The Acting of Angry Actions
Stage combat may extend to a full-cast medieval multi-weapon fight in a production of Henry IV or be as simple as a single slap. When done right it brings a level of excitement to the play unreachable by the use of words alone. When done poorly, the scene drags, it looks hokey, and the actors are in danger of getting injured.
“Stage combat is the simulation of violent actions specific to the production requirements of a play.” Let’s parse out my little definition.
Stage combat is the simulation … for it is not real violence. It is also not stunt work nor martial arts nor fighting with pulled punches. We are creating an illusion, just as does a magician.
… of violent actions … which is not the same as violent intent. An action with a violent consequence might come out of either anger or accident, so it could be found in a comedy as well as in a drama. Violent actions without violent intent are the hallmark of slapstick and the bread and butter of all of those home video TV shows].
… specific to the production requirements … these will change from show to show, so the way a punch is performed in one show may need to be modified considerably for another, even if performed by the same actors portraying the same characters.
… of a play. The techniques are designed for use in a live theatrical scripted play. There are a different set of techniques for film, as there are another set for live-action stunt shows. Stage combat exists as a storytelling tool for theatre.
Physical violence on stage is most effectively used when the words alone are insufficient to contain the overflow of emotions that the character feels. But that doesn’t mean that the actors can give themselves over to those feelings. Sometimes they want to, because they enjoy “feeling”. But try to explain that what the character feels is one reality, one that must be transmitted to the audience. The actor, one the other hand, is the pilot of that character, modulating his own actions so that the audience can follow the story. Whether the actor feels anything is beside the point. Examples from theatre abound. I once watched a show in which a charming young couple were performing a love scene and it was absolutely true to life. The more and more intimate the conversation became, the quieter their voices dropped until they were barely murmuring to each other. Of course it was uncompromisingly real; lovers do create a miniature universe in which nothing else exits – but the audience couldn’t hear one blessed word they said. The actors were performing selfishly, precisely because they were being so truthful.
In a good musical, characters speak until the emotions become so intense that mere words would normally fail, so the music becomes the vehicle by which these heightened and sometimes conflicting emotions can be shared. But the true physical response to intense emotion is usually to restrict the throat and to begin to hyperventilate, hardly actions conducive to producing dulcet tones. In the same way, a dance is usually a way of expressing a burst of emotion that normally exists only inside someone’s heart. In order to fully express them, the dancer must have complete control of his body. So we know that acting/performing always has to provide the identifiable shape of a real human response, but expressed and controlled in such a way as to transmit it meaningfully to the audience.
That’s what stage combat is. We are actors telling the story about some angry people without getting angry ourselves. We tell about a very traumatic episode while staying relaxed inside so that we can tell it.
In a very well written play, an instance of violence occurs because the emotional tension of the characters has reached a breaking point. Words alone no longer suffice in order to control these powerful emotions, and finally they explode into movement. Even a tiny attempt at a shove must have that reality behind it if we want the audience to believe it.
And now for a slight digression, I’d like to mention the one good reason why you should consider not doing stage combat. To be honest, most plays are not very well written. Too often, playwrights use a slap to the face or some-such in order to “cap” a particularly dramatic verbal confrontation. Where do all of these slaps come from? Certainly not from life. I’ve been in and seen hundreds of heated arguments, most of them fully abusive in tone and terminology and several far worse than anything I’ve read in a script. No one ever slapped the other in the face. Attempted choking, sure; scissors thrown, plates hurled, wild punches and flailing kicks galore, but no slaps. I’m sure it happens, and have heard of a couple of first-hand reports, but my point is that in film and on stage it has become like the poisons of Shakespeare – used to move the plot along but really a theatrical convention rather than something found in real life.
And yet we’re stuck with the slap (or, if it’s two men in a movie, the single punch to the face). Usually the pattern is –
a] argument starts
b] argument escalates
c] slap or punch occurs
d] argument stops or takes a new direction
– and it’s pretty obvious that the violence is there because the playwright simply found it to be the easiest way to get from point “b” to point “d”. We as actors are supposed to make it work, and we usually do, by committing fully to the give and take of the emotional buildup. But what if we find that we can take the plot to that new direction that the playwright wanted without having to resort to the slap? My guess is (and experience has been) that when we do, the moment resonates with the audience as being more truthful and therefore more affecting than by resorting to the cheap trick of a false action.
What I’m trying to say is that any bit of business or even any line of dialogue exists in service to the play. If it propels the plot forward, great. But if the same information can be presented without the action, why slow down the play by insisting on performing it? We cut lines from shows all the time for that very reason. We should be ready to do so with actions as well. Remember that a theatre audience doesn’t pay to hear certain lines or to see a fight. They pay to see characters deal with issues and how that changes them.
Stage combat is similar to comedy in that they both require absolutely precise timing and subtle nuance. They also share the fact that actors want to do them by being big and frenetic. Most stage fights that I have seen performed for live theatre have been both badly executed and the participants have no idea how much real danger they are in. Too much stage combat is being choreographed by people not specifically trained in the discipline, or worse, the actors are allowed to simply improvise their way through the fight.
There is no way that anyone can learn stage combat by reading a book or watching a video, anymore than someone could learn how to drive a car by reading an instruction manual. Stage combat is only learned from the careful coaching of a competent instructor who is there to guide the student. The student does not learn from mimicking the instructor; real learning takes place when the instructor can correct the tiny mistakes and habits which the student can’t help but make. The instructor makes every lesson more and more challenging, providing not only new information and new techniques but also those invaluable opportunities to learn from mistakes as ideas are translated into action. An experienced stage combat instructor will look at ten students performing the same technique and give ten different corrections. No book or video can possibly do that.
