by Kirk Woodward
[My friend Kirk Woodward has contributed well over a hundred posts to Rick On Theater since I started the blog—at his suggestion—back in 2009. He’s covered many subjects over those years, from personal reminiscences, play and other performance (most notably, pop music) reports, some history, and lots and lots of theater.
[As readers of ROT know by now, Kirk’s a multi-hyphenate theater person—a playwright, director, occasional actor (see below, for example), composer and lyricist, instrumentalist, theater and acting teacher, theater historian, reviewer and critic, and general commentator. He’s blogged here in all those capacities.
[He’s also, since his younger years, a journal-keeper. Not a few of Kirk’s posts have been based on diaries and journals he’s kept, some dating from as far back as his army service in the early 1970s, and even before. “More Notes on Acting” is one such post.
[Also as ROTters will already know, Kirk, who lives in suburban New Jersey, is very engaged in the life of his community, including, perhaps even especially, the theater life, which is especially rich in his Jersey region. He has written for, directed, acted in, composed for, musical-directed, and accompanied many area productions for numerous local troupes.
[Kirk’s contributions to ROT are too many to list in their entirety anymore. So I’m going to cherry-pick the posts that cover acting specifically one way or another. (Most of Kirk’s post on directing, a long list in itself, also make comments pertinent to acting—so do his play reports—but adding them to the upcoming list would extend it to an unmanageable length.)
[Here, then, are Kirk Woodward’s acting posts in Rick On Theater:
·
“Herbert
Berghof, Acting Teacher” (1 June 2011)
·
“Reflections
On Directing: Actors” (17 April 2013)
·
“Creative
Dramatics” (30 September 2013)
·
“Creative
Dramatics” (30 September 2013) – less about acting than about actors
·
“Memoirs
of a Desperate Actor” (3 March 2015)
·
“Simon
Callow” (23 June 2015)
· “Four Actors”
(30 January 2018)
·
“Notes
from a Sometime Actor” (27 December 2019)
·
“Acting
Class (On-Line Edition)” (4 August 2020)
·
“The Method – a Review” (12 March 2022)
·
“Acting
Notes” (27 April 2022)
· “Bombast to Beckett” (13 January 2025)
[Interested ROTters can find all of Kirk Woodward’s posts by clicking on his name. There are also more articles on ROT about actors and acting by other authors, including me, in those links.]
I have written in this blog before about my experience as an actor in a production of the musical Follies in 2025 directed by the very talented Kristy Graves (“Performance Diary: Follies, Part 1” [15 December 2024] and “Part 2” [18 December 2024]). This year I was cast in the musical Little Women, also directed by Kristy.
The musical is based on the well-known 1868/1869 novel by Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888) about a close-knit family of four daughters and her mother (with the father remaining offstage) with music by Jason Howland, lyrics by Mindi Dickstein, and book by Alan Knee.
Little Women was performed on Broadway for a modest run of 137 performances in 2005. It toured extensively and has been produced numerous times since. It is a “chamber musical” (a small-scale musical theater production characterized by a limited cast, small orchestra, and intimate venue setting) with a cast of ten playing eighteen roles, although it can also be performed by a larger cast.
Our production, like last year’s Follies, was presented at the Women’s Club of Glen Ridge, New Jersey. It had two performances, on April 9 and 12, 2026. I played the small role of Mr. Lawrence in the play.
Our rehearsal period had its ups and downs, like pretty much every production. The “downs” are not my subject in this article, but I will briefly summarize some of them:
· Space availability was a problem, apparently the reason we gave only two performances. Since the space was available for rental by outside groups, we frequently had to clear the space completely after a rehearsal, which led to some late evenings. Also because of space availability, we had to hold the earlier rehearsals in the director’s living room.
· We performed the show in a lovely second floor ballroom, with the stage area on one of the shorter walls, and the small orchestra located outside the room beyond a side double door. This was an excellent setting for the home scenes which made up most of the play, but since we were in a room, not on a stage, the backdrop could not be changed when, for example, the characters were on a beach, indicated by their sitting on a blanket.
· Acoustically the room was close to an echo chamber. No amplification was necessary (or affordable), but voices bounced around the room. Visually, since the room was a ballroom with a level floor, visibility from the rear seats was limited. (As a result Kristy did her best not to have characters sit if she could avoid it.)
· As always, actors’ time was limited, making it difficult to schedule rehearsals. Kristy had to make major overhauls of the rehearsal schedule twice due to shifting commitments. She held up under the strain, but it must have been difficult.
