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acting

“You are interesting to the extent that you’re interested”

This is one of my favourite acting ideas. I heard it first in an early interview with Jeff Goldblum and he had learned it from his teacher Sanford Meisner.

It’s the idea that as actors one of our key jobs is to put our focus outwardly, on the world, the task and, most beautifully, on our scene partner.

They say there’s nothing more captivating than watching someone tying their shoes. They are unselfconscious and completely wrapped up in their simple objective- tying their shoe.

This is the gold standard we are going for as actors. We want to honestly have our focus, energy and intention on doing something.

I say ‘honestly’ because we must fight the natural human urge to be liked and thought of as good. And there’s the extra thing for actors of auditioning, where we have to somehow forget we are seeking to be cast.

Part of acting is learning to ‘honestly’ place our focus.

That’s it.

It’s riveting when someone does that. Don’t worry about being interesting, get interested.

The actor and the swear word

Andrew Scott is one of my favourite actors- and someone (dared) ask him how he remembers all those lines.

Even though this is every actor’s least favourite question- Andrew managed an answer that has stuck with me.

He said that generally actors have no problem remembering swear words. If their character really get’s to give it to another character in an outburst or argument, the indulgent part of every actor has ZERO trouble remembering that sequence.

The same goes for any text that an actor finds silly, gross, weird or unusual in some way.

What’s really happening is the text is causing an emotional movement in us. We are creating an emotional map; physiological reactions that embed the specifics of the text in our brain. It seems to live there ‘rent free’ as the kids say.

The game then, Andrew says, is to make every word your character says as interesting as the swear word. Our job is to connect to each and every word so they fall out of us as effortlessly as that weird part you could recite in your sleep.

We can’t force ourselves to remember things- it has to resonate emotionally for us. Brute force won’t do it, we must soften and connect.

Soften and connect- now that’s a pretty good way to be in general, don’t you think?

Words fail

My dad just graduated from a year full immersion te reo Māori course.

The ceremony was full of emotion and as I watched family after family get up in support of their person, they performed beautiful haka, waiata and karanga.

As actors, words are our weapon to carry emotion. In musicals the character must sing because the emotion is too big for mere words. There’s no other option.

But of course the emotion is always too big for words. Shakespeare knew that words fail. The prettiest, fanciest or coolest words strung together pale in comparison to the ocean and galaxy of energy they represent, pumping out of our heart.

These families had the gift of song and of haka to carry their pride. To stand and make all the beautiful noise they could to show a tiny preview of what’s going on inside.

How lucky that we have our culture and our art to begin to express what’s inside us.

Yes, words fail. Songs fail. But the humble pursuit to use both to express ourselves is a beautiful one.

SING! MAKE NOISE! SHARE!

Florence’s pang of nerves

What causes growth?

Weet-bix!

Yes, lot’s of things. And growth is life. (So weet-bix is life)

Here’s something else that causes growth. Florence Pugh was asked how she chooses what projects she wants to be a part of.

She said she is looking for something that scares her, something that on first reading she fears she might not be able to do.

Florence is looking for the “pang of nerves’” as she calls it when reading a script or learning about a project for the first time.

She’s feeling into her limits. She knows that if she feels that pang, she’ll probably end up doing that project.

With an orientation like this, she is predisposed to growth. She’s on the hunt for what scares her, whether it’s jumping off a building or working with acting royalty; the minute she feels that lump in her stomach, the deal is done.

This is insanely brave. How often do we feel that same pang and avoid it? I know I avoid it all the time.

What is it to lean into it instead? How can we transform that stomach drop moment to mean massive growth is about to happen?

Rehearsals build certainty

An actor in rehearsal is building the future.

You’ve heard of vision boards, right? Don’t lie I know you have one!

They seem kind of embarrassing when others see yours, but they are powerful visualisation tools. When I first heard of them I thought it was all a bit mystical, but the older I get the more I understand how important it is to see something before it exists.

To build a house you draw up the plans for it.

To take a road trip, you use a map to see and plan the journey.

I knew all this in theory, but I recently realised that the actor’s rehearsal process is also a visualisation exercise.

To get a desired outcome, we have to have a sense of certainty of what it will be like when you do it.

The first day of school is daunting because we can’t picture in our heads what it will actually be like- who will I sit next to? What do the classes look like? What will happen? (Sometimes we imagine it worse than it will be). We don’t have a store of images and experiences ahead of the first day of school, we can’t visualise it, therefore it’s a difficult experience before and possibly during.

The 513th day of school on the other hand, is a lot less daunting- or at the very least we know exactly what to expect.

An actor in rehearsal is laying the foundations and ruts of certainty.

“I will go here, I will do this and then this and then this. The audience will be there, the lights will be there and then I go backstage and have 7 minutes to get changed, have a drink and get the rubber chicken.”

