The Life.

Actors are loved.

Actors are loved by the people.

You are part of art and culture and therefore play a key role in the life of the society.

People have always gathered together to see and hear stories — stories that reflect life.

Those stories reflect the working day, the life of the people, the weal and woe, the concerns and aspirations. 

We need this artistic interpretation of life to help us learn and grow.

As Hamlet says to the Players, “the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is to hold, as ’twere, the mirror up to nature.”

Nature being life, and the mirror — our stories in film form.

Your significance as an actor is defined by your ability to reflect the human condition.

The media barrage of movie star gossip and drama that can occupy your mind is another thing altogether. 

Creation.

In a September, 1793 letter to publisher George Thomson, the great Scottish national poet Robert Burns writes about his process of composing poems based on music:

I consider the poetic sentiment, correspondent to my idea of the musical expression, then choose my theme, begin one stanza, when that is composed — which is generally the most difficult part of the business — I walk out, sit down now and then, look out for objects in nature around me that are in unison or harmony with the cogitations of my fancy and workings of my bosom, humming every now and then the air with the verses I have framed. When I feel my Muse beginning to jade, I retire to the solitary fireside of my study, and there commit my effusions to paper, swinging, at intervals, on the hind-legs of my elbow chair, by way of calling forth my own critical strictures, as my pen goes.

Jumping on hotel beds.

You’re excited at landing a job, and upon arrival in your hotel room, you jump on the bed. 

And why shouldn’t you be excited when new work arrives?

But you have a right to work and it should be par for the course. You aren’t “blessed” to have a job. You earned it. 

The movie system will seduce you in many pernicious ways. Just the fact that the job is out of town makes it appealing; out of the country, you’ll be ecstatic; “my driver is picking me up,” etc. 

The producers shoot films where it best suits them.

In these confusing times, it’s useful to have a sober attitude. The outlook that it’s your right to have enough work to earn a proper living is grounding. 

If you’re so easily swayed by getting to stay in a hotel, then there’s less chance you’ll fight for more important things.

The movie business can entice you as an actor. Every commercial audition is said to be for a US national; every TV role might be recurring. This gets your expectations up, but then when it isn’t a US national or a recurring role, you can crash.

Adding to a vicious and tiring cycle.

As a professional, you should expect to receive job offers in a straightforward and dignified manner with no false frills added. 

The right to work was going to be included as one of the human rights in the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights, but the United States wouldn’t allow it.

People have the right to work. 

That doesn’t necessarily elicit jumping on hotel beds. 

A peaceful pocket of time.

Observe when you’re in time and it’s peaceful.

You’ll be in thought then.

Seeing you thinking onscreen is something we want. Try to learn when you’re in time and to identify different blocks of time.

Time can be like being on a train that is carrying you along. Which train, which track.

Waiting can be peaceful. It is for me. If I go to a store with a friend and they go inside to shop, I love waiting outside. The security of knowing they’re inside; the security of knowing they’re coming back out. I wait, in peace. 

Time stands still for me.

That zone of transported time is useful to experience and to be able to reproduce on demand.

As an actor, you know about Time. Keep exploring it.

This particular time — a peaceful pocket — is just one specific time block. Something that I observed.

Which ones do you notice?

What you have. 

It’s interesting to think what you actually have.

Not what you think you should have.

You may wish you looked like a certain movie star and feel inadequate because you don’t. And dream that if only you had those looks, you would book more work. 

What do you have? What are your qualities? What is your natural personality? What skills do you have? What training have you had? What experience have you had?

Those answers, that compendium is what you are — actually are. And all of that is enough to play your roles.

Learning to release what is needed is the job. What you decide to release becomes your discretion. That decision comes from your outlook, experience, and taste.

Everyone is needed in the movies.

“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”

Witches. 

There are no witches.

But you’re like one.

When you work well, you conjure. How you and your fellow actors do that is secret. It’s difficult to do and it’s precious.

It’s like how witches work.

Appreciate your ability to channel energy and cast spells. It’s magic. And the people love you for that ability. To tell their stories.

There are others who might not appreciate it — like some studio heads, producers, directors, casting, agents. They don’t know what we do, so let them not know.

Cultured people know.

As witches were persecuted (for what? knowing something? speaking their conscience?) so you are, too, by not having a voice in the industry, being kept out of the system, not being appreciated, and always having to audition starting from zero.

Loving your ability to experiment, practise, experience, and create like a witch, drawing from your imagination and nature itself, will give you confidence in face of the harsh system you work in.

It’s difficult to make your potion.

Pool of power.

It’s enlightening the moment you realize the power you have.

Whether on set or in class, there comes a moment when you realize your power. Your pool of power. You feel you’ve reached deep inside. Deeper than you ever have.

A coach might point it out to you.

An epiphany.

Once you’re aware of it, you’ll make it your habit to draw from that pool. And you’ll feel its unlimited depth. You’ll draw deeper and deeper.

Your confidence will grow and more importantly — your conviction.

As you start a new piece of work, you’ll know you have your pool of power. Every human has it, and it is in its realization that the human factor is best released.

Enjoy your dipping ladle.

Sensitive.

I once went through a dramatic experience, and shortly afterwards I was quite anxious and asked my mentor what she thought it was. 

“Well, you’re sensitive.”

I didn’t grasp what she meant and said, “You mean like my system is weak?”

“No, that’s not it at all,” she said. “You’re sensitive and that’s why you’ve been able to create all the roles you have.”

I realized that was true.

I had never realized that before nor given recognition to it. And I certainly would never have described myself as sensitive. I would have been embarrassed to do so.

This was an epiphany. 

Stanislavski, in his book Creating a Role, writes, “The talent of an actor is sensitive, it reacts to all that is fine.”

Appreciate your sensitivity.

I now do mine. 

Humility.

One of the first actors I ever coached asked me the other day, “Do you teach proactive humility?”

I paused and thought about that . . . “Yes, I guess I do.” I hadn’t thought of those two ideas — proactive and humility — together.

I like it. I do teach that.

Dezso Magyar, former artistic director of the Canadian Film Centre and American Film Institute, once said to me, “You can’t be a good actor without humility.” I took that in right away.

I believe that.

What mitigates against you having humility? First thought that comes to my mind is the Oscars. Poor you and all us actors dreaming up and practising the acceptance speech. Hollywood by nature isn’t humble.

Having confidence and more importantly conviction is a different matter. You should build your conviction based on your experience and your thinking that supports it.

Taking your place means to be confident — as an actor, as a human being.

Humility allows you to better play those roles that are arrogant, aggressive, cocky, puffed up.

It also means you know you’re just doing a job like everyone else in the world. Particular, but a job nonetheless.

As the saying goes, “Acting isn’t brain surgery.”

You play an important part in society telling stories that reflect life. With modesty, with knowing your job is no more important than the next one, you’ll be closer to your audience and hence better appreciated.

How can you show life if you think you’re above it?

No explanation, no apology.

Your life as an actor will have many twists and turns.

Once you have analyzed a question, discussed it, and made a decision, why explain it or apologize for it? Your decision is made; now just act on it.

The actor says, “I should have stayed in town for TV work instead of doing summer theatre.”

Really?

That has you having regret for the path you took. You decided to do summer theatre and had that experience, and now you’ll move on to the next. 

You’ll have many different acting jobs in many different mediums.

Try to develop a perspective where you and your work are ongoing. None of your decisions are final or complete. 

Being a professional means solidifying and simplifying your work. Explaining and apologizing only create doubt for you and others. 

It is a lot of misspent energy.

Make your decision and carry on. Have the experience and live your life.

“I loved working with . . .”

Any two actors who have acted together have a special bond.

You’ve crossed into the imaginary world with your partner, and that is never forgotten. You both honoured the agreement to give and take. You held the unwritten thread that tied you together.

You appreciate each other.

Gushing over how much you loved working with your partner, the whole cast, the director, and everyone! is quite a different thing. Especially if they are famous.

Award shows, talk shows, movie sites, magazines, interviews, websites have actors expressing a false sense of joy and excitement about their latest project. 