If you want to learn stage combat, get serious training directly from an experienced instructor, preferably one certified as such by the Society of American Fight Directors. I say this even though I know that there are hundreds of extremely capable, competent and brilliant instructors and choreographers out there who are not affiliated with the SAFD. And there are also just as many that have gone through the Society’s entire training, test well enough to get their certification, but are simply bad when it comes to dealing with actors and directors. As with all professions, being associated with a large organization is still no guarantee of competence, and some of the best choreographers have never so much as taken one class from the SAFD.
So why do I still suggest going through them? With a large national organization such as the SAFD that maintains a uniform set of standards for instruction in the different disciplines, you can rest assured that that someone who certified in broadsword and shield in Iowa in 1992 was exposed to the same information as someone who certified in Florida in 2005. And because you are not likely to have much time to interview and test out a number of candidates, its a great benefit to know that the Society does expose their members to far more than is available to the average person with an interest in fighting. And that is ultimately what you want to find – someone who can see the danger points well before anyone is actually in danger. When the actors know that they are not going to get hurt nor hurt anyone else, they feel free to continue to act during the fight, instead of clenching their teeth and bulging their eyes in terror.
The titles for this person are varied and are usually used interchangeably, which is why I prefer to be known as the “fight guy”. But there are some subtle differences depending on what your requirements are. A fight instructor is someone who teaches the actors how to perform the techniques of the fight correctly, a fight choreographer creates the fight, a fight director takes the choreography and turns it into a fully developed performance, and a fight captain drills the actors in the mechanics of the fight. Most shows will have one person take on all of these responsibilities, but many will parse out the job according to the staff available.
Some things to look for in hiring a fight director: You are hiring another designer, someone whose input will have as much an effect on your show as the costume, set and lighting designers. The closest analogy would be to that of a dance choreographer for a musical, with one critical difference. Although some of the duties are similar, and in both cases the movements spring forth as pure expressions and elaborations of a moment of a heightened emotional state, dances in most musicals tend only to explore that moment without adding to the storyline. Fight scenes almost always are included so as to change the direction of the plot. Leaving these crucial moments in the show completely in someone else’s hands can take too much away from the directorial intent. Make your vision crystal clear, and be specific. Let the fight director know what character traits you need to highlight, what the tone of the fight should be, even where the actors should end up on stage at the end of the conflict.
Primarily, your fight instructor is a theatre professional, not just someone who knows how to fight. When the fight choreographer decides on the moves of the fight, he or she is in effect a playwright, for every move will tell part of the story of the play. She is also going to coach the actors on how to perform the movements, and what the emotional intent is of each action, so in effect also becomes the director. So test the skills of your presumptive choreographer. One possibility is to “test hire” your candidate. Invite her to teach a one or two hour session in some aspect of stage combat to your class or cast. Seeing someone in action with students is the best way to get a feel for their approach to the work.
Does the instructor clearly demonstrate the techniques so that your actors can pick them up quickly? Does he panic or show impatience when someone doesn’t learn quickly? Does he leave anyone behind? Is safety not only stressed, but made understandable? Is there as much emphasis on how to act a fight as well as on how to do the techniques? Are “non-fighters” made to feel comfortable and confidant performing the actions? Would you trust this person to lead these actors even in your absence? Would you let this person direct your show?
The specifics of stage combat are sometimes so subtle that they are lost on most beginning students, yet a slight change of the angle of someone’s wrist can mean the difference between safety and injury. You will be hiring someone to not only teach some techniques, but also to see and solve the danger points long before anyone else would see them so that the actors can avoid a danger they never even knew existed.
So a word directly to all actors who may be asked to perform an act of stage combat. You have the inalienable right to walk away from any rehearsal, any scene, any show, any acting company in which you feel that your safety is being compromised in any way. Never fear any supposed damage to your career by sticking up for your safety. No show is worth a disability. If you think that your partner is out of control, refuse to continue working with him until he is stable once more. If something doesn’t feel right but you have no idea why, but you were told that it is safe, still insist on finding a way to do it that makes you feel secure. Always challenge authority when your safety is at stake.
Stuntwork vs. Stage Combat
Movies and television use stunt professionals to do the bulk of violent actions when they film, mainly for very sound economic reasons. Well trained stunt artists are less likely to get injured than regular actors when doing a fall or swinging from a rope. They are also far less likely to injure someone else when throwing a punch or even just grabbing someone. They are very well paid to reduce risk to the production overall and especially to the featured actors, for even a minor injury to an actor can cause a delay of several days’ filming, at a cost to the producers of tens of thousands of dollars. (A common saying for film producers is that there is nothing more expensive than a cheap stuntman.) For that same reason, stunt artists have to be replaceable. If one suffers an injury while filming, another can be plugged into his or her spot immediately.
In order to insure the highest level of safety, stunts are performed as individual units of action that can later be edited into the rest of the scene. All other action stops, the set can be specially rearranged, the stunt artists can wear special bracing and padding – in short the entire production comes to a halt until the single stunt is performed correctly. It might take a full day just to perform one sequence or even one fall, but the stunt itself is performed without any of the distractions of trying to maintain the flow of the emotional build or any other acting considerations.
Obviously in theatre we don’t have that luxury. We’re trying to tell a story and can’t have the audience step out for a cup of coffee while we set-up all of the safety equipment needed for a stunt. Worse, the same person who does the acting is also the person who has to perform the violence, so we cannot risk any injury at all. Although we may take elements of stuntwork to help shape the illusions we perform, ultimately stage combat has its own very different set of techniques than is found on a film set.
Professional stuntmen are sometimes used as stage fight choreographers, but they learn a distinct set of skills (breaking falls, contact hits) which place the actors in more danger than is ever necessary on stage, and they usually have only a limited understanding of stagework. Having a stunt artist train the actors is only one step above having untrained actors work out the fight on their own, which is fine if you don’t mind risking serious injuries. Stuntmen and untrained actors also share an enjoyment in performing contact techniques. It makes them feel manly, but of course the chance of injury is high. But there’s another reason I and all good stage combat instructors try to avoid contact techniques.
