system” she had experienced. When she did meet him in Paris, she gave her verdict to him directly, “Mr. Stanislavski, I loved the theatre until you came along, and now I hate it” (Adler, Technique 120)! Stanislavsky responded, “[If] the System does not help you, forget it. But perhaps you do not use it properly” (Garfield 33).

Adler had travelled to Paris, because she liked to visit Europe when she was able to (Adler, Technique 118). She was there with Harold Clurman whom she later married. The year was 1934 (Garfield 33). Clurman informed her, “[You] know, Stella, Stanislavski is here” (Adler, Technique 119). They arranged to spend some time with him. After the initially awkward meeting and her emphatic statement about hating the theatre, Stanislavsky agreed to actually work with her. It was on the play, The Gentle Women by Don Powell (120).  The two spent a period of five weeks examining the script and various aspects of his ‘system’ (Garfield 33).

Adler characterized their working relationship; “Stanislavski and I were in the greatest closeness of director and actress, and very soon it was just actor and actress” (Adler, Technique 120)! During their training sessions, Stanislavsky emphasized the use of the actor’s Imagination. Adler explained, “Particularly, he made very clear to me that an actor must have an enormous imagination that is free and not inhibited by self consciousness. I understood that he was very much an actor who was fed by the imagination” (120).

He then explained to Adler “how important it was to use the circumstances” (120). As she represents the conversation, he referenced the Six Fundamental Questions, “He said that where you are is what you are, and how you are, and what you can be. You are in a place that will feed you, that will give you strength, that will give you the ability to do whatever you want” (120).

He also engaged her in an exercise that related to his Method of Physical Action technique, where an actor would string together Actions that a play suggested. He told her to “just do a few things and put a plot around it” (121). Adler strung together a few Actions like, moving to a window and seeing something “in which I was emotionally, immediately involved” (121). She moved to a desk and, “signed her name at the bottom of the letter. Again, I was dramatically, deeply involved with the plot […]” (121).

Stanislavsky confided in her about his performance as Stockmann in Ibsen’s An Enemy of the People, a performance I referenced in his section of this paper. As Stockmann, he had achieved a great artistic triumph only to end up lost in the role, mechanically moving without meaning. Adler said he told her “ it took him ten years to find the part. While he was gathering the Elements for a technique that would make acting easier, he found the answer to the problem that he had essentially experienced as an actor throughout his life […]” (121).

She summed up their time together, “[We] worked intimately on scenes and on improvisations, and I was able to be completely at ease, completely at home. I felt as if I had worked with him for a lifetime. He was gentle and ‘absolutely theatre’: nothing but theatre came through. Kindness and interest – a master with a student” (121). Stanislavsky also summed up the core of what he taught her: “I search in the given circumstances never the feelings. If I try and do the psychological, I force the action. We must attack the psychological from the point of view of the physical life so as not to disturb the feeling.[…] In each psychological action there is some physical element. Search for the line, in terms of the action, not feeling” (Garfield 33).

Adler returned to the Group with her findings concerning Stanislavsky’s emphasis on Given Circumstances, Imagination, and Action and that the actor should “search in the given circumstances [sic] never the feelings” (33). Stanislavsky had outlined the Method of Physical Action for her (Benedetti, Introduction 99). Although Garfield notes, “Stanislavski […] explained to her the centrality of ‘actions and tasks’ […]. However, the precise nature of the changes he was broaching was yet to be clarified, and there were to be four more years during which he would solidify that approach that would formally be tagged ‘the Method of Physical Actions’” (176).

Her explanation of Stanislavsky’s new emphasis on Action over Emotional Memory was “one of the most controversial episodes in the history of the Group […]” (Garfield 33). She brought a chart that outlined all that Stanislavsky had taught her and asserted that “the company [the Group] had been misusing the ‘affective memory’ exercise, which Stanislavski now recommended only as a last resort and that the given circumstances and action, according to the Russian theorist, should be given primary attention” (33).

Strasberg reacted to her news and was “angered by her report and her charge of misuse of the work, and concluded that either she had misunderstood what Stanislavski had told her or that the Russian Master ‘had gone back on himself’” (33). Adler’s confrontation with Strasberg decreased his influence on the Group and led to his eventual withdrawal from its ranks in 1935 (Meisner 10).

