Chapter 3
Seeking Safety

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Emily had been waiting outside of my office door and looked visibly unsettled. I had just told her class that they were to choose partners for three scenes of violence to be presented at the end of the semester. To keep things simple I had thought that having the students pick only one partner with whom they could coordinate schedules would be the most efficient way to go about it. Of course, there was a wrinkle I had not anticipated.

"I'm stuck with Tom. I emailed the whole class and everyone already has a partner and no one wants to work with him. I really want to do the best I can on this assignment and I don't feel I can do my best work with him." This, of course, was a legitimate concern in her mind. Everyone has or will be in a situation where something must be accomplished and one gets partnered with a person lacking in skill, desire, or both. Or perhaps the personal social circumstances surrounding the pairing are not ideal. Whatever the case, there are impediments to the work before it even begins because of a perceived inequity.

I reminded Emily that since we were in a training program for actors that this could be considered part of her training. Often in the professional world it happens more often than not that we are stuck with a fellow actor whom for whatever the reasons we find it difficult to work with. This instance, however disappointing, could be viewed as an opportunity to work smarter and with more presence. It could even lead to a better product because of the extra care taken in cultivating the partnership.

After attempting to lead her through the possible silver linings to the partnership Emily fell silent and then drew a long breath. "I just don't feel safe with him." She had played the trump card. This was the one phrase that no one could argue her or for that fact anyone out of. The feeling of not being in a position of complete safety, physical or psychological, is a strong driver to the development and outcome of any scenario especially in an artistic and academic environment. If someone identifies that they feel unsafe it is nearly impossible to refute that perception because everyone's level of comfort with what is perceived as dangerous and what is perceived as safe can be wildly different given the exact same scenario. The feeling of safety is just that – a feeling. And feelings cannot be invalidated. Feelings may be judged (as they all too often are) but as much as we may try we can never negate a feeling in others nor in ourselves.

I didn't attempt to sway her mind about this. Even though I knew Tom to be a gentle person and well-meaning, he certainly had his challenges both physically and conceptually with the material, which could lead to possible safety issues down the road. If these problems had started to emerge, however, I would have been confident that Tom and Emily could work them out with assistance and create a fine final product in performance. But this was a lot of faith that I could see Emily did not possess at this moment. All she could do was fixate on her present feelings. And when we feel our current or future safety is being compromised it is difficult for the mind to focus on anything else.

As a compromise I suggested that the assignment be changed so that everyone had three partners, one for each scene, Emily still had to overcome any challenges of working with Tom but she no longer had to feel saddled by the circumstance of being partners with Tom for all of the assignments. She seemed slightly relieved at this. While I tried to allay any residual fears of still working with Tom the anxiety in her face and body returned even as she was walking out the door. Such is the effect on the human body when we feel helpless about our own personal safety.

This sentiment about safety is not surprising considering the social and political climate of the past 15 years. A premium has been placed on the concept of "safety" in an unprecedented way. The word "safety" itself generally refers to the quality of averting or not causing injury, danger, or loss. As human beings we typically seek safety and avoid loss of any kind. It is a feeling that leads to personal action to avoid such danger. There are more factors contributing to this than anyone could list. It seems we are inundated with occurrences of violent ferocity on a near daily basis, both domestically and internationally. From the contemporary armed conflicts between countries that get so much airtime on the nightly news to the increased awareness of racial, sexual, and domestic violence, it seems that we cannot escape the feeling that we are beset on all sides by a world that is out to get us.

It is not strange, however, that human beings are fascinated by violence. The desire to view violence from a position of safety is very strong. From a distance we can see what happens more clearly, comment on it, and of course in most instances condemn it for being so horrible that it occurred at all. This can be seen even though our athletic contests utilize violence as a means of competition. Whether it's American football, hockey, boxing, or mixed martial arts there is always an audience for spectacles that employ violence as a salient component.

When violence is brought to bear immediately on an individual the responses are quite different and are as varied as snowflakes in winter. Every single person will have a nuanced response to a threat to personal safety that is particular to that person. It's like a thumbprint. No two reactions are quite the same. Perhaps that's part of why human violent interactions are so strangely fascinating. While we may be able to predict what the outcome will be we can never be entirely certain of that prediction. Moreover, there is no way to tell how that violence will be meted out. Quite simply we need to see what happens.

