An Actor Compares Stage and Film:  Derek Jacobi:
The Motive and Cue for Passion

By Dale White

Shakespeare Newsletter
 Spring 1983

      Derek Jacobi, the 44-year-old Englishman whose televised portrayal of Hamlet may be the most widely viewed Hamlet ever performed, rushed into a poster-splashed office a floor above the swan-speckled Avon and tourist-stiped streets of Stradford.
     
Though Americans recognize the slender blond’s finely-boned chin and nose, ironic grin, arching brows and penetrating eyes from his roles in I, Claudius (PBS), Inside the Third Reich (ABC), The Suicide (Broadway), The Odessa Files and Day of the Jackal (films), the British primarily acknowledge Jacobi as a classical actor with a stage record putting him with such greats as Laurence Olivier, Anthony Hopkins and Frank Benson.
      Twenty minutes before rehearsals for that evening’s performance of The Tempest, (one of three plays in which Jacobi was appearing for the Royal Shakespeare Theatre), and obviously torn between present time and thoughts of Prospero—he sat on the edge of a desk chair, sipped tea and rapidly chatted about his favorite roles.  His youthful appearance may make an avid Shakespeare lover doubtful about his ability to convey Prospero’s aura.
      “I think Prospero is Shakespeare’s farewell to the theatre because of the epilogue,” Jacobi admitted while making his preparation for the role.
      Of the three roles I’m doing now Prospero is the one I’m less prepared for.  It is this image of Prospero as the long-bearded, grand patriarch-magician and a idea that one can only play him when one reaches his mid-50s or 60s.  Miranda is supposed to be only 15.  So, there’s no reason Prospero couldn’t be around 40.  My Prospero is younger.  I haven’t seen many Prosperos but I try to connect him with his daughter, who is his motivation for the actions he takes.  He is aware of his own mortality and has a very black outlook.”  
      Jacobi said his approach to Prospero did not include any research of Shakespeare’s later years, that actors can become overburdened by such research.
      “Actors must trust their instinct toward the language, the words.  If you’ve not got that instinct, the research will be no help.  One should jump at any role, play as many roles—regardless of age.  This is true for any actor.  Let’s lay the reverential ghost that the critics have built aside, and put the blood back into Shakespeare. Shakespeare wasn’t written to be studied and pawed over.  Forget the false starts and exclamation marks and go at it as your own man.”
      The self-proclaimed inventor of stage fright detailed his process for preparing to enter stage left as Prospero within the following two hours.
      “I’ve been preparing psychologically since lunchtime.   We’ve only just opened Tempest.  There’s only been eight performances.  So, it’s still virgin territory.  With Much Ado, there’s been 62, and with Peer Gynt, 20.  So, with them there are little islands of rest.  With Tempest, there’s still a ‘please let’s get through it.’  Before doing scenes on-stage with Miranda, I’ll go through my lines in my dressing room, I’ll do the scenes in my head during make-up at 6 (p.m.) and at 7:30 I hope I’m not too nervous and that I haven’t fainted with terror.  Prospero is a very lonely part.  In the first scene he has 40 minutes of chat.  Then he virtually disappears for an hour.  But there’s some very involved verse and a big obstacle to get over in that first 40 minutes.  That’s a killer.”
      “By far,” Hamlet remains his favorite Shakespearean role.
      “I was lucky enough to do Hamlet at 17.  Actually, it was a week before my 19th birthday.  There have been many great Hamlets but nobody has been able to crack the role.  It’s silly when critics say ‘this’ is the definitive Hamlet. The ideal has never been. I only knew what felt like Hamlet in me.  There are so many aspects of the character.  I become the character instead of Hamlet becoming me.”
      His numerous experiences “becoming” the young Dane become an asset when he secured the part in the Time-Life/BBC production.
      “Hamlet was easier than Richard II because I’d done it on-stage. In these BBC films, you don’t do anything in sequence and there’s no real feeling of the journey or the craft of the play except in the run-through before.  In Richard II I had to stop after one line, go to another set because it had a staircase, and then a half-hour later, finish the speech.”
      Despite any technical difficulties, Jacobi considers the stage and film efforts of the Royal Shakespeare Company to be “of uppermost importance.  Shakespeare is still amazingly popular in this country and a great deal of that popularity is due to this company.  The fact that we can do the entire canon for television is useful.  These BBC productions are meant as records of the plays for university libraries.  This company’s contribution to Shakespeare and theatre in general has been huge.”
      Jacobi firmly believes that Shakespeare should be the starting ground for any serious thespian.  “It’s an easier route to go from classical to modern.  Classical is a finely-tuned instrument.  You must worry with voice, movement, style.  If you play Hamlet, you must have vocal technique that will sustain three to four hours.  And the audience will be looking at you the whole time—not at just what the camera shows.   Although filmwork is a question of paring down, you can’t suddenly acquire vocal techniques.  And you most certainly can’t jump from something like Neil Simon to Lear.”
      In an age when unemployment for actors may surpass that for any other profession, Jacobi recommends that only persons with a certain conviction should attempt to edge their way onto the stage.
      “If you’ve got a crush on the theatre or a great desire, be wary.  You have to need to be an actor.  If it’s just a desire, a want, a love—that’s not enough.  You have to need.
      And, Jacobi, added, that need should be coupled with courage.
      “I find relaxing very difficult.  I hadn’t done any theatre for two years before I returned this season for Much Ado.  Theatre requires nerve.  The camera doesn’t compare to the nerve required for theatre.  The longer I stayed away, the more difficult it would be to put my foot on that stage.  [Dale White of Gainesville, Florida, is a correspondent, reporter, and feature writer on a wide variety of subject.  He interviewed Mr. Jacobi on Aug. 16, 1982.]

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