For Adler, direct knowledge from the source, Stanislavsky, was power, the power of independence from the grip of Lee Strasberg who was the primary interpreter of Stanislavsky’s “system” for the Group Theatre (Garfield 25). However, Sanford Meisner claimed that Adler considered Strasberg to be an enemy even before the Group began (Meisner 182).   For Adler, ideas were paramount, “Nothing is stronger than The Idea — not Stella, not anybody, not even God” (Adler, Art 26).

Howard Kissel, the editor of Adler’s book The Art of Acting, felt her true design for theatre and the actor was nothing short of Biblical.  He captured her divergence from Strasberg’s inward looking emotional memory emphasis to an outward looking emphasis on action in this way:

  • The emphasis on doing rather than feeling makes the Adler approach more practical. It is reasonable, she – and Stanislavsky – asserted, to expect the actor to be able to perform actions; it is not reasonable to expect him to conjure up emotions. The emphasis on doing also has a very Old Testament quality. What has been seen as the legalistic tone of the Pentateuch stems from its insistence that the deity is not an abstraction. He is a living force who makes specific demands – Thou shalt do this, thou shalt not do that. One affirms one’s faith not merely in prayer or meditation but in very specific actions, like leaving part of one’s field unharvested so the poor can gather it.[…] The notion that actions have profound undercurrents and that the nature of an action is worth quibbling over both underlie Adler’s approach to acting. In this sense her teaching was a secular version of the interpretive battles in which Jews have been engaged for millennia. So were her disputes with the other Group alumni who became teachers.  (Adler Art, Epilogue)

According to Kissel, Adler’s fight against Strasberg’s inward looking version of Stanislavsky’s system was a fight for the nature of the actor, his command (which Adler called “size”), which made him a figure worthy to comment on the world.  She saw theater not just as a distraction but a grand social compact that could ennoble a fallen world, i.e., a mandate for the theatre and the actor that she could not leave in the hands of her intellectual enemy, Strasberg. (Adler Art, Epilogue). She made that clear:

  • I myself was part of the Group Theatre, where the technique was supposedly being used. But as an actress who had a great deal of experience elsewhere, I resented acting with some of the principles that were used at the Group Theatre. Because of this, I became a stranger, I excluded myself from the way in which they rehearsed and the way the plays were directed.[…] They knew that I was against what was happening at the Group Theatre (Adler, Technique 119).

To solidify her own version of the “system”, Adler sorted through all the representations of it that she had experienced and then forged her own path. Despite the praise she heaped on Stanislavsky, she declared her independence from him, too. In fact she told her students:

  • Don’t read his book, because it absolutely makes no sense. He came from a culture entirely alien to yours, and you wont understand it.[…] The Method is something you’ll find through me. I am one of the two million people who have been inspired by it. But my particular contribution will be to make you independent of The Method. You will have the strength to reformulate it and go your own way. (13 – 14)

It is relevant to note that Adler used “Method” to mean Stanislavsky’s “system” and her own version of that “system”.

Essence of Adler’s Technique

Both Stanislavsky’s “system” and Strasberg’s Method inspired Stella Adler. Yet, Ironically, the man whom she denounced – Stanislavsky – dominated her future work. Tom Oppenheim, in his section of Training of the American Actor explains: “Stanislavski […] released her from the obligation to work on feeling in favor of choosing and playing actions and living imaginatively in the given circumstances of the play.[…] Truth was to be found not exclusively in one’s personal past but through one’s imagination and in the given circumstances […]” (Bartow 45).

She moved away Emotion Memory by choosing to focus on an actor’s Actions in the play. To choose Action, she first encouraged her students to answer questions about an Action. The questions were basically the Six Fundamental Questions from Stanislavsky’s “system”. Adler taught that the actor must know specifics about his Given Circumstances in order to commit to an Action. (Adler, Technique 36). Adler stated, “[You] have come to learn how to act, and I keep telling you I want to teach you how not to act – except in a very precise sense of performing actions” (Adler, Art 115).

Her exploration of Actions was a kind of word study exercise. The Action, “to take care of” could become a lesson on nature to her students with the class on stage trying to save an imaginary fledgling bird that had fallen from its nest (115). She instructed, “[There] are many actions worth studying – to take care of, to learn, to teach, to study, to reveal, to confess, to arouse […]” (115). The actor was to explore and strengthen the Action through a firm grasp of the Given Circumstances through his own Imagination. Adler explains; “[…] the deep understanding of the circumstances, creates the indispensable need for him [the actor] to use his imagination. The nature of his imagination is to try to visualize, as completely as possible, the characters and circumstances of he play” (Adler, Technique 116). Her technique moved fluidly between understanding the fullness of the Given Circumstances through one’s Imagination in order to conceive of Action.

