A Deleuzian Reading of Spike Lee's "Do the Right Thing" and Tracey Moffatt's "Night Cries" ... crystalline narration and time-images

The Deleuzian concept of the actual image and its paralleling virtuality is at the heart of crystalline narration. Crystalline narration is film narrative composed entirely of crystal-images. As an incarnation of the time-image, the crystal-image coalesces together the actual image and the virtual image.[1] This momentary fusion, or crystallisation, of the two ignites a point of indiscernibility, at which, the differentiation between the actual image and the connoted virtual image becomes imperceptible.[2] Gilles Deleuze saw an individual crystal-image, at its point of indiscernibility, to be a proficient direct manifestation of time, whereby “the present is the actual image, and its contemporaneous past is the virtual image, the image in a mirror.”[3] Deleuze says that we see a bi-faced image of time in the crystal-image – that is, time that splits the present into two heterogeneous directions, one of which is launched towards the future while the other falls into the past.[4] Virtual images are fragments of the past that come to colour the actual image; they add another (subjective) layer of meaning onto what is (objectively) already there on screen. These virtual images typically take the form of interiors, such as memories, dreams, hallucinations and speech-acts.[5] In the same fashion, a film composed of crystalline narration can be considered as a film that is essentially one massive crystal-image, or alternatively, a continual chain of actual images and virtual images that interact and exchange positions.[6] In this crystalline state, the delineation between the exteriority of the actual image and the interiority of the virtual image blissfully blur to the point of indiscernibility.

This essay, as it has already begun to do so, will first explicate Deleuze’s cinematic concepts of the crystal-image and crystalline narration. It will then examine this image in relation to its aptitude for demarcating the actual and the virtual, the exterior and the interior, the objective and the subjective, the subject and the object, the public and the private, the political and the personal, and the present and the past; however as the crystal-image reaches its peak, its point of indiscernibility, these binary oppositions escape their respective borders and blur into one. I will attempt to map out this dynamic process as it appears in Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing[7] and Tracey Moffatt’s Night Cries: A Rural Tragedy[8].

Time-images are created from optical and sonic images that break with the sensory-motor schema (what Deleuze called opsigns and sonsigns).[9] When an actual image is cut off from its sensory-motor extension, it fragments into either an opsign or a sonsign. These two singular fragment-images, because they have been disassociated from their sensory-motor extension and from the film’s logical (causal) trajectory, produce an interval (‘any-space-whatever’). This interval respectively relaxes the viewers’ sensory-motor schema and offers them a moment to gather their thoughts. In these reflective moments the viewer invents a virtual image, or virtuality, to reconcile meaning between opsigns, sonsigns, the actual image and narrative continuity; the virtual image envisaged in the viewer’s mind is summoned from his past (memories, dreams, experiences, collective and personal clichés) and supplements his perception and understanding of the actual image. As Henri Bergson explains, within an individual’s relaxed sensory-motor world, objects become both more and less than they are otherwise.[10] Ronald Bogue elaborates on this belief as he remarks that humans perceive objects through their accumulated experiences of them, through their memories, fears, desires, and plans, loading them with characteristics that extend into complex patterns of association and anticipation; selective perceiving as individuals ignore those aspects of the object that do not interest them.[11] Accordingly the virtual image, as Deleuze writes, can be thought of as a double or a reflection of the actual image.[12] More fascinating though, the virtual image that the first actual image connotes can inversely in turn be actualised. These two images when they coalesce together constitute the crystal-image. The crystal-image reaches its peak at the ‘point of indiscernibility’ and the demarcation between the actual and the virtual becomes unassignable.

Crystalline narration can be considered as a variation on this theme, as film narrative trajectory presented through a continual chain of actual and virtual images that coalesce, crystallise at the point of indiscernibility, and swiftly exchange positions. Bogue describes a film composed of crystalline narration as being itself “a massive crystal-image” where “its construction proceeds along various circuits of exchange among indiscernibles … the same circuit … [passing] via three figures, the actual and the virtual, the limpid and the opaque, the seed and the milieu.”[13] He further asserts that “crystalline states are crystals of time not simply because they disclose the coexistence of actual present and virtual past in every moment … but because they reveal different ways in which the whole of that great ocean of the [collective and personal] virtual past may be related to the ongoing actualisation of time in a present moving toward a future.”[14] The employment of crystalline narration transforms the film into a cinema of poetry, wherein the actual image is the text, and the virtual image is the connoted literal and metaphorical meanings that the reader emanates from this text. This poetry mimesis faculty of the crystal-image, along with its reverential point of indiscernibility, enables not only the actual to melt into the virtual (and vice versa) but also for the film’s subjects to collide into its objects and its binary oppositions to collapse onto each other.

As noted above, crystal-images only come into existence when the sensory-motor schema, of both the actual image and the viewer’s, disintegrates. Deleuze identified five instances or scenarios of when this occurs:

1) The dispersive situation; when the links between actions and milieus are stretched and relaxed, loosely constructed.

2) The deliberately weak lines; when gaps in the action arise because continuousness of the action-image does not persist.

3) The balade-form; when an aimless wandering affects the action and the sensory-motor rhythms are replaced by the rhythms of a light stroll, jaunt or continual round-trip journey.

4) The consciousness of clichés; the parodic handling of the modern world as a realm of clichés.

