Who Is This Person?

Gang, Darlings,

An important idea to keep in mind is that nothing about acting is set in stone. There is no “right way” to do any creative process. At the moment I’m in a heated exchange with total strangers [on Facebook] about acting, which began with something Brian Cranston said about The Method being bullshit. I should have let it go, but I couldn’t. This argument may very well go on for years. 

One of the issues about creating a role is sorting out who the character is. Or, better, who this human being is. A massive number of books have been written on the subject and I’m not going to solve it in this email, but I would like to address one issue: the difference between the character I’m playing and me. For some actors this is easy. My friend, Margo Martindale has from the beginning of time had a knack for playing characters that are nothing like her. I’m guessing it came from her high school years in  Jacksonville, Texas where she played Rose Alvarez in Bye, Bye Birdie and Amanda in The Glass Menagerie. From a very young age, she was playing parts that were nothing like her. Mind you Margo has never let Jack Heifner or me forget that we never let her audition for the role of a cheerleader in Jack’s play, Vanities, – and she’d been a cheerleader in high school.

This problem is exacerbated of course in television. When Grant Show was going to audition for the original Melrose Place series, he said he wouldn’t need me to coach him, – since the character description was, “Young, good looking, well built, and emotionally removed.” When he played Terry Molloy in the stage version of On the Waterfront, we worked every day for a month before he left for rehearsals. I even had him to one of the scenes for Stella Adler’s master class.

The problem of me versus my character. Once I started zoom classes and we were able to do more in-depth work, I finally had the time to dig into this. Actually, I was forced into it when my student, Raphaël, playing someone who had freed a concentration camp during World War II, described what he first saw when the soldiers entered the camp. The work was quite brilliant and everyone in this class was extremely moved. The problem was: it was the actor’s response to what he saw and not the character’s. And, yes, it matters. Because the idea here is that we really must commit ourselves to serving the play – and not just creating effects. It wasn’t what Raphaël was trying to do, but it’s what happened. I sought out assistance in solving this issue by getting in touch with my resident Stanislavsky genius, Sharon Carnicke. Sharon reminded me of a late 19th actor I hadn't thought of since a theater history in college. Benoit Constant Coquelin. I love his idea of how to approach building a character. 

The important starting point to remember is that there is a “you" and there is a "your character". Coquelin apparently would close his eyes and “see” the character ‘over there’. I never think it’s a good idea to close your eyes when you work, but it might be something you need to do. But clearly knowing that you are building someone else seems to me a very smart way to build any part of the character to choose to build. Even how the character is like you and how the character is not like you. Any area that your script analysis abilities have opened up to you: the mindset, the work ethic, the feelings about family life, the class of the character, the profession, on and on and on. And then periodically I try him on a bit. Just a little bit. I love Stella’s understanding that “I can believe this much today.” I eventually am able to “morph” into the character at will. Or Simon Callow’s turn of phrase: shape-shift into the character.

Anyway this is an article Sharon Carnicke used as part of her advanced acting class at USC, a class they no longer have because the students complained that they didn’t need a class in the history of acting.

See you Wednesday at 5 o’clock (NY time) and Saturday at 2 o’clock (NY time).

Milton

Your Relationship with Your Character

Good morning/afternoon:

The Film Forum is currently hosting a Lee Grant retrospective. Lee was my business partner for five years in the early eighties, during which we did maybe 8 or 9 films together. Ellen mentioned recently having seen her in Detective Story, a film I hadn’t seen until they showed it recently at the Forum. Looking over her body of work, Lee’s an extraordinary actress, having won an Oscar, a couple of Emmy’s and 18 other nominations. (During a very dark period in our history, Lee was blacklisted for twelve years and couldn’t work.) I found her performance as Arkadina in The Seagull, (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qiPfPzt8azca) on YouTube and it rivals any you will ever see (including Meryl Streep’s). As part of the retrospective the Film Forum showed What Sex Am I? last Saturday and Down and Out in America last night. What Sex Am I? was the documentary we did on transvestites and transsexuals. And Down and Out in America was the (Academy Award winning) documentary we did on the homeless. Both documentaries were done in the 80’s and I hadn’t seen either one of them since they were finished. 

