Chapter 10

Directing the Actor

Volumes have been written about acting. Mary Lou coauthored one of them with actress and author Dinah Lenney, Acting for Young Actors (Back Stage Books). Bethany and Mary Lou believe that the more you know about the actor’s process, the better director you’ll be. So where do we start when talking about directing actors? Let’s begin with the 5 Ws: who, what, where, when, and why. These are the same words a journalist explores when writing the lead to a story to ensure that all the essential information is addressed in the first paragraph of a news article. An actor begins with those same words when finding out all the information about a character he is beginning to explore.

THE ACTOR’S HOMEWORK: THE 5 Ws

In acting, each word is the beginning of a question actors ask themselves about the characters they are playing, in order to provide the character with a point of view, or a way of being, within the world created by the script. Those questions are:

Who am I?

What do I want?

Where am I?

When is it?

Why do I want what I want?

 

Remember the COW chart from Chapter 2 when we talked about breaking down the script for character? This is the same work an actor hopefully does when approaching a character and asking him the first question: “Who am I?” (What does the Character say about herself, what do Others say about the character, and what does the Writer say?) The difference between the actor and director is what they do with the raw data. The information helps directors interpret the script. For the actor, the information is the first of many clues in a complex quest toward building a character. (By the way, those last three words are the title of another acting volume Building a Character by the famous Russian director and actor, Konstantin Stanislavski. In one of its American inceptions, the book is the jumping-off point for the Method style of acting as explored by director Elia Kazan and members of the Group Theatre. We could go on and on about the history of modern acting, but suffice it to say that the more you know, the better director you’ll be.) The actor takes the information from the script or COW chart and will, at the very least, learn the lines of dialog written for his character. Going from the basic to the sublime, at the point of artistry, he will embody or become that character to its fullest.

 

 

The heart of playing the character is in the art of answering the next question: “What do I want?” It is essentially what the character needs and is what you explored when you looked at the character’s intention in Chapter 2. The actor looks at this question in a way similar to that of the director. The actor, as the character, has to know what he wants or needs from another character. The actor can phrase this in the form of an action verb: to beg, to seduce, to demolish. And not only does the actor want to “do” something, but he also needs the other character to “do” something, too. “My character intends to seduce the other character, so the other character will do what? Leave, give me money, fall in love with me, hate me?” Intention is always a verb that provokes another action. An actor’s preparation should always include the answer to the question: “What do I need to do in this scene that will cause the other character to do something in return?” When the actor plays his intention, he becomes active and doesn’t play a mood. The actor’s work is specific. The character gets a spine.

Moving from the actors’ process to the director’s for a moment: when a scene is not working well, the first thing to look at from the director’s viewpoint is whether each character’s intention is being pursued with full commitment. Four out of five times, you will make a scene better simply by addressing that question and pushing your actors to achieve their character’s intention.

In exploring the third question—“Why do I want what I want?”—the character gets passion. This is where the actor takes the character from being the archetype we mentioned in Chapter 2 (which is a helpful tool to label and find the essence of a character for a director) and develops that character into the living, breathing person with specific subtleties and aspects of the personality of the actor who creates the character. Or if the character is distinctly different from the actor, the specific subtleties come from the imagination of the actor who creates the character. Either way, when actors find in themselves why the character needs what they need and does what they do, he explores the raw motivation of the character. And with every actor, those motivations will be unique. As Meryl Streep said, “All an actor has, I think, is their heart, really … that’s the place you go for your inspiration.¹”

 

 

The last two questions are simple but crucial information for the actor to ask. The answers to “When is it?” and “Where am I?” affect an actor’s sense of urgency and grounds the actor in a sense of place. There is a brilliant scene between a couple in love played by Keira Knightley and James McAvoy in Christopher Hampton’s faithful screen adaptation of Ian McEwan’s novel Atonement. It takes place in a crowded restaurant, where the two have tea. This is the first time meeting since McAvoy’s character has served jail time due to a lie told by the Knightley character’s sister. McAvoy has also faced brutal combat conditions in the interim. Knightley has been estranged from her family, living on her own, and working at a hospital during the war. The “when” of the scene is informed by these timely past events. Even more pressing is the limited amount of time for this reunion because Knightley’s character needs to return to the hospital in half an hour. The “where” of this scene is influenced by the lack of privacy available with so many nearby restaurant patrons, especially as both characters have such intimate things they want to say.

