ACTING SUCKS

A great actor advises: “Always assume the other actor’s performance is perfect.”

Isn’t that just beautiful?

Only an ignorant, immature actor blames others for the success or failure of their own performance. Who but a novice would whine to their director, “They’re not giving me enough to react to!” or “Well, if they behave like that then my character would do [something not indicated in the script].”

Comments like that reveal a denial of the actual process, as they can only come from someone who’s predetermined how they intend to play the scene. Theatre, one of the most collaborative art forms, must remain fluid and open to possibilities, particularly those which come from your fellows. This is especially true during rehearsal. You must give and you must take. Listen. React. Go with the flow. Play the scene without judging the other actor’s contribution.

You’ll be surprised at how much better it all turns out once you release your preconceptions. They were, after all, merely a handful of possibilities in an array of others.

Actors mustn’t read reviews of productions in which they have a role. Any actor claiming 100% detachment from a review in which they’re mentioned (or probably worse: not mentioned) is a damned liar.

A “bad” review will cause heartache and doubt.

A “good” review will make an actor relax, which somewhat dulls their edge.

Constructive criticism from a trusted peer is the best you can hope for. However, being a trusted peer, this person will probably only bolster your own suspicions: It is/you are/they are either awfully wonderful or wonderfully awful.

Take this opportunity to defeat your ego’s petty curiosity and take Pandora’s lesson to heart: don’t read reviews.

NOTE: If you can’t resist, wait until the run ends or you leave the production before you absorb any strangers’ opinions. That way, you’ll only taint your memories.

I’m paraphrasing, but somebody said, “Acting is the art of translating ink into behavior.”

If you have questions about your character, and you must have one or two, the answers are in the script.

What is character? As the saying goes, “Character is the sum total of our everyday choices.” That’s the first, best way to take measure of your dramatis personae… by taking note of what they choose to do (or not to do), during the course of the play. Much as we perceive and come to conclusions about actual persons by reading the news: we absorb the reportage of what they did and, eventually, what the investigators believe their likely motivations were: we then assess their character.

Saint.

Coward.

Warrior.

Whore.

So, that’s your first task when reading a script: to discover what the characters do, and to whom. The second task is to answer as to their reasoning why they do what they do.

Don’t try to act until you know what your character is does (or doesn’t do) from moment to moment, and then suss out what drives their decisions to do it, what floats their boat, what makes them lose sleep, etc.

It’s all there in the ink, detective.

Forget greed: insecurity is the root of all evil.

Self-consciousness is borne out of insecurity.

There is a level of self-consciousness which, out of necessity, belongs on the stage/set. However, aside from rare circumstances*, this measure of self-consciousness must be strictly relegated to technical matters: finding light, hitting marks, not actually injuring yourself or other characters, etc.

Self-consciousness manifests whenever you’re concerned about appearing “correct” to outside observers. Of course, there are scenes where it makes sense for characters to be self-conscious, but those are matters within the confines of the world of the play.

Personal concerns of the actor exist outside the world of the play. Any measure of the actor’s consciousness/energy that isn’t focused-on/channeled-into reacting to the world of the play diminishes and distracts from it. That’s not a bad catchphrase: you’re either reacting or you’re distracting.

If you’re a naturally insecure person, you’ll have to chip away at any notions of inadequacy until you’re able to enthusiastically risk falling flat on your face in bold pursuit of the moment-to-moment truth. You must dispel your concerns about how you look and behave onstage, because you and only you care how YOU (personally) may be coming off.

Everyone else of consequence is assessing the effectiveness of the character.

*Usually delicate matters of style or tone, most often found in experimental or satirical works.

Under the category of Easier Said Than Done is the phrase, “raise the stakes.”

“Raise the stakes,” is theatrical jargon which roughly translates to “need/desire it* more.”

“Stakes,” in this particular sense, is a bit of a twist on a gambling term which refers to the amount one has wagered on an outcome and thereby stands to lose. Dramatic circumstances dictate that something of personal importance is “at stake” for every character in the play.

However, knowing what is at stake isn’t enough. That knowledge must be wed with how passionately, EVIDENTLY** the character feels, not only about the potential rewards of their impending win/success (positive: anticipation/excitement) but also the depth of their concern towards the penalties of losing/failing† (negative: apprehension/anxiety).

You may avoid the request to “raise the stakes” by answering the following questions and applying the answers to your performance as early in the process as possible.

1. What does your character need?

1b. From whom?

2. How desperately do they need it?

2b. Why?

3. What will likely happen if they win/succeed?

3b. How do they feel about that?

4. What will likely happen if they lose/fail?

4b. How do they feel about that?

The bottom line: if your character doesn’t seem to care about their fate, neither will the audience.

* Whatever the character desires most at the given moment.

* This doesn’t mean “be more obvious.” Never resort to indication or “telegraphing.”
 

† Never discount the value of fear as a motivator.

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”

Similarly, a work of art is incomplete without a patron’s presence.

The relationship between the actor and the audience is mysterious. The research is spotty: the findings dubious.

An attentive, responsive crowd is generally preferable to a passive, seemingly subdued one.

Is the latter, by virtue of attendance alone, deserving of our best work? Of course they are. They just don’t make it easy.

The audience shifts in their seats and coughs. “Tough house!” we say, and are tempted to add some extra “oomph” to our performance (few would give less). However, the antidote to a lukewarm audience isn’t to “try harder” and project more energy across the footlights. The solution is to direct more of your attention and imagination towards the world of the play. If you succeed in that, the audience will invariably follow suit.

An adversarial attitude towards any audience as a whole is a mark of immaturity. As performing artists, we are our art, and no true work of art will ever succeed in pleasing everyone.

Only the foolish attempt to do so.

There are two unenforceable* yet all-important duties an actor must undertake when they take part in a production:

The first duty is to their own safety and the safety of their fellow company members.

The second duty is to encourage their fellow actors’ belief in the world of the play†.

*Not found in the rulebook.

†Includes screen/teleplays.

“Acting is reacting.”

We hear this all the time. But what does it mean?

Some actors don’t have to worry about it. They’re naturals. Somewhere along the way, something clicked. Call it a gift.

It’s not that way for everyone.

“Acting is reacting.”

So, which comes first: the action or the reaction?

In drama, the answer must be the latter.

Accidents aside, no drama, be it in “real life” or onstage*, comes from nowhere. The world of the drama has been set in motion long before the curtain rises and you make your first entrance.

Acting is reacting: reacting to desire.

Acting is more than that, but never less.

*Including soundstages.

There are two ways to get a reaction from an audience:

1. Earn it.

2. Extort it.

One is healthy. It allows you to stay sane. It invites opportunity and keeps you functioning as an artist, and as a human being.

The other drives you insane. Poison flows through your veins. You become walking, talking toxic waste.

Somewhere along the path of your career, you will choose one or the other.

Choose wisely.

There are lots of actors who just don’t get it. Avoidance, denial and misery ensues.

Avoidance: of identifying problems; accepting responsibility for one’s state of being; engaging in decisive, effective action.

Denial: that anything’s amiss; that anything can be done to make it better.

Misery: ‘nuff said.

Take heart. You’re not alone.

Let’s figure it out.