Stage combat has more in common with a combination of ballroom dance and stage magic than it does with any actual fighting discipline. Once an illusion is decided upon, it becomes a matter of figuring out how to best execute it within the skill level of the cast and in the time allotted. This can be as “simple” as someone being slapped and/or falling down, or as complex as a duel to the death with chainsaws. The illusion must also further the story being told and support character development. If the fight director has done their job well it should be nearly impossible to determine where the director’s work ended and where the fight director’s has begun. Melissa Hillman has written an excellent article on the hiring, care, and feeding of fight directors.

All that said, I’d like to take this opportunity to discuss why the study of stage combat is important and why acquiring some familiarity with the skills involved in portraying violence in performance should be given some priority across the various disciplines.

Safety
Safety is the biggest reason to learn stage combat. For a profession with such a badass reputation, the practitioners spend a whole lot of time and energy being concerned with the well-being of everyone involved.

Fight directors are first and foremost concerned with keeping everyone safe. This is no small job. I’ve often seen otherwise brilliant people lose their damn minds when it comes to their own safety on stage. I feel like there is an article in the news about once a year about someone getting shot onstage with a real firearm. Think for a moment about how many things need to go wrong for that to happen. I’ve often told students that “the stage is like The Matrix, if you get hurt there, you get hurt in real life too.”

Performers need to be able to identify and actively avoid situations that might lead to injury. A working knowledge of the fundamentals of stage combat is a great start. An understanding of these principles can also help them advocate for themselves in instances where they might be being asked to do something unsafe. I’ve come to believe that it borders on unethical for a performance training program to send graduates out without these basic tools.

In the past I’ve also had stage managers take my classes and workshops alongside actors. If you are not “showfolk” and don’t know what a stage manager is, they are the backbone of a production. They make sure not only that everything happens, but that it happens on time, and happens correctly. I once invited an Actor’s Equity stage manager to speak to a theater appreciation class I was teaching and explain what they do. Near the end of the talk one of the students said, “so we clap for the actors, should we bow down to you?” A good stage manager has among their primary concerns that no one gets hurt on their watch.

I’ve heard it said by some of the people who’ve trained me that it’s often the simplest techniques that have the highest risk of injury. If you are dueling to the death with chainsaws, you respect the chainsaw and go through all the necessary safety procedures. But if the scene needs someone to be slapped and/or fall down, performers will sometimes think that “they can take it.” “Taking it” might land a performer in a hospital.

Narrative Clarity
Few disciplines within theater enjoy the clarity of dramatic conflict and narrative transparency that fight directors have as a matter of course.

Any specific technique should be able to communicate a storyline (or a piece of one). If one character is striking another and they fall down, the audience should be able to follow the action of what is happening from beginning to end. That is to say, from several seconds before the blow lands until after the victim hits the floor. In a longer sequence, such as a duel for instance, each moment is a piece of narrative action. One character feinting a cut to the head, disengaging their blade after drawing a parry, and then executing a blow that is barely dodged might take less time to perform onstage than it did to read, but involves an entire series of narrative actions with the conflict being clear throughout. If there is a reversal (in the Aristotelian sense), that aspect of the storyline is generally extremely clear.

Actor training is often about having clear objectives and understanding dramatic conflict. Characters in violent conflict are among the most direct manifestations of clear objectives and conflict.

This narrative clarity is extraordinarily useful for directors, designers, playwrights, and dramaturgs. When Romeo is trying to kill Tybalt, there is little ambiguity about what the characters want, but there is no limit to how those wants might be played out.

Understanding of Illusion
While according to some scholars, we live in one of the least violent periods of history, Lt. Colonel David Grossman observed in his book, On Killing: The Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society, that the majority of those who purport to study violence do so “in a world of virgins studying sex.” The overwhelming majority of any violence that anyone reading this is likely to see probably happens in the context of its portrayal in an entertainment medium, either in a context where it was composed by someone like myself, or in the context of athletic competition. Since we see so little actual violence (a good thing, I would say), a basic understanding of how the popular illusions of violence are created is useful. I would argue that an understanding of the illusions would lead us to enjoy them more, the same way that an understanding of music leads to a greater appreciation of the same.

Also, there is much to be said for having a better grasp of how specific genres of illusions are created when engaging in creating a larger illusion yourself. This is true for nonactors as well. The understanding of illusion also relates to an appreciation for narrative clarity. If one understands intellectually that a stage punch is not a real punch, that the scene in which a duel took place was a cooperative venture, and that it was composed with safety, narrative, and sightlines in mind, then the overall appreciation of the larger production can only increase.

Collaborative Synergy
At their best, composition of fight scenes involves a unified effort between the fight director, the director, the performers, designers, and technicians.

