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Uh, Loss of Roses by William Ing.
I remember my first day of school.
Mother took me by the hand and I carried
a bouquet of roses too.
Mama had let me choose the most lovely
roses in the garden and the teacher
thanked me for them.
Then mama left me
and I felt kind of scared cuz I had
never been any place before without her.
But she told me teach would be mama to
me at school
and would treat me just as nice as she
did. So I sat down with all the other
kids, their faces so strange and new to
me. And I started talking to a little
boy across the aisle.
I didn't know it was against the rules.
But teacher came back and slapped me so
hard across the face that I cried and I
ran to the door because I wanted to run
home to mom as quick as I could.
The teacher grabbed me by the hand and
she pulled me to my seat and she told me
I was too big a girl to be running home
to mama
and I had to learn to take my
punishment.
I still cried.
I told teacher I wanted my roses back
but she wouldn't give them to me.
She shook her finger at me and said,
"When I gave away lovely presents, I
couldn't expect to get them back."
I guess I never really learned that
lesson very well.
There's so many things I still want
back.
Thank you. Um,
why is she telling the story and who is
she telling the story to?
Uh, she's telling this story to a woman
who's kind of became her mother when she
was a child.
It's it feels like a really nice, sweet
monologue.
Yeah. But it feels like there's no
stakes and that the only stakes are will
you get to the point where you will get
emotional at the end. That's what it
feels like the sort of journey for you
is. I feel like the stakes have to be
much higher. So I wonder whether maybe
somewhere in here you've become the
teacher that slapped you across the
face. You become that person
and that's why you're telling this
story.
Mhm.
You were somebody who would slap a kid
in the face and wag your finger at them
and say, "What's the line?" You don't
get back things you give away.
That's what I think this piece sort of
is about metaphorically. I think that
she is
talking about the thing that she's
become
and using the example of the worst
memory she has as a child. Mhm.
So, start this monologue completely
differently.
Okay.
Start this monologue in enormous anger.
This is not a pleasant story you're
remembering about the beautiful flowers.
I want you to push push push. Go get do
this model in a way you've never [ __ ]
done it. Never imagined it could be
done.
Okay.
This woman is pissed off.
I remember my first day at school.
Mother took me by the hand and she and I
carried a bouquet of roses, too. Mama
had let me pick the loveliest roses in
the garden.
And the teacher thanked me for them.
Great. It's beautiful. I want you to
keep in that mode. Sit on your [ __ ]
hands
and tell us this story. Don't
demonstrate. Don't illustrate. Tell us
this story right where you were. Go.
Then mama left me
and I felt kind of scared cuz I had
never been any place before without her.
But she told me teacher would be mama to
me at school and would treat me just as
nice as she did.
So I sat with all the other little kids.
Their faces so strange and new to me.
And I started talking with the little
boy across the aisle.
I didn't know it was against the rules,
but teacher came back and she slapped me
across the face so hard that I cried and
I ran. I ran to the door as quick as I
could cuz I wanted to get home to mama.
Okay, now let's just stop for a second
cuz this is very interesting. What's
tell tell us what you're experiencing
before I talk about what I'm
experiencing.
Uh I'm feeling contradictory is what I'm
feeling.
Great. Great. Do you ever feel that way
in life?
Yeah.
Great. Yeah,
that's one of the things that's the most
important key to acting
is being able to be contradictory.
Yeah.
Why are you doing this monologue?
It's a question I'll ask people when I
think you're not doing a monologue that
serves you.
Yeah.
Because what it means is if we don't
follow our own hearts,
if we don't go, you know what? [ __ ] that
[ __ ] I'm going to do something that
I I need to do. I need to say these
words. I need to experience this
character. I I need to do this for
myself because God knows there's a lot
of times when we don't get that
opportunity and when we do have to you
know go you know cheese it there what
you know uh what whatever. Uh, so it's
interesting to me that you chose the
piece and then interesting to me that
you do the piece in a way that has
weirdly no stakes and weirdly no, you
know, it and and my point is is that
it's not enough for us to do a piece
where the whole notion is that if we get
emotional by the end, then we're showing
what a good actor we are. I don't give a
[ __ ] about whether you get emotional at
the end. I give a [ __ ] about whether I
get emotional at the end.
And in fact, what's more interesting
nine times out of 10 is watching actors,
and we know this from some of the great
performances ever, is that they're
sitting on a keg of either dynamite or
emotion that they never let go. It's
literally it's that precipice of will
they fall over to the other side? And
and one of the reasons why that's so
interesting in terms of watching great
work is because then that makes us come
to them. We then do 50% of that work
rather than us giving it all to them.
It's one of the things that's a great
lesson to learn is how to keep it in.
And the audience wants you to go there,
but you don't. You you don't you don't
give it to them. I'll just tell you this
one little story because it illustrates
weirdly what audiences want. Who's seen
Rosemary's Baby?
Well, if you haven't seen Rosemary's
Baby, it's a movie worth watching. Uh
this is a film with Mia Pharaoh and an
incredible actress named Ruth Gordon.
Ruth Gordon was a playwright and her
husband Garson Kanan. They wrote many,
many plays. In fact, they wrote many of
the screenplays for the great Katherine
Heppern uh Spencer Tracy movies. But in
uh this film, uh she plays one of the
leading roles, Ruth Gorton. In fact, she
won an Oscar for supporting actress. And
there's a scene in the movie where she's
on the phone in a bedroom
and Billy Franker, who was the
cinematographer, told me this story when
he directed me in something at
television. He said, "So, uh, it was the
morning and I set up the shot and there
was a shot, uh, of Ruth sitting on the
bed and you could see the lamp and the
phone and her back was to us and she was
on the bed and it was through the
doorway." And he says, "Roma Palansky
came onto the set after I'd set up the
camera." Palansky looked through the
lens and he went, "No, it's not right.
Uh, move it this way." And so we moved
the camera that way and he said, "No,
move it this way." And move the camera
that way. No, move it this way. Move the
camera. He said, "Now all you could see
was a piece of Ruth Gordon. You could no
longer see the phone. You couldn't see
the lamp. You couldn't see the table.
And you could just see a piece of her
through the doorway." And I said,
"Roman, the you told me you wanted to
see her on the phone." He said, "Yeah,
no, this is right."
He said, "I didn't realize until the
very first preview of the movie. I was
standing in the back of the theater and
the movie was playing and that scene
came up and the entire audience went
like this
and tried to look around the door
because they wanted to see. It's just a
great example of sometimes it's not the
obvious. Sometimes it's holding back,
not giving an audience what they want
that will make them want it even more.
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