When the receiver of, let’s say, a slap to the face takes the hit, the pain he feels is his own, not the character’s. So he can’t help but take a fraction of a second to step out of character, evaluate the possible damage, and then find his way back into the life of the play. The slapper as well wonders how strong his slap was, how much damage he may have caused. In other words, both actors stop acting, and whenever they stop acting and drop out of character they fail to tell the story. So ultimately all contact techniques become a self-indulgent violation of the trust the audience gives us which allows them to suspend disbelief and accept the reality of the play.
Improvising and Stage Combat
Acting is a difficult craft. Not only does it require that the body and voice be strong enough and trained correctly to handle whatever the show requirements may demand, the craft also demands an open mind and spirit that can respond to subtle changes that come out in rehearsal and performance. There are many directors who, in order to nurture inspiration, will work almost exclusively using improvisation techniques. These can be invaluable in bringing out artistic responses both vast and deep, inspiration impossible to summon by cold calculation and rote rehearsal. They are also very dangerous when applied to stage combat.
Nothing in staged violence can be allowed to be improvised to any degree whatsoever. A simple shift in weight from one foot to the other can mean the difference between standing and falling. A change in trajectory of a moving arm by only a few degrees can mean the difference between safely missing someone and knocking him out.
The time for improvisation is during the early rehearsals, when the director and the actors need to explore the scene and the characters. By all means allow the actors to explore their impulses. Just don’t let them touch each other until the moves can be carefully set, both for their safety and for believability.
Real Fighting vs. Stage Combat
Don’t assume that a fencing instructor can choreograph a sword fight. The techniques of competitive fencing are dangerous to actors and very damaging to the weapons. The fencing instructor will not have the broad knowledge of all of the weapons choices that are now available for stage, and worse will tend to choreograph according to his or her own skills and experience. That experience is in moving quickly enough so that your opponent can’t see the attack coming, which is competitive and not theatrical. For the same reason, most martial arts instructors make very poor stage combat instructors, even when choreographing martial arts scenes for theatre. Their focus is usually to make the moves look crisp, cool and fast, rather than in telling a story to the audience.
Fencers and martial artists learn to do things that are necessary for combat but dangerous for stage. For example, fighters learn not to look at an opponent’s eyes, but rather keep a softer focus on the opponent’s torso, the better to catch quick movements within the periphery. And they must never look at the punch or kick coming at them. In stage combat, both participants work together to create the fight and also to heighten the dramatic tension of the scene, so checking-in to your partner’s face is crucial. And to help the audience follow the fight, we have to throw our focus to the incoming threat and also telegraph our attacks.
Where martial arts can instruct theatre arts:
I’m not against fencing or martial arts. I have studied both and I know that some aspects are excellent training for stagework:
• body alignment – being able to move forward or backward and still maintain a pleasant balanced carriage that doesn’t constrict breathing or movement is something I wish every actor could develop.
• relaxing the body even in moments of stress – allowing the limbs to move efficiently and fluidly without any extra body tension.
• allowing the limbs to move independently of the torso – actors sometimes find in difficult to step back when the arm is attacking, or to step forward while blocking.
• most importantly, looking like a fighter.
Where martial arts and theatre arts diverge:
After having taught and performed stage combat for some thirty years, I went back to competitive karate, something which I enjoyed in my youth but neglected completely in the intervening years as I concentrated on building my career. During the first year back I found that my stage combat work had forced my body into making some interesting choices, much to the detriment of my martial arts skills. My body simply refused to do the following:
• pointing objects at someone’s face – I found that my punches were drifting off either to the left or right, or sometimes went flying above the person’s head altogether. My opponents barely had to attempt to block any of my head level punches.
• closing distance – when moving into attack distance, my punches and kicks would land a couple of inches short of making contact.
• stepping and punching at one instant – I was telegraphing all of my aggressive moves, stepping in and landing my stance before generating the punch. My opponents simply stepped back long before my punches even started.
• combining hip movement with limb movement – even when I did land my punches or kicks, there was no power behind them, as my hips weren’t generating extra force by turning into the aggressive act.
What a shame for my karate skills, but how wonderful for stage combat! I was performing in a way so as to cause the least amount of damage possible when fighting someone. These are the very techniques that are too often lacking when a fencing instructor or martial artist choreograph a fight, and that is why you should be very leery of hiring them for stage. Even more importantly, never allow members of the Society of Creative Anachronism or similar Renaissance Faire aficionados to lead your fights. They have no qualifications to handle a sword on stage, let alone teach other actors to do so. Stage combat is not stunt work; it is pantomimed acting using a prop. [As a fight director, I usually don’t allow those actors who are SCA members to handle weapons. It’s unfair of me and very prejudicial, I know, but I really don’t care. In my experience they invariably end up hurting someone when they are involved in any way with the fights.]
So for all those reasons, stick with someone trained in the specific techniques of stage combat. If you can’t find such a person, you are better off using a dance choreographer than a fighter.
Hiring the Fight Choreographer
The fight director’s actual job duties will be whatever you agree on. If the person you have in mind is a full-time professional, your budget may only allow for one day of his or her time. In that case he will only be able to talk to you by phone to get a feel for the show, choreograph a fight beforehand, and then take one of your rehearsal slots to teach the fight to your actors. The assumption here is that your actors already have basic fighting skills or that there is someone on staff or in the cast who is a competent fight instructor and can follow up with specific technique coaching after the fight master has gone.