5) The denunciation of the conspiracy; stories of diffused conspiracies, anonymous plots and ubiquitous technological surveillance.[15]

These five are instances of when action, time and milieu (setting or situation of the image) do not collate together; it can be said that these are of moments when action is blocked and the interplay of the interval, op and son signs and the crystal-image bursts forth.

In Do the Right Thing, Mookie’s leisurely paced pizza deliveries permit the camera to playfully wander around the block, briefly tracking the day-to-day stories of its ethnically African-, Porto Rican- and Korean-American residents. This balade-form/jaunt that Mookie evokes changes the rhythm of the film, moving it from being a conventional fast-paced, purely cause-and-effect sensory-motor action narrative to a relaxed sensory-motor round-trip journey continuously open to the possibilities of new aural and visual rhythms.[16]

Laleen Jayamanne writes in her article ‘Do the Right Thing: Blocking and Unblocking the Block’ that “critics [and viewers] tend to move quickly to the violent moments … and forget to register the non-eventful, leisurely moments.”[17] She goes on to explain that this is due to viewers’ hasty attempts at narrativising the film; to read its main events as being the burning of the pizzeria and the murder of Radio Raheem.[18] She remarks how this kind of reading is at complete odds with the majority of film wherein nothing much happens – “people just hangin’ around, going up and down the block, looking, talking, looking for trouble, just listening to music, drinking, combing hair, just passing the time.”[19] It is during these moments when both the film’s and viewer’s sensory-motor schema is most relaxed and the splendid appearance of unique characters, new aural and visual rhythms, and op and son signs motivates the creation of crystal-images. Many of these crystal-images excite a pragmatic discussion on African-American history, racial politics, intercommunity relations and identity; they evince that great ocean of the virtual past as it structures the ongoing actualisation of time in a present moving toward a future.[20]

One crystalline moment is the interconnected murder of Radio Raheem and the burning of the pizzeria, the supposed climax of Do the Right Thing. This event is triggered by Sal allowing a few customers to come in after they’ve just closed shop for the day. In this brief re-opening, Radio Raheem and Buggin’ Out also seek out another opportunity to protest and demand that Sal put up some brothers on the wall; their symbolic choice of weaponry here is rap music – Public Enemy’s ‘Fight the Power’. Sal yells at them to shut off the “jungle music” and then smashes the radio with a baseball bat after they refuse. This then sparks a physical brawl between Sal and Raheem, of which during there is a cut to a shot of a framed picture of Muhammad Ali in a boxing match with an Italian-American – a momentary virtual past image that intensifies the violence. Later on, the fight is taken outside and the rest of the block joins in on the hollering. Soon the police (“New York City’s finest”) arrive and arrest the two instigators; three of the policemen, in wrestling with Raheem, choke him. After they leave, there is a poignant panning shot of the block recalling and remembering the murders of African-Americans committed by state police: “Mookie they killed him, they killed Radio Raheem / Murder, they did it again just like Michael Stewart [1958 – 1983][21] / Murder, Eleanor Bumpurs [1918 – 1984][22], Murder / Damn man, it’s ain’t even safe in our own fucking neighbourhood / Never was, never will be / We ain’t gonna stand for shit no more Sal you hear me, ain’t gonna stand for the fucking police, punk / This is plain as day, they didn’t have to kill the boy.” Here, the public hollering transforms into a poetic incantation. The crystal-image emerges as the actual image deliberately and literally exhumes the virtual past – Raheem’s death is compared to that of other real-life police brutality victims. Due to this, the separation between the past and the present, the private and the public, the localised and the national, and the personal and the political obliterate and blur into one. Another actual-virtual circuit that this event conjures pertains to African-American comedian and activist Dick Gregory’s speech ‘Human Rights and Property Rights’: “Understand young folks, when you put property rights ahead of humans rights – understand you’re tampering with nature … you see, property rights is controlled by man, and human rights is controlled by nature.”[23] Linking the event to this speech illuminates not only how much of a historical re-enactment the event essentially is but also how much of a racial-political divider it can be. Lee himself even explains how there is a division between black and white reception over Mookie and his throwing of the garbage can through the window (which initiates the pizzeria’s burning): “No black person has ever asked me, “Did Mookie do the right thing?” Never. Only white people. Black people, there’s no question in their minds why he does that.”[24]

Do the Right Thing’s preoccupation with the names of public figures, such as the remembrance of the victims of police brutality, Sal’s wall of fame, Smiley’s two political idols and Love Daddy’s radio roll call, is fascinating. These moments of dedication excite the sensory-motor schema and result in the creation of crystal-images; they take the film out of its own internal verisimilitudinous microcosm and place it in a reality that is even more familiar to the audience. The camera’s close-up of Sal’s Italian-American wall of fame with Frank Sinatra, Liza Minnelli, Robert DeNiro and others transforms it into an opsign. This opsign brings with it a virtuality of Italian-American identity and territorialises the pizzeria; unifying one’s private identity with one’s public identity. Similarly, Love Daddy’s roll call of past and present African-American artists “… Tracy Chapman, Miles Davis, Duke Ellington … we wanna thank you all for making our lives just a little brighter” is a sonsign, and through the evocation of those names a black cultural identity and history of suffering and perseverance materialises in the form of a virtual image. This specific virtual image is actualised in the poignant scene where the youth taunt Da Major; they calling him “a bum, an old drunk zero”, and he responds defiantly: “what do you know about me … about anything, unless you don’t stood in the door listening to your five hungry children crying for bread, and you can’t do a damn thing about it, your woman’s standing there and you can’t even look her in the eye, unless you done that, you don’t know me, my pain, my feelings.” Even more polemical is the boy answering back with no real historical insight into African-American suffering: “You’re right I wouldn’t stand in the doorway … I’d be out getting a job, doing something anything to put food in their mouth … I don’t want to know your pain … you’re the one who put yourself in the situation.” Through its two-sided debate on African-American self-determinism, this crystal-image encapsulates time. Moreover, Smiley’s constant promotion of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King in his speech-acts emphasises how political ideology can have a direct influence on one’s personal lifestyle. Ultimately, the crystal-images here are used to recall an African-American history for the purpose of examining the progress of these people.

