Baldwin. Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics. an Ating Technique for Today

0H\HUKROGV7KHDWULFDO%LRPHFKDQLFV$Q$FWLQJ7HFKQLTXHIRU7RGD\

-DQH%DOGZLQ

Theatre Topics, Volume 5, Number 2, September 1995, pp. 181-201 (Article)

3XEOLVKHGE\-RKQV+RSNLQV8QLYHUVLW\3UHVVDOI: 10.1353/tt.2010.0011

For additional information about this article

Access provided by New York University (5 Aug 2015 03:11 GMT)

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/tt/summary/v005/5.2.baldwin.html

Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics:An Acting Technique for Today

Jane Baldwin

The American theatre has undergone radical changes in its repertory andstaging practices in the last thirty-five years. As a result, actors are called uponto display a multiplicity of skills that, sadly, many do not possess. For, with afew notable exceptions, American actor training has not kept pace with theneeds of contemporary theatre. Psychological realism in the form of the Methodretains its iron grip.

In New York, which maintains its reputation as the U.S. center for theatretraining, the Method is the primary tool of instruction. Universities and con-servatories, it is true, frequently augment their acting programs with move-ment and speech, but these courses are too often taught in isolation, their con-tent separated from that of the acting classes. Other acting techniques, otheracting traditions, are not widely explored.

One such alternative tradition, Theatrical Biomechanics, was introducedto American theatre practitioners in June of 1993. Master teachers GennadiBogdanov and Nikolai Karpov were invited to teach Vsevolod Meyerhold'ssystem in its authentic form at an institute hosted by Tufts University.1 Subse-quently, Bogdanov spent several weeks in New York training the actors of thePhoenix Ensemble in preparation for a production in the Biomechanical styledirected by Ivan Popovski. This article discusses the usefulness of Biomechan-ics for the American actor. It describes and assesses the training at the insti-tute, including student reaction, and provides a brief depiction of the applica-tion of the technique to production.

The Revival of Theatrical Biomechanics in Russia

The revolutionary director Vsevolod Meyerhold (1874-1940) developedTheatrical Biomechanics, which is both an acting technique and a productionstyle, as an antidote to his former mentor Stanislavsky's psychological real-ism. Biomechanical experimentation was cut short in the 1930s by Stalin's con-demnation of all forms of art except socialist realism. The Communist

181

182 Jane Baldwin

Meyerhold found himself in the incongruous position of having his art con-demned as "bourgeois" and "alien to Soviet art" by the state Committee on theArts (Rudnitsky 540). By 1938, having completely fallen from favor with theregime, the victim of a vicious smear campaign, Meyerhold had lost his the-atre. Two years later he was dead, shot in prison on February 2, 1940, after asecret trial (Chentalinski 96).2 A victim of the political corruption and egre-gious human rights violations of the Stalinist era, he had been tortured to ex-tract a false confession (Chentalinski 75). With his death, Meyerhold became anon-person in the Soviet Union, his writings and practices outlawed.

In the West, acting teachers periodically attempted to resurrect TheatricalBiomechanics as a methodology. For years, their sources consisted of a fewsketchy writings, plus two dozen photos of an actor performing a Meyerholdtude brought back to the U.S. by Lee Strasberg in 1934. However, even as ar-chival material slowly became more available to Western scholars, missing wasa living link to the work. Thus the results of these Western attempts were inac-curate, unsatisfactory, and ultimately unsuccessful. The practice of TheatricalBiomechanics was presumed to have vanished from the theatre.

Yet in 1972, more than thirty years after Meyerhold's death, the figure inthe photographs, Nikolai Kustov, emerged from the theatrical underground towhich he had been relegated. Valentin Pluchek, director of the Moscow The-atre of Satire, had taken the unprecedented step of inviting Kustov, a formeractor/teacher in Meyerhold's company, to train a select group of eight youngactors in Theatrical Biomechanics.3

Until his death three and a half years later, Kustov worked with the group,training them in the almost forgotten and still forbidden art of Biomechanics.Perhaps his most avid student was Gennadi Bogdanov, newly engaged by theTheatre of Satire after his graduation from GITIS, Russia's leading drama school.Biomechanics was a revelation to Bogdanov, who had been trained in thestate-sanctioned Stanislavsky System. Bogdanov recalls Kustovthen in hissixties, ailing and aged beyond his yearsas a brilliant teacher. No longer ableto sustain the pace of the physical work, Kustov sat most of the time, chainsmoking, observing the students closely, only getting up to show the form ofthe exercises, the nuances and subtleties.

In 1974, Nikolai Karpov began auditing the class, absorbing the techniquebut unable to participate since he was not a member of the Theatre of Satire.Having completed his studies at the Shchepkin State Institute of Theatre Arts,Karpov was then a graduate student and teaching assistant at GITIS, stagemovement and combat his primary interests. Sharing a common vision of thetheatre, Bogdanov and Karpov found themselves drawn to each other.

Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics 183

After Kustov's death, their career paths diverged. Bogdanov remained atthe Theatre of Satire where, in addition to playing in the mainstage produc-tions, he and the group of Kustov-trained actors began developing a Biome-chanical production of Waiting for Godot, in which Bogdanov played Lucky. Itwould take a decade and a radically-changed political climate before the pro-duction would reach the public.