Astoundingly, both documentaries hold up very well. Even though it’s been over thirty years and there is a slightly more enlightened attitude towards gender dysphoria (of course the homeless problem has clearly become far worse), what hit me was not only how powerful both documentaries are, but how completely the people in the documentary revealed themselves, the deeply hidden vulnerable parts of themselves. Their humanness was overwhelming. Everyone in the audience stopped eating their popcorn.

I think much of the success of both of these documentaries is owing to Lee Grant and how she approached each of these people. That she is an actress made a big difference. I’m convinced in the same way we try to understand a character in a very interior way, in our attempt to move into their skin, Lee talked to these people as if she were about to play a part. A part called their life. The way she asked questions was not like Anderson Cooper or Oprah, but with a kind of soul connection. It’s the only description I can come up with at the moment. You can feel the empathetic relationship to the character.

There is a lesson for us to learn from questions we ask the characters we’re playing. It’s not just about interviewing our characters, it’s about having a relationship to the question you’re asking them. In Down and Out Lee asked the Bank Guy (who was at an auction of a farmer’s machinery) why he was there. Even the question had a built-in quality of accusation. Asking the former wife (no gay marriage in 1984) of a transgender woman how she was able to stay in the relationship, had a meaningful empathy, not just a question on a list.

Gerrard and I had a strange experience last week when we accidentally went into the wrong movie theater and ended up watching the first twenty minutes of a documentary called Midnight Family. The documentary, which was shortlisted for the Oscars yesterday, is about the cutthroat industry of private ambulance services in Mexico City. (I’m sure it was my vote that made the difference.)

This was a totally fortuitous event. At first we weren’t sure what we were watching. Even though it was in Spanish, the lead kid, who was nineteen, was so passionate and charismatic, Gerrard turned to me at one point and asked, “who is that actor!” He was riveting. Of course he was. It was his life. He was actually living in the conflict of this world. Every moment had an urgency. The stakes were high. Everything was a matter of life and death. We realized our mistake and made our way to the correct cinema for Marriage Problem and arrived just in time to watch Scarlett Johansson do a monologue about what made her marriage fall apart. It was scary. Not one honest moment. No past that was believable. She talked about the breakup of her marriage as if she were talking about how frustrating it is to stand in line at the grocery store. This was followed not long after with Adam Driver insisting that his son meant everything to me, a piece of information we would have never guessed had it not been in the script.

There was no marriage … there was no breakup … there was no son at the center of their issues. Sure, there was an actor ‘playing’ the son, but neither Scarlett nor Adam had any relationship to the truth of their connection to him. 

Watch documentaries. Begin to watch real people in moments of conflict. When you begin to ask questions about the character you’re building, don’t ask in the dry manner that Anderson or Oprah would. It’s their job to report, not to experience. It’s your job to let us know what your character is going through. Begin to even ask questions as a road into the character. This is a strange note, but begin to ask question of your character as if you care.

What Is My Character’s Problem?

Dear Milton,

I have a scene where I’m playing a dead woman’s ghost in a play my best friend has written to help her process her grief. 

My teacher, Pete, keeps talking about my need and what I need in each moment. But then he talked in class about how the need won’t necessarily be evident to the audience. And it confused me about what exactly I should be working on. Should I be working on things that will only benefit the audience, or things that will benefit me as the actor playing the role? 

I’m very confident in my ability as an actress, and Patrick last semester adored me. But Pete is making me feel confused with the way he gives his notes. It makes me doubt myself as an actor. 

I just know I can do this, but I feel lost in all the notes I’ve been getting from my teacher as it’s a lot to think of. I don’t know what do with it all. Is there anything you could help me with in preparing for this character that I could bring into rehearsal.