In a similar fashion, Moffatt’s Night Cries also deals with the politics of remembering and the history of a people who have been dispossessed by the governmental powers that be. Here, crystal-images facilitate the film’s exploration of the official policy of assimilation and its effects by bringing forth memories from the past into the present. Night Cries has been called “an autobiography of a whole generation of Aborigines.”[25]

It presents a unique case of an aging white mother and her adopted middle-aged Aboriginal daughter. The political circumstances that formed their relationship are explored through the many memory-flashbacks. These flashbacks emerge because there are deliberately weak lines/gaps in the action-image. In the scene where the daughter feeds the mother, there are extreme close-up shots of their facial features, particularly the eyes. The camera then turns to the array of framed childhood photographs on the mantle. This is a crystalline moment as the virtual image of the daughter remembering happier childhood times coalesces with the actual image of the photographs.

Another crystal-image moment is when the daughter places clothing on the washing line. Here, a mid shot captures Marcia Langton’s frustrated body as she heaves, and squints her eyes; what she seems to be glaring at is her memory of playing on the beach with her adopted mother. Peter Kemp, in his analysis of the film, describes this memory as being equally joyous and traumatic in that, when the mother leaves for a brief moment the daughter’s worldview becomes confused, and “seaweed being happily hurled instantly transforms into globs of thick, dark videotape.”[26] Meaghan Morris in her article ‘Beyond Assimilation: Aboriginality, Media History and Public Memory’ seems to concede with this description as she notes that here “the daughter remembers a childhood crisis of loss and abandonment (and perhaps comes close to remembering an earlier crisis, the loss of her black mother).”[27] The common virtual image that this memory-flashback evokes is of the Aboriginal baby/child being taken away from her biological mother, of the Aboriginal mother being left childless. This virtuality in itself is actualised through the very actual image that creates it; as Morris suggests that the child’s losing of her adopted mother at the beach comes to re-enact the child’s initial loss of her biological mother.

These two crystalline moments, along with the film’s final scene of the mother on her deathbed and the daughter crying in a foetal position beside her, ultimately portray their relationship as a bond of love and dependency;[28] that despite the damaging and regretful historical and political circumstances that unite them there still exists, at the core, an irremovable familial bond. The sonsign of the daughter’s crying, which replicates that of a baby’s crying, reinforces this sense of familial dependency.

In conclusion, both Lee and Moffatt employ crystalline narration for the prime purpose of evoking the past, and through this doing exemplify and reinforce Deleuze’s belief that the crystal-image is a proficient manifestation of time. The actual images of Do the Right Thing re-enact and recall an African-American history of suffering and perseverance; this virtuality is also in turn actualised. Similarly, Night Cries’ op and son signs remember the Australian Government’s official policy of assimilation, and throughout the film its ramifications are explored through the present lives of the mother and daughter. Ultimately, the crystal-images of these two films emphasise the thin and intricate line that separates the past and the present, the personal and the political, and the private and the public, and how often it is crucial to think of them as being bipolar facets of one notion – just like how the actual and the virtual images are different facets of the crystal-image.

Bibliography

Do the Right Thing. Dir. Spike Lee. Universal Pictures. 1989.

Night Cries. Dir. Tracey Moffatt. Ronin Films. 1990.

Batchen. Geoff. ‘Complicities’. Artful. College of Fine Arts Students Association.

October 1990.

Bogue, Ronald. Deleuze on Cinema. New York. London: Routledge. 2003.

Deleuze, Gilles. Cinema 2: The Time-Image. Translated by Hugh Tomlinson and Robert

Galeta. London: Athlone. 1989.

Jayamanne, Laleen. ‘Do the Right Thing: Blocking and Unblocking the Block’. Toward

Cinema and Its Double Cross-Cultural Mimesis. Bloomington: Indiana University

Press. 2001.

Kemp. Peter. ‘Night Cries: A Rural Tragedy’.

http://www.sensesofcinema.com/contents/cteq/00/10/night.html. Last accessed: 05/11/08.

Mockus. Martha. ‘Me’shell Ndegeocello’. Acampora. Christa Davis; Cotton. Angela L.

Eds. Unmaking Race, Remaking Soul: Transformative Aesthetics and the Practice of Freedom. New York: SUNY Press. 2007.

Morris. Meaghan. ‘Beyond Assimilation: Aboriginality, Media History and Public

Memory’. Aedon: The Melbourne University Literary Arts Review. 4.1. 1996.

Rolling Stone. ‘Spike Lee – the Rolling Stone Interview’. Rolling Stone. July 11-25. 1991.

Wikipedia. ‘Eleanor Bumpurs’. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eleanor_Bumpurs. Last

accessed: 05/11/08.

Wikipedia. ‘Michael Stewart (Graffiti Artist)’.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Stewart_(graffiti_writer)#cite_ref-2. Last accessed: 05/11/08.

