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p So far we have been dealing with the
director’s work on a production. There is also another important side to his job-training the company.

p Ideally, the creation of a company is the creation of a team of people who share the same artistic views. But today it involves tremendous problems, since we are dealing not only with a motley assortment of diverse personalities (which can be perfectly alright) but with people who have had a vastly different training as regards artistic views and methods. We generally divide them into the gifted, the not-so-gifted, and the ham. This is our only criterion for selecting actors. But it is quite insufficient.

p There are gifted actors who have been “crippled” by their previous experience, and also less gifted actors who have mastered a correct method, so that the abovementioned criterion is wholly inadequate.

p We talk a great deal, but to little or no avail, about the organisational forms of the theatre. Not such forms in general, but the ones that fetter the artistic life of a company. Take “standard” staff, for instance. It is quite unnatural for anything in art to be “standard”. It would be inestimably more natural for the number of actors, the presence or absence of an orchestra, the number of directors and designers or of 275 new productions, to be determined according to the artistic credo of a given theatre, the artistic personality of the person who heads the theatre company, rather than on the basis of general principles applied to all theatres indiscriminately. I hold that no effort must be spared to ensure that theatres become live artistic bodies. This, I am convinced, should be our goal. All kinds of “standardisation” tend to make the work of theatre managers easier, and this often results in the theatre being tedious and uninspired.

p We often hold forth on the need to adopt high principles in the matter of forming a theatre company, and yet I cannot think of a single theatre where these principles are applied in practice-for instance, in competitive tests.

p This is an extremely important and progressive method, but it cannot be said on the whole to have fulfilled the hopes and expectations placed in it. Today, competitions have become in most theatres simply a means of getting rid of unwanted actors. This is essential for the vitality of the company, but it is wrong to reduce the competitive system to its mere organisational aspects.

p If approached from a correct artistic standpoint, competitions can be a way of ensuring the formation of a company whose members share the same creative views, the same methods and principles. This should be their main purpose.

p But many actors and directors have never given a moment’s thought to this vital question of common views. How often do we see an actor going over to another theatre for the simple reason that he wants to work under the guidance of a particular director he admires and to whom he feels spiritually akin? So rarely that it constitutes the exception to the rule rather than the basic principle underlying relationships in the theatre which it ought to be.

p We know that a theatre cannot exist without new blood, without replacements. The trouble is that it sometimes becomes perfectly clear that a person has chosen the wrong profession long before retirement age, when it is too early for them to retire on a pension and too late for them requalify for another profession. The whole problem is thus to find a sensible solution on a state scale that would involve the least amount of human losses. The mistake was committed long ago when the permanent companies were formed, for the simple reason that the opportunity to adopt a correct creative approach was let slip at the initial, formative stage.

p This means that a gradual process of reform is now necessary, a search for organisational forms conducive to the assembling of actors and other stage workers with common views under the guidance of n stage-director with whose creative aims they sympathise.

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p In this respect the Gorky Theatre in Leningrad only recently epitomised the general situation obtaining in the Soviet theatre.

p When I came to the theatre, the company consisted of 79 members including a motley assortment of 22 actors whose only reason for being there was the ability to act, irrespective of what and how. Since the situation was such an extreme one, we managed to obtain a reshuffle such as no Soviet theatre had seen for a long time. During a singleseason 38 people, or practically half the company, left the theatre, new people came, so that we were left with only twenty per cent of the original company, all the rest being newcomers.

p I am not suggesting that this is that high principle to which alt theatres should adhere. It was simply a practical necessity in this case, without which work could not possibly have continued properly. Only now, at this new stage, do we intend to hold competitions with a view to dismissing not bad actors, but actors who do not share our artistic views. After a comparatively short period of collaboration we are in no position to say to a person: “You’re a fine actor, but you’re not one of us.” That would be premature. Some time must pass before this becomes obvious, before we have the moral and artistic right to make such decisions.

p But forming a company is only one aspect of the matter: there is also the question of training it. How ought we best to proceed?

