Messing with the Form: Reifying the Suzuki Method of Actor Training to Foster an Ensemble for Anton Chekhov’s Three Sisters _______________________________ A Thesis Presented to The Honors Tutorial College Ohio University ___________________________________________ In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for Graduation from the Honors Tutorial College and the College of Fine Arts; School of Dance, Film, and Theater with the degree of Bachelor of Fine Arts in Theater ___________________________________________ By Bri A. McCabe April 2017 2 Table of Contents Part One: Dramaturgy of a Play………..…………………………………3 Part Two: Dramaturgy of a Practice…………………………….. ……... .25 Part Three: Dramaturgy of an Ensemble………………………………… 38 Works Cited………………………………………………………………...50 Appendix A…………………………………………………………...........53 Appendix B……………………………………………………………….. 57 Appendix C……………………………………………………………….. 59 Appendix D………………………………………………………………...60 3 Dramaturgy of a Play: Anton Chekhov’s Three Sisters ………………………………………………………………………………………… BRI: Welcome, all. Thank you for joining us for Part One of our “Messing with the Form” Series. Today’s discussion will revolve around Anton Chekhov’s play Three Sisters—the creation, the dramaturgy, and a common problem with today’s productions. We have the honor and privilege of hosting a panel of experienced and distinguished guests, who have graciously offered their time to discuss Three Sisters with us here today. Our guests include the playwright himself, Anton Chekhov, his wife and actress, Olga Knipper-Chekhova, and Moscow Art Theatre co-founders, Konstantin Stanislavsky and Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko. For those of you not familiar with our guests’ work and presence in the theater world, you will find short biographies about each in Appendix A. All of the quotes that come from the text of Three Sisters are extracted from the 1992 translation by Paul Schmidt. Thank you to all for being here today. We will begin shortly. THE CREATION BRI: To begin our discussion of Three Sisters, I would like to focus on the creation of the play—how it came to be and who was involved in the development. The floor is open, so everyone please feel free to chime in whenever you’d like. Mr. Chekhov, would you start us off? 4 A. CHEKHOV: Sure, Bri. I wrote Three Sisters in the fall of 1900, during my time in Yalta. I had been working with the Moscow Art Theatre for a few years at this point. They had already produced two of my other plays, The Seagull and Uncle Vanya. Three Sisters was the first play I wrote specifically for them, for their company (Rocamora 21- 22). BRI: How did you and the Moscow Art Theatre (MAT) start working together? V. NEMIROVICH-DANCHENKO: I wanted to produce his play, The Seagull. Konstantin Sergeyevich and I had just recently formed this new modern theater together, the Moscow Art Theatre. Konstantin and I met for the first time in May of 1897 at the Slavyansky Bazaar in Moscow. Our meeting lasted for eighteen hours (Rocamora 16). BRI: Wow, that’s quite a long time. K. STANISLAVSKY: Yes, well, we had a lot to discuss. Vladimir Ivanovich and I wanted to break the old forms and conventions of traditional theater in Russia at the time. We spent those eighteen hours coming up with a plan for how our new theater could do that (Rocamora 16). “We rebelled against the old manner of acting, against theatricality, against a false pathos, declamation and artificially, against bad conventions of staging and décor…against the whole system of production, and the contemptible repertoire, in theaters at that time” (quoted in Allen 11). BRI: Within these new forms you wanted more truthful representations of life, rather than grand spectacles where the actors over-animate and the plot is unrealistic. Yes? 5 V. NEMIROVICH-DANCHENKO: Precisely. I wanted The Seagull to be part of the MAT’s inaugural season, but Anton Pavlovich Chekhov was extremely reluctant to grant us the rights after the play’s disastrous premiere at the Alexandrinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg (Senelick, 1997, 34). A. CHEKHOV: Oh God, it was awful. The audience did not understand it at all. The opening night performance got laughable reviews. The correspondent for The Fan in St. Petersburg said that it seemed like “an amateur recital taking place on a professional stage” (Senelick, 1997, 36). I was simultaneously furious and mortified. But looking back, I