JOIN USHow I turned into a raging techie
Rajinikanth is known for his self-deprecating humour. At an event to promote the Tamil film ‘Ponniyin Selvan’, he said he had a tough time working with director Mani Ratnam for ‘Thalapathi’ (1991).
“Before collaborating with Mani, I had done many macho roles. I had a stock expression for each emotion. Anger, love, happiness, sadness… I had a typical reaction to each feeling, but Mani wanted something different. He told me to feel and act. I had no clue how to do it. I scratched my head, and my scenes got Mani’s okay only after 10-15 retakes,” he reminisced.
That was reassuring. Because I have a deadpan face for all emotions. My dear ones complain I have a lack of enthusiasm towards people and events. What does one do if one is made that way? I began to see this peculiar problem in a new light four months ago, when I set out to pursue something that would shake up my personality.
As a student, I was drawn to the stage. I loved holding people’s attention with speeches. My best memories of college are from outside the campus, when I attended inter-collegiate debates, hungry for prizes. I also wrote scripts for skits.
First lessons
A decade later, here I was, trying again to experience the high of performing on stage. I had signed up for a four-month theatre workshop. My first lesson at WeMove Theatre, a theatre group in Bengaluru, was that acting was more than eloquent speaking.
In one of the early sessions, my inexpressive face became a talking point. I had to enact a scene without speaking a word. I had to express anger. My batchmates, by voting, would decide if I conveyed the emotion or not. I recreated a scene from my life, and they were convinced by my acting.
But my trainer and programme director, Vinay Dhruvakumar, said anger was an easy emotion to depict for me because of my straight face. Anger evolves and then manifests itself, and does not appear suddenly,
he explained. I had overlooked this basic principle.
The real test for me was to break my inhibitions. “Can you be a clown?” a friend and a senior theatre personality asked me when I told him about the workshop. I was far from ready for that. We had to show different ways of dying one day. I was pathetic at it. We then had to enact a proposal scene and I imitated one of my favourite actors. “Clichéd,” my director declared.
I learnt the second lesson: I had to awaken my student instincts to learn the many nuances of acting.
Voice and imagination
The voice is an essential tool for an actor. We were taught, with many exercises, to speak from the diaphragm and not from the abdomen.
“Society conditions us to speak in different tones in different situations. We don’t speak like how we do when we were children. We used our original voice back then. As we grow, we suppress its strength,” said Vinay. With time, we focussed on our voice and tried to deliver our lines better.
The focus then shifted to the imagination. An actor’s job is to make his audience believe. And in theatre, the imagination and visualisation help cut the cost of production. So, there I was, variously nursing an imaginary injured bird, sitting on an invisible camel, and selling tea in a non-existent shop.
To get a better perspective on modern-day theatre, we had to watch five plays in two months. I saw many shows, and wondered why people pursued theatre. We faced the same question in class, and I heard interesting responses like “to overcome stage fear”, “to stop being an introvert”, “to find a new purpose in life” and “to nurture acting ambitions”.
Where stars are born
From Dr Rajkumar to Darshan to character artistes like Achyuth Kumar and Rangayana Raghu, many Kannada actors come from a theatre background, said Abhishek Iyengar, theatre director, writer and co-founder, WeMove. “Even in Bollywood, actors stress on the advantages of theatre. That said, a lot of people who enter theatre with no idea about it stay back to explore it,” he said.
I showed my first signs of improvement as a performer in the much-awaited two-day session about Navarasa, the nine emotions outlined in Indian performing arts tradition. I depicted ‘veera’ (courage) by lifting an imaginary bow with pride at the Sita Swayamvara. I attempted ‘bheebatsa’ (disgust) by imagining myself stepping on cow dung. I showed ‘karuna’ (sorrow) by tearing up with thoughts of a loved one being in hospital.
Rehearsal time
Three months flew by and it was time to focus on the graduation play, written by my teammate Megha Mittal. The story revolves around people struggling to emote in the 2060s. They begin to take pills to generate emotions. What are the dangers of depending on pharmaceuticals to spur natural human responses? Our play, titled ‘Bottled Up’, tried to answer this question.
