Uta Hagen: Leading Lady Of Theater

This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. . . . I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. George Bernard Shaw

Uta Hagen quotes Shaw's credo in "A Challenge for the Actor," her second book on the techniques of her craft. It defines, she says, the "lofty but not unrealistic goals" she has pursued through a long, illustrious life as a leading lady of the American theater, and one of its most distinguished acting teachers.

When a recent visitor blundered up to the wrong house on her cul-de-sac on the Montauk cliffs, she appeared in a turquoise pantsuit at the top of her steps across the street.

"Over here!" she shouted. "At first I thought you were one of those bold surfers, but now I see you're a lady."

Deep Gossip

After verifying identities, the ebullient actress showed her guest into a modern living room with a breathtaking view of the heath and the cobalt ocean beyond.

"Have a Seabreeze," she said heartily, "I'm having one. Pink grapefruit juice, cranberry juice, and vodka." Along with her drink she set a plate of crackers and delectable little mousses on the table and, as the interviewer sipped an occupational water, launched into a four-star performance that was as entertaining and, yes, ennobling, as a great evening in the theater.

There were side-splitting imitations of other actors (Madeline Renaud shuffling onstage at age 91), ringing statements of belief ("We must battle the money-lenders and take Broadway back from businessmen looking only for a product!"), and nuggets of deep gossip ("Edward Albee and I never sat down and read 'Virginia Woolf' together - that's a complete fabrication.")

Throw Away 'Respect'!

Since Ms. Hagen had recently returned from teaching a series of master classes out West, for openers the interviewer proudly produced a copy of "Respect for Acting," her acclaimed 1973 textbook, just bought at Book Hampton.

"Throw that away," said its horrified author. "I totally reject that book. It's superficial, mechanical, theoretically false, and everything's in the wrong place. I only finished it because I'd accepted a commission from Macmillan 15 years earlier."

The reviled volume does have redeeming social value, however. Not only still in print but, she maintained, outselling "Gone With the Wind" as a perennial classic, it will at least provide her daughter, Letty, and granddaughter, Teresa, with an annuity.

Ms. Hagen's more than 20 Broadway starring roles include the lead in "Key Largo," Desdemona opposite Paul Robeson in "Othello," Blanche in "A Streetcar Named Desire," "Saint Joan," Martha in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf," and, most recently, a two-year Off-Broadway run as the psychoanalyst Melanie Kline in "Mrs. Kline."

Born in Germany in 1919, she knew at age 6 that she wanted to be an actress - but what would it take? Talent, of course, which she defines as a heightened sensitivity and responsiveness, a need to express feelings in concrete terms on stage, and a soaring imagination with its feet planted firmly on the ground.

An actor, according to Ms. Hagen, must also have an unshakable desire to be an actor, an insatiable curiosity about the human condition, a sound body, a trained voice, discipline, tenacity, and a broad education.

Training By Osmosis

With a father who was himself an actor, as well as an art historian and a musician, and a mother who was a singer, Ms. Hagen got much of her education and training by osmosis, she said.

Acting also requires back-breaking effort, and her family's strong German work ethic helped her, she said, to structure her talent and dreams.

In 1925 the Hagens moved to Madison, Wisc., where her father taught at the university. "Isn't that an awful place to grow up?" she asked. "I hated the Middle West, and only felt at home in Europe or New York."

In 1936 the family spent six months in England, where she attended the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. "I loved London but hated the academy's very mechanical training. They'd line 30 of us up against the wall and make us do Rosalind from 'As You Like It' in unison."

Back in Wisconsin, she loathed the University even more, and in desperation wrote Eva Le Gallienne a starry-eyed letter asking if she could join her company and only play Shakespeare and Chekhov. The actress invited her to audition when she came East.

At age 16 Ms. Hagen auditioned at the Westport Playhouse in Connecticut, and went home to wait. Silence from Ms. Le Gallienne. Then the breakthrough letter arrived, asking her to read for Ophelia in a summer production of "Hamlet."

