The Vertical of the Role: A method for the actor's self-preparation

By Jurij Alschitz and Christine Schmalor

Today’s actors must be able to perform as soloists in the worlds of theatre and film. The technique of the ‘Vertical of the Role’ enables actors to develop their independence and autonomy when analyzing their roles, leading them to become authors of their own art in their own right. It offers the basis for all manner of successful auditions, but also for artistic interaction within an ensemble and with a director. Generations of actors have grown up with Stanislavsky’s classic, ‘The Actor’s Work on Himself’, but the theatre of the 21st century with its own framework of production demands new forms of independent work from the actor. Jurij Alschitz has developed the method of the ‘Vertical of the Role’ during his years of detailed research into theatre practice. The research was carried out in European Theater Centers which Jurij Alschitz himself established in Germany, Italy, and Scandinavia and the results of this research have been tested and successfully applied on stage in theatre practice all over the world. In this book, Jurij Alschitz offers his thoughts on the ethics of the acting profession. He views the actor as the author, creator, and center of the dramatic performance, who must consequently be equipped with the appropriate technical skills to fulfill this wide range of tasks. The successive phases of the actor’s work on the ‘Vertical of the Role’ are explained in detail, ready to be used by the actor, or to form a basis for teachers and directors who wish to apply this method. A separate chapter describes daily training for the actor on the basis of practical exercises.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AKT-ZENT
• Release date: Dec 31, 2003
• ISBN: 9783946735021

Jurij Alschitz

Director, theatre teacher and academic, Dr. Jurij Alschitz, received his first director training in Moscow under the tutelage of Prof. J. N. Malkovsky (a former pupil of Stanislavsky). After several acclaimed productions, he continued his education with a second course of training at GITIS Russian Academy for Theatre Arts, under the instruction of Prof. M. Butkevich and Prof. A. Vasiliev, where he subsequently held a teaching post. In 1987, he took part in the foundation of the theatre ‘School of Dramatic Art – Anatoly Vasiliev’, where he established his own rehearsal and training methods. From there, Jurij Alschitz went on to further develop the methods of the famous Russian theatre tradition, creating his own unique pedagogical system, whereby training forms the central basis of educational and rehearsal techniques. In 1992, Jurij Alschitz established his own “School” by teaching and directing at various universities and drama schools throughout Europe and which led to the opening of International Theatre Centres in Berlin, Stockholm, Oslo, Rome and Paris, now commonly known as The European Association of Theatre Culture. EATC has created an extensive network of ideas and a teaching ensemble with the ongoing aim to channel new theatre impulses and instigate practical research. His books have been published in a range of languages and offer practical theatre exercises and advice for thousands of students, teachers, actors and directors.

Book preview

Jurij Alschitz

The Vertical of the Role

a method for the actor’s

self - preparation

translated by Natalia Isaeva

editing and the chapter on actors’ training

contributed by Christine Schmalor

translated by Hugh Rorrison

ars incognita

Berlin 2003

Part I

The actor’s

self - preparation

"It is pleasant, my friends, to sit and listen to you here,

but … to sit alone in a hotel room learning a role

… how much more exciting !"

Arkadina, The Seagull by A. Chekhov

1. Changing territory – leaving the theatre

Each and every profession has its own secrets – and there are enough of those secrets in actor’s work. My own mother was an actress and I often watched her on the sly while she was preparing her roles – wherever it might be – in a hotel room, on a garden bench, or in a train carriage. I always considered that process to be far more interesting than any of her real rehearsals in the theatre or even the theatre performances themselves. That is why, even now, it is with special awe and trepidation that I wait for that magical hour when intimate contact is finally established between an actor and the persona he is about to play, when one is about to witness the beginning of the role’s new life, when the actor enters into close artistic contact with his personnage. It is truly a magical, secretive moment. Normally, in artistic circles one prefers not to talk too much about it. It remains something exceedingly private. During that time the actor usually tries to stay alone. One assumes that no-one should bother him and that no-one can help. It is his secret. The secret belongs to him and to him alone, and no-one has any right to intrude here. This, however, is a myth – albeit a beautiful one.

Every profession has its own special secrets but also its own corpus of definite knowledge. Every kind of work is better left in the hands of a master. And whatever the cloud of mystery enveloping the actor’s profession, whatever the legends associated with it, ultimately it is only professional mastership that determines whether an actor really belongs there. It is this aspect that should ultimately interest those of us who professionally study theatre, especially its less known areas. One of those mysterious areas of the actor’s profession is when the actor works on his role by himself.

My experience of working in theatre and teaching theatre has led me to a very simple conclusion: the actor only becomes the master and the real author of the role if he is able to work on it by himself, independently of any other mediation or intrusion. When he becomes a real author he assumes responsibility for the life of his work; no-one else is accountable for it. It is from this standpoint that I construct my relations when working with actors; it is this attitude that I regard as true and genuinely promising. Unfortunately, even today there are still unwritten laws on how to conduct rehearsals, demanding that the director depict in detail the outline of the actor’s role, the way it is constructed, and how it is to be lived through on the stage. From an artistic point of view this situation corrupts actors, destroys their creativity, and transforms the acting profession into a purely instrumental one.

Every actor and every director knows how often in theatre precious time is squandered unnecessarily. Some rehearsals boil down either to learning the text by heart or to some futile exchange of fleeting impressions brought about by the memories of someone’s personal life. At this kind of rehearsals an actor may arrive totally unprepared, totally empty, – and for the most part that is the state he leaves in after the rehearsal is over; and nobody is going to notice anyway. This passive squandering of time destroys creative energy and brings about sterility of thought. It is humiliating enough to be forced to attend rehearsals – but it is even more offending when only one of the partners working together actually prepares himself for the meeting while the other is content to arrive there empty and boring. In a situation like that I always have a feeling of smelling stale mothballs, I literally feel that I am getting older by the hour, being dragged down together with this dead theatre. I am really afraid of this kind of work and from time to time feel nothing but sincere revulsion for it. If, by way of contrast, both the actor and the theatre director bring along a whole inventory of ideas and suggestions, if they try to realise their dreams and fantasies, if they resolve their doubts together – then the rehearsal becomes an important event, a crucial point eagerly awaited and diligently prepared.

Recently in the theatre I have noticed an alarming development. The time allocated for rehearsals is gradually being reduced. One has to fight for every additional day: one has to explain that the limited rehearsal period also limits the creative search both by the actor and by the director, that it is forcing them to concentrate not on the process itself but on the result. Everybody agrees that this development cannot be good for the theatre but the situation only gets worse. Indeed, it has become fairly obvious that to withstand this pressure one has to change the very method and technology of one’s work on a role and on a theatre production as a whole. The winner will be the director who is first able to change the emphasis of his work with the actor.

To my mind, the matter of concern should be shifted towards the actor’s individual preparation. The actor’s homework should take up the greater part of the whole period of preparation but at the same time it should be organised more methodologically, more saturated with special exercises. This guidance should become really professional, it should no longer be like looking for a black cat in a black room. Theatre rehearsals should take at most a third of the time given over to the preparation of the role and of the production itself. And their quality should not be judged by the amount of time spent; rather, everything should be defined by the content of these rehearsals. Let them be short and sporadic – the important thing is that they should be well prepared and fruitful. The actor’s independent preparation on a higher level