Thank you in advance,

Lost in the Notes

Dear Lost in the Notes,

I’m currently drowning in work (plus, of course, attending Isaac’s lecture today), but I’ll try to give the script a look over the weekend.

There is so much to think about in acting … and so much to learn. Although I think it was meant as a slight exaggeration, Stella once said you can probably only learn one thing a year. And I think that’s pretty close. I don’t know what your background is, but to suddenly realize that there is actually a technique involved in acting and it’s not just throwing yourself out on stage and hoping something lands … well, it’s a lot to take in.

I will say this, – and I don’t know Pete … but knowing what a character needs is not the worst thing ever to work on. I would just begin by asking “what’s my character’s problem?” If you know the character’s problem, figuring out what she needs is much easier. As to the audience: well, after directing for thirty years, I’ve only just begun to consider the audience as even remotely important in my process. I’ve always hated them. I rehearse a play and we have this wonderful family - and suddenly strangers come into our living room. The audience will never have any idea what you’re specifically working on, but that’s no big deal. 

Also, there’s a difference between work in class and work you do on your own. In class we are polite and classy, but we don’t have to be so polite when we’re doing our own private work. Although I’ve never used the word “need” myself, if I were forced to, I can see myself (in a recent audition piece I’ve been working with an actor on) saying something like, “I need the mother-fucker dead.” It’s a playable action for me. In class I would no doubt have been much more tasteful.

Changing from Patrick to Pete is important. If you think Pete is confusing, wait until you get out in the real world. Sigourney Weaver once told me that a director gave her the note, “Do it the same way, but massage it a little.” It’s important that you become adaptable. Every actor goes through this from job to job. I’ve been teaching forever - and I can’t tell you the horror stories that actors have related to me. I’ve been thinking I should do a podcast with all the “worst of” notes actors have had to deal with.

One of the most difficult issues is avoiding the pitfall of trying to do too many things at the same time. It becomes slightly overwhelming if you try to force it all to fit in. 

Perhaps we can meet over zoom at some point and talk about it.

Good luck. It’s a difficult art form and we’ve all spent a lifetime trying to figure it out.

Best Milton

Michael Chekhov

By the way, what are your thoughts on Michael Chekhov and his acting theories/techniques?

My dear friend,

Always a pleasure to hear from you! 

There are things about Michael Chekhov which are usable, but mostly I think he is “interesting.” I had a conversation with Stella once. She asked me if I’d read the Michael Chekhov book and asked me what I thought. Stella felt his ideas were interesting, but she wasn’t sure how usable it was for an actor. 

One of the things I kind of like is his idea of building a character by creating this other person whose “body” you step into. I think he has three considerations, even though I can’t remember what they are at the moment. Physical, maybe mental … and something else. It was sort of helpful, even though Stella’s “How is the character like you? How is the character not like you?” covers the same material, even though thinking about it specifically is helpful. Mind you I found the process of the late 18th century actor Coquelin slightly more helpful. He would close his eyes and build this other person and he was then able to “morph” into him. There’s a British actor I met who called it “shape-shifting". [Morph and shape-shifting both indicate an interest in science fiction.] 

Two things about Michael Chekhov that I think are worrisome. First of all, he was considered the best actor Stanislavsky trained – and I’ve never really trusted actors talking about acting. They know what works for them and they assume it will work for everyone. I have found universally that is not the case at all. What’s true is that he had an extraordinary sense of theater. And he knew how to get there. There’s a famous story about an exercise that Stanislavsky gave his class, where you were meant to relive the death of your father. Apparently Michael Chekov’s exercise was brilliant beyond expectations and Stanislavsky said so. Two weeks later Stanislavsky ran into Chekhov’s father on the street. What that tells me is that Chekov knew how to get the desired effect. And that’s what I find to be true about his way of working. There is an assumption that there is an effect and there’s a way to get to it. He uses a lot of physicalizing actions, which Stella also used, but Stella more clearly used it as a tool when an actor couldn’t get to something emotionally. I fear what has happened with the Michael Chekhov Technique (at least from the teacher whose class I sat in on) is that if you have a line like “I hate you” and you do some physical thrusting you can get to the line easier. But it flies in the face of the idea that the play is not in the words. Apparently there’s only one way to play such a line of dialogue. 