Even though the pathways of the violence are always distinct from one occurrence to another there are three responses to violence that can be applied to every instance whether it is violence applied to individuals, entities, or countries. When faced with a threat to safety the question is simple: how much of this threat can I handle on my own or how much help do I need from someone who is better equipped to handle this threat? Sometimes the mechanism for handling the threat is all of one or the other. Sometimes it is a combination of personal response coupled with outside support. Whatever the particular strategies involved in the response they can all be placed into one of these three groups of response to a given threat.

What I have observed over the years in working with young acting students and professional actors is that for the most part these people fall into the middle camp. When in the studio or the rehearsal room these artists and students will typically defer to an outside source to keep them safe when they feel that safety is threatened. That outside source for a production is typically and should be the stage manager. But in most instances when I am brought in as a fight director to choreograph a physical conflict that outside source invariably becomes myself. In the classroom this circumstance is even more prevalent because as the instructor of record I am tasked with imparting not only information, but also providing a space hi which these students can develop a very particular skill set. No matter what the environment there must be a concerted effort by everyone involved to look out for one another so that the task of creating the best possible sustainable performance can be accomplished.

It's day one of a new class for a course I was to teach on American Realism. We were to study the origins of the Group Theatre in the 1930s and work on plays from the American theatrical tradition including Odets and Williams. But before we could jump in I needed to get to know the students. Also, despite being in class with each other for multiple semesters, I reckoned the students could stand to get to know each other a bit better too. If we were studying the origins of the American ensemble we might as well start emulating it in whatever way we could. We started with questions: What's your favorite food? Who are you most like in your family? What makes you laugh? What makes you cry? Finally we arrived at the question, what was your first memory of seeing theatre that made you want to be a part of it. The responses were as varied as you might think from seeing a first Broadway production to seeing an older brother in a high school play. As it came around the group one student, Jake, remarked about seeing a high school production that was enthralling for him. In the act of remembering it he seemed to recall each aspect of the production more vividly as he went on. Suddenly he recalled having the thought, "It's like church, but I care." The words came to him as if by surprise. The class nodded and vocalized in agreement. What was this element of the theatrical experience that Jake had so suddenly remembered? Was it due to the sets? The characters? The story? The music? Some impressive spectacle in the production? It seemed that all of these individual elements were woven together in such a way as to create an environment where audience and cast shared in a common experience. There was, if only for a moment, no division between performer and audience, the stage and the house. The performers and the audience had created a space where for a moment Jake cared about what was going to happen in that space during that time.

When we talk about creating a safe space we need to recognize all of the elements that live in that space and how they interact, or can interact with one another. At the most basic level, this journey of seeking safety must begin with one tiling: care. We must care about what happens in that space. The quality of interaction must be attended to and agreed upon. We must first care about what happens to us. We must also and no less importantly care about what happens to everything and everybody that shares the space with us. It is only through examining this dynamic of interlocutors that the participants can arrive at a common agreement of what makes the space safe for everyone.

There is a popular phrase that has been in the stage combat world for as long as I can remember. My first teacher introduced it to us on the first day in graduate school and repeated it often throughout our training. In books on the subject it is likewise stated very clearly and repeated like a mantra. This phrase, by all accounts, seems to be one of the inviolable guidelines of stage combat: "Victim Control." The origin of this concept isn't exactly known but its reasoning seems immediately apparent. The idea of the victim being in control comes from a very well intentioned place. If the aim of violence on stage is to re-create a violent moment between characters that is repeatable night after night, eight shows a week, then it must be a certainty that any of the actors engaging in the violence are not in any actual physical danger that would prevent them from continuing to perform in the show. What better way to ensure this than to put the victim, or the performer receiving the action, in control of the violent situation so that he or she can control the level of interaction? As much as we may rely on others to look out for us, are we not ultimately responsible for our own safety?

