By Theodore Bikel
An award-winning actor on reveal and degree (The Defiant Ones, The African Queen, The Sound of song, My reasonable woman, Fiddler at the Roof), an activist for civil rights and innovative explanations all over the world, and a singer whose voice has gained him nice applause, Theodore Bikel right here tells his personal compelling lifestyles tale. Born in Austria, raised in Palestine, informed in England, and with a stellar occupation within the usa and worldwide, Bikel deals a own background parallel to momentous occasions of the 20 th century. In an eloquent, fiercely devoted voice, he writes of the 3rd Reich, the start of the country of Israel, the McCarthy witch hunts of the Nineteen Fifties, and the tumultuous Sixties in the USA. In a brand new postscript to this paperback variation, he seems at fresh occasions within the center East and takes each side to job for his or her excesses.
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It is evident that no nlatter how good actors Inay be at divining the author's intent, very few of us are capable of conlpetent selfanalysis. Stanislavsky's lllethod obviously worked for Inany, and most certainly for the actor Stanislavsky hilllseif. But it is doubtful-now, in hindsight, nlore than it was then-whether extending the life on stage into the actor's personal life, and vice versa, works universally, as its adherents clainl it should. A. LauJ was an exceptional case of such a crossover from the dralnatic role into the actor's psyche.
Tnppt11fJ mtJUTongue Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, 1946 My excitement about being in London was not marred by the fact that it is essentially a city of unrelieved gray-even on its brighter and sunnier days, few enough in number, it looks bleak. It does not feel bleak, however. The dead things are not really dead, the past is there as more than a memorial. London Bridge, Beefeaters, the Tower-you can drive on the bridge, talk to the beefeaters, smell the musty odor of the Tower, and be lectured by the guards.
After observing me pacing up and down in the corridors and the green room, he got a chair, pushed it up to the \vall, climbed up on it, and reached for the picture of KOllstantin Sergeyevich Stanislavsky that was pronlinently displayed. He took it off its hook, hopped off the chair, and came up to me. He raised nly right arm, thrust the picture into nlY armpit, made sure it was firmly lodged there, and then announced in Yiddish in a loud voice, "Na! " (There! ) There was another aspect to Hebrew theatre that everyone accepted as a given, actors and audiences alike.