The producers use actors as salespeople to promote their shows.

Kristin Scott Thomas told Decca Aitkenhead of The Guardian, “I’m often asked to do something because I’m going to be a sort of weight to their otherwise flimsy production. . . So, I’m stopping.”

Aitkenhead writes, “Actors are seldom this candid. It is an unwritten rule of the profession to speak highly of every film you’ve ever been involved in.”

In 2014, Dave Calhoun of Time Out asked Daniel Craig if he’d do another James Bond movie and he answered, “I’d rather break this glass and slash my wrists. No, not at the moment. Not at all . . . We’re done.” The movie industry heavily criticized Craig for his comments.

Human beings like and need to work. When you book a role, you’re pleased. When you finish your work, you’re proud. It’s natural and positive to recognize and celebrate that with your fellow workers.

Real appreciation best expresses the quality of your love of work.

Rights.

You have the right to ask questions.

Be that of the director, ACTRA, your agent, the cinematographer, producer, or writer. Or of your fellow colleagues.

You have other rights as well. The right to health care, education, and work.

The right to conscience is important. You can have your own thoughts and you can voice them. Freedom of speech.

No one has any more rights than anyone else.

All humans have rights by virtue of being human.

Telling your mother.

Do you still call your mother when you book a role?

Sharing your success is proper. 

But as a professional, can you develop the strength to carry on without validation other than your own good work?

When you were a kid, you’d be thrilled to tell your mom anything good you’d done. You were proud. 

As we grow and mature, certain relationships change naturally. Joining the adults in your family on their own level and taking your working place alongside them is natural. Equals.

In some families, being an actor isn’t considered as worthy as being a teacher, bus driver, electrician, or engineer. You might feel pressure to show them you’re successful. 

Let them have their own views and you have yours.

Take your place.

Being ecstatic when you book a role is euphoria and her cousin is depression. Evil cousins. Better you don’t invite either of them to dinner.

Take the high road.

The movie system is a tough one, as you know, and you’re trying not to live or die with every booking.

Point isn’t never to share good news with your mother — of course not. 

Consider what doing it means.

Put yourself first.

On set and in acting class, put yourself first. 

If you look after yourself, take your space, then you’ll be a good scene partner. 

Putting yourself first is key in your relationship with the collective of film workers making the movie. Each must do their job the best they can, making the whole better.

Don’t get confused by pseudo-artistic ideas like being nice, helping others, sharing. You already do that as a person, but don’t let it divert you from playing sharply.

In acting class, your order of importance should be you first, fellow actors second, and teachers third. This outlook lets you have the experience. It will lift the cloud that can hang heavy of trying to please your fellow actors and teacher.

There is authority you must follow. The director has it, and the acting coach has it. You can both submit to the authority and put yourself first. That’s not a contradiction.

Some parts of the work are your business, and other parts are not your business. Put yourself first in the business that concerns you.

Namely — playing your character.

Not the running of the class or the shooting of the movie.

Asking the question “What’s in it for me?” is always illuminating.

“Beg, borrow, or steal.” 

Professionals are students of the game.

In football (soccer), the best young players learn about the great players of the past. They watch their most famous moves. They observe tricks and techniques of the best players playing.

They try to copy them. They imitate them. 

As long as your goal is to play truly and serve the show, then what you use to assist you shouldn’t be judged by false purism. 

All great artists learned from and copied the past masters and the current ones. Don’t think it’s impure to copy. Anything you imitate will always end up being yours anyway. 

The issue is to learn from everywhere and everyone.

“I should have done better.”

What are your expectations take after take?

Shooting a television series is done quickly over long hours, and if you’re a regular, it’ll be all you can do to remember your lines.

Those are the conditions.

Within those conditions, you’ll want to have realistic expectations, so you don’t end up disappointed after every scene you shoot.

You’ll lean in with every take and try to be as truthful as you can. You can’t force that. But try not to judge how deep you go. The next take, you’ll try again, lightly, and with as much ease as you can, meaning it. Leaning in again and again . . . until they say, “Moving on.”

Then you know you’ve done your job.

There is no pure end to acting a scene, anyway. So, don’t search for it.

Only to end up disappointed that you didn’t find it. 

What’s clear is that you prepared your scene, tried your best, and they liked it. 

That’s doing your job.

Bar talk. 

Nothing more comforting than to be in the bar with your fellow actors.

Watch what you take from the evening’s banter as truth.

You learn from experience. Testing the experience is done in acting class where discussion of the work also takes place. Theory and practice.

And it’s done on set.

Chitchat about acting, the process, auditions, this director, that casting director, etc. over beer is reassuring as you feel the commonality with your peers. Very important. It helps objectify you and the troubles you face as an actor. They face them too.

But it isn’t a forum for serious examination of acting questions or of the business. The bar atmosphere lends itself to personal prejudices and ungrounded ideas. 

Check yourself to see if you walk home after closing thinking, “Aha, that’s the key to booking work! I’ll scream in the audition room just like she said!”

Especially if she is an actor who has more credits and experience than you. That’s like teenaged boys chatting at recess in the schoolyard and “learning” about the opposite sex from the older boys. Disaster.

Sharp appraisal and professional critique based on your work are both done in class. Other lessons are learned in the audition room, and most on set where necessity of production teaches you. These situations are formal and professional, and that is where you learn.

Bar talk is good to catch up on gossip and to find out what isn’t true.

“If you read the good reviews, you have to read the bad ones.”

During Covid, you didn’t get much feedback on your auditions. If any.

The agents became the only living person who responded to your work. It’d be fair to say their comments were mostly positive.

So be it.

Agents aren’t acting coaches, critics, directors, or others used to giving professional acting feedback. Nor should they be.

How to sift through comments that are normal, like when people say “You look great,” is something to consider.

An agent’s comment could be translated to “thanks.” 

For serious feedback, you need to work with those professionals whose job it is to give actors sharp and useful critique — acting coaches.

What the boys used to say still holds true, “If you read the good reviews, you’ve got to read the bad ones.”

Be good in a bad movie.

You can be good in a bad movie.

Set the bar high for yourself and fight to keep it there.

You may think parts of the production are of low quality, but there is no need for you to lower the level of your work.

You don’t write the scripts, produce the movies, or edit them.

Your department is the acting. You’re in charge of that department and responsible for your work.

The next role you play is an opportunity to raise your bar again and strive for excellence and quality despite the fact that the general trend in Hollywood today may be of a lowering of standards. 

Keep on the high road — you’ll buck that trend. 

You aspiring to your best can be done. 

Then your life as an actor in the movie business will really become interesting, and you’ll join all those who came before you and aspired to ideals and fought for them.

And when you are in a production where there is real harmony and volition for good work, it will be precious to you. Those jobs always engender real appreciation.

Keep your head held high.

One foot in, one foot out. 

That’s a terrible place for you to be working. 

One half of your mind going one way, and the other half going the other. Causes a disconnect.

Why?

There could be lots of reasons. Perhaps you think the movie’s content is racist, sexist, divisive, or violent; maybe you’re not being paid enough; or perhaps it’s a case of the conditions on set not being up to proper standard. 

These reasons are valid in and of themselves, but you can’t let them split you down the middle so that half of you is thrilled to be in the movie while the other half hates it. 

You’ll become miserable to work with, and the crew and cast will think you’re cranky.

That’s a terrible place to be.

What can you do to have both feet in?

Dignity. 

You can always bring dignity to every role you play: good guy, bad guy, high status, low status. Giving true meaning and honour to your character’s life is the high road. Find the life reason that made your character the way they are and do what they do. It’ll give you pride in your work. 

Appreciation.

Knowing that those working with you may have the same feelings about the movie as you do, yet they work hard on set and do a good job nonetheless. That they, too, have problems that they put aside when they come on set. Being a good fellow worker and appreciating the good qualities of others is the professional way and will help you and those around you enjoy the job. 

Quality. 

