Abstract:
In an attempt to address the over-valuation of acting teaching informed primarily by television-sized reality, and to reclaim the inherent right of theatre to be theatrical, I have created a series of exercises called “superscenes” based in myth and archetypal relationships. These scenes are a way of enabling actors to work as an ensemble, in truthful, impulsive and theatrical ways while honoring both text and subtext. In writing this article, I have attempted to find a format that weaves together many seemingly disparate ideas that support the method of actor training I am espousing. They are a series of exercises based in biology, mythology, anthropology, and neuroscience, and incorporate the thinking of Grotowski, Stanislavski, Bogart, Brecht, Declan Donnellan, Michael Shurtleff, and many other theoreticians. They also reflect my readings of Joseph Campbell, CG Jung, James Hillman, George Herbert Mead, Herbert Blumer, Ernest Becker, Antonio Damasio, Michael Gazzaniga, and VS Ramachandran.
The Hero’s Journey: SuperScenes for Theatrical Instruction.
Physical Investigations of Subtext.
Physical Investigations of Subtext.
In pre-history, at the beginning of theatre playing, joking, physical jousting, mime, showing off, sexy dancing, and tricks, were all probably part of the show. The tribal fireside must have elicited serious and playful re-enactment of hunting stories, sad retellings of lost loved ones, horrific recountings of mysterious natural disasters, and funny send-ups of known community figures. Even now, children left alone to play, create dramas and comedies, with little or no regard for realism as naturally as they eat and sleep; making theatre appears to be an integral part of our learning and socialization. As an acting teacher, my wish is to regain the sense of play, fantasy, and inventiveness that I believe is natural to homo sapiens.
As campfires stories became favorites of the tribe, they must have become ritualized, codified, edited, and expected. Just as a child is likely to say to a parent telling a story “That’s not how it goes”, the tellers needed to be faithful to the original while maintaining the spontaneity of play.
These original stories became a part of the intellectual and spiritual life of the community, magical connections to god-like, half remembered ancestors, protectors and persecutors. Once these stories transmuted into recognized ritual performance, shamans, priests, griots, bards, and minstrels took possession of their delivery and maintained their powerful essence while perhaps changing some of the immaterial facts by accident or for effect. Poets of the enchanting and mysterious past were either born into their profession and trained by their parents, or were chosen as a result of some oddity of temperament or physical constitution, to capture the hearts of the community to which they were connected.
As communities moved and changed, the chroniclers too were frequently forced to wander from one settlement to another and to play for less familiar audiences. Many went from being a semi-stable member of a community to professional figures supported by the more powerful members of the society. It was undoubtedly necessary for these player/bards to develop even greater spiritual, vocal, physical, emotional and intellectual talents in order to keep food on the table. With only their voices and their bodies they were entrusted to reaffirm the rituals, myths, and history of the people and make a living doing so. Now, this function is largely in the hands of actors, screenwriters, historians, scholars, and playwrights.
Our contemporary actors are rarely raised up by shamanist parents, nor generally chosen by the community. For the most part, they are people who feel the calling of the stage and who render themselves up to professional training.
Actor training has become an industry, we seem to be at a moral and ethical crossroads. On the one hand, we want to prepare actors of depth and skill for an artistic life, however poverty stricken, in the theatre that we love. On the other hand, we feel morally bound to assure that our students are ready for the more economically rewarding media.
Given the current state of the profession, how can we once again touch the magic of the Shamanistic performer? How can we elicit actors of power and depth? It is necessary to find a method to once again open actors to a quality of playing that is at once both theatrical and truthful.
Currently, acting classes that privilege realism are the dominant mode of teaching because actors with such skills are able to move into commercials and television easily while occasionally doing a play. And, as television is the way most students first understand acting, everyone is mollified. Of course, most programs devote a certain amount of time to the classics, at least to Shakespeare, but those classes often eschew “realism” for technical proficiency. Movement and voice classes continue to move into realms of experimentation and expansion of the actor’s instrument, however, the synthesis between acting classes and production is often limited to solving problems of specific movement difficulties and vocal clarity.
