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Goals Part 2:
“Man makes plans and God laughs.” Perhaps we’re better off going with the flow. Perhaps we only fool ourselves into thinking that we’re really doing anything else. The unfortunate aspect of a goal is the notion of unintended consequences. Those are the little surprises we get while paving the road with good intentions. And we all know where that leads. The other thing we sometimes encounter on the yellow brick road is the loss of dreams. I discussed this with my friend during that same visit noted last week. As long as we don’t set any real goals, we can always have the dream but if we try and fail, we may lose the dream and ourselves. Dreams are safe. Dreams are ever-present. Goals are hard and fast. They require work and sometimes a little luck to stay on track And just when you think you’re approaching the target, it frequently moves. Why? Because you are moving. You are like the river spoken about by Heraclitis. “No man steps in the same river twice.” The “you” at the beginning of your goal is not the “you” who approaches your goal. You are older, hopefully wiser and unquestionably different. As you arrive, you find that what seemed suitable in the wonders of your dream is now ill-fitting in the realities of your goal. You shape the realities in your dream. Your goal shapes the realities in you. Before you set out on the journey, make sure you are willing to sacrifice the dream and in some cases, a little bit of yourself.
Goals Part 1:
Back from my sabbatical, which has been anything but a break. First there was the Olympics, which of the two, winter is my favorite. Then there was an onslaught of shooting and editing, from which I now have thankfully caught up. Some economies are still rolling. Finally my teaching and grading demands are somewhat of a constant and at least dependable. All that said, I am back at the wheel and driving this bus. That after all is why you are here.
A few weeks ago, I had lunch with a friend and we spoke about life and what the future held in store. For many of us, it is a total surprise. That’s usually because like the sphere in a pinball machine, we rise and fall, bounce and rebound, shoot and spin at the pleasure and forces of those things outside of our control. There is actually some comfort in that fact for many of us, because we can blame our errors and misfortunes on the “slings and arrows” of others. We can avoid the ugly truth, that what we experience or don’t, may lie at our own feet. Our hands alone may bear the blood of our deeds. Too much Shakespeare? Life is not the result of the pinball wizard, but rather the choices we make. And I hate to say this, but even the seemingly non-choice is a choice.
The question ultimately comes down to goals. I’m not talking about hopes and dreams; I’m speaking of definitive plans—paths and timetables.
At the end of every Working Actor 1 class, we would ask our students where they wanted to be in one year. Some take it seriously; some slightly. In most cases the deliberate plan is never put into motion. How do I know that? I pull out those sheets every now and then, check the years that have past and know where that actor is. Is that fair? Things change; life gets in the way; people fail. It would probably be safe to say that everyone fails at some point. Some offer a continuum of failure. We just always know that successful people don’t stop.
You’ll always hear about people who strike it rich almost immediately. Those stories keep us playing the lottery despite the astronomical odds. The bells keep us putting change in the slot machines long after we recognize the unrandomness of randomizing algorithms.
Odds are long in a great many fields and yet some people succeed. Some people have a practical goal that never fades despite the setbacks and failures.
Want to succeed? Exchange your hopes and dreams for goals. We have students who succeed and we can follow their paths, because they left behind a viable plan. It will not be everyone’s plan. In fact, some people can’t or won’t walk the path once they see the sacrifice their goal may entail. Ultimately, you’ll decide what’s important. If it’s truly important, you’ll set the goal and walk the path less traveled. Many of us will find those two roads in the woods that Frost wrote about, but we will take the one most traveled, because for us, what’s really important is what’s easy.
