COPYRIGHT 1985 David Wesley Graham

THE USE OF RITUAL ELEMENTS AS A DIRECTORIAL APPROACH TO THE TOOTH OF CRIME

by

DAVID WESLEY GRAHAM, B.A.

A THESIS

IN

THEATRE ARTS

Submitted to the Graduate Faculty of Texas Tech University in

Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for

the Degree of

MASTER OF FINE ARTS

Approved

Accepted

Dean of/the Graduate School

December, 1985

<i

/?i^^ NCt ITI ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to acknowledge Dr. George Sorensen and

Dr. Michael Gerlach to whom I am deeply indebted for their

guidance in preparation of this document and for their

assistance in realizing the production of The Tooth of

Crime.

11

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS i i

CHAPTER

I. INTRODUCTION 1

II. MASKS: METAPHOR AND METHOLOGY 6

III. PHYSICAL CENTERING 15

IV. MUSIC/RHYTHMS 22

V. CONCLUSION 27

BIBLIOGRAPHY 29

APPENDIX 30

111

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

Directing a play by Sam Shepard is an artistic chal­

lenge, as well as an often disorienting experience.

American actor/directors are trained primarily in the

Stanislavski method of actor training which demands a

logical, motivational approach to playing text. Direc­

torial analyses of scripts are heavily influenced by this

school of thought, searching always for the "cause-effect"

relationships within the structure of modern drama.

Shepard plays, however, defy these principles; situations

presented are nonrealistic, disjointed scenarios, popu­

lated with mythical characters who behave quite illog-

ically at times and sometimes speak in dialogue which

distorts American English into an alien language. In

their conglomeration of styles, Shepard pieces also

present a dilemma for artists trained in perceiving and

rendering unity of thought and character. Within a single

Shepard play, the action might be reflected through the

psychological nuances of realism, to the presentational

conventions of Bertold Brecht's work.

Approaching a play such as The Tooth of Crime pre­

sented a twofold challenge: to find a unifying direc­

torial concept, which would serve as a basis for visual

and musical elements, while utilizing said concept in

preparing actors for the demands of a most unusual script.

The story, in a linear sense, is simple. An aging hood

named Hoss is presented as the king of rock music super-\

stars and also as the top assassin in the country. Pres-

)Sure and self doubt, as well as drugs and alcohol, have

rendered him impotent. Residing in a mansion with his

entourage of advisors, he awaits a final showdown for his

throne with a vicious young newcomer called Crow. Crow

defeats him in an unusual verbal battle termed a "style

match" and assumes Hoss's place, '

The main problem presented by the script is its use

of language. The dialogue is composed of black "jive"

music jargon, idioms and slang loosely drawn from films of

the western and science fiction genres, and on occasion, //

seemingly arbitrary combinations of words. The result is

an ambiguous and alien-sounding flow of exchanges, such as

this passage, occurring when Hoss and Crow meet for the

first time:

Hoss:

Crow: Hoss: Crow:

Hoss:

My sleuth tells me you're driving'a '58 Impala with a Vet underneath. Razor, Leathers. Very razor. Did you rest up? Got the molar chomps. Eyes stitched. Very razor to cop z's sussin' me to be on the far end of the spectrum. It wasn't strategy man. I was really tired. You steal a lotta' energy from a distance.

Crow: No shrewd from this end either. We both bow to bigger fields.

Hoss: You want a drink or something? Crow: Lush in sun time gotta smell of lettuce

or turn of the century. Sure, Leathers, squeeze on the grape vine one time.^

One may ascertain certain meanings or impressions

from the flow and tension of the dialogue, but literal

understanding is elusive. Because little or no explan­

ation is given for much of the terminology, one can only

assume that an intentional choice by Shepard is to focus

audience response on emotional or sensory, rather than

intellectual, content.

The prevalent theme in The Tooth of Crime is that of

cyclical regeneration, the_passing of identity from old to

young. This idea is present in many of his works, in­

cluding Curse of the Starving Class and Buried Child.

However, The Tooth of Crime predates these plays and

S offers a stronger exemplification of the rites of death ^

' and rebirth, and for good reason. Written in the early

1970s, this thematic structure can easily be attributed to

the turbulent era from which America had just emerged—a

period where youth was asserting its identity and shaking

the moral foundations laid down by an older generation.

With these ideas in mind, a concept began to form.