I had a great experience that was illustrative of this synergy while choreographing a scene for Aunt Dan and Lemon with Whistler in the Dark last season. The illusion for a pivotal scene involved interfacing the costume design with the set design in order for movement to be created that told the story in the script. There is a scene in the play in which a man is drugged and tied to a bed in a spread-eagled position, and then strangled with a pair of stockings by a woman who stands over him. As the man’s hands are unavailable to engage in the basic safeguards of a stage choke if the stage directions are followed, another solution must be found.

In this case, there was a piece of cloth of identical color and texture secured to the headboard of the bed. As the stockings used to choke the character are being placed on the actor’s throat, the actress reaches underneath and grabs the cloth attached to the bed, bringing it up on either side of the actor’s head, with no pressure whatsoever being brought to bear on the actor playing the man’s throat. As the character is choked, the actor played out the stages of asphyxiation from a place of complete physical safety.

On a very practical level, whatever your discipline within theater or film, understanding the basics of your collaborator’s discipline will speed up communication and deepen the process (I’m speaking broadly here as this is true of all the disciplines in theater). Specifically in regard to combat and performers, if you’re an actor, you’ll be able to learn more complex choreography more quickly, expanding the options available for the final product.

Broadening of Dramaturgical and Textual Analysis
“They Fight” is a great stage direction. And in many classics involves a lot of context. By broadening the understanding of violence on stage, we can understand how and why it might happen in dramatic literature.

Characters are always in pursuit of their wants. In Stanislavskian terms, actors pursue character objectives. To paraphrase military theorist Carl von Clausewitz, stage combat is the pursuit of objective by other means. By way of example, in Satre’s No Exit, Estelle wants Inez out of the room. At one point, she begins to physically remove her from the space, and would succeed if Garcin did not convince her to change her course of action. A similar scene takes place in Burn This by Lanford Wilson when Burton wants Pale out of Anna’s apartment, and that scene then escalates dramatically. Niether of these plays are known for their fight scenes to the degree of say, Romeo and Juliet or Killer Joe, but in all of these examples characters apply physical force in pursuit of their objectives.

Stage combat is an aspect of modern theater that really doesn’t get the attention it deserves. We can start to give it that attention by learning the basics of how it’s done, and then taking that knowledge to other areas.

Note: This article was modified from a blog post on MeronLangsner.com

– See more at: http://howlround.com/why-everyone-should-study-stage-combat#sthash.CVejAfOx.dpuf

You’ll Be Safer Onstage

There is a common saying in stage combat circles when comparing the wrong way to do something with the right way: “Hospital. No hospital.” Your body is your instrument, and stage combat training teaches you how to keep it in one piece. You will also learn when and how to advocate for yourself if you feel that you’re being asked to take an unnecessary risk. An actor who is assured of his or her own safety in a physical scene is one who is free to create as an artist—and far less likely to have an understudy take over because of an injury. Remember: No pain…no pain.

You’ll Be Better at Performing Fight Scenes

This point might seem obvious, but it covers more scenes than you might realize. “Fight scenes” don’t just mean the climactic battles (as awesome as those are). Pivotal slap in the face during an intense drama? You’ll own that moment. Dying of a heart attack? Audience in the palm of your hand. Comic slip on a banana peel? They’ll be laughing all the way down. And if there’s a climactic duel, you’ll be better able to handle more elaborate choreography, making the most of your rehearsal time and having a far better fight than without training.

Better Overall Physical Storytelling

Stage combat is a genre of physical theater designed to articulate a clear narrative of character conflict. Practicing physical storytelling where conflict and objective are clear and up-front will only help your physical expression in any other scene. We’re in the business of telling stories. Practicing the narrative clarity of a good fight scene will carry over into your other work. When every move in a scene is a potential matter of life or death for your character, that intensity and attention to detail will infuse all of your acting technique. Which brings us to…

Significant Practice in Very High Stakes Acting

A duel with broadswords will have you portraying life-or-death situations. The stakes are not often higher than that. Training in how to get to that extreme safely and effectively will help increase your emotional range as a performer in any medium in which you find yourself performing.

Overall Physical Fitness

Acting can be hard work. The fitter you are, the better able you will be to face the demands of a role or an audition.

Deepen Your Ability to Analyze a Scene

Understanding why and how characters engage in physical violence gives us opportunities to apply dramaturgical thought in a pragmatic setting (I call this fightaturgy). What would cause your character to cross the line and assault someone? How would your character react to that kind of violation? How will that incident inform other interactions? In what cultural context does the play take place, and does that dictate how the violence will take place at all?

Stage combat is an element of theater and film wherein so many other elements combine, and yet it’s often relegated to “supplemental” training. Many performers find that getting trained in this facet of acting will yield dividends in every aspect of their lives as theater artists.

