walk-on in a car-crash movie.
“Why don’t you come back east,” I said, “and work in the theatre.”
“Hey,” he said, “this is where the work is.” He was a fine, respected, working actor. He situated himself in the midst of those he despised and chose to suffer their displeasure.
Do you desire the good opinion of these people? Are not these the same people you told me yesterday were fools and charlatans? Do you then desire the good opinionof fools and charlatans? That is the question asked by Epictetus.
And so we might ask ourselves, you and I, what is character? Someone says character is the external life of the person onstage, the way that that person moves or stands or holds a handkerchief, or their mannerisms. But that person onstage is
you
. It is not a construct you are free to amend or mold. It’s you. It is
your
character which you take onstage.
The word “character” in the theatre has no other meaning. The ability to act, to resist, to assent, to assert, to proclaim, to support, to deny, to bear. These are the components of character onstage or off.
Your character, onstage or off, is molded by the decisions you make: which play you do, whether or not to pursue employment in commercials, in sex films or pseudo-sex films, in violent or demeaning films, in second-rate movies or plays; whether or not to treat yourself with sufficient respect to perfect your voice and body, whether or not to prepare for your scene, for your play, for your film, for your audition. Whether or not to conduct your business affairs circumspectly. The ideas, organizations, actions, and people you support and dedicate yourself to, mold and finally
are
your character. Any other definition is the jabbering of the uncommitted.
Certainly the weak would like you to believe that character is a costume which can be put on or taken off at will. And from time to time we’d all like to believe it. But that doesn’t make it true.
——
You can pursue fame, but that doesn’t mean that you will achieve fame, or that if you get it you’ll find it is what you thought it was. Similarly, you can pursue money, or the phantom called mobility, which is to say, “I just want to get far enough ahead so that I can do whatever I want.” Well, you can
attempt
whatever you want
today
, and if you can’t today you aren’t going to be able to tomorrow.
An actor who had moved to Los Angeles was once offered the lead in a play we were doing in Chicago, a lovely actor who was perfect for the role, and he said, “I’d love to be able to come and play the part, and I wish my career were far enough along to allow me to do so.” That actor, like many of his brothers and sisters, sat alone home by the phone in L.A. for the eight weeks he could have been playing a part in Chicago. A part he professed that he’d love to play.
“If not now, when?” That’s the question Hillel asked.
And if you like the theatre and the life of the theatre, participate in it like the prospector out there with his or her burro.
Participate
in it.
Yes, but sometimes of course we must decide to fill up the larder, or to make a less than perfect choice which might improve our chances to fill up the larder, you say. Granted. But which times are those, and on what basis do we choose? The Stoics would say, “Act first to desire your own good opinion.”
That is the meaning of character.
Here is the best acting advice I know. And when I am moved by a genius performance, this is what I see the actor doing:
Invent nothing, deny nothing
. This is the meaning of character.
I’ve heard young actors speak of “stepping out.” They felt constrained by the above suggestions, and they wanted, finally, a “part to tear a cat in,” in which they could strut their stuff. They wanted to invent, to mold, to elaborate, to influence, to be a “transformational actor”—to be, in effect, anything but themselves.
No doubt, for the grass is always greener. But the
Larry Collins, Dominique Lapierre