The piece implies the endless chain of victor and van-

^Sam Shepard, Seven Plays, (New York: Bantam Books, 1981) 229-30.

"quished inherent to this particular "kingdom" ruled at

this time by Hoss. The characters are mythic, rather than

realistic, representing general creations of American

popular culture, such as the fast-talking disc jockey, the

"spaced-out" guru, and the sultry, seductive moll. The

musical references allude to roots of traditional forms

and a need to recognize and recapture those earlier

styles. The language certainly invites a strong physical

commitment to find the communicative gesturing necessary

to transcend the immediate ambiguity and relate a univers­

ality of thought to a contemporary audience. Therefore,

the use of ritual elements was decided upon as a direc­

torial approach for this play. The approach was divided

into three parts: the use of masks, the utilization of

music and rhythms, and work with physically centering

actor energy in different parts of the actor's body. In

the chapters that follow, these areas are discussed in

terms of application in the rehearsal process. These

methods are primarily concerned with directing the actor,

yet they also served in defining visual and musical

elements, such as the mask, which became the central

metaphor for the production.

The Tooth of Crime was presented at the Texas Tech

Agricultural Engineering Auditorium, as part of the Uni­

versity Theatre's laboratory season of plays. The pro­

duction was performed April 18-20, 1985. The play was

directed by David Graham, scenic and lighting design by

Mark W. Ayers and costume design by Nanette Griffin.

Original music was composed and directed by Arch Hooks.

Masks were designed by Caroline Crawford. "Slips Away"

was choreographed by Laurie Whitten. The cast included

Clay Brakeley as Hoss, Rona Book as Becky Lou, Carl Condra

as Star Man, Kenneth Mechler as Galactic Jack, Eugene

Chandler as Doc, Rudy Alvarado as Cheyenne, Scot Brakeley

as the Referee, and John Herring as Crow.

In the next chapter, the use of masks in the pro­

duction will be discussed. This symbol and its many

levels of reality constituted the major portion of the

directorial approach.

CHAPTER II

MASKS: METAPHOR AND METHODOLOGY

The use of the mask in the directorial approach to

the production was the most important choice made in

relationship to the mise-en-scene. Primarily, the mask

functioned on two levels which were distinct, but organ­

ically inseparate. These were the mask as visual meta­

phor, and the mask as an actor tool in finding characteri­

zation in the process of rehearsal. (This latter idea

will be discussed later in the chapter,)

In finding a metaphor for the play, the script was

examined on a cultural level. How did the events which

framed Hoss's world of high visibility, unimaginable fame,

and ruthless power struggles comment on the present promi­

nence of media in society? In an era of electronic com­

munication, data and visual images of a person can be

received anywhere in the world arena in seconds. A whole

day's activities of the President of the United States can

be followed and scrutinized by the whole country. This

phenomenon serves to elevate celebrities to the level of

mythological characters. More important, many media

figures, especially performers, manipulate the data com­

municated about them and project images or myths of their

own choosing. In other words, they create their own mask.

A mask, or the principle of maskness, can be defined as

any mechanism or behavior which is designed to project a

6

2 sense of the self.

The concept of the many social masks or persons

employed by today's superstars, especially rock music

performers, seemed to fit perfectly the dilemma faced by

Hoss. H^^is the victim of his own performer image. Forced

to hide from the public in a mansion, he can only watch as

younger versions of himself plot to destroy him. He is

surrounded by characters who wear their own set of masks,

depending on their perceptions of their own security

within Hoss's domain.

To carry these ideas in the visual elements of the

play, a decision was made to use masks literally as a

scenic and costume metaphor. Of course, a certain amount

of selectivity had to exist to keep the motif simple, yet

integral to the action. The masks would just be used by

Hoss and Crow, in support of ritual elments best described

by Richard Schechner, in his discussion of the acting

exercise, "Ritual Combat," in Environmental Theatre:

The pattern of "Ritual Combat" is classic; presentation and display, preparatory war dance, combat, triumph dance and lament, resurrection and celebration.3

2 Richard Schechner, Actor Training 1, ed. Richard P. Brown (New York: Drama Book Specialists/Publishers, 1972) 72.

-^Richard Schechner, Environmental Theatre, (New York: Hawthorn books, 1973) 159.