Meron Langsner

I believe the best way to understand and implement this theory is to investigate the scriptures to get a better understanding of what this means through a Christian perspective. The basic idea behind Phenomenological acting theory centers on self, and identity. As said in the above paragraph the actors self and identity is wrapped up in the actor’s own individual experience. I typically start my classes out by saying that God has created us. You are unique there has never been anyone like you and never will be.  If, as the phnemonolisys contend that truth only come out of our experience then our experience with the God of truth brings out a fuller understanding of Character. Also, Our experiences can be used to influence and help of connect to the charters dialogue whether or not we fully understand what the charter has gone through. For example, I do this exercise which ‘I call transference in which the students bring in an object that has great sentimental value to them. They then bring in the object and tell the story behind it: why this earns something to them, how did they get this object, how this object affects them. Once every student performed this piece the students then pull out there monologue, from a play), which they have been working on for a week and perform the monologue, but now with the image of the object or experience of the object in mind.  This exercise enables students to turn their own God given uniqueness and experiences into another character. Lots of students bring in their own religious artifacts or objects in which talk about their relationship with Christ and then use that relationship and memory of their conversion to pull them through a page of text with their monologue. The product of this exercise is amazing students connect with their piece with stronger emotions and understand the relationship better after using this technique.

Another idea expressed by the phenomenologists that I use in my Christian worldview is the idea of understanding your true self and the true self of the character. While the prior contend that the idea of self is not consent on what one thinks, speaks or determined by human nature but is a negotiated between society and hegemonic political views on the person’s race, and gender (Eastope 67); however, I would argue that the concept of self was long before Cartesian history based upon the ideas of King Solomon which he wrote in Proverbs, “ For as he thinks within himself, so he is”. With the ideas of Solomon in mind it becomes paramount for the students to understand who they are not just based on what others say they are but how they see themselves, and how God sees themselves. In order for me to use this method in the class, I try to get my students to se how God views them. I tell them to search in the scriptures to se what the Bible has to say about them.

A revolution has occurred in the world of acting theory. Over the past twenty years numerous scholarly studies emerged to make use of a wide variety of critical methodologies including Phenomenology, Derridean deconstruction, cultural, contextual, intellectual and psychological acting theories in order to train and describe the process of acting to burgeoning students. Within the above-mentioned ideologies of acting theory, there seems a consensus on how these “new” theories approach the actor’s cultural context, body-mind connection, and the idea of the actor’s connection with the character. Despite the seemingly novel elements that each theory claims to treat each of these areas, there is a richness and apparent grounding in biblical thought and approach to each of these new acting theories.

This paper will examine how some of these new acting theories reflect sound Christian theology.

Stage Combat Training

What does it mean to be an artist?

I’ve been asking myself this question, in various forms, for most of my life. It’s a question that bears repetition because there are so many possible answers, and my own personal answer sometimes changes. When I first began creating, the question wasn’t clearly formulated and the answer was simple: Joy! As I grew older and awareness of economic realities intruded, the questions became How can I be an artist? and Should I even try?

For a year or two, I chose not to be an artist. Oh, I still dabbled in this and that, but I wasn’t wholly or even halfheartedly invested. It was a dark and boring time.

When I recommitted myself, I felt such a deep sense of relief. I was spending my time the way I was supposed to again. I was focusing on what was important again.

Perhaps that relief, that sense of purpose, is part of what it means to be an artist.

We can judge our artistic success on so many levels:

1. Financial: how much money we make, can we make a living as an artist
2. Recognition/acclaim: receiving opportunities, reviews, awards
3. Size of audience: how many people experience what we are doing
4. Growth as an artist: how we are improving and/or taking risks as an artist
5. Producing a piece or performance that works the way we wished it to

But perhaps being an artist doesn’t have so much to do with traditional success. Some of the most lauded artists labored in obscurity in their lifetimes. Many famous writers self published their own work. Vincent Van Gogh, Jane Austen, Emily Dickinson, Jan Vermeer, Franz Schubert, Henry David Thoreau.

If money and fame are of less importance, then what does it mean to be an artist? It means we create. It means we dream. It means we explore the fundamental question of what it means to be human: what it means to be conscious, what it means to experience emotions because of a painting or a symphony or a poem or a novel, what it means to have the capability for empathy. The exploration is inherently of value, regardless of the outcomes.

Stephen King said, “Life isn’t a support system for art. It’s the other way around.” Art supports life; it creates meaning, some semblance of order created from the complications of existence. It takes us outside of ourselves and pushes us more deeply inside of ourselves. It raises as many questions as it provides answers.

Being an artist, then, is about more than a job or a career. Being an artist becomes a state of mind. 

And the seven-year-old me was right after all. What else does it mean to be an artist? Joy!

—-Amy Sandburg