Karpov became an instructor in the Movement Department at GITIS where,disturbed by hidebound traditions, he pushed for change, alienating many ofhis colleagues. Relationships deteriorated, and Karpov moved to the Directing

A rare 1926 photo of Meyerhold's students performing the etude, "Shooting from the Bow."From left to right: Z. P. Zlobin, L. N. Sverdlin, Meyerhold's daughter Irina, and R. M. Genena.Photo: A. A. Temeren, used by permission of the owner, Gennadi Bogdanov.

Department. Undeterred, Karpov continued to advocate reform, particularlythe introduction of Biomechanics. Or perhaps it would be more correct to sayBiomechanics's reintroduction, since the school had been founded under the aus-pices of Meyerhold. Eventually, it became obvious that the pedagogical changesKarpov wanted were not going to be implemented. Frustrated, he left for Syriain the early 1980s to teach in the Damascus Theatre School.

During Karpov's absence, Russia began to undergo the political upheavalwhose repercussions would affect every aspect of life. GITIS was not immune.

184 Jane Baldwin

Politics had always driven the institute's curriculum and continued to do so.The door was cautiously opened to reform, the curriculum reexamined. NikolaiKarpov was invited to return as Chairman of the Movement Department.

Thus Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics began to infiltrate the school'scurriculum. Bogdanov was brought in, at first to teach one course, which turnedinto two; and now Biomechanics is a viable and significant part of the actingand directing program at GITIS (recently renamed the Russian Academy ofTheatre Arts). The two men are very proud of their accomplishment, stating,"Now we can say that truly through tremendous difficulties, in our theatricalacademy, only ours, we have set an example. We have added something newwhich, of course, is old, but had been forgotten a long time ago" (personalinterview).

There is a certain irony that the resurgence of Biomechanics at GITIS couldonly be realized through the collapse of Communism. Although Meyerholdbegan formulating his ideas of a movement-based acting system as early as1905, the development of Theatrical Biomechanics was closely linked to theaims of the evolving Communist culture. Meyerhold viewed the actor as an-other worker in the system devoted to building the new society.

In their approach to teaching Theatrical Biomechanics, Bogdanov andKarpov have nearly eliminated the system's Communist ideology. Meyerhold'sinsistence on strong ensemble was motivated by political as well as aestheticbeliefs. Yet unconscious vestiges of this ideology remain in Bogdanov's andKarpov's teaching, particularly in their vocabulary. For instance, they occa-sionally reprimanded students at the Tufts institute for self-indulgence, forconcentrating on their individuality to the detriment of the group.

It should be noted that GITIS is the only theatre institute in Russia offer-ing Biomechanics, since, at this time, Bogdanov is the only qualified instruc-tor. As Karpov reminds us: "Everything else is based on theoretical research"(personal interview).

The Institute in Theatrical Biomechanics at Tufts4

Eight students of diverse ages and backgrounds participated in thefour-week program. Their common bond was an interest in alternative train-ing and developing fresh techniques, though their specific aims differed. Allwere conscious of the historical implications of the Tufts institute. They rangedin age from their early twenties to late forties: among them were theatre in-structors, actors, directors, and a dancer/choreographer. A number of the stu-dents crossed disciplines, e.g., some of the teachers were actors or directors.


Despite the fact that their movement training varied from strong to almostnon-existent, everyone found the classes equally arduous, not least the profes-sional dancer, Llory Wilson. She discovered, somewhat to her chagrin, that itwas "as much a challenge for me as for anyone else" (personal interview).

Since Bogdanov and Karpov speak only the most rudimentary English,translators were essential. The institute was fortunate in obtaining the servicesof two bilingual actressesone American, who had trained previously withthe teachers in Europe (Kathryn Mederos), and one Russian (Katya Chaika)both of whom participated in the classes. Facilitating the process, Bogdanovand Karpov led and performed the exercises with the students, in contrast totraditional acting classes where the teacher acts as audience and critic. Conse-quently, the instruction was far less language-dependent than the typical course.

Classes consisted of rigorous and varied movement training, six hoursper day, five days per week. When the students began preparing scenes, eveningrehearsal time was added. Each instructor taught the students for half the day,alternating mornings and afternoons. However, to ensure absolute synchroni-zation, the non-teaching instructor always observed the other's class.

Although Bogdanov teaches pure Theatrical Biomechanics and Karpovmore traditional movement, their classes overlap, the natural outcome of hav-ing striven to move in parallel directions and to eliminate philosophical differ-ences in their teaching. In Karpov's classes, the students apply the principlesof Biomechanics to the study of fencing, stage combat, stunt work, and com-plete physical compositions. As the course progresses, vocal work and eventu-ally text are incorporated. Karpov explains his collaboration with Bogdanovthus:

We can give different exercises, different tasks, but we are not in conflictwith one another. We support each other. We build on one another's work.Gena (Bogdanov's nickname) and I agree completely on what we want theactor to gain from the process, (personal interview)

Both instructors maintain emphatically that they are not trying to recre-ate the Biomechanical style as employed by Meyerhold but rather "to create afoundation of Biomechanical principles on which contemporary actors and di-rectors can build their work" (personal interview). They see their teaching as astepping stone to the future.

