Proceso del pensamiento en el envejecimiento

Mitchell’s strategies of actor immersion resulted in highly detailed work, but as her

comments to Maria Shevtsova regarding Three Sisters made clear, the director still found

it challenging to shape a focused narrative out of Chekhov’s writing in places: “There are sections of Act Three, which I think are weak. I do not know what some of the characters are playing. I have no idea why Irina has incredibly long speeches in that room, at that time, to those people. Sections of Act Four feel expositional” (Shevtsova 2006: 16). In Mitchell’s production everything played out in an unhurried fashion. The actors remained immersed in a reality, but for the director, some of the clarity of the play was lost by a production that took too long.

Three Sisters ran at three hours and twenty minutes, resulting from Mitchell’s insistence on letting dramatic time play out in real time, and exacerbated by frequent slow-motion sequences that interspersed the action to highlight significant events. For Dan Rebellato, its length “brought the production into the realm of durational performance” (2010: 330), which suggests that Mitchell’s approach took its cue from Chekhov’s striking Act 1 stage direction in which Fedotik presents Irina with a spinning top as a birthday gift, and “sets it going. It spins and hums. Everyone watches and listens till it stops” (2003 [1901]: 23). Structured around the duration of an object set in motion and left to come to a natural stop, this concentrated moment of attention forced the pace of the reaction in the actor to be mirrored by that of the audience, inviting all parties to share the same space and time. Mitchell even created other such effects, seizing on the three photographs that Chekhov stipulates being taken in Act 1 by Fedotik and Rode as additional opportunities to extend time around an object, in this case one engaged in a mechanical act of perception. The following research document was preserved by the NT archive:

Hand cameras using roll film were in use by 1901 but for a formal group portrait a large format wooden, bellows camera on a tripod would have been used. […] The exposure would depend upon the lighting. Outdoors in shade perhaps a second or so. Indoors near a window two or three seconds maybe. They had rapid plates by then but it might be difficult to light a group evenly indoors.

Mitchell’s rigorous research culture caused two of Chekhov’s stage directions to expand into suspended moments in the production’s dramatic time. Erecting the tripod, positioning the bellows camera, and inserting a plate, Thomas Arnold (Fedotik) then used hand signals to communicate to Irina’s party guests (and to the DSM watching from the box so that she could cue dips in lighting) how long they were to remain still as

the plate was exposed. The company, arranged in a group pose, held their position for a full 20 seconds on the archive recording, pushing duration well beyond a realist fidelity

to the two or three seconds mentioned in the research.53

Durational performance can be seen as a strategy for granting spectators access to the mental states of the characters, enveloping stage and auditorium in expansive moments of real time, as opposed to condensing, focusing and narrating events in

dramatic time. However, as Mitchell’s comments have revealed, she thought her Three

Sisters suffered from a lack of shaping, and she advised young directors to avoid the kind of “levelling-out” (2009: 61) that durational performance implies. Thus, across her work on Chekhov, Mitchell has been monitoring the cognitive capacity of her audience, and making adjustments to better guide them into the play’s Idea Structure, which is literally

reflected in the running times. The four acts of Three Sisters all came in at around 45

minutes; by the time Mitchell staged The Seagull they averaged half an hour.54

Finding that it wasn’t sufficient to get actors and spectators to share time,

Mitchell used slow-motion sequences as a tool of special emphasis throughout Three

Sisters, generating moments-out-of-time triggered by characters attending to significant phenomena in the script. When Angus Wright (Kulygin) noticed that the grandfather clock was running seven minutes fast, he adjusted it using his pocket watch. When the sisters and guests turned to hear violin music suddenly invading the room from an offstage location, as if responding to a hypnosis command they began moving towards its source in extreme slow motion – a surreal sequence broken, and explained, by Masha’s line “That’s our brother Andrey playing” (2003 [1901]: 13).