A confession: I was on set with Sean Astin once during the filming of a film called Toy Soldiers. He was supposed to come into the headmaster’s office really pissed off. I watched them film the first take and Sean was pushing it. Before the second take I told him to throw a book down before walking into the scene. It scared the shit out of the sound dude, but Sean got the moment.

Best to you. Nothing like writing about acting on a Monday morning.

Milton

“WHAT IF THIS HAPPENED TO ME?” IS NOT THE QUESTION.

This was part of an interview with Audra McDonald in today’s NY Times:

I plan to have a screaming fit about Audra’s statement during class today, but these are exactly the kinds of topics we can discuss in our June 3rd Session of … Conversations On Acting. These are the confusions actors have all the time. Both of them. I can’t tell you how many pages of answers to just these kinds of emails I have. If actors were to read just your book and mine, all would be clear.

Much love,

Professor Justice

A CHARACTER THAT HAS SOME PLACES TO GO,
AUGUST 23, 2022

Good morning, Howard,

Hope all is well. 

I thought I’d tell you a bit more about how we’ve been working and directions I’m pushing Kevin. Obviously, I don’t want to go down the wrong road. I’ve become aware of a few issues and I want to make sure I’m not inventing something you don’t have in mind.

After our last email and the discussion of what they learn from each other, the idea that Duncan learns empathy from Matt was an important piece of information. It’s helped with another problem, which is Kevin is having a bit of difficulty getting a difference between himself and Duncan. I've approached character a couple of different ways with him. One is vintage Stella: how is the character like you; how is the character not like you? The other is something I picked up (not in person) from an actor from the late 1800s. He imagined he was visualizing and building another person. And then when he felt as if he had him, he’d morph into him. This idea was attractive to Kevin. It seems to be easier for him to see Duncan as this “other guy” – and then I step into his skin. 

So … we’ve gone down a road of Duncan is like the newly converted. He’s so happy that he’s been saved, he’s convinced that this will save everyone. In fact, he’s so convinced this will save everyone, he believes that if you aren’t pursuing self improvement, you’re lying to yourself. I think it comes out of the line: “Do you have any other dreams?” He can’t imagine that someone hasn’t tapped into their higher self. The lack of empathy rears its ugly head because Duncan is blind to other people’s issues – and he won’t take no for an answer. The little old lady who dropped her bag of groceries is exactly the kind of thing he would do. He doesn’t see anything but that she can do it if she tries.

He kind of understood this idea. Apparently he has a friend who is extremely bright and in addition he has two kids, a house to support, and needs money. He was offered a higher position at a tech company and turned it down. It made sense that even though Kevin wouldn’t say anything to him, Duncan definitely would.

I know there is a fine line between finding his behavior amusing and hating him. It’s the reason I’m so in awe of comedy. I’ve only directed one Neil Simon play(because he scares me) – and the big issue for me was getting underneath the funny lines and not losing the comedy. 

Kevin asked me a question in yesterday’s session about why Kevin was this way. [It’s such an actor question that I fear what’s happening to our dear Mr. Atlas.] I went down a fun road with this one. I asked Kevin if he would have gotten into Harvard. He said that he was accepted at Princeton (but couldn’t afford it), so he guessed he could have. The difference is that Duncan was rejected at Harvard, so he’s always got something to prove. It probably also reflects on his feelings about Miss Jenkins, the French teacher. Obviously, none of this is mentioned in the text, but it seems to be giving Kevin a footing.