I’m sure like many of you, I got more exercise than I cared to this week. Despite enjoying winter and a good snow every now and then, I’ve had enough. Even though I am prepared for the complete collapse of society (at least for 3 or 4 days), I am ready to return to something resembling a pleasant and accessible routine. But shoveling all of that snow reminded me of the importance of a healthy body and mind. This could be said for any of us, but if you are a freelance actor, you want and need to be ready at the drop of a hat. That means staying healthy both physically and mentally. I’ll assume that you engage in the former effort with exercise, moderation and a healthy diet. However one thing we need to spend some time on is promoting a healthy brain. Not only do you need to be able to handle the scope of a role, you need to convince the casting director and director that you are capable of handling the role. Those are two distinct objectives and the one does not necessarily follow the other. I have seen hundreds of auditions and I can say some actors have failed in the latter. I’ve been reading a book titled Magnificent Mind at Any Age (the latter part of that title is of particular import to me). I would recommend any investigation and investment into your brain’s health. There are behaviors within your control that will profit you personally and professionally. Take care of your body and your brain, so the next time you audition you not only sell the role, you also sell the actor. Back to shoveling…
Marketing for your acting career is kind of like a Tastykake, more specifically a Tastykake Lemon Pie. I’m already feeling like Andy Rooney. I have enjoyed Tastykake cake and pies for decades. I can even sing the jingle (which would give you two pieces of information). For those of you outside of our listening area, you have my deep condolences for missing this culinary treat. Okay, culinary may be a bit of a stretch, but they are a wonderful snack nevertheless. The only downside is they used to be made with lard, which everyone older than dirt knows makes baked goods wonderfully flaky. As noted above, I have especially enjoyed their lemon pie. This pie is lightly baked with just enough tartness because every now and then, I enjoy a little tart. Their pie packaging was original and utilitarian. Here’s where it applies to your marketing choices. These pies were and still are contained by a stiff but lightweight cardboard structure to prevent damage to the pie. Previously you could open one end, hold the container and let the pie slide out for one delicious bite after the other, all the while keeping the remaining pie from touching any contaminant—like your hands. The only rub was every now and then the pie would get stuck (I think it knows when I’m in the car). You could shake and shake and shake it and it wouldn’t budge. You could tear the top cellophane back a little and let it breathe and it wouldn’t budge. You could open the other end and “encourage it” and it still wouldn’t budge. Finely there would be no other choice than to touch it. Hands touching my pie! Even my hands could ruin the ultimate delight of a pure and pristine Tastykake Lemon Pie (insert preferred expletive here). So at this point, I made the mistake of wishing they would reinvent something that was actually quite satisfactory, simple and practical. And so they did. They put the pie in a foil pan. Now you have to remove the pie from the outside container. If you try to eat the pie as before, you are thwarted by the foil pan. I know; I’ve tried. Yes, my face was in the pie and it wasn’t pretty. So now you must do the unthinkable and touch the pie with your hands or find a fork, which I don’t keep in the car. I now deeply regret ever thinking that the package needed improving. It worked! There might have been an occasional snag, but it was fine the way it was originally designed, though I’m sure others probably wrote Tastykake and explained how they could make it better. There are always those helpful people out there making things better or do I mean different. Young people will never know what worked. They will simply grow up with the new packaging and never understand, sometimes the old ways are the best ways (I didn’t believe my father either). Sometimes the change we need is in ourselves. What, you may ask, does this have to do with marketing? Throughout my career some things changed because people wanted something different. Headshot styles, photo borders, résumé formats, etc. all changed, not because they really made things better or more efficient, but because they just made things different. Sometimes there is even the illusion of improvement. And if you want to work, you’ll jump on that bandwagon and applaud the magician. But years from now, you’ll look back over everything you’ve done and been told to do to advance your career and you’ll probably laugh at some of it and realize that many of the changes were like Hollywood itself, just an illusion. There’s no illusion about this however, I have a Tastykake Lemon Pie waiting. Now I just have to find a darn fork.
Enjoy the snow!
I mentioned in a previous post that John Spencer asked if I ever changed dialogue. In some circles, I’m notorious but always with permission and always in agreement that the change works better. Some collaboration is more collaborative than others. The size of the project and the money spent are not always indicators that writing soars. Sometimes it just floats, if you get my drift. Many times it will simply be your job as an actor to make the silk purse, but occasionally you’ll be asked to participate in replacing that sow’s ear. For in the head is dead and some things are better read than said. When writers hear their words performed, they will hopefully notice where the rhythms sing and where they simply clunk. If you’ve made a serious connection with the role, you may be engaged to offer some help. Don’t worry, the writer will still get the credit. I think Jason Reitman has done an extraordinary job with dialogue in Up in the Air. As I mentioned in my quick movie review, I think he got the ending wrong, but that doesn’t diminish the regard I have for his pure writing talent. As an actor, you need to listen how the words string together. What are the rhythms of the speech? How does word choice impact the meaning? Language is subjective. You need to move past saying the words and think about what the character actually means. Let’s examine a currently running commercial. Bud Light has a series of spots playing on the theme of Too Light – Too Heavy. The ideas work and they’re mostly amusing. I particular enjoy the milquetoast character entering the backyard with a too light, “Hey everybody.” Of course no one notices because the entrance is “too light.” Next he crushes the backyard fence with a monster truck sporting a huge paper-mâché cab of his head. With fireworks shooting from the sides a long tongue unrolls and he appears screaming from the mouth. This is obviously the “too heavy” entrance; however I’m wondering where I can borrow a monster truck. Anyway, we wind up with a medium shot of him with a subtle delivery saying, “I brought potato salad.” The contrast in temperament is meant to be funny. It’s a good choice except the line is too long. That sentence has seven syllables. This line is a punctuation mark and needs to be faster. Not delivered faster, the pace is correct. It just needs a quicker finish so that we (the audience) have a second to react to the actor’s face and his change in demeanor. The line as written delays that opportunity. We’re practically into the next commercial. Given the backyard barbeque flavor of the setting, the food product simply needs to be appropriate but shorter. A more effective line would be, “I brought cole slaw” (four syllables) or even just, “Brought cole slaw” (three syllables). It’s in his hands; we know he brought it. Budweiser obviously spent a lot of money on the commercial and though the ending works in design, it could be better executed with a simple change in food product. Strive to understand the rhythms of speech, the timing of lines and the needs of the audience. Some day you may find yourself an uncredited writer, but the difference in lines may shine in your performance and the effectiveness of the project. And for that, you can take credit.