The idea of theatricalism-- the very word—“theatrical”, has been debased, and yet, the most exciting theatres in the world; theatres like the Pantheatre, Theatre du Soleil, Siti Company, Lookinglass, et al are attempting to reclaim a magical theatre-- one which is explosive, non-linear, physical, and visceral. This movement owes its life to Grotowski, Brecht, Artaud, Meyerhold, Bogart and many other visionaries for whom live theatre must be alive and unpredictable for its audience. However, in their fervor, many of the companies doing such work downplay playwrights, text, and verbal ability in favor of spectacle and acrobatic skill. The meaning is easily lost in the method. Although the works of these creative and exciting companies are frequently beautiful and admirable, the danger of dismissing narrative and linear textual argument is a vexing problem when it comes to more sophisticated discourse and rhetoric in a society.
Serious institutional theatres tend to rely on dramatic literature with a traditional emphasis on linear story telling. They also depend on the kindness of audiences who don’t ask for much beyond a solid production, great sets and costumes, and a good story. They favor narrative and intellectual engagement. Their patrons do not expect truth, beauty, excitement, or emotional connection. These theatres speak well, move well, and make a profit (although the profit does not generally trickle down to the free-lance actors who seem to support the entire scheme). The audiences leave the productions smiling, but generally unmoved and uninspired, never realizing the true power of theatre.
There must be a third way that reclaims the past while moving towards a theatrical future. As theatre is a means of telling stories, perhaps the most efficient use of theatrical training is to reconnect to the ancient stories, rituals, and archetypes that are the basis of virtually every story being told. There are a finite number of stories and essential relationships from which these dramas emerge.[i] These stories and relationships are based in our biology, our familial histories, our collective unconscious, and our dream lives.[ii]
Joseph Campbell’s idea of the monomyth and “the hero’s journey” is a perfect template with which to begin because not only does it humanize Aristotelian theory, and emphasize the universal nature of stories, it places the emphasis on interaction with others as the only means for a “hero” to achieve his/her destiny. Actors who use the ancient stories and the archetypes that undergird them, can quickly reveal and be inspired by their magical inner workings. Such actors can be trained to work with an archetypal focus, moving past the present sociological or psychological variation of the story, and contacting the primal physical/emotional matrix underlying its current manifestation.
SuperScenes definition:
SuperScenes are exercises in which actors physically reveal the archetypal conflicts in the essential relationships of the text without words. These scenes in no way attempt to represent literal human beings. Their aim is to move past personality and into biology and impulse as motivating forces. They are meant to unearth the hidden complexities of the original conflicts through extreme physicality. When observed, they look like a cross between a dance and a wrestling match. The primacy of physical action is a way of reinforcing the strength of language as a socialized form for the communication of primal needs. Ultimately, a hoped for reconnection between the physical and the verbal will be attained.
Purpose of SuperScenes: The aim of a superscene is to move past the actor’s idiosyncratic patterns of behavior and allow impulse to lead, prompted by physical response to the acting partners actions.
Who should do Superscenes?
This method of work depends on strong ensemble connections, actors with good physical training including Viewpoints and combat is ideal. In general it is best with advanced and graduate students.
How this is done:
Before beginning, the actors do a close reading of the play to discover the myth or myths underlying the literal text in question. Once the myth is postulated, the relationships inherent in the myth are uncovered. We refer to these as archetypal relationships, and they are generally centered in love and biology i.e. mother/child, sister/sister, and so forth, lovers, spouses, and friends are also vital. [iii] Once determined, the actors work to find a god or demi-god that seems to be the power potential for the various characters’ actions. For instance, if we consider A Streetcar Named Desire, the scene between Stanley and Blanche may begin with Stanley as a Centaur and Blanche as the embodiment of Ishtar. Each of these archetypes implies unrepressed actions of one sort or another with very little psychology to weigh the actors down. As archetypes, they differ from stereotypes[iv] in that they include duality as a necessary part of their shadow and archetype.[v] CG Jung discusses the idea that every human and therefore every archetype must contain within it, its own “shadow” or as we might refer to it, its’ opposite. This Ishtar is both Good Mother and Monster Mother, and the Centaur is both gentle horse and rapacious stallion.
Pattern of SuperScenes:
1. Actors begin the scenes on wrestling mats, without words, usually slowly circling each other or observing each other until one or the other of them feels ready to make an assertive move. Thus, Ishtar may throw herself into the Centaur’s arms and the Centaur may attempt to tame the wild Ishtar. Full bodily contact is necessary and gesture is discouraged as communication. In the case of Sam Shepard’s, A Lie of the Mind the actors playing Jake and his mother Lorraine meet on the mat, Lorraine might use the concept of the Assyrian monster mother Tiamat, and Jake, Narcissus. The physical manifestation may begin with the mother rocking the child, but the actors are aware that conflict must be pursued. The two simply explore the archetypal possibilities in all their variety, moving impulsively from protective ideas to murderous impulses to sexual feelings and so forth. The only rule is that the conflict may never end, even though it will ebb and flow as the actors engage.