---

[1] Gilles Deleuze, Cinema 2: The Time-Image, Translated by Hugh Tomlinson and Robert Galeta, London: Athlone, 1989, p. 69.

[2] Ronald Bogue, Deleuze on Cinema, New York, London: Routledge, 2003, p. 119.

[3] Bogue, p. 107.

[4] Deleuze, p. 81.

[5] Deleuze, p. 80.

[6] Bogue, p. 126.

[7] Do the Right Thing, dir. Spike Lee, Universal Pictures, 1989.

[8] Night Cries, dir. Tracey Moffatt, Ronin Films, 1990.

[9] Bogue, p. 107.

[10] Bogue, p. 110.

[11] Bogue, op. cit.

[12] Deleuze, p. 68.

[13] Bogue, p. 126.

[14] Bogue, op. cit.

[15] Bogue, p. 108.

[16] Laleen Jayamanne, ‘Do the Right Thing: Blocking and Unblocking the Block’, in Toward Cinema and Its Double Cross-Cultural Mimesis, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2001, p. 235.

[17] Laleen Jayamanne, op. cit.

[18] Jayamanne, op. cit.

[19] Jayamanne, p. 237.

[20] Bogue, p. 126.

[21] Wikipedia, ‘Michael Stewart (Graffiti Artist)’, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Stewart_(graffiti_writer)#cite_ref-2, last accessed: 05/11/08.

[22] Wikipedia, ‘Eleanor Bumpurs’, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eleanor_Bumpurs, last accessed: 05/11/08.

[23] Martha Mockus, ‘Me’shell Ndegeocello’, in Christa Davis Acampora, Angela L. Cotton, eds., Unmaking Race, Remaking Soul: Transformative Aesthetics and the Practice of Freedom, New York: SUNY Press, 2007, p. 85.

[24] Rolling Stone, ‘Spike Lee – the Rolling Stone Interview’, Rolling Stone, July 11-25, 1991.

[25] Geoff Batchen, ‘Complicities’, Artful, College of Fine Arts Students Association, October 1990.

[26] Peter Kemp, ‘Night Cries: A Rural Tragedy’, http://www.sensesofcinema.com/contents/cteq/00/10/night.html, Last accessed: 05/11/08.

[27] Meaghan Morris, ‘Beyond Assimilation: Aboriginality, Media History and Public Memory’, Aedon: The Melbourne University Literary Arts Review, 4.1, 1996, p. 12.

[28] Morris, op. cit.

American Method Acting and Brechtian Epic Performance Explicated... in terms of Implicit Theories of the Self

As promised, this is a paper which explicates two theories of acting, namely the American Method and Brecht's Epic Performance, and attempts to understand them in terms of 'implicit theories of the self' or 'topographies of the self'. This was the final assignment for a Performance Studies unit that I did at Sydney University, and surprisingly received 94/100 for it, with an overall course mark of 89/100. I hope it's an interesting read.

The deconstructionist Jacques Derrida, in remarking Western philosophy, comes to imply that the process of theorising ‘the self’ is one, which is conceivably marked by difference.[1] Derrida regards the self and other mental and phenomenal events as products of difference, wherein such an ‘event’ is defined by its relation to what it is not rather than its essence.[2] Derrida’s insight into the way people philosophise about the world, and subsequently about ‘the self’, is ironically and self-reflexively, unto itself, also just a philosophy. Regardless of this theoretical peccadillo, it is undoubtedly worthwhile to consider the methodologies and analytics of deconstructionism and post-structuralism when evaluating different approaches to and theories of acting. In fact, it seems very much so that the discipline of performance studies, at present, borrowing also from anthropology, psychology and sociology, has contentedly adopted this seemingly diagnostic methodology and worldview. In this way, Roach and Zarrilli, asks us to be cognizant of the (metaphorical) language, assumptions and ideologies that often permeate discourses of acting.[3] Zarrilli also, whether identifying as a ‘Deleuzian post-structuralist’ or not, notes the discrepancies that may exist between theatre/acting theory and practice; that often, the way in which theorists think of acting may not necessarily translate vis-à-vis onto practice.[4] And actors, in recognising the limitations of language in representing acting, may have no choice but to “live by” metaphors.[5]

This essay, as it’s begun to discursively do so, will explore two approaches to acting, namely Bertolt Brecht’s Epic performance and the American Method, and evaluate the ways in which they have been informed by implicit theories of the self. This exploration will make use of an array of theoretical concepts, belonging to Auslander, Appadurai, Derrida, Roach and Zarrilli, among others, to discern what is truly at stake (be it on a theoretical or a practical level) when approaches to acting are intricately and inextricably tied to a particular theory or topography of the self.

Firstly, in framing the premise of this essay, it will be instrumental to consider Auslander’s thesis. Auslander observes that theorists, as diverse as Stanislavsky, Brecht and Grotowski, “all implicitly designate the actor’s self as the logos[6] of performance; all assume that the actor’s self precedes and grounds [his] performance and that it is the presence of this self in performance that provides the audience with access to human truths.”[7] Here, Auslander is expressing this notion that in order for the spectator to derive meaning and ‘truths’ from the performance, he must be cognizant of the implicit theory of the self that the actor is seemingly embodying and presenting. Auslander further adds a remark by Chaikin for clarification: “Acting is a demonstration of self with or without a disguise,” wherein for Stanislavsky, this disguise is the actor’s own emotional experience, for Brecht, it’s the separation of the role from the actor’s own persona, and for Grotowski, it’s the divorcement from socialisation;[8] this idea that for a thorough grasp of the particular acting theory’s techniques, it necessitates an appreciation of the theorist’s underlying conception of ‘the self’. In contemplating these perspectives, Auslander discriminately arrives at his main thesis; he purports that “the self is not an autonomous foundation for acting, but [rather] is produced by the performance it supposedly grounds.”[9] Auslander clearly rejects any notion of the self as being self-evident, and suggests that the relationship between the self and the acting theory may not necessarily be one that privileges the former over the latter, but rather the two may be conceived of simultaneously; existing on equal planes. Furthermore, even if we do accept the argument that a distinct theory of the self precedes an acting approach, it does not preclude the possibility of the acting in (re)shaping and revising our theory of the self.