Adler clarified her views on the actor’s Imagination: “Ninety-nine percent of what you see and use on the stage comes from imagination.[…] Every circumstance you find yourself in will be an imaginary one.[…] Every action must originate in the actor’s imagination. Unless a fact passes through you […], it is a lie.[…] The most important exercises are those that have to do with the use of imagination” (16). For Adler, Imagination was a necessary entryway to the life of, say, an English Nobleman, a French Aristocrat, or a nun. Imagination and research into the Given Circumstances of the play, not Emotion Memory, allowed the actor to portray roles beyond his experience (Adler, Art 81)

Adler emphasizes her opposition to an exclusive focus on Emotion Memory in The Art of Acting. To make her point she discusses the character of Hamlet.

  • I have the feeling that none of you has become convinced that your father was murdered by your uncle.[…] These are very specific circumstances. It is the actor’s job to delve into them, to imagine them, not just find circumstances in his own life that correspond to them. There are none. You felt miserable when your beloved grandmother died. You were inconsolable when the dog you had all through your childhood was run over by a car. The memory of these things can give you clues about his father’s death, but only clues. Whatever you reconstruct from your emotional memory is no substitute for putting your imagination to work. (81)

Interestingly, she did not dismiss Emotion Memory entirely but she made it less important than Imagination. From the quotation above, she admitted that “the memory of these things”, such as a dead pet or grandparent, “can give you clues about his [Hamlet’s] father’s death, but only clues”. She accepted the clues that Emotion Memory could provide. Emotion Memory had another application in Adler’s Technique. She called it the “‘golden box, that contained the actor’s personal source for the feelings needed in a scene” (Bartow 45).

Adler also had great respect for historical civilization and its form. She lectured her students about Greek architecture and its magnificent columns. That led her to the costumes and integrity of priests and nuns. She posited, “[When] we looked at the Greek columns we saw a strong solid base. We felt the root strength. We should feel the same in those who wear the costumes of a religious order. The members of an order are like columns. They dress exactly alike.[…] There was a moment in history when mankind found a form – through the church […]” (Adler, Art 199). Through her imagination, she explored the realities of the civilized world past and present to encourage her students to take on roles of “size”.

Throughout her book, Adler wanted “size” from her students. She said, “[Yet] the place of the actor in his own profession is clear and unchallengeable. On him rests the high responsibility of […] playing characters of size as Oedipus, Hamlet, Hedda Gabler, Joan of Arc, and Willy Loman” (Adler, Technique 5). She said, “Write this down: you have to develop size. That is what we are here to work on” (22). And also, “I will help you develop the habits that will give you size” (22). She wanted her actors to have the “size” to play the large roles. She went on: “[We] have to restore theatre to its historical purpose, lift it to the level where it existed all over the world for thousands of years. To the point where we understand that what the playwright was saying was, these are rules, these are the cosmic rules” (33).

In her books The Art of Acting and The Technique of Acting, Adler used the term size in ambiguous ways. One way to clarify this term in her vernacular is to apply it to some of the basic building blocks of her technique: Given Circumstances, Justification and Action. Before going on, I should clarify that Justification in Adler’s technique was simply the Justification for an action or the reason that an action would be undertaken by the actor in his role (Adler, Art 125). Adler stated, “Your talent consists in how well you ‘shop’ for justification. Your justification is what gives size to your actions. You must make every action you perform epic” (125). Adler also believed with Stanislavsky that “The truth in art is the truth of your circumstances” (Adler, Technique 31). Identifying your Given Circumstances as an actor is the entire context of that actor’s size, as she defined it.

While Strasberg, Stanislavsky and Meisner called an organic, emotionally true performance inspired, Adler’s idea of an actor in peak performance was an actor with size. Her desire for that size also led her to Stanislavsky’s “system” just as the desire for inspired acting led Strasberg and Meisner. The commonality between these two difficult terms, “size” and “inspiration”, is found in their so-called “eternal” qualities.

An inspired performance, where an actor seems to live organically on stage, is a performance that dissects the reality of all men. When an actor performs the great roles that require Adler’s size, that actor is also a stand-in for all men. An inspired performance possessed of size speaks to man as he always has been and as he will be, beset by suffering and fighting to overcome it. This is the “eternal man” or man as archetype. Meisner, Strasberg and Stanislavsky, in witnessing that, saw an emotionally full, organic, life like performance. Adler did, too, but referred to it as “size”. All involved spoke to the “eternal” quality that good art possesses.

