You Should Take That Stage Combat Class. Here’s Why…

Coming from a Stage Combat teacher and Fight Choreographer, this probably sounds pretty self-serving on my part, but please hear me out.  What is our job as actors and performers?  That’s always my first question at any beginner Stage Combat workshop.  What is our job? At the end of the day, it has a relatively simple answer.  

We tell STORIES!  Stage Combat is PHYSICAL storytelling.

I’m going to take a quick moment to debunk, as it were, one of the common misunderstandings that I hear quite frequently before I delve into why I think Stage Combat is ESSENTIAL for any performer.

“Stage Combat just FEELS fake” or “I would never fight someone that way.”  

Well, that’s kind of the point.  Stage Combat isn’t so much a study of fighting as it is a study of SAFETY.  One of the mantras I heard over and over again when starting out was, “Safety first, safety last, safety always.” When all is said and done, especially when working Fight Choreography for stage, the most essential goal is to make sure everyone involved is safe and can repeat the choreography night after night.  If you ever watch a real fight, you’ll notice you can barely follow along with what’s happening.  That’s not what we want.  Again, we need to tell a story.  What feels unnatural is necessary for us to effectively communicate to an audience what’s going on.  In short, we’re not looking for something that looks “real”, reality is subjective.  You and I can witness the same event and have entirely different perspectives on it.  What we want is to tell a story that is BELIEVABLE within our given circumstances.

When you go to any kind of acting school, you are learning different techniques from different teachers with different schools of thought.  You have Meisner, Stanislavski, Viewpoints, etc.  Ultimately, every performer going through this process will eventually pick and choose the best tools for them and keep it in their acting toolbox.  With that in mind, I want to delve into all the different tools one can acquire from taking Stage Combat classes.

PARTNERING 

Success or failure in any branch of the performing arts is, for the most part, heavily reliant on partnering.  Collaboration is such an integral aspect in this business, where so many different departments must show up and bring their A game to create something truly spectacular. This is especially true in Stage Combat.  As one of my first teachers once said, “My job is to keep my partner safe and make them look good.  If my partner is doing the same, we have a successful partnership and are able to tell an exciting story, while keeping everyone safe.”  If listening and reacting to a scene partner is crucial to tell an effective story on stage, it is absolutely essential for our purposes in Stage Combat.  Studying this art form has helped me hone my receptive skills and assisted me in connecting with my partners on stage.  Since a lot of our cooperation with fights on stage has to be non-verbal, it helps to foment a kind of sixth sense with the rest of the cast and crew.

STAKES AND INTENTION

I don’t know about you but one of the most common notes I received in acting class was “Raise the stakes.”  As a person for whom English was a second language, the first couple of times had me worried I had somehow enrolled in a culinary school.  Stakes and Intention are paramount in telling our stories.  It’s what helps draw in the audience as it allows them to connect with the characters on a more emotional and visceral level.  Studying Stage Combat requires you to explore the ideas of breath and vocals.  A lot of times, what makes a fight interesting is not necessarily how cool or flashy the moves are, but the moments IN BETWEEN the moves.  How does Tybalt react to an angry Romeo hellbent on avenging his friend’s death?  What is Macbeth’s mental state when he finds out that Macduff was “from his mother’s womb untimely ripped?”  In musicals, characters burst out into song when their emotions reach a point where words are no longer enough; they HAVE to SING.  It is the same with Stage Combat.  Violence happens in our stories when words are no longer enough and the only recourse is to get PHYSICAL.

BODY AWARENESS

Whether you’re a performer who only does plays, or musicals, or both, performing requires a good amount of physical stamina, as well as body awareness.  It doesn’t matter whether you are working on multiple dance numbers or really specific blocking; having a good knowledge and relationship with your own body is crucial.  I have worked with students who arrive barely able to tell right from left (a slight exaggeration), and leave with a deeper connection with their bodies.  They are more specific in their movements, which in turn aids them in being able to tell a wide variety of stories with their bodies.

