“I don’t think you ever stop learning to act” – Jimmy Stewart

This is especially true when you realize that for every project, there is a different process that needs to happen in order to meet the needs of the director, the story line, and the actor’s own necessarily new technique born of having grown and changed herself or himself.

I just finished watching the 1987 show, hosted by Johnny Carson, about Jimmy’s life. It’s a tremendously revealing and moving show, being about a performer who lived a balanced life of work and family, creativity and service – a life based in a kind of integrity that was rare then, and is even rarer now, in my opinion.

Johnny said to him, “You make it look easy. Is acting easy for you?” And Jimmy said, “No. I don’t think you ever stop learning to act.”

I love that. It’s kind of a koan of meaning, that sentence, because acting is about not acting. In fact, a man I hold in highest regard – Harold Guskin, actor, director, acting coach extraordinaire, drily humorous and laser-like servant of the craft of acting rather than the well-behaved servant of the business of acting – wrote a seminal work called “How to Stop Acting” that is an unparalleled insight into that lightning-in-a-bottle experience of being in the creative moment as an actor – that moment in which we are being lived by that pure creativity that is far more long-lastingly addictive than any drug.

In other words, as I’ve probably said before, acting is not about pretending – it is about living out loud. And none knows that better – nor teaches it and lives it more relentlessly than Harold Guskin. Acting is not something you do, it is something you come to understand enough about to allow it to do you, and it is a high privilege to be a part of it, particularly when you are in a project in which your process is permitted to live and breathe and develop, and is supported in that birthing process.

Some things that happen with actors are simply magic. I don’t know how on earth Johnny Depp came up with his swaggering Captain Jack Sparrow, but it’s magic! Keira Knightley said in a video interview that she was totally unprepared for what he brought to the role – that when she hit the set and was confronted with that characterization for the first time, without warning, it was a genuine shock. That’s the kind of ownership of interpretation, the kind of devil-take-the-hindmost surrender to the high-dive risking of self-expression that is the epitome of great acting. And lest you wish to argue with me about whether Mr. Depp is a “great” actor or not, let me make something clear: acting is about living out loud, living emotionally turned inside out, about reaching for something or some character aspect that is like flying into the Grand Canyon without a net, willingly! That is greatness, and that is why, as George Clooney said on his appearance on Inside the Actor’s Studio, that we “celebrate celebrities”, once they reach that state because they do what ordinary people spend their time trying not to do, and would never do! And that is: Express oneself as fully as possible, as foolishly or passionately, as lovingly or hatefully, with as much abandon, surrender, and (ironically and confusingly) mastery as possible, publicly!

And just to make it even more interesting, some of what has come to be well-known moments in film, or characterizations in film, came about from nothing at all related to actor techniques.

Jimmy Stewart and his stuttering line delivery are an inseparable duo. But the truth, he says, is that the stuttering was not what he set out to do; that what his delivery was revealing, actually, was that he was thinking about what the next line was!  He had some difficulty in learning lines, it turns out, and I can really relate to this because for me that is the greatest “work-like” aspect of this process. Whether it’s a song or a script. But of the two, as far as I’m concerned, scripts are easier because they have a preexisting setting, and most often a back and forth with another character, which songs do not usually offer.

And then there is Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man in the famous bath scene where he has a panic attack as the bath is being drawn. He has been lauded for that scene. And yet, he revealed in his appearance on Inside the Actor’s Studio that the take that ended up in the movie actually was not a character-focused choice, but was him “just” pitching a fit because he couldn’t “get” that moment the way he wanted to.  Host James Lipton listened to this with his customary  respectful disbelief, looked to his students in the audience, and said, ” ‘Just’. Right.”

Acting is lightning in a bottle. It’s risking showing up, and allowing one’s self to show.

