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Theatre Topics, Volume 5, Number 2, September 1995, pp. 181-201
(Article)
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10.1353/tt.2010.0011
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Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics:An Acting Technique for
Today
Jane Baldwin
The American theatre has undergone radical changes in its
repertory andstaging practices in the last thirty-five years. As a
result, actors are called uponto display a multiplicity of skills
that, sadly, many do not possess. For, with afew notable
exceptions, American actor training has not kept pace with theneeds
of contemporary theatre. Psychological realism in the form of the
Methodretains its iron grip.
In New York, which maintains its reputation as the U.S. center
for theatretraining, the Method is the primary tool of instruction.
Universities and con-servatories, it is true, frequently augment
their acting programs with move-ment and speech, but these courses
are too often taught in isolation, their con-tent separated from
that of the acting classes. Other acting techniques, otheracting
traditions, are not widely explored.
One such alternative tradition, Theatrical Biomechanics, was
introducedto American theatre practitioners in June of 1993. Master
teachers GennadiBogdanov and Nikolai Karpov were invited to teach
Vsevolod Meyerhold'ssystem in its authentic form at an institute
hosted by Tufts University.1 Subse-quently, Bogdanov spent several
weeks in New York training the actors of thePhoenix Ensemble in
preparation for a production in the Biomechanical styledirected by
Ivan Popovski. This article discusses the usefulness of
Biomechan-ics for the American actor. It describes and assesses the
training at the insti-tute, including student reaction, and
provides a brief depiction of the applica-tion of the technique to
production.
The Revival of Theatrical Biomechanics in Russia
The revolutionary director Vsevolod Meyerhold (1874-1940)
developedTheatrical Biomechanics, which is both an acting technique
and a productionstyle, as an antidote to his former mentor
Stanislavsky's psychological real-ism. Biomechanical
experimentation was cut short in the 1930s by Stalin's
con-demnation of all forms of art except socialist realism. The
Communist
181
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182 Jane Baldwin
Meyerhold found himself in the incongruous position of having
his art con-demned as "bourgeois" and "alien to Soviet art" by the
state Committee on theArts (Rudnitsky 540). By 1938, having
completely fallen from favor with theregime, the victim of a
vicious smear campaign, Meyerhold had lost his the-atre. Two years
later he was dead, shot in prison on February 2, 1940, after
asecret trial (Chentalinski 96).2 A victim of the political
corruption and egre-gious human rights violations of the Stalinist
era, he had been tortured to ex-tract a false confession
(Chentalinski 75). With his death, Meyerhold became anon-person in
the Soviet Union, his writings and practices outlawed.
In the West, acting teachers periodically attempted to resurrect
TheatricalBiomechanics as a methodology. For years, their sources
consisted of a fewsketchy writings, plus two dozen photos of an
actor performing a Meyerholdtude brought back to the U.S. by Lee
Strasberg in 1934. However, even as ar-chival material slowly
became more available to Western scholars, missing wasa living link
to the work. Thus the results of these Western attempts were
inac-curate, unsatisfactory, and ultimately unsuccessful. The
practice of TheatricalBiomechanics was presumed to have vanished
from the theatre.
Yet in 1972, more than thirty years after Meyerhold's death, the
figure inthe photographs, Nikolai Kustov, emerged from the
theatrical underground towhich he had been relegated. Valentin
Pluchek, director of the Moscow The-atre of Satire, had taken the
unprecedented step of inviting Kustov, a formeractor/teacher in
Meyerhold's company, to train a select group of eight youngactors
in Theatrical Biomechanics.3
Until his death three and a half years later, Kustov worked with
the group,training them in the almost forgotten and still forbidden
art of Biomechanics.Perhaps his most avid student was Gennadi
Bogdanov, newly engaged by theTheatre of Satire after his
graduation from GITIS, Russia's leading drama school.Biomechanics
was a revelation to Bogdanov, who had been trained in
thestate-sanctioned Stanislavsky System. Bogdanov recalls
Kustovthen in hissixties, ailing and aged beyond his yearsas a
brilliant teacher. No longer ableto sustain the pace of the
physical work, Kustov sat most of the time, chainsmoking, observing
the students closely, only getting up to show the form ofthe
exercises, the nuances and subtleties.
In 1974, Nikolai Karpov began auditing the class, absorbing the
techniquebut unable to participate since he was not a member of the
Theatre of Satire.Having completed his studies at the Shchepkin
State Institute of Theatre Arts,Karpov was then a graduate student
and teaching assistant at GITIS, stagemovement and combat his
primary interests. Sharing a common vision of thetheatre, Bogdanov
and Karpov found themselves drawn to each other.
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Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics 183
After Kustov's death, their career paths diverged. Bogdanov
remained atthe Theatre of Satire where, in addition to playing in
the mainstage produc-tions, he and the group of Kustov-trained
actors began developing a Biome-chanical production of Waiting for
Godot, in which Bogdanov played Lucky. Itwould take a decade and a
radically-changed political climate before the pro-duction would
reach the public.
Karpov became an instructor in the Movement Department at GITIS
where,disturbed by hidebound traditions, he pushed for change,
alienating many ofhis colleagues. Relationships deteriorated, and
Karpov moved to the Directing
A rare 1926 photo of Meyerhold's students performing the etude,
"Shooting from the Bow."From left to right: Z. P. Zlobin, L. N.
Sverdlin, Meyerhold's daughter Irina, and R. M. Genena.Photo: A. A.
Temeren, used by permission of the owner, Gennadi Bogdanov.
