It is impossible to say what makes an ideal director. The relationship between actor and director is a very personal one — a director that one particular actor finds marvellous to work with may be extremely difficult for another.

I personally feel very much under the thumb of a director, needing his guidance, and find it essential to build up a working relationship with him as he must with the actors. From the director’s side, of course, this is particularly difficult; he has to work with, and adapt to, many different people in a wide variety of ways. Directing is such a delicate job, and all the more remarkable since the director must be able to get a production successfully off the ground using a cast he has possibly only just met. Much time has to be spent getting to know how each individual works and appreciating the interaction of the cast as a whole. This book shows quite clearly that there are as many working methods as there are directors. It also shows that an actor is always learning.

The first director I worked with was Michael Benthall at the Old Vic and — as often happens working with directors — he taught me something I hadn’t learned at drama school. He explained to me the meaning of the term ‘legato’ — using words not in a staccato fashion but making them smooth and more drawn out. A small point, but one which has proved a very valuable lesson that has had a lasting effect on my work.

It is important for me — especially with difficult, tense, dramatic pieces — to have a director who approaches his. work in an intense but lighthearted way. By initially relaxing and letting off steam the actor can then get down to being completely serious. The borderline between a play that is melodramatic like The Duchess of Malfi and one that is meant to be comic is very narrow. I worked with Clifford Williams on The Duchess of Malfi and his approach was perfect because he has exactly this ability to be light-hearted while at the same time covering immense ground.

Comedy is notoriously difficult to play. There’s always a stage where the play’s going well, then another when the laughs are falling flat and it is impossible to tell why. Ronnie Eyre saw me during one of those bad patches in his production of London Assurance and helped me enormously when he said: ‘Just remember to tell the story -- the reality is in telling the story because otherwise you’re just doing things for their own sake and not for the sake of telling the story.’ It is vitally important to remember this because something ‘funny’ which has no relevance to the story of the play cannot convey the basic truths involved.

I must say that it is almost impossible to work with a director towards whom the actor has total antipathy — there is no understanding, no rapport and no communication. Happily this is the exception rather than the rule! Some directors, like Michael Langham, make the actors feel straight away that they are capable of doing their part, and then give them hell throughout rehearsals. But because the director has already gained the actors’ confidence it is an enjoyable and challenging experience.

One of the most exciting directors I have ever worked with is Trevor Nunn. On The Winter’s Tale I believed entirely in what he was trying to do and we succeeded in many ways in making that difficult story credible. Although he worked incredibly hard on the play it did not feel like hard work and he managed to get the very best out of his actors. If I thought I could play a certain piece six different ways he would convince me that I could do it a hundred ways I felt like a bottomless well. It is a constant and stimulating challenge to have to try and convey words in a multiplicity of ways and it makes actors draw on resources they never knew they had. Help is there if they need it but they can experiment - being watched but not interrupted - until they feel they’ve got the piece right. It’s a wonderful way to work, very fulfilling and productive though it requires a long rehearsal period.

Of course the director’s job doesn’t end with the final dress rehearsal or public preview. It’s no use pretending that there still isn’t a lot to be tidied up on the first night and I think the director who not only gives last-minute ‘notes’ to his actors but also comments while they are actually making up and getting into costume is a great help in calming the nerves - thus getting the best possible performance from the cast.

Theatre audiences today are becoming more and more aware of the director. The point has now been reached when productions are described, for instance, as ‘Brook’s Dream’, ‘Zeffirelli’s Romeo and Juliet’ etc., and the name of the director becomes just as important as that of the leading actor: in some cases audiences don’t even know who’s in the cast.

Nor do today’s audiences feel it spoils their illusions to know what happens behind the scenes: they want to read how it’s done. This book reveals some fascinating aspects and I, personally, feel that it shows that although an actor’s job is a hard one, the director’s task is much, much harder.

Thanks so much to Delda for sending me this foreward, which was taken from the 1974 Judith Cook book, Directors' Theatre.

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