 DIRECTOR’S EYE

While not something you can necessarily master from just one Stage Combat class, one of the most helpful tools I walked away with was a better understanding of the Director’s Eye.  So much of what we do to keep each other safe and sell a fight sequence on stage relies heavily on angles and, you probably guessed it, marks. Being able to calculate and adjust your distance with your partner, how far Upstage Right you have to be, how long must you extend your arm, are just some of the aspects that come up when performing a fight onstage. Work on this art form long enough, and you start to develop a better sense of that outside eye, which can be invaluable for performing onstage, especially when we start dealing with a thrust stage or theater in the round.

TRAINING DURING COVID

COVID-19 has affected every single aspect of our industry.  However, if there’s anything artists are universally known for, it’s adapting.  The Stage Combat community, like all other artistic communities, is lucky in that it has no shortage of creative and driven individuals.  Now, while it does present its own set of challenges, there are plenty of opportunities to start your journey.  You can visit the Society of American Fight Directors website and search teachers currently offering classes by regions at safd.org. While some of the benefits are limited in this virtual setting, it does offer you the opportunity to truly work on your specificity, preparing you for the day when you get to finally face off with a partner.

THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME

A Stage Combat Nerd such as myself can go down rabbit hole after rabbit hole, but these are some of the skills that a performer can hone from Stage Combat classes.  So, it doesn’t really matter if you want to become the next Jackie Chan or Jason Statham.  

You don’t have to walk away falling in love with Stage Combat like I did.  But I can assure you, if you are willing to take a Stage Combat class, perhaps 2 or 3, you will walk away with tools that will undoubtedly make you a more well-rounded and interesting performer.

---

Gabriel Rosario

Advanced Actor Combatant, Stunt Performer and Fight Choreographer

Gabriel Rosario is a graduate from the American Musical and Dramatic Academy and is currently a Faculty Member in its Stage Combat Department.  He is an Advanced Actor Combatant, Stunt Performer and Fight Choreographer who has participated in plays such as Foggy Dew, The Adventures of Don Quijote, Follies, The Relationship Type, as well as being Fight Captain and Assistant Fight Choreographer for the World Premiere of Treasure Island at the Fulton Theatre and its East Coast Premiere at Maine State Music Theatre.  His film and TV credits include Dead@17: Rebirth, Tower of Silence, as well as the upcoming pilot, Dry Time, etc.   His credits as a Fight Choreographer include Romeo and Juliet, Faust on 147th Street, and Valor, Agravio y Mujer (HOLA Award Best Fight Choreography),  and La Paz Perpetua at Repertorio Español Rut and the short film Les Chienes.  Rosario is also an instructor at Swordplay in New York City.

G&E In Motion does not necessarily agree with the opinions of our guest bloggers. That would be boring and counterproductive. We have simply found the author’s thoughts to be interesting, intelligent, unique, insightful, and/or important. We may not agree on the words but we surely agree on their right to express them and proudly present this platform as a means to do so.

Dead Like Me

I’m not an Opera lover, but I go.  It is a great night out, you hear wonderful music, you have a nice nap, and you get to walk out feeling pretty damn sophisticated. Provided you didn’t audibly snore.   

I know the readers of this blog are theater people and are probably aghast that someone would fall asleep during any live performance but, come on, if you’re sitting in the dress circle at the Met and the only thing illuminated is Tristan’s miniature head amidst that enormous blackened stage while the Wagnerian German verse slowly emits from the poor Tenor’s throat, you can’t help but nod off.  In fact, you almost just nodded off reading that run-on sentence. 

Long operas are not my favorite.  Nor are the real serious ones.  No Ring Cycle for me!  I like the one-acts.  A couple of arias, a love story coupled with a tragic death and boom—I’m home in my robe sipping bourbon and eating Cheez-Its right out of the box. 