 

 

Exploring these five questions will hopefully be the thorough kind of work an actor will do before he ever auditions for you or even meets you on a set. Hopefully, the actor—like you—has also analyzed what obstacles the characters encounter to getting what they want in each scene. But that might not be the case.

There are so many different ways in which an actor prepares (another three words that are the title of a Stanislavski volume: An Actor Prepares). Some actors have a distinct way of working based on studying their craft; others purposely choose not to study formally. Meryl Streep went through an intense graduate program at Yale; Johnny Depp has been quoted saying, “If you catch me saying ‘I am a serious actor,’ I beg you to slap me.” The director must be prepared for either of these scenarios—and everything in between.

 

 

The most important thing to have is respect for acting. (Those last three words are the title of yet another book: Respect for Acting by Uta Hagen.) You need empathy for what actors do and how they put themselves on the line. If you haven’t already, take an acting class. Once you’ve walked a mile in an actor’s shoes, you’ll have a firsthand understanding of what they do and how hard it is to do it because they figuratively get naked by putting their heart out there for everyone to see. You will understand why actors need a safe place to work. Figure 10-1 shows Bethany on the set of Brothers & Sisters giving a direction to Dave Annable, who plays Justin Walker. Notice the connection between actor and director. We can’t stress how important it is for an actor to feel safe in his working environment, and we will talk about it more later in this chapter.

SHAPING A PERFORMANCE ON SET

The practical part of directing actors happens on set during rehearsal. This time is when you shape an actor’s performance. It should be a closed rehearsal, that is, no crew members other than the script supervisor, the director of photography, and your 1st AD invited. Your actors will have done their homework, hopefully, and they will know their 5 Ws and obstacles. You don’t need to discuss the scene unless they want to. Rather, begin the rehearsal by letting the actors act. You watch.

You must make sure that you and the actors are telling the same story. Here is the crucial difference between the director and the actors: the actors have asked themselves these questions about just the scene(s) they are about to do. The director has asked herself these questions about the entire script and carries the arc of the story in her head. Actors are not expected to calibrate the performance based on the overall arc of the script; that is, they may cry in the scene, when holding back tears is what is called for. Only you—the director—know that each scene is a puzzle piece and where that piece fits.

FIGURE 10-1 Actor Dave Annable (“Justin Walker”) with director Bethany Rooney on the set of ABC’s Brothers & Sisters. (Brothers & Sisters trademarks and copyrighted material have been used with the permission of ABC Studios.)

This is a very subtle thing, as your actors will have read the whole script; they know the story, and they know the arc. But in that moment, when rehearsing an individual scene out of sequence, the director is responsible for the tone of the performance.

 

 

If you are not on the same page, then discussion is warranted. Ideally, this discussion takes place during rehearsal and the actors trust you to guide them. In large-budget productions, you will get rehearsal time before you begin production. You can work through every scene and figure each one out together before camera ever rolls. But in episodic television, the only rehearsal you have is the one before you shoot the scene. Mary Lou likes to streamline this process by addressing the subtext, or the meaning under the line. She finds it an efficient and specific way to make sure that you’re on the same page.

Here is an exercise to illustrate how subtext works.

So how does Mary Lou use the exercise on set? First, she addresses what she observed. “When you said this … ” and here she paraphrases, being careful not to give a line reading, or saying the exact line in the script, rather than the subtext, “I got that you were saying this …” and here she states the subtext. “But I think the character is thinking this … ” and here she states the new subtext. This approach can lead to further discussion if the actor needs clarification, but generally the actor will take that information in and Mary Lou will say, “Okay, let’s try it again,” and the rehearsal proceeds.

Now let’s say you and your actors are on the same page, but they need some help. You need to direct them. You need to tell them how to shape or shade their performance. How do you tell them what to do? You do not need to get into a big discussion about anything. In every actor’s vocabulary, there are some code words that will help you achieve what you’re looking for. The fewer the words, the better. Think of them as pearls of wisdom … concise, pithy pearls.

So back to the words—the actor’s vocabulary. You have pulled the actor aside, and you are going to give him the magic words that will improve his performance. And we’re telling you, it really is like that. It’s like a key that turns a lock in the actor’s brain. You say the right words, the lock opens, and the magic comes out.

