We're The People Our Parents Warned Us Against

ALL YOU NEED IS SUZUKI?

Adrian McGachie

An extended essay submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for a BA Hons in Performing Arts, University of Bedfordshire, April 2010

Abstract

The Suzuki Actor Training Method has been compared and contrasted to Vsevolod Meyerhold’s Biomechanics and Constantin Stanislavsky’s Method of Physical Actions in an attempt to rationalise whether Suzuki training alone can provide all of an actor’s training needs.

It has been established that Suzuki training accomplishes nearly all of the training requirements the modern actor may require, with some exceptions. Most notably, to train fully under Stanislavsky’s system requires of the actor to apply a thorough analysis of text, which he uses as the basis for formulating physical actions as an inroad to discovering a way of recalling specific emotions as they may be required by the informed reading of the play. Suzuki training does not make the same demand on an actor, yet it may be assumed that such a reading is necessary for preparing for performance. To some extent Meyerhold’s Biomechanics, while a standalone method of training in itself, will also be applied in conjunction to the same analysis. Suzuki training is a rigorous training method which enables the actor to produce a compelling performance, under the right directorship which acknowledges the limitations of the method. Where no provision is made for textual analysis and creative engagement within the training then it must be understood that this is an actor skill addressed elsewhere.

Therefore, the accomplished actor needs to seek to broaden the knowledge of his craft by combining training methods from more than one source. Is all you need Suzuki? The answer to that question is almost as enigmatic – it nearly is, but not quite.

Contents

Introduction.................................................................................Page 4

Chapter 1

Tadashi Suzuki: The Suzuki Actor Training Method.......................Page 10

Chapter 2

Constantin Stanislavsky: The Method of Physical Actions.............Page 21

Chapter 3

Vsevolod Meyerhold: Biomechanics............................................Page 24

Conclusion

All You Need is Suzuki? Conclusion..............................................Page 29

Bibliography................................................................................Page 33

Introduction

To read the prospectus of many of the National Drama Council for Training (NCDT) accredited vocational drama schools gives the view that training, in the field of performance and actor training, involves learning multiple disconnected disciplines which, when mastered, will present the student with a variety of skills that will provide them with a competitive advantage in which to enter the industry and secure work – no guarantees given, of course. Adele Bailey, executive director of the NCDT, in her article ‘Why Choose Drama School?’ reduces the practice and purpose of training to an economic outcome:

Acting and musical theatre students develop the discipline, practical skills and intellectual understanding necessary for building a lasting career, with accredited courses providing opportunities to be seen by agents, casting directors, theatres and television companies, so vital in securing that all important first job. Graduates of accredited courses also qualify for full Equity membership on completion of their course. (Bailey, 2009)

To peruse the prospectuses of the twenty-two of Britain’s accredited drama schools does little to provide a clear sense of direction beyond this view of a disarticulated body of training in which the student will learn from a breadth of subjects, typically comprising, in the case of the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art (LAMDA) :

· Acting and Improvisation

· Voice, including the Speaking of Poetry

· Movement, including Period Movement

· Singing, including Choral and Solo

· Textual Interpretation and Analysis

· Alexander Technique

· Physical Theatre (including Mask, Clown, Bouffon and Melodrama)

· Stage Combat

· Dance, including Tap, Jazz, Flamenco, Historic

Preparation for the Industry

Or at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, where a similar programme exists which encompasses:

· Acting,

· Voice Training

· Movement Training

The perception is that each discipline within a module can be treated as separate specialisation providing a variety of techniques, rather than perhaps a technique which the actor can employ within his work.

Why then, do we train? To level the playing field against one’s peers, all eagerly attempting to secure too few acting opportunities might be a noble enough pursuit for some, but can only be part of the story, sounding as it does a product of a society which favours results based on performance measurement (rather than pursuits towards self-actualisation), ultimately producing a return on investment. Barker (1977, pp. 12-13) considers the work of the actor in two parts, providing a convincing argument as to why he would need to train. The first part of the actor’s work is to understand the content of the work, both in terms of contextual understanding and in his approach to character. This is derived from a variety of sources contained within the work, from reading the text to considering historical and social modes in play. The second part of the actor’s work is then in how he synthesises all of this information and converts it to a physical intention in terms of his character, other actors and ultimately to the audience. The actor has to take what we take for granted in daily life – human responses to stimuli and the subsequent interaction arising from that - and reproduce on command the same, repeatedly and as if spontaneously. The activity of an actor, broadly speaking, requires him to convert mental process into physical activity, whilst maintaining awareness of the sensations created throughout. This is what training should provide – the ability to contextualise on one hand, and the means to convert that into an acting performance on the other.

Eugenio Barba draws attention to the way we carry out ordinary activities without needing to think, “The way we use our bodies in daily life is substantially different from the way we use them in performance” (1991, p. 9). Performance should not be a recreation (literally) of the daily life activity of the performer, which in itself produces a mundane rendition for the audience. Barba describes the purpose of the “daily” body technique as one carrying ‘communication’, in that daily behaviour is an amalgamation of subconscious physical processes which have been learnt – how we sit, talk and conduct ourselves in daily life. This behaviour reflects our culture and the role we have assumed within it. The ‘extra-daily’ body carries ‘information’ and describes our physical movements which are other than ‘daily”, which have to be mastered for performance, such as a ballet dancer or Noh performer would learn a new way of movement, or an actor to use his voice and within that lays the excitement of virtuosity which transforms not just the performer’s body, but the audience as well. (Ibid) In reaching this seemingly obvious conclusion, Barba is making a strong case for the need for training which will allow the performer to connect to the performative body, enabling the performer to deconstruct physical activity, separating pedestrian habitual movement from that which should be employed in performance.

Training, it could be argued, is concerned with transformations. Physical conditioning is part of it, where flexibility and body control provides the basis from which the actor produces performance energy. It is necessary to make the distinction between energy expenditure in daily and extra-daily contexts. It is argued that minimal energy is expended in daily life to produce maximum output, whereas the opposite is true of extra-daily energy, in which performer presence is located within the maximisation of energy to produce, often, minimal outputs. (Watson, 1993: 34). To skilfully control the physical rendering of the actor’s performance, Anne Dennis (1994, p. 18) agrees with Barba that movement should be based on economy:

An actor’s movement methodology must be based on a minimum of movement...and where clarity is achieved through a lack of all excess and the power of stillness.

Training facilitates the transformation of the actor into a transmitter of text. The Occidental view has been traditionally involved with training actors to receive, synthesise and then communicate the dramatic written text to an audience. Schechner (1991, p. 247) identifies the six primary functions of training as:

· Interpretation of a dramatic text or performance text.

· To train the performer to transmit a performance text

· Transmission of performance “secrets” (as in Noh)

· To help performers achieve self-expression.

· Mastery of a specific technique.

· To enable the formation of groups.