Beware of absolutes! Throughout my career and especially at the beginning, I heard a lot of “never do _________.” You can fill in the blank; I’m sure you’ve heard some. One thing I heard repeatedly was never submit an 8x10 composite at an acting audition. There is a logic to that admonition because there is a clear distinction between a model and an actor. That’s not to say a model can’t act or an actor can’t model, but the skill sets are different. I’ve done both. As a very young man, I actually even walked a local runway. I know that’s hard to believe now, especially if you’ve ever seen some of my outrageous character ads. Unfortunately I never received any photos and the company is long since out of business. Ah, but the memories. Still, I’m aware of the differences. The problem is if the client or director is aware of the differences, which they likely are, an 8x10 composite will flag you as a model rather than an actor and that will give rise to caution. On at least a couple of occasions, I’ve been hired for print work specifically because I was (am) an actor. And contrary to conventional wisdom, I have successfully used an 8x10 composite in an acting audition. I’ll explain how. Typically an 8x10 composite has 4 or 5 images from print jobs that you’ve done. When starting out, you won’t have any samples so you’ll likely attempt to create something. Invest some time and money into producing something effective. It will make a difference. Some composites I’ve seen simply have four shots of the talent in different costumes with the same expression. Some shots will have different wardrobe and different expressions, but the background and lighting is the same. The message that this conveys is either you are just starting out, you aren’t working or you essentially have one expression. None of these are compelling underlying messages. A good composite will have four images with four different stories. They won’t just display different poses; the images will engage you with meaning. If you don’t have samples, find examples of ads that would be appropriate for your age and gender. Create something similar and place yourself significantly in that story. Look like you’ve worked because in effect, you are demonstrating that you can do the job. Now as to some judicious usage, I won’t automatically submit the composite. On occasion after reading the material and auditioning (that is demonstrating I can do the job), I may note that a particular image/story on my composite is appropriate to the role/story for which I’m auditioning. If that is the case, I may offer the composite in addition to my headshot. I remember once a client looking at my composite and pointing to one of the images said, “Oh, this is the guy we want. Can you do that?” I reminded them that was me, so I assured them that wouldn’t be a problem. My advice would be, have an effective composite and use it with some discernment rather than as a wholesale submission. Follow that same advice when you are submitting images ahead of time via email. The client or director may not as yet have seen you act. For projects that I’ve been casting, I’ve had actors submit images which by their very nature have effectively taken them out of consideration. More does not automatically improve your chances. Submit judiciously and only submit effective work that represents your talent, not just your look. Typically, I’ll request that you only submit one shot that is a reasonable size for emailing. If you send more than one, it will tell me that you can’t take direction. Therefore make sure that you always read and follow instructions. Always double-check yourself and learn how to format your images. That likely won’t be the last time I say that. For me, taking direction is an absolute. So beware!
Since my family was together for Christmas, we decided to take a photo together on the hearth at my son’s home. There were eight of us—nine if you count Buddy, my son’s Blue Collie. I was seated down in front so that I could get up between each shot and hit the timer on the camera. I really need to get a remote. Anyway Buddy seemed to misunderstand who was in the middle as he jumped in my spot every time I got up. After some treat distraction, I was able to jump and run without impediment (sorry Buddy). After we finished our series, we checked the images and to everyone’s amazement I had hit the same mark, pose and expression in every shot (except for the purposefully goofy ones). I think I’ve had a little practice on this side of the camera and as such know what I’m doing. I point this out to identify the skill of repeatability. Whenever we see a modeling session depicted on TV or film, the process always includes a change of pose between each exposure. That can be a desired effect; however it’s also important to be able to stay in the moment and hit the same mark, pose and expression. Why? Because once you’ve determined the workable elements you want to be able to still have choices. The truth is there will be subtle differences and those variations will make the difference between an effective shot and a highly effective shot. Over the years of shooting headshots, I’ve learned to identify the effective expressions and their subtle distinctions. At first glance on the contact sheet, subjects may think they have duplicates until they start to look closely. First you need to learn is how to smile—it starts with the eyes and works down. If your first thought is your mouth, you’re doing it wrong. The second thing is you need to be conscious of the muscles in your face. Identify expressions—use the mirror for your most immediate evaluation (of course remember you’re backward). Feel the expression—know where the muscles are tense and relaxed. Repeat the expression—commit it to muscle memory by way of practice. In other words, make a choice and be able to repeat it. As an actor, that’s a skill you must apply in all of your work. Back to the family photo, so after the laughing subsided, we realized that regardless of which image we chose, somebody’s head was going to have to be Photoshopped—except of course mine and Buddy’s. He too always hits his mark.