We’ve already discussed a few of these words, (point of view, subtext, intention, and obstacle), but there is also the lead-in to the magic words. Bethany often uses the phrase, “I’d like you to try [her idea].” She used to say, “Can you do [her idea]?” An older feisty actress with whom she worked liked to reply, “I can do anything. What do you want me to do, Miss Director?” The actress was putting her finger on a very salient point. When you say for you to try [some idea],” you are claiming your position as director while acknowledging that it’s a creative enterprise fraught with judgment. So “I’d like you to try [this idea]” is not threatening. It is saying, “I have a direction for you to go here; let’s see how it works, and don’t worry—we’re just trying it, so there’s no heavy judgment.”

When you ask an actor to try something, be specific about what you’re looking for: “I’d like you to try to play the intention more strongly.” Or, “I’d like you to try to play the obstacle more strongly.” But Bethany wants to make sure that the actor understands exactly what she’s talking about, so she uses the verb of that particular intention. So she might say: “I’d like you to try to play the intention of rejecting him more strongly.” Or “I’d like you to try to play the obstacle of still loving him more strongly.” By giving the actor direction and using a verb, you are giving him something specific to do. Take, give. Honor, hurt. Protect, flee.

When you give the actor a job to do, it’s a clean and clear direction. You won’t have to explain yourself, except to talk about degrees of commitment to the action. That can be as simple as the 1–10 scale: “That was great. But that was about a five. I’d like to see you take it to a ten.”

Ask for what you need as the director and the storyteller: “I’d like you to try to do this.” If it makes you uncomfortable to speak so forthrightly, you can use the more inclusive “we.” You might say, “We need more conflict in this scene.” And then, perhaps, you lead your actors where you want them to go by continuing with, “How could we do that?” When your actors come up with the answers themselves, they may be more likely to commit strongly. But whether you use the autocratic “I” or the inclusive “we,” the point is to steer your actors toward focusing on achieving their intentions.

 

 

As we discussed in Chapter 2, almost any scene will be better with a heightened sense of conflict. It’s a matter of energy, of focus, of sparks flying as two characters with opposing needs meet in a power struggle. It’s the difference between a tepid scene and a vibrant one. However, it isn’t enough to just say, “We need more conflict.” You must determine what those opposing needs are and what each character’s intention is, and you must ask your actors to play that intention more strongly.

However, one thing to look out for is an actor who is playing the achievement of the intention at the beginning of the scene. In that case, you might say something like, “I feel like you’re playing the end of the scene at the beginning. It might be better to give yourself somewhere to go, maybe play the obstacle (of whatever it is) more strongly.” When you say, “You’re playing the end at the beginning, give yourself somewhere to go,” that’s all you have to say. Your actor will totally get it, nod, and on the next take, make the adjustment.

But whenever you approach an actor, say something positive first. Say to your actor, “You are really on the right track. You really touched me. And I think it will be even better if you play the intention—or the obstacle—[with specific verb] more strongly.” Tell them they did well. Then tell them how they can do it better. And when they’ve hit the mark, you say, “Print it. Let’s move on.” There are no sweeter words to the actor’s ear. That means they did it. They nailed it. And when you have shown them you are worthy of their respect—because you are a great director—they want nothing more than for you to approve. And print it.

 

 

Remember in Chapter 2, when we talked about labels as a shorthand term for a type of character? A label is an adjective that describes a type of overall personality or feeling. That’s a positive thing, when you, the director, are thinking of the characters as an archetype. But using labels is a negative thing when you’re asking an actor to play a mood, which is giving direction by using an adjective. If you use a label with an actor, like “Play sadder,” you’ll get a general sad response. If you remind an actor of some specific sad thing that happened, you will get a specific response. The same goes for an ailment. Reminding an actor “You have a headache” isn’t as helpful as “You feel like someone is poking a needle into your left eye.” Also beware of an actor who figuratively wears a banner or label like “bad boy” or “perky girl.” This choice will lead to a caricature who makes clichéd choices rather than a full-blown character who has specific needs. Suggesting an intention to the actor with a verb should steer the actor away from the general character label. Perhaps the character is a “bad boy” because he’s an outsider, and all he wants now is to fit in with the group of characters in the scene. Now the actor has something specific to do—a goal to reach in the scene—and he can focus on achieving that.