His other question yesterday was that he didn’t want to make Duncan unlikeable. This is again a really iffy area about casting. I explained to him the concept of what an actor brings for free to the table. No matter what part Brad Pitt plays, he will bring a bad-boy fun sexuality to the part. You get that for free. I gave him several other examples of actors and reminded him that his success as a speaker had as much to do with his personality as it did with what he had to say. And that was what he brought to the table. There was no way we would ever lose the charm of Kevin in the mix. [This might amuse you. I began to understand the idea of what an actor brings to the table when I was the producer’s assistant on the Bob Hope Show. There was a meeting with Phyllis Diller’s team about how Phyllis wanted to change her image and wanted to dress more stylishly. Mort, who was both the producer and head writer, said “Absolutely. No problem.” After the meeting I asked Mort how we were going to adjust to that. He assured me that it wasn’t a problem: "Phyllis already thinks she's a stylish dresser."]

Kevin has also responded well to the idea of … don’t panic … playing actions. I haven’t told him that’s what it is, since the concept of actions I consider to be one of the most difficult in acting. But I had him take the first line and play it several different ways: Play it like you’re scolding them; Play it like you’re calming their panic; Make it simply for them – like they can do this. It seems to be freeing him up and giving him confidence. I think one of his biggest problems is that he is such a hard worker, he felt like the most important thing was to memorize the words and decide on some inflections. As a result he’s worried more about how he’s saying something rather than what he’s talking about.

Some day when you’re bored and have nothing to do, I’ll send you my book: I Don’t Need An Acting Class. I point out in the book that the biggest sin of the actor is reading a script and deciding in advance how to play the lines. I think adding to that Kevin has been involved in all three versions of his character. My guess is he’s memorized all three characterizations and they are all swimming around in his head.

He has a sense that Ryan’s character is him, because that’s the way he is in life. But that Duncan is not so easy to write because Kevin is not such a humorous person. I was able to use the example of Jerry Seinfeld, whose character on Seinfeld is exactly the way he is in real life. On the other hand Michael Richards was an actor and Kramer was an evolved character. 

Anyway … I’m probably telling you more than you want to know, but he’s a bright boy and the questions he’s asking are good ones, but they require making some choices. I suppose you’ll know more when you see a video of the opening speech, which I’m hoping to send to you on Wednesday. You may not even be able to tell the choices we’ve made, so it won’t make much difference. But I’d hate to go down a road that fights where you’re headed.

I’m around all day, if I’'ve been unclear in this email and you would like to chat. I have a client (I’m still a hooker on the side) at 5 o’clock NY time, but other than that I’m spending the day trying to come up with excuses for not exercising. [Duncan would have a field day with me!] 

I realize I’ve rambled a lot on this email, but I want to make sure I’m giving you a character that has some place to go. That he’s got a ‘tragic flaw’ that causes problems for Matt and gives you the conflict you need. I’m approaching Duncan almost as if he’s clueless to other people’s life baggage and enthusiastically digs in to fix them. He loves the idea of the French teacher because she bottomed out. He loves that shit.  

I cannot imagine how you come up with a series. I’m not just in awe, I’m overwhelmed with the idea of it.

Best,

Milton

THE SPINE OF A CHARACTER

Hey, kids,

I’m including the script analysis class in this email, because there are questions that keep coming up (thank you, Amanda) that center around this issue and even though it won’t make complete sense, you’ll get an idea what we were working on in technique class yesterday.

Oh, and I pushed the wrong button or something and was not able to record yesterday’s class. Mind you it could have been due to the distraction of a 5 month old super-star.

Here’s where I’m headed with the concept of finding a through-line action for your character. Quite honestly, I hate that term, but it tells us that there is something at the core of this character that explains everything they do. All of their behavior.

I don’t think there’s “a simple question” that you can ask that will shortcut the concept, even though, “What does the character want?” or “What does the character need?” could lead you where you want to go. Even though when I think of those two questions, they’re not really complete. There’s always a danger of coming up with a quick-fix answer.

