Now it all begins

Today, the real work on Tilly No-Body began, in that my director - Miles Anderson - and I sat down to watch a very rough recording of the basic script that I made a few weeks ago to send to David Roesner, the composer. As an actor, it's always very difficult watching work that hasn't been specifically made to be filmed. Also, at this stage, I've not worked on character and interpretation in detail: the recording was pretty much a moved reading. What became instantly apparent to us is to ensure that (a) the story is clear and (b) Tilly garners the audience's sympathy and empathy. Life in 1900's Germany was tough: there was a lead-up to World War 1; there was a certain disposability of life (Wedekind's Spring Awakening was written as a protest against teenage suicides); there was a certain 'dramatic' quality to life. While wanting to harness all those elements, it's important that we find the charm in Tilly, as well as the evident depression and despair that haunted many at that time. Even at this stage - before the real rehearsals start in September, and as I start now to learn the lines - it's important to consider Tilly's 'voice'. I have to focus on vocal warmth, and not be shrill. I have to find a physical liquidity that will be expressive and engaging, while also remaining (as an actor) grounded in a fairly (character-led) eccentricity and drama. As part of this, a certain kind of 'training' must begin. I need to ensure I do some vocal work every day, as well as physical work (I'm currently swimming and doing a particular favorite yoga routine), at the same time as hardening up my finger tips for playing the lute. In other words, it's time now to shift quite radically from researcher-writer mode, into actor-interpreter mode. Anderson will be a great - and very tough - director. He won't let me get away with anything. This is both terrifying and heartening. He is a director who understands acting processes - a rare and valued attribute - due largely to his own acting prowess. He's currently gaining glowing reviews for his wonderful performance of King George in Alan Bennett's The Madness of George III at San Diego Old Globe.

Making music

David Roesner is a sparkling scholar and a highly talented musician. We both started at the University of Exeter, UK, at the same time in September 2005. When I left to join the faculty at UC Davis, David became Head of Department. We're both performance makers who enjoy the interlacing of the Academy and the Industry, while also understanding the complexities of validating and presenting our practical work in the academic environment. We have just been Skyping from US to UK, exchanging ideas about atmosphere, space, and the intricacies of storytelling through music. Working primarily from intuition, David already has some terrific ideas about the texturing of voices and sounds to create abstracted spaces. Last week, I recorded a very rough version of Tilly No-Body in the studio which I will now send David. He already has the script, but is keen to work from visuals, however basic those visuals may be at this stage, so that he can truly tune into the collaborative story-telling.

I started concentrated work on the basic contents for the script of Tilly No-Body in January - researching, archiving, translating, reading as many of Wedekind's plays as possible. Since March, I've been concentrating purely on the writing, but in so doing, I've been testing out the workability of the piece by 'enacting' it. This has involved a curious dialogue between my writer's/archivist's head and my acting body/voice. 'What feels right in the body? Which words lie naturally in the tongue?' While I'll outline more about the writing process in future 'Background' blogs, the key concept to note with 'practice-as-research' as an actor devising (I am finding) is that a particular dual consciousness is necessary in the studio/laboratory (I won't call it 'rehearsal room' yet, as my director Miles Anderson doesn't begin working with me until September). It requires gently easing from writer to actor, without the schizophrenia getting in the way of creative moments of 'aha'! So the DVD I'll be sending David has little concern for detailed staging or nuanced interpretation yet - it's all about the textual story-telling and the script at the moment. That said, the instant visuals arising from the text - while fairly primitive at the moment - will (we hope) prompt David's musical imagination in new ways from the written word.

Who am I?

Take an unknown 18-year old actress. Take a 40-year old nationally celebrated playwright. Put them together in a creative and romantic alliance – and the result is explosive. The dramatis personae in question are Tilly and Frank Wedekind. The time is the early 20th century. The place is Germany. And who am I? I’m an actress in her 40s, based in Davis (California) with a passion for practice-as-research. Which – for me – basically means finding ways of putting historical, cultural and archival material into the body and sharing the results with a live audience. I’ve been fascinated by Frank and Tilly Wedekind since I played Lulu in London in the early 1990s, when as part of my research, I came across Tilly Wedekind’s autobiography: Lulu – Die Rolle Meines Lebens (Lulu: The Role of my Life). It was in German – and I knew there were some real gems inside. I’d imagined that Tilly had called her autobiography Lulu: The Role of my Life because the part was so immense it had launched her whole career. However, over the course of several years (way past the actual production of Lulu), I poured over Tilly’s words – schoolgirl German in my head and German dictionary in my hand. And I began to discover the truth: Lulu was the role of her life because Frank had turned her into Lulu in the course of their life together.

When I played Lulu, I was 26. My then-partner was an extraordinary playwright aged 40. He’d met me one night in a wine bar in London, where I was singing torch songs to the accompaniment of a piano. This imposing figure – long dark hair, white shirt and dark suit, a figure out of a Jacobean Revenge tragedy – came up to me afterwards. ‘You remind me of Wedekind’s Lulu,’ he said, expecting me to speak in some Essex twang, going, ‘Oh, yeah – who’s she, then?’ Instead, I said, ‘That’s one of my favorite plays!’ (I’d studied it during my undergrad years at Birmingham University). That was it – we’d swept each other off our feet. I was impressed by the writer, in awe of him, inspired by his wit, intelligence, literary knowledge and aplomb. Indeed, it was his version of Lulu that we staged at the Chelsea Centre Theatre nearly 20 years ago. Little by little, over the course of our 4 years together, I felt him turning me into Lulu. So when I began to fathom the true contents of Tilly’s autobiography, I had a deep, deep connection with her – a woman long since dead and a different culture and world. And that connection has continued for 20 years. In this blog, I shall recount the journey from translating biography, to visiting Munich, to collecting and collating all the material that has found its way into Tilly No-Body, through rehearsal, to performance, and beyond. I hope you enjoy the ride…