p Since a theatre is neither an actors’ studio nor a drama school, the main thing is rehearsals. It is necessary to be so exacting at every single rehearsal that everyone feels a sense of challenge, feels that the ideal has still to be achieved. Although the members of our company were all highly intelligent and cultured people, and although they all aspired towards the same artistic goals, great confusion reigned when it came to questions of method. Many of our actors graduated from Moscow and Leningrad drama schools and colleges in the same period, and yet they spoke a completely different language as regards terminology and the fundamentals of acting method.

p We therefore decided to hold “creative Wednesdays”, special study sessions where the main purpose was to establish a common language. Such apparently clear, unambiguous terms as “objective”, and “through action” even were understood quite differently by different actors. So we decided to make a bold new start-from scratch.

p The whole company attends these sessions and we discuss basic theatrical issues, questions of a “common language”, of creative aims and ethics. We endeavour to discuss all matters in an impartial but frank, sincere manner, without any reservations.

p This is an extremely useful practice as regards training the company, providing opportunities for discussion of a performance, of factors 277 obstructing progress at rehearsals, such matters as egoism on the part of an actor in his relationship with his partner, and so on. We endeavour to determine the positive and negative factors in our work, our real achievements, and what is holding us back. We sum up our activities over the past week. These meetings provide a moral and professional forum where we make an honest effort to learn-which is an essential condition for any real team of artists.

p It is most important, for example, to analyse audience success in the case of a production with which we ourselves are not really satisfied, with a view to distinguishing between real and false success. This is a difficult task, but one without which we can make no headway in our work.

p It is important to analyse a rehearsal, to understand, for example, why today’s rehearsal was a failure artistically, or why it was better than yesterday’s, to understand the essence of the creative processes. We are wont to pass over all these things in embarrassed silence, or only talk about them in a gloomy, matter-of-fact manner, rather than in the lively tone and the detail that genuine art requires.

p The company must learn not to be influenced by favourable reviews. It is very pleasant to learn that one’s work has been appreciated, but we should not allow success to go to our head, and “in the family”, as it were, we must take a more sober view of things. When the actress N. was praised to the skies, we told her, “Don’t be too flattered by the praise. Carry on working on the part. What you have shown to date is by no means first class.” But when she was severely criticised we gave her our full support, and told her that despite certain defects she was on the right track.

p Things like this are tremendously important to an actor’s development. It is essential to strike a balance between not letting success go to his head and making sure he does not lose faith in himself.

In this sense one of the worst things of all is to train a company in the spirit of satisfaction with their achievements and refusal to rest on their laurels. It is the job of the head of the company to ensure a healthy spirit of dissatisfaction, so that despite public accolade the company is constantly aware of still having a long way to go. For this, the head of the company needs to overcome in himself any feeling of complacency and learn to accept criticism from the actors without regarding it as a personal affront. I know this is not always easy, but it is absolutely essential. His authority does not depend on an atmosphere of adulation, on an “alleluia chorus” sung by the company, for this is not conducive to the artistic development of either the director or the actors. One must be constantly prepared to face new difficulties and overcome them.

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p A theatre must wage a continual struggle for its own principles, but the unity of the company on the basis of these principles must not be allowed to lead them to turn a blind eye on their own defects. Unity of artistic views does not mean an amnesty for one another’s weaknesses. There is nothing easier than launching a combined attack on others, but the important thing is to learn to speak the truth to one another within the team.

p The actor must on no account be allowed to fear criticism, to feel that strong criticism of his performance in a particular instance places him in conflict with the director. On the contrary, he must always feel free to speak frankly about achievements and failures, provided he does so from an honest, sincere standpoint.

p Frankness and a highly-principled attitude will never undermine the unity of the company as some directors seem to fear. On the contrary, they promote team unity.

p Every member of the company must be encouraged to feel personally responsible for every production. We are often ardent supporters of a production from an egoistic point of view rather than in the interests of the whole company. An actor who is not working in a particular production or has not been given the role he wanted, the role he felt was “his by right” tends to occupy a neutral standpoint at best; at worst he may be an ill-wisher. This saps the company from the inside. Genuine, active concern by every member of the company for the common cause is a sine qua non for a truly creative atmosphere.

p At the Gorky Theatre we have practically managed to ensure that nobody is ever offended over the distribution of roles, or if they are, then only temporarily and without letting it come to the surface. How did we achieve this? To tell the truth, first through fear and later through understanding.