Theatrical Biomechanics and Emotion

Meyerhold is frequently accused of ignoring the actor's psyche, of train-ing only the exterior. However, when he railed against Stanislavsky's "method

186 Jane Baldwin

of 'authentic emotion,'" it was not emotion that he decried but formlessness(Meyerhold 199). "The fundamental deficiency of the modern actor" was, forMeyerhold, a direct result of developing the inner life at the expense of, andapart from, the physical (199).

Biomechanics is a holistic approach to actor trainingthe integration ofform and emotion. Meyerhold believed, as do his disciples Bogdanov andKarpov, that the affective state must be created physically. In his writings,Meyerhold emphasized that "all psychological states are determined by spe-cific physiological processes," that "from a sequence of physical positions andsituations, there arise those points of excitation which are informed with someparticular emotion" (199). As the actor develops his or her body biomechani-cally, an eloquent instrument for the expression of feeling is being trained. Atthe same time, Biomechanics employs a choreographic/athletic approach whichdemands absolute accuracy. The discipline trains the actor to work in a state ofconcentration and to retain only what is essential. The paradox of TheatricalBiomechanics is the freedom that the mastery of this precise technique givesthe actor. For whatever the biomechanically-trained actor's imagination canconceive, the body can depict.

The system deals with the actor's inner being in a variety of ways. Thestudent learns to surmount emotional as well as physical blocks. Biomechanicsdevelops the ability to perform in a state of profound concentrationan in-valuable tool for the actor. Kathleen Baum, one of the institute students, ar-ticulated a typical reaction:

The whole question of concentration has taken on new meanings for me.There is an intensity, an absoluteness of concentration that I have neverencountered in actor training. In the simplest task, the moment your con-centration is not 100%, you are off. It is visible, it is noted, you feel it inyourself, (personal interview)

Exploring their physical limits, actors break old patterns and retrain theirresponses. Throughout, the instructors remind the actor that the goal of therigorous training is not purely physical expertise but rather its ultimate appli-cation to the creation of a role. For example, the number of balls an actor mayjuggle is far less consequential, ultimately, than who he or she is while jug-gling them.

Fundamentals of Theatrical Biomechanics

Actors train to develop agility, strength, and coordination throughout theirbodies, as well as a strong sense of ensemble. In practical terms, this means


they acquire equal facility on both their left and right sides, become adept atwalking on their hands, and all actors (female as well as male) learn to supporta partner's weight using various parts of their bodies.

From the initial class, students work with partners and in groups. Sincemany of the exercises carry a certain physical risk, the stakes are high, inspir-ing an exceptional intensity of attention, mutual support, and ensemble. Ac-tors seek to develop a total consciousness of the stage environment, experi-enced not only through the eyes and ears but, again, through the entire body.They also learn to remain in control. Unlike movement courses that stress free-ing the self, Biomechanics provides a rigid structure in which focus, precision,and economy of energy are emphasized. Within this structure, the performerdevelops expressiveness.

Rhythm and balance play a critical role. Meyerhold linked the two indis-solubly: "The actor must have rhythm, must be familiar with the laws of bal-ance. An actor ignorant of the laws of balance is less than an apprentice" (200).Rhythm is the element of performance that creates both form and meaning inTheatrical Biomechanics. The actor's role is akin to that of a musician in amusical composition. His or her movements, gestures, line (i.e., the personalmise en scne) fit rhythmically and integrally into the dramatic composition. Toaid the actor's rhythmic development, music is frequently integrated into theclasswork; actors sometimes work with the rhythm, more often against. Theskilled Biomechanical actor can perform while simultaneously utilizing dis-parate rhythms in different parts of the body.

Having thoroughly examined realistic activities, movement, and gesture,Meyerhold concluded that any activity always contains, in a fixed order, cer-tain universal components. He isolated these components, exaggerated them,and gave them a theatrical shape in the exercises and tudes, or movement com-positions, which he created.

In developing his system, Meyerhold created a vocabulary of movement.The terminology of Theatrical Biomechanics offers actors a universal languageof the body, functioning in much the same way as Italian for musicians or Frenchfor ballet dancers. Consequently, Bogdanov, for reasons of accuracy, insists thateven non-Russians learn the original terms. Listed below is the basic vocabu-lary and its translation:

Otkaz: (the refusal) a countermovement, a preparation for the ac-tion which also signals the partner that the actor is ready to inter-act. Meyerhold believed that all movement has a countermovement,no matter how minute, which initiates it.

Pacil: (the sending) both the commitment to and the doing of theaction.

188 Jane Baldwin

Tormos: (the brake) the restraint which must be applied simulta-neously with the forward momentum of the pacil to maintain con-trol.

Tochka: (a point in space, a period at the end of the sentence) orStoika: (a stance) These two terms are often used interchangeably.Both refer to the completion of the action at a specific point in spaceand time.

Powsa: (the pause) a moment of stillness, an elegant counterpointto the physical activity. However, the body, even in stillness, is neverin repose. It continues to radiate the dynamic energy of readinessfor the next action. At the Tufts institute, the powsa was particularlyutilized in the tudes.

This sequence differentiates Theatrical Biomechanics from other forms ofmovement training. The breaking down of all activity into otkaz, pacil, tormos,and tochka instills exactness, spatial and temporal awareness, and plasticityinto the actors' work. Through repetition, the actor internalizes "the laws ofmotion," learning to begin each movement with its opposite, to commit fullyto the action, and to come to a complete stop (Barba 157). Despite the brakingor stopping, the action is never static; each movement contains a trace of thepreceding as well as the germ of the subsequent move. As Kathryn Mederosexplains, "The combination of forward momentum and restraint gives the workan elasticity, creating a kind of theatrical tension which is beautiful to watch"(personal interview).

