Mordcha, The Innkeeper

Dressing Room madness....

Recording Fiddler

Islington, North London.
Brilliant Studio.
Monday morning. 11 am.
My first cast recording. Pretty thrilling.

Began with Tradition at 11, Henry in the booth, the rest of us outside with the band, singing into four strategically placed microphones. Hardly anyone was awake at the very un-theatrical hour of 11 am, but the excitement and pride soon gave us the necessary boost. After about three-ish takes with a few stops and starts, we all (including the band!) piled in to the sound booth to have a listen, and it was remarkable. What a powerful vocal company we have, and what a brilliant band! The arrangements came to life, the sense of pride and celebration rang from the speakers!


Observing everyone's faces... such a quiet pride, a swelling of the inner oceans, were evident in everyone's eyes. It is a beautiful piece of theatre, a glorious triumph, and we could hear it. My inner ocean swells recalling it.

We returned to the studio to record The Dream and Sabbath Prayer, and the women were released for an early lunch while the men recorded L'Chaim. After lunch we returned to tackle Sunrise, Sunset, and it was soon time to head off to the theatre. What an exhausting and exhilarating day!

* * *
Tuesday morning.
Bright and early.
10 am, in to record the solos. Yikes! (I'm not exactly a prima donna but that is one early hour to record for posterity...)

First Now I Have Everything which Damian licked in two takes. (He really, quite seriously, got it in one take, but they did a second for good measure). Amazing.

Frances and Natasha then arrived for Matchmaker which took a bit of time to adapt for a "radio" audience. We had to play around with the dialogue, the reactions and laughter, tone down the Yiddish accents slightly. It was fairly complicated, but we found it. Incredible the difference having to act for the microphone creates. I suppose the big lesson here is that one cannot act directly with the other actors in the room, the performance rings untrue, sounds too large and falsely theatrical. One has to act with the microphone itself, communicate with it as you would the people you are speaking to, whilst also viewing the microphone as the ear of the listener. It takes practice, especially with the dialogue.

I have to say it. Recording Far From the Home I Love was one of the most harrowing experiences of my professional life. As a perfectionist, I have been plagued for weeks by the idea of "eternity," and picturing students, professionals, and critics in years to come playing this recording on some history of musical theatre radio program; comparing it to the Original Cast Recording, to the Revival Cast Recording, to the Japanese Recording, etc. I had a vision of a younger version of myself sitting on a bunk bed at Interlochen listening to it and dissecting it, forming opinions-- just like I did with the likes of Audra McDonald and Barbara Cook.

It has been pretty intense inside the head of Al Silber.

So Larry Blank (our amazing arranger, and also director of the recording), sensing stress, took me aside before we began, and told me to just do it. "Just do what you do..."

... And so it was done.
Without too much stress.
And I wasn't unhappy with it, though it will never be THAT performance... you know the one... the perfect one inside your head...? That's the one.

Henry embraced me afterwards (in his usual full bear hug...a little misty may I add), and whispered, "you break me every time, girl...Well done." From him, from the man who "topples Topol", and from one perfectionist to another, this moment floored me. I don't know how else to articulate it.

So here it is.
The 2007 Cast Recording of Fiddler on the Roof.
On sale at Dress Circle and from the theatre.
Have a Listen And do let me know what you think.

Affinity

Heartsick about my book, (Affinty by Sarah Waters). I cannot even describe how palpabile my disappointment feels. I was finishing the book in bed when the sky opened up rather phenomenally. Torrents of rain pelted down onto the hot London rooftops creating steam!

The thing is, I fell in love with the book. I highlighted passages, I copied them into my journal. I read them aloud to myself. I wandered around London lovesick; intoxicated by it's pages. It was shaped and formed my days, created a quickening in my mind.

And there was a sting in the book's ending. A real sting. An unwanted twist. A double cross I wasn't expecting, but moreover, I didn't want in the least. The book made me believe in magic, you see, it made me belive in true love and in a world beyond our own. It named my grief. It was personal.

And just as Sarah Waters had me, she took hold of my trusting heart and squashed it like a bug. I was crestfallen, and felt genuinely abused by her insouciance. As if she was saying to me "haha silber! magic and true love and the spiritual world don't exist! But I really had you didn't I? I really comforted you and made you believe. What a fool you are. Who else but a fool would invest in 300 pages of rubbish? Gotcha."

The sky reflected my feelings perfectly.

So I feel London has turned against me today. London... The Big Smoke... it has stubbed me out like a ciggarette. Perhaps it is just a matter of taking up a non-fiction...

It has become increasingly remarkable to me how constant dissatisfaction is in life. And to add insult-- sometimes I feel as though the MORE one has "everything" the more empty the feeling... but perhaps it is merely that these "everythings" don't hold the all powerful positions you once imagined they would.