Always doing your best — acting as well as you can. This job of interpreting is your life, so you should try to raise the bar of excellence with every new role you get. The pursuit of excellence is a noble one. 

Humility.

This is the hallmark of a fine actor. Modesty. Recognizing other people’s problems and worries connects you to the human race, allowing you the space to express yourself more freely. It normalizes you.

If your mind is in it, your feet will be in it.

Why argue?

Arguing and discussing are two different things.

If you’re rehearsing a play, practising in class, or blocking a scene, why are you arguing?

You have a right to give your view, as long as it moves the discussion forward or develops the work. 

Arguing is a hallmark of today’s culture. We learn it in grade school: “I’m right!” “No, I am!” “Yes, I did!” “No, you didn’t!” “Oh, yeah?” “Yeah!”

The more serious and extreme form of this is brinkmanship — High Noon.

Not a discussion, but an argument.

Develop the culture of discussion while working with your colleagues. Part of the overall development of culture in society is the way in which we solve problems together. The form that takes.

Give your view and present your case sharply, so it assists the development of work or an idea.

What does winning an argument give rise to? 

Raising the level.

Why do we coach and teach actors?

Is it for quantity or quality?

I have had the objective for many years to raise the level of acting for actors in Canada. That would be part of a nation-building project if such a project were being built.

What other goal can us teachers have? 

Our practice is guided by our outlook, and our outlook is partly made up of goals. To have perspective is to ask “Where am I going?” It’s fine to be focused on getting actor A to have a good audition or to teach skills to acting class B, but this work is part of what? Is it individual?

Or part of a collective with common goals of excellence and quality?

Even if there is no collective per se at this time, we can still have that as our aspiration. To raise the level of acting in Canada so as to help raise the level of film and theatre art. To have a goal that is on the high road of civilization.

In 1956 at the opening of the second season of The Actors Studio, Lee Strasberg said, “We somehow here find a plan which should really contribute to the theatre, so that there should not only be the constant stimulus to your individual development . . . it should then actually contribute to the theatre. . . . The individual cannot do anything.” (From Strasberg at The Actors Studio — Tape recorded sessions.)

And George Hall, former director of the acting course at Central School of Speech and Drama, said, “I believe that the fundamental reason for running a theatre school is a desire to improve the theatre, not just to provide service for a recognizable consumer group, that is, would-be actors. I also believe that one teaches well only out of a vision of the theatre and a certain amount of rage about the waste of talented people one encounters who haven’t found a way to realize their potential.” (From Masters of the Stage, edited by Eva Mekler.)

From the individual actor, to the group of actors, to the company of actors, to the community of actors, and then to the country of fellow citizens.

We who teach and coach actors should continue the discussion on the work. We should ask how the work can best be done under these current conditions. We should share our experiences, our techniques, our practices. We should discuss the content of plays and screenplays. We should embrace the pursuit of ideals.

And we should try to avoid competing by comparing numbers of students attending our classes and what famous actors we coached.

What legacy do we want to leave behind?

Bored. 

Lots of characters are bored.

People get bored. You get bored. I get bored.

Some scenes, the two characters are just passing time. That’s their action. Their objective is to be happy. They get happy by hearing the sound of their own voices. 

They’re bored.

Iconic types in procedurals get bored doing the same job day after day and week after week. So do the actors who play those roles. Saying the same kind of lines episode after episode.

It can be useful and isn’t pejorative.

It’s useful to you as an actor to have boredom as part of the base you’re working from. Boredom creates a hum in your brain that can settle you, calm you, or sometimes get you rattled. All useful qualities to add to your actions in the scene.

Boredom is a great antidote to doing too much.

Just keep going. Take it easy.

Showing up is everything.

If you are training, have an agent, do auditions, act in movies and plays — you’re going.

That’s the opposite of stopped.

It means you’re walking down the road and not sitting by the side of the road. 

By walking down the road — participating — the solution to your problems will reveal itself. 

The old saying goes “You can’t help a man sitting by the side of the road.”

If you’re participating, you’re not a bystander. That’s enough. Why overwhelm yourself by wanting to do so much more? 

Now because you’re going — take it easy.

Just leave it.

If you’re attacking a problem and can’t budge it — try just leaving it.

Giving it time.

“Sleep on it.” That’s what we used to say back home.

Opposites create interesting possibilities. Seems passive, but it’s active.

Let it breathe and let your mind — which you like — do its work. The mind will work, and if there is a problem to be solved, it’s your mind that is going to do the solving.

The director says, “Moving on,” but you’re not happy with the scene. Just leave it and go on to the next scene. That’s how we make TV and movies. When the director is happy, that’s good enough — leave it.

Same in acting class. The coach gives you an exercise, you find it difficult — do it and leave it — come to it again next class.

If the issue involves another person — an agent, a director, a fellow actor, casting — then you can also give them time and space. Time to settle down. Reconsider, think, forget, and maybe realize or apologize.

When you injure yourself, you often just leave it to heal. The body will heal as it is always going back to stasis, balance, equilibrium. Let the active ingredient of time heal what’s bothering you.

An active way to solve a question is to leave it.

Peaks and valleys. 

Euphoria creates the peaks, and depression the valleys.

Two sides of a coin.

Booking a role — euphoria. Not booking it — depression. Don’t be deceived by the “normalcy” of that behaviour.

Try to develop an outlook that recognizes the vagaries of your actor’s life.

Making it your habit.

Humility helps. 

Having a humble approach helps prevent you from going too high. Having a realistic approach helps prevent you from going too low.

If you cut off the top of the peak, you can put that into the valley. 

Evening out your landscape.

Three strikes and you’re out. 

Having a three-stage approach allows you to be prepared to say no. Useful when faced with typical upsetting situations. 

Situations where you’re put on the spot, caught off guard, or humiliated. Under today’s pressure, people often put others down to make themselves feel good. It’s a tiring pursuit because nothing good ever comes of it.

As an actor, you may find yourself in recurring situations where you’re the brunt of these putdowns. A three-step learned response can help keep you stable. 

The family dinner over a holiday could be such a situation. 

Every year, your uncle asks you what movies you’ve been in — egging you on as always. For many reasons, you might not like his question but haven’t figured out how to deal with it.

You might want to blurt out “Leave me alone!” but that would disrupt the dinner and make you look like the bad guy. Or you might try to slough it off with “Whatever.” But that leaves you open to further questioning. 

If your uncle enjoys putting you on the spot and proving how stupid it is that you’re an actor, then he’s not going to give up easily. When someone wants blood, they’ll keep going until they get it.

A three-step response might go something like this:

Uncle: “So, what movies have you been in lately?”

You: “My work is going well, and I like being an actor just like you like being a dentist.”

(This is a positive answer that is also true so you’re not out on a limb saying something that you can’t stand behind. It also includes him, showing that you both work and like your work.) 

Uncle: “Ya, sure, but what Hollywood movies can we see you in?” 

(He won’t let up.)

You: “I’m fine.” 

(This short response should give him a signal that you don’t want to pursue this discussion. If you say it simply and give him a look that says, “That’s enough,” most uncles will get it.) 

Uncle: “You’ve been acting all these years and I’ve never seen you in a movie!”

(He didn’t get it so that’s his third strike and now you’re going to strike him out.)

You: “I’ve made it clear I don’t like your questions. Let’s leave it and enjoy our dinner! Thanks.”

(Your final statement may include “Hey, stop it,” “That’s enough,” “Shut up,” “Leave me alone,” or simply “I don’t like your questions.”) 

It could be two steps or four and done in any way that suits you. Point is: having a plan gives you confidence to say no. 

Clearing your mind. 

Actors, high-elevation steelworkers, and surgeons all need to clear their minds to do their work. 

When they begin working, they go into made-up time and space. They become the role, steel, or brain. 

In his book When Breath Becomes Air, neurosurgeon Paul Kalanithi describes time while operating:

Funny thing about time in OR, whether you race frenetically or proceed steadily, is that you have no sense of it passing. If boredom is, as Heidegger argued, the awareness of time passing, then surgery felt like the opposite: the intense focus made the arms of the clock seem arbitrarily placed. Two hours could feel like a minute. Once the final stitch was placed and the wound was dressed, normal time suddenly restarted.

