The Art of Chemistry
When people think of chemistry, they normally think of a boy and a girl together that somehow just seem to match. There are those in the audience that say it about two actors. "Great chemistry." But what does that mean, "great chemistry"? They work well together, sure, but why? Why do some actors seem to just match on stage and others just, you know, don't?
I really didn't know until last night's rehearsal, where Alane, the director, decided she wanted to work on it. Chemistry. So she switched up the casts, and I started with the "other Emma" and vice versa. She put us to work and we did our best and it was really good. She then switched us back, and it was even better. And I still didn't really know why.
But then she said something about it. She said, "this works because you were listening and responding to what you hear, not about what you think you have to do next."
And with that, she defined chemistry. Not just for the stage. But for every interaction we have with another human being ever.
If I think of the most successful couples, whether on stage or not, they all have one thing in common - they listen to each other. I mean really listen. Not just to the words, but to the tone of voice, the look in her eyes, the rhythm and speed of her speech to know the subtext of the conversation. That subtext creates depth and layers. By being in the moment like that, actors are able to keep the same lines in the same scenes in the same show fresh and interesting, not just for the audience but for each other.
In fact, here's an example of no chemistry. I saw Les Mis at Tuacahn last weekend, which was an interesting event, but my favorite role in the show, generally, is Enjolras, the charismatic and powerful leader of the revolution. Normally, it's cast with a singer with a deep, powerhouse baritone that shakes the legs of your seat when he sings "Red and Black." In this performance, he was a tenor, which would have been fine if it wasn't for the fact that every other male lead was also a tenor. But to make matters worse, and I don't know if this was the norm or the exception, he was completely disinterested in what was going on in the story. He was running through his lines and his music like it was a bother. His demeanor was lethargic, the look on his face was...I don't know, somewhere other than the French Revolution. I don't know what happened earlier in the day, very possible that it was completely understandable why he performed without performing. All I'm saying is he was not in the moment with the rest of his cast.
So, not only did I learn the blocking, the lines, the music, and queues, I learned why it is that my wife and I have "matched" for so long, we've mastered the art of chemistry without even trying. If I can use that half as well in the show, well, the audience is in for a heck of a treat!




What do you see?