At the other end of the spectrum, perhaps you have a huge budget or have found someone willing to work for much less. In that best of all possible worlds, the fight choreographer will provide input during design conferences and auditions, train all of the actors in the stage combat techniques, choreograph all of the fights and redesign them as needed during the rehearsal process, provide copies of all fight notation to the stage manager, procure and inspect all of the weapons, train the technicians and actors in their maintenance and use, review all matters that might affect the safety of the actors and audience as relates to the fight, hire outside specialists for any special effects beyond his own capabilities, designate and train the fight captain, establish the fight call protocol or perhaps even run the fight call himself. In a word, be there for every rehearsal and performance to baby every possible contingency related to the fight.
I’ve worked at both extremes and every possible combination in the middle, and of course it’s better to have the time to be able to really work with the actors than not. But just as in every other aspect of mounting a theatrical production, there is no right or wrong, merely compromises and realities that will affect who you can get and for how long.
What do the titles mean?
As you look through resumes, you might get a little overwhelmed by the different designations given for jobs performed that relate to stage combat.
Fight Master – For the Society of American Fight Directors, this is the highest level of experience and competence recognized by that organization. An SAFD Fight Master is an expert in every aspect of the field, is a teacher of teachers of stage combat, and has many years of experience in choreographing for major theatres across the country. There are only a couple dozen individuals in the country so recognized
Outside of (and pre-dating) the SAFD, the term is used more loosely. Before stage combat became a discipline of its own, sword fights were created by fencing instructors, and the common honorific is to always refer to the fencing instructor as maestro, therefore the term fencing master. In other words, the go-to guy who has experience in both competing in and teaching of sport fencing. It was only natural that the term be modified to include the broader range of moves needed for stage. So fight master is used in the same way as properties master; the person ultimately in charge of that aspect of that show.
Fight Director – A little less egotistical sounding than fight master, and better describes the nature of the actual duties that were performed. The fight director is in charge or all aspects of the violent actions in a show. He or she answers only to the director, but maintains total control of the fights.
Fight Choreographer – Sometimes the term fight director seems a little too elevated, making it seem as though the position is the equivalent of that of the director of the show. For that reason, many prefer to use fight choreographer in program listings. This makes great sense when compared to a dance choreographer in a musical. Both have to design choreograph the moves, and will probably have to spend some time in teaching the choreography to the actors. Most people use the terms fight director and fight choreographer interchangeably, although there are many who use fight choreographer in a more limited sense of meaning that the person choreographed the fights but did not involve him/herself in training the actors.
Fight Designer – This one isn’t as common, but it does show up on occasion. Usually it means that the fight guy wants to be acknowledged as a theatre professional on par with the set designer, lighting designer, costume designer, etc., in other words a true theatre professional with artistic input as well as technical skills. Although this is exactly the case, to the general public is sounds as though the person only laid out a general blueprint of how the fights should end up, rather than being directly involved with having the actors perform the fight.
Assistant to the Fight Director – Just as it sounds, although the specific duties will range widely depending on how much latitude he or she is given by the fight director. Usually the assistant has notated the fight and worked with the actors while they are trying to memorize the fight. He or she will also act as the intermediary between the fight director and the props master, set designer, and costume designer when specific details have to be worked out. As the position is essentially clerical and administrative in nature, stage combat experience is not necessary.
Fight Captain – This is a different job completely than that of the assistant. The fight captain runs the nightly fight call, drills actors in technique as needed, and makes sure that the weapons used are in acceptable condition prior to each performance. As this position is very hands-on and requires a good deal of knowledge of stage combat and to in attendance for all rehearsals and performances, it often goes to one of the more experienced members of the cast.
Certified Instructor – For the Society of American Fight Directors, it is a practitioner of stage combat whom they have tested and can endorse to choreograph and train actors for theatrical fighting.
Certified Actor/Combatant – For the Society of American Fight Directors, it is someone who has successfully passed one or more of their courses of instruction in stage combat.
Please be clear on this: to be “certified” only means that the actor took a class and passed a test. It doesn’t mean that they are good at what they learned, and is not an endorsement of their skills. They learned some techniques, they learned a fight, and then they successfully performed the fight one time in front of a fight master. It does not mean that the person will remember those techniques three months after the test, and it certainly does not mean that the person is capable of teaching others to fight on stage. They were not judged on their teaching or choreography skills. This last caution cannot be overemphasized. Too many times a director will breathe a sigh of relief when he sees that one of the cast is “certified”, thinking that all of his fight worries are over and there is no need to look for a fight choreographer.
But even if you are just looking for fighters for your show, don’t let the certification allow you to overestimate their skills. Remember that taking any class – acting, singing, fighting, what have you – can help hone skills, but one can take a class and not become skillful. I have dealt with fighters both certified and not, and certification is never a guarantee of competence.
I mentioned earlier that doing a test hire is a good way to evaluate a prospective combat director. It won’t cost you much, perhaps a hundred bucks, and you’ll learn more than any resume can tell you. I know that you may not have the chance to do that, so if you are stuck with going by someone’s CV, at least call as many directors on that sheet and ask them how he or she was to work with. Your fight person not only has to be good, but also needs to be a good fit with your style of work.
There are some things that your fight person may not be qualified to handle. Most will not have much if any training in firearms, explosive effects, tumbling, lifts, fly rigging, falling from heights – all those really fun things that can get you in trouble in a hurry. Fight folk tend to be a bit cocky, and very few of the ones I’ve met like to say “I don’t know how to do that”. Make sure that the skills of your hire match your needs.
Once you’ve found someone, you’ll need to set the ground rules before you can agree on a price. What exactly do you need from this hire? Which scenes do you need him to choreograph and which do you merely need her to observe? How many rehearsals will be required? How many tech and dress rehearsals do you want her to attend? How many design meetings are there going to be? Are all of the actors already trained, or will a separate schedule for skills training be required? Who is going to provide the weapons? Who pays for the damages?
When both you and she agree on those items, she’ll be able to come back with a cost proposal. You should have a number ready as well.