R Besiaes supporting the idea of the play as a ritual

of death and rebirth and embodying the concept of role-

playing within this ritual, the mask was used as an icon

to clarify action in the play. An icon, in simple terras,

is a recognizable sign or symbol. A rhythm is movement in

time; an icon is a stop-action, a condensation of movement

into an arrested moment, a gesture, an arrangement. ^

The following paragraphs explain more precisely these

uses,

Two poles were designed into the set, upstage right

and left of the throne, the central scenic element. As

the lights fade up, Hoss sits motionless in his throne,

perhaps the statue of a fallen warrior. He rises and

ceremonially unmasks himself, hanging nis mask on the

upstage pole. He begins to sing "The Way Things Are."

The lyrics complement this action with their coiimient on

appearances:

You may think every picture you see is a true history Of the way things used to be or the way things are Whether you're riding in your radio or walkin' through the late, late show ain't it a drag to know you just don't know You just don't know So here's another illusion to add to your con­fusion of the way things are."

"^Schechner 310-11.

^Sam Shepard, Seven Plays, (New York: Bantam Books, 1981) 2U5.

The hanging mask begins to represent the myth of

Hoss's image to the other characters. It is a symbol

of class to Galactic Jack: "Right now the crown sticks

where it fits and it looks about your size."6 The mask

is a sign of territorial possession to Crow, who fingers

it contemplatively, while laying out the demands of his

victory to Hoss: "This is what I want,"7

Crow enters in a mask, rising out of the faceless

audience. His mask is covered with fragments of mirrors,

reinforcing the idea of Crow's ability to adopt different

personas, the ability which inevitably enables him to

defeat Hoss in the style match. Crow displays his mask on

the empty pole beside Hoss's mask as a territorial stake,

a challenge. The relationship of the mask to performer is

mentioned by Shepard himself in "Crow's Song," sung as

ritual of preparation:

But I believe in my mask-The man I made up is me

I believe in my dance and my destiny.8

Later in the play, after Hoss has been defeated and

is unwilling and unable to accept a new way of existence,

he decides to save face by committing suicide. Hoss dons

his mask and stabs himself with a knife. (Shepard suggests the idea of a gun, but a knife was used to retain

6shepard^ 213.

7shepard, 244.

Sshepard, 244.

10

a primitive, ritual feel.) As Crow assumes Hoss's place

in the cycle of power, death and rebirth, he removes

Hoss's mask (now a death mask), places it on his own face,

and poses in the position Hoss was at the beginning of the

play. The message, concerning the perpetuality of the

situation, is clear.

A purely technical direction, in relationship to the

mask, was given to the actors. Gestures covering the face

in various fashions were set into the physical picture at

different points in the action. Thus, the mask communi­

cated on suggestive, physical terms.

So far the discussion has centered on the mask as

metaphor. The use of the mask as an acting tool, however,

was as important to the realization of the production. It

aided the actors in finding a physical vocabulary for the

piece; their own is conographic gesturing. The play's

language creates problems of comprehension; the dialogue,

especially that spoken by Crow, is ambiguous in form and

content. The words, used often on a purely symbolic

level, required a heightened physical sensitivity and

expression in order to become recognizable to audience.

The direction that this approach took is partly based

on principles and exercises discussed by Libby Appel in

Mask Characterization. The thrust of Appel's work and its

incorporation into the directorial philosophy is best

expressed in the foreword to her book:

11

Not only do we wish the actor to experience the established results of working with raasks-that of stimulating the imagination, putting greater emphasis on physical actions, acting with the whole body, and ridding the actor of self-conscious mannerisms—but we want the actor to create a fully dimensional character, which could be created after the mask is removed—a character which has little or no relation­ship to the actor's social persona.

The actual mechanics of mask work in rehearsal can

take on many forms, depending on the desired results.

Much improvisational work was done in rehearsals early on,

primarily to remove actor inhibition over bodily contact.

The play called for a strong commitment to the action on a

physical level, and the mask provided a persona v;hich

could act more freely and expressively to pursue that

action.

In all pre-script work, actors chose their own mask,

as long as the mask suggested something about their char­

acter to them. This was preceded by a physical tuning

through the centering process which will be discussed in

the next chapter. When the mask was donned, the rules for

work were set up, mainly that the mask was a complete

physical mask, as if the actor's body were being fitted

into the model of a different being. Then the actor was

always directed to explore the space around him and exper­

iment with his body. All references to the creation of

the new character were made in direct relationship to

character.