Adler came closest to ironing out her use of the term size when she wrote the introduction to her husband, Harold Clurman’s, The Fervent Years. It is important to note, Jacob P. Adler was Stella Adler’s father. He is referred to in this statement:

  • Harold too dreamed of a greater and more compelling American theatre, as he explains in his own foreword to The Fervent Years. He saw that super-size was necessary and found it in the person of Jacob P. Adler, who could hypnotize an audience with his colossal quality. This was the essence of theatre Harold sought: monumental stature and universality.[…] Another way of stating my point is to describe it as a search for universal size, larger than life, a size possessed by a Lear or a Shylock. (Clurman, Fervent vi – vii)

Adler used the terms epic, cosmic order, monumental stature, universality, in all the previous quotes I’ve related. They reflect her way of communicating what size involves. Terms like these further align her with Stanislavsky’s, Strasberg’s and Meisner’s thoughts about inspiration. Her use of pseudo religious terms is reminiscent of Stanislavsky’s way of referring to inspiration which an actor could not chase on his own, but had to rely on, “that miraculous fairy nature” (Stanislavsky, Handbook 85), to call inspiration forth into the actor’s performance.

As I have shown, Stella Adler had a unique interpretation of Stanislavsky’s “system” which included her rejection of Strasberg’s interpretation of it. She also had a profound effect on Sanford Meisner who, in his early career, was dependent on Strasberg to define Stanislavsky’s work. After Adler returned from Paris with information from Stanislavsky himself, Strasberg’s intellectual influence over Meisner was lessened. Meisner sided with Adler when she “rejected Strasberg’s emphasis on affective memory in favor of use of the imagination” (Malague 117).

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V. SANFORD MEISNER’S PATH TO STANISLAVSKI

Sanford Meisner’s exploration of Stanislavsky’s ideas began with an interesting introduction to Lee Strasberg. The composer Aaron Copeland and theatre director, Harold Clurman had studied at the Sorbonne in Paris. A musician friend of Meisner’s introduced him to Copeland. Copeland then introduced Meisner to Clurman. Finally, Clurman introduced Meisner to Lee Strasberg (Meisner 7).  Meisner said of Strasberg:

  • Strasberg had a great uplifting influence on me.[…] He introduced me to quality actors and artists of various kinds and this helped enormously to solidify my emotional needs. I learned from him. I solidified my natural tastes and inclinations with his help. For example, together we went to the Metropolitan Opera and saw the great Russian singer Chaliapin. What made him preeminent was his possession of deep emotional truth and theatricality of form. (7)

They had bonded over a great performance that had “deep emotional truth”. This quality was part of the kind of acting that Strasberg and Stanislavsky thought of as inspired. In his interview with Theatre Magazine in 1977, Meisner stated, “I liked all the actors who were emotionally alive” (Bartow 95).

When Clurman, Strasberg, and Cheryl Crawford formed the Group Theatre in 1931 (Garfield 18), Meisner was one of the founding members.  He was 25 years old at the time (Meisner 7). Membership in the Group Theatre made him privy to all the teachings of Richard Boleslavsky and Maria Ouspenskaya. Strasberg, Adler and Clurman had all studied with Boleslavsky and Ouspenskaya at the American Laboratory Theatre (8 – 9). Meisner said of the Group Theatre,  “[Without] the Group I would have been in the fur business” (8).

Strasberg, as the “chief director of the Group’s productions during it’s early years” (9), occupied an obvious position of influence in the Group. Before the Group existed, Strasberg directed Meisner in a 1926 production of Racine’s, Esther (Garfield 18). At that time Strasberg was applying the lessons he’d learned at the American Laboratory Theatre. “[He] explored the possibilities of improvisation and affective memory in a variety of plays he directed […]” (18). In his book The Fervent Years, Clurman summed up the affect of Stanislavsky’s ‘system’ on the Group Theatre and specifically on Strasberg,

  • The first effect on the actors was that of a miracle. The system (incorrectly identified by some actors as the use of exercises) represented for most of them the open-sesame of the actor’s art. Here at last was a key to that elusive ingredient of the stage, true emotion. And Strasberg was a fanatic on the subject of true emotion. Everything was secondary to it. He sought it with the patience of an inquisitor, he was outraged by trick substitutes, and when he had succeeded in stimulating it, he husbanded it, fed it, and protected it. Here was something new to most of the actors, something basic, something almost holy. It was revelation in the theatre; and Strasberg was its prophet. (44-45)