In identifying these aims, Schechner draws comparisons between the common principles found interculturally in performance and which have developed as a result of that society’s culture, at varying rates and degrees of absorption – some cultures having a more integrated understanding of the principles as a result of generations of continued inherent practice, whereas others have to learn, (or re-learn) those principles, something covered in great detail by Eugenio Barba in his Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology. Of ‘the actor as transmitter of the written text”, Schechner argues that this is primarily a Euro-American preoccupation in which the actor is not the guardian or author of the text. To look to other cultures, such as Indian, Asian, or Native American culture will reveal a tradition of the actor as a ‘transmitter of performance text’ which has been handed down from generation to generation in highly codified structures. In view of this revelation Schechner argues that the third principle, ‘The transmission of secrets’ is less culturally aligned to Euro-American practices as it is to Asian/Japanese culture, where codified performance tradition belongs to specific groups of people and where the “secrets” are preserved and highly regarded, and to be selected to learn, and train under these learned masters is highly prized. Training under such a regime typically follows a rote method of learning, mastery of the technique being offered by example, then practice, before advancing to the next level, as observed by Nicola Savarese: ‘Starting in early childhood, they often learn a performance score by imitating a master, and repeat it until they have mastered it perfectly’ (Barba & Savarese, 1991, p. 249).

Whilst the rationale for learning through physical repetition may be different within the Occidental tradition to that of the Orient, the idea of training the actor through the physical, rather than psychological medium has not been ignored. As will be discussed in later chapters, Constantin Stanislavsky, and in turn, Vsevolod Meyerhold, came to understand the importance of seating training within physical structures, and through the process of recording their training systems have passed on the ‘secret’ of knowledge, as have their intercultural counterparts.

Schechner continues to explain the fourth function of training to be something found inherently in Euro-American traditions. Self-expression is predominately the preserve of psychological attitude rather than behavioural based practice. Rooted in all performance is the notion that the actor must externally portray the internal processes which reside within him, which will include the portrayal of his emotional reaction to a given situation, as the piece requires. It stands to reason that training has to address the issue of reproducing ‘emotion’ on stage. How training responds, and has responded, to this need varies greatly but can reveal much about the modes of theatre being practiced in one culture to the next. For example, in post-war America, the rise in popularity of the Americanised Stanislavsky system suited the heightened form of realism being portrayed on stage and film. (Watson, 2001, p. 67). However, as theatre styles evolve and new writing challenges notions of realism on stage, training which has served that form well may no longer address the needs of the actor as he responds to new material.

Much of this discussion has described training practice between the Occident and the Orient, yet this generalisation imposes geographic boundaries, restricting our appreciation of the common performance principles which occur outside of these borders but can be observed internationally, regardless of location. Barba attempted to address that by preferring instead to refer to codified and non-codified performance traditions as ‘poles’. Performers coming from a strong codified structure (such as ballet) are described as ‘North Pole’, and non-codified (perhaps predictably to include European theatre traditions) as ‘South Pole’. Still fraught with the risk of marginalising each sector by categorising them, he argues that with this system each “pole” retains equal status (Turner, 2004, p. 48).

In subsequent chapters I will look at the work and training methods of Tadashi Suzuki, Constantin Stanislavsky and Vsevolod Meyerhold in order to try and determine if one or more of these methods addresses the needs of the modern actor and the challenges he faces today, according to the principles identified in this paper, as to what actor training should ideally seek to provide. Whilst that should be measurable, what any such study will of course fail to ascertain is the suitability of one system or method over another according to an individual’s needs and expectations.

Tadashi Suzuki: The Suzuki Actor Training Method

It would seem that a study of the life and theatre practice of Tadashi Suzuki constantly encounters oppositions and contrasts. Born in 1939, in Shimizu, in Japan, Suzuki recalls early memories of growing up at home as one in which traditional Japanese values clashed with emergent Western influences. Indeed, even the short space of time between his birth and the end of World War II saw the cessation of what was the traditional Imperial Japan to a defeated Japan, with the associated political influence of the United States of America that brought with it. After leaving high school to take a place at Waseda University in the Nishi-Waseda district of Shinjuku, Tokyo, to study economics and political science, he joined the Waseda Free Stage (WFS) theatre company which ran from the university. It was here that Suzuki began to formulate some of his ideas. Although the WFS had some highly ideological approaches to performing, including asking their actors to research the historic and contextual settings of plays to writing about their characters background, personality, age etc (Carruthers, 2007, p. 9) Suzuki became disillusioned with his own acting ability and that of his peers, finding their performances to be weak and concluded that the apparent lack of skill was indicative of the fact they had no training system in place (Ibid). The WFS were involved in presenting Occidental staples, from Chekhov to Arthur Miller, which found Suzuki trying his hand at directing, to Oriental classics. Eventually falling out with the WFS for differences of opinion, Suzuki resolved to set up his own company which he also called the Waseda Free Stage. Extremely poor, and mostly disowned by their parents, the company shared jobs and food alongside company duties and chores. Their fortunes changed when the owner of their favourite coffee shop offered them a space for a studio theatre above the shop on the condition that they met construction costs, which they did by undertaking part time jobs. The development of the studio space was a significant one for Suzuki, leading him to discover a keen interest in the idea of ensemble group working, which would be seminal to the development of his training method, which he had been developing from the 1970’s onwards. Suzuki eventually relocated his company from Tokyo to his purpose built theatre village in Toga in Toyama, Japan.

Suzuki recognises that rather than to make the distinction between traditional and non-traditional theatre, (and thus abandoning one for the other) there are techniques within Japanese Noh and Kabuki theatre traditions which deserve to be studied and utilised in modern theatre. In particular, Suzuki observes that, “The way in which the feet are used is the basis of a stage performance” (1986, p.6). Suzuki recognises that the position of the feet will profoundly affect the rest of the body, influencing everything, even the timbre of the actor’s voice. He sees this in ballet as well, remarking on how dependent this art form is on the position of the foot, dispelling the idea that his observations are only relevant to Japanese pre-modern art forms, which could be dismissed as irrelevant by ‘modern’ practitioners. Developing a set of exercises, to which the foot, and in particular the “stamp” of the foot, becomes integral, is Suzuki’s response to his belief that, “One reason the modern theatre is so tedious to watch...because it has no feet” (Ibid). He recognises that the foot plays a spiritual, as much as a practical role, too. The foot provides contact with the earth, and destiny determines that we come from the earth and shall return to the earth, which has primitive, shamanistic connotations. At this level contact between the ground and foot creates a link to the energy of earth, as any ritual involving rhythmic pummelling would. On a practical level, Suzuki’s exercises are designed to create physical awareness in an actor of far more than just the foot. Exercises involving stamping generate energy and disturbance in both the lower and upper half of the body, which an actor must learn to control through the pelvic ‘centre’ – the core strength required is combined with the need to control breath and maintain rhythm according to the nature of the exercise. The range of exercises designed to challenge the actor comprise of basic stances, stamps (or ‘stomps’), marches (including walks), sitting and standing statues. At the same time, a number of exercises will require vocal work as well, which consists of reciting passages, quite often while under or having just completed arduous physical activity. It should be stressed that although undertaken as a group (most usually) ‘progression’, both physical and cognitive, is unique to the individual. Australian theatre makers, Frank Theatre, who have adapted the Suzuki Actor Training Method (SATM) of training in their Frank Suzuki Performance Aesthetics (FSPA), and who rely on this to form the basis of their work, acknowledge that a purpose of the training is to provide the actor with a dialogue, one in which he questions internally the process he is undertaking, in order to discover the extents, and limitations, he is capable of. As John Nobbs describes:

For myself, the most essential feature of the SATM can be termed the ‘via ablativa in extremis’. By this I mean the employment of structural repetition in dynamic conjunction with reflective improvisation, achieved within the arena of the body in crisis. (2006, p. 149)

In other words, what Nobbs describes is the concept that an actor is capable of breaking away from habitual behaviour which inhibits him, through the repetition of exercises which, whilst exhausting, causes him to reveal a purer, truer self, “drawing his body and voice into a new experience” (Ibid). It would be appropriate to describe the range of exercises which are practised during training, and in doing so to discuss the variations introduced by Frank Theatre, which it could be argued have been streamlined to appeal to a westernised practitioner. In some respects the exercises have been made more accessible to the curious novice who might encounter Suzuki training as part of a suite of training methods, rather than one as an adopted technique. It is common for an Occidental performer to question the expected outcomes to arise from any practice, which is not so true of the Oriental performer coming from a tradition of mimicking the trainer. The onus is on the performer to become aware of the internal dialogue taking place. If the core becomes unstable, for instance, and balance is affected, the automatic reaction to place a foot down to regain composure is discouraged. Physical awareness and the ability to correct the mistake will become more apparent by trying to stabilise the body through continuing the exercise as intended, even if that means wobbling. Any such action should also be accepted graciously and without revealing any personal annoyance to the audience. Training is treated as if it is a performance, even where the audience may be solely comprised of the group participating in the activity. Part of the discipline of the performance is to remain focused and to engage fully with the exercises, and mistakes which are not revealed will defer attention from them, whilst providing a valuable learning experience for the student which can be taken into the public arena. (For the purposes of describing training movements the terms ‘trainer’ and ‘trainee’ will now be employed. It is not intended to confer status to either participating party, as the process of learning and discovery is a bilateral one).

Before embarking on any exercise, trainees adopt the basic stance, which is the starting position. Standing upright, yet relaxed, with legs and feet together, and the focus at a fixed point in the distance, presenting the face towards the audience, the trainee relaxes the knees, dropping slightly towards the floor, pushing down through the legs yet extending upwards through the body. Arms are held to the sides, with hands gently turned as if holding two sticks parallel to the floor. Breathing should be controlled and steady, extending into the abdomen. The feet are pushed into the floor with equal weight distribution throughout. The feet may be adjusted slightly for some exercises.

From this position, with feet turned out at forty five degrees, the trainee can perform Basic Number One. The trainer will either call instructions, using numbers in the first instance, or by banging a stick on the ground. On the call of “One!” the right leg is lifted and thrown to the right, stamping down. This movement should be fluid, resulting in the centre of balance being over the right foot. This can be tested by lifting the left foot and observing if a shift in balance is required to achieve this. The trainer calls “Two!” and the left foot slides back towards the right, joining it at the heel. On “Three!” the trainee squats to a plié, to a count ranging from one to ten, as determined by the trainer. At the base of the plié the trainee will be positioned on their toes, effectively sitting on their heels. To the count of “Four”, the trainee pushes through the toes and legs to a rising position, allowing the feet to fall back to the floor as soon as practical to do so. The finishing position should now be as started, ready to repeat the exercise to the left. In addition to the movement the trainer may call for vocals to be included. This will be the recital of a short speech learnt by the group. Favourite speeches encountered vary from speeches by Shakespeare to an extract from Euripides’ The Trojan Women:

O splendour of sunburst breaking forth this day

Whereon I lay my hands once more on Helen my wife.

And yet it is not so much as men think

For the woman's sake I came to Troy,

But against that guest, proved treacherous,

Who, like a robber, carried the woman from my house.

In theory, any short speech could be used. The trainer will request various vocal pitches, ranging from a whisper to full voice. It is the responsibility of the trainee to work out how much breath is required under stress. It is not a problem to run out of breath – that is part of the learning process. In much of Suzuki training, the exhausted state provides some of the most profound experiences.

Basic Number Two assumes the basic stance, with heels and toes placed together. Instructions are given as before:

“One!” – Right leg is lifted perpendicular to the floor, with the sole of the foot being presented to the audience at speed and the knee as high as can comfortably be maintained. Foot remains flexed upwards. This position can be held for any length of time, determined by the trainer.

“Two!” Right foot stamps down, just slightly in front of the starting position. Gradually, progression is made forwards in this manner, repeating with the left foot. This exercise is then developed to incorporate further movements which challenge the position of the centre of gravity, as follows:

“One!” and “Two!” are as above. “Three!” Right leg slides forwards until the centre of gravity is over the knee and the left leg is straight. Balance can again be checked by lifting the left leg and making adjustments as necessary until the action becomes intuitive. “Four!” – The trainee rises onto toes. The centre of gravity should be equally distributed between the two legs. On the command of “Five!” the heels return to the floor and the exercise is repeated with the left leg leading. The trainee will cover more floor space in this variation of the exercise, so this needs to be taken into account when choosing a place in the room to begin from. Trainers will introduce additional challenges to this exercise. For example, the timing between commands “One!” and “Two!” can vary and they could call on a speech at any point throughout. Also, this exercise can be performed with the trainee holding a stick in front of them. This presents a way in which rise and fall can be checked to maintain an even height throughout, but also presents the trainee with a tool which can add another dimension to their performance. The stick should be held firmly, but not stiffly and in a ‘live’ manner, maintaining extra-daily energy. John Nobbs describes the relationship which he encourages trainees to have with the stick as one which invokes an opposite:

I might say to an actor: “Hold a stick”, I will then say, “Let me take the entire weight of the stick, you, think of holding on to the stick”, then I will say, “Now, think of both, do both simultaneously.” This principle can then be extended so that the actor can envisage the stick holding them. (2006, p. 154)

In this invocation Nobbs believes that the actor who takes this principle forward produces a more compelling performance for both himself and the observer, by bringing aliveness to a dead action – perform the action, invoke the opposite – energise the action.

For Basic Number Three feet are again turned out at forty five degrees with the basic position assumed. With “One!” called, the right leg is lifted on the diagonal, with the foot turned into towards the leg. On “Two!” the foot is stamped to the floor, slightly in front of the other. The exercise is repeated, alternating the leading leg each time.

Finally, Basic Number Four. The trainee can be instructed to begin the exercise in one of two starting positions. The first is facing the front in the basic position. On the command, he or she will pivot on the right foot around, simultaneously dropping to a squat. (Alternatively, the trainee can start from the squatting position, rising to the standing position). On the second command the trainee returns to the starting position. Here the trainee must attempt to move the centre smoothly through the space in an arc, rather than just concentrating on the rise and fall which the speed of the exercise will influence. Also, in the squatting position the trainee is instructed to be relaxed, yet aware enough to await the next command without anticipating it and thus moving before it comes. In this relaxed state the back of the trainee, which faces the audience, should maintain extra daily energy. The exercise is repeated to the left.