53 _{Mitchell added a fourth photo opportunity, right at the end of Act 1. Instead of two officers}

entering and catching Andrey and Natasha kissing, as Chekhov’s directions stipulate, Mitchell had Fedotik and Rode creep downstage and literally “expose” this moment in a quickly captured photograph supplemented by a powerful blast of flash powder to punctuate the end of the act. This interest in the apparatus of early photography anticipates Mitchell’s Live Cinema work – see

Chapter 3 for a discussion of how the technique can be productively viewed as animated early

photography rather than cinema.

54 _{Although Three Sisters is Chekhov’s longest play, this is not sufficient to account for the}

significant tightening that Mitchell achieved in The Seagull. Three Sisters had a running time of 3

hours and 20 minutes (including interval), and The Seagull 2 hours 30 (including interval). When

Mitchell directed The Cherry Orchard in 2014, she removed the interval itself, playing the

Such sequences allowed Mitchell to share an aspect of her work on objects discussed in the last section more publicly. They served to underline heightened moments of consciousness, stimulated by directions in Chekhov’s script, but carefully focalised using Mitchell’s stage techniques. They therefore anticipate her Live Cinema work, where the subjective perception of time is given formal shape using cinematic techniques. Indeed, Maddy Costa (2003) framed her criticism of the production in filmic terms: “The careful beauty [of Mitchell’s composition] leaves the audience feeling distanced from the action. It is as though we, like Fedotik, are watching the Prozorov family through a camera lens.” Although Costa experienced Mitchell’s techniques as a barrier to access, the director was in fact seeking to open up the play.

Mitchell sees plays as containing “between three and four major ideas”, which “the writer focused on whilst writing the play – either consciously or unconsciously” (2009: 47). Every character must relate to a Major Idea in some way, and “large chunks of the action must be concerned with investigating this idea” (ibid: 47). Although the assumptions underpinning this methodology will be interrogated later, it led her to

identify – non-controversially in this instance – that one of Three Sisters’ major ideas is

“time passing” (McDevitt 2003: 9). Slow-motion offered Mitchell one means of connecting a network of significant moments and stage directions in the script, rendering sensible to the audience what her analysis had revealed. However, her treatment of the “spinning top” sequence demonstrates a number of other tools that she increasingly came to use in intensifying audience as well as actor focus on moments of performance that materialised the play’s Idea Structure.

As Fedotik set the top spinning, the lighting was subtly recalibrated, so that the ambient light slowly dimmed and the daylight flooding in through the set’s rear windows was lost; an amplified, ethereal humming effect was layered into Gareth Fry’s soundscape, lending the spinning top an almost mystical resonance; and the sound effect of the ticking grandfather clock was imperceptibly teased into the foreground (it ran throughout the act, its volume carefully modulated – as the frequent sound cues in the

DSM promptbook indicate). Any sequence in Three Sisters featuring these delicate alterations had a designated endpoint (in this case Masha’s line “tied up with a golden chain”; in another, the sound effect of a distant dog barking) that alerted actors and DSM to the return to “clock time” and the requisite adjustments in states. In the service of the Idea Structure, Mitchell, with her sound and lighting designers, was developing subliminal means of working on audience perception. Sound cues in the DSM prompt script include “Knock on pipes”, “tonal”, “camera foley” and “tonal build”, demonstrating Fry’s sampling of diegetic and abstract elements to enhance the work with actors. In another stark contrast with Stanislavsky, having studied the ways in which cinema uses these elements to sharpen changes in atmosphere and psychological conditions, Mitchell increasingly came to use sound and lighting to heighten the nature

of the audience experience rather than simply as representational tools.55

As well as these technical tools, Mitchell’s work on Given Circumstances shaped

audience attention. As in The Seagull, she engineered a sense of pressurised time during

Act 1 of Three Sisters. In rehearsal note 11, the DSM describes the Given Circumstances

agreed upon by the cast: “It’s 12pm and [Irina’s birthday party] is due to start at 12.15. The table is not yet laid and flowers are laid on it waiting to be arranged. The maid and Anfisa are hurrying around trying to lay the tables. This action takes place before the dialogue starts.” In performance, this action continued during Olga’s opening speech, and its interruption served to highlight the first symbolic incursion that upset the naturalistic balance of Mitchell’s staging.