A period is a good thing; so is a comma, a semicolon and an exclamation mark! In Lynne Truss’ grammar book Eats Shoots and Leaves:The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation, she quotes a writer who, ”tells us that punctuation marks are the traffic signals of language: They tell us to slow down, notice this, take a detour, and stop. Punctuation is critical to our proper understanding. She offers, “Instead of ‘What would you with the king?’ you can have someone say in Marlowe’s Edward II, ‘What? Would you? With the king?’” All of this to say: pay attention to the punctuation. It is there for a reason. It communicates meaning. Too often, I’ll see students completely disregard the writer’s choices. Now as my students know, I’m not one who is overly obliged to be locked in by such choices; however I would most assuredly suggest that unless you have an overwhelmingly successful alternative, you begin with what’s on the page. If you don’t understand the meaning of punctuation, then ask! The three dots […] ellipsis is often a source of confusion, which typically results in the actor simply ignoring it. If you want to act, you must become a student of communication. You must accept responsibility for learning. Own it (exclamation mark)!
Holiday Bonus Tip:
For Christmas, I received a copy of Robert Vaughn’s memoir A Fortunate Life, now available in paperback. Vaughn was one of my favorite childhood TV actors for his role as Napoleon Solo in NBC’s The Man from U.N.C.L.E. It was television’s first answer for filmdom’s James Bond. In fact, Bond creator Ian Fleming offered some initial input for the development of the series. Vaughn is also known as one of the original Magnificent Seven and currently works in the BBC series Hustle. His costar from U.N.C.L.E. was David McCallum, now playing forensic scientist Ducky in N.C.I.S. There had been talk in recent years that Quentin Tarantino was interested in making a Man from U.N.C.L.E. movie but to date that's still just a tease for old fans. The original series was notable in that it broke a cardinal rule of audience retention: “Dance with the one that brung you!” U.N.C.L.E. ran for three and one half seasons and changed tone three times. Those changes which shifted from action/adventure to farce, helped accelerate a fall from grace for TV’s number one show. That’s background for just one element of the book. Vaughn expands on this time as a member of the cult of celebrity. If you’re interested in some Hollywood history from the 50s and 60s, you’ll enjoy this book. If you’re interested in some thoughts on the acting process (Vaughn came from an acting background and briefly offered acting instruction to the likes of Jack Nicholson), you’ll appreciate the philosophy. If you’ve ever wondered how to escape from a foreign country (where you are shooting a film) after being detained under house arrest, you may want to take notes. If you’re interested in a brief retrospective on the Vietnam War era, you’ll learn from his clarity. If you’ve missed some of the latest speculation on who really killed RFK, you’ll consider an alternative theory with a hearsay confession. He was a personal friend of the Kennedys. Vaughn was a serious student of both theatre and political science. He earned a PhD from USC and published his thesis on McCarthy era blacklisting under the title of Only Victims. I received A Fortunate Life on the 25th and finished it the next day. You don’t have to be a fan to enjoy the ride. You’ll recognize a lot of the names and you’ll certainly have heard about a number of the events. For Vaughn, it has been a fortunate life. For the rest of us, it’s a fortunate read.
During both class and private teleprompter (TelePrompTer is a trade name) instruction, I pay particular attention to the eyes. It’s important to both have and display a degree of comfort with the process. When I detect tension in the eyes, I know the actor needs either a larger font size (regardless of what he/she says) or is giving up control to the teleprompter operator. And if the actor never blinks (despite Michael Caine’s advice) I know he/she is focused more on reading rather than communicating. There is a difference. In the former, the actor is relying on the audience to discern the message. In the later the process is a shared experience, which is closer than the medium might suggest. Instruction can correct these tendencies.
Unless the actor specifies the need for instructional emphasis, I usually offer both thru-the-lens and off-camera practice. Thru-the-lens affords the talent opportunity for on-camera narration or spokesperson qualifications. Off-camera is more typically an actor’s challenge because the copy was finished too late for memorization or the terms were too technical to fairly master from memory. Over the years, I’ve probably been equally employed as both talent types. I’ve also run the teleprompter for corporate productions, so I’ve accrued a lot of experience from both perspectives. Another thing I’ve noticed when working with both students and corporate clients is the natural tendency to follow the prompter rather than lead it. The talent believes the prompter is picking up speed, so they start to read faster. As a result, the prompter does pickup speed to follow the rate set by the talent, who then responds accordingly and reads even faster and so on. The talent must assume the natural control of the rate. The best way to understand that you have control, is to pause. During most narration and conversation, a speaker frequently pauses to change direction, weigh the next thought and/or give the audience time to digest the idea. Granted some people do press on from beginning to end without so much as a breath. They believe that because there’s no punctuation or “pause” notation that the thoughts are meant to be presented without breaks. Such consideration emphasizes the words rather than the meaning. The natural more pleasing and effective form of communication will employ carefully placed pauses. By making such choices, the talent will be assured that they have control and will confidently perform accordingly.
