The 2nd Floor at 259 West 30th street in NYC, home of the New Actors Workshop. A two year acting conservatory founded by Paul Sills, George Morrison, and Mike Nichols. A humble sized school founded by giants, innovators, master teachers, artists of the highest order. The student body, faculty and administration were humble sized too but, oh so mighty! I was very fortunate to attend this extraordinary school, to be mentored and guided by an amazing talent of teachers.
It's Wednesday in studio 'A'. Lunchtime for us, the students. But before we break for lunch, we prepare the room for our weekly master class. Like a family setting the table, we joke, we tease, we argue; we are always at play.
Stage lights on, windows shaded, the risers assembled, and lastly the chairs. The first two rows are reserved for current students and faculty. The remaining rows for alumni and colleagues of the school. Once completed, we position the last two chairs. One chair is front row center. The other, a director's chair, positioned stage right, on the floor, between the audience and the stage. These two chairs are reserved for our teacher, Mike Nichols.
Everyone seated and in walks Mike to a warm welcoming applause. His face beams as he takes in each and every one of us. Always happy to see us as we are to see him. Mike sits, lights dimmed, one of our teachers announces the first scene by title, author, and the students who will perform that scene. Classes consist of three scenes and perhaps a monologue or two.
After each scene Mike would, usually, want to know what we did, what was our preparation, what was our rehearsal process. His questions posed with deep curiosity. Because, Mike believed this thing that we do, acting, is a mystery. Mike was never one to tell us how to do something. "Do 'A', then do 'B', then...etc". No. That's not how this mystery works because that's not how the bigger mystery, life, works. Very rarely would he give a direct instruction. I played a scene using an accent and he had me play the scene again without the accent. That's about the extent of his direct instruction. Instead, Mike would discuss how we bring ourselves to the scene. "This is like when..."; places an event from our own life that matches what is happening in the scene. "Bring your day", bring ourselves because that's all we have and that is more than enough. "Dare to bore", we don't need to do as much as we think we do; we are a lot more interesting than we give credit. "Why are we gathered here on this night, in this place, at this time?" A question to assist in the discovery of the event of the scene, play, etc. "Play...There's a reason why it's called a 'play'...so, play!" The biggest laughs, those huge belly laughs from the audience come from "Recognition...That's me up there". Truth in everything we do as actors and truth in our lives. This is what Mike asked of us, this is what he asked of himself.
Mike was a deeply sensitive being. He was someone that accepted and acknowledged his mistakes and faults. Some teachers have trouble revealing themselves, especially in aspects that are far from perfect, Mike had no trouble. He set himself as an example to us his students. He reminded us that we are human. Beautiful imperfect people. There was a scene in which Mike felt that one of the student actors was holding back, hiding. Mike immediately felt this and he knew the reason without even probing the student. But, he did make the student aware. The student became very defensive. Mike gently listened and accepted that, at this point in time, the student could not look in the mirror. No judgement, just a hope that this student will one day open up, confront, accept, and move forward. He expressed that hope not with words but with great understanding and patience.
"It's not about you". MOMA was doing a retrospective of Mike's films. I was in the audience the night Mike was in conversation with Elaine May, Nora Ephron, Buck Henry, and Meryl Streep. As I was on line Mike arrived, I greeted him, and he zeroed in on me, "What are you doing here?" He inquired. "To see you", I replied. Mike scanned the room,"How many of you are there?" I knew he meant students, "Just me". Then he walked off. I wasn't upset that he was taken aback by seeing me there because, frankly, I was too entertained. I had never seen Mike so animated before! Later that week, I was outside the school catching some fresh air...okay, I was smoking. Anyway, Mike arrived as I was going inside. We stood waiting for the elevator. I could have taken the stairs but didn't want to seem like I was avoiding him. Of course, the elevator took it's time. I look at Mike. Mike looks at me. We're both awkward. Elevator arrives. We step inside. Doors closed. Mike turns to me, "It was nice to see you the other night. My apologies for acting the way I did. You see..." He gave me his reasons, which were very valid but had nothing to do with me personally. And he made it clear..."It's not about you".
So many of Mike's quotes resonate with me every day. Deep and rich, I discover more and more meaning in his quotes and those from others that he shared. "When in doubt seduce", words he credited to Elaine May. "Fall in Love". Great advice not just for acting but life.'
There were a few master classes that had poor student attendance. On one such occasion, Mike entered the room and and proceeded to voice his feelings. His anger came from disappointment. Proof of his love of teaching. He took a breath, sat down, and apologized for his outburst. "Don't blame those who came". Respect your audience, respect those who are there for you and stand by you, respect those who care about you and believe in you.