Of all the exercises which appear in the repertoire, the one which many use to define the training, particularly if coming from a relatively uninformed background, is the three minute stomp. For Suzuki, the exercise should develop a superior understanding of the body in trainees, in which they have to regulate themselves in order to control the rise of energy throughout their bodies as they strike the ground, containing it within their pelvic regions. Breath control is equally important, which if unattended will cause the upper body to tremble and the trainee to lose rhythm. As well as the physical attributes of the exercise Suzuki emphasises the affirming nature stamping on the ground will have, “Forcing the development of a special consciousness based on this striking of the ground. This concept arises from my conviction that an actor’s basic sense of his physicality comes from his feet” (1986, p. 9). In the Stomp, all trainees find a starting position in the space and assume the basic position. To a piece of rhythmic music they begin the stamping motion, which entails them lifting their legs at the knee to as close to hip height as possible, with the foot running parallel to the opposite leg (rather than trailing behind or pushing ahead of the leg) and then stamping vigorously down. Alternating legs, they will make incremental movements around the space, in which they are free to make their own way around. In the FSPA version of this exercise sticks are often used, sometimes held by two hands in front, at other times being held by one hand with the end of the stick lightly contacting the floor, trailing either in front or behind. This is done to increase the trainee’s awareness of the relationship between him and the ground. The culmination of the three minutes stomping is with the group making their way towards the back of the space when, on the conclusion of the first half of the music’s they fall to the ground and remain still, yet highly focused, with a store of energy residing in their inner core. Then the music changes to a wistful Zen flute, to which the group rise in their own time and make their way downstage, walking in a similar fashion as in the exercise ‘Slow Ten Tekka Ten’. Their intention is to each individually engage the audience, whilst remaining completely in the moment, in which they move with time suspended, yet passing, in the space. As they approach the front of the stage they will gather and wait, still holding the gaze of the audience. Some trainers may ask for a vocal exercise to be completed at the end, usually in quiet voice so as not to break the spellbinding atmosphere that has been created.

The Slow Ten walk is conducted as an exercise in its own right. It requires the trainee to be aware of the size of the space, in order that they might cross it in close formation at the same time, whilst listening to the rhythms in the music and making directional changes in time to it. The group will usually be split into two, each taking one side of the space, leaving gaps in between themselves to pass each other in the middle. From a neutral position they have the first twelve beats of the music to prepare themselves in, to assume the basic stance, ready to move off together. Sometimes they will be instructed to hold their arms in a position of their choosing, whereas in the FSPA variant Nobbs and Carroll make extensive use of a range of props to complement the exercise. This can be anything from sticks, soft toys, chairs and mirrors. Whatever the variation the objective is still to prepare for walking in the opening beats of the music, with the added challenge of picking up the soft toy and holding it in a forward facing perspective, or at other times facing the trainee – both metaphoric states suggesting the relationship between being viewed and being the viewer. Using handheld mirrors the trainees are given the opportunity to view themselves from a variety of viewpoints. This can commence with a Slow Ten walk in which the trainee stares directly into the mirror. During this intimate journey Nobbs will encourage the individual to fully appreciate the face for its uniqueness, whilst reminding them that this is the view the audience has. In other exercises they will view themselves from multiple angles when instructed to change their view – the hand holding the mirror subtly repositioning and the eyes, not the head, registering the change. These are images which Nobbs says are now personal experiences, created within the space and which serve to empower the individual and strip away ego.

A fundamental principle underlying all of these exercises is not just in the physical rendering of them, but more importantly that every exercise is punctuated by stillness. Often just momentarily, at other times purposely sustained, the stillness is to Suzuki more than just moments of passivity, but crucially that they are the moments in which stage presence and full extra daily energy have accumulated to their fullest potential. For Suzuki, an actor should be like a Boeing 747 on the runway, with engines revving but the brakes are applied (Carruthers, 2007, p. 80). In the Basic Stances the stillness can exist at any point between each physical change, during the stomp each stamp is accentuated by a fleeting stillness and for the walks, to be described next, each step objectifies the principle – step – still – step – still and so on. The walks are practiced in lines, one trainee following the next, diagonally across the stage. As well as the spatial awareness each trainee must maintain they should be aware that they are moving their centres through space, which encounters resistance, as if a rope passes directly through them. The rope, although pulling forwards also pulls back. The walks can be summarised as follows:

1. Basic Stomp

2. Triangular step, making toes meet.

3. Walking on the outside of the feet.

4. Flicking the feet to the outside with the “attack” coming from the hip.

5. Walking on toes.

6. Stomping sideways.

7. Stomping sideways, crossing feet.

8. Sideways in plié step.

9. Fast shuffle walk.

10. Toe shuffle in crouched position arms stretched out as if presenting a gift.

(Watson, 2001, p. 180)

During FSPA training the walks may be practiced as duets, with both partners holding an end of the stick, increasing the need for each individual to create an empathy with each other. Increased challenges are introduced with one partner closing their eyes, or one performing the routine backwards whilst the other travels forwards.

The last of the most common exercises encountered in a training session to be described are the statues. These can be sitting and standing. In sitting statues the trainees adopts a neutral foetal position, with knees held against the chest and head bowed down. Sitting statues are a development of Three Sitting Positions, which Carruthers describes as:

On “One!” the body is tilted back to balance on the coccyx with feet raised off the ground... (Body returns to neutral on a given signal) On “Two!” the legs shoot forward together while the torso tilts backwards to a point of balance... (Return to neutral) On “Three!” legs shoot out again at an angle of forty five degrees, while the torso again tilts back to find a counteracting point of balance (2007, p. 88)

In statues the trainee assumes any position from this seated position. As well as requiring core strength to become developed the challenge is to remain relaxed in the upper body in order to deliver a speech when requested. Each position should be created freely and without repetition during changes. In standing statues similar principles are applied in which the trainee goes from a low crouch, with feet spread apart, high up onto toes, freezing the arms, head and torso in a statue, in complete stillness. Returning to the neutral crouched position the exercise is repeated for many minutes. The trainees may be requested to recite speeches when in statue.

Although predominantly “cut from the same cloth”, the examples described here between the FSPA and SATM methods of practice shows how the style has been adapted by Nobbs and Carroll to serve their training objectives. Nobbs states that whatever they do in training is designed ultimately to unlock an actor’s creative potential. In terms of physicality and vocalisation, the exercises are designed to combine the two elements – vocal work is considered to be a physical action in its own right, not a separate entity. Where perhaps the weakness of the training method might be regarded to exist is in how much it engages with the trainee to explore their imaginative and creative sides. Improvisational freedom is alluded to in some aspects of the exercises, for example Nobbs has introduced other vocal ranges to the basic four normally used, which are:

1. Full voice – the body using its entire energy resources to speaking as powerfully as it can.

2. Quiet voice- a standard stage voice.

3. Super quiet voice- the quietest one can speak with the vocal chords resonating.

4. Whisper – The loudest one can speak with no vocal chord resonance.

To now include the addition of:

1. Freeform - any level, own choice.

2. Change - switch to another free choice level.

3. Crazy - any of the weirdest possibilities one can invoke.

4. Different- the most interesting and most congruent with Butoh.

(Nobbs, 2008)

The emphasis is not on the trainee mastering a particular vocal form over another. When asked to “switch” from one range to another it should be done instinctively. Once switched, the voice should be accepted in whatever style the trainee lands on, even if that produces physical challenges for the individual for the duration of the exercise. Nobbs is striving here to change the trainee’s perception to the concept inherent within this exercise between the terms “change” and “different”. It was only during a training session that the objective of the exercise became apparent to Nobbs and began to yield results. Change suggests a shift between styles of delivery. Different, Nobbs argues, shouldn’t denote any alteration in vocal delivery but to the attitude behind the action. In totally inhabiting the notional difference the transformation becomes apparent to the observer as much as it becomes an experiential learning tool for the trainee.