may have overreacted just a bit. (Laughs.) I wrote to my publisher, Aleksey Sergeyevich Suvorin, the next day and said, “Stop the publication of my plays. I shall never forget last evening…I shall not have the play produced in Moscow, ever. Never again shall I write plays or have them staged” (quoted in Rocamora 15). I can be a little dramatic sometimes. (Laughs again.) BRI: But the Moscow Art Theatre did end up producing The Seagull, correct? V. NEMIROVICH-DANCHENKO: I had to beg Anton Pavlovich, but yes, we did. In one of my letters to him I said, “perhaps the play will not provoke storms of applause but a genuine production with fresh qualities, liberated from routine, will be a triumph of art—I guarantee it” (quoted in Allen 11). Now, one must understand that the traditional theater of Russia at this time consisted of stylized performances and dramatized events. Chekhov wrote plays about everyday life and sorrow, in everyday language, and that’s what we wanted. 6 A. CHEKHOV: I remember during rehearsals for my play Uncle Vanya, the woman playing Sonya knelt when she said “Papa, one must be merciful,” and kissed Serebryakov’s hand. And I told her “You mustn’t do that, this really isn’t a drama. The whole meaning and the whole drama of a person is internal, and doesn’t exist in external phenomena. There was drama in Sonya’s life before this point, there will be drama after it, but this is a mere incident, an aftermath to the shooting. And even the shooting is not a drama but an incident” (quoted in Senelick, 1997, 54). V. NEMIROVICH-DANCHEKNO: The MAT’s production of The Seagull was a great success. We were able to capture the proper tone without turning it into a weepy melodrama. The MAT ended up getting the exclusive rights to Uncle Vanya soon after. But Three Sisters was the first play written specifically for us, for our company (Senelick, 1997, 58). BRI: Mrs. Knipper-Chekhova, I understand you played Masha in the premiere of Three Sisters. Could you tell us about your experience rehearsing and performing this play? O. KNIPPER-CHEKHOVA: Of course! It was two months before Anton Pavlovich would even let us read the play. (Laughs.) During these two months, Anton and I were in the middle of a tumultuous correspondence. This was about six months before we married. It was during this exchange of witty letters that we became enamored with each other. Our greetings would be “Dear Writer,”…“Dear Actress.” He was constantly teasing me, saying things like, “What a role there is for you in Three Sisters. Ah, what a role! If you give me ten rubles, I’ll let you have it, otherwise somebody else gets it” 7 (quoted in Senelick, 1997, 58). The rest of the company and I were hungry to read this new play and start working on it. K. STANISLAVSKY: Anton Pavlovich finally read it to us on the 29th of October, 1900. And it didn’t really go as he’d hoped… A. CHEKHOV: Not at all. K. STANISLAVSKY: As I recall “some called it a drama, others a tragedy, without noticing that these labels embarrassed Chekhov. [He] was convinced he had written a merry comedy, and in the reading everyone took the play to be a drama, wept as they listened” (quoted in Senelick, 1997, 59). A. CHEKHOV: Naturally, I made revisions. Copious revisions. BRI: I’ve been told, Mr. Stanislavsky, that you and Mr. Chekhov didn’t always really see eye to eye when it came to his plays. K. STANISLAVSKY: That’s true. We disagreed quite a bit on the staging of these plays—how a moment should be played, the behavior of a character, the stage directions. Quite a bit. A. CHEKHOV: We didn’t agree on a literary level either. I viewed my plays as comedies and he saw them as tragedies and continually tried to stage them as such. BRI: Could you explain to us the difference between comedy and tragedy? A. CHEKHOV: Yes, of course. Aristotle claimed that all drama is imitation, or mimesis. That is to say, both comedy and tragedy are mankind making imitations of reality, the 8 same way a painting of a dog is an imitation of a real dog. Aristotle then argues, however, that comedy and tragedy differ in terms of what they imitate. Comedy is “an imitation of persons who are inferior; not, however, going all the way to full villainy, but imitating the ugly, of which the ludicrous is one part. The ludicrous, that is, is a failing or a piece of ugliness which causes no pain or destruction; thus to go no farther, the comic mask is something ugly and distorted but painless” (Aristotle 23-24). Tragedy on the other hand, in his opinion, is an imitation “of people who are to be taken seriously” (Aristotle 24). This distinction illustrates how I think Three Sisters is a comedy. My plays are not “cry- babies” or tragedies. With Three Sisters “I simply wanted to say to people honestly: ‘Look at yourselves, look at how bad and boring your lives are!’ The important thing is, they will, without fail, create for themselves another and better life. I will not see it, but I know—it will be completely different, and nothing like this life. And until it arrives, I will say to people again and again; ‘Understand how bad and boring your lives are!’ What is there in this to cry about?” (quoted in Allen 23). These characters are ludicrous and living ugly lives and so were the people who watched this play. While watching, one is not meant to take them seriously, but rather see a “piece of ugliness” that reflects one’s own life. KNIPPER-CHKEHOVA: I wrote Anton Pavlovich about how our rehearsals for Three Sisters were going. At one point Konstantin Sergeyevich flat out recast my role of Masha and the role of Olga, who was being played by Margarita Savitskaya. Thankfully, Vladimir Ivanovich got them back for us (Senelick, 1997, 61). There came a day, however, where all of us in the acting company just stopped working, refused to act, and 9 sat there. We did not trust our director or each other really. We had not the slightest inclination as to what we were doing (Allen 27). K. STANISLAVSKY: We literally sat there in silence for God knows how long. But while we sat there, I heard a scratching sound that somehow “reminded me of home; I felt warm inside, I saw truth, life, and my intuition began to work” (quoted in Allen 27). This was a real turning point. I realized we had been going about this all wrong. One mustn’t “bathe in the characters’ sorrow” (quoted in Allen 27) or their suffering, but rather one should stress their courage, cheerfulness, and desire to live. BRI: So you’re saying this arbitrary scratching noise caused a sort of epiphany for you about how the characters should be portrayed? K. STANISLAVSKY: Yes, for whatever reason, this scratching noise changed my whole approach to this play. BRI: Mr. Chekhov, could you tell us more about how this play was different from the others you had written? A. CHEKHOV: Of course. Three Sisters was the first play I wrote for a pre-existing group, the company of the MAT. I was able to tailor the characters to fit the talents and skills of the actors I knew were going to play them. Vsevolod Emilevich Meyerhold was, like his character Tuzenbach, of German parentage and took Russian nationality a few years before the play (Pennington 13). O. KNIPPER-CHEKHOVA: My character Masha is fluent in Russian, German, English, and French just like me. 10 A. CHEKHOV: Yes, and my little Knipperschitz can also be found, as NYU Professor Dr. Carol Rocamora puts it, in Masha’s “mercurial moods, her rages, her depressions, her beauty, her intelligence, [and] her artistic temperament” (23). I find that spot on. (Laughs.) O. KNIPPER-CHEKHOVA: (Glares at A. CHEKHOV) You’re not funny, Anton Pavlovich. The song in the third act that Masha and Vershinin sing together also came from my life. One of my previous suitors use to sing it to me and I told Anton Pavlovich about it (Rocamora 23). God knows why he chose to include it. A. CHEKHOV: This was also the first play I wrote that lacked your typical main character, around whom all the action revolves. All of the characters are merely living their lives around and with each other, not in service of one or two foreground figures. Solyony and Anfisa are just as developed and influential as Masha and Tuzenbach (Senelick, 2006, 875). BRI: Why did you write the play this way? Without main characters? A. CHEKHOV: Like Vladimir Ivanovich and Konstantin Sergeyevich, I wanted to break the old forms of the theater. They aimed to achieve this through the reformation of acting and staging, while I was attacking the old conventions through my own medium—writing plays. As Treplyov proclaims in The Seagull, I too believed that “modern theater [was] trite, riddled with clichés,” and that “new forms are what we need[ed]” (quoted in Senelick, 2006, 747). No more prima ballerinas. No more dramatic soliloquys. The characters are hardly ever even on stage by themselves, and if they are, it’s only for a brief moment.