Olga begins the play by remembering the death of their father, “A year ago, one year to the day, it was the fifth of May, your birthday Irina” (2003 [1901]: 3). When she pulls her focus out of the past to address her sister, standing before her dressed in white,

55 _{Mitchell’s approach to sound design is heavily influenced by her study of Russian cinema.}

Responding to Maria Shevtsova’s interest in the soundscore created for her production of Iphigenia

at Aulis, she explained: “That’s [Elem] Klimov!” (Shevtsova 2006: 13). See also Mitchell (2009:

86): “Klimov used sound in his film Come and See [1985] to communicate what it is like to be inside

the head of someone who has just had his eardrums blown out. Another Russian film maker, Andrei Tarkovsky, used complex aural patterns to communicate how memories lodge themselves

in the brain.” Mitchell introduced a special screening of Come and See at London’s BFI on 29 April

Chekhov stipulates that the grandfather clock strikes twelve – an aural cue that drives Olga back inside her memories. In Mitchell’s production, the lights darkened and a strong gust of wind invaded through an open window, causing the curtains to billow and knocking down a vase that smashed as it hit the floor. An almost imperceptible drone accompanied this elemental disturbance. After the vase broke, the stillness that followed was intensified because of the constant bustle it interrupted. The maid and Anfisa, together with the sisters, turned and stared at the window, its curtains still dancing in the breeze. Indeed, they remained held in this freeze through the rest of Olga’s speech, as the clock prompted her to recall more details of her father’s funeral. It was only when Irina reasserted the present moment (“Why go on and on about the past?” (ibid: 3)) that the servants broke from their freeze, swept up the shattered ceramic, and returned to their party preparations.

Rachel Halliburton (2003) perceived, in what she called this “distinctly supernatural moment”, a visceral theatricalisation of how “the past invades the present as [the father’s] memory is felt as strongly as any evocations of Hamlet’s father’s ghost”, demonstrating the efficacy of Mitchell’s techniques. Whilst props, lighting states, and abstract sound design helped Mitchell create a moment of intensity, its success also rested on her careful attention to the actor’s rhythm. The maids’ engagement with the Given Circumstances of the scene, and the way this “supernatural moment” interrupted their activity, allowed Mitchell to pull every character onstage – as well as her audience – into a relationship with a significant thematic moment, rendering Mitchell’s understanding of the play’s Idea Structure tangible.

This analysis reveals in miniature a technique that would dominate Mitchell’s

work on The Seagull – her use of Main Events to focus each act. Whereas she sensed that

sections of her Three Sisters succumbed to the snowstorm tendency, by the time she

rehearsed The Seagull she had come to see her role as playing the text like an instrument,

solving the problem of Chekhov’s multivalent textuality through more rigorously- pursued analytical procedures – procedures that shaped his text for performance in ways

which were, she believed, more compatible with the cognitive and attention capacities of

her audience. Whilst Mitchell had used Main Events in Three Sisters, the choices she

made to support her textual analysis in the case of The Seagull were far bolder, prioritising

the substructure Mitchell and her company had discerned over the script’s own stipulations.

Staging The Seagull’s second act, Mitchell changed the location. In prising apart

the play, reformulating it as lists, working on character relationships, and diagnosing Events and Intentions, Mitchell was led towards relocating the scene, radically complicating traditional notions of what constitutes “fidelity to text”. Main Events are, for Mitchell, the structural pivots of each act, and she identifies them by analysing which, out of all of the act’s incidents, is of a significant magnitude to affect every character

onstage. The care Mitchell takes over this process is carried through into her delicate

phrasing, designed to make the event resonate with the ensemble rather than the individual. “Konstantin stops the performance” was one of a sequence of events that her

analysis had identified in Act 1 of The Seagull (Mitchell 2009: 61). However, when she

had settled on it as the Main Event, Mitchell re-worded it for the purposes of ensemble

playing: it became “The cancellation of the play”. She writes: “By rephrasing the [main] event so that it starts with a noun rather than a character’s name, everyone can have a relationship to what you are describing. [. . .] The event only works if all the characters play it fully and clearly” (ibid: 60-61).