Biomechanical Exercises and tudes

At Tufts, classes in Biomechanics consisted of four segments, which flowedone into the other and incorporated components of the tudes that terminatedthe strictly Biomechanical work. This format can vary depending upon the du-ration of the session.

Classes start with a long and thorough warmup of the entire body. In theinitial classes at Tufts, warmups ran about an hour. As the students progressed,the warmups were shortened so that the other elements could be expanded.The warmup focuses on flexibility, balance, and coordination. Integrated intothe exercises are principles of ensemble, rhythm, spatial orientation, and re-sponsiveness. A typical sequence starts slowly and gently and includes in thefollowing order: the rotation of the feet and ankles; gentle knee bends; rota-tions and isolation of the knees and hips, shoulders, arms, and wrists; flexingand massaging of the hands and fingers; easy circles of the head.


Exercises then intensify, emphasizing the legs and, particularly, the feet.Because balance is of primary importance, footwork is viewed as the base ofall movement, all expression. Students jog in place and proceed to running in acircle, feet pointed toward the center, arms to the side, always keeping an equaldistance between themselves and their classmates. Even at this early stage ofthe class, students focus on their relation to their surroundings and to others.

Running becomes more complexon the toes, on the heels, on the out-side, then on the inside of the feet. The pace changes, positions change, stepsare varied. Students may lunge across the room, then repeat the same move-ment in a crouch. Throughout the exercise, Bogdanov moves beside the stu-dents, encouraging, correcting, demonstrating, and giving directions to whichthey must react immediately. That there is no obvious rhythm or logic to thedirectional changes forces the student to sustain a high level of consciousness.

The warmup generally ends with a series of strenuous jumps undertakenfrom a crouching position. In preparation, the student squats on the heels; theright leg is extended to the side, then the left, repeating the movement severaltimes; then a jump straight up, arms held high. In mid-air, the knees are broughtto the chest and clutched briefly with the arms. The objective is to try to holdthe position in the air for a moment before landing once more in a crouch. In avariant, the student does not draw up the knees but instead extends the bodymid-airback arching slightly, arms and legs outstretched, chest open, headand eyes focused upwardbefore dropping back into a crouch on landing. Asthe student builds strength, these jumps are performed in alternation, severaltimes in rapid succession. Other legwork may follow.

The next stage of the class consists of spatial work. For the actor, key com-ponents are: (1) to develop an awareness of the dynamic of the body in space;(2) to develop presence; and (3) to explore the ways in which the body canmove through space. As in all biomechanical work, the principles of otkaz, pacil,tormos, and tochka are applied in each exercise. There are numerous exercisesfor this segment. I have restricted myself to three examples:

1. Two partners approach each other and create a simple mise enscne with their bodies. Their relationship to the space is as impor-tant as their relationship to each other's body. The partners createmovement patterns until they have exhausted all possibilities.

2. Again investigating every potentiality, the actor experiments withdifferent ways of walkingforward, backwards, tripping, turning,on one foot, on the hands, etc. This exercise can be used to explorecharacter walks. In a variation, the actor climbs and descends stairs.Each step on the stair requires its own otkaz sequence.

190 Jane Baldwin

3. A third exercise for the group is based on the children's game"Follow the Leader." The leader moves about the room at varyingspeeds and directions, followed by the rest of the class. Movementsinclude jumps, leaps, turns, crouches, touching the floor with oneor both hands, etc.

This phase of the class over, students then move to training with objects,most often batons and balls, employing left and right sides of the body equally.While the obvious skills to be acquired are coordination and balance, the ac-tors simultaneously make other discoveries. They learn about their own bod-ies as they explore the possibilities of movement, using the objects. Signifi-cantly, training with objects also directs the actor's attention outside of him/herself, paving the way towards ensemble work. In class, the actor seldomworks alone; if an exercise does not call for a human partner, then inanimateobjects serve a similar function. Llory Wilson, who wanted to apply her stud-ies at the institute to partnering in dance, noted the phenomenon:

I have learned so much about partnering through the baton work. AU thelearning about how to balance an object that isn't even dynamic, that isn'teven making a decision on its own, has been so helpful. I have learned somuch about how I as a partner would affect the mistakes of another per-son through my decisions, (personal interview)

In this segment as in all the others, there are innumerable variations ofincreasing difficulty. Students are always challenged, never allowed to feelcomfortable. Most exercises begin on the flat floor, then move to ramps, bal-ance beams, or levels of different heights. The following series depicting theactor's work with the baton illustrates the drill required.

Baton poised on the palm of the hand, the actor prepares by bending theknees (the otkaz), a downward movement, although the final movement is up-wards. The baton is moved to a finger, then passed from one fingertip to an-other. The legs help to keep it balanced; the eyes focus on the end of the baton,the inanimate partner. It is balanced on the shoulder, the elbow, the forehead,on the toes of one foot while standing on the other. The actors begin to move,to run, to stop and say a line of poetry while synchronously balancing the ba-ton on the middle finger. Still moving, they twirl the baton hand-over-hand,under a leg, behind the back. Twirling the baton, fingers facing downwards,hands circle to the outside, then the student lifts his/her elbow while bringingthe baton to the shoulder level, then overhead. The baton is brought to theopposite shoulder and caught with the other hand.