^Libby Appel, Mask Characterization: An Acting Process, (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1982) xi.

12

The following illustration suggests the type of pre­

script work done, specifically with the actress playing

Becky Lou. An important idea to the directorial inter­

pretation of the character was that the girl represented

all women to Hoss: wife, whore, mother and sister. This

personality allows her to remain close to Hoss and with­

stand unharmed his violent mood shifts. A situation was

set up, with the throne (a folding chair) resting in the

center of the stage area. The actors playing Hoss and

Becky Lou completed the preparatory warm ups and centering

exercises and were in their character masks. They had

begun to waltz about the stage as young lovers. They

froze on command and were told of the existence of the

throne and instructed to consider carefully its impli­

cations for their characters. They moved into action,

with Hoss staking out the chair and refusing to let Becky

near it. Becky was coached to pursue the action of a

sister fighting with her brother for some shared object.

They began to hit and slap each other like quarreling

siblings. They changed roles upon command. Becky became

the jealous lover, seeing the throne as a woman competing

for Hoss's affections and began to bite and scratch in

order to get to the chair. Hoss was the errant child and

Becky the angry, frightened mother jerking him away from

the throne, an open bottle of poison. Each phase was

given time to develop sufficiently at first before

switching roles. Later the command to change was given so

13

rapidly, the roles Becky assumed began to meld. The

action of the exercise continued without intervention by

the director. Becky and Hoss were involved in physical

action which was character-related and defined their

interaction in a spatial context relating to the language

used, which came solely from the script.

The work then moved to emotion memory, the principle

of Stanislavski's acting methodology which calls for the

actor to re-experience strong emotional memories in order

to portray those emotions on stage more authentically.

Becky was again asked to wear the various "masks" of

female identity. She was asked to believe Hoss was a

lover, leaving her life forever. The two actors were

distanced apart and neither was allowed to move. Hoss

could only react physically to Becky's laments. The scene

built in emotion and physicality as Becky, or rather the

actress portraying her, keyed into an emotional connection

in her own past. The action was halted, and the masks

were removed. The actors continued for a moment, and then

the action was stopped. They were asked to maintain eye

contact and to observe their feelings with masks off.

All of the pre-script work with the actors existed in

this type of structure. A strong emotional/physical

reaction was sought, using the mask as a means to char­

acter action. Original plans for mask work had included

carrying through the technique into text work; however, a

cast change after rehearsals began forced abandonment of

14

that phase, due to time concerns.

In conclusion, the mask had a unique dual role in the

production concept. It served as the central device for

communicating the play's theme of artifical personas,

created for the benefit of the media spotlight of society.

The mask was also used as an actual actor to reduce in­

hibitions and to encourage greater physical response to

the language. In the next chapter, the process of phys­

ical centering will be discussed as another means of

pursuing the directorial concept of creating the char­

acter/performers through the body.

CHAPTER III

PHYSICAL CENTERING

The second of the ritual elements used in the direc­

torial approach to The Tooth of Crime was physical cen­

tering. This principle involves creating heightened

sensitivity in the body to specific sources of psychophys­

iological energy. Once identified and controlled, these

four centers—head, chest, stomach and gentials—can aid

in the creation of the physical character or mask. This

technique was especially helpful in dealing with Shepard's

monologues, where characters sometimes change identities

or switch from narrative to dramatic action and back

again.

The philosophy of acting centers is defined quite

well by Robert Benedetti in The Actor at Work. He defines

five centers and the personality types that he associates

with each:

I can suggest five primary character centers that by bodily logic and by cultural traditions, are each associated with different type of person: head (the cerebral and/or sexually repressed person), the chest (the sentimental or even the "militaristic" person), the stomach (the indulgent person), the genital (the li­bidinous or perhaps the naive person), and the anus (the sexually withdrawn, "constipated" person). We have all known people to relate the worlds from one of these centers and who carry with them their own minute variations on the base themes of this center.10

10 Robert L. Benedetti, The Actor at Work, (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1976) 79.

15

16 In her acting text. Time, Space and Design for

Actors, Maxine Klein explores this concept further,

providing many exercises designed to give the actor com­

mand of his centers. Thus the actor can summon certain

emotions by activating center energy with mental image.