Fundamentally, the training is designed to enhance the physical presence of an actor on stage. For both Suzuki and Nobbs, while a performance might be informed by the text of a play on a dramaturgical level in which sub-text, psychology and emotion are one element of the theatrical experience, it comes into its own when the event is bound together in what Nobbs calls, “the expression of human visceral energy”, and Suzuki simply, “animal energy” (Ibid). In this respect the training excels. It should be noted, however, that the training does not begin and end in a finite manner, after which one is regarded as being proficient in this method. The process of learning the Grammar of the Feet is a continuous journey.

Constantin Stanislavsky: The Method of Physical Actions

The one name that is synonymous with Western actor training is undoubtedly that of Russian born Constantin Stanislavsky (1863-1938). Born to a wealthy manufacturing family his life spanned a turbulent period in Russia’s history, including the 1917 Revolution, which saw the transition from the late nineteenth century in which all the major arts - theatre, ballet, opera and literature were celebrated, to the more suspicious post-revolution age under the Soviet authorities. Amongst the benefits of his privileged background was the use of a theatre his father had built in 1877 on the family estate where Stanislavsky would act and direct, with the security of the family wealth behind him which also allowed him to found the Society of Art and Literature in 1888 (Carnicke, 2000, p. 11). In 1897 he turned professional, handpicked by Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko to co-direct at the newly founded Moscow Art Theatre which was going to change the face of Russian theatre. In 1912 he started the First Studio where he began to develop his System for Actor Training – a task he pursued until his death in 1938.

During this period towards the turn of the century other revolutions were taking place which helped shape Stanislavsky’s career – Modernism and Realism were the avant-garde, and the new science of psychology was emerging. Stanislavsky was introduced to a vocabulary which became the foundation stones of his exploration and pursuit to define an acting method into one definitive system, dealing as he did with the study of human behaviour at a subconscious level, believing that to grasp a firm understanding of the internal processes which affected, amongst other things, human emotion, would provide a tool which an actor could rely on to recreate the same for the stage in a highly realistic manner, in what is termed “Psycho-physicality”, so that the internal experience can be translated into an outward expression (Merlin, 2007, p. 18). To Stanislavsky, “All external production is formal, cold, and pointless if it is not motivated from within” (Stanislavsky, 1936, p. 164). It was with his work with emotion memory that Stanislavsky is perhaps most renowned for. Also known as Affective Memory, (after the influential work conducted by French Psychologist, Theodule Ribot) Stanislavsky believed that deep rooted emotional experience lies within all of us inherently, and has naturally informed our development as people, as well as providing the building blocks which informs our behaviour in any given situation. He made the distinction between sensory memory and emotional memory, remarking that they often run parallel to each other (Stanislavsky, 1936, p. 168) but that in art the senses provide a role that is merely auxiliary and for the “purpose of influencing our emotional memory” (Ibid, p.170). The means by which the actor would recall his emotion memory is affected by a number of different factors. Externally, a stage set, costume and props can all assist the actor to find the stimulus necessary to perform the scene as will the internal recall of an experience which will support the actor. The script provides a multitude of sources from which stimulus can be garnered and that through practice an actor can create a repertoire of memories from which to draw upon, and at the same time he will be constantly adding to. Ultimately, the greatest resource the actor possesses is their ability to internally recall from their memory, using “Conscious means to reach the subconscious” (Ibid, p. 176). The actor should always work within the range of their actual experience to create the role. That is not to say that their lives have to mirror the characters life – only the emotion most closely related to the scene is necessary. The rehearsal process is a time when the vast palette of emotions can be explored and the actor can imbue a sense of playfulness to his work.

Until relatively late in his career Stanislavsky promoted, through his system, the idea that in order for the actor to produce a compelling performance he should draw upon memories to evoke the emotion at a given point in the scene, night after night. The same memory might not be sufficient for every performance; therefore the actor needs to find inspiration from a variety of sources. He provided a toolkit of ideas which the actor required to fulfil his role, incorporating concepts which went far beyond that just of emotional recall. The actor requires a good imagination and the ability to concentrate. He can study the text of the play to inform his role, asking crucial questions throughout concerning his characters motivation. He can learn mastery over his body, enabling him to reduce any physical tensions which will impede his rendition of the role. Stanislavsky never believed his system, or any aspect of it should be treated as the gospel truth – the inquiring mind should test them in rehearsal, drawing upon only the tools required – if required. If inspiration comes from other sources, then the message is to allow them to. Bella Merlin, in the Complete Stanislavsky Toolkit, quotes one of Stanislavsky’s actresses, Solovyova, observing that:

We use ‘emotional recall’ or ‘affective memory’ when our inspiration [fails], or in Stanislavsky’s expression, when “Apollo does not answer readily”. But if your intuition gives you what you need, you don’t have to use affective memory. (2007, p. 149)

It was in later life from 1934 – 1938 that Stanislavsky began experimenting with what appears to be a simple reversal of the earlier principles that informed his system. It is obvious that emotions affect actions. However, emotional recall can be exhausting and unreliable. Stanislavsky addressed this problem by considering that if the countenance of the actor who is channelling a required emotion is responsive to that moment, then can the emotion be affected by his countenance? This simple premise was what developed into Stanislavsky’s Method of Physical Actions. By examining the play the actor can identify points throughout when the action shifts within the scene. This is what Stanislavsky termed the bits. The whole play can be scored completely in this way (known as the Scoring of Actions). Within each bit the actor must identify the objective behind the action and all the actions necessary to perform it. When a bit is complete, the actors test the score by performing all the actions as a silent étude. Each action must be performed with fervent intent and conviction, with the idea being that the external action will enable the actor to experience the psychological connection to the emotions required within the scene. The actor will continue in this way for many rehearsals, avoiding using the playwright’s words for some time. He will check where he is in terms of the psychological progress of the scene against the script before playing it again. Stanislavsky did not want the play to block the actor’s progress throughout this process, preferring them to improvise text to begin with, exploring the rhythm and tempo of the scene as they practice. By the time they came to use it the only missing element that the scene requires should be the text.

