Indifference is the Antithesis of Performance
When you see actors training in the Suzuki Method of Actor Training, one of the most surprising features is the calm, stoic expression on their faces as they engage in rigorous and demanding physical exercise that, if performed as exercise in a gym, would be accompanied by grunting, grimacing and grand-standing.
This calm state is an essential element of training and a fundamental aspect of the form. The calm within the chaos is the kind of crisis training found in martial arts embedding habitual physical responses when the conscious mind is overwhelmed by fear and stress. The sympathetic nervous system immediately engages in stressful situations, shutting down the prefrontal cortex - the part of the brain responsible for decision making, reasoning, socially appropriate behaviour, and other complex cognitive thinking. Having a conditioned behavioural response in these situations can counteract the usual automatic physical conditions of fight, flight or freeze, and allow access to the expressive responses the mind usually shuts down.
This stoic façade is one that is often mistaken, particularly in Western cultures, as indifference or unfeeling. In Japanese culture, great importance is placed on the concept of wa or harmony, and ensuring its balance, particularly in society. More than simply being well-mannered, social interaction is an indirect and subtle interplay of what is, and is not said in order to maintain calm, not cause offense or disturb the harmony between people. In this way wa relates to the creation of ma, or the quality of space between people, which in a densely populated country can be incredibly important. One of the ways this is reinforced is through the concepts of ‘honne’ and ‘tatemae’ or ‘honest talk’ and ‘public face’, the latter why many Westerners find difficulty in reading the less outwardly expressive Japanese. Another cultural habit is the use of silence and stillness to communicate as much as expressive action or direct speech in what is known as ‘kuuki yomenai’ or ‘reading the air’.
As well as the difficulty in translating these concepts into another language, understanding these unconscious cultural practices from a Western perspective further alienates. Superficially, Westerners see a lack of outward expression as indicative of a lack of emotion, feeling, or engagement, which is entirely untrue. The 12th century father of Noh Theatre, Zeami Motokiyo famously trained his actors to “feel ten, show two” and, rather than release the flood of emotion, dam the flow and channel its energy through the most refined action.
In Suzuki training the instinctive habit seems to be to ‘switch off’ and attempt to feel nothing, to ignore or hide from the enormity of the experience. This is a stress response akin to trying to ignore that one is on fire. Whatever the actor is feeling cannot be ignored or pushed away. It is a truth that determines the quality of the energy imbuing their performance. Closing off from this reality ensures a dull mind and body and results in a performance that is a superficial facsimile only. The actor is “doing” the exercise rather than being in the exercise.
Cultivating indifference in any form is an ego position, putting the individual in opposition to reality for fear of emotional, physical or social pain. As an actor these manifest as a greater focus on the self than on the moment, on being seen rather than being, and looking for reward rather than serving the needs of the performance.
The forms are asking the actor to ‘switch on’, to accept and embrace everything they feel. While there may be no need to externally show the difficulty and waste the energy of authentic response, denying it would mean denying creativity, which is the same as denying life. It is also observing only the most obvious qualities and not exploring the subtleties that exist beneath them. Yes, there is physical discomfort, but while this screams for the attention of the conscious mind, behind it is the depths of the actor themselves, their attitude, their spirit, and their energy. There is joy in experiencing an extreme physical state that is extraordinary, there is the complexity of the psychosomatic interface, and the beauty of artistic expression. It is the actor’s job to not only be aware of, but accept all of these aspects of themselves, for, as Meisner said, what is not accepted cannot be used. What’s more, what is not accepted becomes a block, or obstruction to performance.
The difficulty lies, of course, in the physical demands of each exercise. Remaining calm and open to creativity is incredibly difficult when you are in physical discomfort, distracted and short of breath. Our natural tendency is to close off and focus on ourselves - “I hurt”, “My thighs are burning”, “I can’t breathe!”. Rather than closing off in these crisis moments, the purpose of the exercise is to practice opening up to creativity, to the experience, to the feeling and embrace it lovingly. As the expression goes, in order to escape hell, you must open your heart in hell.
Indifference is the antithesis of performance as it means not caring, not investing, being passive and inwardly focused. Indifference is ignoring the performer’s responsibility to the performance and audience, not risking anything, not investing anything, but expecting a return. If an actor does not care, there is no hope of transformation let alone transcendence.