One of my favorites is Gianni Schicchi.  It’s fast, it’s amusing, it has a great story and it’s Puccini.  Which means it’s fun.  When I was around 19 years old I had volunteered at a local community theater to do “follow spot” for a production of it--that’s when I learned opera could be enjoyable. 

I’m a working actor that mostly does Film, TV and Commercials.  You might have seen me.  I’m most know for a commercial for Ancestry.com that ran nationally more than 22,000 times over 4 years.  I’m the guy who traded his lederhosen for a kilt.  If you haven’t seen it, ask your parents.  It often ran during 60 Minutes, Jeopardy, the National News, and, inexplicably, Madam Secretary.

I also appear in numerous TV series and movies on channels like Amazon, Investigation Discover, the History Channel, A&E and Lifetime.  I’ve done short films, feature films, and web series.  My Commercial work includes household names like Accuweather, Canon, DeLonghi and Sotheby’s.  I even filmed 3 additional commercials for Ancestry DNA.  I work often.  Or at least I did before Covid-19. 

Actors usually play a couple of “Types”.  For example, I’m often cast as a Priest, Lawyer, Doctor, Father of the Bride, young Grandfather, Businessman, and even your local, friendly neighborhood Racist.  I get these a lot.  But I also seem to have a new type: Cadaver.  Before the pandemic hit, I was cast in three feature films shooting this summer, and I was dead in two of them.  Not the whole time, but dead nonetheless. 

Yes, my new type seems to be “Dead Body.”   

My Ancestry commercial was still running hot when I was cast in G&E Productions’ Cold Porridge playing the complicated role of Albert Jones.  I jest. The role is not complicated. The curtain opens as he dies.  Then he spends the good part of the next hour dead.  They move his body around, hiding it here and there, until he falls out of the linen closet at an inopportune moment. 

So: If I’m doing so well playing people who actually have a pulse, why would I take a gig playing a dead body? 

I’ve been asked this question more than once and I’ve pondered it a bit.  What in my genetic make-up allowed me to be proud of my performance of not moving?  In the films I had lined up this summer I was at least alive for part of the film.  But to be dead for an hour on stage?  To endure hours of rehearsal, just to lie around?  And what about research?  Don’t worry; I studied up by reading a book about cadavers.  I’m no slouch, even when I’m playing a stiff. 

A couple of things you should know. I love theater, and I wanted to be involved in this production.  I work a lot in other media, but stage has been somewhat elusive to me and I was dying to get on stage.  Cold Porridge was an opportunity to be involved in a full production.  To rub shoulders with extremely talented people. But mostly: To learn.  That was my goal.

Kyle & the cast of Cold Porridge on stage with G&E Productions

Frankly, it’s my goal in every step I take in this crazy world of acting.  I don’t go to an audition with the mindset of “I need to land this!” I go in with the mindset “I need to get something out of this audition”.  When I go to set, I watch and listen.  I soak up every bit of information that floats my way.  It makes me a better actor, it makes me a better artist, it makes me better at marketing myself, and it makes me a better person.   

I’ve taken flack for some of the roles I’ve played.  Racist “You’re portraying white people as bad” or Rice Queen “You’re making gay people seem depraved”.  Relax, people, it’s acting.  And if it disturbs you, that’s on you, not me.  Story telling is not all rainbows and unicorns.  

Some people have even launched careers playing dead.  Terry Kiser was perfectly cast in the title role in Weekend at Bernie’s, and Kevin Costner famously played a stiff in The Big Chill.  Many soap actors find out their contract isn’t being renewed when they find themselves in a coffin after a brief hospital stay.  I’m OK with it. 

But the question still remains—what would motivate me to audition for and make the extreme time commitment to play a corpse in a stage play?  The answer brings us back to…wait for it…Gianni Schicchi.  