With the victim in control, the actor performing the action is essentially along for the ride, responding to the level of violent interaction that the victim is most comfortable with. The theory seems sound, does it not? Let's see what happens when we put this theory into practice immediately. I grab Ted; Ted throws himself to the ground. I push Ted; he reels backward 10 feet. I pull Ted's hair; he thrashes about wildly in an effort to get away. We see the action and the reaction very clearly. Violent action in, violent reaction out. We as actors feel safe because Ted is in control of every interaction. But when the director watches us he or she is dissatisfied. "It doesn't look right," they may say, "What are we doing wrong?" we may ask. We seem to be doing the action and the reaction as prescribed; the victim is in control so we know it's safe, and we're acting the snot out of the moment, "It just seems fake (or stage-y, or wrong, or unconnected)," the director replies. The stage manager has been recording us in rehearsal so we take a look at the video. When we see it Ted and I are a little embarrassed. It does seem a bit overwrought. I'm acting up a storm on the push, showing a lot of puffed up strength but when it comes to actually pushing Ted it's obvious that I'm holding back. Ted is throwing himself violently back upon my hands contacting his torso but the force with which he throws himself seems nowhere close to the force with which I push him. But it's safe because he is in control. What's the problem?

The problem is that Ted and I have had no conversation. Ted and I have investigated the violent moment neither physically nor verbally. I have no idea what level of force Ted can take on the push because I didn't ask him. I assumed he'd be in control so I merely made a push-like gesture and he would presumably take care of the rest. What happens is what some acting teachers would call the worst kind of acting: indicating. I was indicating the action of a push, not really doing it. Ted was indicating the reaction to my push, not really reacting to it. How do we fix this?

The first thing we have to do is talk to one another. That means actors talk to each other, along with the director and fight director and stage manager about the expectations of the fight. First everyone must agree on the nature of the interaction. What are we trying to convey? Do we want the fight to be rough and tumble, scrappy, and messy like most fights between two untrained fighters are? Or perhaps we are looking for something more fluid and lyrical like a fight might be between two martial arts masters. We must talk about style before anything else can occur. If we are not in the right context for the violence the techniques run the risk of looking too neutral, antiseptic, and ultimately unconnected to the world of the play.

Next we should talk about how each character views this fight (refer to the diagram in Chapter 6, Characters in Conflict section for quick decisions about a character's reaction to violence). Do both characters want to fight? Are they accustomed to violence or not? Are other people viewing the violence? How does that affect the way each character behaves while enacting or receiving the violence? These are just a few of the questions both actors should be asking and answering in order to understand the nature of the fight and the characters' reactions to it.

Now that those questions have been posed, both actors can now more fully investigate the form and quality of the moves that could possibly exist in this altercation. If the physical violence starts with a push like the one described previously then there are a variety of ways that push can be performed for both the operator (the person giving the push) and the receiver (the person receiving the push.)

We need to have a common process through which we can investigate the physical moves together. The most common fear I find with actors is not so much that they fear getting hurt but rather that they fear hurting someone else. There are three primary elements to which we must attend in order to be absolutely certain we are taking care of our partners and ourselves.

The first of these indispensable safety elements is eye contact. We must be certain that we are looking at the person or object that intends to come swinging, flying, or spinning after us. Now let me be clear – eye contact does not necessarily mean that you look into the eyes of your partner all the time and leave it at that. Initial eye-to-eye contact with your partner can be very stirring dramatically. It also lets you know if and when in fact your partner is ready for action. But once the fists and lamps and chairs start flying we must be able to shift our ocular, bi-focal direction to whatever is most threatening to us at any moment. That means look with both eyeballs not just out of your periphery. While use of peripheral vision, or "soft focus," can be useful, reliance on it may get you into more trouble than not because if you are taking in too many smaller, peripheral details at once then you may not be paying attention to the toaster rocketing towards your face.

The partner who is initiating the action should look at the target he or she is attacking. If the performer is attacking a certain body part of the receiver of the violent action, that performer must look at the target that is to be injured. This serves two purposes. First it gives the actor receiving the action a clear indication of where the next attack is coming. In martial arts this is commonly referred to as "telegraphing" a move or to give advance notice of when and where a strike is going to land. While this may be undesirable in an actual fight, on stage it is necessary to establish communication between actors. The more specific the target, the more clear the intent of the attack. When looking at the target to be attacked, the actor should not just think in general terms such as, "I am attacking the leg." Rather the actor should find a more specific location such as, "l am attacking the middle of the hamstring." To go even further the actor must not only know exactly what portion of the body he or she wants to attack, but how the attack is happening (a punch, a kick, a bite, etc,) as well as the desired effect of the attack if it were to succeed (I expect the hamstring to bruise, to bleed, to snap in half, etc.).

