Now, that is the question
Life as a student artist in college was tough. You need to juggle academics with extracurricular activities and other artistic things, depending on what medium you are practicing. In my case, it was theater. There’s something thrilling about the idea of being part of a production. Learning what happens on stage and behind the curtains gave me a good reason to come to school every day, apart from my boring business course. I was so into theater that it reached a point where I was even more dedicated to it than my undergraduate studies. While I had this “Glee” idea in my head, I know that participating in a theater organization will require hard work. It did—and it asked for more.
There were many late-nights in school just for rehearsals and pre-production activities, and for me, it was fine. A good show demands great effort, that’s the Capricorn in me talking. Eventually, I landed my first directorial work—by accident. I wasn’t delighted about it. I felt I didn’t deserve it. I was not ready and it reflected during pre-production. In one instance, our artistic director came, he looked at the set and he was not happy. To make it clear, he told me, “Kapag kulang pa iyan mga dahon na yan, b*lbu*l mo na ilalagay ko diyan (If those leaves aren’t still complete, your pubic hair will be in them).” I wasn’t really traumatized by it. But what bothered me was that he blurted it out in the middle of the theater. He did it so loud that it caught the attention of our sister dance organization and hit pause on the piano of the rehearsing choir. In short, it was humiliating.
I just shrugged it off. I thought Lea Salonga must have had it worst than I did. It would make me stronger and better, and as many of my theater pals had always said, “Think objectively.” But looking at it now, that can be considered as a toxic workplace practice thespians go through before their opening night. If you think stagefright is the top challenge theater artist must conquer, think again.
In the past months, many emerging theater artists shared their stories online about unfortunate experiences they had in their early days of learning the craft. While many see this harsh theater criticism culture as a way to build a thicker skin for the “real” industry, one must ask: Does it really help artists in honing their craft? Most especially, when does it turn from being constructive to a form of verbal abuse?
In a conversation with Manila Bulletin Lifestyle, Tangahalang Pilipino’s associate artistic director Marco Viaña, and theater and TV actresses Teetin Villanueva and Adrienne Vergara shed more light to this behind-the-scene theater culture and how criticism should be done in today’s performing arts scene.
When does criticism become a form of verbal abuse?
MARCO: When the feedback is directed to the person and not about his/her work, then it becomes a form of verbal abuse. The use of offensive language also qualifies as abuse. It is important for directors, theater teachers, and artist managers to give informed comments to help improve the work or challenge the artists to grow, based on their expected output and not because of personal prejudices. Equally important is the actors/artists’ maturity to listen and accept feedback, dissect the motivation behind it, and see it as an opportunity to improve.
TEETIN: When you can clearly see that the intention of the remark is not to help someone improve on something, rather to intentionally inflict pain. More often than not, it tends to be too personal or even below the belt. When you’re a recipient of criticism, you are somehow pointed toward what is expected of you, you get an idea of what you can work on. When you’re a victim of verbal abuse, you don’t really get anything out of it other than trauma. You’re directionless.
ADRIENNE: It depends on the main of the one who criticizes. If the main purpose is to ridicule, degrade, put malice, or assert one’s authority by power tripping, yes, it’s abuse. Oftentimes, it’s just plain terrorizing under the guise of “instilling discipline.” This is not just about verbal abuse but also physical (and the emotional damage it brings with it), which had been tolerated and eventually normalized. I heard a lot of people saying, “Oh if you can’t handle that, then you don’t deserve to be in the theater.” This has been a common practice for decades now and this culture of fear has to stop. It’s paralyzing and it crushes the creative spirit of everyone. The problem is this is something a practitioner could inherit from one generation to another. Like it’s respawning new little monsters. Funny how some would stage works about fascism, or works about other inhumane violations, yet backstage, you see the same monsters they were fighting against. Of course, I totally understand the heightened emotions like anxiety and stress one experiences, especially during tech week until the very last show. Sometimes, even the nicest people explode during hell week out of extreme exhaustion or frustration, too. I get that. But one still has the choice to stay humane at all times. It’s possible, tried, and tested. If we’re talking about performance criticism, well, this also applies. If the art critic is just spewing insults just for the sake of it without offering any new perspective or ways of seeing the work, it reflects the values the critic upholds more than the artist/s.
What should be done to keep it constructive?