The next step involves partnering with another person. Students practicein pairs, tossing the baton back and forth, first with the right hand, then the


left, then with two batons. As they become more competent, they throw andcatch the baton with various parts of the body in myriad ways. A second batonis balanced on the first.

At every stage, Bogdanov adds a subtext of varying complexity, and theobject with which the student is working is endowed with a particular charac-teristic, giving the exercise dramatic meaning. The baton, for example, mightbecome a sword, a magic wand, a tool, etc. In each case, the manner in whichthe actor relates to the object is altered by its new properties.

At the end of the third week of the institute, group improvisations withbatons were introduced, some incorporating music. The students were inclinedto become emotionally swept away by the music rather than using it as a coun-terpoint to their creation, a tendency criticized by the instructors.

In reviewing the improvisation, the instructors reiterated that, workingbiomechanically, the actor perfects the form from which the emotion springs.Although there is freedom of choice in the improvisation, there must be preci-sion of action. The actor must proceed step by step, being careful not to rush.Beginning students tend to skip over sections of the sequence, to sacrifice theotkaz (the refusal) to the pacil (the sending), with chaotic results. Bogdanovalso cautioned the class that the work should be light and joyous.

Classwork culminates in an tude which brings together all the Biome-chanical components. If the exercises are Meyerhold's barre work for the actor,then, in keeping with the dance analogy, the etude parallels the combination.Five tudes were bequeathed to Bogdanov by Kustov. They are entitled: "Shoot-ing from the Bow," "Throwing the Stone," "Jump onto the Chest," "The Slap,"and "The Stab." Meyerhold likened these tudes to brief pantomimic melodra-mas, several minutes in length. Some are monodramas; others involve two ac-tors. At Tufts, the students worked on "Throwing the Stone" for one actor and"The Stab" and "The Slap" for two. In general, the two person tudes presentthe actor with a more complex set of tasks.

Each tude depicts a rudimentary story; the two person tudes have theadditional element of conflict. Each is inspired by an athletic activity or mar-tial art, broken down into prescribed moments and rendered with precise, styl-ized, and bold movements. Performing the tudes demands intricate skillsthe ability to make sudden physical, rhythmical, and emotional transitions;the isolation and coordination of different muscle groups and body parts; pre-cision, endurance, and timing.

The tudes are not an end in themselves but compositions intended for thepractice of a technique. Formalistic, they are diametrically opposed to impro-

192 Jane Baldwin

visation. Like dance combinations, they serve the double function of revealingto the actor areas of weakness and improving those areas. Their aim, however,is distinctly theatrical. Their purpose extends beyond the perfecting of physi-cal skills; equally important is their dramatic component. At this level ofclasswork, the actor's task becomes the complete integration of form and emo-tion.

Inherent to each tude is a dramatic build leading to at least one specificfeeling expressed in formalized gestic movementexuberance, menace, fear,triumph, etc. Because they depict conflict, emotion is particularly high in thepartner tudes. While feeling is expressed to the audience through the gesture,it is also the gesture that evokes feeling in the actor. This is strictly antitheticalto the Method approach of searching for emotion within the realm of personalexperience. And yet, the phrase Bogdanov so often repeats in this regard, "theemotion is in the commitment to the action," is applicable to the Method andBiomechanics alike.

Bogdanov monitors this section of the work very closely since the studentis at risk of falling into the solipsistic trap described by Meyerhold, who casti-gated the actor "so overwhelmed by his emotions, that he has been unable toanswer either for his movements or for his voice" (199). Lost are balance, coor-dination, accuracy, focus, controlin a word, form. The actor experiences arush of feeling but at the audience's expense. To counteract this tendency,Bogdanov has the actors work on the solo tudes in a circle where, in additionto the expression of form and emotion, they concentrate on group timing,rhythm, and spatial relationship. Focus is at once inward, on the actors' ownwork, and outward, on the others in the circle. For the two person tudes, allthe actors work at the same time, so again shared focus is an essential factor.

During the early stages of the learning process, Bogdanov calls out thenames of each component of the tude, signaling the transition from one seg-ment into the next. Segments are linked by what could best be described as anactive pause, in which the body holds its position in a state of dynamic ten-sion. These pauses vary in length, from roughly three seconds to perhaps twenty.As their length is not fixed, the etude's tempo cannot be anticipated. Studentsmust maintain their bodies in a constant state of readiness for the next action.

This is a point to which Bogdanov returns again and again. Like Meyerhold, hebelieves that relaxation, in the sense of letting go, is inimical to theatricality.

Once their execution becomes more competent, students perform the tudeswithout Bogdanov's commands. The group must spontaneously determine thetempo of its transitions from segment to segment in the course of performingthe tude. They listen to each other's breathing and observe peripherally the


pace of the others' gestures and their otkaz, while maintaining individual pre-cision of form in a complex and strenuous movement sequence.

In the partner tudes, all the actors work concurrently, though in pairs.Identical ensemble considerations come into play but with the added ingredi-ent of response. Unlike realistic acting, the dynamic, from the actor's point ofview, is more rhythmic than emotional. The actor orients by the partner'srhythm, feeling the "right" moment to come in. From a directorial perspective,this permits a control over the rhythms of a production that Method spontane-ity does not.