Department. Undeterred, Karpov continued to advocate reform,
particularlythe introduction of Biomechanics. Or perhaps it would
be more correct to sayBiomechanics's reintroduction, since the
school had been founded under the aus-pices of Meyerhold.
Eventually, it became obvious that the pedagogical changesKarpov
wanted were not going to be implemented. Frustrated, he left for
Syriain the early 1980s to teach in the Damascus Theatre
School.
During Karpov's absence, Russia began to undergo the political
upheavalwhose repercussions would affect every aspect of life.
GITIS was not immune.
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184 Jane Baldwin
Politics had always driven the institute's curriculum and
continued to do so.The door was cautiously opened to reform, the
curriculum reexamined. NikolaiKarpov was invited to return as
Chairman of the Movement Department.
Thus Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics began to infiltrate the
school'scurriculum. Bogdanov was brought in, at first to teach one
course, which turnedinto two; and now Biomechanics is a viable and
significant part of the actingand directing program at GITIS
(recently renamed the Russian Academy ofTheatre Arts). The two men
are very proud of their accomplishment, stating,"Now we can say
that truly through tremendous difficulties, in our
theatricalacademy, only ours, we have set an example. We have added
something newwhich, of course, is old, but had been forgotten a
long time ago" (personalinterview).
There is a certain irony that the resurgence of Biomechanics at
GITIS couldonly be realized through the collapse of Communism.
Although Meyerholdbegan formulating his ideas of a movement-based
acting system as early as1905, the development of Theatrical
Biomechanics was closely linked to theaims of the evolving
Communist culture. Meyerhold viewed the actor as an-other worker in
the system devoted to building the new society.
In their approach to teaching Theatrical Biomechanics, Bogdanov
andKarpov have nearly eliminated the system's Communist ideology.
Meyerhold'sinsistence on strong ensemble was motivated by political
as well as aestheticbeliefs. Yet unconscious vestiges of this
ideology remain in Bogdanov's andKarpov's teaching, particularly in
their vocabulary. For instance, they occa-sionally reprimanded
students at the Tufts institute for self-indulgence,
forconcentrating on their individuality to the detriment of the
group.
It should be noted that GITIS is the only theatre institute in
Russia offer-ing Biomechanics, since, at this time, Bogdanov is the
only qualified instruc-tor. As Karpov reminds us: "Everything else
is based on theoretical research"(personal interview).
The Institute in Theatrical Biomechanics at Tufts4
Eight students of diverse ages and backgrounds participated in
thefour-week program. Their common bond was an interest in
alternative train-ing and developing fresh techniques, though their
specific aims differed. Allwere conscious of the historical
implications of the Tufts institute. They rangedin age from their
early twenties to late forties: among them were theatre
in-structors, actors, directors, and a dancer/choreographer. A
number of the stu-dents crossed disciplines, e.g., some of the
teachers were actors or directors.
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Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics 185
Despite the fact that their movement training varied from strong
to almostnon-existent, everyone found the classes equally arduous,
not least the profes-sional dancer, Llory Wilson. She discovered,
somewhat to her chagrin, that itwas "as much a challenge for me as
for anyone else" (personal interview).
Since Bogdanov and Karpov speak only the most rudimentary
English,translators were essential. The institute was fortunate in
obtaining the servicesof two bilingual actressesone American, who
had trained previously withthe teachers in Europe (Kathryn
Mederos), and one Russian (Katya Chaika)both of whom participated
in the classes. Facilitating the process, Bogdanovand Karpov led
and performed the exercises with the students, in contrast
totraditional acting classes where the teacher acts as audience and
critic. Conse-quently, the instruction was far less
language-dependent than the typical course.
Classes consisted of rigorous and varied movement training, six
hoursper day, five days per week. When the students began preparing
scenes, eveningrehearsal time was added. Each instructor taught the
students for half the day,alternating mornings and afternoons.
However, to ensure absolute synchroni-zation, the non-teaching
instructor always observed the other's class.
Although Bogdanov teaches pure Theatrical Biomechanics and
Karpovmore traditional movement, their classes overlap, the natural
outcome of hav-ing striven to move in parallel directions and to
eliminate philosophical differ-ences in their teaching. In Karpov's
classes, the students apply the principlesof Biomechanics to the
study of fencing, stage combat, stunt work, and com-plete physical
compositions. As the course progresses, vocal work and eventu-ally
text are incorporated. Karpov explains his collaboration with
Bogdanovthus:
We can give different exercises, different tasks, but we are not
in conflictwith one another. We support each other. We build on one
another's work.Gena (Bogdanov's nickname) and I agree completely on
what we want theactor to gain from the process, (personal
interview)
Both instructors maintain emphatically that they are not trying
to recre-ate the Biomechanical style as employed by Meyerhold but
rather "to create afoundation of Biomechanical principles on which
contemporary actors and di-rectors can build their work" (personal
interview). They see their teaching as astepping stone to the
future.
Theatrical Biomechanics and Emotion
Meyerhold is frequently accused of ignoring the actor's psyche,
of train-ing only the exterior. However, when he railed against
Stanislavsky's "method
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186 Jane Baldwin
of 'authentic emotion,'" it was not emotion that he decried but
formlessness(Meyerhold 199). "The fundamental deficiency of the
modern actor" was, forMeyerhold, a direct result of developing the
inner life at the expense of, andapart from, the physical
(199).