Asking questions
I was to play Raghav, a hardworking software engineer who is unfairly denied a promotion by his boss. To overcome his timid attitude, he takes the pill. However, his life takes a turn for the worse because of an overdose.
“A good actor always has questions about his or her character,” director and programme head Murali kKrish, told us. So, as discussed in the character analysis class, I sought answers about his personality: What is his body language? Is he God-fearing? What is his worst nightmare?
Going a step further, and taking references from Abhishek’s talk on screenwriting, we tried to plug all holes in the script. We questioned the intentions of the characters to make sure they did justice to the sub-conflicts and the central conflict of the play.
Turning from Vivek to Raghav was a learning experience. “Getting into a character must be like wearing your footwear,” the director said. “Initially, you try to adjust to its design, and how it makes you feel as you walk. But after a while, you just put it on and walk, in a matter-of-fact manner. That’s how comfortable you must be while portraying your character, knowing everything about it,” he explained.
Theatre aids personality development. A co-actor checked if I was staying in the character long after my scene was over. I told him, “I am just being myself.” He said I appeared despondent. This observation came right after the playwright told me that I was perfect to be cast as a dejected man. I thought I could perhaps use the feedback to enhance my professional life, and become livelier and more energetic during celebrity video interviews. Also, as a film critic, I feel more equipped to describe an actor’s performance now.
Anxiety about words
Once we finished our first full run, our director and mentors gave us feedback, and they didn’t mince their words. Our fault was that we were focusing on the narration and forgetting to emote. We weren’t ‘throwing’ our voice enough, they said, adding that our performance lacked the energy required on stage.
I had been more worried about my lines than about being Raghav. But with the new emphasis on emotions, I began to wonder if I was exaggerating my character’s helplessness. My wife, a techie herself, said I wasn’t.
The seven actors grew as a team, learning to be open to feedback from one another and being around when someone struggled to get the scenes right. It reminded me of what Tamil actor Vijay Sethupathi had said about how an actor must be patient and accommodating. “I tell my co-stars to take their time and get their act right. I don’t mind if a scene needs 100 takes,” he said. We stood around patiently for hours as our teammates practised, and sometimes even offered suggestions.
A packed Friday
It was showtime. The audience at Suchitra Cinema and Cultural Academy in Banashankari, Bengaluru, were giving us their time and money, and we couldn’t disappoint them.
When the play opened, my teammates set the bar high with performances that received applause from the packed house. My big scene was towards the end of the play. I had to ensure that it ended on a high. The onus was on me and a couple of others to not let the team down.
I did my best to show the frustration of my character through my eyes and voice, and then switched to a contrasting mood. The pill overdose turns Raghav into a man who can’t control his anger. I felt I was getting into a ‘zone’. The scene, during rehearsals, would make me sweat. But that day, I was immersed in the world of Raghav.
I let out a long sadistic laugh before increasing the intensity of my anger with my expressions. I built the tension with pauses, and used my voice and body strategically before I moved in to strangle the boss’s character. My hysterical laughter remained in my head long after the lights faded out.
I was relieved beyond words when it was all done. “It was surprising to see a soft-spoken Vivek turning into a polar opposite with conviction,” said Murali. According to Vinay, I was one of the underdogs who delivered when it mattered the most. And a techie in the audience said she could relate to my performance. “Stage energy is about taking the audience along on your journey,” Abhishek had said. I could have done better, yes. My friends wondered whether I had used a virtual screen or a typewriter in one of the scenes. Which means I had failed to think through my props.
The compliment closest to my heart came from my mother, who never shies away from speaking her mind. Standing in a line of people congratulating us, she said the play had come out well. Perhaps she had got answers to her questions about what I was doing every weekend for four months.
Parents are apprehensive about theatre. ‘Naatka geetka madak hogbeda, halag hogtiya’ (Don’t do drama and all, you will be ruined) says one of the boards in Kannada at the WeMove studio in Jayanagar, taking a dig at naysayers. One of my teammates said his friends were now interested in watching more plays. That’s how perception changes.
On that unforgettable night, as I clicked photos with my team, I had taken a baby step into theatre. And realised that acting was no joke.