Someone asked a question the other day that I think requires some further analysis. I’m paraphrasing, but it was in response to something my acting partner had said (in response to another question). She said [i’m paraphrasing]
“you feel the audience telling you what to do on stage. They are telling you to speed up, or slow down, sometimes they require you to enunciate every word. They want you to humiliate your partner, or they want you to MEAN that fucking apology.”
Anyway you look at it, and at every step of the way I agree with her — the audience is asking you for things. They are talking to you. I have always thought the greatest actors are the one’s that accept the things I think or feel . It’s as if they smell me. They know my fears. They know my strengths, they know exactly where I am in this life and why I am here on this day in this play and they speak to me in public and without ever giving up that they know my life, and can sum me up with a gesture.
“How do you know if we’re with you or not? What does that feel like?”
An impossible question to answer with any certainty. I babbled for a bit…. about heat, and silence, and energy, and yadda-yadda-new-age-y-yadda, but at the end of the day it might be all bullshit. I have no idea if you’re with me, or not. But can I ask you a question. You ever walk into your house — call for your mom once, call for her twice, and suddenly there is this silence that sends a chill down your spine as you wait for her to answer? Like the whole world is watching you?