Biomechanics is a holistic approach to actor trainingthe
integration ofform and emotion. Meyerhold believed, as do his
disciples Bogdanov andKarpov, that the affective state must be
created physically. In his writings,Meyerhold emphasized that "all
psychological states are determined by spe-cific physiological
processes," that "from a sequence of physical positions
andsituations, there arise those points of excitation which are
informed with someparticular emotion" (199). As the actor develops
his or her body biomechani-cally, an eloquent instrument for the
expression of feeling is being trained. Atthe same time,
Biomechanics employs a choreographic/athletic approach whichdemands
absolute accuracy. The discipline trains the actor to work in a
state ofconcentration and to retain only what is essential. The
paradox of TheatricalBiomechanics is the freedom that the mastery
of this precise technique givesthe actor. For whatever the
biomechanically-trained actor's imagination canconceive, the body
can depict.
The system deals with the actor's inner being in a variety of
ways. Thestudent learns to surmount emotional as well as physical
blocks. Biomechanicsdevelops the ability to perform in a state of
profound concentrationan in-valuable tool for the actor. Kathleen
Baum, one of the institute students, ar-ticulated a typical
reaction:
The whole question of concentration has taken on new meanings
for me.There is an intensity, an absoluteness of concentration that
I have neverencountered in actor training. In the simplest task,
the moment your con-centration is not 100%, you are off. It is
visible, it is noted, you feel it inyourself, (personal
interview)
Exploring their physical limits, actors break old patterns and
retrain theirresponses. Throughout, the instructors remind the
actor that the goal of therigorous training is not purely physical
expertise but rather its ultimate appli-cation to the creation of a
role. For example, the number of balls an actor mayjuggle is far
less consequential, ultimately, than who he or she is while
jug-gling them.
Fundamentals of Theatrical Biomechanics
Actors train to develop agility, strength, and coordination
throughout theirbodies, as well as a strong sense of ensemble. In
practical terms, this means
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Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics 187
they acquire equal facility on both their left and right sides,
become adept atwalking on their hands, and all actors (female as
well as male) learn to supporta partner's weight using various
parts of their bodies.
From the initial class, students work with partners and in
groups. Sincemany of the exercises carry a certain physical risk,
the stakes are high, inspir-ing an exceptional intensity of
attention, mutual support, and ensemble. Ac-tors seek to develop a
total consciousness of the stage environment, experi-enced not only
through the eyes and ears but, again, through the entire body.They
also learn to remain in control. Unlike movement courses that
stress free-ing the self, Biomechanics provides a rigid structure
in which focus, precision,and economy of energy are emphasized.
Within this structure, the performerdevelops expressiveness.
Rhythm and balance play a critical role. Meyerhold linked the
two indis-solubly: "The actor must have rhythm, must be familiar
with the laws of bal-ance. An actor ignorant of the laws of balance
is less than an apprentice" (200).Rhythm is the element of
performance that creates both form and meaning inTheatrical
Biomechanics. The actor's role is akin to that of a musician in
amusical composition. His or her movements, gestures, line (i.e.,
the personalmise en scne) fit rhythmically and integrally into the
dramatic composition. Toaid the actor's rhythmic development, music
is frequently integrated into theclasswork; actors sometimes work
with the rhythm, more often against. Theskilled Biomechanical actor
can perform while simultaneously utilizing dis-parate rhythms in
different parts of the body.
Having thoroughly examined realistic activities, movement, and
gesture,Meyerhold concluded that any activity always contains, in a
fixed order, cer-tain universal components. He isolated these
components, exaggerated them,and gave them a theatrical shape in
the exercises and tudes, or movement com-positions, which he
created.
In developing his system, Meyerhold created a vocabulary of
movement.The terminology of Theatrical Biomechanics offers actors a
universal languageof the body, functioning in much the same way as
Italian for musicians or Frenchfor ballet dancers. Consequently,
Bogdanov, for reasons of accuracy, insists thateven non-Russians
learn the original terms. Listed below is the basic vocabu-lary and
its translation:
Otkaz: (the refusal) a countermovement, a preparation for the
ac-tion which also signals the partner that the actor is ready to
inter-act. Meyerhold believed that all movement has a
countermovement,no matter how minute, which initiates it.
Pacil: (the sending) both the commitment to and the doing of
theaction.
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188 Jane Baldwin
Tormos: (the brake) the restraint which must be applied
simulta-neously with the forward momentum of the pacil to maintain
con-trol.
Tochka: (a point in space, a period at the end of the sentence)
orStoika: (a stance) These two terms are often used
interchangeably.Both refer to the completion of the action at a
specific point in spaceand time.
Powsa: (the pause) a moment of stillness, an elegant
counterpointto the physical activity. However, the body, even in
stillness, is neverin repose. It continues to radiate the dynamic
energy of readinessfor the next action. At the Tufts institute, the
powsa was particularlyutilized in the tudes.
This sequence differentiates Theatrical Biomechanics from other
forms ofmovement training. The breaking down of all activity into
otkaz, pacil, tormos,and tochka instills exactness, spatial and
temporal awareness, and plasticityinto the actors' work. Through
repetition, the actor internalizes "the laws ofmotion," learning to
begin each movement with its opposite, to commit fullyto the
action, and to come to a complete stop (Barba 157). Despite the
brakingor stopping, the action is never static; each movement
contains a trace of thepreceding as well as the germ of the
subsequent move. As Kathryn Mederosexplains, "The combination of
forward momentum and restraint gives the workan elasticity,
creating a kind of theatrical tension which is beautiful to
watch"(personal interview).