When little 19-year-old Kyle had volunteered to work follow spot for Gianni Schicchi, he was very impressed with the actor who played Buoso Donati.  As the curtain opens--as it rises into the air and disappears--Buoso Donati almost sits up in his sickbed, seemingly following the curtain, as if to catch it.  And then he dies.  He hits the bed, dead.  And there he lies for quite a long time as the opera takes shape around him.  Eventually they hide the body, assume his identity, and rewrite his will.  I was mesmerized.   

And that’s what I saw in Albert Jones.  Curtain up: He dies.  But Albert was my link. My link to feed my life-long need to do difficult things and to learn.  My link to the stage.  My link to connecting with an audience.  My link to opera. And my link to my younger self. 

Acting is challenging on many levels, but it fulfills me.  I’m going to vigorously pursue it as long as I’m able.  I’ll continue to take on any role that suits me, no matter what people may think.  Even if that character has rigor mortis.  Because someday I really will be dead.  Until then, I’m having the time of my life.

---

Kyle Merker

New York native and actor.

Kyle Merker is a New York native who studied acting at HB Studios, Studio Four and Michael Warner Studio. His most recent project was Remembering When I Used to Remember by Patrick Riviere (A Zoom Performance on 8/30/20) and next up is Coolsville (shooting 2021).  Visit him on IMDB or Actor’s Access, and follow him on Instagram @kylemerker.

G&E In Motion does not necessarily agree with the opinions of our guest bloggers. That would be boring and counterproductive. We have simply found the author’s thoughts to be interesting, intelligent, unique, insightful, and/or important. We may not agree on the words but we surely agree on their right to express them and proudly present this platform as a means to do so.  

Kindling Creativity: Should I Reignite the Embers of the Artist Who Once Was?

A creative act is a spark of life.  So when life is at a standstill, how do we continue to create?

This question has harassed me ad nauseam since the beginning of this pandemic. I remember, during those early days of fear and uncertainty, being particularly filled with dread by a meme that was circulated online amongst fellow artists. It said something to the effect of, “Shakespeare had written King Lear during a plague.” It presented what seemed to me a daunting challenge: would I use this newfound time and space to create my masterpiece? It was tinged with just enough social media snark-guilt that I felt that if I did not write my own Lear by the end of this “gift” of a time, I would most certainly be a failure. 

Six months into this seemingly endless crisis, I have done absolutely nothing creative. I have not taken one idea and actually put pen to paper. I haven’t even tried. My pages, where short films and screenplays should be facing edits and re-writes are filled with cobwebs. Sure, I have tooled around on my guitar here and there but fine-tuning my bar chord’s really does nothing for me in the long run. 

I have been utterly paralyzed. 

I incessantly wrestle with the why? I have more than enough time these days to allow my obsessive brain to feed on questions like these. Why am I incapable of creating during this time? Why has every shred of artistic discipline I’ve ever had left me? It’s a vicious cycle of guilt and anxiety. The more I ignore what I should be doing, the more I don’t want to deal with the guilt of not doing it. And so on and so on it goes. I often see a ghost of myself in the early morning hours of a restless night, which are at this point a regular for me. The ghost looks like me, in just February of this year. It stands before me, a better more confident self. Suddenly, February me starts violently screaming at me in bed, “This is how you spend these precious hours of your life? You’re lazy. You’re weak. You should be doing more. Writing more. Working more.”

As time has gone by, I’ve begun to realize that who we were in the non-plague times, our very identities were all relative to a society that no longer exists. 

And that is what has led me to the recent realization that the act of creation in-and-of itself reminds me of everything we’ve lost. I can’t create without remembering a time I could do so freely. Every project I started pre-plague had potential. Anything was possible. Now we all must reckon with an undeniable fact: None of us lives in a world of potential any longer. 

Art should reflect the moment. We all know the age-old adage that art often serves as a mirror to society. 

I have no idea how to wrestle with this moment. 