However, she focuses on only four acting centers, ex­

cluding the anal center mentioned by Benedetti, This use

of only four centers was practiced in this production's

approach also. It was felt that any stimulus contained in

the anal center was capable of being illuminated through

one of the other four.

The methodology developed for this rehearsal process

was an adaptation of these ideas. The actors concentrated

on activating their acting centers through real and

imagined tension, and letting the center energy affect the

physical and emotional imagery of the text. The center

would form the foundation for the entire character, rather

than activating each center for its emotional response

from one scene to the next, as Klein suggests.

Center work was part of all rehearsal processes.

Actors were free to choose their own character centers,

although guidance was given to those actors unfamiliar

with the concept. Also, since mask work usually followed,

actors were encouraged to let their center energy

influence their choice of masks.

17 After warm-ups, the actors lay on the floor and

neutralized any tension in their bodies. Through sug­

gestive imagery, they were led to imagine and physicalize

the sensation of all their energy being directed into a

body center. Likened to a vacuum effect, the actor's body

would draw up tightly around the center area. Then the

energy was directed to flow away from the center, causing

the body to expand. Through repetition of this exercise,

it was hoped the actor would begin to feel and focus a

strength radiating from the center.

The actors were then told to let lines of dialogue

flow with no particular intention. This exercise allowed

the actor to experience the relationship between the

physical/emotional feel of the center and its effect on

the delivery of the lines. Generally, this process led

into experimentation with gesturing.

Not unlike Brecht's idea of "gestus," the direction

of the rehearsal work progressed toward finding the

telling or revealing gesture that defined the character in

a broad sense, the gesture that would help the recogni-

zability of the character as "myth." Centering work was

an immense aid in these investigations. As the work

advanced to the "gesture" phase in rehearsals, different

variations were used. One of the most effective

rehearsals occurred when the actors were told to think of

themselves as three entities: as actor, as character, and

as performer, the stages in which a person might exist

18

within a ritual role-playing scenario.

The actors were called upon first to perform their

lines with the physical gestures used by themselves as

real persons. Then the process was repeated next with the

gesturing of their characters, and finally, the physical

movements of themselves as performers. No definition or

explanation was given by the director beyond this in­

formation. The actors, however, responded with their own

concepts of these physical states, mostly using their

centers to increase and enlarge the physical definition of

the dialogue as they moved from actor to performer. The

transformation commands were sped up, making the switches

almost simultaneous. The result was an increasing aware­

ness by the actors of the different physical levels

demanded by the script. When are these persons, bred by

the illusions of the performance industry, reacting to one

another as characters, or when are they merely performing

for each other? Further, when are they just actors, role-

playing within a ritual of death and regeneration?

A more specific use of centering focused upon work

with monologues in the play, particularly those of Hoss.

As mentioned previously, a characteristic of Shepard's

monologues is a shift in persona in either of two ways:

the character changes identity in the course of the mono­

logue, or he switches from narrating an incident to acting

it out and back again.

The primary speech chosen for center work was Hoss's

monologue at the end of Act I, Exhausted and frightened,

Hoss carries on a conversation with his father (himself),

trying to find comfort and guidance from his past, as he

awaits his upcoming showdown with Crow:

Hoss: (old) All right, Hoss, this is me talkin'. Yer old dad, Yer old fishin' buddy. We used to catch eels side by side down by the dump. The full moon lit up the stream and the junk. the rusty chrome flashin' across the marsh. The fireflies dancin' like a faraway city. They'd swallow the hook all the way down. You remember that? (himself) Yeah, Sure, (old) O. K, You're hot so bad off. It's good to change. Good to feel your blood pump, (himself) But where to: Where am I going? (old) It doesn't matter. The road's what counts. Just look at the road. Don't worry about where it's going, (himself) I feel so trapped. so fucking unsure, Everyting's a mystery. I had it all in the palm of my hand. The gold, the silver, I knew, I was sure. How could it slip away like that? (old) It'll come back. (himself) But I'm not a true Marker no more. Not really. They're all countin' on me. The bookies, the agents, the Keepers. I'm a fucking industry, I even affect the stocks and bonds. (old) You're just a man, Hoss. Just a man, (himself) Yeah, maybe you're right. I'm just a man.^^

Shepard calls for this scene to be played sitting in

the throne. Any delineation of character, therefore, must

be achieved physically and vocally, from the waist up. It

was important to capture the essence of the old man and

not a caricature, since the scene was serious in tone.