Your theatre may never have hired a fight person before, so you may feel at a loss as to what you should offer. The best advice I can give is to compare the position to a dance choreographer for a musical. The skill level and the teaching capability should be the same for both, so the stipend should be about the same as well.
What your fight director will need before the first rehearsal:
Give your fight director as much information as early on as possible. This of course will include your vision of how the scene should progress, but also any specifics you have on nearly every aspect of the show as it can relate to the scene in question. Here are some things about which the choreographer will [or should] ask:
– the set – Do you have a complete ground plan and elevation plan, with all platforms and steps clearly marked? How much of a rake will there be? Are you expecting any “fancy” elements in the fight? Swinging from a rope, jumping up on a bench, climbing a wall? Are you including fog? Water or oil based? Are there stairs? Handrails?
– the lighting – Mood lighting for a fight is wonderful, but will it have enough contrast so that the actors can safely see the weapons? Where are the dead spots in the lighting plan? Where are the spots on stage where the lights might be blinding them. How low will the fixtures hang? Any footlights?
– the costumes – What will the footwear be? Rubber souls? Will there be gloves? hats? cloaks? jewelry? jackets? puffy sleeves? belts? sashes? tight fitting or loose? What about undergarments? Any item being borrowed or rented and must not be damaged?
– makeup – wigged? prosthetics? oil or water based makeup?
– the props – What weapons will be used? Are there any items not considered weapons which might be handled during the course of the fight? Are there any liquids in the scene?
– the sound – Will the fight be underscored? If so, the fight director will need a copy of that music before the fight can be choreographed. Will any of the fighters have to wear body microphones? Will the set be mic’d? Where is the exact placement of each pick-up, especially floor mic’s
– the director – What kind of violence do you want to see? Some movements are comic-book, some are gruesome, some are graphic, some are emotion charged. Are you going for hyper-realism? Or do you want a “stylized” fight? What exactly does that mean to you? How much blood do you want the audience to see, if any. What do you want the characters to have learned by the end of the fight? Where do you want the audience emotionally to be at the end of the fight?
The most frustrating part of dealing with tech week is having the fighters have to deal with costume surprises. I know that most theatres don’t have the luxury of having early access to the clothing, but there are some things which the actors need by the end of the first week of fight rehearsals. The actual footwear to be used for the show must be used in rehearsal. The rehearsal clothing needs to be as close a match as is humanly possible to the costume itself so that the actor can find out if the movement needs to be modified.
As for the set, carefully go over all of the extra strengthening that will be required for balustrades, stairs, wall units, etc. Keep in mind that the fight director should not be in charge of the design nor installation of any structural safety elements. That’s the job of the technical director. Swinging from a rope might be very exciting, but choreographers don’t have any special training in it, and certainly don’t know how to do this kind of specialized rigging.
By the way, a set with many levels is not fight friendly, and even something as minor as the type of flooring planned may require certain moves to be avoided, so get the fight choreographer involved as early as possible in the design of the show.
It is unlikely that your fight choreographer is going to be available for every fight rehearsal and performance. Most of the time, a fight captain will have to be named. This is the person, usually an actor in the cast, who will run the fight rehearsals in the choreographer’s absence, and then during the run of the show will check the weapons, run the nightly pre-show fight call, and report to the choreographer any problems with the fight and request modifications to it which may be necessary. Depending on the choreographer, he might also have to notate the fight choreography, provide the stage manager with updated copies, rehearsing the understudies, and training any replacements to the cast. Because of all of those duties, it should not be one of the principles, and ideally should be someone who is both well versed in stage combat but not actually part of most of the fights, for the simple reason that it’s hard to look at the fight if you are in it. Don’t be in a rush to name the fight captain too early. Most choreographers want to get to know all of the available personnel and make that judgment themselves. He’s looking for someone who not only knows about stage combat, but can also meld well with the choreographer’s style. A mismatch here can ruin the fights.
Of course, in a major fight show the choreographer may require an assistant well before the first rehearsal. When that happens, the fight captain will not be a member of the cast but rather act as an assistant stage manager, and assigned purely to the fight choreographer. In that case, the fight captain will take a much more active role in pre-production meetings, serving as liaison between choreographer, stage management and the rest of the design team. He will also need to learn all of the parts of all of the fights, assist in partnering the fight segment of the audition, run all warm-ups before each fight rehearsal, assist the props crew in assigning weapons transfer protocol, advise them of any damage, run all of the pre-show fight calls, and at strike assist with the final check-in of all weapons.
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Now, I’m not so naive as to think that fights will only be choreographed by a professional fight director just because I wrote the previous pages. It’s going to happen that either from budget constraints, scheduling difficulties, or just not being able to find anyone, a fight director is not used for a production. It is also reasonable to assume that just as there are novice directors, there have to be opportunities for nascent actor/combatants wanting to learn about choreography to actually have the opportunity to work on a show. It is only for the eventuality that actors are left exposed to harm that the following pages are offered. It is certainly not meant as a substitute for adequate supervision.
But please remember – less is more. Choreograph only the basic minimum needed to tell the story and then stop. Make sure your actors understand that only rehearsed and polished moves can be in the show. Every second of performed stage combat is another accident waiting to happen. Reduce your risks.
By the way, whether you hire an outside choreographer or not, know what you want to have happen within the fight. Not just who wins and who dies, but really examine why the plot requires the audience to see violence at that particular point in the play. Don’t be afraid to work out a rough draft of the way you envision the fights. You don’t have to know the names of the moves or even decide what specific moves need to be used in order to block out a fight. Even if you delegate the choreography to someone else, the finished fight is still your responsibility. Get an image of how the fight will “pulse”, and by that I mean the changing flow of upper and lower hand, winning and losing, aggression and fear. The clearer your internal vision becomes of the fight the more easily you’ll be able to translate that into some very specific actions. Storyboard it, just the way film directors do. Some choreographers may resent that much input and may even let you know that you are treading on their turf. Tell ‘em to lump it. It’s your show. A good choreographer will take everything you come up with and either mold it into something effective, or give you some very good and understandable reasons why it should be cut.