Biomechanical Exercises and tudes
At Tufts, classes in Biomechanics consisted of four segments,
which flowedone into the other and incorporated components of the
tudes that terminatedthe strictly Biomechanical work. This format
can vary depending upon the du-ration of the session.
Classes start with a long and thorough warmup of the entire
body. In theinitial classes at Tufts, warmups ran about an hour. As
the students progressed,the warmups were shortened so that the
other elements could be expanded.The warmup focuses on flexibility,
balance, and coordination. Integrated intothe exercises are
principles of ensemble, rhythm, spatial orientation, and
re-sponsiveness. A typical sequence starts slowly and gently and
includes in thefollowing order: the rotation of the feet and
ankles; gentle knee bends; rota-tions and isolation of the knees
and hips, shoulders, arms, and wrists; flexingand massaging of the
hands and fingers; easy circles of the head.
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Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics 189
Exercises then intensify, emphasizing the legs and,
particularly, the feet.Because balance is of primary importance,
footwork is viewed as the base ofall movement, all expression.
Students jog in place and proceed to running in acircle, feet
pointed toward the center, arms to the side, always keeping an
equaldistance between themselves and their classmates. Even at this
early stage ofthe class, students focus on their relation to their
surroundings and to others.
Running becomes more complexon the toes, on the heels, on the
out-side, then on the inside of the feet. The pace changes,
positions change, stepsare varied. Students may lunge across the
room, then repeat the same move-ment in a crouch. Throughout the
exercise, Bogdanov moves beside the stu-dents, encouraging,
correcting, demonstrating, and giving directions to whichthey must
react immediately. That there is no obvious rhythm or logic to
thedirectional changes forces the student to sustain a high level
of consciousness.
The warmup generally ends with a series of strenuous jumps
undertakenfrom a crouching position. In preparation, the student
squats on the heels; theright leg is extended to the side, then the
left, repeating the movement severaltimes; then a jump straight up,
arms held high. In mid-air, the knees are broughtto the chest and
clutched briefly with the arms. The objective is to try to holdthe
position in the air for a moment before landing once more in a
crouch. In avariant, the student does not draw up the knees but
instead extends the bodymid-airback arching slightly, arms and legs
outstretched, chest open, headand eyes focused upwardbefore
dropping back into a crouch on landing. Asthe student builds
strength, these jumps are performed in alternation, severaltimes in
rapid succession. Other legwork may follow.
The next stage of the class consists of spatial work. For the
actor, key com-ponents are: (1) to develop an awareness of the
dynamic of the body in space;(2) to develop presence; and (3) to
explore the ways in which the body canmove through space. As in all
biomechanical work, the principles of otkaz, pacil,tormos, and
tochka are applied in each exercise. There are numerous
exercisesfor this segment. I have restricted myself to three
examples:
1. Two partners approach each other and create a simple mise
enscne with their bodies. Their relationship to the space is as
impor-tant as their relationship to each other's body. The partners
createmovement patterns until they have exhausted all
possibilities.
2. Again investigating every potentiality, the actor experiments
withdifferent ways of walkingforward, backwards, tripping,
turning,on one foot, on the hands, etc. This exercise can be used
to explorecharacter walks. In a variation, the actor climbs and
descends stairs.Each step on the stair requires its own otkaz
sequence.
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190 Jane Baldwin
3. A third exercise for the group is based on the children's
game"Follow the Leader." The leader moves about the room at
varyingspeeds and directions, followed by the rest of the class.
Movementsinclude jumps, leaps, turns, crouches, touching the floor
with oneor both hands, etc.
This phase of the class over, students then move to training
with objects,most often batons and balls, employing left and right
sides of the body equally.While the obvious skills to be acquired
are coordination and balance, the ac-tors simultaneously make other
discoveries. They learn about their own bod-ies as they explore the
possibilities of movement, using the objects. Signifi-cantly,
training with objects also directs the actor's attention outside of
him/herself, paving the way towards ensemble work. In class, the
actor seldomworks alone; if an exercise does not call for a human
partner, then inanimateobjects serve a similar function. Llory
Wilson, who wanted to apply her stud-ies at the institute to
partnering in dance, noted the phenomenon:
I have learned so much about partnering through the baton work.
AU thelearning about how to balance an object that isn't even
dynamic, that isn'teven making a decision on its own, has been so
helpful. I have learned somuch about how I as a partner would
affect the mistakes of another per-son through my decisions,
(personal interview)
In this segment as in all the others, there are innumerable
variations ofincreasing difficulty. Students are always challenged,
never allowed to feelcomfortable. Most exercises begin on the flat
floor, then move to ramps, bal-ance beams, or levels of different
heights. The following series depicting theactor's work with the
baton illustrates the drill required.
Baton poised on the palm of the hand, the actor prepares by
bending theknees (the otkaz), a downward movement, although the
final movement is up-wards. The baton is moved to a finger, then
passed from one fingertip to an-other. The legs help to keep it
balanced; the eyes focus on the end of the baton,the inanimate
partner. It is balanced on the shoulder, the elbow, the forehead,on
the toes of one foot while standing on the other. The actors begin
to move,to run, to stop and say a line of poetry while
synchronously balancing the ba-ton on the middle finger. Still
moving, they twirl the baton hand-over-hand,under a leg, behind the
back. Twirling the baton, fingers facing downwards,hands circle to
the outside, then the student lifts his/her elbow while bringingthe
baton to the shoulder level, then overhead. The baton is brought to
theopposite shoulder and caught with the other hand.