The actor playing Hoss had chosen a strong chest

center for his character; therefore, he decided to use a

-'-'Sam Shepard, Seven Plays, (New York: Bantam Books, 1981) 227.

19

20 head center for the old man. After center activation

work, he was asked to sit and recite the monologue in a

straightforward manner. Then two chairs were placed on

stage, facing each other, Hoss sat in one, the director

in the other. The monologue was read like a dialogue,

with the director playing the part of the father, Hoss

was urged to physicalize fully his part through his chest

center. Then the roles were reversed, as Hoss read the

old man, working the words and phrases through his head

center. This sequence was repeated for some time to

enable the actor to fully explore the old man persona.

At that point, the director removed himself from the

situation, leaving the actor alone with the two chairs.

Now he was to perform when playing Hoss, When he came to

the old man's lines, he activated his head center, walked

to the other chair, sat, aligned himself, and played the

old man, focusing on the imaginary Hoss in the other

chair. When the monologue shifted to Hoss, the actor had

to repeat the process and cross back to the other chair,

assuming the chest center and physical expression of Hoss,

Because the two personas often only have a single line

before changing, the process was slow. The actor worked

diligently and managed to create two distinct person­

alities. Finally, he was allowed to sit in the throne and

perform the piece as it is called for, simply and

directly.

21

Basically, the same process was used in dealing with

Hoss's monologue earlier in Act I, describing a gang fight

in which he was involved in high school. This time, the

problem lay in the change from narrative to dramatic

within the piece. When the scene was worked, Hoss was

coached to use his chest center for the present-day or

narrative portions, and switch to his genital center for

playing in the past, as this center is considered a more

emotionally volatile source of energy.

Physical centering proved to be a solid, successful

foundation in forming the physical life of the production.

The type of exploration it afforded, along with the mask

techniques, helped to illuminate and clarify much of the

action within the script. However, one further element of

ritual was utilized, perhaps the most integral—music and

rhythms. Those investigations and observations are

elaborated upon in the next chapter.

' CHAPTER IV

MUSIC/RHYTHMS

The third ritual element engaged in formulating the

directorial approach for this production was music/

rhythms. These discussions shall consist of two sections:

the framework, providing for the composition of original

music, created by the director, and the rehearsal tech­

niques involving music/rhythms and the actors, as they

searched to define the physical life of the play.

Because of the absence of certain royalty restric­

tions, the option to compose original music for the lyrics

contained in the script became a possibility early in the

preparations for the show. One version of the play was

discovered with the music composed by Shepard for the

original production in London in 1972, The music, how­

ever, seemed dated and crude, unable to support the action

of the play, in the manner envisioned by the director.

The decision was made to include a composer on the pro­

duction staff to work with the director in creating a

score with certain motifs and structures in mind.

The score was written for and performed by a six-

piece band: lead guitar, rhythm guitar, bass, piano,

saxophone, and drums. This arrangement provided the

greatest amount of flexibility needed to perform the wide

range of musical styles in the performance, styles which

incorporate the whole of American popular music, including

22

23

rhythm-and-blues, jazz, rockabilly, and "heavy metal" rock

music.

No doubt, the creative process which conceived the

music is too intangible to document in its entiriety. In

general, the discussions between the director and the

composer centered around concepts of style, mood,

character action, rhythms, and leitmotifs. The use of

leitmotifs and an explanation of their inception provides

the clearest insight into the director-composer colla­

boration and attempts to use the music to verify the

dramatic action.

Through staging and the use of the character masks,

it was hoped the final scene of the play would suggest the

role reversal, which had taken place during the second

act. Crow had now taken Hoss's place as the king, only

too aware that the fate which claimed Hoss would soon be

his own, in the perpetual cyle of death and rebirth. Crow

sings the final song, "Rolling Down," as an anthem of

victory and a prayer to the powers that be, to allow him

his time as king. The idea emerged of composing "Rolling

Down" so that the chords of "The Way Things Are," Hoss's

signature tune, could be merged subtly into the song's

structure. Therefore, the music itself reflects and

completes the action of the play.