Meisner was formally brought into the Group because of the strength of his performance in Gods of the Lightning performed at the Provincetown Playhouse (Garfield 23). In 1931, The Group took a summer retreat to Brookfield Center, “[…] a summer camp like site five miles from Connecticut” (24). David Garfield in A Players Place characterized the aim of the summer retreat: “[The] goal of that first summer’s work was to achieve, ‘a unified approach to performance’ by grounding the actors in the fundamentals of the Method as received by Strasberg from his studies at the American Lab and developed by him at Chrystie Street Settlement House” (25). Strasberg directed Meisner in the play Esther at the Chrystie Street Settlement House, which again, made Meisner privy to Strasberg’s interpretation of Stanislavsky’s “system”.

It was Stanislavsky’s technique of using Affective Memory that created tension between Strasberg and Meisner. Stella Adler brought the reasons for the tension directly from Stanislavsky himself. As described previously, Adler asserted that Stanislavsky had moved away from incorporating Affective Memory into a technique to elicit emotion from the actor; instead, he “thought that the key to true emotion was to be found in a full understanding of the ‘given circumstances’ – the human problems – contained in the play itself” (Meisner 9).

As was stated in the introduction to this paper, the book Sanford Meisner on Acting states “affective memory plays no role in the system Meisner has evolved […]” (10). As was noted, in his book, Meisner does direct his student in a type of Emotion Memory exercise. This contradicts the earlier statement in the book. It seems he did allow for Emotion Memory in his acting technique. This is substantiated in Alison Hodge’s book, Twentieth-Century Actor Training: “Meisner did not entirely reject use of emotional recall or substitution (replacing the plays events with your own), but he required that substitution must ‘be done as homework’” (143).

When asked how he became familiar with Stanislavsky’s “system”, Meisner said,

  • In the Group Theatre, by the pioneer leadership of Harold Clurman and Lee Strasberg; from Stella Adler, who worked with Stanislavsky and to whom I listened attentively and rewardingly, and by the actor Michael Chekhov, who made me realize that truth, as in naturalism was far form the whole truth. In him I witnessed exciting theatrical form with no loss of inner content and I knew that I wanted this too. (10)

Essence of the Meisner Technique

Stanislavski stated, “Action is the chief element of our art – genuine, organic, productive, expedient action” (Merlin 133). In Sanford Meisner on Acting, Meisner opens his class with his declaration about action: “The foundation of acting is the reality of doing” (16). He learned this maxim from Ilya Sudakov and I. Rapoport, “Russian theorists whose writings stressed the importance of the reality of doing, the foundation of Meisner’s system. Their writings were circulated throughout the Group in an English translation in the 1930s” (10).

On that foundation, Meisner developed many strong beliefs. Here are two of them. “Don’t do anything unless something happens to make you do it, […], and What you do doesn’t depend on you; it depends on the other fellow” (Meisner 34). To teach these principles he created an exercise he called The Pinch and the Ouch.

He would give his student a simple statement like, “Mr. Meisner,” then he would pinch him. The pinch caused an emotional reaction in the actor that colored his line: “Mr. Meisner!” A controversial variation he performed on the exercise created an even bigger response in his student. He slipped his hand under a girl’s blouse and that colored her line, too: “Mr. Meisner!” Needless to say her response was exclaimed in a version of the exercise that would not be practiced today. In any case, Meisner’s action, a pinch, caused a reaction in the actor. He states, “In short, my pinch justified their ouch, isn’t that true” (Meisner 35)? The Pinch and the Ouch introduces the actor to the “Ping-Pong game” (Meisner 22) of cause and affect. It re-asserts his maxims, “Don’t do anything unless something happens to make you do it.[…] What you do doesn’t depend on you; it depends on the other fellow” (Meisner 34).

