“This letter is for serious Drama Students…
…and gives good advice about stage manners, etc.”
From Rave, Washington, DC, 2007 (she would have been 90 at the time)
Rave loved to give advice, and she reflected the Old Hollywood mores she grew up with. She was vocally trained by an English woman who coached many stars, so she had a lot to say about voice. Her father was an Oscar-nominated cinematographer, so she had detailed opinions about camera angles. This piece is brief, but I’ll return to her advice again and again. It really gets going at the end, when she starts to tell a wonderful fight story but then ends it a bit too soon.
For answers to “life,” people should “go back” in their memory and search, from the past, the meanings for happenings in their present life. There was a famous actor in Hollywood, in the early days — his name escapes me. He wasn’t a star — just a bit player, but casting directors at Paramount liked him. He made a good appearance, was always on the set on time, and seemed to get along with everybody. And the star of the film, Mae West, always insisted he show up in one of the films she wrote for herself. He would play a neighbor in one film, or an ex-boyfriend or a husband — he was always in some part of Mae’s new films and everyone wondered why.
One day Mae West had the entire cast over to her home for dinner and a seance, for Mae was a really good psychic and could sit for hours in her apartment at The Ravenswood, which she owned, and tell stories of the supernatural. And she would often get side-tracked and begin predicting for those assembled in her living room. Her life was controlled by her visions and voices. Many young actors and actresses were led up the right path to success, and all because Mae went into a trance and was told by the spirit world that it would either work or not, for the individual who had come for an analysis.
We are not all born with gifts for acting or playing the piano or writing a great book. Some of us are simply the workers behind the scenes — doing good jobs, but not receiving kudos and acclaim for our efforts. We simply aren’t cut out to be famous, and must accept whatever comes to us.
I was perfectly happy when I’d visit my father, who was photographing a Preston Sturges movie. I’d sit [in] the commissary and have lunch with the stars and pretend I was one of them, but it wasn’t like the real thing.
We’re all dreamers when we hit a sound stage — I’ve never seen it fail. We identify with the rooms — all set up for action — and we imagine ourselves in that room, acting our heads off!! But first a person has to have study to be an actor. It’s not enough to want to be one. So few make it up to the top of the ladder — they lose faith in themselves, or they don’t get the proper breaks — a dozen reasons may be at the root of one’s failure. But if you know you’re screen material, photograph well, [then] carry on with the dream. Make friends with publicists — they’re great boosters when you need them.
And be aware of the material the director has chosen, and if you feel you would fit in, pull all the strings you can to get yourself heard and seen. Start young, if possible. Five years of age is not too soon to get acclimated to Hollywood’s way — and never forget — the camera is Real. The camera is an Entity. And if the camera loves you, you just might be on your way.
Another good entry in the world of movies is to sign up for classes in one of the Hollywood drama schools. They charge, but they give you a rudimentary beginning in the art of “stage presence” — they get you acclimated, so you no longer feel awkward on a stage. And they teach the all-important Voice Projection lesson — And this order that on a stage your voice has to be heard up to the last balcony.
Project. Don’t swallow your voice, let it be heard. Nothing is harder on an audience than to strain to hear an actor speak. And don’t stick to just comedy or drama — indulge in all forms of entertainment. Pantomime is a good beginning. But with enough practice, you’ll find your niche. Make the work a joy, a romp, don’t take it too seriously, or your work will become ponderous.
Acting, of itself, shouldn’t really be seen — but suggested. Never upstage your fellow player — He’s counting on his space, too, so never elbow a fellow actor if you can help it. Be a giver of space and good will and generosity, or the play will suffer. Audiences are only too aware when there are personal differences that climb right over the footlights and face the audience.
I well remember the night I saw the great British actor, Maurice Evans, appear in NYC in a new play. Long before the curtain went up, we all heard loud voices backstage — there was quarreling and histrionics, and one knocked-down actor and the audience closest to the stage heard it all. Well — when the curtain finally went up, the audience saw a line-up of red-faced males starting out at the packed theatre. With the guiltiest looks on their faces, and of course the audience realized there had been serous altercations back stage. They were seeing the results first-hand. It took the poor actors a good half hour to get back into character, and all because they had let a temper tantrum interrupt their production. No one was fired, but it had been a good lesson for all the fledgling thespians. I heard, later on, the same lapse from good taste and good sportsmanship never happened again.