Normal time restarted. That’s when they call cut. 

When the director calls action, you pass into made-up time and space. You have to. You make yourself believe it. You pretend to live in a time and space separate from those behind the camera. 

It’s acting. 

What wonderful abilities you have.

Clarity with thought.

On hearing truisms and maxims early on in your career, you learn the phrase. 

Often, you go round repeating it at opportune moments without giving it a thought. The assumption is that you heard it, it was explained to you, you get it, and now it’s yours. 

Done.

Over years of experience, it may end up that one day while experiencing something practical you reflect on it.

At that moment, a light goes on and you think, “Oh, that’s what that means.” The first learning of something, because it’s new, is shallow. The depth of a time-tested idea comes through practice of that idea.

It’s the natural development of things.

A learned narrative must be reconsidered. Simple phrases like “Less is more” must be looked at over and over again in the heat of acting. There the meaning will reveal itself.

Without getting overwhelmed, one must rethink and revisit the guidelines, laws, adages to see more fully what they mean and how they came about. It’s ongoing and never-ending. The words of wisdom can stand that seeking and scratching. 

It’s not just a question of age. 

As a young actor, you can develop this trait of thinking things through. Considering things in an objective manner, so you find out what the thing is and not what you think it is.

Often, on first hearing a jewel of a phrase, you instantly feel, “Ah, I get that!” Fine. 

But try to make it your professional practice to be thinking about questions and not just repeating what everyone else is saying.

Ease and grace. 

As an actor, where are you headed?

Lots of destinations are offered to the professional actor — fame, wealth, awards.

To work with ease and grace is what you do when you’re at your best. It is one of the goals that is practised on the high road of civilization. 

The work itself contains its own reward system that you, working well, will encounter. This is at least as valuable and definitely more instructive than the external validations.

That reward manifests itself in the deepening of your conviction. That is long-lasting. A breakthrough in your work is qualitative. Booking work — very important — is quantitative and the recognition you’ll receive from the industry usually doesn’t build your conviction.

Practising with this idea in mind — ease and grace — will give rise to it being your habit. The masters mostly work with ease and grace. It’s the state of those top directors, writers, cinematographers, designers that you’ve worked with.

Meaning: to focus on the work and your view of it.

It’s drawing from your pool of power readily, willing to reveal, fulfilling your professional obligations, and always leaning in to truth and beauty.

And doing it all with ease.

It’s liking what you’re doing. It’s a lightness of touch. It’s dreaming. It’s beauty.

Gently leaning. Conviction without forced effort.

In response to this entry, an actor wrote, “Reminded me of Muhammad Ali, ‘Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.’”

When the human being thinks and acts with ease and grace, questions get resolved.

I worked with . . .

Often this is used to put yourself up.

Because you feel down.

To validate yourself through Hollywood.

Another way to look at it is the continuation of the movie history and you being part of it.

Your respect for those good actors. Those successful actors. Showing real appreciation. That connection makes you part of the whole.

That is a positive way to express it.

Hoping your fellow actor will be impressed by the fact that you worked with so-and-so is a dead-end.

The thing.

Always be going to the thing.

A joke can be a useful lesson to you as an actor because it always goes to a punchline. That’s the thing. 

In scenes, the character is always going to one thing. You can call it the objective or what you will. If there is a transition, then that thing changes. Be clear what the thing is. You can’t play until you’re clear on what you want and how you’re going to get it. 

It’s usually something singular and simple.

We often think a thing is something, but that doesn’t mean that’s what it is. By investigation, you find out what the thing is, not what you think it is.

The same in the business side of your actor’s life.

If a producer says he’d really like you to be in the movie, that doesn’t mean you will be. They often say things like that because they can. Signing a contract means you’re in the movie. 

Develop your ability to define things and analyze things whether it’s the text, the business, or your life. 

Not knowing what a thing is leads to confusion.

Disconnect.

Snap.

That’s the sound of a branch being snapped in two, which echoes a disconnect.

Let’s see where disconnects occur.

You might say, as many actors in Toronto do, “I’m working with Movie Star X.” Yes, you are, you’re on the same project, but the examination of the idea of that and the reality of that might reveal something else. 

Usually, actors here have small roles in American movies, and that means your working time with the star could be short or virtually nonexistent. Hollywood stars rarely discuss things with day players. 

No, it’s not that they aren’t “nice”; it’s that they are too busy, and it isn’t Hollywood movie culture.

An example of this is the Canadian actor who has a recurring role in a big U.S. series shooting here and says that when it comes time to do detailed work on a scene, the director takes the two American leads aside to discuss it, leaving him on the outs.

That’s a disconnect. Between idea — working with the movie star and reality — and what actually happens.

If you have worked over many years and shot lots of film, movies, TV, and commercials, and worked extensively in the theatre, you might think you’ll be automatically given jobs based on your résumé. The disconnect is that you aren’t given jobs based on your résumé. You still have to audition.

In society, there is a basic disconnect where we live collectively and socially, yet mostly we have to fend for ourselves — individually — disconnected from the whole.

Interesting to consider disconnect in your work and in your life. 

Breathing in elevators.

When you’re in an elevator with other people, try to breathe fully.

It will make a sound.

That’s why people often hold their breath in an elevator. Breathing fully while in an elevator is one of many opportunities for you to practise your acting in public.

You should always do this outside work with dignity and respect for those going about their lives.

The practice becomes sharp because it’s in public and that puts pressure on you. Real people will be really looking at you.

An old practice trick is to use an accent. Once I was on a date in a bar using a German accent and, unbeknownst to me, the barman was German and he starting speaking to me in German. It wasn’t life-threatening, but things got hot pretty quickly. I switched to English, and all was fine.

Physicalities such as limping, blindness, twitches, deafness — all interesting. A completely different haircut worn in public can really have an effect on you as will wearing clothes you don’t normally wear. Men dressing as women and vice versa. 

Always being aware not to cross a line and end up being socially irresponsible.

Getting someone to look at you or to look away is another great exercise. Depending on what type you usually play, pick an iconic look of that type. High status — you might hold eye contact to try to make the other person look away. Flirting — you might try to get the other person to blush. Controlling — you might see if you can get someone who has passed you to turn around and look back.

Practising your acting out in the world can be edgy, and it can provide some heightened experiences. That can strengthen your acting centre. It’s an extreme experience because you have to keep it going.

Press the ground-floor button and keep breathing.

Tricks of the trade.

The young actor asks the master coach if she has a trick that will make him a better Shakespearean actor.

She’s horrified. And rightly so.

“No trick will make you a good actor. Only hard work will,” she responds. Our young actor was looking for — what I call — a quick fix.

When she recounted this story, I blushed inside because I often use the word trick in my teaching and writing. I sought out the Tips & Insights entries where I had used the word trick and quickly deleted them.

One night at 4:00 a.m., as it happens, I was reconsidering the idea of trick.

When coming about in a ketch, the skipper says to the new sailor, “Here’s a trick I learned that makes it easier to reef.”

The experienced footballer says to the young player, “A good trick when dribbling by a defender is to lean left and push the ball right.”

Michael Caine offers, “When you’re in a close-up, a good trick to bring your eye closer to the frame is to look at the other actor’s eye closest to the lens.”

The dictionary defines tricks of the trade as “special ingenious techniques used in a profession or craft; a clever method used by people who are experienced in a particular type of work or activity.”

It’s good our young actor asks questions, but when the question is the result of the effect the pervading culture has had on his thinking, then it’s up to the master to tell him so.

(I reinserted the word trick in my entries where it was appropriate.)

Lying.

The ruling elite are good at lying.

Every ten-year-old schoolboy knows that. 

Actors must be good at it too. Plenty of it’s done on TV and in the movies.

Our familiar characters in procedurals — cops, doctors, lawyers — lie nonstop, twist the truth, cover up, or give false evidence. 

