Glenn Close has called the performer’s condition a condition in which one allows oneself to disturb the molecules in the surrounding space. On stage the actor “disturbs the molecules” up to the last row of the balcony. For lm, the actor must disturb the molecules of the camera lens. These are very di erent experiences for the actor, and require adjustments to his energy and concentration. There are stage actors who don’t connect to the camera, who are, in a way, afraid of the camera, and there are lm actors whose work doesn’t read at all on stage. But the ways that stage and lm actors prepare are similar. The goal of an actor’s preparation is always the emotional truth of the role. Acting that is too fake and stagy for lm is, to me at least, too fake and stagy for stage. (Four-camera television comedy—rehearsed for ve days and then lmed or taped in front of a live audience—is both a stage performance and a lm experience for an actor.)
Stage actors (and four-camera comedy actors) must put together in rehearsal a fully structured characterization, complete with spine, transformation, through-lines, and beats. Since lm acting is done in bits and pieces, a whole performance can be patched together with tricks and quick xes. Some directors prefer to work this way, rather than by allowing the actors to create a fall characterization, on the theory that the demands of a full characterization will con ict with moment-by-moment freshness. Sydney Pollack, although he comes from a stage background and used to schedule lengthy rehearsals, has said that in recent years he prefers to work without rehearsal, con dent that he can get the moments he needs with a word or two just before the camera rolls.
Certain directors, such as Ken Loach and sometimes (reportedly) Woody Allen, don’t give actors a whole script.
On the other hand, since lm acting is done in bits and pieces, an actor who knows how to craft a full characterization (Meryl Streep, for one) can be an exciting collaborator with a con dent director. Directors as diverse in their rehearsal and shooting methods as Martin Scorcese, Sidney Lumet, Robert Altman, Jane Campion, and Quentin Tarrantino all rely heavily on the actors’ contributions.
PROFESSIONALISM
“Skillful actors acquire great expertise, and the greater the expertise, the more difficult it becomes to [surrender],”
—Vanessa Redgrave
Besides learning the craft of acting, lm and television actors also learn camera technique. This includes hitting marks, nding their light, and not blinking. Over time, their familiarity with these technical tricks can make their acting slick and less exciting to watch. Actors can also burn out, get sloppy, or general. They may even take roles they are not particularly interested in just for something to do.
Actors often develop a bag of tricks, a set of e ects they know they can reliably produce. My teacher Jean Shelton used to call this “tap dancing.” She meant a reliance on showy emotional or comedic shtick for its own sake, at the expense of listening. It is also called mugging. For example, romantic comedy heroines Carole Lombard, Irene Dunn, and Claudette Colbert invented and brought to its peak the screwball, “quirky”
comic heroine. They were great ensemble players, great listeners. They always played o their partners; they never demonstrated “quirkiness” for its own sake. But it’s a great temptation for an actress who wants to entertain the public to establish for herself a set of glances, shrugs, and in ections that become a formula to produce an e ect of quirkiness, and to put her concentration on producing these e ects rather than on the response of her partner. This is called playing her bag of tricks.
It is also called buying a moment “cheap,” or trying to “slip a moment through the back door,” as Tom Hanks, in an interview with Roger Ebert, described his trick, in some early movies, of punctuating a dramatic moment with a “look-away, half-eyes-to-the-sky” number. He then expressed his gratitude to the directors who knew enough to call him on such gimmicks. You should understand that actors with a well-developed bag of tricks are usually highly talented people, and that honesty and listening will not cost them their inventive facility, but will enhance it. Secretly they know this. These actors are capable of wonderful, honest work. Sometimes they just need a director with guts enough to ask for the good stuff and they’ll put it out.
In addition, from being on many sets with lots of time on their hands, experienced actors may learn the following: how to watch themselves in dailies; how to judge material; how to design lighting and camera angles, especially those that will present them and their work most e ectively; how to get respect. You may notice that some of these things, like lighting, camera placement, and watching dailies, are usually considered director’s jobs.
It’s hard to direct people who can re you. I think a young director has to cope with the situation head-on, meet with the star, and have a frank discussion. You’ve got to let actors know that you love and respect them and you want to make the best use of their talent—that’s why you’re there. If you’ve gone ahead on a project with an actor that’s been foisted on you and that you don’t even like, I don’t have any advice. But if you’ve
gone with somebody that you know might be di cult but that you think will bring excitement to the project—dive in! Go after it. Go after the relationship. Good actors know that if they do their job and if you do your job they’ll look better. Sometimes you have to prove to them that you know how to do your job.
Actors at a high level of expertise are very canny about scripts, know a lot about directing, and usually show up for work completely prepared and professional. You should not let yourself feel frightened about working with such actors. Don’t let yourself resent their power. Find ways to communicate with them and tap into their resources and learn from them, but don’t abdicate your responsibilities. The actor is not served by a director who lets him take over directing decisions.
Directors in episodic television have special problems. Unlike Jim Burrows, who directed nearly all of the “Taxi” episodes and who now directs only pilots, most episodic directors are “hired guns” who come into an established show and are expected basically to direct tra c. In this situation the actors can legitimately claim to know much more about their characters than you do, so why should they take any substantive direction from you?
Professionalism requires actors in television series to maintain their characterizations even though there may be di erent directors every week. That means that their spines are set. It would be a mistake for a director to come in and try to change basic characterizations; this would be a disservice both to the actors and to the viewing public.
What do you do when the actors have more professional experience than you do?
First, make a script analysis.