I watch about 10-12 hours of news a day. It plays in the background as a constant reminder, a little voice in my head that no matter what I do I can’t fix or escape this new reality. I am not in control. But I don’t want to dig into it. I don’t even know what to make of it. Maybe it’s because I can’t make any sense of it. Maybe because it doesn’t make sense. Maybe I can’t control a narrative that helps me understand what is happening. Art needs a reference point. All art is inherently in reference to the society it exists in. Comedy is in relation to firm social norms. Ideas of love and tragedy exist in relation to a fundamental understanding and illumination of the world around us. 

And yet, we are in the midst of the most uncertain period of time in a generation. There’s no baseline to refer to. No foundation to reflect on.

In moments of sporadic and fleeting inspiration I ask myself, what do I have to say about all of this? What insight do I even have to offer? Or do I even have a right to try?

How can I create when there are so many people dying, so many getting sick, so many important social justice issues, so many lost jobs, so much workplace abuse, so much gender disparity, so much wrongful prejudice against sexuality, so many dying from abuses in parts far across the world, so much hypocrisy pervading our lives on a daily, hourly, minute to minute basis? 

How can it not consume every waking minute of my day? How is the loss of my own livelihood, potentially my entire career not supposed to consume me? How do I forget the fear I have for my loved one’s who may be vulnerable to this virus? The spiral never ends.

It occupies my mind. Almost every waking hour.

 Right now, I tend towards things that help to soothe. Things that give me comfort. I try as best I can to find ways to forget the woes, even for a moment. It doesn’t work. And I know deep down that these tendencies are antithetical to creation itself. As artists, we must dig deep, rip scabs off of wounds, tear open our guts and take a hard look at what is there. As dark and ugly as it may be. As long as it is in pursuit of the truth.

But here I am, six months in, unable to create. Because doing so would force me to actually face all of these truths. It would take it from the intellectual, the way I can cope with all of this mess and bring it to the full-blown emotional. A place I am afraid to go.

I don’t know that I have it in me. And I’m not sure if I should.

Stay Safe,

Robbie

---

Robbie Tann

Professional actor, writer, director & college professor

Robbie Tann is a professional actor, writer, director & college professor. He has worked extensively in television, film and theatre for nearly a decade. 

G&E In Motion does not necessarily agree with the opinions of our guest bloggers. That would be boring and counterproductive. We have simply found the author’s thoughts to be interesting, intelligent, unique, insightful, and/or important. We may not agree on the words but we surely agree on their right to express them and proudly present this platform as a means to do so.  

A Dancer in Quarantine 💃

Rochelle Martin-Vecchio

A New York-based dancer and choreographer

I entered 2020 having a 7-month-old baby boy, a husband, bills to pay, and a busy teaching schedule. I was choreographing a show that opened in February (while also performing in and costuming that show), rehearsing and performing with Peconic Ballet Foundation, planning a Dance Parade event for Third Street Music Settlement, getting other students ready for competition at the Broadway Dance Academy, and finally I was set to choreograph Long Island University’s Choreography Showcase. I thought it a well-balanced diet for an artist.

Fast Forward to May; I now have an 11-month-old who doesn’t stop moving (have no idea where he gets that from), but the rest of New York is on PAUSE.

Deep Breath. 

We can’t stop ourselves from reading social media all the time. We see artists, peers, and mentors express their thoughts openly. 

Well, here are my thoughts. It’s time to innovate. As role models, we tell our students to rise to the occasion, and to work hard to achieve your goals. Fight!  We can’t be in the classroom teaching or in the theatre performing but that doesn’t mean we are restricted. At times like these, I think back to choreography class at Long Island University where we read Twyla Tharp’s The Creative Habit. Tharp states, “Creativeness is not a gift from God.” She goes on, “In order to be creative we have to prepare to be creative.” So why are so many creators viewing this situation as artistically negative? Let’s be innovative and prepare to get those creative juices flowing.