Without this methodical and gradual process, actors don’t have the certainty they can perform at their peak come curtain.

When I think forward to 3 months from now when we’re remounting a show I tour in the US, I get zero nerves because I have laid hundreds of ruts of certainty. I can visualise exactly what it will be like.

So a fun game I’m playing is to create that level of internal certainty for things I don’t yet have in my life.

I think this is what the vision boards are all about. If we can make our desired realities as clear, as vivid and as real as our actual realities, we’re a heck of a lot more likely to get them.

20 years to be an actor

One of my tutors at drama school said something that shocked me.

Here we were, 20 young actors in our first year of training and he said “It takes 20 years to be an actor”

What!? But this is a three year course!

I didn’t get what he meant at the time, but 10 years into that journey I’m starting to understand.

Of course we were actors then and we still are. But I think what he was actually saying was much less controversial:

There is always more. Always.

The simplest acting exercises yield infinite and new learning across the years.

You re-meet the old with the new that you have now and the old becomes new.

And it keeps going like that.

I’m glad it takes 20 years, it’s the ride of a life time. I’d like to sign up for another 20 after that too.

There is always more- how good.

We remember things we enjoy

For something to light an audience up it has to light you up first.

I think the same with my students; If I want them to get excited about something, then by golly I better be excited about it first.

We have to find our way in. It may not be immediately obvious, but there is always a way to bring it to life for you. If actors can do it each night in the same show hundreds of times, then so can you.

In an interview, Andrew Scott mentioned the lines he has no trouble remembering are the ones he has fun saying.

Those flying colourful insults and hilarious punch lines.

Actors never forget those lines.

So to help him learn lines he’s looking for the delight in all of them.

It’s the same with all our work.

Find the pleasure in all of it, plug into it and help others find it for them too.

Muddy vs. Complex

When is something detailed and when is it just muddy?

As actors we want complex work. We want layers and intricacy in the characters we portray- this is the stuff that mirrors real life most accurately.

We don’t, however, want things to be muddy.

I’m wondering about the difference.

What makes something muddy, unclear and imprecise? And what makes it complex, layered and intricate?

Real life can look and feel messy- so art should as well, right?

Well I think art is actually different to life. Aaron Sorkin said he’d been criticized for the dialogue he writes as it doesn’t feel ‘authentic’.

He retorted that real life can be boring- we don’t want to watch a couple of guys discuss what pizza they’re going to get.

Art is framed. We show this moment- not that.

Art is crafted. We need to be able to understand it to digest it and be moved by it.

So yes, be muddy. But be clear in your muddiness; certain of the uncertainties.

Don’t let yourself off the hook- are you being lazy or have you orchestrated this?

There is always room for us to ask deeper and find more.

How cool.

Do an impression of me- PLEASE!

There’s that idea that imitation is the highest form of flattery. If someone likes an artist’s work, they imitate it.

I also think impersonation is similarly flattering. We find ourselves doing impersonations of people like Robert De Niro or Christopher Walken.

Some might find it strange or even offensive if someone is impersonating them, or creating an impression of them.

I guess it can be offensive if it’s done in order to belittle or make fun of; but even then I think it can still be flattering. We can merely remove the person’s intent and look at what they are doing:

They are doing what you do. They are making themselves the way you recognisably you are.

That’s fantastic.

It means what you do is not only clear, but it’s unique, recognisable and it sticks.

You can’t buy that.

You earn that by being you. An impression is the bold cartoonish outline of the bundle of specificities that make you.

I’d much rather be impressionable that generic, abstract or forgettable.

Yes! Do my voice, copy my mannerisms! What are the types of things I say?! Yes go on, say ‘em!

That’s called a stake in the ground.

The audition

“Here, this is what I make”

As actors, we can fall in the trap of trying to morph into what we ‘think’ the casting director or director want.

We reach for something and in the process lose our authorship. This is a destabilising place to work from and makes the whole process feel empty.

“Here! Do you like this? Is this what you want?”

The alternative of course is radical authorship. It aligns with this idea of doing in the audition exactly what you would do on the shoot day.

Seems obvious, right?

Of course understanding what the project needs, the tone of the piece and the directors past work can and should feed into your process.

But it’s an interface, not a foundation.

Instead, it’s saying “Here, this is what I made. Here’s what I uniquely bring to this, you likey?”

This is a much more satiating orientation to the audition process. We remove the desperation and we get back to our art.

Every audition really is an opportunity to work, as Bryan Cranston encouraged us. The minute we reach for what we think they want is when we stop actually doing our job. We’re just entering a weird lottery at that point.

Ignite the artist and unleash the full force of your creative craft on that audition.

When you do that, whether or not you book the job becomes irrelevant.

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