Appadurai also presents a convincing argument regarding the relationship between ‘the self’ and, in this instance, non-acting performance/acting. His peculiar phraseology of ‘topographies of the self’[10] implies that the theorisation of ‘the self’ is a process of survey and revision, of the content of the topography as being gleaned from historical-cultural everyday phenomenon, such as praise or any other form of linguistic interaction. And while there may be a dominant topography of the self that pervades, or underlies, a certain milieu, topographies can also vary individually – especially in this age of globalisation and multiculturalism, by the same token, this coalescence of nations and cultures may also generate an indistinct global topography of the self. Regardless, Appadurai still emphasises the utmost importance of testing topographies ethnographically.[11] He also delicately maps out a Western topography of the self, asserting that it is “anchored in a spatial image of layers … [with] the affective bedrock … directly tied to the somatic side of personality.”[12] Indeed, it will be imperative to entertain this conception of the Western ‘self’ against Brechtian and Method acting, two approaches that presumably draw from, and influence, such a ‘self’.

In addition, both Auslander’s concept of the cross-pollinating two-way street of acting/theatre and ‘the self’, and Appadurai’s argument of topographies of the self as being extractable from everyday phenomena, relate closely to Zarrilli’s thesis of “theatre-making [as] a mode of socio-cultural practice … not an innocent or naïve activity separate from or above and beyond everyday reality, history, politics, or economics.”[13] Zarrilli, in echoing the other two theorists, explains that “theatre is a complex network of specific, interactive practices … which helps to constitute, shape, and affect ‘selves’ as well as historical events and relationships.”[14] As mentioned, it is on these terms through which a consideration of Brechtian and Method acting occurs. Moreover, Zarrilli’s position of the active role that theatre plays vis-à-vis society, interestingly, reflects Brecht’s position on the matter too.

Brecht’s writing on acting is intricately linked to his overall conception of theatre. Brecht seemed to theorise about acting insofar only as it served the formation of his ‘Epic Theatre’. Brecht wanted directors together with their actors, in their (epic) theatre productions, to realise their interpretation of the play/text; however, this interpretation, as Brecht stipulated, must identify and critique the macrocosmic forces (social, historical, cultural conditions) that have shaped the characters’ relationships, lives and world.[15] His theatre’s most fundamental principle was its activist commitment to social change, and in facilitating this, it had to present society and human nature as being changeable.[16] The means by which this occurred was through interpretive examples, not by direct depictions, as Brecht explicitly wanted to draw attention to theatre’s contrived, artificial nature: “[theatre] consists of the production of living illustrations of historical or imaged occurrences between people.”[17] Brecht was against ‘illusionist theatre’ and consequently aimed to demonstrate that the concept of ‘the structure of society (represented on the stage) as capable of being influenced by society (in the auditorium)’ was both possible and ideal;[18] this resonates strongly with Zarrilli’s thesis, in that Brecht’s theatre does not play a merely passive role in society, but rather has the power to change it. Brecht’s prime concern for his Epic Theatre was to show human behaviour as alterable, of man being determined by certain political and economic factors and, more crucially, “at the same time as capable of altering them.”[19] Thus, an aspect of Brecht’s topography of the self emerges here, one that is similar to the Western version, in that it is seemingly layered; influenced by a wide set of institutional (political, economic) factors. This understanding of the self is very much in the vein of the classical Marxist tradition of ‘Dialectical Materialism’ – “the idea that the individual is created by socio-political and economic factors and is, therefore, able to change his circumstances and environment.”[20] Brecht sinisterly saw these (man-made) factors/structures as often being used by men to oppress other men, and thus will be changed by men.

Brecht devised his acting theory in the context of achieving his politicised Epic Theatre. One such technique, the Alienation Effect (‘Verfremdungseffekt’), attempted to “make the spectator adopt an attitude of inquiry and criticism in his approach to the incident[s]”[21] illustrated on stage. Thus, this acting technique served to help realise the director’s textual interpretation and, from that, the historical determinants or “dark powers” that oversaw the materialisation of the incidents.[22] The A-effect first consisted of the actor’s acknowledgement of the removal of the fourth wall, as well as ‘magic’ and ‘hypnotic tensions’.[23] In drawing attention to the artificial nature of theatre, the actor’s relationship to the audience is no longer made on the basis of empathy, rather on the basis of critical and political awareness.[24] Moreover, the focus of this acting was not on the characters themselves, but rather on what happens between them, and with this, it offers enough information for the audience to discuss, criticise and change the characters and their milieu.[25] Rouse comments that Brecht shifts the focus away from the individual and the psychological to that of the group and the sociological.[26]