The style match in Act II was generally created

musically by improvisation by the composer, and by the

fact that certain styles were specifically called for in

24

the script. Some musical effects were also used to punc­

tuate certain moments in the production which foreshadowed

the climax, such as Galactic Jack's announcement that

Gypsy was tracking Hoss. This inclusion was made to

enhance the theatrical, storytelling style of the pro­

duction. Entrance music was also performed for some of

the characters, such as Star Man,

An important factor in defining the physical action

of the play lay in the experimentation with the rhythms

and musicality of the dialogue and their effect upon the

actor's body. The te> t, with its cadences of alliteration

and unique idioms, projected its own kind of violence,

which extended to the realm of physical expression.

Explorations in rhythm work took on many forms. As

often as possible, music accompanied warm ups. One

rehearsal consisted of the actors engaging in pure

abstract movement to taped music, A basic part of all

rehearsal work was to take lines of dialogue and repeat

them, until they produced a rhythm in the body. The

rhythm was enlarged and expanded until it involved move­

ment ot the entire body. The actors were set into inter­

action with each other, using their lines and body rhythms

for communication. One evening the central throne

platform on the set became a huge drum to which the actors

brought their rhythms. Lines were shot back and forth

between the actors, sometimes as chants and sometimes as

songs. The result was a wonderful ritual atmosphere,

created by the actors, their text, and their rhythms.

Music and rhythms were also beneficial in monologue

work. Hoss's "high school" speech, discussed briefly in

Chapter III, had so many emotional and tempo shifts that

it was decided to rehearse and eventually perform the

piece accompanied by a pianist and a saxophonist.

Musician and actor would improvise, feeding off of each

other's rhythms and emotional timbres, much like jazz

improvisation. Two rehearsals were also held with the

director creating collages of chords and rhythms on the

piano, while the actors rehearsed the first act. The

thrust was to provide stimuli on an auditory level to

cause further discoveries by the actors, as they con­

fronted the language of the play.

Using body rhythms also aided in helping to clarify

character action for the actor playing Galactic Jack.

Galactic Jack is the most rhythmic character in the play,

but the incessant tempo of his disc jockey prattle had to

find different physical levels or the character would be

pure caricature, A rehearsal was held with just the

actor. After some preparatory work, the actor was told to

establish a physical rhythm in the lower half of his body.

Next he was to begin a rhythm in the upper half of his

body. He was then coached to let the rhythms occur simul­

taneously, while he moved about the stage and spoke lines.

The process was repeated, putting the right side of his

body against the left side. The actor began to gain

25

insight into the levels of ambiguity and physical signals

that were open to him for projecting the distrustful

quality of the character.

Other rehearsals included the actors singing their

lines, as if they were rock stars. One phase of the warm

up saw the actors standing in a circle, touching. One

person would begin singing and sustain one note of any

pitch and volume. The others would join in, sometimes

matching the pitch, sometimes harmonizing with it. Grad­

ually, the tones would shift, and a new arrangement of

notes would emerge. The result was a symphony of pure

vocal energies, created by the actors themselves.

The use of music/rhythms as an acting tool provided a

perfect complement to the mask and centering work used in

the directorial approach. It provided a framework for the

actors to explore the physical identities that they were

creating through the elements of ritual previously dis­

cussed. Ideally, more rehearsal time could be spent with

this concept, depending on the length of rehearsal period

allowed. Even with the limited time afforded this pro­

duction, tangible results were obtained to the director's

satisfaction.

26

CHAPTER V

CONCLUSION

The success sought by this production of The Tooth of

Crime was perhaps different from other productions.

Admittedly, taking responsibility for producing this play

carries with it the risk of commercial failure, that is,

poor box office intake and/or simple audience rejection of

the production. Fortunately, the kind of artistic envi­

ronment in which this play was produced relieved the

artists of many concessions usually made to please local

audiences. Hopefully, this type of environment will

always exist.

The success of this production occurred as much in

the rehearsals as in the performances. Success was de­

fined by the growth and the risks taken by a group of

relatively inexperienced actors, who allowed themselves to

approach theatre differently than they had before. Suc­

cess was defined by their willingness to perform a play

which would never provide the positive audience feedback

that a Neil Simon comedy or a musical would. Success was

further defined by the new plateaus experienced by a

young, unsure director who wanted to learn.

In retrospect, the use of ritual elements as a

directorial approach is a valid thrust in exploring this

play and would be used again, if the occasion arose.