2. As this contact grows, the actors acknowledge wins and losses through tactical changes. The actors are side-coached by the teacher or director to seek conflict while accepting changes in speed, rhythm, intensity, fatigue, need, and desire to stop. Using Paul Kassel’s language of essential action[vi] (ki or push, pull, hold, and release) as a means of safety and understanding, the actors are encouraged to physically express all their impulses of whatever kind. They are instructed to stop and hold when the impulse to do so is felt, locking eyes, as soon as one or both feels a stalemate. As the two hold, they observe and interpret whatever non-verbal signals they are receiving. Following this assessment there is a release away from each other, and a return to physical conflict predicated upon the information gleaned from the “hold.” Thus, for example, during an embrace, the two actors may stop all movement for a moment, contact each other visually, and then release to another conflict depending on the impulse. (In this phase of the investigation, I frequently bring in two large magnets as a teaching tool, using their attraction and repulsion as a means of explaining power).
3. Depending on the scene and play, other actors who are important to the scene are prompted to join the scene even though they do not officially appear in it. For instance in Measure for Measure, Claudio may be asked to join the Superscene as an equal participant with Isabella and Angelo. In A Lie of the Mind, another actor may enter to play the absent father with the mother/son duo. Sometimes, half the class may be positioned on the mat as a family: Jake, Lorraine, Frankie, the sister, and the father, all ready to enter the fray or exit it as they desire. I may decide to send in an actor from the sidelines to play “Death” or another such active element in the scene. It is useful when the important elements of the play are “othered” and personalized. Concepts without faces are not as strong as fully embodied “gods” such as Death, Lust, Rage, and so on. Important props and furniture can also be personified. For instance, the radio in Angels in America, Perestroika pt. 2, which is losing its power, can be played by an actor who is dying. This enables the actors attempting to revive it, to fully appreciate its value.
4. As the scene progresses, irrespective of the actual scenic structure nor its literal meanings; the observing ensemble members record some of the actors’ moments. These physical moments/poses will be built upon as the scene is investigated further. Once again, this is done in silence. When such an important moment is discovered, I will usually call “Hold” so that the information can be transcribed in some way. We do not stop to discuss the pose and as soon as possible the actors are prompted to continue.
5. When the scene is physically exhausted, and depending on the actors’ progress in responding impulsively, the participants may be prompted to blurt whatever sounds that seem to be pressing to emerge during the strenuous activity. These sounds are repeated and generally aid in the physical expression of the action. Again, blurts are not words nor phrases and the actors must resist the desire to move into narrative.
6. This is the very delicate point when the actors may be fed random lines from the play to use, or they may begin with what they have already memorized. Either way, the physical dance/conflict is retained with little regard for the literal meaning of the language. If the actors back away from full physicalization upon the introduction of language, they are instructed to drop the words and return to sounds or silence; whichever feels more comfortable. Once they seem ready to receive the language again, ensemble members drop in the lines verbally.
7. As soon as it appears appropriate, many adjustments toward putting the scene together in a structural shape are possible:
a. The actors are asked to sit, with no physical contact, facing away from each other, while maintaining the physical understanding of the SuperScene as they use the verbal language of the scene.
b. The actors may be asked to immediately move into the “set” they have agreed upon and to do the scene with lines but with either an adjusted and less physical score or a completely physicalized score referencing the moments collected by their colleagues.
c. Characters discussed in the scene may be asked to join the scene on the set and to improv, keeping the stakes very high and the physical conflict alive.
d. There are many, many variations on this move from superscene to textual scene, but the most vital aspect is that when the actors do so, the physical exploration must be honored as the truth beneath the situation.
e. Generally, the scene is ready to be performed at this time and the actors
often bring in costumes, props, etc as additional elements. These elements tend to be fantastical or archetypally significant. In the performance, actors are encouraged to continue to explore and experiment. The joy the actors get from this process is worth the fear and frustration that they must court in order to grow. And, the performances are remarkably nuanced and emotionally deep.