Building on The Pinch and the Ouch, Meisner introduced his most famous exercise to his class, the Repetition Exercise. “In the repetition exercise, students begin by making observations about one another, and then repeat verbatim what the other has said. In the next level, actors may speak for their own points of view. Eventually, they may change the spoken text when they feel moved to do so; they must be moved by what the other person does” (Malague 117). For the acting student the Repetition Exercise clearly and simply demonstrates Meisner’s declaration about Action: “The foundation of acting is the reality of doing” (Meisner 34). In the Repetition Exercise, when an actor observes something real about another actor and comments on it, they are actually doing something. Meisner states, “You’re attached to something outside of yourself” (24). A student of Meisner sums up the usefulness of the Repetition Exercise: “If you’re really doing it, then you don’t have time to watch yourself doing it. You only have the time and energy to do it” (24). 

After learning the Repetition Exercise, Meisner’s students incorporated it in Knock On The Door. Here the Repetition Exercise is utilized after a scene partner is making an entrance. His scene partner is inside the space being entered. He should be engaged in an activity that completely absorbs him. When the two scene partners meet, the Repetition Exercise begins. “Once the actors have explored that exercise with advancing levels of complication, they move on to ‘preparation’, which is Meisner’s answer to affective memory” (Malague 117).

Before moving on to Meisner’s process of Preparation, I shall examine how Meisner felt emotion functioned in the actor’s work. He said,

  • The text is like a canoe, and the river on which it sits is the emotion. The text floats on the river. If the water of the river is turbulent, the words will come out like a canoe on a rough river. It all depends on the flow of the river which is your emotion. The text takes on the character of your emotion. That’s what this exercise is for: how to let the river of your emotion flow untrammeled, with the words floating on top of it. (Meisner 115) 

To provide that “river which is your emotion”, Meisner offered the Preparation technique. He defined Preparation as “that device which permits you to start your scene or play in a condition of emotional aliveness” (18). In his chapter on Preparation, Meisner quotes the playwright Clifford Odets from his play Paradise Lost. “Marlene – She’s the intellect and artistic type Marlene, I got her in the harem of my head”. The chapter title is “Preparation: In the Harem of my Head” (78).

A student defines Meisner’s preparation technique in the following way:

  • Before the scene begins, through your imagination – maybe by daydreaming or however you go about it – you get yourself ticking emotionally, so that when you enter the scene you have an emotional fullness which lasts as long as the first moment. It may or may not come up again in the course of the scene, but it brings you on alive and full. And you can’t necessarily relate it to the scene because it has to be something deeply personal to you, that only you know about, that only stimulates you. (88 – 89)

Meisner agreed with the student (89). Then he adds, “[There’s] nothing as personal as what makes an actor act, and of all the personal, secret things, preparation is the most. That’s why I’m not saying anything more today.[…] It is something that should take place […], and I’m pointing out as far as is possible a conscious way of starting the process” (89).

Meisner’s cryptic statement brings me back to the point made in the introduction of this paper. Meisner did seem to allow for Emotion Memory to inform the actor’s work. In the introduction, I pointed to a passage from his book where Meisner directed a scene from A Children’s Story. He remarked, “I can’t think of episodes or incidents for you which arouse in you terror, horror, shame […]” (137). The implication is that if Meisner couldn’t provide “episodes or incidents”, the actor could provide past emotional experiences from their own life which would inform their work as an actor. There is one other example from his book where Meisner seems to allow for Emotion Memory.

In a class exercise, Meisner directs the actor, Joseph, to “start the scene emotionally there” (131). The scene being worked on has to do with an American soldier stationed in Italy in WWII. His Italian girlfriend has just been labeled a prostitute, even though the couple’s intentions are pure (130 – 131). Meisner encourages Joseph to find the emotion in this way: “[Suppose] that you saw […] one of those poor guys who sleeps on the street. Say you saw him eat out of a garbage pail and it turned your stomach. That might be just fine for this scene” (133).  He attempts to stick to the idea that an actor should utilize imagination rather than Emotion Memory by adding, “Now that’s personal to me, but it springs from my imagination” (133). One could describe Meisner’s direction to the actor as an As If technique by couching it as Meisner did earlier when he directed the scene from A Children’s Story, “It’s pure Stanislavsky. It’s as if she were a five-year-old kid and something dreadful happened to her” […] (137). But, both moments are from the actors past – the revulsion at seeing a homeless person or the horror of being assaulted as a child. Both are drawn from the actor’ memory and meant, by Meisner’s direction, to inform an actors emotional state in the scene. It is hard to dismiss them as the As If technique.