And the reason that one is never done learning how to act is because one, one’s own self, is the process, and we human beings are always in flux, ever changing. We are the lightning in a bottle, we human beings. As actors, we simply celebrate that incredible, miraculous truth of human existence, and we do so publicly, with our own bodies, our own emotions, our very beings.  And what it is that makes that such a necessity for every actor, that’s a passion deeper than I can put words to. And that is why Jimmy Stewart’s words hold incredible weight for me.

Thank you, Jimmy.

The Director and The Actor – Heaven or Hell?

What is it that makes a great working relationship between a director and an actor?

You could say it depends on who each of them is, personally and professionally, and you wouldn’t be wrong. But what I’m interested in is what makes a basic great relationship in that respect, and since I get to write this thing, I’m going to give you my point of view, from over 20 years of working with all kinds of people.

For me, as an actor, the work of putting together a character that is flesh-and-blood real, that has complexity and dimension, that is unpredictable as people are unpredictable, is an undertaking that is both broad and specific in its demands. And the demands are wonderful. For my money, it is its own kind of bliss to become acquainted with the character I am to play. I get to look at so many things about this “person”: their psychology, where they come from (financially, family-wise, culturally), their tendencies in terms of expectations, beliefs, general mood and outlook; how they might look, move, react. In looking at a personality in this fashion, one becomes a detective and a therapist and the compassion quotient rises. You begin to understand not just that character, but yourself and other people much better. It’s a trip, and it’s one that I love deeply.

But in building the character there is more than the character to consider. There is the story that surrounds the character. When I look at the character arc – the character’s journey from being one kind of person, or reacting in a certain kind of way, at the beginning of the play or movie, to being a different kind of person, or reacting in new kinds of ways at the end! - it is critical for the character arc to make sense. But that arc itself is in service to the arc of the entire work, the entire story as a whole, and not to the arc of the character only, as if that character lived in a bubble without being affected by the other characters and situations of the story.

The better the actor, the more this is understood. And the better the actor, the less of a diva experience on set or backstage, because that actor knows that every single person involved in that project is in service to the art, not to his or her own ego.

So the actor from heaven knows:

(1) How to build a character that is compelling and that grows as an organic thing within the story as an intrinsic part of that story.

(2) How to communicate her/his needs to the director in terms of his or her process, or in terms of needing to understand his or her character’s place in a given scene or in the story as a whole, if that is not clear.

(3) How to step back and be comfortable with simply having fun doing what one does best: acting! Sometimes one can not get an answer from the director that helps. It is useless to let this frustrate you, though it will – big time! It is best instead to just make your choices and keep on going! If it is a film, it is the editor, anyway, that will have the final say about what you do and how it looks on film, so your fate is not your own in any case…unless you’re Brad Pitt or Julia Roberts and can have a final say about final edits. At least, I assume that they can!

The actor from hell is a diva, is not nearly as talented as they think they are, and not-so-secretly wants to be the director – so makes inappropriate suggestions about considerations that are only in the bailiwick of the director.

So, what about the director? The director that is the director from heaven is the one that understands two very, very important things: (1) What the vision/focus of the project is; and (2) How the actor works, and how to support them in their work.

(1) The vision/focus of the project. If a director has only a vague idea of what s/he is trying to say, the actor is in the dark. It’s like swimming in a pool with no “other side” to kick off from. There has to be a very clear and compelling message, and there has to be a clear and compelling reason for each character’s appearance in the story. That’s up to the director to ensure.

(2) How the actor works, and how to support them in their work. The actor is not a machine with buttons for “Cry/Don’t Cry”, “Fear/Love” and so forth somewhere in their bodies that can be pushed at will at any moment, but that fact might surprise a great many people. Actors, and how they do what they do, are still a most mysterious quantity in the world; the “normie” (actress Rose McGowan’s term for someone who has chosen to have a “normal” life rather than an artistic one) spends life trying to keep things in order, keeping untidy emotions organized and rather hidden. The actor goes in completely the other direction, and that is why we love to watch them – it’s a visual catharsis for our senses. But that doesn’t mean we understand the individuals who voluntarily choose to stripe themselves emotionally naked in public! Well, it behooves the director to figure this out – to learn how to communicate with actors as a general rule, and to learn how to adjust for the literally unlimited types of actors that need all kinds of different modes in which to work! It’s not a small thing to learn, but if the director makes the effort, the results are what a Scorcese comes up with, or a Robert Redford, or a Steven Spielberg. Yeah, it’s well worth the effort.