Over the weekend, I directed and acted in a short drama sketch. A friend reminded me of something I once suggested—if the acting is bad, it’s the director’s fault. That usually satisfies actors but unfortunately, that didn’t afford me any wiggle room. I was responsible either way. In this performance though, I think my acting partner and I made the grade, but such is not always the case and one has to wonder who is ultimately responsible. I’m sure that you’ve seen movies which left you wondering about a performance. Indies by no means have a monopoly on such deficiencies. The incidents are more significant in studio pictures because we know the money was there to produce a better product, but money doesn’t buy happiness or guarantee the best results. Read Final Cut by Stephen Bach and watch the movie about which it was written—Heaven’s Gate. There is some beautiful cinematography, which may be worth the excessive investment in time (yours watching it). “Richard Linklater, whose 15th movie, Me and Orson Welles, opened Friday in Washington,” is quoted by Ann Hornaday in her December 13, 2009 Washington Post article, “When I see a bad performance, I never blame the actor. I blame the director. He either mis-cast, and that happens, or he didn't create an atmosphere where he could get the best out of that person.” Even though I may know better (and I have firsthand knowledge) I usually also want to honor the actor and surmise that the director didn’t ride the reigns. Either he didn’t give sufficient direction or he allowed too much leeway to the actor. Imagine if you were directing an Academy Award winning actor, would you be able to say, “I’m not quite believing you yet.” That’s a particular problem if you are directing someone of significance who believes the first take is the best and subsequent versions will be a waste of time. Now sometimes it is the actor and you just have to say, that’s as good as it’s going to get and move on. That happens more quickly when you’re shooting film. I was directing a commercial some years ago and one actor just couldn’t say the line. After eight takes on film, I realized, that was as good as it was going to get. There was no time to recast and expense another day of shooting, so I changed the concept from dialogue to thinking and had someone else do the voiceover. Flexibility and a little creativity will generally save your nether region. Directors certainly don’t work alone; they can’t and shouldn’t attempt to do everything; although a wide range of experiences and jobs on different films may be of significant benefit, that’s not always a feasible course of action. There are too many specialized skills, the practitioners competing for jobs. As an actor, you are also fighting the clock, so come to set prepared and ask questions early. I’ve emphasized those practices in earlier blogs. Hone your skills. Acting classes are like icebergs, there’s only a brief amount of time in class, so you have to devote the comparable time to part of the berg that’s underwater. The small slip of time floating above won’t train you sufficiently. You have to dedicate yourself to the processes outlined in a class and keep working, practicing and striving for improvement. In the movie, Nine, Judi Dench’s character says, "Directing a movie is a very overrated job, we all know it. You just have to say yes or no.” The success for any director of course is knowing why; for the actor it’s knowing how.
There is a fallacy known as the résumé. Sometimes when I’m casting, I get the impression that the actor wants to be cast solely on the supposed strength of the résumé. Herein lies the problem (pun intended). Let’s first assume that the résumé is accurate and not replete with extra work. Now I have nothing against extra work. Extras are essentially important to the natural fulfillment of the scene. It’s a great opportunity to be on set and get the lay of the land and it can also can be a wonderful networking opportunity.. Over the years, I have done my share of extra work and have had it contribute significantly in some years to my successful vestment in the SAG retirement plan. I am very thankful for that work and have enjoyed many fine hours trading stories with my colleagues while assigned to holding. But we know the difference in skills. That being said (or unsaid as best I can), there are many competent female actors with fewer roles on their résumés than perhaps less competent male actors with more. I know that will upset some people, but the truth will set you free. It is a simple numbers game. TV perhaps does a better job of balancing male and female roles but films overwhelming use more males in supporting roles. Think, war, adventure, dramas, westerns, etc. Where role opportunities are essentially equally divided in the early 20s, by the time actors reach their 60s those numbers are almost 4 to 1 male. To exacerbate those figures is the larger talent pool of females. While once working in the casting office on a theatrical film, I noticed the female submissions outnumbered the male submissions almost 3 to 1. How does all of that translate? If you are submitting, especially to little spec films (independents) and you’re a male, you have a great chance of working. That unfortunately is not evidence of competent acting. That’s sometimes simply evidence of necessary numbers. I’m sorry but occasionally the emperor has no clothes. I’m also sorry ladies that you don’t have more opportunity, because I know many fine female actors who should be working but can’t fight the numbers. That might be a call ladies to do what many males are doing—write and shoot your own material. I’ve also been disappointed at some auditions by those who have had impressive training credits. Unfortunately, I know too well that just because you’ve finished a class, doesn’t mean you’ve competently completed it. Such are the problems with résumés. I may check to see if you’ve portrayed yourself accurately so don’t try to suggest that extra work is principal (spelled correctly) work; however I will audition you to see if you can act. The good thing is you may not have much on your résumé (nobody does in the beginning), but with an audition, you’ll have the chance to prove you can act—or not.