The aim of the A-effect is to make the actor’s object (character’s incident) “appear strange and even surprising to the audience;”[27] to de-familiarise familiar phenomena and people so as to make spectators see them from fresh angles.[28] In this way, Brecht did not want his actors to be completely transformed nor immersed by their roles, instead to simply present their characters with distance; it is through this detachment in which the actor is in a position to both remark and invite criticism of his character.[29] Three aids, which Brecht developed to help the actor maintain this distance, are (1) transposition into the third person, (2) transposition into the past, and (3) speaking the stage directions out loud.[30] Brecht condemned Stanislavsky’s “forcing of empathy” and actor/audience identification with the character in that it “encouraged spectators to resign themselves to the status quo by presenting [people] as powerless victims of their heredity and environment;”[31] circumstances are here ‘given’ and, to that extent, are not subject to question.[32] Brecht, however, in using his theatre to demonstrate that for any given situation a large number of options are available, aspired to show that social reality is neither determined nor always defensible.[33] The A-effect, nevertheless, is not devoid of emotions or empathy. The matter comes to be that emotions are instead reconfigured, wherein the spectator is free to experience different emotions from the characters; as Brecht explains, “[the spectator] can experience anger when the character on stage experiences joy.”[34] Hence, the actor is still allowed to run the gamut of emotions, given consideration of his character’s situation, of course.

Brecht’s other principal acting technique is the Gestus. Gestus is best understood as “a physical action or spatial configuration which reveals the ideological, social and economic relations between two or more characters.”[35] Thus, it is very much reliant on symbolism and allegory, as Bradley explains that in scene 6 of Brecht’s 1951 production of The Mother (Die Mutter), the tableau configuration of the teacher standing under the Tsar’s portrait while declaring that it would be senseless to educate the masses tenably exposed the Russian education system as a mouthpiece for the Tsar’s ideology and a hindrance to political change.[36] As a physical action, the gestus takes the form of bodily gestures and actions; these are meant to be expansive and are not psychologically connected to the character.[37] Krause notes that this in stark contrast to the Method, whereby actors are trained to work ‘from the inside out’; “waiting for [a] physical movement to be inspired by a psychological impetus, thereby ensuring a [subdued] lifelike result.”[38] Brecht offers a warning: “expressions of a gest are usually highly complicated and contradictory… the actor must take care that in giving his image the necessary emphasis he does not lose anything, but [emphasises] the entire complex.”[39]

As mentioned, Brecht’s topography of the self is of Marxian provenance. Brecht’s self is characterised by a conscious and a subconscious mind, with both being susceptible to social indoctrination, particularly the latter. The self is shaped by a diverse set of macrocosmic/institutional forces (politics, economics, religion, culture, history, etc.) that seem ‘given’, but man is capable of waking himself up from them and changing these (man-made) conditions. This aspect is reminiscent of a Western topography as it implies that the self is layered, with different institutional forces affecting different layers. As a Marxist, Brecht used epic theatre to highlight the ways in which the bourgeois oppressed the proletariat, but such a tool could equally be used to reveal the constitutions of race or gender.[40] Brecht ultimately saw the self in close relation to its environment, changeable insofar as society’s institutions change too.

Method’s topography, although also conceivably Western, is expressed differently. According to Group Theatre founder/director Harold Clurman, Method acting is a “means of training actors as well as a technique for the use of actors in their work on parts.”[41] Like Stanislavsky’s system, from which it’s derived, Method is best understood as a “procedure, not a series of rules to be applied specifically.”[42] The aim of this acting theory is to enable actors to create realistic and truthful behaviour in imaginary circumstances, as Krasner notes, “it trains the actor to make demands on the body through the use of stimuli and imagination, so that the body responds creatively.”[43] The process, through which the actor acquires this, as Lee Strasberg explains, is via “work in two spheres – the actor’s work on himself and the actor’s work on the role.”[44][45] Counsell, however, argues that the notion of a performance being ‘realistic’ is not an inherent feature of the actual performance, but rather derived from the way it’s received; realistic acting is the mode deemed realistic by its viewing culture, its innate artificiality comes to signify the ‘real’.[46][47] Robert Lewis notes that real behaviour on stage must be “really experienced, but artistically controlled, and correctly used for the particular character portrayed, the complete circumstances of the scene, and the chosen style of the author and play being performed.” Counsell develops this contention to its logical conclusion and argues that although certain (Hollywood) practitioners may perceive the Method as a ‘self-evident’ way to act, it is essentially just another acting style with its own iconography (repertoire of movements, postures, speech, etc), and ultimately actors draw from this pool of performance signs when they perform.

Method acting, in drawing on the actor’s life, past experiences, emotions and, even, personal traumas, implies that the self is a repository of memories; a deep and complex psychological being that is able to generate layers of meaning in an acting or non-acting performance, which lie beyond easy comprehension.[48] This also indicates that there is both an inner and an outer appearance or incarnation of the self. Strasberg’s private moment/affect memory exercise requires actors to tap into their repository, as they use personal stimuli to recall physical sensations, which then transfigure into a sensory image.[49] This sensory image subsequently motivates associated emotions and physical actions. The aim is to strengthen the links between sensory images and emotions, so that the actor is able to respond creatively on stage.[50][51] Moreover, the understanding of the self as a complex psychological being has resulted in the Method’s consideration of subtext and the employment of improvisation. From improvising, the actor builds a detailed inner life for the character, one that is sovereign from the play. This is divergent from Stanislavsky, whose characters are created to satisfy the play’s requirements, whereas in the Method, they are constructed despite those requirements, whereby the character’s internal reality takes precedence over the play.