The Dactyl

Initiating and terminating all tudes is the dactyl, the punctuation mark ofthe tude. It is a sequence of movements in which group rhythm is established;this sequence is repeated until the actors are in synchronization. Complicatingthe task is the uneven rhythm of the dactyl. A similar syncopated rhythm isfound in the tudes. Although a complex set of movements, the dactyl takesonly a few seconds to perform.

Standing in the neutral position, feet parallel and opened to shoulderwidth, the actor bounces slightly on the toes. This opening movement is fol-lowed by the otkazknees bend, elbows are back, head bends facing the floor.By contrast, the pacil is an extensionthe legs straighten, and the arms, hands,and face lift straight up, reaching towards the ceiling. The body drops againquickly; the knees bend and bounce; the head hangs forward; then the actorrolls up quickly, and the hands are brought together in an expansive roundedmovement punctuated by two brisk claps. The claps are synchronized with twoknee bounces. There is a brief release of energy as the body flops forward; thenthe legs and body straighten as the actor assumes the neutral positionthetochka. From there, the actor jumps into position to begin the tude.

The following is a description of "The Slap" as it was worked on in classunder the direction of Bogdanov. Throughout this tude, the relation of the ac-tors' bodies to the audience would be in profile or three-quarter silhouette.

The Slap

1. Preparation. Partners A and B face each other in the neutral posi-tion. They are far enough apart so they must lean into a lunge tograsp hands.

194 Jane Baldwin

2. The Stance. Knees bent, actors jump into the air; head and upperbody roll forward and straighten; they land with one foot in frontof the other, still facing the partner.

3. Preparation for the Greeting. From the neutral position, both part-ners pivot right, now facing each other on the diagonal. The lead-ing hip thrusts forward; the weight is on the rear leg, which is bent.The front leg extends straight forward, toe pointed and slightlyturned in. Simultaneously, the right arm draws back, elbow bent,hand at chest level, palm parallel to the torso, fingers extended.The left arm hangs at ease in front of the torso. The partners con-template one another over their left shoulders.

4. The Greeting. Forward weight shift into a deep lunge; the rear legis fully extended. Leaning into each other, partners extend their rightarms and grasp hands.

5. The Stance. The partners release hands and straighten briefly tothe neutral position.

6. The Dance. In a series of quick, rhythmic steps reminiscent of atap dance, the actors shuffle and stamp, hopping from foot to foot,leaning deep into the floor with each step. Simultaneously, theyswing their arms up over their heads in a sweeping gesture andthen rub their hands together as if to warm them.

7. The Stance. At a signal from Bogdanov, the actors jump into theair and land in the neutral position. On the ascent, the arms pull tothe sides, bend at the elbow, and straightenthree times by thecompletion of the descent.

8. Preparation for the Slap. From neutral, in a single wave-like mo-tion, the actors contract, straighten, and pivot right, stepping backonto the right foot. The right knee bends; the weight shifts over theright leg, the entire angle of the body tilting right. The left leg isextended forward, slightly turned in, toe pointed, knee slightly bent.The partners are once again facing one another on the diagonal. Si-multaneously, A's right arm swings slowly back in a wide arc, com-ing to rest overhead, raised and curving, palm opened out. The leftarm is extended, curving downward. Together the two arms form asingle, S-shaped line. Meanwhile B's right arm draws back, elbowbent, hand at chest level, palm parallel to the torso, fingers extended.The left arm hangs down in front of the torso. The partners contem-plate each other over their left shoulders. The effect is frieze-like.


9. Taking Aim. Partner A pivots the upper body right, bringing theright hand around to meet B's cheek. The weight shifts from rightto left leg. Following a slight otkaz backwards, B leans toward A,proffering cheek. Hand and cheek almost touch.

10. The Slap. Partner A shifts weight back onto the right leg, swing-ing the right arm back in a sweeping motion, then forward in a"slap" which brushes past, but does not touch, B's cheek. B recoils,clapping hands together to make a slapping sound. The left arm isflung straight up as the body and head rise to follow, right handhanging toward the floor. The weight shifts to the right leg, whichbends slightly as the left hand drops to touch the slapped cheek. Bgazes upward.

11. Repetition. Using the stance as the otkaz, sequence 6 through 10is repeated with the partners exchanging roles.

12. The Walk. The final sequence. Partners link arms and promenadein a circle. Their gait is military, almost a march, and their free armsswing like those of soldiers on parade.

Scenes

During the last week of classes at Tufts, scene work was added and inte-grated into the work, albeit in rough form. In preparation, sound and then wordswere included in the exercises. The scenes were drawn from Antigone, TwelfthNight, The Taming of the Shrew, and The Tempest, but their focus was physical.Students enjoyed bringing a Biomechanical dimension to these classic scenes.Tumbling, stage combat, juggling, gymnastics were incorporated and combined,as were many of the class exercises. Because of the pressures of time, studentswere unable to bring the scenes to completion, leaving the actors somewhatfrustrated.

In evaluating the institute, students expressed tremendous enthusiasm forthe work and for the instructors. They felt that while it was very demanding,they had gained immeasurably as theatre artists; almost all mentioned thatthey hoped to have the opportunity to continue. All agreed that participatingin a Biomechanics class was a very different experience from what they hadenvisioned in reading about the technique.