Focusing Act 2 of The Seagull around the Main Event of “The refusal of the

horses” (ibid: 60), Mitchell’s production made use of exactly the same technique of

interrupted domestic activity as had structured the opening beat of her Three Sisters,

although on a much larger scale. She organised the scene around an interrupted lunch (documented in a rehearsal note as “sliced tomatoes, caviar, pickled herring, pickled cucumber, bread, butter, fresh cucumber soup”), and showed maids preparing the long dining room table, supervised by Polina, in the background of the act’s opening sequence. Although Chekhov had set his scene on the croquet lawn outside, Mitchell’s

need to focus the Main Event and draw everybody into its orbit led her to devise the act

around “the interruption of lunch”.56 _{Although ostensibly an act of directorial}

usurpation, this decision was designed to emphasise, rather than alter, the action that Chekhov had scripted. As Martin Crimp wrote in his note on the new version, restoring the scene to the croquet lawn “needs no change to the spoken text” (Chekhov 2006 [1896]: 67).

After the characters, following Chekhov’s arrangement, continued to assemble in the dining room, Mitchell followed the arrival of Shamrayev with Yakov and a maid serving lunch to the seated household. Just after the first course was underway, Chekhov’s dramatisation of the flare-up between Arkadina and Shamrayev, triggered by his refusal of the carriage horses for her planned trip into town, sent characters reeling out of the room in all directions, abandoning their untouched bowls of soup. This left the dining room empty for the series of exchanges (between Nina and Trigorin, Nina and Konstantin) that followed in this event’s wake. However, Mitchell’s use of the lunch as a structural device had also brought every character in the play – even the silent maid – into a legible, physical and psychological relationship with the Main Event. In addition, she complimented Arkadina’s about-turn (after calming down, she retracts her impulsive threat of immediately leaving the estate) by letting the act run on beyond Chekhov’s designated endpoint, showing the guests reassembling in the dining room to continue lunch and therefore re-setting the situation.

The director’s rules about Main Events affecting everybody onstage may sound arbitrary, but they offer a focused response to Chekhov’s significant challenge to practitioners – the fact that there are no central characters. When staging a play about 14 or 15 people – each of whom Mitchell situates in the complex constellation of relationships and Given Circumstances – Ideas and Events provide focal points that release rich layers of character work. Chekhov often positions many more characters on his stage than the number speaking. In the case of Shamrayev’s refusal of the horses, he

ensures that there are seven bodies present (in Mitchell’s staging there were ten). As the director states, her approach militates against “the actor who is in a room of ten people and who only plays one relationship, as opposed to ten. You have to play ten. It’s more stimulating” (Shevtsova 2006: 15).

Another comparison with Stanislavsky helps to reveal the effects and

implications of Mitchell’s analytical approach to Chekhov’s text. Stanislavsky’s doom

laden mise-en-scène for the final exchange between Konstantin and Nina in The Seagull –

underscored by the “howling of wind and noise of rain louder than ever”; the “distant tolling of a church bell (as in Act I during the performance of Konstantin’s play)”; the slamming French door “(a pane breaks, so powerfully did the wind slam it)”; the “knocking of night-watchman”; loud bursts of laughter from offstage; Konstantin dropping the glass he held (Innes 2000: 150) – put the melodramatic focus of the act squarely on the lead-up to Konstantin’s suicide. It privileged the storyline of one

character over and above the ensemble that Chekhov weaves together.57 _{But Mitchell}

diagnosed Act 4’s Main Event as “The arrival of Trigorin with Arkadina from the

station” (2009: 60). Even in the exchange between Nina and Konstantin, Hattie

Morahan (Nina) played a strong awareness of Trigorin and Arkadina in the other room (which the dialogue clearly supports). Mitchell’s direction ensured that her actors were still playing their relationships with other characters, even when those characters were out of the room.

The end of Act 4 also reveals how Mitchell often orchestrates moments of performance at the tail end of an act to materialise the weave of Chekhov’s dramaturgy.