p For instance, there was one actor who had achieved fame in heroic roles and played umpteen parts in “cloak and dagger” plays, an actor who played in a somewhat histrionic manner. In the years before I joined the company he had bagged all the best roles and practically ruled the theatre. Once he was given a small role in a three-minute scene, which hurt his pride. We did this deliberately, so that he would come and speak his mind on the subject. He did not. Why? This was no time for capriciousness: 38 members of the company had recently been dismissed. He decided it was best to swallow his pride and concentrate on doing this small role to the best of his ability. Which he did.

p There was another case of an actress who was used to leading roles in everything-in Russian and foreign classics, in modern plays- overstepping the mark and being most rude to the director. I sent for her 279 and told her that she was behaving abominably, and that it was not her job to criticise the director during rehearsals, but that she should concentrate on her role, taking his suggestions into account. The following conversation ensued.

p “I’m afraid I have no intention of behaving any differently from the way I am used to behaving,” she announced.

p “In that case we cannot possibly continue working together,” I replied.

p “Then I shall resign,” she said. She went to the manager, but I had time to warn him by telephone not to ask her any questions or enter into any discussion with her, but to simply sign her letter of resignation. He did, and her request was accepted. An hour later she took it back.

p At that time we decided that in the interests of the company we should dispense with those actors who might be necessary from a purely artistic standpoint but whose presence prevented us from putting into practice the principles of ethical training of the company.

p There were other cases: an actor who had always played the same type of part and who was given a different kind of role to play in order to help remove the rust of familiar cliches, came to have faith in us since this brought him audience success. This was the principle underlying our “re-education” activity-inspiring faith and trust.

p To begin with, every time an actor was deprived of a role that had been regarded as “his by right”, this was judged, from many years of habit, as a sign that the director was unfavourably disposed towards the actor in question. “M. has been given a three-minute incidental role. That’s the end of him!” This attitude had to be overcome. So in the next production he was given the “star” part. This was extremely baffling, at first, but only at first. Gradually everybody came to realise that the fact that an actor did not get the role he counted on or was given a minor part did not mean he was being got at.

p Today I can call the actors together and say: “Here are three people who can play this role. Let’s do an etude to decide who’s best.” The two who “drop out” in the process no longer feel snubbed. In this way we have managed to achieve a most important result-faith in the theatre management. We can now behave perfectly freely without danger of treading on anybody’s toes. Only an inveterate enemy of the theatre could possibly conceive that anything we do is not for the common good.

p Some directors are willing to ensure a quiet life for themselves by giving in to anybody who is ready to put up a fight with them over roles. This path, in my opinion, leads straight to disaster. One cannot expect to make everybody happy and some people won’t be silenced anyway, so that the director will simply be torn to pieces as soon as 280 he turns his back. There can be no question of proper management in this case, especially as the company is not so easily fooled. As soon as the actors feel that a play has been chosen simply to pacify somebody, the director will fall a victim to his own lack of principles.

p All these problems exist in the theatre and require solving. Creative sessions, on Wednesday or any other day of the week, are absolutely essential if all these problems are to be solved. They influence the theatre’s whole work and teach the actors to be exigent towards themselves and one another. Thus, by this natural process we managed to achieve results that elementary labour discipline had failed to produce.

p However, it should surely prove possible to find time amid all our complex tasks-performances, rehearsals, and all the multitude of activities the theatre involves-time to develop new forms so as not to forget that the theatre is an art and as such demands imagination and constant mental alertness. As I see it, this requires above all constant self-development and improvement by the actor and the stage-director, profound respect for their work and high demands of themselves and others. This is a complicated and delicate process. An actor may not always be capable of reasoning in a clear, coherent fashion, but he is still by his nature more of an artist than another who can express himself well. One must on no account be a purist here!

p Each of us must search in his own way, following his own special path. Only too often we go parallel to art without actually penetrating it as we should, resting content with the ready recipes our experience suggests to us. This is simply taking the easiest way out and is not productive of valuable results.

p Moulding an ensemble is perhaps the most complicated and delicate part of the stage-director’s job, requiring an excellent knowledge of the actor’s spirit. It is vital if we are concerned with developing the theatre rather than simply putting on the next production. There is, of course, another approach. The director goes to the town of N. to do a few productions there and then go on to the town of M., a university town by the sea, an extremely pleasant place to live. There is nothing to stop one from adopting this approach. But if it is a question of building up a theatre, and creating a team of fellow-artists with similar views and aims, there is no getting away from the problem of training this team. And here moral and artistic matters are interwoven.

