In 1989, I saw a concert that consisted of a set by Jeff Beck, followed by a set by Stevie Ray Vaughan. The tour was called “The Fire Meets the Fury”. At some shows SRV followed Beck, and sometimes Beck followed SRV, which made no sense if you saw the show. I left the concert thinking, “Beck is a musical genius, but Stevie Ray Vaughan is a STAR”. His stage presence was overwhelming even before he actually came on stage.
From what I recall, the tour went badly due to jealousy and professional differences.
I have no idea what gave Stevie Ray Vaughan stage presence that Jeff Beck lacked (or maybe had when he was billed alone), but SRV had it in spades. I saw him many times, including before he was famous, and he was always mesmerizing.
Stage presence is not a matter of talent or appearance. It’s magical; it’s a gift. Up to a point, it usually does increase with experience.
I’ve never seen Jeff Beck in person, but yes on videos he is this staggeringly brilliant guitarist who visually comes across as an accountant on Thursday lunch break.
ETA: He doesn’t look bad or unhappy, he looks like an ordinary guy.
I’ve been trying (mostly failing) to figure out what I think stage presence is.
And due to other unrelated conversations, I thought about my ex. And specifically about how at the beginning of my relationship with her, 30 years ago, we had “chemistry”, and nearer to the end of the relationship, she (metaphorically but obviously) reached into herself and turned out the lights. Wilfully ended the chemistry.
And another situation, happier, in which I witnessed a group of top professional classical musicians rehearsing ahead of a recording session. It was distinctly underwhelming. Limp, even. Just a poor job all round. And then came time to record. I was apprehensive and confused. Some perfunctory words were spoken. The little red light came on. BOOM! The chemistry/electricity/whatever-it’s-called was immense. They played brilliantly. It was inspiring. They all knew themselves well enough to know where the “on” switch was within themselves. And they all knew and trusted each other enough that they didn’t worry about each other’s ability to do that.
I think stage presence is a way of communicating with or connecting with the audience, with a mechanism very much like relationship chemistry between individuals (though perhaps quite different “content” is flowing across that connection). And I think that fear or dislike or simple unwillingness can stop it from happening. I also think there are people who have rarely or never used this feature of themselves, and who may potentially not know how, or not reliably.
I would define stage presence as the ability to hold my attention for sustained periods.
I’m not sure if one important element in stage presence has been mentioned yet: the performer needs to actually be good. All the charisma in the world won’t hold my attention for long if they can’t play/sing/act/whatever.
Thus, I’d suggest the elements of stage presence are: confidence, charisma, and performance capability.
I disagree, because you know as soon as they arrive on stage. Peter Sellers, Dudley Moore, Rowan Atkinson - Mr Bean never says anything, but stage presence in spades anyway.
I worked on a big-deal musical in college (not as an actor) where the first male lead was supposedly this really gifted actor, and after a million rehearsals and a couple of performances I still wasn’t seeing it. Oh, he knew his lines, and people did look at him. But then some things happened and the guy who had been one of the musicians took over the part. And man, did things change. The second guy did not have the focus, showmanship, or (frankly) the outsized head, and I mean this literally, the first actor had an out-of-proportion big head, but for some reason with the second guy in the part everybody in the cast seemed to sparkle. So while it diminished the “look at the main character all the time” part the play was actually much better with the second guy in it for everybody else.
Now as to why? The first guy had the mannerisms. He acted big. An, as I said, disproportionately large head and theatrically managed facial expressions. All this seemed to draw a lot of the energy on the stage to him.
The second guy fell organically into the part, like he was living it.
Have you ever seen a group of people on a stage and noticed that one commanded your presence above all others? That is stage presence. Very few people have it.
I went to see a revival of Carousel and one actor in the chorus had more stage presence than anyone I’ve ever seen. I waited at the stage door and got her autograph, telling her “You are going to be huge on Broadway.” Her name was Audra McDonald.
Montana Vernon, who plays Georgie Cooper on young Sheldon, has so much stage presence he steals every scene he is in.
Yeah, it’s not something I can define. It’s some kind of cool confidence that is projected through body language and connecting with the audience. It needn’t involve moving around a lot or making faces to the music or mastery of the instrument or anything like that (although it may). It’s mainly some type of confidence. There’s just some people who have this “aura” about them that is palpable. I wish I could define it or explain it, but I can’t.
I think I was actually considering there are different types of stage presence. The second actor’s only theatrical training was sitting through all the rehearsals as a member of the orchestra (so he knew all the lines and the cues). I think for most actors stage presence IS drawing attention. Or maybe just controlling that reaction.
I think I agree with a lot of that, but also, stage presence is famously susceptible to a kind of abuse - “pulling focus” it’s often called, not that this is the only way to pull the audience’s focus off of where it should be - in which the person is inappropriately doing things that make everyone pay attention to them instead of to the action.
Background: I am a weekend musician. I sing and play guitar in various bands. In the past I have been in regional acts, now I am local. I have played for up to 5,000ish people at festivals, but now I am mostly confined to the small club scene.
Anyway…I cannot quantify how much stage presence I have relative to others, but I can confirm that it is definitely something I turn on and off. I have frequently gotten myself into uncomfortable situations because when I interact with “fans” outside the context of musical performances they are seriously underwhelmed. They ask if something is wrong with me, if I’m mad at them, etc. or, even worse, they think those things and don’t tell me. I have actually unintentionally made enemies this way.
In other words, normal me is very normal. Stage me is a different person.
My go to example of this is Julieanne Moore in the Fugitive. She is in the movie for maybe two minutes but she completely takes over every scene that she’s in making you think the movie is about her character instead of Kimble.