Certain connections made while using methodologies based

27

28

on these elements provided more exciting discoveries about

the play than any traditional analysis or approach could

have offered. Most important, it gave the director,

designers, and actors a chance to challenge their own

ideas of the creative process of theatre—a chance which

comes not often enough for theatre artists seeking growth

and identity in America today.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Appel, Libby, Mask Characterization: An Acting Process. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1982,

Benedetti, Robert L. The Actor at Work. Englewood Cliffs, N.J: Prentice-Hall, 1976.

Klein, Maxine. Time, Space and Design for Actors. Boston: Houghton-Miffiin, 1975.

Moore, Sonia. The Stanislavski System. New York: Penguin Books, 1983.

Schechner, Richard. Actor Training 1. Ed. Richard P. Brown. New York: Drama Book Specialists/Publishers, 1972.

, Environmental Theatre. New York: Hawthrone Books, 1973.

. Essays on Performance Theory 197 2-7 6. New York: Drama Book Specialists/Publisners, 1977.

Shepard, Sam. Seven Plays. New York: Bantam Books, 1981,

Smith, Susan Valeria Harris. M&sks-. in Modern Drama. Berkely: University of California Press, 1984.

Turner, Victor. From Ritual to Theatre. New York: Performing Arts Journal Publications, 1982,

29

APPENDIX

Produc t ion Program

30

31

Nniboiianv ONId33NiONi

ivurumaitisv

oo ' ts BXvaB i n v y^gg sue

a k J V d B H a lAIVB

81N383dd

3U1V3H1 a V l MUSUdMNO H33J SVXai

-<

1 2 o

t3 C

o <>

oo

o

*.-' a t ' . Q o o s:

•5 cJ • V 5: pi t - Ci o o ^ * • o ^ S H S4-.S -C -If

y d * : '

3:

UJ

t j -

•w * ^ c •-,, cvv -H ' I O p. ^ 3 r-l CJ 1-1

l i O O r s; M a o 3

: i o ^ •

t— •o - » 1 u. c

H « -rt X t j ^

en in 01

o

:5

U. c -Q

- c o * : ' o «? o

• - l Ck. >-v

CJ •v

CJ :> o

c:>

CJ

H3

CJ

cJ

2

^ ^

CJ « -e 3 e j

cJ

E Z-CJ

CJ > V

Q

"a

CJ

CJ

•V cJ o

o Pi

• ^

CJ - C cJ

-3 Cj

•5

•X3 O O

. cJ CT,-0 CJ

5 l ^ s: «i< "H cj r* - c

-s : cJ t -t - 3 -

C i

32

CO

O *^ CJ

ca E J : O CJ

. O CJ

«-• o KJ cJ

•Q cJ CJ « S - q CJ ^ "^ « 3 =o -cr H

UJ

O CJ

O CO

e ' UJ

CJ *-> VJ t j >> -a

- = : CJ 3 3

• a a : o

C^ CJ C/l

: s i

u

CJ -J

<-/ •3

3

5

• J cJ

S CJ

CO .

.3 o

-3 o

• o

CJ

oo

o CJ *^ --J VI

cJ 2 " d <vJ

CJ -t O W

^ 3

ex.

UJ

o

i O Q o o o o c i o c o o n o •5 CO

CJ "V • CJ; O

T3

•J cr.

1

^-2 3 I- O *r

cJ V

X V C a) ci) «? - « -Q - C

<v 3 c o u -^ »-> CK: CO

«x -cj ' E <y i n; o c Qj

• r j V} f i VI

*J CJ O CJ CJ . * o CO

- < Q ) «i) r S »-> V

en Cj

*:•

« UJ ci

CJ CJ CJ <3- ,V V

•5 .

• 1 CJ

I -

Ck. O- oo

-<

l -

co < —J

^ -

»-. a U J

: r—• 2 r j

X C_»

\^

^ X UJ

^ 4J

;v < j c) *e Q.

O i

o

u.

o

a: 1—

o o K-

UJ

a:

"T3

^ U . cJ

E r3

oo

:r. -o

•3%

1 3

cJ • V

S i

-a CJ

-a Cj

o

E Q O

O

o o a:

:5i

c CD

3

cn

T3

ci

O OO

5^ -O

cn •-v

3 T3 Q_ 3 I

cJ c3

••-J

* Cj

-a •w cJ

3 •rs

• \ i t:' - J

^<o

o Cj

U3

sr Q

';s o 3

O

c eJ

•3

cJ (X

CJ

- - • • « — • - « " * + •