Most of them anticipated using what they had learned of Theatrical Bio-mechanics professionally. One of the teachers had plans for directing acommedia-like farce, utilizing many of the class exercises both in the staging

196 Jane Baldwin

and in working with his students. The technique is very useful in comedy be-cause of its emphasis on rhythm and timing. Two of the students who teach atSyracuse University, Kathleen Baum and Donna Inglima, intended to team teacha movement-based acting class. Dancer Llory Wilson envisaged choreograph-ing a piece which would bridge the gulf between dance and theatre by usingBiomechanical movement. And Marianne Kubik, a director who works with analternative theatre company, had already begun to incorporate rudimentaryBiomechanical exercises into the rehearsal process, to which her actors re-sponded enthusiastically.

Production

The institute left us with a question: After a month of intensive introduc-tory study in Theatrical Biomechanics, how well can students apply the skillsand principles they have learned to performance? That is what the company ofthe Phoenix Ensemble set out to discover when they invited Gennadi Bogdanovto work with them.5

The Phoenix Ensemble first became acquainted with Bogdanov's work in1991, when the company brought one of its productions to GITIS as part of anexchange. During his stay, Paul Knox, artistic director and actor with the com-pany, audited Bogdanov's class a few times and became persuaded that theMethod-trained Phoenix Ensemble actors had much to gain frommovement-based Biomechanics.

Knox conceived a project with two related objectives: the first, to expandthe actors' creative possibilities; the second, to put the training to a practicaltest in a production of Mayakovsky's Banya (The Bathtub ) in its American trans-lation. This play, directed by Meyerhold in 1930, would allow the Phoenix ac-tors to use their Biomechanical training directly and fully.

Bogdanov spent almost five weeks with the company, giving classes threehours a day, three days a week, with another eight hours on the weekend. Apartfrom the absence of Karpov, the most significant difference between the Phoe-nix Ensemble's training and that at Tufts was the number of hours of classesper weekseventeen hours for the Phoenix versus thirty at Tufts. However,the fact that the Phoenix actors were part of an existing company, and that thetraining was a prelude to a specific undertaking, gave the work immediacyand a different dynamic.

The Bathtub was mounted by Ivan Popovski, a recent graduate of GITIS'sfive-year program and a bright star in the rising generation of Russian direc-tors. Popovski arrived after Bogdanov's departure and spent his initial time


observing the Phoenix company performing Biomechanical exercises and tudesbefore beginning auditions. His knowledge of Bogdanov's work aided him in

his task, which he viewed as "the con-clusion to the work the company haddone with Gena" (personal interview).While Popovski does not consider him-self a strict Meyerhold disciple, he toosubscribes to a theatre of form and

movement. Like Meyerhold, he be-lieves physical form is the mediumwhich reveals emotion.

During the first few days,Popovski encountered a number ofchallenges. Particularly problematicwas the fact of having less control overthe total production than he has inworking with his own company. Hispool of actors was both unfamiliar tohim and circumscribed. The agreementwith Knox stipulated that the castwould have to be drawn from the Phoe-nix Ensemble. A major reason forchoosing The Bathtub was that it gavethe company's seventeen actors theopportunity to participate. Casting ul-timately crossed gender and raciallines, a pragmatic rather than an artis-tic choice due to the limited number ofmale actors.

From the Phoenix Ensemble production of TheBathtub by Paul Schmidt, directed by IvanPopovski. From top to bottom: EdwardCunningham, Paul Knox, Cecilia Arana, andTony Jackson. Photo: T. L. Boston.

The difference in training and ex-perience of the Phoenix Ensemble alsoposed difficulties for Popovski, as didthe rehearsal period. Six weeks of re-hearsal, generous by American stan-dards, is far less than the time span towhich he is accustomed. Familiar with

the original Mayakovsky script, he wasunacquainted with the American ver-sion. Working in English was also prob-lematic. Albeit furnished with a trans-lator, Popovski preferred to deal di-

198 Jane Baldwin

rectly with the actors and was sometimes frustrated by the limits of his En-glish.

These hindrances, however, were greatly mitigated by the actors of thePhoenix Ensemble. Their warmth, friendliness, receptivity, and especially theircommitment impressed Popovski. He recalls: "I was struck by the joy that theybrought to the work, that kind of hunger. They gave so much of themselves"(personal interview). Stimulated by their studies with Bogdanov, the companyentered the rehearsal process eager to make the transition from the workshopexercises to production. As a result of the training, they felt that "their mentaland physical capabilities had been opened up to what would have been un-imaginable before" (personal interview).

The actors found it fascinating to connect the physical training to charac-ter. Despite the fact that creating character through movement rather than psy-chology was a departure for them, they responded well to the stretch. For ex-ample, Cathy Daves played Mr. Yamarama, a caricatured Japanese business-man whose dialogue was gibberish. Unable to rely on words, the traditionalpoint of departure for building a role, Daves found Biomechanics had freed

From left to right: Paul Knox, Edward Cunningham, Cecilia Arana in The Bathtub. Photo: T. L.Boston.


her from a naturalistic mindset and allowed her to create a multifaceted char-

acter. The actors developed an almost directorial awareness of composition,while their acquired physical prowess allowed them to take risks which servedthe mise en scne, giving it a life it would not have had otherwise.