I wake up every day exhausted. Fun fact: babies between 9 and 10 months old go through sleep regression. No, he doesn't sleep through the night. Since 4 months, my little man has slept through the night but he has now taken back that luxury. I try to keep my routine the same but it’s very hard with a growing baby. It’s his world, I'm just living in it. Diaper change. I get ready every morning. A ballet teacher once told me, “You're never fully dressed without some mascara and lipstick.” I do my hair and put on my make-up and get in my workout/dance clothes while chasing the energizer bunny along with his partner in crime (a sixty-five pound dog). Diaper change. It makes me feel good- alive, and motivated. I work out and get those endorphins going. I watch my son discover new things every day. I realize that, as babies, we never stop learning. So why do we dismiss this as we get older? We should never stop learning.

Diaper change/lunch time.  While my son naps, I watch videos via Instagram and Facebook that show artists rising to the occasion, disallowing the coronavirus to defeat us. I talk to other artists to see how they are overcoming this obstacle. I brainstorm during what we adults call meetings.  

I teach my ballet classes on Zoom. My students are a constant reminder and inspiration for me to keep inspiring, pushing forward, and rising to the challenge. I am so thankful.

By the time I'm in the midst of teaching, my son gets bored hearing me repeat, “Core. Knees over toes. Posture. Long neck. Stretch your feet. Aghhhh! Arms! Arms! Arms!” My husband comes home from work and rescues my son from hearing me yell, “It ain't Christmas! Don’t let me see Santa’s belly, and demi plie! CORE!”

I recently read a post on social media about World War II. It showed a picture of Ballet dancers still rehearsing and practicing their craft during those war-torn times. Okay, we might not be in a World War right now, but we are nevertheless in a war against a virus. People are still on the front lines, people are grieving, and people are going through hardships. In a way, it’s not that big of a difference. They made it work. They made it work without Facebook, Instagram, and Tiktok.

At night, I enjoy the family time I have with my husband, son, and dog, and the memories we’re creating, memories that would not have been created if the world were still going on as usual. I have the chance to cook dinner and eat with my family, which, as any artist knows, doesn't happen all the time.  These are memories that I will cherish and not take for granted, just like all the times I stepped onto a stage and thanked the audience for my life. These are memories that I’ll be able to talk to the next generation about: “What do you mean, you CAN’T? When I couldn’t teach from the studio or theatre, I did it via the Internet! Don’t make an excuse to escape, pave the path to create.” When I say this I can’t help but think of my grandfather’s generation, born in the 1920’s, who told us how they walked uphill both ways to get to school.

Lastly, I hope this experience humbles people. Let them appreciate the time spent in the studio prepping for the stage.

Let it allow every artist to enjoy the process and the journey, not the destination. I hope it allows them to dig back to their roots, create, and develop into better artists.

I hope it opens people's eyes to how strong a group, a team, a family, or a community can be, and how they can become bigger and stronger. I hope that, once this storm passes, the world sees a beautiful renaissance in the arts.

With Grace and Patience,

Rochelle

---

Rochelle Martin-Vecchio trained at the Joffrey Ballet School, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theatre, and she also privately trained with Trutti Gasparinetti. She has had the pleasure to perform at The West Point Military Academy and in the debut of Dear Nadezhda by Venti Petrov in New York City. She has danced principal roles and has had work created on her. She had the honor of performing Cara Gargano’s “Mahler Pas de deux" in Manhattan at Symphony Space. She taught the Ballet and Contemporary classes from 2016 to 2019 at Tilles Dance Conference.  Rochelle teaches ballet and choreographs for the Students Honor Institute at LIU Post since it begun in 2016. She currently teaches from the Hamptons to Manhattan. 

G&E In Motion does not necessarily agree with the opinions of our guest bloggers. That would be boring and counterproductive. We have simply found the author’s thoughts to be interesting, intelligent, unique, insightful, and/or important. We may not agree on the words but we surely agree on their right to express them and proudly present this platform as a means to do so.