Vsevolod Meyerhold: Biomechanics

Meyerhold was born in 1874 in Penza, Russia, to a wealthy family of German-Russian vodka distillers. The last of eight children, he formed a close relationship with his mother, who encouraged him to learn piano as part of his education. Meyerhold encountered actors and musicians who came to his hometown on tour, where his passion for theatre was ignited. Meyerhold harboured ambitions to be an actor which was initially delayed when he was offered two possible career progressions, to either study law or the violin. He opted to read law at Moscow University where he graduated in 1895. Upon graduation he considered his options, which were to join the University orchestra or undertake theatre training. He failed the orchestra audition and embarked on two years theatre training at the Moscow Philharmonic School under Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko. Meyerhold was a gifted student, described by Danchenko as exceptional (Sullivan, 1990, p. 52) and upon graduation in 1899 he was invited to join the Moscow Art Theatre (MAT), under Danchenko and Constantin Stanislavsky (Ibid). Undoubtedly coming into contact with Stanislavsky had an influence on Meyerhold, although they had their differences. Meyerhold was active at MAT, as both an actor and occasionally as assistant director, and both he and Stanislavsky agreed passionately that a comprehensive training system was required for actors, yet their relationship was fraught with difficulties surrounding their opposing artistic views, which also brought him into conflict with Danchenko. Meyerhold wanted to create theatrical events using Symbolism, rather than Naturalism and in 1902 he left the MAT to form his own company, the Comrades of the New Drama, where he continued his work as a director. Here he took on an impressive programme of work, staging three productions a week, which hindered any attempts he made to train his actors in a stylised technique. He accepted an invitation to return to work with Stanislavsky at his Theatre Studio in 1905 (Pitches, 2003, p. 10). This afforded him the opportunity to experiment with a highly gestural, symbolist style, which would remain a constant theme throughout his work and training method. Although Stanislavsky was initially impressed with his work, it eventually brought Meyerhold into conflict with him again and he left MAT to go to St. Petersburg, where he would work from 1906 – 1917. His research and experimentation of the actor’s physicality continued. He experimented with an investigation of commedia dell’arte and with the sense of playfulness the form introduced, as well as with traditional European and Eastern traditions. In all, he amassed a large body of work with which he began to form a series of exercises which were the basis for his études. His musical background played a role too, as much of his work played with rhythm and tempo. Some of his études were performed as mini-pantomimes, but the basic principle of these exercises, to be later called “Biomechanics” was to use them to develop the actor.

Biomechanics, according to Robert Leach (2000, p. 43), trains the actor in the following ways:

1. Balance (Physical control).

2. Rhythmic awareness, both spatial and temporal.

3. Responsiveness to the partner, to the audience, to other external stimuli, especially through the ability to observe, to listen and to react.

The most rudimentary element of Meyerholds exercises, before the actor moves onto the études, is to train with sticks. Jonathan Pitches (2008) describes the stick as the “prop of all props” bringing together as it does a number of Meyerholds key influences: “Sport (the javelin, foil), circus (the baton, juggling club), commedia (slapstick), silent comedy (Chaplin’s cane)...it is an object which carries all the associations of these disciplines but none of the baggage” (Ibid). As well as providing the actor an opportunity to train with a prop, it provides him with a tool which should be treated as an extension of the body, connected by the hand to his physical core. The basic exercise is performed as a group, enhancing the collaborative nature of the ensemble. To begin with they will explore balancing the stick (about the size and dimension of a broom handle) on the palms of their hands, using the space around them to make minor adjustments with their feet to keep the stick in balance. This also increases their sense of spatial awareness as they negotiate the space with the rest of the group. From this they will practice balancing the stick on different parts of their bodies. Theoretically, as each new demand increases in difficulty, the earlier exercises should become simpler to perform as the body retains a memory of the action and this body knowledge is developed with each progression. As this is mastered the group will experiment with throwing the stick, at first quite simply from one hand to the other, then with a half twist introduced. The students focus on the changes which affects the weight and balance of the stick, while assuming a collective responsibility to become proficient with the exercise. If a stick is dropped the exercise is suspended until it (the stick) is collected, for the group to then resume again. The natural progression is to practice throwing the stick to each other in pairs. Here, as with all the exercises, the student develops a rhythmic awareness, an important characteristic of the études. Throughout all of Meyerhold’s training runs a common rhythmic principle, an acting cycle in three parts: Otkaz, (the intention), Posil (the action) and Tochka, (the reaction, or subsequent intention) (Sullivan, 1990, p. 62). From the twenty études devised by Meyerhold in the 1920’s, five are considered by contemporary practitioner, Alexei Levinsky, fundamental to actor training today. They are:

1. Throwing the stone.

2. Shooting the bow.

3. Slap in the face.

4. Stab with the dagger.

5. Leap on the chest. (Pitches, 2003, p. 127)

These are movement scores which tell a simple story. Each movement comprises of four parts:

“Otkas (literally, refusal), posyl (literally, the sending), stoika (or stance), and tormos (the brake). The otkas is the movement in preparation of the action itself and is manifested in a movement in the opposite direction, like a spring. The posyl is the actual execution of the intended action, set up by the otkas. And the stoika is both the completion of the movement (coming to a halt) as well as the starting block for the next movement in an étude. Tormos is the “brake” or “resistance.” (Unknown, 2008)

The tormos performs a similar function to the pause found punctuating movement in Suzuki training. It denotes the start and the end of the phrase, denoted by a brief moment of stillness in which the actor’s energy is held in convergence, literally with the brakes on. Although appearing still, this is not an immobile action. Each étude begins and ends with the Dactyl, an exercise designed to prepare the student physically and mentally. Gordon, in Meyerhold’s Biomechanics, describes the Dactyl as follows:

(A) The actor, beginning with a complete relaxation of all muscles,

(B) suddenly claps his hands twice in a short upward motion which

(D) Then, bending his knees,

(E) he immediately claps his hands twice in a violent and downward motion,

(F) throwing his arms back as they separate after the last clap.

(G) This abrupt movement is transferred to the actor’s entire body in a forward and downward motion as the momentum of energy is conveyed to his calves and feet. The actor is now prepared to perform the étude. (1995, p. 112)

Perhaps one of the best known sequences which will give an impression of a biomechanical étude is Shooting from the Bow. It should be remembered that these exercises were not intended to be recreated on the stage, but were designed to provide the actor with a repertoire of material with which he would be equipped to perform with increased flexibility, spatial awareness and expressiveness. Leach (2000, pp. 49-50) describes the exercises:

Stance: as Dactyl.

1. Slow swivel to left on right toe and left heel, arms by sides.

2. Bend and straighten knees, rapidly flick left hand to left shoulder, completely bending left arm, then extend the arm downwards and point with the finger (at imaginary bow on ground).

Pause.

3. Slowly bend knees, keep torso vertical, arms by sides.

4. Left hand moves rapidly to the floor (to pick up imaginary bow), takes the weight of the torso which is now parallel to the ground; right arm extended vertically, legs bent, weight on left leg.

Pause.

5. Return to position 3.

6. Slowly stand, weight on both feet, arms by sides, spine straight.

7. Slowly bend left arm so hand touches left shoulder, then extend left arm, hand vertically upwards, weight on right foot.

Pause.

8. Right arm makes a big arc parallel with the ground to draw imaginary arrow from belt at left hip, left arm bends to shoulder, weight is transferred to left foot, torso swivels left.

9. Right arm is raised to vertical above head, left arm extended, hand upwards, torso leans left, head half down, weight on left foot, right foot on toes, right leg bent, left leg straight.

10. Right arm rapidly bends, touches right hip, and extends vertically upwards again, torso bends left to be parallel with ground, left arm remains thrust out.

Pause.