Finally, eye contact with a specific target also helps to more clearly express the exact story being told at that moment to an audience. Human beings have an uncanny knack of looking at what other people are looking at first. Looking at something communicates to others that the tiling being observed is important. Looking at a specific target with the intent to cause particular harm at an exact moment when two actors are moving in concert with each other is necessary to create a dramatic instant where the audience will actually be concerned about the consequence of that action. If any of the above moments involving eye contact are hazy, undirected, or lacking specificity in any way then the the illusion of danger is dispelled; the violence is lost.

The second safety factor is distance. In actual fighting, assuming both participants want to engage in the fight, the combatants are always looking to close distance. Closing distance is the absolute necessary component for ensuring that damage can be done to a human body. For theatrical violence a certain prescribed distance must be maintained between the actors in order to decrease the possible injuries that could arise should the distance collapse. Generally the further away two actors are from each other the less likely an injury will result from a violent action. But this is not always the case. Some techniques such as restraining, choking, or grabbing the hair, necessitate the actors to be close enough to lay hands on each other. The challenge then becomes for the actors to keep a dynamic scene going with changing distances while negotiating a wide variety of violent actions that involve both contact and non-contact techniques.

The third safety factor is timing. As mentioned in the training section, use of tempo is very important. We must be able to perform actions at any speed to truly understand them. Let us say for the sake of argument that Ted and I, in conjunction with the director, have decided that when I push Ted it needs to be significant enough to make Ted contact the wall five feet behind him. If Ted is raring to go and moves his own body before I have an opportunity to move into a good position where it seems like I could actually push him, the moment will look fake and unconnected because it is all generated by Ted and not a result of the interaction. If I push Ted before he is ready then it is possible that Ted will be pushed in such a way that he may injure himself because he was unprepared to receive the energy. Ted and I must practice this moment at a slower tempo where we are both responding to each other at every subdivided moment throughout the whole of the movement. Only then can we deeply know what the true nature of the interaction is physically. If we both know the moment physically inside and out then we can make more informed choices about what is happening emotionally and psychologically. At this point our internal choices may lead us to alter the movement in order to bring the physical and the psychological in line with one another. Only then will we increase the speed to see how quickly we can actually perform the moment and keep all of our choices intact. Our top speed will be a shared speed. We share the tempo as in a dance to be in time with each other. If our tempo is out-of-synch the pitfalls and potential for injury mentioned above will become clear and the illusion of violence will be shattered.

This is a side note, but no less important – being unprepared to receive force is never a position anyone, performer or otherwise, wants to be in. The body knows how to protect itself and prepares itself to receive the least amount of damage given the incoming force typically by relaxing and trying to match the vector (force and direction) of the blow. If the body is completely relaxed and unprepared to receive a blow sprains, broken bones, or unconsciousness can often occur. It is the blow you never see coming that knocks you out. However, we still need to train the body and refine its response to force as too much tension in the body during impact can actually cause more damage than is avoided. Training to see and feel blows will become important in training to develop the sensitivity to receive this kind of force.

Being able to transfer energy is an important component of being a performer. There must always be conduits of energy passing between performers and from the performers to and from the audience. However, for our purposes here, the transfer of actual physical energy must be attended to with the utmost care. As a result we must now add a fourth factor in maintaining safety. This is the awareness of the magnitude of the force being applied in a given action. When either designing violence for a show, performing a violent moment with a fellow actor, or teaching combat for actor training, the most common concern for a performer (myself included) is not so much, "I don't want to get hurt," as "I don't want to hurt the other person." Force and quality of touch must be very carefully attended to so that both performers are comfortable with the energy that is being transferred at each moment of contact. That being said, of course every performer wants to engage physically with any situation, especially a violent one, with as much vigor and connectivity to those heightened emotional states as possible. A maxim to remember is, "Go as hard as you can, or as hard as your partner can take." Inequities in partners during work are common, particularly physical ones. One partner may be able to take more force through a strike than another. How much force an actor can take should never be assumed through appearance alone (a heavily muscled actor may actually bruise quite easily or a diminutive actor may be unusually resilient.) Rather a mutual understanding of the appropriate amount of energy to use should be found through experimentation and investigation of varying levels of force through contact.

