Almost a year ago an actor I was working with came up to me and asked if during a romantic scene they could kiss their acting partner without warning them beforehand, so the scene would be more natural. I said no, probably not, but I would need to go away and think about it, as this is the first time I’m dealing with that kind of question. So I did and we ultimately rejected the idea.
However, I found the possibility of working in that way troubling so I thought about it more. And more. And more. This has to be the fourth time I’m rewriting this text. It never made it to the blog until now, because I knew that it lacked a convincing explanation for the way I felt.
So here is the thing:
In October 2015 I sat in the first row of the Bedlam auditorium watching Pedro Leandro’s production of “Who is Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”. Being so close, I could see Caroline Elms’ arms were covered in bruises from the action that took place on stage night after night. I thought it was a masterful performance and I admired her dedication. There I was appreciating a performance – an imagined life in a constructed reality – that had a physical effect on the actress’ body. Yet a few month later I was immediately against the idea of violating someone’s personal boundaries in order to create a more believable scene. What’s the difference? It’s consent, of course. Stage consent, where you, the real you, agree to an act as a character that you are embodying.
Today, The Guardian published an article pointing out an interview with Bertolucci from 2013, which, for some reason only came to our attention now. In the interview, he talks about the fact that the “scene with butter” was filmed without Maria Schneider’s consent. I read the article, I watched the interview and felt absolutely sick. This is a film endlessly discussed in art circles, studied at universities and whatnot. We watch the violation of a 19 year old girl over and over again, we talk about it as one of the strongest scenes in film history, all because Bertolucci wanted to “get a reaction of the girl, not the actress”.
The moment you get the reaction of someone as an individual, not as an actor it’s no longer acting – it’s real life. And it should be judged as such. This is the reason why we have actors – so you work with people who know how to act out humiliation, passion or brutality. Act it out, not live it.
The job of the director is to help actors draw out those emotions. If, however, you are making your actors live them out you are not a successful director, you are a monster.
Theatre Machine 