11. Rapidly shift weight to the right foot as right arm arcs back to the horizontal, torso is brought back to the vertical, head up, left arm still thrust out.

Pause.

12. Slowly, left arm is bent, hand nearly to shoulder, as right arm is brought in big arc over head to beside left arm, weight shifted to left foot.

13. Right arm ‘draws bow’, left arm extends horizontally, weight on left foot still.

14. Return to position 12.

15. Rapidly swivel torso to right and down, weight on right foot, both arms vertically down (as if ‘firing’ bow at right foot), torso bent over to right, head down.

Pause.

16. Rapidly swivel the torso to left and up, both arms raised, head up, weight on left foot, back arched.

Pause.

17. Bend knees, then rapidly straighten them and leap, left foot then right, pulling right arm down rapidly to vertical, whilst stretching neck and spine upwards; at end, weight equal, both feet firm on ground after leap.

18. Slowly bring left arm to side, face front, as at start of exercise. Stand.

This demonstrates the degree of precision demanded of the actor engaged in the exercises. The expressive nature reveals the commedia influence, approaching the grotesque, which Meyerhold pursued avidly. It also introduces the concept of efficiency in movement, modelled on the work of the American engineer, Frederick Winslow Taylor (1856-1915) who sought to improve efficiency in industrial processes in the newly emerging production lines of the early twentieth century. This curried favour with the Soviet authorities who grew rapidly suspicious of psychological practices after the revolution. However, in spite of Lenin’s support of Taylorism, Meyerhold, and many experimental practitioners like him could do little to appease Stalin’s contempt and paranoia that such practice was undermining Soviet authority (Sullivan, 1990, p. 58). The theatre was regarded as a dangerous breeding ground for anti-Soviet propaganda and highly influential as a means to communicate to the still largely illiterate population. Towards the end of his life he collaborated with Stanislavsky on his last directorial project. Stanislavsky felt at risk, never returning to the MAT between 1934 – 1938, when he died (Sacharow, 2004) and Meyerhold was arrested a few months after. He was executed under Stalin’s orders in 1940. His work would have been lost, had not former students preserved it in secret. Although he was cleared of all charges in 1955 when Nikita Khrushchev launched his denouncement campaign of Stalin, his work was still shared covertly, until it was only considered truly safe to practice openly under Mikhail Gorbachev’s policy of glasnost in the 1980’s.

All You Need is Suzuki? Conclusion.

From the research conducted in this paper it is clear that the field of actor training has, and will continue to be, a pursuit which many practitioners and teachers will continue to debate and endlessly engage in, as they explore the wealth of material and research that has been conducted before them, seeking innovative ways to develop their art through practice, while remaining true to the original founders ideals of the many available methodologies which combine to offer a form of theatrical training today.

It should be noted that there are naturally many limitations to what an academic research paper (of what are inherently physical methods of training) can achieve, without experiencing directly through practice, and under expert guidance, the training first hand. This is one recommendation (to experience training methods through practice) for further research. There exists a vast legacy of written material generated by the founders of these methods, or in some cases by students who have received the training from the innovators themselves, which offers a fascinating insight into their theoretical and ideological perspectives which have spanned a lifetime of research. It is interesting to observe the refinements which they have implemented to their own practices over an extended period of time, and this should be indicative of the approach we should all take to training – no training or training method is finite. Actor development should be an ongoing process and an inquisitive one. It would appear that many actors who have received formal two to three year training regard themselves as “trained actors”. It is an exciting prospect to consider instead the career of an actor to be one that is constantly in training. New lines of enquiry should be continually sought and the training methods not only tested, but challenged also. Training methods which are well founded today have been reactions to socio-political trends in the past. Stanislavsky grew dissatisfied with the theatre of his day, noting at times those actors who occasionally displayed flashes of brilliance yet at others produced only mediocre performances. Recognising the importance of bringing a psychological element to performance (even before psychology was fully developed as a science) enabled him to begin pioneering his Grammar of Acting, leading to his “system” and a method of Naturalistic acting which for sometime accented the Soviet states view that Socialist Realism should be the prevalent art form. Meyerhold similarly was a product of his time. As well as following his own personal pursuit to incorporate striking gestural symbolism in his work he was reacting to Bolshevik political pressure which promoted efficiency and collectivism through manual efforts rather than free thought. Actively embracing this ideology, his experimental and avant-garde approach enabled him to develop Biomechanics, a system which seemed to thrive under Lenin, but resulted in his execution under Stalin. Fortunately, Suzuki has not had to operate under such strict political regimes, but his practice had developed out of a growing dissatisfaction with the state of Japanese theatre, acknowledging that whilst traditional Japanese art forms came from a strong tradition of codified training, actor training did not.

All three have arrived at a form of training which favours the physical development of the actor as a method which will assist him in encapsulating a total performance, rather than one which expends and wastes energy needlessly on stage and produces just a talking head and inexpressive body. Stanislavsky is not so prescriptive in how this is achieved through physical action as are Meyerhold and Suzuki, who have devised fundamental exercises which form the core of their training. Meyerhold and Stanislavsky both agree that their systems form a pathway for the actor to discover the emotional truth required in a play, through applying the correct physical action at a given point. This requires a deep analysis of the play to determine the objectives and motivations the character has. Physical memory influences the emotional state of being and according to their principles is a reliable method which can be drawn upon to produce consistent performances. Perhaps this is one element which is not so evident within the Suzuki Actor Training Method? The training produces within the actor a strong connection to his physical core (remarkably similar to Meyerhold’s method) and enables him to remain grounded and in control of his body, yet little is said of his emotional and imaginative connection to a particular piece or how that should be developed. This has been addressed to a certain extent in the Frank Suzuki Performance Aesthetics training programme where trainees are encouraged within the practice of certain exercises to connect imaginatively with the body and voice, creating states within the moment which can be carried forward as emotional memories, or with the use of the mirror in some exercises, which provides not only a real time view of the position of the physical body in time and space, but one that should be retained in all senses as a psychological expression when the mirror is taken away. Trainees are encouraged to hold onto the memory, which is described as now forming part of their psychological make-up as an event that resides within them forever. The effectiveness of such an exercise relies on the trainee’s ability to respond to such seemingly experimental suggestions and again, practically experiencing the exercise outweighs the limits imposed solely by theoretical description.

The original question remains whether Suzuki training is really all you need? It could be argued from the research conducted that each of the programmes discussed have similarities between them which produce identical outcomes and yet also there are vast differences in how far each programme goes to fulfil the complete needs of the actor. For example, the Suzuki method implicitly incorporates vocal training which is absent from The Method of Physical Actions and Meyerhold’s Biomechanics, which merely state that finding the right physical action will determine the emotional and psychological outcome, in other words the external informs the internal. Transversely, Suzuki training does not provide the same emphasis on analysing the play as part of the process integral to the training method as does Stanislavsky, and to a lesser extent, Meyerhold. This is perhaps something addressed by the director of a play anyway, engaging at a creative level with the actor’s imagination. For the Suzuki trained actor (and to a certain extent, the actor engaging with Stanislavsky’s Method of Physical Actions) the expression of the words in a play are treated as an action and the shape and sound the words make is important to the physicalisation of them which can inform their emotional context.