Charles Marowitz writes that Method acting “encourages the actor to approach a role as if it were an invitation to reveal himself.”[52] This is related to both Stanislavsky’s concept of ‘perezhivanie’: of ‘experiencing’ and ‘living through’ the role, and Stella Adler’s acting ‘from yourself’ idea, where, after defining the difference between his behaviours and the character’s, the actor acts without thinking where his personal action ends and the character’s begins.[53][54] Krasner elucidates: “Authenticity appeals to the inner life construed as an expression or state of the self, offering physical and psychological understanding of identity. [And although] the social world may compel self-awareness of our class, gender, race, and/or ethnicity … the alleged true self is thought of as independent of the social world.”[55] Similar to Brecht’s topography, this ‘self’ is layered, with different institutional forces (i.e. economics, gender, race, etc) shaping different layers. These forces may also coerce humans to identify with a singular aspect of their identity (such as race) over and above the self’s totality. There’s also an allusion to the ‘true self’, the primordial somatic side of the self that’s independent of social constructs and labels and which resides at the bottom of these layers. This ‘true self’ seems to be a-cultural, responding only to instincts and impulses. There emerges here, this requirement of transformation, of behaviour on stage as being “really experienced.” The Method clearly rejects indicating and external imitation, something that Brecht contrastingly promoted in his acting approach. This notion of authentic behaviour on stage can be seen as originating from the American cultural value of authenticity. This value stemmed from America’s struggle to define its national identity at the fin-de-siècle and undoubtedly has affected Method’s topography of the self.

Method’s reliance on the self has attracted much criticism, however, these criticisms are fallacies in that they fail to fully realise the topography of the self that underlies this acting theory. One such is Brustein, who criticises Method actors for their seemingly lack of versatility; because of their interests in the self and themselves, Method actors “usually purvey a single character from role to role, one that is recognisably close to his own personality.”[56] Krasner refutes this claim and argues that the Method’s ‘self’ is “neither static nor fixed, but evolving … human beings reinvent themselves continuously. The self changes by entering into new relationships, and the actor must bring new ideas to each successive characterisation.”[57] Moreover, it also implies that there are different sides to a person. Hence, the actor is more than allowed to focus on himself when working on a new role, and this is not at the risk of perpetuating a fixed characterisation. Subsequently, this demonstrates the necessity of understanding the acting theory’s topography of the self prior to applying the acting techniques.

In conclusion, this essay has described two approaches to acting: Brecht’s Epic performance and the American Method, and attempted to map out the distinct implicit theories or topographies of the self that seemingly pervade and underlie each approach. In doing so, it first explored the theoretical premise by which acting has come to be thought of as being informed by a version of ‘the self’, borrowing namely from Auslander, Appadurai and Zarrilli. Both Brecht’s and the Method’s theories of the self are comparable with a Western topography of the self, though expressed and emphasised differently. Both see ‘the self’ as being layered, with macrocosmic/ institutional forces affecting the individual’s understanding of it. Brecht saw these forces of economics, politics and religion as changeable; in fact, of them needing to be changed as often they’re used by men to oppress other men. Method acting concurs with this understanding, but asserts that the ‘true self’ is independent of these socio-cultural constructs/labels; that although different layers of the self (e.g. class, gender, race, etc) come to affect one’s identity, there still remains an incorruptible, universal primordial self. In contrast, Brecht believes the self, or rather both the conscious and subconscious mind of the self to be extremely susceptible to the social world. Method also theorises the self in terms of the mind, in that it perceives the self to be a repository of memories – a deep and complex psychological being. These ideas of the self have undoubtedly informed the content of their respective acting theories and, more often than not, an appreciation of this topography is necessary prior to the application and appropriation of the acting theory.

Bibliography

Appadurai, Arjun. ‘Topographies of the Self: Praise and Emotion in Hindu India’. Catherine A. Lutz and Lila Abu-Lughod (ed.)’s Language and the Politics of Emotion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. p. 1990.

Auslander, Philip. ‘“Just Be Yourself”: Logocentricism and Difference in Performance Theory’. Phillip B. Zarrilli (ed.)’s Acting (Re)Considered: Theories and Practice. London and New York: Routledge. 1995.

Bradley Laura. Brecht and Political Theatre: The Mother on Stage. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. 2006.

Brecht, Bertolt. Brecht on Theatre. John Willet (ed.). New York: Hill and Wang. 1964.

Clurman, Harold. The Collected Works of Harold Clurman. Marjorie Loggia and Glen Young (ed.). New York: Applause. 1994.

Counsell, Colin. Signs of Performance: An Introduction to Twentieth-Century Theatre. New York: Routledge. 1996.

Eddershaw, Margaret. Performing Brecht: Forty Years of British Performance. London and New York: Routledge. 1996.

Krasner, David [A]. ‘Strasberg. Adler and Meisner: Method Acting’. Alison Hodge (ed.)’s Twentieth Century Actor Training. London and New York: Routledge. 2000.

Krasner, David [B]. ‘I Hate Strasberg’. David Krasner (ed.)’s Method Acting Reconsidered: Theory. Practice. Future. New York: St. Martin’s Press. 2000.

Krause, Duane. ‘An Epic System’. Phillip B. Zarrilli (ed.)’s Acting (Re)Considered: Theories and Practice. London and New York: Routledge. 1995.

