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Home / Whanganui Chronicle

What makes a really good actor

By Joan and Mike Street
Wanganui Midweek·
17 Dec, 2019 12:31 AM7 mins to read

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Stan Hood and Mike Street in Grease. PICTURE / JOHN MASLIN

Stan Hood and Mike Street in Grease. PICTURE / JOHN MASLIN

MIKE: What qualities are needed to produce a good actor? Two obvious ones are the facility for learning lines, then delivering them with the feeling required by the role. Taking the second to a further level, it is the ability to inhabit the character, to make the audience believe they are watching a real-life situation, not one being acted. Another basic requirement, however, which is often overlooked, is to be a team player, by helping out when a line is forgotten, missed, mangled or misplaced by a fellow actor. This involves listening closely to every line delivered, reacting appropriately and sometimes even adding a few words to regain the correct flow.

Last week, on catching a brief trailer of Shortland Street I was reminded of this last point. There, playing Dr Boyd Rolleston, was Sam Bunkall, whom I last saw 20 years ago at Collegiate School, when he acted in one of four 1 Act plays I directed. The idea behind four short plays was to give would-be Thespians a taste of theatre, the opportunity to appear on stage, then decide whether they wished to continue this interest.

Drinking Companions had three characters, one male (Sam) and two female. One of the girls had learnt her lines, in the correct order, and when it was her turn to speak she would deliver the next line on her mental list. No actor, however, is perfect, and occasionally a line would be missed by the other girl. The first young lady would then deliver her next line in sequence, with no reference whatsoever to the sense of the play. When I pointed out to her that she had to listen and adjust her lines accordingly, she simply said it was their fault! She knew her lines and would spout them in turn, without any regard for what had just been said. She completely failed to understand that she had the responsibility to help smooth out any small kinks in the flow of dialogue. (By the way, she occasionally missed a line herself, which really compounded our difficulties!)

Sam handled the problem brilliantly. He never knew, either in final rehearsals or in the three performances, where he might have to jump in with some words to maintain the overall sense. He coped extremely well — the mark of a true actor — and learned an important lesson at an early stage of his career. He has continued in the theatre, though I must confess I have lost touch with his progress over the years. Perhaps I may even start watching Shortland Street.

JOAN: A recent visit to Wellington gave us the opportunity to visit the City Gallery and its present exhibition. Rather verbosely entitled Discover Contemporary Art This Summer the artists presented there, I have to admit, afforded me very little pleasure. My fault to some extent, but I was not over-impressed by what seemed more gimmick or novelty than something lasting and profound.

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In a large, darkened room, Christchurch artist Steve Carr offered us a video covering six independent screens showing the colourful result of portraying six views by six drones of a single moment in a fireworks display. No doubt this was very technically difficult to achieve but I found moving round from screen to screen undid his intention in that you still couldn't watch each "take" at the same time! Pointless?
Photographers Justine Varga, Harry Culy and Shaun Waugh offered us unusual takes on usual subjects. Technically each artist had moved to areas of presentation which, although attractive visually, they were too difficult for me as a layperson to fully appreciate.Oh dear!
Even more challenging were the presence, in another large area, of a life-size figure of a spaceman looking down on the small model of a Maori warden, arms crossed, who looked back in defiance. Entitled Encounter 1, we were invited to consider what each sculpture was confronting and challenging.
I saw a political challenge, maybe, but little else and I didn't care enough to think long or hard. I began to feel gloomy! In the next darkened room we witnessed a vibrant video, full of colour and energy. Shot by an artist named Baloji in the Congo, it followed a Pygmy marriage ceremony where one of the partners appeared to have changed his mind and left at the last minute. Heartbreaking attracted me visually and musically but I needed to read the information alongside to discover this was 'disconnection between lovers and/ or between the Congo and the Western gaze'.

By now, bemused and confused I looked at Elizabeth Pointon's banners. Large and carefully stitched letters were examples of 'text art', created to be flown like advertisements behind a plane. There was a small screen showing such a flight but all was too static for me and rather silly.

We then watched a small part of an unusual experimental Czech film from 1966 called Daisies which showed an early burst of feminism and which was interesting in the context of womanhood today but which soon became tedious. Was it just not my day?
I was quite irritated by what I had seen. I was sure, from recent art works viewed in New Zealand and abroad, that the day of verbose explanations of some work of art that lacked expertise and needed justification, was passing. None of it did. All had a written explanation of what it was supposed to offer for us to consider artistically but it did not help me at all. I was about to leave!

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However, we decided we should view all rooms and braced ourselves for the next offerings. Hurrah! Here I was immediately impressed by a work by Wellington artist, Isabella Loudon who had unravelled a very large ball of twine and soaked it in cement. Sounds "gimmicky" again, but, within the very small time allowed to her before the cement set, she had woven highs and lows of twine, webs and networks of twine which, when solidified, had a huge presence and mood. I loved this and spent some time observing what really appealed to me as exciting, artistic, worthwhile exploring and worth seeing and remembering. I suppose this all proved how very subjective one's view of art really is. I would love to hear readers' opinion of these works when visited! Will we agree or disagree? The exhibition runs until April of next year.

MIKE: Earlier this year my wife inveigled me into "volunteering" to add a male presence, brief though it might be, to Sylvia's Tappers. Stan Hood was similarly inveigled by his sister Zena, another member of the group. We were required to play John Travolta-type roles in Grease. An inspired choice! Who else? Despite a limited number of rehearsals, Stan and I were confident we would cope. The only slight problem was that Stan is an average dancer, placing him well above my own inadequate level. I tried to explain to Sylvia that my feet do not accept messages from my brain. After a couple of traumatic rehearsals she agreed. Dance steps were out. We would have a car instead — a beautiful, pink, streamlined, cardboard model.

Sylvia's annual concert was held last Sunday at the War Memorial Hall, John Maslin acting as MC. His clarity of diction and confident approach could be used as a model for any would-be MCs. During the introductions, he stressed the point that all the ladies in the group are amateurs, there purely for the fun and enjoyment they derive from the dancing. Being on stage — or, in this case, on ground level — in front of an audience in excess of 100, would be both exhilarating and nerve-racking for them. Neither he, nor Sylvia, nor the audience was disappointed. The only speed-bump they encountered was when Stan and I backed them in Grease. 'Backed' in the literal sense. Standing behind the ladies, I found my non-dancing feet twitching to the music, and foolishly joined in at times. It was not a pretty sight!

In addition to the Tappers, entertainment was provided at the interval and between items in the second half by 'The Stringalongs', half a dozen mellifluous, ukulele-strumming ladies. Congratulations to all who provided their services, especially to Sylvia, who must be suffering from pre-Xmas exhaustion! On which apt note, best wishes from the two of us for Xmas and 2020.
Comments and suggestions to mjstreet@xtra.co.nz

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