Why demonstrate the fight at all? The Greeks wrote powerful drama without showing any at all, and they certainly dealt with emotions as powerful as anything written since, so why does your show need visible violence? What do you need to transmit? What does your audience need to know by the end of the fight that they can only receive by witnessing violence?
What is the simplest, most straightforward way to transfer that knowledge? Is demonstrating the violent act the best way to do so? Is it the only way? If you have no alternative to demonstrating violence, how much must you show to get the point across? Can it be implied? Can it be shown stylistically or symbolically? Be honest – are you adding violence because it is fun for your audience? Because it is fun for you? I’ve had to choreograph fights that were added by a director’s whim to give more actors a chance to participate in the “fun”, and these fights have always detracted from the show.
Hiring the Fighter-Actors
Or, as the SAFD prefers to call them, the Actor-Combatants. And it’s a good designation, for the performers do have to act the fight. It helps your production not at all to have technically proficient fights that add nothing to the story because the fighters don’t have the acting chops to give meaning and nuance to the actions. For that reason, always follow the basic rule during casting as you would for straight play or a musical – hire the best actor you can for the role. All other considerations are secondary.
Secondary, but still important. Those other considerations include general physical health and flexibility, emotional stability, and a generally pleasant demeanor. Rehearsing stage combat can be stressful and frustrating, and having to work with a difficult partner can only make things worse. Trusting and respecting someone on stage is always desirable, but it becomes crucial once the swords start swinging.
Many actors ask if they should be “certified” as fighters. Here’s my two-cents. – take it for what it’s worth. Training is great in every aspect of theatre, and if you what to learn more about stage combat, that’s wonderful. And it is true that there are some directors that love to see that little line in the special skills part of the resume when they are considering someone for a “fight role”. But you should be aware that there are many other directors who will cast someone in spite of having the certification. You see there are lots of mediocre actors who get certified as a way of getting roles that they can’t get on the strength of their acting. So a lot of directors assume that someone who is certified is trying to cover-up a lack of talent.
The majority of directors look at it somewhere in the middle. They assume that the actor did go through training, but they can’t tell how well the person did, if he still remembers any of it, if he has kept up his skills since then, or if he can actually act and fight at the same time. That’s what goes through my mind when I see a “certified” actor at an audition, because in my experience the certified are never any better at stage-combat than the un-certified. They’ll usually have a slight edge during the first few rehearsals, but that levels out by the time the show opens. I’ll use one large fight show that I choreographed as an example. One member of the cast had complete and advanced certification, and was actually taught by one of the foremost fight masters in this country, possibly the world. And yet there were several others in the cast who had no prior experience at all who performed at a level far above that of the certified actor.
So I wouldn’t have actors concern themselves with getting “certified”, which in itself is inconsequential. Rather, I tell them to get good training and keep their skills up, the same way they should be doing for voice, diction, flexibility, strength, monologue work – all of the skills needed as a working actor.
All actors should know during the audition process what kind of activity the show will require from them, and should gently be made aware that they are volunteering for something that might place them in danger. Make no guarantee that they will be safe, for that is outside of your control. But do be clear that you will try to make the environment as safe as you can.
In a musical you would of course have the audition process broken down into three segments – acting, singing, and dancing. For a fight show, you’ll want to do something similar, but you don’t actually have to have them perform a fight sequence. You’ll get a lot more information by having a true modern dance audition, just without music. Seeing how well they can understand and replicate a series of even arbitrary movements requiring different body postures and limb positions will tell you volumes about their ability and training, and it can level the playing field somewhat for those who have natural talent but haven’t yet picked up a sword.
If I have only limited time to have a movement audition, or if the show has already been cast but not yet choreographed, I like to do a quick test of the actor’s general suitability. I lay a bunch of swords and daggers in the center of the room, then without comment or introduction allow the auditioners to enter about 10 minutes before the stated audition time. I sit in a corner, pretending to read a newspaper. There are always going to be a couple of actors who rush to the weapons, pick them up, wave them around, even start to play with them. These are the actors I won’t cast, or if already cast I make sure to reduce their combat time to the bare minimum, because such a person is going to hurt others simply from lack of self-discipline. It’s a snap-judgment of someone’s character, I know, and not fair at all. It is also infallible.
The Fight Rehearsal
Please find a way to schedule plenty of time for supervised fight rehearsals, preferably with the fight choreographer present, but if that isn’t possible then with the fight captain. If even that isn’t possible, at the very least the rehearsals should be watched by someone respected enough to control the pace of the rehearsal, keep any bystanders out of harm’s way, and act as the surrogate audience to make sure that the positioning of the actors is set for maximum believability.
I know that time is always at a premium, but see how much can be set aside for the actors to rehearse the fights without feeling rushed or having been squeezed into the general schedule as an afterthought.
Dressing for the fight rehearsal is a progressive affair. Certainly during the initial blocking rehearsals the combatants should wear soft soled shoes and comfortable workout clothes. The clothing should not hide the contour of the body, as the choreographer will need to see and correct body alignment and limb position. Many joint injuries can be prevented at this early stage. No dangling jewelry of course, and pocketed objects which might hurt if landed on must be removed as well.
As soon as the fighters have the choreography reasonably well-memorized, the substitution of the work-out clothes can begin. Rehearsal clothing at this stage is necessary for the actors so they can learn to deal with capes, jackets, hats, gloves of course, but most especially shoes. Costumers are sometimes loathe to provide the actual costumes to the actors before the first dress rehearsal [indeed the costumes usually aren’t even built yet], but an exception must be made for footwear. The safety factor is too important to allow any delay in getting the final shoe choice to the actors.
