I began with my favorite of Brecht's essays, a short piece in which he writes about the passing of fellow German playwright, Frank Wedekind.
Haven't heard of him? You may be surprised to hear he is the man who made this possible (I'm sorry to hyperlink that image, but I couldn't allow the Littleworld to be associated with that show). About 100 years ago, Wedekind wrote the play that the musical Spring Awakening was based on. Because I've already gotten off topic enough, suffice it to say that I am not a big fan of the musical. Perhaps some day I'll write more thoroughly about this in the Littleworld.
What Brecht admired most about Wedekind was, simply, his vibrancy. He remarks on hearing Wedekind sing:
"A few weeks ago... he sang his songs to guitar accompaniment in a brittle voice, slightly monotonous and quite untrained. No singer ever gave me such a shock, such a thrill. It was the man's intense aliveness, the energy which allowed him to defy sniggering ridicule and proclaim his brazen hymn to humanity, that... gave him this personal magic."
Now, when it comes to acting, I'm a sucker for technique. I like to think that everything I do on stage has been thoroughly crafted and thought out before it's done. I spend far too much time sitting around, analyzing the script, poring over it until every single word makes sense. But what Brecht has hit on in Wedekind's work is that all the technique in the world -- all the planning and theorizing and deliberating -- will mean absolutely nothing without passion.
This applies to everything artistic. The best examples I can think of are in music: Metal guitarists like Yngwie Malmsteen have a technical guitar prowess is undeniable, but what lasting impact have they had on music? Have you even heard of Yngwie Malmsteen? By contrast, the great blues guitarists and singers of the 20th century, the men who laid the foundation for all rock music, played a few chords and piled their emotion into their music. They had skill, of course, but their energy, their personality, their attitudes, their joy and their sorrows were right there in the songs -- THAT'S what made it worth listening to. And that's why, though you may not have heard of names like Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, Buddy Guy, Leadbelly, Son House, you have undoubtedly heard their impact if you listen to music written after the 50's.
Unless all you listen to is metal. Then you can suck it.
I can tell when an actor's not having fun on stage or on film. I am always baffled by this phenomenon. If you're not having fun... what are you doing? Show business (along with all other artistic endeavors) is far too fickle to be holding out hopes of fame and fortune if you're not having a good time. The thrill of creating is one that can never be taken from you by a director, record producer, casting agent, gallery owner, or critic. Hold on to it tightly.
I will leave you with a few links. First, young Buddy Guy. Tell me there isn't something delightfully captivating about his complete and utter immersion in his music.
Second, a Chuck Berry and John Lennon colloboration. Not the blues, but I smiled so much watching this video that I had to include it.
Finally, I think I will make a habit of including sound bites from things that I hold near and dear to my heart. Last post it was Animal House, this post it's Starfox 64: The most quotable video game ever. This website is extremely comprehensive. If you're a fan of the game, check it out.
And if you're not, then you can suck it.