The next step involves partnering with another person. Students
practicein pairs, tossing the baton back and forth, first with the
right hand, then the
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Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics 191
left, then with two batons. As they become more competent, they
throw andcatch the baton with various parts of the body in myriad
ways. A second batonis balanced on the first.
At every stage, Bogdanov adds a subtext of varying complexity,
and theobject with which the student is working is endowed with a
particular charac-teristic, giving the exercise dramatic meaning.
The baton, for example, mightbecome a sword, a magic wand, a tool,
etc. In each case, the manner in whichthe actor relates to the
object is altered by its new properties.
At the end of the third week of the institute, group
improvisations withbatons were introduced, some incorporating
music. The students were inclinedto become emotionally swept away
by the music rather than using it as a coun-terpoint to their
creation, a tendency criticized by the instructors.
In reviewing the improvisation, the instructors reiterated that,
workingbiomechanically, the actor perfects the form from which the
emotion springs.Although there is freedom of choice in the
improvisation, there must be preci-sion of action. The actor must
proceed step by step, being careful not to rush.Beginning students
tend to skip over sections of the sequence, to sacrifice theotkaz
(the refusal) to the pacil (the sending), with chaotic results.
Bogdanovalso cautioned the class that the work should be light and
joyous.
Classwork culminates in an tude which brings together all the
Biome-chanical components. If the exercises are Meyerhold's barre
work for the actor,then, in keeping with the dance analogy, the
etude parallels the combination.Five tudes were bequeathed to
Bogdanov by Kustov. They are entitled: "Shoot-ing from the Bow,"
"Throwing the Stone," "Jump onto the Chest," "The Slap,"and "The
Stab." Meyerhold likened these tudes to brief pantomimic
melodra-mas, several minutes in length. Some are monodramas; others
involve two ac-tors. At Tufts, the students worked on "Throwing the
Stone" for one actor and"The Stab" and "The Slap" for two. In
general, the two person tudes presentthe actor with a more complex
set of tasks.
Each tude depicts a rudimentary story; the two person tudes have
theadditional element of conflict. Each is inspired by an athletic
activity or mar-tial art, broken down into prescribed moments and
rendered with precise, styl-ized, and bold movements. Performing
the tudes demands intricate skillsthe ability to make sudden
physical, rhythmical, and emotional transitions;the isolation and
coordination of different muscle groups and body parts; pre-cision,
endurance, and timing.
The tudes are not an end in themselves but compositions intended
for thepractice of a technique. Formalistic, they are diametrically
opposed to impro-
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192 Jane Baldwin
visation. Like dance combinations, they serve the double
function of revealingto the actor areas of weakness and improving
those areas. Their aim, however,is distinctly theatrical. Their
purpose extends beyond the perfecting of physi-cal skills; equally
important is their dramatic component. At this level ofclasswork,
the actor's task becomes the complete integration of form and
emo-tion.
Inherent to each tude is a dramatic build leading to at least
one specificfeeling expressed in formalized gestic
movementexuberance, menace, fear,triumph, etc. Because they depict
conflict, emotion is particularly high in thepartner tudes. While
feeling is expressed to the audience through the gesture,it is also
the gesture that evokes feeling in the actor. This is strictly
antitheticalto the Method approach of searching for emotion within
the realm of personalexperience. And yet, the phrase Bogdanov so
often repeats in this regard, "theemotion is in the commitment to
the action," is applicable to the Method andBiomechanics alike.
Bogdanov monitors this section of the work very closely since
the studentis at risk of falling into the solipsistic trap
described by Meyerhold, who casti-gated the actor "so overwhelmed
by his emotions, that he has been unable toanswer either for his
movements or for his voice" (199). Lost are balance, coor-dination,
accuracy, focus, controlin a word, form. The actor experiences
arush of feeling but at the audience's expense. To counteract this
tendency,Bogdanov has the actors work on the solo tudes in a circle
where, in additionto the expression of form and emotion, they
concentrate on group timing,rhythm, and spatial relationship. Focus
is at once inward, on the actors' ownwork, and outward, on the
others in the circle. For the two person tudes, allthe actors work
at the same time, so again shared focus is an essential factor.
During the early stages of the learning process, Bogdanov calls
out thenames of each component of the tude, signaling the
transition from one seg-ment into the next. Segments are linked by
what could best be described as anactive pause, in which the body
holds its position in a state of dynamic ten-sion. These pauses
vary in length, from roughly three seconds to perhaps twenty.As
their length is not fixed, the etude's tempo cannot be anticipated.
Studentsmust maintain their bodies in a constant state of readiness
for the next action.
This is a point to which Bogdanov returns again and again. Like
Meyerhold, hebelieves that relaxation, in the sense of letting go,
is inimical to theatricality.
Once their execution becomes more competent, students perform
the tudeswithout Bogdanov's commands. The group must spontaneously
determine thetempo of its transitions from segment to segment in
the course of performingthe tude. They listen to each other's
breathing and observe peripherally the
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Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics 193
pace of the others' gestures and their otkaz, while maintaining
individual pre-cision of form in a complex and strenuous movement
sequence.
In the partner tudes, all the actors work concurrently, though
in pairs.Identical ensemble considerations come into play but with
the added ingredi-ent of response. Unlike realistic acting, the
dynamic, from the actor's point ofview, is more rhythmic than
emotional. The actor orients by the partner'srhythm, feeling the
"right" moment to come in. From a directorial perspective,this
permits a control over the rhythms of a production that Method
spontane-ity does not.