It is also remarkable how yearning takes us over. But I suppose it is what personally drives me to accomplish most things, this yearning.

I am just sorry Sarah Waters has stomped on my heart.

London Still

Reading the most extraordinary book! Affinity by Sarah Waters. Waters, who has so touched my heart before, has reached right down inside me and tugged, squeezed on, and pulled open my heart. I marvel at how the pages seem to fill my days with beauty and meaning and sorrow and tenderness.

... So many things play upon my mind lately-- keep me restless at night! I have come to the Embankment gardens to search out clarity, perhaps recognition of the swarming in my head, so i might ease it. But as usual, I am faced with so many distractions, and not enough down time in which to fully explore.

I feel dreadfully isolated and simultaneously cramped. London. Perhaps... but how unfair of me to be cross with London when it has been so good to me, offered me a place to thrive.

Just now I felt the rumble of the underground beneath my body here on the grass! It has made the trees throw pollen as if in celebration.

A peculiar man has approached me to ask if I am an artist. I tried to be very kind and gracious but felt desperate for him to leave me alone. I think an earlier version of myself might have viewed him more histrionically. I might have made him a living angel, a messenger, a guide. Now I don't know what I think.

Ah. There is that rumble again. This time more ominous.

The Zoo

A birthday treat...

It is important to know the difference between a pelican and a flamingo. 

This is key.

... Disappointment is a bitter thing... 

Twenty Four

This has been a strange year. Being 24. Twenty Four. The same number of hours in a day. This has been the first year I have experienced the sensation of AGE and time passing by. Hello smile line. Hello there. You are NEVER going to get fainter or smaller, you will only get deeper. You signify 24 years of smiling. Hello forehead. When I raise my eyebrows (often), you used to bounce right back. Now you don't. You will never bounce back again.

There comes a point where being young is no loner an excuse one can use (with others or with oneself) for ignorance, for incompetency, for emotional outbursts. There is a point when asking for guidance from "grownups" is no longer appropriate, because you are now also an adult... when did that ol' swticheroo occur...? And I realised just the other day, that I have reached this point, and it really frightens me. You are really on your own, and accountable, forever.

I suppose I am simply mourning the loss of childhood for good. (And I guess I'm also a little peeved because mine was cut so short by the Dad incident, and one never gets it back...) It's just a long spread of adulthood ahead, filled with unknowns, anti-wrinkle creams and possibilities... I haven't come to terms with any of it.

Theatre.com Interview

Check it out at:
Theatre.com Interview

A wonderful, rich and rewarding conversation with Matt Wolf. So satisfying to discuss theatre and life with such an intelligent and inspired man. I hope I get to meet him in person someday.

Enjoy.

Ask Al: The British Drama School Experience

A few months back I received an email from a totally lovely, eloquent and hopeful high school student named Matthew. He was curious and crafty enough to do his research and he randomly found and contacted me through my website to ask me a few questions about training at The RSAMD. This got me thinking: if Matthew is out there, and has questions I can answer, perhaps my answer to him could serve to help others out there with similar concerns and queries. Thus! I have decided to start a new serial entitled Ask Al; in which I post a real-life question and answer correspondence (edited for privacy of course), in the hopes of helping, enlightening, or perhaps merely entertaining, other inquiring minds out there. Enjoy. And Ask Away!

* * *

Dear Alexandra,
My name is M. I am an aspiring actor at the high-school level and was wondering if you would be kind enough to share with me your impressions and thoughts about your training at The RSAMD? I would be very grateful. Thank you so much for your time.
Sincerely Yours,
M

* * *

Dear M,

All British training is different, yet for the most part follows the same principles. For example, most Drama Schools begin the training with a study of Naturalism, and devote the entire first year of study to what most consider to be the most truthful and basic style of acting. (The dictionary defines Naturalism as "a movement in theater, film, and literature that seeks to replicate a believable everyday reality, as opposed to such movements as Romanticism or Surrealism, in which subjects may receive highly symbolic, idealistic, or even supernatural treatment.")

But all this being said, every drama school is always evolving, and I can only speak to RSAMD's methods, and hope that it serves a good enough example to ask appropriate questions of other schools.

RSAMD is very encouraging with their students, but they are also quite realistic and at times provide more "tough love" than nurturing. I personally like this. No soft stuff for me! I feel that life is too short to go through it with delusions, and RSAMD instructors provide a decent balance of inspiration and realism.

Example of nurturing inspirational teaching would be The Voice and Movement Project-- this comes in the middle of your second year as a culmination of your voice and movement training up until that point in the course. The instructors leave you alone for 3 weeks to work with your group of 4 or 5, and create a piece of 30 minute theatre based loosely around a theme. The parameters require each member of the group to perform two contrasting pieces of text within the piece (prose, speech, song, a duologue with another member of the group, etc) and to use their movement training to the height of your capability. The instructors leave you alone to create, but check in daily to both encourage and stimulate your development.