The production was a tribute to Meyerhold. Scenic and costume designs,which had been prepared before Popovski's arrival and without his input, wereadaptations of the original. Felix Filshtinsky's set, a modified version ofMeyerhold's multi-level constructivist "machine for actors," consisted of scaf-folding, platforms, stairs, and ladders. Space and budget limitations necessi-tated downscaling. Nevertheless, the director made good use of levels and plat-forms; nimbly, the actors scampered, climbed, lay on and hung from the set,creating a performance where the visual image was at least as important as thespoken word. Popovski coordinated historical components of Meyerhold'sproduction as well as elements of the Biomechanical tudes into a mise en scnethat was very much his own. The tudes were integrated into the staging inmuch the same way as ballet exercises are choreographed into a dance.

Unfortunately, Paul Schmidt's adaptation of Banya was a weak link in theproject. Like Meyerhold, Mayakovsky espoused political theatre. With Banya,both playwright and director were treading dangerous waters, attacking theSoviet bureaucracy and, by extension, the direction of their society. Recogniz-ing that the original, with its allusions and complicated punning, would beincomprehensible for his audience, Schmidt updated and Americanized the play(Schmidt 68). The issues Schmidt raisesN.E.A. funding, sexual harassment,the role of art in the U.S., industrial powerwhile important, are less crucial.Perhaps the pivotal difference, however, is that Schmidt is writing for an audi-ence of the convinced. Schmidt's public shares his politics; thus it is impos-sible for his adaptation to have the same polarizing effect as Mayakovsky'soriginal.

For the Phoenix Ensemble, the experiment proved successful. Reviews,while mixed, were more favorable than not. More important to the companywas their artistic growth. Even within the short time-frame of their work withBogdanov and Popovski, both their concept and practice of acting evolved.The skills they acquired through their Biomechanical training have given themgreater confidence and have broadened their creative range. Speaking for hiscompany, Paul Knox describes their greatest gain: "We felt that we expandedour physical capabilities and built a physical discipline into which we couldthen bring the emotional life" (personal interview). They came to believe thatBiomechanics is not necessarily a discrete discipline and that its external ap-proach can be synthesized with the psychological technique demanded by mostof our drama, enriching it. Eager to continue their exploration of Theatrical

200 Jane Baldwin

Biomechanics, the Phoenix Ensemble managed to raise sufficient funds to bringBogdanov back for another month's training in the summer of 1994.

Bogdanov and Karpov continue to teach internationally as part as part ofthe campaign they are waging to introduce, develop, and proliferate Theatri-cal Biomechanics. In the spring of 1996, they will return to the U.S. to conducta Biomechanical Institute at Syracuse University.

Jane Baldwin is an Instructor of Theatre at The Boston Conservatory and theCollege of Holy Cross.

Notes

1. Partial support for the institute was provided by a grant from the Trust for MutualUnderstanding.

2. New information concerning Meyerhold's arrest and trial has recently come tolight. While researching material for his book, La parole ressucite: dans les archiveslittraires du KGB, Vitali Chentalinski discovered in the archives of Lubyanka Prison aletter from Vsevolod Meyerhold to Molotov, then Prime Minister of the Soviet Union,protesting and detailing the vicious physical and psychological torture he had under-gone at the hands of the secret police.

3. During the course of the institute, I interviewed instructors Gennadi Bogdanovand Nikolai Karpov extensively with the assistance of translator Kathryn Mederos.Having begun their professional careers during the early 1970s, they were an invalu-able source of first-hand information about the Soviet theatre of this period.

4. The description and explication of the work is based on my daily observation ofthe institute's classes as well as in-depth discussions and interviews with the studentsand teachers over a four-week period.

5. As part of my research, I interviewed members of the company as well as viewingthe production.

Works Cited

Barba, Eugenio. A Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology: The Secret Art of the Performer. London:Routledge, 1991.

Baum, Kathleen. Personal interview. 27 June 1993.

Bogdanov, Gennadi. Personal interviews. 24, 28, and 29 June 1993.

Chentalinski, Vitali. La parole ressucite: dans les archives du KGB. Trans. Galia Ackermanand Pierre Lorrain. Paris: ditions Robert Laffont, 1993.


Inglima, Donna. Personal interview. 29 June 1993.

Karpov, Nikolai. Personal interviews. 19, 24, and 28 June 1993.

Knox, Paul. Personal interview. 12 November 1993.

Kubik, Marianne. Personal interview. 27 June 1993.

Mederos, Kathryn. Personal interview. 2 July 1993.

Meyerhold, Vsevolod. Meyerhold on Theatre. Ed. and trans. Edward Braun. London: EyreMethuen, 1978.

Popovski, Ivan. Personal interview. 5 December 1993.

Rudnitsky, Konstantin. Meyerhold the Director. Trans. George Petrov. Ann Arbor: Ardis, 1981.

Schmidt, Paul. Introduction to The Bathtub. Theater 22.2 (1991): 68.

Slonim, Marc. Russian Theatre: From the Empire to the Soviets. Cleveland: World Publishing,1961.

Wilson, Llory. Personal interview. 25 June 1993.

Baldwin. Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics. an Ating Technique for Today

Documents

Transcript of Baldwin. Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics. an Ating Technique for Today