In order to methodically investigate the possibilities for contact between partners we can use a scale of force between 1 and 10. On the low side of the scale, 1 would represent a light touch that transfers minimal force. On the high side of the scale, 10 would represent the heaviest hit possible by the operator of the action. When first working with a new partner, it is advisable to only work with the scale from 1-7. When two performers get very comfortable working together the 3 highest ratings of the scale can then be explored. Before each moment of contact, the operator of the action should verbally declare the exact technique, target on the partner, and the amount of force that is intended. For example, "I'm going to punch you in the middle of the stomach at a 6." This verbal communication is key to foster trust and encourage conversation between the performers.

Keep in mind that this number system is not an absolute scale. It is a relative scale depending on the agreement between the two partners working. It is shared between them. One partnership may have contact at a 5 while in another partnership that same seeming level of contact is rated at a 3. The most important thing here is that both partners agree between the two of them exactly what level of force feels right for each number. This can only be done by experimentation, practice, and trial-and-error. After every contact, the performers should verbally check in with each other to make sure that the perceived force of the operator of the action is identical to the perceived force of the receiver of the action. This should be done until the entire number system is covered. At this point the performers can shift up and down the scale at will to see how accurately they can change the force applied in a given moment. Be careful of large changes in value such as 2 to 8 which have a greater chance of becoming imprecise in their execution because of such a large shift in a short amount of time. Once again, gradual practice and communication are vital.

In the examples before, Ted and I establish trust with each other not only through this process of working physically. We also talk to each other about what is working and what is not. But really when it comes down to it no other person, no director, fight director, stage manager, props master, or fellow actor can guarantee without a shadow of a doubt one's own personal safety. Others can help in the quest to be vigilant and participate in helping the actor stay safe. But we have another word for other people looking after a person's safety: security. Security is defined as "freedom from care, anxiety, or doubt; well-founded confidence; something that makes safe, protection." Embedded in the definition of "security" is the word "safe." They are certainly linked. However, it would seem that the definition "something that makes safe" is predicated on the presence of another being or entity. This is the crux of how people get confused between "'safety" and "security." As much as the people in charge may talk about the safety of performers through the course of mounting a production, you as a performer must know that at the end of the day no one is going to be more concerned about your health and safety than you (ok, maybe your morn.) Other people can put guidelines and rules in place but those won't help you in the moment when something goes awry. In that moment you must rely on your training and good judgment to keep you safe. You must now and always be an active participant in your own safety. Others can help us feel more secure. Others provide security. Safety is the gift we give ourselves.

Actions and Reactions

"That roundhouse-duck combo was crap." The words jarred in my ears as I sat there and listened to a senior instructor give feedback to two of my graduate students on their fight scene. I thought I had misheard my colleague. Had he meant to describe the students' work in that way? Surely this was some slip or a desire to bring some levity to the somewhat stressful exercise of listening to immediate feedback to artistic work. I glanced at the faces of the two students sitting across the table from my colleague. The comment didn't seem to land on them the way it had been intended. All I could see was bemusement on their faces. "There was no responsiveness to the action of the roundhouse," my colleague continued. "You swung before the other guy had a chance to duck so you ended up missing him by a mile." Of course! The comment made sense after that explanation. He was referring to an acronym used for decades in stage combat training to describe technically the system for not hitting a partner on a planned miss. This has been professionally referred to as the CUEREACTION-ACTION Principle or C.R.A.P. Most people who have taken a class in theatrical combat with weapons or without have probably been exposed to this acronym at least once. In fact I make sure to introduce the concept and the acronym in my combat classes for the sole purpose that somewhere in an actor's continued training he or she will hear it again from another instructor. I had been in communication with colleagues years ago to see if anyone knew about the exact origin of the use of Cue-Reaction-Action. I got as many ideas about the original use of the phrase as I did responses. Of those, numerous colleagues who had been fight directors for decades attributed its first use to one of their own classes. This phrase has been around for so long and become so indoctrinated in the instruction of violence on stage that its origin has been claimed by the most experienced practitioners in the field. Its exact origins as a result seem ultimately unknowable.

