'The Tightrope' by Simon Brook

By now, you’ve grasped that this is no ordinary acting exercise, and this is no ordinary director. The legendary Peter Brook is once again working his theatrical wonders — this time in a filmed master class called The Tightrope, directed with precision and reverence by his son, Simon.

Nobody, but nobody, can articulate the mysteries of the theater like Peter Brook. This sorcerer (who turns 89 next month) has been making his magic — directing, writing, and explaining as he goes along — for seven decades. He’s left an indelible mark on the 20th and 21st centuries with his vision of theater as an “empty space” with endless possibilities.

As a young director, Brook began to make theater history in the 1960s at the Royal Shakespeare Company, on the West End and Broadway. His Marat/Sade, Midsummer Night’s Dream, King Lear (starring Paul Scofield), and The Visit (starring Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne) are remembered as among the landmark productions of the 20th century.

After that, he founded his International Centre of Theatre Research in Paris (at the Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord). He assembled his own international company, developed a unique way of working with a multilingual ensemble, and staged new interpretations of the classics and newly devised works inspired by cultures from around the world. Many of his theater works have required years of development. Memorable productions include his extraordinary nine-hour Mahabharata, a luminous interpretation of Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard, an electrifying adaptation of Bizet’s Carmen, and a taut two-hour Hamlet starring Adrian Lester.

Brook’s legacy includes a number of books — arguably the most illuminating theoretical writings of the 20th century on the art of making theater. The volumes are slim, and yet the wisdom and insight is prodigious, based on years of exploration and experimentation. Among them, his visionary study The Empty Space (1968) has made a definitive contribution to theater in our time. In it, Brook describes four kinds of theater — the deadly, the holy, the rough, and the immediate. “As you read this book, it is already moving out of date,” Brook wrote on the last page. Not a chance.

Making visible the invisible

Watching The Tightrope is like reading one of Brook’s theoretical works, only it’s better, since it comes to life in the form of a 90-minute filmed master class. In it, Brook breaks down the mysterious components of acting in a series of exercises, “making visible the invisible,” to use his words. It’s fascinating to watch.

The first exercise, the tightrope, is designed to strengthen the link between the actor’s imagination and his or her body. Actors are asked, one at a time, to cross the oriental rug barefoot, with the aid of a balancing stick, imagining that they are on a tightrope. Do we believe them as they cross? That’s Brook’s challenge. Each of the 20 actors (I counted at least eight nationalities) tried it. There were gasps heard around the room as an actor "lost" his balance and fell into an imagined abyss. It works.

Brook introduces his exercises with simplicity, clarity, and profound insight. The shared mind exercise focuses on building an ensemble by strengthening the actor’s power of concentration. (“It’s easy for insects and birds, or orchestras, to do,” says Brook. “But what about actors?”) The hourglass exercise underscores the notion that every grain of sand (i.e., every second of a performance) counts. The extended hand exercise illuminates how a simple everyday gesture can be a revelation.

To watch this theater guru at work is mesmerizing. Brook is of slight, almost frail stature, with white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a voice that never rises above a murmur. He stands in the midst of his rapt ensemble, wearing a bright orange shirt that matches the brilliance of his inspiration. He speaks with wonder and humility about the art of making theater — using words like words like freedom, commitment, engagement, energy, joy. The effect is enthralling.

After each exercise, Brook offers only a few words of approval. Instead, he urges his actors to go farther, to take what they’re doing to a new dimension, to show what it means to be alive. That’s what is required, he says, to create “theater that is always real, alive, that touches someone, takes hold and doesn’t let go.”

What is "work"?

Watching Peter Brook on film, I was reminded of the special experience I had working with him from 2003-2005, when he was directing my play “I take your hand in mine…” in Paris and on tour throughout Europe. I’ll never forget our first day of rehearsal. We gathered in the theater to begin our work together — the cast, designers, theater staff, and myself. Peter spent the first 45 minutes asking each of us in his quiet, gentle voice: “How would you like your tea?” He served each of us, slowly, one by one. I remember wondering: When would our work begin? In retrospect, I realize that it already had. For Peter, theater is a timeless ritual, one that is practiced with the utmost simplicity and clarity, in an empty space with nothing but a few actors, an oriental rug — and in our case, a table, two chairs, and those cups of tea.

“The important thing about an end is that there isn’t an end,” says Brook. There will be no end to our search for the mysteries and the meaning of theater. And there will likely be no end to the influence of this director as we continue on the journey. His gift is a vision of the theater — as a living organism, a ceremony, a ritual, a process, occurring in an empty space where, every time, we start anew.