What hits me is that there is a central core … spine … self … of a character. Something that is at the bottom of all of their behavior. Keep in mind, it’s important to begin to see the difference between a plot in a character’s life and the core of who this person is. It’s not a quick answer and you really have to look at the text in order to justify your thinking on this. I’d like to add to the confusion by pointing out something like, “He’s struggling to find meaning” could be a plot that exists at some point in the play … and, depending on the play, it might be the center of the character.

Keep in mind, I’m trying to help you get to a point where you are doing the work of a gigantic actor and not just someone who is trying to find a few tricks to get a job. I’m convinced that if you can grab onto a “self” of your character, it will give you something concrete to hold onto.

Except for Brady, you were all in Script Analysis last term, so let’s look at Bernie and Georgie. [I think you’ll still get the idea, Brady.]

I would say this core through-line action of Bernie is somewhere in the world of “to fight for his artistic vision.” [Or as Stella Adler once said, “You fuck with my talent and I’ll kill you!”] It seems to me that everything comes out of that. The scene we worked on where he’s trying to figure out Georgie and see if she’s a problem; the scene in the dressing room with her later; the nurturing of Frank, the star of the production; the horror when he realizes that Frank is still drinking and he’s misjudged Georgie; his need to have Georgie get Frank back on track … and then the surprise to himself, when he falls in love with Georgie. I think all of this falls into a center of Bernie that supports his sense of being an artist. It’s an in-depth understanding of the size of the idea of being artist. (refer to the Shaw monologue about the artist)

With Georgie the thrust has to do with “to save her husband,” which I think is stronger than “to take care of her husband.” Maybe it’s “to fight for the survival of her husband.” She will do this at all costs. In fact at the end of the play, by which time she’s fallen in love with Bernie, she stays with her husband, because she knows that he cannot function without her.

I think if we can find this central “self” of a character, it will help give us clarity about the character's behavior. You’re going to have to be very clear in terms of the references in the text that support your ideas. Also, you’re really going to have to understand the size of the idea you’re talking about. There is a reference to this on page 70 in that epically classic book on acting, I Don’t Need An Acting Class. We will continue work on this, obviously, but I want us to begin to consider this as a part of putting together our work on a play. 

And with everything, you keep going back to it to see whether you need to tweak.

Have a lovely weekend.

Matteo’s Grandfather

A CHARACTER’S MOTIVATIONS

AMANDA: Hi, Milton! How much does a character necessarily know about their own motivations? Essentially, do characters themselves necessarily know why they want what they want or do what they do, and, if not, how do we work with that?

MILTON: This is such an important idea that I will discuss it in class.

For example, it may be that Ann wants to marry Chris because she loves him. Or it could be that Ann only thinks she loves Chris, but what she’s actually in love with is how he reconnects her to the home/life from which she was uprooted/torn away, and the happier times before everything went to hell and she moved away. Come to think of it, she never actually says, “I love you,” back to him. Or could it be that she wants to marry him because being with him might somehow exonerate what could be her “guilt by association,” especially in the eyes of others, but also perhaps to herself? (How could she still be viewed as part of the “murderers” the neighbors were yelling at before she moved away if she’s loved by, and married to the guy people see as a beacon of truth and goodness?)  Or it could be a combination...Or something else entirely. Would she even necessarily know/be conscious of her own true reasons for wanting to be with Chris (or Chris with her), even if we do, and how might that affect our work and choices, or am I overcomplicating things? (I mean, if everyone were completely aware of the “whys” of what they do, I imagine there would be fewer therapists in business.)

This is also a huge discussion, which is a really important one. Also, we’ll discuss in class. I’m impressed with your questions.

Milton

CAN WE BELIEVE WHAT A CHARACTER SAYS?

AMANDA: How much can we believe what a character says, or, how do we know they’re telling the truth when it’s less obvious in the text? 