Journalists have turned lying into a profession.

Lying to your partner about having an affair, spreading gossip, or even lying about lying is in the movies. 

Some things you’ll be asked to do as an actor will be difficult. You might not be a natural liar.

To get work, you must learn how to do them even if it goes against your grain.

Remember the key to lying while acting is to play it as if it’s true.

Stop, look, and listen. 

When you’re out and about, stop and look at the people passing by.

Play that age-old actor’s game of guessing who everyone is. What job each person does. Guess their age, if they’re married, nationality, income. Notice their bodies, how they walk, hold their head, and general bearing. Hair and makeup. What they wear. What it all means.

It’s observation.

Watch TV with the sound off. Notice how the actors stand, where they look, moving or still, where they are in the frame, blinking or no blinking. Note the iconic masks of the different types. The gestures. How they walk.

The great TV sitcom director James Burrows listens to his actors more than he watches. He is quoted as saying, “I walk up and down behind the seats during rehearsal, and if there is too long a pause or the intonation isn’t right, I yell stop.”

Take Burrow’s practice and watch TV with the picture off. Learn the tones of typical shows, listen if you think the actors are truthful, hear the language, the music of the speech, enunciated or slurred, how the different actors’ voices make up the whole.

Learn to work in smaller and smaller parts.

Stop, look, and listen.

Come to terms with your conscience. 

The grade three teacher said, “You’re only fooling yourself, Johnny.”

If you set out to do something — be an actor, go to an audition, act in an indie film, help a colleague do a self-tape — you have to have a clear conscience.

Think if you’re doing what you want or doing what’s trendy.

In the morning when you wake up — that’s the time to come to terms with your conscience. Only you can do that.

Talk is cheap.

The harsh winds of life and the movie industry both will wipe you out unless you’ve really thought it through.

How you relate to your agent. How you do your prep. How you conduct yourself with your colleagues. How you critique auditions. How you see the future.

Learn the difference between having a clear conscience and a cloudy one.

It requires thinking. Often help from a mentor or coach to discuss the issues objectively helps organize your mind and clarify your thinking.

It can make you a better actor.

Live and — not but.

Whether you use the word and or but makes quite a difference.

If you’re asked, “Are you working?” and you reply, “Yes, but it’s only a small role.” That’s very different from replying, “Yes, and it’s going well.”

Your self-talk is important to you as a professional. What you say reflects your outlook. Using and instead of but can have a positive effect on you. And others.

Try to avoid a culture of regret where everything you did is recounted as “I did this, but . . .”

Your experiences could be written this way: “I began acting and then I trained and then did summer theatre and then I had a recurring role on a series and then I trained again and then I went to Stratford and then I did Summer Works and then I made a short film and then I acted in Hollywood and then I got a Canada Council grant and . . .”

Or in constant disappointment, it would be written this way: “I wanted to stay in town for TV work, but I did summer theatre instead and then I was at Stratford but only had small roles, and I then got a Canada Council grant but only half of what I asked for and then . . .”

The Oxford English Dictionary defines and as “connecting . . . implying great duration or great extent . . . to indicate that they are being added together . . . implying succession.”

Learn to see your work and life as connected, added together, one of succession, duration, and extent. That’s what your work and life is. 

Using but gives the impression of apology and that whatever you’re doing is never enough. But begins the apology or explanation of what and why you are doing something rather than simply stating what it is that you’re doing.

If you’re asked, you can elaborate, but why shed doubt in your own mind and that of others?

Your actor’s life is difficult enough, so see if presenting yourself in an ongoing way cuts away some weight, leaving you a little lighter to carry on. 

Balance.

A colleague tells me they are trying to find balance.

If they didn’t have balance, they’d fall over. Literally that means they wouldn’t have food in the fridge or clean sheets on the bed.

But they do.

They’re functioning and living well as they deal with the life in front of them. That takes balance.

The figure skater is seldom equally on two feet, yet they hardly fall down. They have balance whether on one skate, spinning around, or leaping through the air.

It’s interesting to think why finding balance is talked about so much.

Informed. 

An important step in your professional development is being informed.

Only with the knowledge of how the movie business works can you fully participate in it and give your voice.

The financial side is often blurry.

You know how much you get paid, and it’s useful to find out where the rest of the money comes from and goes to.

You and everyone who works to make movies creates value. Remember that so you know that you have worth as an actor, auditioning, shooting, being part of the community.

That value is also manifested in money.

The union agreements are there to be perused so you know the basic pay for actors, electricians, directors, cinematographers. There is also information available on how a movie is financed, what the average fee is for casting directors, how much studios earn in a year.

For you to take your place, you need to know how the system works.

Some actors grow up with a parent who is a successful actor or screenwriter, and they learn the business at their mother’s knee. That’s an advantage.

Develop your advantage by asking the question often considered heresy: “The money?”

Your agent and the casting director have an advantage in that they know exactly how much you make. You might be at a disadvantage if you don’t know how much they make.

If ACTRA is in negotiations with the producers, then being informed as to what is on the table will enable you to think more clearly as to whether to accept their offer or not.

Are you informed as to how much the W Network pays for the Christmas movie you worked on that was shot in twelve days in Sudbury?

Saying “It’s your space. Take your place” includes knowing what’s going on. 

“Yahoo! Whoopee!” — “Whoa the horses!”

Riding a horse at full gallop you’re wont to cry out, “Yahoo! Whoopee!”

As in, “I landed a big role in a big movie. It’s amazing. I’m amazing.”

That’s euphoria. Where you can believe “This is my life forever” and it can only lead one way. Down. 

Down to depression. 

They’re linked — euphoria and depression. Opposite sides of the same coin. 

Try to learn to be sober-minded about your success. Watch the sagacity of the common actor’s description of life—“The ups and downs.”

Natural highs are good. They are part of life just as the natural low is. These ebbs and flows must be rooted to your life in the real world.

Euphoria is a state where, drugged-like, you leave this real world and enter one in your own mind.

Try to keep your feet on the ground in success and in difficulty. 

“Whoa the horses!” will stop your galloping horse from running away with you.

Student of the game.

At the 2010 Crossroads Guitar Festival, the great B. B. King plays “The Thrill Is Gone” and in a row sit Eric Clapton, Robert Cray, Jimmy Vaughn, Sheryl Crow, ZZ Top, Albert Lee, Jeff Beck, Steve Winwood, all masters in their own right

They are playing with and following the master. 

And those great players are also students of the game.

When Wayne Rooney first scored a goal in the Premier League, he already knew all the best strikers in the world, had watched their goals, and studied their moves.

All professionals watch and learn from the best. Imitate what’s worthwhile. Emulate their best qualities. See what makes them the best.

Learn the moves of actors who are your type. Get to know the iconic portrayals.

Talk to the older actors when on set or after an audition.

Recognize and appreciate the effort and sacrifice that your actor peers have made. Marie Dressler was a Broadway star and an accomplished actress. She participated in the 1919 Actors’ Equity strike, and the producers made her pay for that by not hiring her.

Paul Robeson suffered worse humiliation and relegation. Many others paved the way and fought for rights that you have now.

Learn the history of your fellow actors.

What can I do?

Acting is done with other people. Maybe you have asked yourself what you can do when you’re by yourself.

When I was living in the suburbs, about an hour from the Toronto Reference Library at Yonge and Bloor Streets, I came in once a week on my “Shakespeare self-study program.”

I’ve always lived having little programs and often timed them with the seasons.

John Barton had done a series of Shakespeare workshops filmed by ITV in London and then published a book entitled Playing Shakespeare. There are nine chapters and nine VHS videos.

I’d finish working as an electrician on a construction site, have dinner with my family, and then drive to the library and watch a one-hour video on acting Shakespeare with twenty-one actors from the Royal Shakespeare Company.

I liked it. It was my own program. Within my means.

Later, as an acting teacher delivering my on-camera course for the Gaiety School of Acting in Dublin, John Barton came and did a one-day workshop and I got to watch him work.

A nice circle of activity in my life.