Lewis, Robert. Method or Madness? New York: Samuel French. 1958. p. 99.

Marowitz, Charles. Stanislavsky and the Method. New York: Citadel. 1964.

Mitter, Shomit. Systems of Rehearsal: Stanislavsky, Brecht, Grotowski and Brook. London and New York: Routledge. 1992.

Roach, Joseph R. ‘Preface’. The Player’s Passion: Studies in the Science of Acting. Newark: University of Delaware Press. 1985.

Rouse, John. ‘Brecht and the Contradictory Actor’. Phillip B. Zarrilli (ed.)’s Acting (Re)Considered: Theories and Practice. London and New York: Routledge. 1995.

Zarrilli, Phillip B. Acting (Re)Considered: Theories and Practice. London and New York: Routledge. 1995.

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[1] Philip Auslander, ‘“Just Be Yourself”: Logocentricism and Difference in Performance Theory’, in Phillip B. Zarrilli (ed.)’s Acting (Re)Considered: Theories and Practice, London and New York: Routledge, 1995, p. 59.

[2] Philip Auslander, ibid.

[3] Joseph R. Roach, ‘Preface’, The Player’s Passion: Studies in the Science of Acting, Newark: University of Delaware Press, 1985, p. 16.

Phillip B. Zarrilli, Acting (Re)Considered: Theories and Practice, London and New York: Routledge, 1995, p. 8.

[4] Phillip B. Zarrilli, p. 1.

[5] Phillip B. Zarrilli, p. 10.

[6] Logos = Logocentrism: the orientation of philosophy toward an order of meaning – thought, truth, reason, logic, the World – conceived as existing in itself, as foundation.

[7] Philip Auslander, p. 60.

[8] Philip Auslander, ibid.

[9] Philip Auslander, ibid.

[10] Arjun Appadurai, ‘Topographies of the Self: Praise and Emotion in Hindu India’, in Catherine A. Lutz and Lila Abu-Lughod (ed.)’s Language and the Politics of Emotion, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, p. 1990, p. 92.

[11] Arjun Appadurai, p. 92-93.

[12] Arjun Appadurai, p. 93.

[13] Phillip B. Zarrilli, p. 1.

[14] Phillip B. Zarrilli, p. 2.

[15] John Rouse, ‘Brecht and the Contradictory Actor’, in Phillip B. Zarrilli (ed.)’s Acting (Re)Considered: Theories and Practice, London and New York: Routledge, 1995, p. 229-230.

[16] John Rouse, p. 230.

[17] John Rouse, ibid.

[18] Duane Krause, ‘An Epic System’, in Phillip B. Zarrilli (ed.)’s Acting (Re)Considered: Theories and Practice, London and New York: Routledge, 1995, p. 262.

[19] Bertolt Brecht, Brecht on Theatre, John Willet (ed.), New York: Hill and Wang, 1964, p. 86.

[20] Margaret Eddershaw, Performing Brecht: Forty Years of British Performance, London and New York: Routledge, 1996, p. 2.

[21] Bertolt Brecht, Brecht on Theatre, John Willet (ed.), New York: Hill and Wang, 1964, p. 136.

[22] John Rouse, p. 231.

[23] Bertolt Brecht, p. 136.

[24] Laura Bradley, Brecht and Political Theatre: The Mother on Stage, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2006, p. 5.

[25] John Rouse, p. 230.

[26] John Rouse, ibid.

[27] Bertolt Brecht, p. 92.

[28] Laura Bradley, p. 6.

[29] Laura Bradley, p. 5.

[30] Bertolt Brecht, p. 138.

[31] Laura Bradley, p. 4.

[32] Shomit Mitter, Systems of Rehearsal: Stanislavsky, Brecht, Grotowski and Brook, London and New York: Routledge, 1992, p. 42-43.

[33] Shomit Mitter, p. 43.

[34] Laura Bradley, p. 7.

[35] Laura Bradley, p. 6.

[36] Laura Bradley, p. 5-6.

[37] Duane Krause, p. 268.

[38] Duane Krause, ibid.

[39] Bertolt Brecht, p. 198.

[40] Duane Krause, p. 265.

[41] Harold Clurman, The Collected Works of Harold Clurman, Marjorie Loggia and Glen Young (ed.), New York: Applause, 1994, p. 369.

[42] David Krasner [A], ‘Strasberg, Adler and Meisner: Method Acting’, in Alison Hodge (ed.)’s Twentieth Century Actor Training, London and New York: Routledge, 2000, p. 134.

[43] David Krasner [B], ‘I Hate Strasberg’, in David Krasner (ed.)’s Method Acting Reconsidered: Theory, Practice, Future, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000, p. 5.

[44] David Krasner [B], p. 4.

[45] Robert Lewis, Method or Madness?, New York: Samuel French, 1958, p. 99.

[46] Colin Counsell, Signs of Performance: An Introduction to Twentieth-Century Theatre, New York: Routledge, 1996, p. 53.

[47] Colin Counsell, ibid.

[48] David Krasner [A], p. 130.

[49] David Krasner [B], p. 12.

[50] David Krasner [B], p. 19.

[51] David Krasner [B], p. 16.

[52] Charles Marowitz, Stanislavsky and the Method, New York: Citadel, 1964, p. 43.

[53] David Krasner [B], p. 4-5.

[54] David Krasner [B], p. 25.

[55] David Krasner [B], p. 27.

[56] David Krasner [A], p. 132.

[57] David Krasner, ibid.