In 1947, Edwin Land demonstrated his remarkable invention—instant photography. His Land camera later marketed as Polaroid was for years a mainstay in photography studios, movie sets, and audition sessions. In addition, there was the great thrill for many consumers who had the instant gratification of their photographic eye. That of course has become relatively common place with the advent of digital photography. The advent of the digital world was just one of the forces that drove Polaroid to announce in 2008 its discontinuation of instant film. This essentially rendered collectible status to a series of cameras which no longer had any available film. Today however there is talk of the reintroduction in 2010 of analog film for these cameras by the Impossible Project. And now you may say, “Thanks for the history lesson but what does any of this have to do with acting?” Good question. This has to do with the job of acting—the arena in which you will spend more time than the one in which you actually perform. For years, at go-sees and some auditions, actors would have a Polaroid photo taken to capture a more naturalistic image. Even though you are required to submit a headshot, the belief is you don’t really look like your headshot. Many people do go to extremes in makeup, pose and expression to get attention with their image. Once when I was going to a large general monologue audition, I offered to retrieve a pack of headshots for a casting director who couldn’t attend. The CD declined my offer because by not attending, this person said that they wouldn’t know if the actors really looked like their headshots. Such is the suspicion of the headshot. The irony of course is that a Polaroid is really no better. No one is generally lit by a burst of light directly in front of them. Unless of course you are taking their picture lying face up on a beach or in some dark dank subterranean interrogation room with a single light in your face (I hate when that happens). These are not “natural” lighting effects. Neither was a Polaroid but it gave an alternate view to the suspect headshot. All of this is to say, you need to be selective and purposeful in your choices. You need to have a goal beyond the meaningless, “I want a great shot.” To read about your goals, click on Headshot Photography After the brief slide show, you’ll see some guidelines and goals for your headshot. Oh, and don’t say cheese. Unless you're four, that's not smiling. :)
For this story, I’m purposely being vague about the production as that aspect doesn’t really matter. I’m sure that similar situations have played out over the years on many TV and film projects. Therefore the issue is in most but not all of the details. On this occasion, I happened to overhear an audition in which the “actor’s” real occupation was the same as the one for which he was reading. The actor was given a very practical direction. Since you do this for a living, you don’t have to pretend like an actor would, just say the lines. Makes sense; it’s the same direction that Sydney Pollack gave to the newscasters in my earlier tip. In this case, it also didn’t work—repeatedly. The problem is unfortunately it’s not that simple, even for actors. Whether or not you are employed in that occupational pursuit, it still just sounds like reading, because essentially that’s exactly what you’re doing. I hear it frequently in the auditions for my own projects and during our class assignments. The reason is, you didn’t think up those words. They don’t originate in the part of your brain that you use to engage in conversation. There’s no reaction/response. Auditioning employs the part of the brain used for reading/recitation or in some cases remembrance/recitation. And that’s what makes an actor special. Regardless of the technique that the actor employs, the good ones can make that remembrance/recitation sound like reaction/response. I’m not going promote a school or technique as I am unconvinced that there is a single method, but getting there is the goal. I will offer one suggestion that I’ll expand upon in weeks to come and that is listening. If you are going to have a reaction/response, you have to listen and I don’t mean listening for your cue. I mean listening to the other person’s line and thinking about what they are saying and what they mean. If you are just picking up cues or waiting your turn in the scene, you’re simply reading lines. You may be able to flavor them, but their taste will be significantly lacking. And even though you may be employed in the given occupation, the direction you don’t want to hear is, “Don’t quit your day job.”
Several years ago, I had the great pleasure to meet the late actor John Spencer. He was in Washington shooting a scene from West Wing and required a rehearsal partner. I was given the charge to assist with a scene that he would film later that week back in L.A. Such was his dedication to the process. So on that Sunday afternoon, I sat with him in his hotel room talking about West Wing, actors, his career and oh yes, rehearsing. John was a man who loved acting and actors. He enjoyed their presence. I felt sure from this brief experience, that his colleagues enjoyed him as well. After all, here we sat on a Sunday afternoon prepping for a two-page scene to be shot several days later. He was not taking the opportunity to sightsee in the Nation’s Capitol. John was working. He was a dedicated actor and he rightly expected the same dedication from those with whom he shared the stage. He spoke passionately of that expectation and his displeasure with those actors who came to set unprepared. In essence, he grieved how they wasted everyone’s time. He greatly appreciated the opportunity to work in this industry and felt that everyone who does should be aware of their good fortune and act accordingly. John also noted that those who don’t, do not go unnoticed by producers who always have a keen eye on their money. Characters sometimes get sick, have accidents and/or are shot. And sometimes they die. The resulting ratings boost is icing on the cake. Some of those characters would still be going strong if the actors playing the roles came to set prepared and did their jobs efficiently. John had been a working actor for decades. He’d done a TV series with Patty Duke in the 60s and for a couple of decades spent an exhilarating life treading the boards in New York. You may also remember him from LA Law in the early 90s. Curiously enough, he told me that two years earlier, he had just taken the summer off for the first time ever. There’s always the issue about turning down work and the resilient question, wondering if you will ever work again. That’s a common concern for even the most regular of actors. As we began to rehearse, John asked me if I ever changed words (I’ll save my response for another tip)? He held to the sanctity principle—the author’s words are immutable. And so we dotted every “i” and crossed every “t”. It was a singular experience. Before I said goodbye, I mentioned that my wife was a big fan of his and West Wing. He offered to send me a signed photo when he returned to LA and so he took down my address. Sure enough, within two weeks, an envelop arrived addressed to her with his signed headshot. I will always appreciate my good fortune to have met John and shared stories. There are several things we can learn from John – the credibility of his performances, the great appreciation he held for his life in the business, the dedication he gave to and expected from others and his good word in even the smallest of favors. Any actor would be well-served to honor the lead of John Spencer.