If we accept that there are six basic needs that training seeks to provide for then they can be cross compared against the systems and training methods under scrutiny to demonstrate which applies to which:

Training Need	Suzuki Actor Training Method	The Method of Physical Actions	Biomechanics
Interpretation of dramatic or performance text	X	ü	X
Transmitter of written / performance text	ü	ü	ü
Mastery of a specific technique	ü	X	ü
Transmitter of “secrets”	ü	X	X
Self-Expression	ü	ü	ü
Formation of groups	ü	X	ü

This is a simplistic model, and the results could be considered subjective. Does the Method of Physical Actions, for instance, require of the actor to master a technique? Undoubtedly somebody undergoing this form of training demonstrates specific skills, but they are not mandatory to his craft. Stanislavsky said that his system should be regarded as a set of tools, there for use if the need arises. In a similar vein, referring back to Schechner’s analysis of training needs, whether Suzuki training is in the strictest sense “transmitting secrets” could be debated. Given that it draws on Noh and Kabuki traditions to a certain degree may give the inclusion in the table here some merit. Taking that all into account means that the Suzuki Actor Training Method takes the leading edge over the other systems by a slight margin. It provides the performer with a solid training, covering most of the basic needs, but not quite all.

Bibliography

Allain, P. (2002) The Art of Stillness: The Theatre Practice of Tadashi Suzuki. London: Methuen.

Barker, C. (1977) Theatre Games: A New Approach to Drama Training. London: Eyre Methuen.

Benedetti, J. (1998) Stanislavski and the Actor. London: Methuen Drama.

Callery, D. (2001) Through the Body. London: Nick Hern Books Ltd.

Carnicke, S.M. (2000) Stanislavsky’s System: Pathways for the actor in Hodge, A. (ed.) Twentieth Century Actor Training. London: Routledge, pp. 11-36.

Carruthers, I. (2007) Theatre of Suzuki Tadashi. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Dennis, A. (1994) The Articulate Body: The Physical Training of the Actor. New York: Drama Book.

Gordon, M. (1995) Meyerhold’s Biomechanics in Zarrilli, P. B. (ed.) Acting (Re) Considered: A theoretical and practical guide. London: Routledge, pp. 106-128.

Leach, R (2000) Meyerhold and biomechanics in Hodge, A. (ed.) Twentieth Century Actor Training. London: Routledge, pp. 37-54.

Merlin, B. (2007) The Complete Stanislavsky Toolkit. London: Nick Hern Books Ltd.

Nobbs, J. (2006) Frankly Acting: An autobiography of the Frank Suzuki Performance Aesthetics. Brisbane: Frank Theatre Press.

Pitches, J. (2003) Vsevelod Meyerhold. London: Routledge.

Schechner, R (1991) Performer Training Interculturally in Barba, E. and Savarese, N. A Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology: The secret art of the performer London: Routledge, p. 147.

Stanislavsky, C. (1936) An Actor Prepares. Glasgow: Robert Maclehose and Company Ltd.

Stanislavsky, C. (1994) Creating a Role. London: Methuen Drama.

Stanislavsky, C. (1989) Stanislavski's Legacy. London: Methuen Drama.

Sullivan, C. N. (1990) The Actor Moves. Jefferson: McFarland & Company.

Suzuki, T. (1986) The Way of Acting: The Theatre Writings of Tadashi Suzuki. New York: Theatre Communications Group.

Turner, J. (2004) Eugenio Barba. Oxon:Routledge.

Watson, I. (2001) Actor Training in the United States: past, present, and future(?) in Watson, I. (ed) Performer Training: developments across cultures. Australia: Harwood Academic.

Journals

Bent, E. (2008) Approaches to Theatre Training: Madness in the Methods? American Theatre, 25 (1) pp. 56-58. International Index to Performing Arts [Online]. Available at: http://0-iipa.chadwyck.com.brum.beds.ac.uk/quick/displayMultiItem.do?Multi=yes&ResultsID=127668FD386&&QueryName=articles&ItemNumber=1&ItemID=iipa00458161&FormatType=raw&journalID=JID87503255&logType=fulltext (Accessed: 19 October 2009)

Bieganski, R. (2004, January) Approaches to Theatre Training 2004: Acting Technique/Acting Practice: Get on the Floor and Boogie, American Theatre, 21 (1) pp. 42-44. International Index to Performing Arts [Online]. Available at: http://0-iipa.chadwyck.com.brum.beds.ac.uk/articles/displayItemPDF.do?format=PAGE&PQID=525029501&journalID=JID87503255&royaltiesid=LOUJID87503255&product=iipa&articleID=iipa00269840 (Accessed: 19 October 2009)

Gener, R. (2002, January) Approaches to Theatre Training: Where Mystique Meets Technique, American Theatre, 19 (1) pp. 42-44. International Index to Performing Arts [Online] Available at: http://0-iipa.chadwyck.com.brum.beds.ac.uk/quick/displayMultiItem.do?Multi=yes&ResultsID=12766984C99&&QueryName=articles&ItemNumber=1&ItemID=iipa00192393&FormatType=raw&journalID=JID87503255&logType=fulltext (Accessed: 19 October 2009)

Pitches, J. (2008) Tracing/training rebellion - Object work in Meyerhold's biomechanics, Performance Research , 12 (4) pp. 97-103. White Rose Research Online [Online] Available at: http://eprints.whiterose.ac.uk/3731/1/On_Objects_Article_Final.pdf (Accessed: 12 April 2010)

Rossmanith, K. (2008, October) Traditions and Training in Rehearsal Practice, Australasian Drama Studies, 53 pp. 141-152. International Index to Performing Arts [Online] Available at: http://0-iipa.chadwyck.com.brum.beds.ac.uk/quick/displayMultiItem.do?Multi=yes&ResultsID=127669D8EAA&&QueryName=articles&ItemNumber=1&ItemID=iipa00500980&FormatType=raw&journalID=JID08104123&logType=fulltext (Accessed: 19 October 2009)

Sacharow, L. (2004) Enemies: A Russian Love Story, American Theatre, 21 (1) p. 34. International Index to Performing Arts [Online] Available at: http://0-iipa.chadwyck.com.brum.beds.ac.uk/quick/displayMultiItem.do?Multi=yes&ResultsID=127669FCC4F&&QueryName=articles&ItemNumber=1&ItemID=iipa00269838&FormatType=raw&journalID=JID87503255&logType=fulltext (Accessed: 19 October 2009)

Websites

Bailey, A. (2009) Why Choose Drama School? Available at: http://www.he.courses-careers.com/drama.htm (Accessed: 6 December 2009)

NCDT. (2009) Guide to training. Available at: http://ncdt.co.uk/guidetotraining/ (Accessed: 6 December 2009)

Nobbs, J. (2008) Frank Theatre Journal. Available at: http://franktheatre.blogspot.com/ (Accessed: 15 February 2010)

The Conference of Drama Schools. (2009). Available at: http://www.drama.ac.uk/ (Accessed: 6 December 2009)

Unknown

. (2008) Meyerholds Biomechanics. Available at: is.muni.cz/el/1421/jaro2008/DVT058/Mejerchold.doc?fakulta (Accessed: 31

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