This is not to say that every instructor out there uses C.R.A.P exclusively. There are probably half a dozen other similar sequences in use by instructors. In his book, Actors On Guard, SAFD Fight Master Dale Girard uses one such variation. While this book deals exclusively with historical rapier and dagger techniques adapted for stage and screen, the mechanics of initiating and responding to an attack are still essentially the same. Girard suggests a different sequence: ACTION-REACTION-ACTION where the first "Action" is the preparation to attack, the "Reaction" is the acted response to the aggressive initiation, and the final "Action" is the completion of the offensive and defensive movements together, each movement flowing continuously from one into the other. This is a splendid alternative and seems so much closer to what actually occurs between two people locked in physical conflict. If we were to spell out the acronym of it we find A.R.A. It has a nice symmetry to it but alas no linguistic connection to anything other than a constellation or the American Railway Association. Also, the emphasis on the word "Action" is not only put to the fore but repeated, instilling in the performer a sense of the action being the most important element in this moment. Additionally the use of the concept of completion where both performers finish their moves together in the same time is critical when examining the wholeness of the interaction.

Performers are an excitable bunch and as such are typically very enthused to begin at anything. The start holds so much promise. When the moment of action comes they throw themselves into it (Leap and the net will appear!) waiting to see what the effect might be. However, when the moment has happened, they freeze as though they are perhaps hoping to capture the moment like a fly trapped in amber. Then they move on or start again like being hypnotized in a trance as though nothing happened. They do not move through the event, the choice, the technique to discover what the effect of what they just did had on themselves or the world. I find this to be true of many young performers. Sometimes the trap of young performers is to play a mood (happy, sad, angry, etc.) and never waver from that choice of mood for an entire five-minute scene. Oftentimes young performers of talent have wonderful instincts and the ability to make bold choices. However, they abandon the choices after three seconds and move on to something else sometimes entirely unrelated to what happened before. There is no sense of completion of a moment. And since there is no completion of one moment there is no chance of connectivity to any moment thereafter. One must complete a moment to discover the consequence of it, Only then can another choice be made, an informed one, of how one will try to change the course of events.

Of course, none of this mattered in this moment my students got feedback from my colleague. Their bemusement turned to being crestfallen at realizing their work and art were being described repeatedly with the word "crap." I knew they would normally recognize what the acronym meant in the context of an attack that is avoided but in the moment of taking notes on a performance they did not hear that. Nor could they see the capitals of the acronym my colleague was referencing. All they heard was a word that was synonymous with human excrement being used to describe a moment in their scene. As technically accurate as the note may have been the damage it did to the ability of the actors to review their work without judgement was irreparable. I had been taking this acronym for granted for so long I was blind to its implications until that moment. No matter what the instance, I don't want anything that I teach or perform in my art to ever be referred to as "crap." There must be a better way to refer to this part of the work. In scrutinizing the use of the acronym C.R.A.P. I hope to have instructors and choreographers of stage combat re-examine the professional use of certain codified words regarding both the intent and effect of the perceived meaning. I believe this is not only important for instructors to understand but students and performers as well who want to be mindful with the use of professional language.

Let's break down each element that makes up this C.R.A.P. I will skip the word "cue" for a moment but come back to it very shortly. I would rather get to the heart of the matter and the heart of the acronym: the relationship between action and reaction. As it stands with the C.R.A.P the reaction precedes the action. Why is this? Embedded in the principle is the caveat that the person doing the reaction (typically an avoidance of the strike that is incoming) will perform their reaction first so as to vacate the threatened area. The person performing the action or attack only then has the permission to fully realize the action to completion. The sequencing of completing the reaction before the action creates distance and ensures safety. The only problem with this is it's backwards. The physical world that we all share operates by very specific principles of motion. The study of this in its purest form belongs to the realm of Physics. I was not a great student of the sciences in my time at college but I was aware enough (or perhaps foolish enough as indicated by my final undergrad GPA) to take a few courses that covered the basics. Most, if not all, of these courses started with a nod to Sir Isaac Newton. Newton observed that there were three laws of motion that every physical body observed. I would posit that most people would be hard pressed to recite all three verbatim. However, there is one of Newton's laws, the third, which I would wager most people know by heart: "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction." As far as I know no one has ever refuted this law. And why would anyone? It seems so simple and obvious. If we take a look at the third law closely we see that the order of events seems to flow nicely. The action precedes the reaction. The reaction follows the action. Newton could have easily said, "For every reaction there is an equal and opposite action." What if he had said this? Would everyone have accepted this so well-known law so easily? I'm not so sure. After all the word "reaction" already has the word "action" in it. A reaction is a response to an action. If we were to just focus on the words from an etymological standpoint, it would make sense that the word "action" preceded "reaction" in usage since the latter seems to derive its root from the former. If this is the way that language and the laws of motion have developed the relationship between action and reaction why would we ever treat it as happening in reverse?