Character is revealed through relationships. Even if you are presenting a monologue, you need to establish the relationship. More on this another time, but the missing relationship is the major reason why the vast majority of monologue auditions fail. However, this tip is about dialogue performance and relates a story presented in our former Working Actor 1 class. Before you can decide on your character, you need to understand the relationships and how they maintain and advance the story. Serve the story. If you have fun or even therapy with character exploration, don’t change the story to suit the character. Use the character to fully develop the story. Several years ago I went to see a friend’s show. She was performing Nancy in Oliver. This is a very talented actress who takes direction well. When Bill Sykes entered the stage, all of the tavern folk cowered except for Nancy who quickly dismissed him with a wave of her hand. After the show I asked her why she did that. She said the director wanted her character to be strong. In this case, the dismissive gesture accomplished two things; it made Nancy seem foolish and Bill less threatening. Despite the cowering crowd, Nancy knows him best and effectively tells the audience there’s no bite in his bark. Bill had been symbolically emasculated with the wave of a hand. Always be aware of the power of your actions. Nancy’s character eventually shows strength and courage because she overcomes her fear to do the right thing and help save Oliver. This Nancy became weaker because she had already started out strong. Character is revealed through relationships. Don’t consider your character in a void. It’s never about what you want to do; it’s about what the character should do. It also helps when the director understands the story.
In one of our (original) Working Actor Classes, we would give each student a monologue to prepare for the following week. The only instruction they received was not to purposely memorize it. Following their presentation the next week, I asked each one how much time they spent in preparation. The hours varied significantly as one student said they didn’t look at it at all because they wanted it to be fresh. I am accustomed to that response. There is some notion somewhere that fresh is best. Probably comes out of an improv class. The best thing about an improv is that by adding an “e” you can improve it. Unfortunately in this class (as in the film & theatrical world) their idea of “fresh” doesn’t cut it. I told the student that what they had accomplished was making it raw. Fresh is something that a film and TV actor must bring to each scene take after take. A stage actor must make it fresh night after night. It must be repeatable. You can only do that when you prepare and understand the scene. You can only do that when you make choices. You can only do that when you rehearse. Fresh is the result of your commitment. Raw is just a different class.
Several years ago, I had the good fortune to be cast by Sidney Pollack for a small (not according to Shakespeare) role in one of his films. When Sydney came in to rehearse the scene, he admonished everyone with, “I don’t want to see any acting in here.” I’m thinking, “Great. I finally get to work with Sydney Pollack and I can’t act.” Some might suggest that was a pre-existing condition. In any event, he simply wanted us to say the lines. He first tested one of real local TV reporters he had cast. The reporter delivered the line and he interrupted with, “No. You’re acting. Just say the line.” The reporter tried again with the same result. He tested the next reporter. Same thing. So now I’m thinking, “Great. I finally get to work with Sydney Pollack and I don’t want him to talk to me.” Evidently I didn’t see me act because he was fine with delivery. In life, words are connected to intent. They are tools to communicate meaning. The way we easily spot “acting” is when the words are disconnected from the intent. You can add emphasis to words. Our elementary school teachers did a wonderful job doing that when they read to us. I loved Charlotte’s Web in the fourth grade. Some actors sound like they’re reading a book. They add emphasis, but the words don’t sound like they originate with the character. They are all about the words without connecting to the intent. In other words, (pardon the pun) they’re readers. They recite. When the words drive the intent, the intent is perceived as real; the acting is unseen. When Sydney said he didn’t want to see any acting, he was of course correct. In this case, the not seeing, was believing.