The Dactyl
Initiating and terminating all tudes is the dactyl, the
punctuation mark ofthe tude. It is a sequence of movements in which
group rhythm is established;this sequence is repeated until the
actors are in synchronization. Complicatingthe task is the uneven
rhythm of the dactyl. A similar syncopated rhythm isfound in the
tudes. Although a complex set of movements, the dactyl takesonly a
few seconds to perform.
Standing in the neutral position, feet parallel and opened to
shoulderwidth, the actor bounces slightly on the toes. This opening
movement is fol-lowed by the otkazknees bend, elbows are back, head
bends facing the floor.By contrast, the pacil is an extensionthe
legs straighten, and the arms, hands,and face lift straight up,
reaching towards the ceiling. The body drops againquickly; the
knees bend and bounce; the head hangs forward; then the actorrolls
up quickly, and the hands are brought together in an expansive
roundedmovement punctuated by two brisk claps. The claps are
synchronized with twoknee bounces. There is a brief release of
energy as the body flops forward; thenthe legs and body straighten
as the actor assumes the neutral positionthetochka. From there, the
actor jumps into position to begin the tude.
The following is a description of "The Slap" as it was worked on
in classunder the direction of Bogdanov. Throughout this tude, the
relation of the ac-tors' bodies to the audience would be in profile
or three-quarter silhouette.
The Slap
1. Preparation. Partners A and B face each other in the neutral
posi-tion. They are far enough apart so they must lean into a lunge
tograsp hands.
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194 Jane Baldwin
2. The Stance. Knees bent, actors jump into the air; head and
upperbody roll forward and straighten; they land with one foot in
frontof the other, still facing the partner.
3. Preparation for the Greeting. From the neutral position, both
part-ners pivot right, now facing each other on the diagonal. The
lead-ing hip thrusts forward; the weight is on the rear leg, which
is bent.The front leg extends straight forward, toe pointed and
slightlyturned in. Simultaneously, the right arm draws back, elbow
bent,hand at chest level, palm parallel to the torso, fingers
extended.The left arm hangs at ease in front of the torso. The
partners con-template one another over their left shoulders.
4. The Greeting. Forward weight shift into a deep lunge; the
rear legis fully extended. Leaning into each other, partners extend
their rightarms and grasp hands.
5. The Stance. The partners release hands and straighten briefly
tothe neutral position.
6. The Dance. In a series of quick, rhythmic steps reminiscent
of atap dance, the actors shuffle and stamp, hopping from foot to
foot,leaning deep into the floor with each step. Simultaneously,
theyswing their arms up over their heads in a sweeping gesture
andthen rub their hands together as if to warm them.
7. The Stance. At a signal from Bogdanov, the actors jump into
theair and land in the neutral position. On the ascent, the arms
pull tothe sides, bend at the elbow, and straightenthree times by
thecompletion of the descent.
8. Preparation for the Slap. From neutral, in a single wave-like
mo-tion, the actors contract, straighten, and pivot right, stepping
backonto the right foot. The right knee bends; the weight shifts
over theright leg, the entire angle of the body tilting right. The
left leg isextended forward, slightly turned in, toe pointed, knee
slightly bent.The partners are once again facing one another on the
diagonal. Si-multaneously, A's right arm swings slowly back in a
wide arc, com-ing to rest overhead, raised and curving, palm opened
out. The leftarm is extended, curving downward. Together the two
arms form asingle, S-shaped line. Meanwhile B's right arm draws
back, elbowbent, hand at chest level, palm parallel to the torso,
fingers extended.The left arm hangs down in front of the torso. The
partners contem-plate each other over their left shoulders. The
effect is frieze-like.
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Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics 195
9. Taking Aim. Partner A pivots the upper body right, bringing
theright hand around to meet B's cheek. The weight shifts from
rightto left leg. Following a slight otkaz backwards, B leans
toward A,proffering cheek. Hand and cheek almost touch.
10. The Slap. Partner A shifts weight back onto the right leg,
swing-ing the right arm back in a sweeping motion, then forward in
a"slap" which brushes past, but does not touch, B's cheek. B
recoils,clapping hands together to make a slapping sound. The left
arm isflung straight up as the body and head rise to follow, right
handhanging toward the floor. The weight shifts to the right leg,
whichbends slightly as the left hand drops to touch the slapped
cheek. Bgazes upward.
11. Repetition. Using the stance as the otkaz, sequence 6
through 10is repeated with the partners exchanging roles.
12. The Walk. The final sequence. Partners link arms and
promenadein a circle. Their gait is military, almost a march, and
their free armsswing like those of soldiers on parade.
Scenes
During the last week of classes at Tufts, scene work was added
and inte-grated into the work, albeit in rough form. In
preparation, sound and then wordswere included in the exercises.
The scenes were drawn from Antigone, TwelfthNight, The Taming of
the Shrew, and The Tempest, but their focus was physical.Students
enjoyed bringing a Biomechanical dimension to these classic
scenes.Tumbling, stage combat, juggling, gymnastics were
incorporated and combined,as were many of the class exercises.
Because of the pressures of time, studentswere unable to bring the
scenes to completion, leaving the actors somewhatfrustrated.
In evaluating the institute, students expressed tremendous
enthusiasm forthe work and for the instructors. They felt that
while it was very demanding,they had gained immeasurably as theatre
artists; almost all mentioned thatthey hoped to have the
opportunity to continue. All agreed that participatingin a
Biomechanics class was a very different experience from what they
hadenvisioned in reading about the technique.