This begs the question: how does the person who is doing the reacting stay safe? Doesn't that person need to know what the other person is doing for staged moments of violence? Rehearsal of choreography beforehand certainly helps with this but in the moment shouldn't there be something more to help the performers communicate with one another to ensure safety? Cue the word "cue!" The word "cue" has various meanings. To be clear we are not speaking of the object involved in playing the game of billiards. The American Heritage Second Edition lists the word "cue" with a second definition as "A word or a bit of stage business signaling the beginning of an action. A reminder or prompting as a signal to do something. A hint or suggestion. A perceived signal for action, especially one that produces an operant response." Its initial definition under this heading is inherently theatrical. It defines the word in relation to "a bit of stage business." Since we are speaking of something that has to do with the performing arts then to find this included in the definition should be no surprise. It is also "a signal for action." This too seems appropriate since in this interaction one performer is doing something that spurs the other person to respond.

So the CUE-REACTION-ACTION Principle actually seems to make sense in and of itself. So where's the problem? The problem is that it is completely self-referential. The sequence is simply a statement about itself and what is going on with no relation to story, character, or even the natural world, In a closed system it would be perfect. But theatre (and if I may paint with a broad stroke all of art) and all that it contains is not nor should ever be a closed system. The things we do in it 110 matter how we describe them must be in relationship to something or someone else. Everything, even the description of technique, must be resonant.

Where does this leave us? Shall we return to Sir Isaac? Let us take the premise that every action has an equal and opposite reaction as true. In this case we will now have the CUE-ACTION-RE ACTION Principle or C A.R.P. This, while perhaps initially appealing as another word-like acronym is somewhat unsatisfactory in that the word "carp" means "to find fault with unreasonably." Even though it may feel at times that directors and critics do exactly this when it comes to the performing arts we need not be reminded of it in your process. So let's keep going.

Let's go back to the word "cue" and its innate theatricality. Let's assume that we are not talking about a stylized moment in a performance, not one that requires an absurdist or meta-moment where we deconstruct a physical action and show all the guts of it. Rather we just want to see two people in a violent interaction, have it be revealing of character, fit into the logical progression of the story, and as an audience be moved by it. If this is the case then why have the theatrically technical cue at all? Why not simply perform the action? One might object that this would be unfair and even unsafe to the receiver of the violence in that they won't be prepared for it. But theatre is a cooperative endeavor. So I would assume that the actor initiating the violence would not want to catch the actor receiving it unawares. If this is a well-rehearsed moment (and it should be!) the actors would have already agreed upon when the slap will occur – after this line, before this cross downstage left, when the lights change, etc. So there is in fact already a cue. Why add a demonstrable physical cue when a theatrical one is most likely already in place? Adding cue upon cue only unnecessarily adds to the time leading up to the moment. If we were to do this for every moment then the show would be over 3 hours long and everyone would be late to the pub for the after show pint. And we can't have that can we?