Layers of rehearsal focus
Just as one doesn’t simply memorize lines and blocking and assume that one can act, the fight rehearsal is more than just repeating a bunch of set moves. Character development, pace, build, highlight of intention and reactions are all explored during rehearsal. Having said that, none of that work means anything if the lines aren’t memorized, and the same thing applies to the stage fight. So let’s get that out of the way first.
Write It Down! The fight choreographer should hand out a sheet with the fight written out, but if not, the actors as well as the assistant director should be writing down every move of the fight at each rehearsal. The actors should make sure to add any modifications to the fight immediately, for what you think will be remembered will be gone from memory at the next rehearsal.Don’t count on one written version of the fight; disagreements will come up as to interpretation. Three versions are better than one, and two versions are almost useless.
Our natural instinct is to memorize the progression of moves in chronological order [1st move; 1st and 2nd moves; 1st 2nd and 3rd moves, etc.], but this has often led to the actors knowing the beginning of the fight cold, but as the fight progresses they feel less and less sure of it. I like to work with reverse progression when giving out the fight. I give them the last phrase, then the last two phrases, then the last three phrases, etc. By the time the blocking period is over they have the final phrases of the fight down pat, and any memorization glitches are going to occur at the start of the fight rather than at the exciting and stressful finish. Here are some other things to try during the fight rehearsals:
Footwork. The actors walk through the fight with the hands clasped behind the back. Offense and defense are shown through the eyes and with the shoulders. It really helps the actors work on the part of the fight which is usually the least convincing – intention and reaction.
Distance fighting. Have the actors stand three or four feet away from each other or more, completely outside of contact range, and go through the fight. A great way to make sure that they are working on the partnered pantomime aspects.
Getting into weapons fights, we do the above and add a few other exercises:
No weapons. No kidding, the best way to perfect a sword fight is to leave the swords in the props cabinet several times. Have the actors stand much closer than normal and go through the entire fight using just the hands. The fingers should actually reach out and try to touch the intended target [hip, shoulder, head] and the defensive hand merely deflects the attack only one inch away from reaching the target. Really try to touch the partner’s body. Since the focus is on the finger tips, the intention of attack and defense becomes much clearer and the techniques improve dramatically. Really focus on the exact square inch that the fingers must strike. This is the best single way to take someone from novice to looking like an expert.
Speed Sit down. The opposite of Footwork. The actors sit facing each other and only work thru the hand movements of the fight, but just as in the above exercise holding no weapons. Keep working until the movements become fluid, fast, and second nature. Actors can rehearse this way anywhere and at anytime. Just like line speed-thrus, a great way to keep the fight crisp.
Dropped parries. This is scary but an excellent way to improve control. Go through the fight as normal, but one actor [without warning and in no discernible pattern] simply does not make the appropriate defensive move. If the attacker doesn’t have excellent control, the partner gets hit.
How fast should the fight be?
The old answer is always the best. A fight can only go as fast as the audience can follow the story. All of the story. If the actors are moving too quickly, the audience can only see a blur of movement, but nothing that progresses the story. The story of the fight is told through precision, which is why the initial fight rehearsals must be conducted in painfully slow motion. Every movement during the critical initial sessions must be performed at an agonizingly slow pace so that all of the little mistakes can be corrected before they become part of muscle memory.
With each rehearsal, the pace can be allowed to increase slightly, but only as fast as the actors can demonstrate specificity of intent along with correct technique. By the time the show is ready to open, the fight should be ready to run at a little faster than full speed. And then the actors have to be convinced to actually perform it at only 80% of full speed. It’s great to have an exciting fight, but the actors still have to have a little reserve left in order to act the fight, as well as be able to handle any unforeseen contingencies.
Who is in charge?
This can get a little complicated. The director always gets the final word on what stays in the fight, but the choreography itself is the intellectual property of the choreographer. No change to the fight must be allowed to occur unless authorized by the choreographer. A fight captain or assistant may provide correction, but the moves themselves are sacrosanct. This should be the prima facie rule, and anything beyond that is to be worked out between the director and choreographer. For example, if I have to be gone for the majority of rehearsals, I let the director know that if a bit isn’t working and makes the show drag, it may be cut so long as I get a phone call the next day. Same thing goes if there are certain moves that cause anxiety to the actor. Sometimes I’ll also explain which fight phrases cannot be modified in any way and which phrases may be cut completely if time or ability to memorize is a problem. But that’s just me. Others may not be as comfortable with giving that much control to the director and others will give far more leeway. The main thing is to keep the choreographer in the loop when changes appear necessary. A change may have a hidden danger which the fight director may be able to spot, even through a phone call.
During performance, the stage manager takes over. It is her call as to whether or not a fight must be cancelled due to any safety concerns, including inclement weather. In addition, both she and the fighters themselves have the right and obligation to cancel the fight even in the midst of performing it should it appear that there is any condition which might cause an injury to either the actors or audience. As I’ve said before, there is no show that is worth an injury.
The Fight Call
A fight call is a short rehearsal of all of the fights in a show. It takes place just before every technical rehearsal and performance starting with first tech and continuing all the way through to closing night. If your show has a fight, you must run a nightly pre-show fight call. Of course it would be wonderful if this could happen starting well before first tech. I for one would love to see a fight call schedule for every single rehearsal starting the day after the fighters are first given the choreography, but I know that isn’t realistic for most theatres. But certainly starting with first tech, the fight call must be incorporated into the call schedule. It doesn’t matter if the fight is only a couple of punches, you can’t short change this vital aspect of actor safety.
A fight call allows the actors an opportunity to get the moves of the fight back into muscle memory and to fix any of the little problems that may have cropped up during the prior performance. That’s all there is to it. For my money, there is no point in running the fights at full speed nor in slow motion. A simple light and quick walk-through of the fight is usually all that is necessary. If a particular issue needs to be addressed, the specific action should be worked through and then the entire fight run one more time, but that’s it. There is no benefit in exhausting the cast before the show. It’s analogous to a line speed-thru. It only takes about twenty minutes and it awakens the brain so that the actor is ready for performance.