Most of them anticipated using what they had learned of
Theatrical Bio-mechanics professionally. One of the teachers had
plans for directing acommedia-like farce, utilizing many of the
class exercises both in the staging
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196 Jane Baldwin
and in working with his students. The technique is very useful
in comedy be-cause of its emphasis on rhythm and timing. Two of the
students who teach atSyracuse University, Kathleen Baum and Donna
Inglima, intended to team teacha movement-based acting class.
Dancer Llory Wilson envisaged choreograph-ing a piece which would
bridge the gulf between dance and theatre by usingBiomechanical
movement. And Marianne Kubik, a director who works with
analternative theatre company, had already begun to incorporate
rudimentaryBiomechanical exercises into the rehearsal process, to
which her actors re-sponded enthusiastically.
Production
The institute left us with a question: After a month of
intensive introduc-tory study in Theatrical Biomechanics, how well
can students apply the skillsand principles they have learned to
performance? That is what the company ofthe Phoenix Ensemble set
out to discover when they invited Gennadi Bogdanovto work with
them.5
The Phoenix Ensemble first became acquainted with Bogdanov's
work in1991, when the company brought one of its productions to
GITIS as part of anexchange. During his stay, Paul Knox, artistic
director and actor with the com-pany, audited Bogdanov's class a
few times and became persuaded that theMethod-trained Phoenix
Ensemble actors had much to gain frommovement-based
Biomechanics.
Knox conceived a project with two related objectives: the first,
to expandthe actors' creative possibilities; the second, to put the
training to a practicaltest in a production of Mayakovsky's Banya
(The Bathtub ) in its American trans-lation. This play, directed by
Meyerhold in 1930, would allow the Phoenix ac-tors to use their
Biomechanical training directly and fully.
Bogdanov spent almost five weeks with the company, giving
classes threehours a day, three days a week, with another eight
hours on the weekend. Apartfrom the absence of Karpov, the most
significant difference between the Phoe-nix Ensemble's training and
that at Tufts was the number of hours of classesper weekseventeen
hours for the Phoenix versus thirty at Tufts. However,the fact that
the Phoenix actors were part of an existing company, and that
thetraining was a prelude to a specific undertaking, gave the work
immediacyand a different dynamic.
The Bathtub was mounted by Ivan Popovski, a recent graduate of
GITIS'sfive-year program and a bright star in the rising generation
of Russian direc-tors. Popovski arrived after Bogdanov's departure
and spent his initial time
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Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics 197
observing the Phoenix company performing Biomechanical exercises
and tudesbefore beginning auditions. His knowledge of Bogdanov's
work aided him in
his task, which he viewed as "the con-clusion to the work the
company haddone with Gena" (personal interview).While Popovski does
not consider him-self a strict Meyerhold disciple, he toosubscribes
to a theatre of form and
movement. Like Meyerhold, he be-lieves physical form is the
mediumwhich reveals emotion.
During the first few days,Popovski encountered a number
ofchallenges. Particularly problematicwas the fact of having less
control overthe total production than he has inworking with his own
company. Hispool of actors was both unfamiliar tohim and
circumscribed. The agreementwith Knox stipulated that the castwould
have to be drawn from the Phoe-nix Ensemble. A major reason
forchoosing The Bathtub was that it gavethe company's seventeen
actors theopportunity to participate. Casting ul-timately crossed
gender and raciallines, a pragmatic rather than an artis-tic choice
due to the limited number ofmale actors.
From the Phoenix Ensemble production of TheBathtub by Paul
Schmidt, directed by IvanPopovski. From top to bottom:
EdwardCunningham, Paul Knox, Cecilia Arana, andTony Jackson. Photo:
T. L. Boston.
The difference in training and ex-perience of the Phoenix
Ensemble alsoposed difficulties for Popovski, as didthe rehearsal
period. Six weeks of re-hearsal, generous by American stan-dards,
is far less than the time span towhich he is accustomed. Familiar
with
the original Mayakovsky script, he wasunacquainted with the
American ver-sion. Working in English was also prob-lematic. Albeit
furnished with a trans-lator, Popovski preferred to deal di-
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198 Jane Baldwin
rectly with the actors and was sometimes frustrated by the
limits of his En-glish.
These hindrances, however, were greatly mitigated by the actors
of thePhoenix Ensemble. Their warmth, friendliness, receptivity,
and especially theircommitment impressed Popovski. He recalls: "I
was struck by the joy that theybrought to the work, that kind of
hunger. They gave so much of themselves"(personal interview).
Stimulated by their studies with Bogdanov, the companyentered the
rehearsal process eager to make the transition from the
workshopexercises to production. As a result of the training, they
felt that "their mentaland physical capabilities had been opened up
to what would have been un-imaginable before" (personal
interview).
The actors found it fascinating to connect the physical training
to charac-ter. Despite the fact that creating character through
movement rather than psy-chology was a departure for them, they
responded well to the stretch. For ex-ample, Cathy Daves played Mr.
Yamarama, a caricatured Japanese business-man whose dialogue was
gibberish. Unable to rely on words, the traditionalpoint of
departure for building a role, Daves found Biomechanics had
freed
From left to right: Paul Knox, Edward Cunningham, Cecilia Arana
in The Bathtub. Photo: T. L.Boston.
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Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics 199
her from a naturalistic mindset and allowed her to create a
multifaceted char-
acter. The actors developed an almost directorial awareness of
composition,while their acquired physical prowess allowed them to
take risks which servedthe mise en scne, giving it a life it would
not have had otherwise.