My work with superscenes continues to evolve with the input of my students and colleagues and it is my hope that others will attempt these exercises as a way of empowering actors, reinvigorating language, and repowering theatre.
Theoretical building blocks for this approach:
Actors are not separate from their instruments and their work—they cannot stand back from their paintings or put their musical instruments to the side. Actors must use their entire beings as instruments, depending on an internally reflexive mastery of body, voice, mind, and impulse. Training actors therefore, is not an additive process, but rather a stripping away of extraneous behavior and attitudes in order to locate the essential humanity under the façade of persona.[vii]
Character can only be revealed within a dynamic relationship, whether with another person or with an imagined “other”. Without interaction, the static “character” has no meaning.[viii] A woman sitting alone on stage is momentarily interesting because the audience wonders what will happen? For anything to occur, someone or something must enter the room either physically or imaginatively, and the woman must change in someway to deal with the intrusion. It is at this point that action and interaction begins and we see the revelation of what we normally call “character.” If the actor is working spontaneously and impulsively, the “character” emerges from his/her essential being. That which is most recognizable to an audience is not the peculiarity or singularity of the characters in the play, but rather their shared human responses with the performers to the imaginative world. Instruction must strengthen actors physically, intellectually, and emotionally to safely undertake this life-long commitment of immediate and unedited responsiveness.
Dispensing with the idea of character as a distinct entity, as a target, or as a pre-condition to action, immediately pushes the actor and the director to an understanding that the “character” is what the audience perceives as a result of the actions the actors do to each other. If a play (according to Aristotle) is an action in and of itself, the actors must do actions that logically emerge from the factual given circumstances in the text.
Actors, when approaching a script, need to avoid focusing on “whom am I playing?” and set their minds and hearts to finding “what would I, as a normal person, do given this dramatic situation?” It is the problematic situations that call forth the uniqueness of the character; it is the circumstances that pull “the hero,” the protagonist, from his or her comfort into the conflictive journey of the play.
The idea of such a journey has its roots in the work of the mythologist and writer Joseph Campbell.[ix] When he burst onto the public scene with the Power of Myth interview series[x], many artists were influenced to revisit myth and archetype as the font of artistic creation. Another philosopher who came to prominence in the same historical moment was the psychologist and anthropologist Ernest Becker, whose book, The Denial of Death, postulates that contrary to Freud’s idea of sex as the essential motivating force, what people need most is to become heroes in their own lives. They create a “hero project” in order to snatch some immortality by aligning themselves with a power greater than their singular existence. In a sense, they wish to become demi-gods.
Since that time, many of us have viewed much of acting and the theatre itself through the lens of myth, ritual, and the hero’s journey. It is the predictable trials of the journey described by Campbell in The Hero with a Thousand Faces that the newly minted “hero” must endure and conquer to become a true Hero. He or she leaves the world of everyday life, undergoes a journey to a special world, overcomes challenges and fears, and secures a reward, either tangible or intangible, that is then shared with the left-behind members of the hero’s community.
Communal rituals are created to keep the stories that bind the society together using repetition of various aspects of the hero’s journey. The enactor of the “hero” is the priest or shaman who presents the tale. The theatre is a secular ritual bringing together a community to witness ancient stories, albeit in modern dress that when fully done, assists in a feeling of wholeness and connectedness to the human community. [xi]
Heroes are defined by the actions that they take; these actions evolve in the actor’s body and mind as well as in the audience’s imagination. For this reason actors must weave themselves personally and imaginatively into the facts presented by the text. They themselves are the ground of being. They must create new personally embedded images concerning the given circumstances (quite like the “false memories” discovered by neuroscience) for themselves.[xii] They must, at least for a few hours, believe in an altered reality, like children playing a pretend game. Once the actor has a score of images and potential actions, the task becomes to simply respond to impulses provoked by scene partners within the imagined circumstances.
It is within the phrase “simply respond” that the problem lies for most actors. We as humans are generally reticent to take unusual actions. We only move out of our comfort zones when the stakes are so high that we are propelled to do something that may be unusual for us in everyday life, but that is biologically necessary under a threat. And, as we know from studies in stress, our bodies don’t distinguish very well between a psychological threat and a biological one.
For this reason, it is helpful for actor’s to find powerful archetypes to help them move from the modesty of everyday life to the Superpowers that will enable them to do actions that are true to the conflict, but socially unacceptable. The theatre is not about the quotidian; it is about life at the edge of stress, and a large part of training actors is to help them recover the socially inappropriate impulsiveness they suppressed sometime in childhood.