For example, Ann tells Chris that she didn’t get married two years ago “because you started to write me.” Do we just take that at face value? I just keep wondering, if that letter was “ambiguous,” and not some big declaration of love, what about that letter, or her, or the other relationship she was in would make her call things off with more of a “sure thing” at the time, and “wait for" Chris? Other than Chris, what kind of guy from what kind of family during that time would want to marry a girl whose father was not only in prison, but imprisoned for “murdering" war heroes? (Or, at least, what kind of guy in NY did she think she could get to marry her?)  Or, could she have flown under the radar for awhile (no pun intended), but was found out, dumped, and realized there was no escaping others’ judgement (I realize this may be dangerously close to “inventing plot,” but the idea still crossed my mind)? Or, if she went from living that same, relatively “spoiled,” easy lifestyle as Chris to having to spend "three weeks salary" on a dress for herself, perhaps she’s just as "practical” as everyone else? Am I just being cynical?

MILTON: I started to answer some of the questions yesterday … and keep asking when you have these thoughts.

The important thing is that many of these decisions require that you know more about the play and what the play is about. What Arthur Miller is saying. What you cannot do is look at a fact in the play (she almost got married in New York 2 years ago) and draw any conclusions without a basis in the play. You certainly can’t (as you mention) “invent plot” just because it is a possibility. You are more specifically trying to feed the play that exists.

As I mentioned in passing in class, some of these plots would lead to a completely different play. Other questions could lead you to very shaky territory. “What kind of guy in NY did she think she could get to marry her?” is a plot about a woman who went to New York to snag a husband. That is not even remotely this play. 

If you look at the facts and the timeline … and what she’s been through, you begin to get a sense of what play we’re in. Ann (and there is no indication that she had a spoiled youth. They grew up during the Depression as we discovered yesterday) woke up one morning to her father and her fiancé’s father being dragged out of the house, guilty of the murder of 21 men who were fighting a war. Not long after they were arrested, she received a letter from Larry, which laid out a scenario that, because of what his father and her father had done, he could not live with the guilt. And that he was flying a mission today and would not return. And (no doubt) that he loved her. During the second trial, because Joe Keller convinced the court that the entire fault was based on Ann’s father’s actions, [after all, he was home sick that day] … Ann’s father went to jail. And, obviously, Ann would blame her father for the death of her fiancé.

The timeline is a little shaky: The play takes place in August of 1947. Two years after the war ended. The incident with Joe Keller and Anne’s father, Steve, took place 1943-ish. Chris wrote Ann about two years ago, I’m guessing about a year after he got home from the war. Larry would have been dead for a couple of years when Chris wrote Ann.

We will continue the conversation about Chris and Anne. Obviously, you’ve hit on the center of events that make this play happen.

AMANDA: Which also brings me to….

When searching for clues, how much stock do we put into what others say about characters?

For example, later in the play “Sue” describes Ann as the “female version” of Chris, but is she? Ann only stopped speaking to her father after she was personally affected by his actions…after she learned of Larry’s death/suicide. 

MILTON: That’s actually pushing it a bit. Larry’s suicide because of what her father did would have certainly added to it, but the suicide was so close to the event, it would be difficult divide them.

And she brought the letter, and was still willing to use it. And, I realized that Sue doesn’t really know her…they only just met, and Sue says this pretty much after one conversation. 

Sue put her husband through medical school and her comment about Chris encouraging her husband to give up his medical practice and go into research is a horror to her, because they have a family. The scene between Ann and Sue is fraught with the practical, cynical side of Sue. She knows that Joe Keller is guilty and she reveals that everyone knows he pulled a fast one. The fact that Ann fights her ideas immediately tells her the kind of person Ann is. You can really know someone quickly by a confrontation.


AMANDA: People lie…to others and themselves…or may be simply mistaken...how do we sort through and work with that to get to the truth when it’s a bit ambiguous?

MILTON: You hit the nail on the head. I think all plays are very ambiguous. That’s why we have to do so much background work. Seeing how people behave in the world is how we know who they are. Much more so than what they say.

We will continue the journey!

See you in class!