The production was a tribute to Meyerhold. Scenic and costume
designs,which had been prepared before Popovski's arrival and
without his input, wereadaptations of the original. Felix
Filshtinsky's set, a modified version ofMeyerhold's multi-level
constructivist "machine for actors," consisted of scaf-folding,
platforms, stairs, and ladders. Space and budget limitations
necessi-tated downscaling. Nevertheless, the director made good use
of levels and plat-forms; nimbly, the actors scampered, climbed,
lay on and hung from the set,creating a performance where the
visual image was at least as important as thespoken word. Popovski
coordinated historical components of Meyerhold'sproduction as well
as elements of the Biomechanical tudes into a mise en scnethat was
very much his own. The tudes were integrated into the staging
inmuch the same way as ballet exercises are choreographed into a
dance.
Unfortunately, Paul Schmidt's adaptation of Banya was a weak
link in theproject. Like Meyerhold, Mayakovsky espoused political
theatre. With Banya,both playwright and director were treading
dangerous waters, attacking theSoviet bureaucracy and, by
extension, the direction of their society. Recogniz-ing that the
original, with its allusions and complicated punning, would
beincomprehensible for his audience, Schmidt updated and
Americanized the play(Schmidt 68). The issues Schmidt raisesN.E.A.
funding, sexual harassment,the role of art in the U.S., industrial
powerwhile important, are less crucial.Perhaps the pivotal
difference, however, is that Schmidt is writing for an audi-ence of
the convinced. Schmidt's public shares his politics; thus it is
impos-sible for his adaptation to have the same polarizing effect
as Mayakovsky'soriginal.
For the Phoenix Ensemble, the experiment proved successful.
Reviews,while mixed, were more favorable than not. More important
to the companywas their artistic growth. Even within the short
time-frame of their work withBogdanov and Popovski, both their
concept and practice of acting evolved.The skills they acquired
through their Biomechanical training have given themgreater
confidence and have broadened their creative range. Speaking for
hiscompany, Paul Knox describes their greatest gain: "We felt that
we expandedour physical capabilities and built a physical
discipline into which we couldthen bring the emotional life"
(personal interview). They came to believe thatBiomechanics is not
necessarily a discrete discipline and that its external ap-proach
can be synthesized with the psychological technique demanded by
mostof our drama, enriching it. Eager to continue their exploration
of Theatrical
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200 Jane Baldwin
Biomechanics, the Phoenix Ensemble managed to raise sufficient
funds to bringBogdanov back for another month's training in the
summer of 1994.
Bogdanov and Karpov continue to teach internationally as part as
part ofthe campaign they are waging to introduce, develop, and
proliferate Theatri-cal Biomechanics. In the spring of 1996, they
will return to the U.S. to conducta Biomechanical Institute at
Syracuse University.
Jane Baldwin is an Instructor of Theatre at The Boston
Conservatory and theCollege of Holy Cross.
Notes
1. Partial support for the institute was provided by a grant
from the Trust for MutualUnderstanding.
2. New information concerning Meyerhold's arrest and trial has
recently come tolight. While researching material for his book, La
parole ressucite: dans les archiveslittraires du KGB, Vitali
Chentalinski discovered in the archives of Lubyanka Prison aletter
from Vsevolod Meyerhold to Molotov, then Prime Minister of the
Soviet Union,protesting and detailing the vicious physical and
psychological torture he had under-gone at the hands of the secret
police.
3. During the course of the institute, I interviewed instructors
Gennadi Bogdanovand Nikolai Karpov extensively with the assistance
of translator Kathryn Mederos.Having begun their professional
careers during the early 1970s, they were an invalu-able source of
first-hand information about the Soviet theatre of this period.
4. The description and explication of the work is based on my
daily observation ofthe institute's classes as well as in-depth
discussions and interviews with the studentsand teachers over a
four-week period.
5. As part of my research, I interviewed members of the company
as well as viewingthe production.
Works Cited
Barba, Eugenio. A Dictionary of Theatre Anthropology: The Secret
Art of the Performer. London:Routledge, 1991.
Baum, Kathleen. Personal interview. 27 June 1993.
Bogdanov, Gennadi. Personal interviews. 24, 28, and 29 June
1993.
Chentalinski, Vitali. La parole ressucite: dans les archives du
KGB. Trans. Galia Ackermanand Pierre Lorrain. Paris: ditions Robert
Laffont, 1993.
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Meyerhold's Theatrical Biomechanics 201
Inglima, Donna. Personal interview. 29 June 1993.
Karpov, Nikolai. Personal interviews. 19, 24, and 28 June
1993.
Knox, Paul. Personal interview. 12 November 1993.
Kubik, Marianne. Personal interview. 27 June 1993.
Mederos, Kathryn. Personal interview. 2 July 1993.
Meyerhold, Vsevolod. Meyerhold on Theatre. Ed. and trans. Edward
Braun. London: EyreMethuen, 1978.
Popovski, Ivan. Personal interview. 5 December 1993.
Rudnitsky, Konstantin. Meyerhold the Director. Trans. George
Petrov. Ann Arbor: Ardis, 1981.
Schmidt, Paul. Introduction to The Bathtub. Theater 22.2 (1991):
68.
Slonim, Marc. Russian Theatre: From the Empire to the Soviets.
Cleveland: World Publishing,1961.
Wilson, Llory. Personal interview. 25 June 1993.