After working on the part for a few weeks, she made her professional debut in Dennis, Mass., on Cape Cod, and stayed on with the troupe for six more plays. When the company collapsed while she was understudying the role of Maya in Ibsen's "When We Dead Awaken," it felt, she said, like the death of art and the end of the world combined. She slunk home.

Fairy-Tale Audition

A Christmas gift of $250 from her father allowed her to give acting one more try in New York, however. By walking everywhere and living with her brother she made the money last two months, at the end of which she miraculously found herself auditioning for Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne one night in the theater where they were performing "The Sea Gull."

She did a scene from the play that impressed Ms. Fontanne and, after working until 1 a.m., was able to send her parents the dream telegram of a lifetime:

"Playing Nina in 'The Sea Gull' for the Lunts on Broadway."

"Like all my early career, it was unbelievable, flukish, a fairy tale," said Ms. Hagen.

Robeson And Ferrer

Her preferred role is always the one she's working on or has just finished, she said, although Martha in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?," Saint Joan, and Natalia in Turgenev's "A Month in the Country" have been enduring favorites. Among playwrights, she cherishes Shaw for his language.

Playing opposite Paul Robeson was also quite a thrill. "He's the only person I know who represents the word charisma. He was a brilliant, exciting man, but not a good actor, and he knew it, too. We had a big affair for about three years that was like a strange interlude; I was obsessed by him."

Around that time a 10-year marriage to Jose Ferrer was breaking up even as her professional pride, and joy, was deserting her onstage.

Turning Point

"My acting had gotten to the point where what I had learned was convenient Broadway-pro garbage: how to get a hand on exit, how to hush the audience by lowering your voice, how to time a laugh."

"I'd mastered all the external mechanics and I wasn't enjoying it. It got so I really would rather stay home than act."

Then she did a production with the great director Harold Clurman, who turned her whole technique around, and when Herbert Berghof joined the cast as a replacement, he changed her life.

They would be together for the next 44 years, 30 of them as man and wife, and she would begin teaching at his HB Studio in Greenwich Village, a thriving establishment she runs today.

"Through teaching, I did nothing but learn, basing my work on a whole different concept of watching and listening that constituted my real training, a technique that sustained me."

As laid out in the above-mentioned "A Challenge for the Actor," published in 1991, what she came to emphasize most was destination: where you are now, how you got there, and where you expect you're heading.

"I stress expectation. What you think will happen next is the clue to being alive when you're on stage. If you know what's coming, your performance will be mechanical and go dead in a matter of weeks."

Herbert Berghof

Her marriage to Mr. Berghof was unique, she said. He was intellectually stimulating, and they did everything together without competition. "My 10 years with Joe Ferrer were full of rivalry. If I got a bigger salary, there was a family crisis - another reason I didn't want to act. He's the only man I ever fought with physically."

"In Herbert, I'd suddenly met someone who, if I didn't want to go onstage, would get mad and say I was a good artist and it was my responsibility to go out there. Perhaps he was so supportive because he was a refugee from Nazi Austria, where he'd been a great star, and had to start all over in a new country with a new language."

She gazed out over the ocean. "I thought my life was over when he died, in 1990. No one could understand why I was so sad."

Tears came to her eyes. "I'm sorry. I think I'll make myself another drink."

Real Theater

Back at the table, "There's something rotten in the theater today," she said. "The old Broadway doesn't exist any more. Why? Because there's no call for it. Real theater-goers aren't on expense accounts, and can't afford a $100 ticket."

"Only the humanism of the actor can redeem it," she went on. "Audiences are starved to see something human on stage. Those crappy directors like Robert Wilson, the criminals of the theater, the destroyers of art, make it impossible for an actor to function. Who's on stage, anyhow? The actor, not the director."

"I think this will turn around," Ms. Hagen added. "Look what happened to 'A Doll's House' with Janet McTeer recently. An unknown actress in a revival of a 100-year-old play that everybody's seen, and you couldn't buy a ticket! Sold out! Standing room only! The 1,100 seat Belasco theater jam-packed!"

"Actors have to take responsibility for their destinies," she concluded, "and find producers who'll put on plays worth looking at. Real theater is not hi-tech entertainment. It is an emotional experience where a human event takes place on stage that opens your eyes and blows your mind."