I was going down a different path for this week’s tip until last night when I read the following Markus Klinko quote in American Photo magazine: “You know, I will often say, ‘I like this image.’ And Indrani (his art director) will say, ‘Well, what is it that you like about it?’ And my answer will be, ‘Well, I just like it.’ That’s an egotistical perspective and she points out that it really doesn’t matter what you yourself like. It’s important to analyze who you’re trying to reach with the image.” I’ve been saying this for years to my headshot clients. My photojournalism students also learn that simply “liking it” is an insufficient answer. For too many actors, the goal is focused on looking their best rather than isolating those factors that will work towards a phone call from their agent or casting director. Know the market, know the audience and know thyself. Work towards creating a successful tool and not a mantle picture. You don’t need to “like” the photo but you do need to look like the photo. The headshot should work towards getting you hired for the things for which you are suitable. This is a wake-up call for some. Deal with the truth. If you were sitting in one of my classes and you told me you liked a photo, I would ask you why. Knowing that answer will make all the difference.
Collaboration can be a wonderful experience in the creation of a performance. When approached improperly, it can also be a nightmare in the creation of a story. Whenever I write a monologue or scene, I usually hear the characters speak. No, I don’t hear voices in the literal sense, but I do have a sense of what best serves the scene. When that doesn’t ring true, it’s as flat as a bad note. However, every now and then an actor surprises me. The actor may take that character or scene down a road that I hadn’t envisioned. It’s not that it’s right or wrong; it’s just different. It may explore a new dynamic that I hadn’t considered. It may shed a new light on an area that I hadn’t seen. It may get me to question a theme or propose a contrary viewpoint. I may still prefer my original concept, but those moments are still euphoric discoveries and for those moments, I thank my actors. It is a wonderful collaborative experience. More often than not though, I hear the all too isolated journey. “I think my character would do this.” Or, “I think my character would say that.” The problem is those insights are too frequently self-serving. They are something the actor wants to do but the character shouldn’t. My question then is how does that advance or change the scene dynamics? As much as we want to explore all the great possibilities within our characters, the overlying framework is the story. We have one to tell and that diversion changes the character, the relationship and ultimately the path of the journey. Know the story and know your part within that context. “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” Some years ago I auditioned for the role of a butler in a motion picture. I naturally wanted to explore the complexities of the character so I asked about his relationship and response to the other characters in the scene. I was trying to learn what type of butler this great character could be. After posing my questions, the Casting Director looked at me blankly for a few seconds and simply offered, “He’s a butler.” I had looked at the role independently from the scene. They are not inseparable. I also can’t heap this burden on just the actor. It would help if the director always knew the story and how to tell it. Sadly for the actor, that can also be part of the nightmare.
In Madeleine Van Hecke’s book Blind Spots: Why Smart People Do Dumb Things she writes, “One reason that people believe weird things is because they want to: the beliefs console them, give them hope or make them feel they can control what happens in their lives.” Boy is that the truth! This business is fraught with weird ideas. It’s a business in which the actor has little control and understanding as to why they didn’t get cast. (I have a workshop that describes 65 reasons) So belief in weird ideas gives them something on which to hang their proverbial hat. I know, I’ve heard them and held onto them myself, that is until I started working behind the camera. Today I tell many of my students when they perpetuate one of the many myths, just think about that for a minute. Does that really make any sense? Why would that possibly be important? What does that say about the director? Suddenly I realized when you start to think about it from the other side, it doesn’t make any sense (you’d be amazed how many times this works outside of the acting business as well). When I started to work on the other side (some would say the dark side) I realized how stupid many of the myths actually were. Ask this one important question: “Why?” If the answer is an anecdotal response, then that’s not enough of a reason. In fact causation may have occurred in spite of that behavior (e.g. “I got the part because I used a prop”). With apologies to Harold Hill and the Think System, thinking is a good thing. Don't believe in weird things--Think!
Don't presume that the director will always do his/her job at the audition. That may seem harsh, but I've seen it on ocassion. Sometimes directors need as much coaching as actors. I sat in on an audition once where after the actor finished and exited, the director said, "I wish he would have done..." To which I suggested that he could have given the actor direction. He brought the actor back in and gave him the direction. If you aren't getting direction, you might want to ask. "Would you like to see that a different way?" Engage the scene, the director and the client. Make sure you have a practical alternative ready. If given specific direction (and I can't emphasize this enough) make sure you take that direction. Sometimes the direction may seem wrong. Take it anyway. We always like to see that you can take direction. We want to test your range. So if given a change, make sure that you effect that change. And if you ever think about directing, make sure you direct.
Listen! Half of any dialogue audition involves listening. It is during this time when your scene partner is speaking that your character should be listening and reacting nonverbally. If you aren't, then you're just taking turns saying lines. Dialogue arises from impetus. Why you are saying wht you are saying is just as important as what you are saying. Frequently we make casting decisions based on what the actor does between the lines. Listen and react.
The audition begins with first contact. Follow directions from the outset. If submission instructions are specific, provide specifically what's required--no more. This may be the first test that you can follow directions. Providing more than what's required or in the wrong format or size may send the message that you can't take direction. Demonstrate that ability by following instructions. Don't begin by indicating you think you know better than the talent agent, casting director or director. Collaboration will begin when you are cast. Throughout the process, take and follow directions.