But what about keeping the actor who is receiving the violence as safe as possible? Isn't it worth it to have the extra cue so this is so? If the actor on the receiving end is not actually paying attention to the other actor then no amount of cueing will keep anyone safe. We demand a razor-sharp attention and skill of our performers when it comes to every other aspect of theatre – singing, dancing, speaking, emotional truth – why should we not expect the same when it comes to a moment of violence that is potentially dangerous for the actor? Instead of having the actor looking for the cue, let's shift the focus to the action. That is the important part after all! By focusing more on the action, we know it better. We know where it comes from, what it is in the moment it happens, and what the effect is after the action has occurred. Additionally, by not putting over-emphasis on the cue in the technique, this will help the actor to not over-emphasize the beginning of the physical action. I have observed too often on stage that one character makes a very sudden preparatory gesture for a slap, punch, kick, or grapple only to slow down the action during the actual moment when the violence occurs. The cue is strong but the action is weak. If the actors are truly paying attention to each other and reacting in time to each other cooperatively to keep each other safe then we don't need the cue. We already know when it's coming because we rehearsed it. When it comes down to it, we're actually cueing each other all the time. Not just on stage but in life. We give ourselves away more than we know especially when it comes to where our focus is. So in actuality your partner is already cueing you. You just need to pay more attention to see it.

So we have bid a fond farewell to the "cue." Don't worry, it's still there. It hasn't gone away. We now trust our partners a bit more to share the same timing as us and we shift our focus to the action. Now we have the ACTION-REACTION Principle or A.R.P. One more letter at the front and we may start to suggest that the theatre only comprises those over the age of 50. But theatre takes all comers so let's keep going to avoid any confusion. Let's talk about beginnings and endings. For every story there is a beginning, a middle, and an end. I would suggest that there are many miniature stories for every moment, every gesture, and every action within that story. Likewise these mini-stories, these moments, these actions have a beginning, a middle, and an end as well. The genesis of this story is the action. The action launches the relationship and the story on a particular trajectory. Next comes the reaction. By reacting in a way that only that character can react to the action, the other actor can have a say in what direction this story and relationship will proceed. This is the middle of the story where the story and relationships can and must change. But does it end there? Of course not because we need an ending! But what is the end to this mini-story of the violent action? After the violence has occurred can things ever be the way they were before? Keep in mind for dramatic purposes there is (and always should be) a reason why the violence was written in where it was by the writer. It signals a tectonic shift in the relationship between two people. Things can never be quite the same way again after one human being has decided to be violent towards another. All too often I have seen good actors who have invested so heavily in a character and a scene throw all that lovely work away after a moment of violence has occurred. Two actors will be so wonderfully connected throughout the scene and then a slap happens, or a punch, or even a shove. And those same actors will play the rest of the scene as though nothing had happened. There is no end to that story. There is no end because they did not take the time to follow through with the effect of the violence and give the full weight to the aftermath of the action and the reaction. There is 110 sense of completion. We must realize the completion of one moment before we can go on to the next one.

Now we have our beginning, middle, and end. If we put this to our sequence now we have the ACTION-REACTION-COMPLETION Principle or A.R.C.P. The word "principle" seems a bit like a hanger-on. It doesn't really reveal anything additional. It merely reminds us on how important something may be. In my time of studying and working as an actor I have come to realize that most principles of acting typically turn into guidelines. They may start as something we hold on to dearly but as we progress in skill and trust ourselves and the people we work with more and more we tend to rely less on rules and more on each other. If we get rid of the filial letter what we are left with is ACTION-REACTION-COMPLETION or A.R.C. Now if we take the periods out we are simply left with ARC. For the word "arc" there are many definitions mostly regarding circles, electric current, and heavenly bodies. There is one definition that comes closest to something related to the theatre and that is the sixth definition from the Merriam-Webster online dictionary: "a continuous progression or line of development." This fits rather nicely into the matrix of anything to do with storytelling. We often speak of the arc of a story when speaking about a play. We also talk about the arc of a character when discussing how that character fits into the story. The word "arc" seems to play nicely with all aspects of our theatrical endeavors.

Changing language, especially codified language whether codified by policy or custom, can be difficult. We exist, we think, we have feelings and thoughts, and then we express those thoughts through language. Pretty soon we find ourselves stuck with a word for a thought. As thoughts change and refine themselves through our experience we find that our needs require new words and new language to better express or define the essence of what we truly mean. The acronym C.R.A.P has done yeoman service for quite some time. As a technical description of the physical process for staged violence it is accurate. However, as we strive to integrate our physical systems with our artistic endeavors more and more, thinking about systemic language that fits in seems to be the path to follow. Referring to the process by which we create violent choreography for performance through the acronym A.R.C is a step in the right direction. As artists we must cease to think of our art as crap and think of our work as having more arc.