Meisner closes out his directorial session on the WWII scene, set in Italy. He relates a story that is very personal to him. He stands and tells a story of his Father’s funeral. “‘[While] they were lowering the coffin, I realized what I was doing with my foot. As the coffin was going down, the foot was going like this.’ His right shoe begins to shift on the ball of his foot as if he were methodically grinding out a cigarette or crushing a cockroach. ‘Oh, my God,’ Anna [a student] says quietly. ‘You see! Look at her reaction!’ he says, pointing to Anna.[…] ‘You were shocked […]’” (133). These passages in Meisner’s book, where he explores the power of his students’ past emotional experience and the shocking quality of his own experience at his father’s funeral, illustrate his acknowledgement of the power of Emotion Memory for the acting student.

Meisner’s exact feelings on the issue of Emotion Memory remain indeterminate. When he says of the actor’s need to be emotionally full, “I’m not saying anything more today.[…] It is something that should take place […] and I’m pointing out as far as is possible a conscious way of starting the process” (89), he seems to say that an actor should find his way to emotion in whatever way he can, but he should keep it private.

Near the end of his book, he offers a strong case that daydreaming, a part of his Preparation technique, is his preferred way to access an actor’s emotions. Meisner asks his assistant to read a passage from Sigmund Freud’s, A General Introduction to Psychoanalysis. He asks, “[Please] read this aloud, I can’t see well enough” (134). The assistant begins;

  • I should like to direct your attention for a moment to a side of fantasy-life. […] There is in fact, a path from fantasy back again to reality, and that is – art.[…] The artist […] longs to attain to honour, power, riches, fame, and the love of women: but he lacks the means of achieving these gratifications. So, like any other with an unsatisfied longing, he turns way from reality and transfers all his interest […] onto the creation of his wishes in the life of fantasy.[…] But the way back to reality is found by the artist thus: He is not the only one who has a life of fantasy; the intermediate world of fantasy is sanctioned by general human consent, and every hungry soul looks to it for comfort.[…] He understands how to elaborate his day-dreams, so that they lose that personal note.[…] He possesses the mysterious ability to mould his particular material until it expresses the ideas of his fantasy faithfully.[…] When he can do all this, he opens out to others the way back to the comfort and consolation of their own conscious sources of pleasure, and so reaps their gratitude and admiration; then he has won – through his fantasy – what before he could only win in fantasy: honor, power, and the love of women. (134 – 135)

Meisner said of the passage, “[It’s] marvelous. I can’t tell you how much this discussion of fantasy helped me clarify my thoughts about the dreadful problem of preparation.[…] Isn’t that marvelous[…]” (135)? Meisner repeats Freud’s final line, “‘Then he has won – through his fantasy . . . honor, power, and the love of women’ I just love it” (135).

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Conclusion

As one can tell, an examination of Strasberg’s, Adler’s and Meisner’s different interpretations of Stanislavsky’s “system” is complicated.  Elements of the “system” like Emotion Memory, Given Circumstances or As If, were interpreted, shaped, and applied in unpredictable and sometimes puzzling ways by all three teacher practitioners. Another aspect of this difficulty is that there is an effect of time on Stanislavsky’s theories and the interpretation of those theories. The question becomes which Stanislavsky is one talking about – the one at the beginning stages of his “system”, the epiphany stage, or the synthesizing stage? Just as there were “different” Stanislavskys at different times there were also different, Meisners, Adlers and Strasbergs. Acknowledging that phenomenon, writing this thesis has been a fascinating challenge to put together many dynamic pieces, which change position, sometimes quite unexpectedly.

The adaptations of Stanislavsky’s “system” seem to relate to the amount of emphasis placed on certain ideas, concepts, and techniques of implementation that Stanislavsky had already created. They were doing so in good faith; yet, the teacher practitioners were simply stressing certain techniques that Stanislavsky had already formulated. They did not create anything new; they merely applied what was already present in different ways. However, it appears that alternative approaches were inadvertently taken to address and satisfy some of the teacher practitioner’s highly personal needs. Arthur Bartow supports this assertion in Training of the American Actor:

  • The acting techniques that arose in America as the twentieth century progressed were designed either to emphasize certain aspects of Stanislavsky’s work or to react against it. Together, Strasberg, Adler and Meisner came to represent the troika of Stanislavsky-based approaches to American acting – each focused on a different facet of his forty-year process. Simplistically, the work of these three can be described as dominated respectively by emotion, imagination and spontaneity. Each teacher would have passionate adherents. Each would produce successful actors (xxiv).

