How (not) to Direct

Quite simply: don't.
Do not.
Do not direct.
End stop.

Seriously though, the more the director is able to get out of the way of the actors, the better off we will all be.
Because the director's job is to provide avenues of expression.
Possibilities for the actors to create and collaborate imaginatively in the most exciting ways.

Now, that is only necessary when the actors are not doing it for themselves.

So the first thing I learned as a director was to stop directing.

My first show was a little number called Tongue Tied.
About two people meeting in a doctor's waiting room that have this beautiful affliction of voicing their inner monologues through sock puppets.
By the end the sock puppets are highly 'compatible' and the two of them decide to give love a shot one more time.

I put the actors on a couch, had a single light, and still messed it up.
Working inside of those microscopic limitations proved to be a wonderful sandbox.
I suggest everyone try it for their first play.
Or anything similar.

However, I directed it into the ground, talking about theory, wondering what each line meant, choreographing the hands until no one knew what was happening.
It was a pretty spectacular failure on my part.
And yet the play came together opening night and I wondered what I did to make it work.

I did not get to direct again for a number of years.
Then, I sunk my teeth into Three Sisters.
And I loved it.
We played for hours.
Ensemble building for days.
When we did run the scenes, I let it run its course.
When it died, we stopped, I asked what went wrong, we tried it again this time with me leading people through physical space and creating dynamic action all the while.
It felt like orchestration; I could see bodies in space, placing the actors, and letting them react off one another.
The playing created the attitude, the specific blocking created the vessel.
By opening night, the play happened.
Again, I wondered.

Midsommer's occurred immediately after Three Sisters.
This time there was some twenty hours of rehearsal.
We had no time for play or anything else.
We blocked, staged, and lit that show in no time and...
The play happened.
It was rough, rather unpolished, I was still giving notes closing night.
But it happened.

We arrive at Faust(us), my latest endeavor.
I took my observations for the past few shows and I learned a lot.
(I will relate more once it closes).
So I did a thing.
The first hour of every rehearsal was spent playing games.
Any game.
Just playing.
No acting, no directing, just play.
Why?
Because that is what I have discovered about plays.

If you can play together, if you can relate on some other level than line readings, you will succeed.
Not even can succeed, will.
Because you trust that the other person will not break.
You trust your impulses because you suspect how they will respond.
You suddenly are aware of each other in space, time, and story.
It becomes a game, another game.

And it has nothing to do with directing the play.
Telling a clear story.
Or making it accessible.
It only has to do with the nature of why we do this in the first place:
We call it a 'play'.