Things you can do when not with others: watch films, observe people — go to court or the hospital — read acting books, exercise, sing, write, look into how movies are made, learn about Stratford or ACTRA, do vocal exercises, learn speeches, join actors’ playreading groups.

Do it within your means and only if you like it. Personal programs keep you active and informed.

. . . maybe those VHS cassettes are still at the Toronto Ref.

Boy to man. 

The actor in class is a nice Ontario boy, but he’s playing a character who’s a man.

There’s a difference between a boy and a man. Between a girl and a woman. As an actor, you need to know if your character is behaving like one or the other. 

Both are useful.

Ole Gunnar Solskjær, the former manager of Manchester United football club, describes a talented young player who is now playing for the first team in the Premier League by saying, “He’s playing with men now against other men.”

There has to come a time when you stand on your own two feet. When you can act typical TV situations like saying no, teaching, threatening, killing, facing the truth. And act them truthfully.

To professionalize is to mature, grow up, become adult. Both in a scene and in the business. 

It can also mean letting go of old narratives.

You can’t hold a gun in a scene and at the same time apologize for it. Cops and robbers on TV don’t apologize. Neither do lawyers or doctors.

Of course, even if you’re an old actor, you can have boy- or girl-like behaviours. Blushing, uncertain, silly. That can be charming.

But the adage still stands: never send a girl to do a woman’s job.

Big D to little d.

As an actor, you’re told what to do.

You learn that from day one. 

“Faster, slower. Louder, softer. Walk from the door to the table, pick up the gun, turn and point it towards the door.”

Directions.

And it’s the director who gives them. That’s their title and their job.

They have their job, and you have yours. Just as craft has theirs; electrics, grips, hair, and the drivers theirs. Without the drivers, we couldn’t make the film.

Part of how we’re raised is to want the Director’s approval. To know they like your work. To know they like you. It can take up a lot of your energy. This need to be validated by the Director.

It’s a normal stage you go through.

As you get more experience and your conviction grows, the D of Director will become a d for director. 

The director becomes a colleague. A fellow worker on set doing their job while you do yours.

That’s your bar lifting as you become more professional.

Yes, the director will still give directions — that’s their job. And you’ll still fulfill their directions — that’s your job.

But the case changes.

It’s in the masters.

“I don’t really have anything new to offer. I’m just playing now till I drop. I can try something new . . . but mostly I’ve resolved into a sort of habit form of playing. I play things that are familiar to me.” — Eric Clapton, Royal Albert Hall interview, 2017

It’s always interesting to hear what the experienced players have to say about their process and their journey.

The roles I play now are in me already. I can basically play an adjective, a type, and it’s real and connected as I’ve played it before. It’s mine. I don’t always need to do character work or research. I’ve played that note, I know it, and like it as an old friend. 

When you’ve done it for a lifetime, the groove is familiar. Ease and grace. In touch with the unconscious.

“All the roles I’ve done are connected. There’s a thread joining them all.” — Sam Elliott, Foundation, Screen Actors Guild.

Starting can still be difficult. Painters, actors, writers — even after a lifetime of experience — find it difficult to start. Each new script is different, the cast, director, cinematographer.

And yet familiar.

A long-time actor colleague relates it this way: 

I rely, as always, on my own flawed intelligence, instinct, and sense of human nature to provide me with a unique “take” on a role, then it’s a matter of trial and error to find an effective way to manifest that take. I worry constantly that I’m blind to something or am missing the point entirely. This is a difficult way to work . . . yet it’s the only way I know . . . but I’m no longer as afraid of failure as I once was.

From time to time, it’s useful to compare how you work to those who have done it for a lifetime. 

Talk to and look at the masters. 

The thread.

Your life as an actor is like a thread.

You make the thread, you pull the thread, you follow the thread.

You are the thread.

Thread: “a continuing element; a group of filaments twisted together formed by spinning and twisting fibers into a continuous strand” (Merriam-Webster Dictionary).

Herbert Marshall. 

Herbert Marshall was an actor who was wounded in World War I and had his right leg amputated.

According to IMDb, Marshall’s loss of his leg was “a fact not well-known to many moviegoers because it was hardly noticeable on screen, as long as he wasn’t asked to do anything too physical.”

From the 1920s to the 1960s, he was in many British and American films and played opposite such female stars as Bette Davis, Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Miriam Hopkins, Merle Oberon, and Sylvia Sidney.

As a veteran actor, he appeared in over 100 movies and television shows.

Actors have a real facility to adapt.

On IMDb, it says, “He used a very deliberate square-shouldered and guided walk, largely unnoticeable, to cover up his disability.”

Rubbing of shoulders.

The excellent acting teacher Arif Hasnain called passing on knowledge “the rubbing of shoulders.”

The phrase is sometimes used in the context of mingling with the rich, but that’s not what Arif meant. He didn’t care for the rich. 

People who know something well teach it to those who want to learn: the bricklayer, the apprentice; the political person, the new activist; the hunter, the young.

So it is with actors. The experienced actors pass on to the emerging actors. This is the way humanity develops. 

Being an acting teacher is often described as “giving back,” but there’s more to it than that. It is their duty and obligation to fulfill the right and privilege they have to be a teacher. 

It should be part of the ongoing nature of life itself as the master teaches the student. And the student has to fulfill their obligations.

The passing on of knowledge is crucial to progress. To go from incoherence to coherence, you must be guided, criticized, and assisted. You can’t do much by yourself.

It’s what Arif did.

Participate and rub shoulders.

Palate cleanser.

If you’re working and your brain jams, take a break.

Learn to stop.

And find mechanisms that can relax you quickly if you’re on set shooting. Or in acting class. Those short reset pauses.

Doing something different or opposite from what is stumping you can be useful. For example, if you’re stumbling over an accent, try doing Thai dancer finger exercises.

Like a palate cleanser. 

Google says, “The right palate cleanser can help reset your sensory perception, stimulates the appetite, or remove any lingering aftertastes.” Sounds like what you need when your scene isn’t going well.

Baseball pitchers do it pitch after pitch. They look for the sign from the catcher, and once they get it, they — palate cleanse — breathe out and pitch. Basketball players do it before every free throw; football players before a penalty kick.

Develop this habit so it suits you.

The between courses analogy could apply to acting as in-between scenes or between takes. You go, and you pause. 

The stop is key as it allows you to go again.

The next time your taste buds feel unsavoury — cleanse your palate.

Movie’s time.

As a movie actor, you are part of the art form of this time.

Now.

The movies, or all media that has moving images, are a product of the industrial revolution and now of the electronic age. 

Movies are only a bit more than a hundred years old. The Lumière brothers, Auguste and Louis, made the world’s first film, Workers Leaving the Lumière Factory, in 1895.

What does it mean for you to be an integral part of the leading art form of the day? What responsibility do you have? How do you see the moving picture at this time in this place under these conditions?

Interesting to think about it. 

Being at the forefront.

How is the form serving humanity? Who controls the form? Who puts the ideas into the form? In whose hands is it? What role can it play as art serving the needs of society?

The discussion as to what avenues lie open to you to participate in the development and role that the moving picture plays in society is an important one. 

The truth is — cinema is here. It’s a fact, and looking at things as they are is always a good place to begin the discussion.

Cinema is of the now — mobile devices, cameras, computers, the web, video — all showing the human being in motion and in colour. 

You act in front of equipment that is modernizing at such a fast rate. Your voice and body are being captured by mind-boggling methods.

That’s a first in human history.

Statues, paintings, architecture, songs, poems, and plays also replicate life but differently than the motion picture. 

As an actor, you have a front-row seat to observe and be a participant.

Fend for yourself.

It’s odd to think that you have to fend for yourself, especially when all the work you’re part of is done collectively.

This can create a disconnect and will leave you with another problem to consider.

But it’s the way society functions — people living and working socially, yet fending for themselves individually.

You have an actors’ union, an industry made up of writers, technicians, editors, and producers, and you have agents and casting directors controlling the flow of work. So much social activity around your actor’s life and yet there you’ll be . . . on your own.