Identifying specific goals of each of the teacher practitioners is easier than pinpointing why the highly varied approaches to the incorporation and application of Stanislavsky’s “system” occurred. One of those goals is particularly clear, they, along with Stanislavsky, all worked hard to realize emotionally truthful, life-like acting, i.e., acting that is so compelling that they called it inspired.

Some critics have ascribed more questionable motives for their use of the “system”. “These three former members of the Group [Theatre] were all compelled to position themselves in relation to Stanislavsky, and each aspired to be seen as the American authority on acting. Adler claimed to be the inheritor of the true Stanislavsky technique, Strasberg claimed to have moved beyond him, and Meisner took up his own version of Strasberg’s strategy” (Malague 115).

Assigning motives to these teacher practitioners is not an objective position to take and, therefore, is beyond the purview of this paper. But it can be noted that other authors on the subject of Meisner, Adler and Strasberg have said, “[They] wished to claim the Stanislavsky legacy but also to establish [themselves] as the creator of [their] own techniques” (Malague 116). While Meisner made no definitive claims that he owned the “system”, or was the face of the “system” in America; Adler did say, “The Method is something you’ll find through me” (Adler, Art 14).

As far as Strasberg’s attempt to “own” Stanislavsky’s work is concerned, Howard Kissel the compiler and editor of Adler’s book, The Art of Acting, relates a story pertaining to Adler and Strasberg. In the mid 1960’s, Adler and Strasberg were invited to Moscow to review how Stanislavsky’s work continued at the Moscow Art Theatre. Upon their return Adler spoke to teachers of her school about her findings. Strasberg, on the other hand, trumpeted his discoveries. He held a news conference to announce them to the world. With this story, Kissel intimates that Adler was not about self-promotion in relation to Stanislavsky’s “system” but Strasberg was (Adler, Art 266 – 267).

While these teacher practitioners definitely acknowledged an intellectual debt to Stanislavsky, they didn’t always approach his work with deference.  It was not incumbent on them to do so.  Had they had more complete access to the breadth of Stanislavsky’s work, if they would have been exposed to writers like, Benedetti, Magarshack and Merlin, who not only displayed the totality of his life but also reduced his “system” to bite size intellectual pieces, their reactions may have been different. Had they had access to the Stanislavsky we can see more clearly today, they might have found a better appreciation for the completeness of his “system”. Through that more detailed view of Stanislavsky, they might have found even more depth for the sound acting techniques they established.

When I examine Strasberg, Adler and Meisner, I see that they are all searching for ways to spark, foster, and sustain inspirational acting, or in Adler’s mind, size. However, in doing so, I detect, at times, that they pursued there own techniques without enough thought about the originator of the “system”. If there were any desire for ownership on their part, they could have heeded Stanislavsky’s assertion that he didn’t invent his “system”. In actuality it belonged to nature itself. It was, in the end, just a reflection of the natural order that no one in particular had a hand in making (Stanislavsky, Handbook 101-102). In their best moments, I see that the teacher practitioners agree with Stanislavsky as he concludes My Life in Art.

  • The artist of the stage must be the master of his own inspiration and must know how to call it forth when it is announced on the posters of the theatre. This is the chief secret of our art. […] And this secret, more is the pity, is very jealously guarded. […] From the inability to find a conscious path to unconscious creativeness, actors reached destructive prejudices which denied spiritual technique; they grew cold in the surface layers of scenic craft and accepted empty theatrical self-consciousness for true inspiration. I know only one method of combating this so dangerous circumstance for the actor. This is to describe in a well-balanced system all that I have reached after long researches. […] I want to compare myself to a gold-seeker who must first make his way through almost impassable jungles in order to find a place where he may discover a streak of gold. […] And, like the gold-seeker, I cannot will to my heirs my labors, my quests, my losses, my joys and my disappointments, but only the few grains of gold that it has taken me all my life to find. May the Lord aid me in this task. (571-572)
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Works Cited

Adams, Cindy. Lee Strasberg, The Imperfect Genius of the Actors Studio. New York: Doubleday, 1980. Print.

Adler, Stella. The Art of Acting. New York: Applause Books, 2000. Print.

Adler, Stella. The Technique of Acting. New York: Bantam Books, 1990. Print.

Bartow, Arthur. Training of the American Actor. New York: Theatre Communications Group, 2006. Print.

Benedetti, Jean. Stanislavsky & the Actor. New York: Routledge, 1998. Print.

Benedetti, Jean. Stanislavski: An Introduction, Revised and Updated. New York: Routledge, 2000. Print.

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