Offsetting these difficulties was the nature of the “family” in the show – all high school students, plus Kristy as the mother (Susan Knight Carlin provided a second directing eye). Every one of the school-age women was talented, skilled at singing and dancing, and thoroughly professional at things like learning their lines and being on time. [Susan Knight, as she prefers to be called professionally, is mentioned in “Performance Diary: Follies, Part 1” and “Acting Class (On-Line Edition)” (4 August 2020).]
They were a delight to work with and a challenge to us older people. They made me feel there was hope for the future. During one “notes” session I glanced over the shoulder of one of the students, who was doing her Physics homework on a tablet. Physics!
I played Mr. Laurence, the crochety grandfather of one of the boys in the play, and it’s my experience in that role that I’m writing about here, because it taught or reminded me of a number of things about acting.
I should explain that directing and playwriting, not acting, have been my major interests in theater. I took acting classes and did a moderate bit of performing onstage in the 1970’s, but little acting after that until recently. I did however teach acting, and I’m happy to report that I’ve found the things that I taught to be sound.
However, doing them is something else, and here I will describe mistakes I made (that I know of) and things I learned, or re-learned. I suppose and hope that professional actors know all these things already, but actors at my level and non-actors and non-theater people who are curious about the work might find this interesting.
IMAGES – When I was asked to play the role of Mr. Laurence, I did exactly what I’ve told acting classes for years not to do. I read the play hunting for the scenes I was in (there were five), basically ignoring the rest. I had never read the novel and had only the vaguest idea of its story, and I never really caught up with the plot until the first run-through.
That is bad enough. Not yet having the script, I skimmed through the play online, hunting for the scenes I was in. But there’s worse. Gathering that Mr. Laurence was a difficult, cranky old man, I immediately formed an image of what a difficult, cranky old man would be like. (I had little problem with the “old” part.)
What’s wrong with that? The question is, what’s right with it? Over a hundred years ago, the director and teacher Konstantin Stanislavski (1863-1938), followed by numerous others, stressed the importance of the actor’s developing a character “from the inside,” from what the character wants and what the character does to get what it wants.
To ignore this – to begin with an “image,” or in other words a cliché – is to turn a specific character into a generalized, unmoored notion of an unspecific person. If we think about it even a moment we realize what a bad idea this is. My two grandmothers and grandfathers were utterly unlike each other. We are all individuals. That’s part of what drama often wants to teach us.
I ignored it and spent most of the rehearsal period trying to undo the image and work from the specifics of my character.
ONE THING AT A TIME – As a director, a few years ago I began to believe it’s important that actors be given a goal for each rehearsal (or section of a rehearsal), something they can focus on, such as “Tonight we’ll only be working on the words of the script,” or “For this run-through please just concentrate on in-the-moment contact with the person you’re talking to.” [Kirk addresses this same practice from a director’s point of view in “All’s Well That Ends Well Production Notes, Part 2” (29 November 2025).]
The effect of this approach is to reduce strain for the actors, keeping them from trying to do everything at once. Practically speaking their acting improves a great deal under these conditions, because they’re not worrying about it – their focus is elsewhere, on whatever the director has pointed them to.
Given the role of Mr. Laurence, though, I completely forgot this idea, and tried to do everything at each rehearsal. I should have applied what I learned as a director and set myself a goal for each rehearsal – “this time just focus on your lines,” “this time really listen to the other actor.” I finally caught on, but late in the process.
This approach reminds me of what I’ve read about the film directing technique of Clint Eastwood (b. 1930), who dislikes re-shooting a scene and has been known to film a scene’s rehearsal, unbeknownst to the actors, and use it in the finished movie. He wants to remove the stress of acting from the performers as much as possible, and the same is true of the idea I have described here.
The next points are common currency, but I again saw their importance and I feel they’re worth mentioning.
KEY POINTS – My daughter Heather tells me she realized this idea in drama school; it came to me much later, and yet surely it’s obvious: an actor should identify which points in a scene must be made clear to the audience, so it can follow the story with security.
Sometimes these moments are difficult to miss – “I’m going to kill you someday,” that sort of thing. Sometimes they are quite subtle, and yet the play may not make sense without them. It’s best, I’d think, to start from the obvious and work to the more hidden. At the back of an actor’s mind should be the need to make sure the points are clearly made.