It’s odd but real. 

And it’s a problem.

“I’m a good actor.”

If you are, then say it.

What does good mean? There isn’t a pure definition of a “good actor,” but some facts support the idea.

Such as you’ve trained, you’ve got an agent, you worked for three seasons at the Stratford Festival, did five roles on TV, are in the Second City company — or any combination of those.

You’re past the entry level. You’re a professional now.

Most of those 10,000 hours are in.

If you keep getting auditions and landing jobs, you’re good. Tell people you are. It isn’t boasting nor is it unartistic. It’s a fact, and you’re giving recognition to it.

Part of your progress professionalizing is raising the bar. Letting go of old narratives that no longer apply and adopting new ones that do. 

A carpenter who has worked for ten years will easily say, “Yup, I’m a good carpenter.” He’s not saying he’s the best carpenter. Neither are you. You’re simply saying, “I’m good at my job.”

Saying it makes a qualitative difference. To you and those who hear you.

It has a ring to it. 

When you first try to say it, pick an easy place to do it. You might even find it funny on your tongue saying it to yourself.

They say the first step in being an actor is to say, “I am an actor.” Some truth in that.

Same holds here. 

Say it out loud.

What is the heart. 

The heart is the storehouse of all those who are there for you when you need them . . . it is outside of us . . . more than us . . .

Authority.

In the movie business, you, as an actor, don’t have the authority.

The authority comes from the producers. “He who pays the piper calls the tune.”

How do you keep your quality, dignity, and high level of excellence? 

There are very few movie stars who can dictate what a movie is about and how it’s made. The production companies even control the movie stars.

The question of authority is very much on the agenda today. In the political sphere, who has the authority? To whom do you look to for authority? In some instances, it’s the leader of the country or a religious leader such as an imam, rabbi, or priest, or it could be your parents, even someone you idolize in entertainment, sports, science, or elsewhere, or it could be your agent or manager. 

Within the film community, where do you find authority? From the American Film Institute, Entertainment Tonight, Screen Actors Guild, Canadian Film Centre, Toronto International Film Festival, IMDb, Variety magazine, Alliance of Canadian Cinema, Television, and Radio Artists?

On movie sets, you still have authority coming from the director and through a system of authority that is still pretty much in place. The first AD has a specific authority, etc.

That’s calming. 

When on set, you know who will give you orders. There’s no chaos. Even if you know that the showrunner told the director what change they wanted, at least it’s still the director who gives you, the actor, the direction. 

That’s following norms. An example of authority in place.

The same applies in acting class. There, it’s the acting coach who has the authority. Again, this allows for a calmness as all the participants know that the proceedings will be carried out in an orderly fashion and follow professional actor training protocol. 

When the authority is clear — the works flows.

Understanding.

Understanding requires participation.

Practise first and then your brain will catch up with the idea. The idea serves the practice.

When a scene goes well, try not to remember what you did; just keep practising well. Over a period of time, you’ll have assimilations. Your new habits.

Long repetition of proper practice develops habit.

Practising well includes consciousness (the brain working well) and having the experience instead of trying to understand. 

That is key.

Within the word actor is the word act. And it’s in this act of finding out that you learn. 

You can’t understand before you’ve had the experience.

Confrontation versus discussion.

For example, the TV series Suits has a confrontational style to it, which is quintessentially American in the mode of Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders marauding through Cuba in 1898.

That style still exists from then till now.

That icon of aggression is one you need to know to act in TV and movies.

The film High Noon, written by Carl Foreman and starring Gary Cooper, has brinkmanship in its climatic scene. Propagates that killing — or war — is both moral and inevitable.

While in other TV genres, characters discuss.

There is no underlying or final threat of death inherent in that writing. The characters are thinking it through and talking it through. 

Discussing is intellectual — mental. Confrontation is physical.

Love stories, relationship shows, political dramas — the characters all think and talk through the problems. Talking heads.

There are two typical ways of dealing with a problem — confrontation or discussion. That’s reflected in the movies.

These two methods of problem-solving can also manifest themselves in the actual making of a movie. 

Recognize and celebrate. 

It’s important to recognize success and to celebrate both your work and the work of your colleagues. 

Life is made up of many beginnings, middles, and ends. At the end of a project, you should take a moment to commemorate the work you’ve done. 

Otherwise, life will become an endless race. You’ll run out of breath. Give yourself opportunities to breathe.

They talk about the rat race — there’s a colourful image you don’t want to be part of.

Recognition requires consciousness, an awareness of the work you and your fellow actors are doing. 

People in all endeavours work and produce the material goods of the society. You need to be aware of the importance of that work.

When the work is completed, you celebrate the accomplishment, but celebrate does not always mean balloons and brass bands. It can be any modest marking of the successful completion of your work.

Marking the end of a project allows you to begin the next one.

For instance, if you say to yourself after an audition “Job done,” then that is recognition enough.

Those that run the movie industry have everything at their disposal to celebrate in their way, and the Oscars are a good example of this. 

If you are a normal working actor, seeing the Oscars can cause you confusion as to how you should celebrate. You certainly can’t match the Oscars in size and scope. Yet you work in the movies and the Oscars are about the movies. 

Consider how you can recognize and celebrate your work and success.

Permission.

In acting class, the other day, students said that they were glad to have permission to cry, swear, shout, or insult.

I’m not so sure about permission. When it comes to acting.

Is willingness the opposite of permission?

All actors must be willing. Willing to try what the director or coach suggests.

The permission to try should be a given — on day one. The day you say you’re an actor.

What does it mean to be professional? Part of the meaning is that permission is already and always given. 

Is there a veil of reluctance in the society today? A veil that the young actor feels can only be lifted by the authority. The authority giving permission to lift it.

Authority exists but not to give or take away the actor’s work. The authority may alter the work, direct it, stop it, start it, but no permission is ever required to do it.

Authority can create harmonious conditions where the actor feels relaxed and better able to do it.

The same holds true on the business side. The agent-actor relationship requires no permission. It requires each party fulfilling their side of the agreement.

Being professional.

When you are in the actors’ union and you sign a contract to play a role, you have an obligation and a duty. As well as rights and privileges. They must be fulfilled — no permission needed.

The popular phrase of giving oneself permission is an interesting one.

Overwhelmed. 

It’s easy to get overwhelmed. 

As the world gets more and more chaotic, so does the movie industry. More competitive, faster, lower pay, harsher, and tougher.

You have goals and want to improve, dream in colour, work hard, push yourself to the limit, and test your brain. 

But do check yourself and see when you’re over the edge and overwhelmed.

Auditions are given out late in the day and could be due the next morning. You have to respond to your agent immediately to confirm your audition. The sides can’t be printed or a screenshot taken because of confidentiality. You have to sign an NDA. You’re working at a job that ends at 2:00 a.m.

Wow. All that’s overwhelming.

The hysteria of a film festival, the launch of a new series, a red-carpet interview can all be overwhelming. 

So can not booking work for a long time. 

Part of your actor’s life is finding time and space where you can work at your maximum under conditions that are minimal. Watch carefully how and where you best respond to being creative. The skill is to keep the beauty you’re capable of and to tap into it under pressure.

See when you can leave things that are too much for you and get back to them when you can. 

Being professional means working and living at your own pace — within today’s conditions.

Time.

Is a question you’ve considered often and will continue to do so.

Pick up the pace. Pick up your cues. Speak quicker. Feel the rhythm of the scene. Take a beat. 

A pause.

Shooting a commercial, you’re under strict time guidelines. You might be asked to do a reaction in 4.5 seconds, and continuity will be timing you with a stopwatch. Acting in precise time to the millisecond.

Audition time. Call time. Time you’re wrapped.

One of the many actor’s questions you ask. The time of day, the time the story is set in, how old is your character, how much time does the story cover, time between scenes.

Time between lines. Speed of your character’s mind. Other characters’ minds. Time passing in the story. Pace of the film.

The time when you start after action is called. Time after cut. 

“That actor’s got good timing.”

