Subtlety

Originally posted on www.cbtheatre.org

Within Isaac Asimov’s Foundation lies one of my favorite lines in literature: “It pays to be obvious, especially if you have a reputation for subtlety.” We’re at the point in our process where we seek ways to apply that forwards and backwards to the show we’re building.

All week we’ve been dealing with polishing those moments that need it. Until now there have been placeholder pieces; bits of blocking or fight choreography that have not been the primary focus of a scene and thus could wait until now to be properly addressed. Things like finding the right mix of pride and agony in a death howl, or a pleasing blend of arthritic tension and fluidity of movement, or what kind of non-contemporary-American hand gesture doesn’t also mean something naughty in sign language. Turns out that last is surprisingly easy.

One of the primary challenges has been performing in Klingon. Naturally the pronunciation was a trial, and we’ve been working hard to keep it accurate (or, at least, consistent) with the rules laid out by Dr. Marc Okrand, the linguist who invented the language – but that’s actually not the most difficult part. We have been well supported by Klingon speakers and friends of the show who attended our language intensive rehearsals. They helped us enormously by – for example – recording every line in the show for us to listen to and repeat over and over. Protip: the CTA is a wonderfully fun place to practice your Klingon.

We’ve gotten so good at the language by now that the most frequent note the actors are getting is slow down. We’re aware that our audience will not, on average, be fluent in the language we’re speaking. The production will have English supertitles above the actor’s heads just like watching a foreign film, but this idea doesn’t appeal to everyone, of course; just check out some Anime forums on sub/dub wars. When watching a movie (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon keeps coming to mind) sometimes things can happen fast and a bit of dialog gets missed by the audience. This is especially true of the fight scenes.

We have an advantage doing this in live theatre, as opposed to a film, in that we can adapt our actions and the speed at which we speak so you don’t miss a thing. Indeed, I love how often we’re able to employ one of the early acting lessons I was taught: the audience should be able to watch a scene with the sound off and still have a full understanding of what’s happening. This is classic Stanislavski. If you’re wholly unaware of the dialogue you’ll still have an accurate understanding of the character relationships, the hierarchy, and the emotional state of each person. Thorough tone of voice, through physicality, and through each stage picture, you’ll be able to grasp every moment even if you happen to miss a line.

Don’t miss a line on purpose, though. There are some great ones in there.

The most fun place for me to explore physical storytelling is in the set of scenes for which I have no dialogue at all.

I’ve always been struck by the presentation of The Ghost of Christmas Future. Silent as the grave and a parable for the Grim Reaper, the only stage direction he gets is to point. The focus is and should be on Scrooge’s reaction to the shape his legacy will take. This is the chapter which pushes him over the edge and cements the alteration of his attitude.

As Kahless Future I get to explore elements of the character I’ve never noticed as an audience: shame, compassion, respect. I delight in finding ways to say look what you’ve done and how dare you as I lead SQuja’ from one example of his dishonor to the next. My favorite segment in the sequence is when we visit the QachIt home and – with the smallest possible gesture – I encapsulate the enormity of telling him look what you’ve caused to happen to other people.

When you come and see us, don’t worry about whether or not you’ll understand everything, because you will. You already know the story, after all. We just tell our version with fewer humans and more punching.