I’m guessing this idea is probably not taught in many acting schools, where the emphasis may be on what the character is feeling and wanting. That’s fine and important, but somewhere along the line the needs of the play and the audience ought to be addressed. Once the “plot points” are identified by the actor, they don’t need to be dwelled on – just presented clearly.
WHAT JUST HAPPENED? – Many scenes grow out of some earlier scene that the audience doesn’t witness. Those earlier scenes are fuel for the actor. In my first scene in Little Women, I have just seen, out my window, one of the girls next door chopping down one of my trees and dragging it into her house for a Christmas tree.
This fact should be – and was – enough to send me charging into the next scene, in which I confront the family and the girl, who is standing next to the tree. A piece of cake! – if I’ve made the preceding moment clear to myself, and refreshed it just before I go on stage.
DISCOVERIES – Because as actors we learn lines, we subconsciously come to think of a scene as a series of things that inevitably have to be thought or said. At least it often feels that way. However, for the characters in the play, none of those things have happened yet, and many of the things that characters do and say are motivated by discoveries, new realizations about something.
There may be only a few of those discoveries in a scene, or as many as several times in a single line of dialogue – it all depends on the play. If as actors we identify those discovery moments in advance, then when they come up we can let the discovery “hit” us as though for the first time, think our way through it (very fast, usually), and respond more freshly than we otherwise would.
Because we had a week-long break in rehearsals due to school vacations, I had leisure to go over these points using the script and to try and get them into my mind. I tried to work methodically with these points in mind, and found it difficult to stick to the program – my acting habits, as opposed to my directing habits, were deeply ingrained, or, possibly, just needed developing.
(On the other hand, I can’t help thinking these limitations in my acting skills have helped me as a director, because I seldom if ever have the impulse to show an actor how something should be done, a practice that is widely frowned on today. I do like the story about the director George Abbott (1887-1995), who, criticized for giving an actor line readings, replied, “How else will they know what I want?” [See “George Abbott” (14 October 2018).])
A few more observations:
Kristy, our director, has a remarkable ability to work on many things at once. As a result she at least visibly takes calmly things that would drive me to distraction. As I’ve already said, she is an excellent director, with a creative approach to a script, a fine visual sense, and a straightforward way of working with actors. I’d enjoy seeing how she directed under relatively calm conditions.
Possibly because of time constraints, there was relatively little feedback on performances up to the last couple of rehearsals, not a lot of comment on how things were going one way or the other. I had no idea whether people thought I did a good job or were just putting up with me. However, I realized that I was happy not getting specific praise because I felt it would make me wonder whether I could repeat that good thing I’d done, or not.
Final rehearsals went the way they usually do – the lights were a day late arriving, we tried to work straight through the show each night but had to stop to fix thi, and the focus became more and more on opening night and not on that particular night’s rehearsal.
On the daily schedule updates that Kristy sent out during the last week (“production week”), the last item read “Clean (?).” I assumed that meant straightening up the mess that always accumulates backstage in theater productions. I should have realized that what she meant was, “Clean up whatever small problems remain to be fixed.”
I adopted two mottos for keeping myself in focus during our final rehearsals. The first was “clarity and calmness” – that is, focus on what my character was doing, and breathe.
The second came when my friend Janet Aldrich, who has had a major theater career including Broadway, walked by muttering to herself, “In the moment.” That’s a phrase that actors often use; it means to be there each moment in a scene, not thinking about something else. Like everything else, it takes work to get in that frame of mind, but it definitely helped me concentrate.
One thing I made it a point to do was to thank the orchestra and the lighting operator for their contributions. I’ve played in the orchestra for a couple of high school shows, and we had no connection with the casts of those shows at all, which I don’t think is a healthy condition. The people who support the production should not be taken for granted.
My friend Annie asked if I felt jitters before performances, so I tried to understand how I actually did feel at those times. On the surface, my principal feeling was curiosity – I wondered how it all would go. Underneath, I suspect, was a deep reservoir of panic, but if so it never became conscious. I knew I had worked diligently on the project; I just hoped that was enough.
Hopefully there comes a time when a difficult task turns into an enjoyable experience. A great deal of the satisfaction of theater comes at the end of it, after a great deal of work. On the day we opened, driving here and there, thinking about the show, I found myself thinking, “I love this!”
I didn’t love, quite as much, the mistakes I made in the first performance – two involving lines, and one when I took off a costume too soon and couldn’t sing onstage in a chorus number (I sang just offstage). The second and last performance, I was almost letter perfect. That’s show business!