We probably all were talented, to a greater or lesser degree, and inexperienced too—in love with acting and convinced that our ability would bring us to the great theatres of this world. We wanted to serve great art, and great art deserved us. That is how we thought then.
Everyday reality looked rather different. The first lesson we had to learn was that drama students kiss and hug always and everywhere. The great figures showed us how. We fell in love with all and sundry, and smoked whatever was offered to us. A year later, when new pupils turned up, we proudly presented ourselves as advanced drama students.
Instead of declaiming Schiller and Shakespeare on stage we first had to learn our craft. Fencing, tap-dancing, singing. Throwing and catching imaginary balls. Recognizing, with closed eyes, fellow students by their hands. What all that had to do with great art only became apparent to us very slowly. We wanted to be on stage. When we were at long, long last allowed to walk the boards, we quickly understood that a dark stage could be the loneliest place in the world.
It is not at all easy for outsiders to comprehend what is supposedly so difficult about learning a few sentences by heart and then presenting them. Of course there is stage fright, but what else？ The most complex thing of all is simply walking across the stage. One never quite gets that right. A person crossing a stage is not simply someone walking, but a person acting a pa