Actors resent the fight call. They hate showing up early, and I don’t blame them. But since keeping the fight fresh can prevent serious injuries, all of the actors should know that anyone who fails to show up for fight call will be cut from the fights in that night’s performance. For that reason the fight call is run by the fight captain, but is set and called by the stage manager. Showing up on time is the only requirement that must be set in stone. Bring this up at the first company meeting, for anyone who cannot make the fight call should not be cast in a fight.
Beyond that, be flexible. You may need to work out a split call if there are many cast members and some have different make-up and costume calls, or you may need all of the fighters to arrive twenty minutes before the rest of the cast, or you may need to set the fight call for twenty minutes before curtain. The specifics don’t matter so long as a practical routine is set and then kept.
In some theatres the rigidity of fight call protocol can get a bit silly. Some places insist on the fight call taking place on the set, with all of the set dressing in place, and all of the actors in costume. Some also require every fight to be performed three times: once as a walk-through, then at half speed with lines, and finally at full performance speed. But why put everyone through all of that? The call can be performed nearly anywhere as long as there is enough room, and at some point you need to trust that the actors know what they are doing. They just need a quick chance to freshen up the fight and check the weapons for damage. Certainly there is no benefit to having them run the fights at performance speed.
* * * * *
Before we get to the combat itself, there are some other aspects of teaching staged combat that should be addressed – the first being actors playing with violence off-stage. Actors are given the liberty to play as children while exploring their characters, but a lot of them also want to play with the fight techniques they are learning. The impulse to play is understandable but really gets in the way of good rehearsing. For one thing, as soon as you start playing with stage combat, your body starts memorizing bad technique, so the super slow motions and mind numbing repetition of careful fight rehearsals is really the only thing that will lead to a believable fight – and a safe one.
That being said, slow motion rehearsing is a tool that helps us get to performance, but we can’t confuse one for the other. In any art discipline we can’t show the audience that we have learned correct technique. We have to provide a believable illusion, to hold the mirror up to nature. So at some point the actors are going to have to bring the fight up to speed and give each simulation a look of real danger. Whether director or actor, never be satisfied that you have “taken care of the fight stuff.” Each simulation must be judged on safety and believability. If it doesn’t strike an audience as being true, it has no business being in your show.
A third concern is that some actors may simply not be comfortable around violent actions, and they can begin to lose the trust that they need to have in their partners. These actors are going to be very reticent about expressing their discomfort for fear of being seen as “wimps”, so please keep a weather eye out for them. If they are given a chance to approach the material slowly and in a spirit of exploration and sharing, with a little patience you’ll find that they can soon more than hold their own in even the most demanding fight scenes.
Another point that both directors and actors need to remember is that stage combat will never have the feel of action sequences in popular movies. I know that that’s sometimes a bitter pill to swallow, especially after seeing breathtaking fights in such films as The Matrix, Braveheart, Gladiator, or The Lord of the Rings. Stage actors want to re-create the cool moves they’ve seen, but we just can’t speed up the film when the actor gets tired, or show something at three different angles, or perform something twenty times in front of the camera and then keep the best move for the final cut, or edit out every time a weapon breaks, or bring in a stunt double, or take ten hours to film an entire fight in segments of only four moves at a time, or delay finishing a scene waiting for an actor to recuperate from a bruised knee, or change out a heavy steel sword for a plastic duplicate that weighs only a tenth of the first one and use it in the middle of a fight sequence, or pretend to fire a gun and add the sound and the flash in post-production.
Stage combat is an illusion that works only because we can control the placement of the audience and they have suspended disbelief. Playing with these actions outside of rehearsal really looks goofy to passersby, and adds to the reputation of immaturity with which the acting profession is already burdened. But there is a more important reason for not taking a stage fight outside of a theatre, which I call …
Yelling theatre in a crowded firehouse.
On occasion theatres get the idea that in order to drum up interest in an upcoming show, a selected scene from a play should be performed in a public area with a lot of foot traffic. Not a bad thought – the public gets a taste of the quality of the performance and flyers can be passed out. And what better way to get the passing public’s attention than by staging a fight scene!
I have a great fear of having fights performed in a non-controlled, non-theatrical environment. If the public space has a specific playing area, if the characters have a specific entrance and exit separate from the public, if there is a declaimed introduction before the action, and if the characters are in costume …. in other words if you suck all of the life out of the story telling, then I would feel slightly less fearful.
My concern is that the unsuspecting audience can react in fear, and for many that fear turns to action. The first response is to run, the second is to call 911, and for some the third response is to pull out their hidden pistol and start shooting. All of these things have happened. (I usually get the call from the local police department when my props were used in a demonstration that ended poorly.)
Sometimes, actors are arrested for endangering the public (on the idea that it should have been anticipated that at the very least one person won’t understand that it isn’t real, will run for an exit, trip, and sprain an ankle.) Less common, actors have been shot at. It doesn’t matter how extreme the costumes or exotic the weaponry. Real crazy people have attacked innocent others with samurai swords while in public places, so there is no reason to assume that everyone will automatically know that the violence isn’t real.
I know that if I ever saw anyone pull out a knife or sword in a public area, I would not hesitate to take down that person instantly. I wouldn’t ask, I wouldn’t question. For by the time you wait to figure out why someone is behaving aggressively, two or three people could be killed. Any off-duty police officer in similar circumstances would also feel compelled to shoot first and determine the threat level later.
Finally, it is not pleasant but vitally important to keep one more thing in mind. Stage combat training does not mean that injuries will not occur. They will. Good training will lead to fewer injuries, but accidents will happen and actors will get hurt. If you are not comfortable with that, cut the fights from the show.