Without these two things in place, the whole project goes to hell in a handbasket…. Without communication, without the director bringing an openness and a sense of learning to each and every project, the actor can easily get hamstrung and have to either bring their B-Game to the table, in order to get through the ordeal, or simply make choices that the director doesn’t like, but can’t figure out how to effectively communicate.

The director and the actor – a relationship in heaven or in hell? Depends – is everyone communicating and learning and co-creating something brand new out of the building blocks of mutual creativity? (Heaven!) Or is each party just doing their own thing and hoping that it magically works out, somehow, in the end? (Hell…)

It’s your choice, and mine, and that guy’s, and hers, and theirs…every single time we start something new. I choose Heaven. As often as I possibly can.

The Actor’s Mini-Heaven

I attended a movie audition today. It’s always a good day when you can audition for something that you truly are interested in.

I am interested in this movie because the script is great – the few pages that I have seen, I mean; they only give you a few pages to look at for auditioning (“sides”, they call those pages, for those of you who are uninitiated to the process). But the thing is, with just a few pages, I get the character; I get the flavors of who this woman is and I get to make some strong character choices. That’s a great script. That’s a thrill to read in audition. And the director told me that my reading was “great”, and seemed to mean it. Of course, this doesn’t assure anyone a part, but it never hurts to be told that you rock. I’ll take it!

Tomorrow I audition for a print ad. I have yet to land a print ad of any kind. I’ve done on-air commercials, but no print. Maybe this will be the break-through.

And tomorrow night I do a jazz singing gig in the nearby town of Livermore at a wine bar called The Double Barrel.

This is a good week. Pretty heavenly, really, which to a non-actor sounds just totally ludicrous, I’m thinkin’.

Gotta go – got to find a beautiful jar I can use for people to put their tips into tomorrow night. The auditions don’t pay, but the singing does, and the tips help.

Living the nutty process…

Lori

George Clooney and the Truth About Acting

I just watched George on the TV show, Inside the Actor’s Studio, and he’s just, simply, fabulous.

I don’t know – I’m almost speechless. Did you know he comes from the same city I do? Cincinnati, Ohio. Yep! We’re neighbors!

Well, we were, in some sense or other, I suppose. And I hereby claim that I will be working with George on a set.

I even know the name of the screenplay – no, I’m not sharing it – which, apparently, I will have to write, even though I don’t know what it will be about, although I do know what the relationship between us will be, and no, it’s not a romantic one. (“Fool!” I hear you screaming. You’re too right. Maybe I should rethink this relationship business.)

Anyway, the truth about acting. As usual, in my experience, the truth about acting is the same about the truth about life, and he said it beautifully (of course; shouldn’t it be against the law to be so amazing? Nah…we’ll take him fabulous.). He said that in order to do your best acting, you have to be at ease. He was asked by a student if it were true that he is a massive practical joker on set, and he said it is true because you gotta have some fun! You gotta relax. I will paraphrase here. He said, “You know how it is in class, when you suck? You try and try and try and you just stink up the place. It’s awful. Then, the minute you just give up, you do it perfectly. It’s great. It’s because you just let go.”

That’s why so many of us keep up this business of acting even when we go months or even years between really relevant acting gigs: it’s that letting go. It’s a feeling like riding a wave, except that the wave is inside of you and is you, all at the same time. It’s a joy that drives you even if the scene has you weeping in grief – a double-feeling experience that can’t be beat!

That’s the truth of acting: we live – we act – to let go.

Ahhhhhh…..