Rationale
GIVEN: THE STORY
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Variations of stories emerged in different times and places in pre-history as a result of the need to explicate and protect life for at least one other person if not an entire tribe. Such stories probably predate verbal language.[xiv] Spoken language came later and further elaborated meaning, while at the same time making the meaning itself less magical. Writing clarified meaning while creating the belief in an actual “know-ability” that was not in the original powerful tales and myths.
A story by its very nature reveals duality at the level of “us” versus “other.” There would be no need for a narrative to be constructed unless some unique “outside” force did not enter and present an opportunity for growth or death in the community.
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Stories without audiences who wish to listen cannot fulfill their ultimate aim: enabling the listener/observer/audience to connect with the tale as a means of preserving and enriching personal and communal life. In this context, a book on a shelf is irrelevant.
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Therefore in order for stories to exist, there must be tellers who can handle the magic with insight and strength. They must reconnect with the force under the seemingly simple ritual.
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GIVEN: THE OTHER
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In order for any interaction with an externalized force to exist, the “actor/us” must be able to affect the “other/them” clearly and with the possibility of change for both of them. Humans are frail and when interacting with unknown external powers, they must arm themselves with Superpowers. Simply stated, the “other” becomes externalized when it becomes a threat in the way that “my headache” becomes “this horrible headache” and in order to fight such an enemy, the remedy must come from something more than the average medicine chest.
A Superpower is a condensed manifestation of human biological urges and potentials; Great strength, great sexual prowess, great beauty, great charisma, great nurturance, the ability to kill, the ability to fly, the desire to devour, and many other such powers.
Such superpowers are so charged that even they become “othered”. These “other” humanoids are given names and faces as they become stronger. They are called “heroes” or “gods,” and represent to the mind’s eye the Platonic perfection of whatever quality they hold within themselves. A power great enough to be a god, must also contain with itself, it alter-ego, its opposite. While stereotypes contains only one quality, archetypes are emanations of our own consciousness of duality; we acknowledge on a primal level all possibilities. For example, the Indian goddess Kali, is the Great Good Mother but also the Terrible Ravenous Mother.
GIVEN: ACTION
While there are many definitions in the world of acting theory, the most effective of these is that an action is something done to affect the “other/partner” as a means of survival. It differs from a simple activity in that it implies the intent to alter the “other” significantly I prefer this designation because it seems to be the most useful for actors forcing their attention on the partner/other.
Using growth patterns from child to adult, it is obvious that there is a hierarchy of actions. These begin with biologically-based overt and physical grabs, pushes, escapes and progress from simple verbal grunts, to more discreet demands and commands, followed by the to more covert and psychological manipulation of language. The more physical the action, the more “primal” it would seem to be.
Humans are far more skillful at reading action than emotion or listening to words. We are biologically “wired” to read the intention of “the other” as a survival mechanism. The recent theory of mirror neurons[xv] leads us to postulate that we unconsciously respond to the intentions of another person with our own neurons that fire simultaneously with those of the doer. We interpret intention even before the action is completed. This would seem to be quite logical given the need to respond before our physical boundaries are transgressed on whatever level.
It then must follow that the more primal the action/intention is for the doer, and the more unequivocal the response from the receiver, the easier it is for the audience to engage, and for all to connect in a kind of web of neurological firings.
As I have postulated, language evolved partially from the ancient stories, which are based in our sociology and biology. Words therefore are an attempt to translate feelings, needs, and images that are essentially incapable of being fully expressed. However, while language is feeble in comparison to the emotions and images it attempts to represent, it is a vital tool for the sharing of ideas with clarity. It is possible that the more elaborate the language, the deeper the actual story may be buried. The subtleties of language, the seeming everydayness of contemporary dialogue, the poetic high flights of classical verbal imagery, and the banalities of crudely written scripts, are all based on the same volcano, which when disturbed can explode with meaning. Language is not the point; making sure that the story is clearly and deeply received is the objective. Super [xvi]Scenes are an attempt to reawaken the original impulses both physically and verbally.