Example of tough love would be around the final year acting showcase for agents in both Glasgow and London. The advisors are VERY clear about making sure you are as both world aware and self aware as possible. What I mean by this is A) that you understand the nature of an incredibly difficult business to break in to, that you understand that you are performing in that showcase not to show off, not to display what you are fully capable of, but to get an AGENT. And the only way to do that is to show yourself excelling in what you would be cast in tomorrow. (for me, at RSAMD, I always played the BIG lady parts-- things I won't do professionally for 20 years. Since I've left, naturally I have been hired to play young ingenues.... that's how life is. Despite the confusion of some of my classmates, I showed off my ingenue-ness in the showcase and look at where I am now. My other classmates were not so lucky). They make it very clear what you are good at, and what your weaknesses are. I think that is helpful. I always want to know where I can continue to make improvements. But they aren't exactly soft about it.

As far as acting methods go... the training for the most part is based (and I mean that in the purest sense of the word) on naturalism-- stanislavsky, etc. The first year final productions are usually Russian realism plays (Chekhov, Gorky, etc), and the styles advance from there. I suppose the theory is the same as singers or dancers: a dancer who trains in ballet can dance any style, a singer who trains in classical music can usually sing any style... the theory holds for classical acting too.

But saying that, the training is largely process-to-production based. There are units of work that slightly alter annually. First Year is Realism/Naturalism (Chekhov, Ibsen, etc), the Second Year begins with Ancient Classics (The Greeks), followed by New Writing, followed by Shakespeare/Elizabethan/Jacobean theatre. Third Year you study more advanced theatre styles: Theatre of Alienation (Brecht), Theatre of Catastrophe (Howard Barker is a favourite at RSAMD), Theatre of the Absurd (Ionesco), a bit of New Writing, and some light film and TV studies. It is a theatre course, don't be fooled. I did my first film last year and was CLUELESS (it actually came out in the USA yesterday, it's called 1408).

If you are concerned about pretension, RSAMD's INSTRUCTORS are the furthest thing away from that. I cannot guarantee what one's classmates could potentially be like. We had a few GEMS in my class. On the whole, I think the school benefits from being away from London, from the heart of the BRITISH theatre scene. There is less pressure, less of a show-biz feel. It is really just about great training. And the Scottish theatre scene is vibrant and beautiful in a very real way. The down side is that one isn't always as prepared as one could be for the "real world" of being a professional (most likely out of work) actor. It's a tough life, even when you are doing well.

Best of luck! I hope that is helpful.

Sincerely Yours,

Al x

Tomm's Fiddler Picture

Fiddler on the Roof West End Press Night

I think it is worth mentioning that the sizzle i felt during the climax of Tradition and the applause at the end of The Wedding Dance, were unlike anything I have ever experienced. Ever.

So.
After much toil, a lovely evening...

The Embassy Club, Mayfair
29 May 2007

The Red Shoe

So.
What I think is really great after a bad day at the office, where The Ghost of Jerome Robbins is giving our poor little company a lot of grief, is making fun of Jerome Robbins by (flawlessly?) executing THE West Side Story kick on the Aldgate East underground platform...

... ONLY to watch in total horror as my brand new adorable red pump FLIES off my foot, over the crowd and on to the TRACKS...

All hundred or so people on the platform stare. They stare and shift slightly. Will anyone do something? Shall we all just glance away? And I am frozen. Frozen, staring at my shoe in a "THAT DIDN'T JUST HAPPEN... OP! YES IT DID" way.

What to do???!

Damian goes to fetch help. A wooden broom handle, someone's cane, anything...

The only reason I got it back was because a steaming drunk guy (named Chris) singing "Happy Birthday To MEEEE! I'm 18 TODAAAAAY!!!!!" -- was too drunk to remember the tracks are in fact ELECTRIFIED. He jumped down on to the tracks, the crowd gasped (possibly because Chris might DIE on his 18th birthday...)

He jumped right down on the tracks, stumbled horribly, caught his balance, knelt down, grabbed the shoe...
... then jumped right back up.

"There you go!" he says, "Woo hoo! I'm 18 today!!!"

...and the crowd applauded! Victory.

So. Chris not dead.
Shoe retrieved.
...Absolutely fine that one.

Photography: Hannes & Tamar

Stadtpark: Hannes & Tamar
21 April, 2007
Stadtpark: A Berlin & London based acoustic duo - Guitar, Vocals, Clarinet, Flute, Bass Clarinet, Baritone Sax.







www.myspace.com/stadtpark

www.alexandrasilberphotography.com