Mike taught us the secret to being "charming". He showed us by being charming. Mike Nichols, one of the few EGOTs (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony winner), a director of a stunning array of work, someone that everyone wants to work with, get to know, be in his presence. Mike Nichols, making mistakes, misjudgments, displays of anger and disappointment, shedding tears of joy, tears of sadness, sharing his pain, hopes, fears, wonder, and happiness. We, his students, bore witness to this and that is the secret to being "charming".
Every so often, Mike would give us a reading list as well as assignments. One assignment was for us to ask and record a family member telling a story from their life. We would then all listen back to it, sometimes a student would also perform it as a monologue. Mike developed our powers of observation. Observing human behavior.
Mike, was generous with sharing his friends, he brought in some guest teachers. There was a noticeable trend of Shakespeare scenes in class and so Mike invited an actor he, as well as many others, consider to be one of the greatest American Shakespearean actors, Kevin Kline. Mr. Kline gave us an amazing and invaluable Shakespeare workshop. Many of Mike's friends attended his class. I'd find myself sitting next to Carol Kane and chatting with her at break. At graduations, Mike would bring a guest speaker, like Peter Gallagher, Bill Irwin, and Philip Seymour Hoffman.
At the heart of Mike's teachings were the stories. Stories from his life. These stories had an amazing cast, I'm sure you can imagine, a who's who of huge talents from every field. They were more than stories, they were parables, lessons. Every story was related to what was taking place in class. A very zen approach. You find your own path in those stories, you find answers as well as questions. And with those questions came more answers and so on. Like his quotes, these stories are profound. I find myself, to this day, saying "Ah-ha! That's what Mike meant!". Sometimes, it could be the same quote or story that I thought I had learned everything that I could from only to discover, that there was even more to learn.
Mike reminded us that we have to face the world outside the doors of the school. He stressed the importance of a love of the craft. This love of the craft would help us endure this crazy, nonsensical, and, at times, brutal business known as show business. Our craft is the only thing that we have control over, without that love of the craft we are at the mercy of show business. A love of the craft, that's how we'll survive and persevere. He urged us not to wait around but to go out and make our own work. Get on any stage that we can, act wherever, whenever, and however we can. Mike's hope was that we would all form a company together outside of school. Kirby Mitchell, fellow alumni, wrote three one-acts. We put them up at a small theater in midtown. One of our teachers, also an alumni, directed and the entire cast were all New Actors Workshop students and alumni. Mike attended, he sat in those way too uncomfortable and broken chairs that plague most black box theaters, to support us. After the performance, he humbly knocked on the backstage door, entered and told us how proud he was of us.
Graduation for me was bittersweet. I knew I wasn't saying goodbye because I would and did attend Mike's classes every week. My mom attended graduation. She's handicapped, at the time she used a cane. At the reception I introduced her to Mike. He took her by the arm, kept at her pace, a slow gait, and told her how pleased he was to meet her. Mike had just seen a sample of my writing and he proceeded to tell my mom, "Your son is a wonderful actor but a wonderful writer too. I had no idea!" Made my mom's day and made my lifetime. Even though he might have just said it out of politeness, but of course you know what I would like to believe. My mom certainly believed it, "tell him to give you work". Not that easy, mom.
The New Actors Workshop closed in 2010. On that final day, I hugged Mike, thanked him for all his guidance, and told him I loved him. His reply, "I love you too", in that character reminiscent at the ending of the "Mother and Son" Nichols and May sketch. Since then, I can't watch the sketch without thinking of that moment.
Paul Sills, George Morrison, and Mike Nichols. The founders of the New Actors Workshop, all gone. The three shared this in their teachings, they were constantly evolving, changing, transforming. They kept learning. Learning from their colleagues, their students, the world, the universe, everything life has to offer. How does one capture that in print? An extremely difficult task. The Sills family is gathering Paul's writings, journals, etc. The Morrison family, I've heard through the grapevine, are doing the same. I'm ecstatic and so very appreciative that they are engaging in this Herculean task to spread their teachings. I, personally, really don't know if Mike wrote anything down. As far as I know, it will be up to us, his students and those he worked with, to carry forth and pass on his teachings.
The world will remember Mike as one of the all-time greatest directors of stage and screen. To those who were lucky enough to have worked or studied under him there's more. So much more. When the tributes to Mike began it was very apparent, rare to such a degree even journalists mentioned, that Mike was so very loved by all. I read as many of these tributes as I could including some by my fellow alumni. They all contain the same feeling, love. They conjure images of relationships with Mike that we all shared. Mike Nichols, a mentor, guide, teacher, father figure.
Avoidance!
