During our tour of Berliner Ensemble, our tour guide told us that Brecht believed that the person who embodied everything he thought good acting was was his wife. His wife, he said, wasn't afraid to be ugly onstage. As a very self-concious, sometimes mistaken for vain, and insecure person, I find that a real challenge. Probably one of my biggest hurdles as an actor: Overcome the fear of being ugly.
Yesterday, (SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THOSE WHO HAVEN'T SEEN RICHARD III) Lars took all of his clothes off. This wasn't the shocking part. I've seen plenty of nudity on stage and on the screen. But the nudity had never seemed so close, so intimate, so vulnerable. Furthermore, and I hope not to offend anyones sensibilities, Lars' penis wasn't magical, beautiful, or, quite fankly, of an admirable length. Lars' penis was just Lars' penis. Not Michael Fassbender's penis. It was then that that idea of not being afraid of being ugly really hit me. But its so much further than just "ugly" or "pretty" its humanity and vulnerability (which is why the choice to do it nude is so. fucking. great.)
And then some asshat on the balcony took his phone out and started recording. But instead of ignoring him, or shutting down, Lars' called the guy out. He decided to call out this guy who had breached the unspoken pact of trust between audience and performer. The show continued, only after Lars had had his time humiliating the cameraman. A few scenes later, Lars adressed him again, making a joke I didn't quite catch but included the words "my penis" and a hearty laugh.
Bravery to be ugly. And Richard, for sure, as well as Lars' interpretation of him are ugly. Constantly ugly. It's one thing to understand this concept, to know that it's selfish to run away form it. But ugliness, I am starting to think, holds so much more truth than beauty.
You go Lars, you and your kinda weird penis.
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