When actors are allowed to fearlessly contact their wildness-- spontaneity and surprise becomes a focus of the work. The ferocity underlying language and movement can invigorate the façade of civilized behavior. An actor’s commitment to the extreme physicality allowed them in myth makes the actor’s intention and emotional life more accessible to themselves and to an audience. Acting teachers and directors should at least attempt this series of exercises. Even when such investigation may at first seem unclear, such attempt may produce results that justify exploration if these ideas. When I first began this journey, I was simply searching in the dark and superscenes are what I found. Perhaps continuing and adding to this search will enlighten us all.
[i] Polti, George. Tr, Lucille Ray. The Thirty-Six Dramatic Situations. A Digireads.com Book, Digireads.com Publishing, Stilwell KS, 2006.
[ii] Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Second Edition. Princeton University Press, Bollingen Series XVII, Princeton, New Jersey. 1968. Pps 3-40.
[iii] Author:
There are essential relationships from which all other relationships take their meaning; mother/child, father/child, sister/sister, brother/brother, sister/brother (husband/wife, lover/lover). Relationships such as these are based in love, whatever its definition and are the most volatile in human potential. According to the Encyclopedia Britannica, "In sociology and anthropology, a group of people who are united by ties of partnership and parenthood and consisting of a pair of adults and their socially recognized children. Typically, but not always, the adults in a nuclear family are married. Although such couples are most often a man and a woman, the definition of the nuclear family has expanded with the advent of same-sex marriage. Children in a nuclear family may be the couple’s biological or adopted offspring.” The biological and sexual relationships that make up the care-giving basis of a family/community are extrapolated out to other non-biological relationships, thus a “boss” becomes, on a psychological level, the father or mother of the worker. The best friend becomes a sibling.
[iv] Hillman, James. A Blue Fire, Selected Writings of James Hillman. Thomas Moore (Ed.) New York: Harper Collins. P 36.
[vi] Kassel, Paul. Acting: A Companion for the Acting Student. New York. Allyn and Bacon, 2004.
2.Becker, Ernest. The Denial of Death. New York. The Free Press, a division of Simon and Schuster. 1973.
From my point of view, a large part of what we call character, the human character, the mechanisms of the defense, and so on, are really a style that we build to deny our own mortality. To deny the fact that we are so fragile. So that as you grow up, you can feel pretty much confident that you are somebody and that you are moving along in this world under your own control, that you control your own life and death.”
[viii] Pinter, Harold. Program of the performance of The Room and The Dumb Waiter at the Royal Court Theatre on 8th March 1960.
“Given a man in a room and he will sooner or later receive a visitor. A visitor entering the room will enter with intent. If two people inhabit the room the visitor will not be the same man for both. A man in a room who receives a visit is likely to be illuminated or horrified by it. The visitor himself might as easily be horrified or illuminated. The men may leave with the visitor or he may leave alone. The visitor may leave alone or stay in the room alone when the man is gone. Or they may both stay together in the room. Whatever the outcome in terms of movement the original condition, in which a man sat alone in a room, will have been subjected to alterations. A man in a room and no one entering lives in expectation of a visit. He will be illuminated or horrified by the absence of a visitor. But however much it is expected, the entrance, when it comes, is unexpected and almost always unwelcome. (He himself, of course, might go out of the door, knock and come in and be his own visitor. It has happened before.)We all have our function. The visitor will have his. There is no guarantee, however, that he will possess a visiting card with detailed information as to his last place of residence, last job, next job, number of dependents, etc. Nor, for the comfort of all, in identity card, nor a label on his chest. The desire for verification is understandable but cannot always be satisfied. There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. The thing is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true and false. The assumption that to verify what has happened and what is happening presents few problems I take to be inaccurate. A character on the stage who can present no convincing argument or information as to his past experience, his present behaviour or his aspirations, nor give a comprehensive analysis of his motives is as legitimate and as worthy of attention as one who, alarmingly, can do all these things. The more acute the experience the less articulate its expression”.
[x] Moyers, Bill. The Power of Myth http://www.ovguide.com/tv/joseph_campbell_and_the_power_of_myth.htm
[xii] Association for Psychological Science (2008, August 19). False Memories Affect Behavior. ScienceDaily. Retrieved April 6, 2012, from http://www.sciencedaily.com /releases/2008/08/080819160245.htm
[xiii] book
[xiv] Pinker, Stephen. An Invitation to Cognitive Science, 2nd Ed. Volume 1: Language. L. Gleitman, & M. Liberman (Eds.)
Cambridge, MA: MIT Press