MARCO: Many theater groups provide time and space for communication: By discussing everyone’s expectations during pre-production, by allowing everyone to express their challenges and experiences during the rehearsals and shows, and by providing an opportunity to evaluate the whole experience. These moments allow everyone involved in the production to be reflective of their work and their own actions.
TEETIN: Make sure to highlight what works, what doesn't, and thoroughly explain “why.” We all have different “lenses.” For example, it is possible that the intention of a show/presentation is good, but the execution wasn’t efficient in driving the message. Constructive criticism is important. There is a way to communicate feedback in a way that is not demeaning. You are there as an ally, not as an enemy of the person/s you're giving constructive criticism to.
ADRIENNE: It always has to come from a place of truth and utmost care. I learned from Anne Bogart some helpful pointers on critiquing like: (1) Identifying the “moments” that struck you the most or you find the most meaningful; (2) Using “hats” in offering different perspectives (e.g. as an audience, as a fellow actor, as a 14-year-old kid, etc); and (3) Stating which things you would like to be improved and to offer suggestions or solutions to address these challenges. The keyword is to offer, not to impose. Also, instead of dictating your own preferences or taste, it always pays to ask the big “why.” For example, questions like the following may help open conversations because you opened up debating points. Why use this color? Why situate in a steampunk setting? Why go for site-specific? And the why’s go on. It grounds everything and lets you dive deeper into the context, and it sets up a fertile conversation to have with the artists. A lot of eureka moments usually come out of these kinds of exchanges so the work grows and blooms more. I remember we had a drunken conversation with our Japanese-artist-slash-theater-critic friend, Fujiwara Chikara. We asked him what is good criticism? He answered that for him there are two types of critics. Imagine your work is a boat and the artists are the ones sailing it. Critic One just watches from a port or land area and takes notes on his observation from a distance. Critic Two, on the other hand, sails in another boat in close proximity, decides to swim or dive, too, with the artists, or even offers help in sailing. Between the two, I like Critic Two more. There are a few of them, but I’m really happy to have met some. Such rare gems.
What is the best lesson theater has taught you?
MARCO: Everyone, including myself, is a work in progress just like the characters we study and perform. Audiences witness their flaws, strengths, growth, and character development during the two-hour show, so why is it impossible to accept and let everyone have that opportunity to grow and improve as artists and as human beings.
TEETIN: Aside from “There are no small parts, only small actors” (Konstantin Stanislavsky), rehearsals are just as important as the shows. Grab and relish every single opportunity to learn. And never underestimate the power of kindness, hard work, and patience.
ADRIENNE: Empathy. With empathy, everything follows suit. Theater thrives in the generosity and kindness of the people. A performance is a shared experience, however transient that moment is. It fosters understanding among people that is able to touch souls. It teaches you not to become self-absorbed because Theater is never selfish. It teaches you to be punctual because you respect other people’s time. It also teaches you to be more considerate when others fail or commit a mistake. It also teaches you to be more compassionate and agree on healthy rules. This can only be achieved through mastering empathy. Truth. We learned from our teacher in Acting in PHSA, Ma’am Shamaine Buencamino, that we must stay truthful even in our everyday lives. This one struck me the most because she said it totally reflects in our performance. Yikes. It’s a huge wake-up call. This was also reiterated by Ms. Angeli Bayani in her Meisner Acting class. This could be achieved if we are courageous enough to confront and be totally honest with ourselves and with other people. In a time when our history is being slaughtered and facts are ignored to cater the perpetrators, what a better time to fight for Truth in the way we best know of—through Theater. Magic. Theater has taught me that magic is possible and it’s something we can create ourselves. We have the power to create wonder and surprise. We have the power to transform the most mundane into something extraordinarily magical. Yes, the power of transformation that the Theater offers. We have the power to change and I find it so amazing and inspiring even outside the Theater walls. Magic is only possible though if you’re brave enough to take responsible risks. The more willing you are to fail, the faster you’ll learn. I also believe in the power of beautiful accidents (usually this happens during live performances). Of course, a sprinkle of naughtiness could also go a long way. I still abide by what I personally pledged last 2020, “Makatao at mapagpalayang paglilikha dahil walang diktadurya sa teatro.” We artists have the social responsibility to uphold the values and principles to make this world a kinder, safer, yet more fabulous space for everyone. With these powers combined, the creation of performance becomes a lot of fun to do. Maybe that’s why they called it “play.”
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