p When I was first asked where I wanted to work, in a small travelling theatre as chief stage-director or in a big permanent one as assistant, I chose the former, for the simple reason that I wanted to build up my own theatre. I was still very young and it was a question of starting out from scratch. Moreover, things were by no means as easy as they are today, there were far more compromises to be made, both 281 material and artistic. However, that did not stop me from dismissing the manager’s wife, who had absolutely no right to be acting on the stage. I was a complete unknown while the manager was one of my direct superiors, and it would undoubtedly have been far easier not to risk antagonising him by dismissing his wife. But matters of principle must be decided without delay. The company is waiting for you to make a decision, and you cannot afford to avoid it or postpone it.

p But there is no point in taking such steps if your aim is simply to do the next production rather than build up a company. The great trouble with many stage-directors today is that they are making no effort to build up a theatre, and without this foundation all the fine words about community of ideas in art are patently worthless. This explains why one is hard put to these days to find a single theatre in the provinces that represents a professional entity. (Yet there were such theatres as long ago as before the Revolution-one has only to remember the fine companies directed by Sinelnikov and Samarin.) Hence the notorious escalator of “promotion”. Hence the absence of artistic soil in which to build up truly integrated theatrical ensembles.

p Sometimes a young director attracts attention with an interesting production with a small theatre company and is immediately transferred to a large one. Not surprisingly nothing good comes of this, because this was not a creative leap and the director can only develop and improve his abilities in a certain ambiance. Instead of being “promoted” to a large theatre, he should be allowed to develop among people who have faith in him, who have recognised him as their artistic leader, in an environment in which he is able to bring his budding talent to fruition. It is most important to take into account relationship between the director’s personality and views and the people he is working with, the company. This is a vital creative factor for the emergence of innovations in stage direction, new artists and new companies.

p All these problems-of both an artistic and ethical order-must be solved. Nemirovich-Danchenko was quite right when he pointed out that life in the theatre is an endless chain of compromises, and that the main thing is to choose the minimum compromise. A life without compromises, although possible in theory, requires abstract-ideal conditions, which no stage-director can ever hope to have. In concrete conditions one must seek the minimum compromise for the step forward one wishes to take, and this is extremely difficult for stagedirector and actors alike.

p The Art Theatre has some enormous achievements to its credit, thanks to the work of its brilliant founders. But often we have cause to reflect sadly on how little those who followed in their footsteps have done in the line of “educating” the company. It sometimes seems 282 that of their experience in this field all that remains is a few abstract formula like “the theatre begins at the cloakroom” and there is no real attempt being made to apply their principles in ethical “education”. Yet if we sweep these problems under the carpet today, we are committing a crime from the point of view of the future, from the point of view of building up the theatre. Although we and the actors will obviously find this the easiest course, the very foundations on which a theatre should be built will then collapse. If the stage-director is prepared to devote a couple of hours to solving these problems of an ethical order he will be doing a great deal for his theatre, although it may cost him more effort and frayed nerves than five straight runthrough rehearsals.

p Far be it from me to take it upon myself to solve all the problems connected with forming and “educating” a company, whether of a professional and methodological or a civic and human nature. Yet I feel bound to raise them, since they are so vital.

p Without this basis there can be no question of producing a creative atmosphere in the theatre, the conditions necessary for genuine creative work. It is not enough to simply concern ourselves with rehearsals and stage production: we must help produce a new generation of actors and stage-directors.

p Today the problem of training the company, the problem that A. D. Popov was so concerned about in his latter years, has acquired great actuality, for only on the basis of the moral-ethic code he spoke of can we hope to discover modern art forms.

p We live in an age where great events taking place in the world concern the individual to an ever greater extent. As technology develops and we belong more and more to a “mass” society, so the interest in every individual personality increases.

And if we succeed in training actors in such a way as to enable the theatre to speak of contemporary life in a contemporary language we shall be able to fulfil the great tasks our Party and people have set us, and for which all of us, and above all we stage-directors, bear a high, personal responsibility.