Profound and Silly
8/10
This is a very good book when it comes to exposing The Method. Mamet is an excellent critic, but his theoretical aspects are a bit muddled. As a result, his advice often sounds as dogmatic as Stanislavsky's and as reductionist as Strassberg's. Lee's "Method" appropriated one of Stanislavsky's early theories, "Affective Memory," and absorbed others, perhaps unintentionally giving them secondary status. In this theory, actors recall past moving experiences and apply them to the characters they are portraying to infuse it with "truth." Interestingly, 99% of Affective Memory exercises deal with past pain, like a father's death or a sister's suicide. This leads to some rather downcast acting sessions and the rise of practicing guru-psychoanalyst-con men. It also gives birth to a new artificial convention, the dogma of REAL TEARS. Method enthusiasts like to contrast "indicating" (which is bad) with "truthfulness" (which is great), and the measure they often use is REAL TEARS. So, whether you're playing Hamlet or Felix Ungar, if the scene requires weeping, the true actor is expected to cry REAL TEARS, regardless of whether it's a classical drama or a comedy. Mamet makes fun of this lunacy and defends the importance of the play and the written word. Acting is, after all, an interpretive and secondary art to writing. Here, he is on solid ground, following Brecht's complaint that Stanislavskian actors mangled the author's work. But what advice does he offer instead? There are some "common sense" gems, like not indulging in "Funny Voices" and letting the audience teach you. However, in the end, he goes back to Stanislavsky's famous saying and advises stepping out on stage as yourself, picking a simple objective, and being brave. This is a bit silly as creating characters is not that simple. It is as reductionist as anything Lee ever came up with. Mamet's characters are not known for their warmth, perhaps due to his attitude. For a less vehement and more constructive critique, try "The End of Acting" by Richard Hornby. The wizard of uz