Literal time. Figurative time. 

And Shakespeare writes these four different lines: 

Let every man be master of his time.

Nothing ’gainst Time’s scythe can make defence.

We are Time’s subject, and Time bids be gone.

The time is out of joint: O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right. 

There are hundreds of expressions using time. Here’s a few: A race against time. Time is precious, but truth is more precious than time. A stitch in time. Time and tide wait for no man. In the nick of time. Time brings all things to pass. Time is money. Everything in its own time. It’s high time. Third time’s a charm.

Time might answer many questions.

Opposites.

As an actor, you need skin as thin as glass in front of the camera and the opposite in the movie business where it has to be thick as steel. 

Finding an opposite can help you see what the thing is and what it isn’t.

Asking questions allows an answer, which in turn allows the opposite answer.

Opposites can unearth your imagination.

When writers ask the question “What if?” they’re looking to provoke the opposite. 

Raising the opposite can be useful at the beginning of your work when assumptions might be made that haven’t been given enough consideration.

What is the opposite challenges you to defend your position.

Story is filled with opposites. As is life. Young and old; birth and death; love and hate; good and evil; rich and poor; female and male; language, nationality, religion, etc.

When we say drama has conflict — opposition is inherent in the conflict.

Aristotle, in his Poetics, defines peripeteia as “a change by which the action veers round to its opposite, subject always to our rule of probability or necessity.”

Discussion.

What is discussion?

It’s what human beings do to both make things and develop thinking. 

There are two basic kinds of discussion. One: to make a plan to do something. Two: to move the thinking forward on a particular question.

One is practical, and the other is ideological.

The first kind of discussion should produce a plan for action. For instance, if you need to build a fence, then the discussion will focus on finding solutions for the particular problems that arise while building that fence. These discussions have concrete goals. 

These are the discussions you have with directors while trying to solve problems that arise while shooting a scene. Those discussions have an immediate aim, and that is to solve the problem in front of you so you can shoot the scene.

The other form of discussion doesn’t lead to a concrete plan but rather develops thinking on questions. When you discuss acting questions with your peers or acting coach, that is the discussion of ideas. Even if there is a particular topic being discussed, the aim isn’t necessarily to come up with the answer.

What you do come up with is more light having been shed on the idea in question. These discussions of ideas carry on the age-old human tradition of sharing and developing thinking. 

If you begin a discussion and your mind is confused, the resulting discussion often clears the confusion and creates order in your mind. You feel better afterwards. 

In both instances of discussion, there is no argument. 

Arguing and discussing are different. In a discussion, no one is trying to win, because there is no competition. The subject under discussion takes precedence over the individual’s narrow or petty aim. 

A director barking at you from video village is not a discussion. You complaining in the actors’ bar isn’t discussion. A casting director telling you to do it faster isn’t discussion. You demanding something self-serving isn’t discussion.

When you discuss with others using your mind and the gift of language, you will always give rise to something of note — something new.

The best actors all know how to discuss. 

The practice of proper discussion — whether solving a problem or developing an idea — will help your mind develop and serve you to be a better actor.

Consciousness.

Let’s begin with Stanislavski’s idea of unconscious creativity through conscious technique.

To have this brief entry on consciousness is to potentially underestimate the importance of the idea. 

The point is to highlight consciousness and what it means to you. Stanislavski’s quote raises two aspects to it.

The practical and objective work in analyzing scripts and preparing your work — the conscious technique. That conscious work comes as a result of your training on how to analyze text, prepare a role, identify genres, recognize TV icons, and know what the producers need. 

You can follow any one of a number of methods of work to fulfill this part of your conscious technique work.

Your training and practice of these approaches are what make it conscious. It goes in your mind. You’ve assimilated the techniques. And when those assimilations are made, they lead to the freeing of the unconscious creativity. 

“You do your preparation and then forget about it.” But it’s never actually forgotten as it is in you.

The successful football coach Louis van Gaal talks about process as starting at the bottom then going to the unconscious and incapable and then to the conscious and capable and finally the unconscious and capable. 

Stanislavsky’s quote put paid the argument — technical actors versus natural actors — he did so by linking the two.

Cutting through the veil.

The veil is what you need to cut through to move forward.

It could represent anything.

It’s that elusive and real step that you can’t yet take. To say no to a certain direction, to go deep to find an emotion, to feel like a participant, to celebrate your work.

A veil is something that stops you from learning the truth about a situation. That stops you from seeing what something is.

The ideas in the veil can come from those who control the movie industry. “The producers don’t have any money — they can only pay you scale.” “Of course, the Hollywood actors will be paid three times what you get paid.”

The veil is made up of the ideas you’ve been taught and learned.

Say you had a problem and felt humiliated and afterwards tell your colleague about it, saying how you wanted to speak up but didn’t know how. It was the veil that held you back.

The veil can be cut.

Through experience and proper practice, you can learn how to cut through the veil in your acting, your business side, and your life as an actor.

Cutting it once sharpens your knife to cut it again.

In 1903, W. E. B. Du Bois, in his revolutionary book The Souls of Black Folk, writes about the moment he knew what it meant to be Black in America.

I remember well when the shadow swept across me. I was a little thing, away up in the hills of New England . . . In a wee wooden schoolhouse, something put it into the boys’ and girls’ heads to buy gorgeous visiting-cards — ten cents a package — and exchange. The exchange was merry, till one girl, a tall newcomer, refused my card — refused it peremptorily, with a glance. Then it dawned on me with a certain suddenness that I was different from the others . . . shut out from their world by a vast veil.

Learn about your veils and how to cut through them.

The list.

The facts of your acting life make up the list.

When you feel down, learn to refer to it.

What could be on the list? 

Well, you exercise, try to eat well; you have an agent; you audition; you act in plays, movies, TV series, shorts, webisodes, summer theatre; you take acting class; you’ve gone to theatre school; and you’re known and respected. You pay your rent, taxes, and phone bill.

That’s a list.

The list of points that make up your acting life is what your acting life is. As opposed to how you feel it is.

The list allows you to juxtapose the objective reality to your subjective view. What’s in your head versus what’s in the world. It balances the scales.

You might feel down and justifiably so from being humiliated as an actor, missing out on a role, struggling to make ends meet, and more, but the list still remains.

You have a right to your feelings, and you should never apologize for them. But observe yourself when you can’t seem to get past them.

The list buttresses you from being overwhelmed by your feelings and can help to keep you going. You’re not trying to boost your confidence with false ideas — you’re citing what’s true. 

The list.

The list should also include the film and TV industry as it is. The power of the studio owners, producers, casting directors, and agents, and the difficulty you have in participating in the decision-making. The listing of these objective factors will help deflate the idea that you individually are the cause of the difficulties.

When you think about something — your acting career, for example — objective reality must be part of that thinking.

So, next time your fellow actor asks you “How’s it going?” you can say “Fine.” Because, according to the list — it is.

Check your list.

Life.

Far from putting our lives on hold and hoping the old will return in due course, we must live our lives to the fullest under all conditions and circumstances. Life is the object of our living and what we achieve by it. It is ours for the taking.

The future.

Human beings always look to the future.

On a practical note, you have the future to consider every time you play a scene or go to an audition. Part of your preparation will be seeing yourself at the end of the work. How will the audition go? How will the scene go? How will you feel afterwards? What do you see?

That’s looking into the future. 

Visualizing is key, but you must do it sharply so you don’t slide over, avoid, or deny what you see. 

Try to learn to look at things as they are. 

Seeing yourself going forward obviously includes the state of the industry at this time. Your future takes place from where the industry is today and from where it was in the past — all affecting your future.

As well as the external influences, your individual outlook will affect what you see. 

Having aspirations is vital for all humans. What gives rise to your aspirations? Old ideas like “follow your dreams” and “you can do whatever you want” could be confusing. 

Find the parables, mantras, truths, watchwords, and guidelines that help you see the future in clearer and more doable terms — for you.

You want success and a bright future. 

Try to base what can be in practical terms because “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”