CODE WORDS THAT TRIGGER PERFORMANCE

What are some other code words from the actor’s vocabulary? We’ve covered four: point of view, subtext, intention, and obstacle. Here are some more:

1.  Raise the stakes.

2.  Find peaks and valleys./Find more colors.

3.  Who has the power?/Who’s winning?

4.  What’s the new information?/What do you find out?

5.  What if your character has this secret … ?

The first one, “Raise the stakes,” also means, “Commit to your intention more strongly.” Make the scene more important. Care more. Make a bigger deal out of it. Sometimes an actor’s energy is just a little down. All you have to say is, “Raise the stakes” and they get it. You don’t need to give them a lecture on where the character has been in the previous scene or the emotional point of view. Just say, “Raise the stakes” and they’ll say “Oh, okay,” and the scene will be exactly what you needed. If they don’t understand how much you’re asking them to raise the stakes, you can give it to them in numbers: “I’d say that was a five, and I’d like it to be an eight or nine.” Though that may sound nebulous, it’s a way for an actor to understand to what degree you want them to adjust his performance. On the next take, you may say, “Okay, you moved it up to a six. But I still think you can go stronger. I’d like to see it be an eight or nine.” And now they know what you want.

 

 

The second phrase, “Find the peaks and valleys” or sometimes “Find more colors,” is used when the scene is sounding all the same. Vocal inflection is flat. Don’t ever, ever give an actor a line reading. Don’t tell them where you want the emphasis. Just tell them, “Find more peaks and valleys” or “Find more colors,” and they’ll do it and probably surprise you with stuff you hadn’t even foreseen. After all, you’ve hired wonderful actors who are excellent at what they do. Let them do it. Don’t dictate to them every little nuance. Tell them what you’re looking for, but not how to do it. Tell them the shape of what you’re looking for and guide them and steer them if necessary, but please respect their craft.

The third code phrase, “Who has the power?” or “Who’s winning?”, challenges the actor to not only play his intention stronger but make sure that the character gets results. This phrase will often make actors pay closer attention to their scene partners and then notice a shift in the scene when their character gains or loses the power. You can even use the analogy of boxing. Ask the actor to notice who is getting in the jabs and who is winning the round.

Next, the phrases “What is the new information?” or “What do you find out?” remind actors that their character makes a discovery in the scene. And you don’t want to tell him what that discovery is. You do want him to listen and be in the moment (freshly aware) when that new information is told to him and see how it affects the scene. When the actor notices the shift and reacts accordingly, it makes the scene more dynamic.

Finally, “What if your character has this secret … ?” is a way for you to add some color to an actor’s performance. Of course, you have to suggest something that fits with the character you already know. It shouldn’t be a story point because the secret will never influence the outcome of the story, but it will shade the scene in an interesting way.

All of these suggestions to actors are ways of asking them to give you more. You want them to be more specific and more invested in the character’s needs. But there is one direction that is asking to give less: you want a less overt demonstration of their emotional point of view. This is called covering. An actor can cover, or hide, what their true intention is. It is a way of disguising intense feelings because they may not be appropriate at that moment in a scene. A good example of a character covering is Paul Rudd in the movie Dinner for Schmucks. He spends practically the entire movie covering his true feelings, until the climactic dinner scene, when he confesses to Steve Carell’s character that he, Rudd’s character, has treated this particular schmuck badly, and finally, his true feelings are exposed.

The tricky thing about covering is that it isn’t effective unless a moment of truth is present. Otherwise, it may seem like basically you’re just a bad actor. Another example of a cover is in The Hurt Locker, when Jeremy Renner’s Sergeant James has to hide his point of view while he attempts to cut a “body bomb” out of a young boy with whom he has a friendship. Renner’s true feelings flash across his eyes a couple of times during the scene, but the depth of his despair about this and other atrocities he has to deal with is revealed only in the later shower scene, when Renner breaks down. Perhaps Renner’s director, Kathryn Bigelow, said something like, “I’d like you to cover a little more” during the bomb-defusing scene in order to help the actor calibrate his performance perfectly.

Your actors may be exactly on target with the intent of a scene, but they may be lacking pace. Although you want the performances to be fully expressed, sometimes actors get a little self-indulgent as they wait for the feelings to rise in them. But the director is aware that in looking at the entire scene, more pace is required to tell the story well and keep the audience’s attention. Essentially, faster is better. If a two-page scene plays in four minutes, that’s too long. You have two choices here. You can ask the actors for a faster pace, or you can create it in the editing room by snipping out their pauses, as we talk about in Chapter 14. It is more organic to create pace in the performance, so if you can nudge your actors along, that’s better. One way to do that is to stress the urgency of the actor’s intention. But if that doesn’t work, Bethany has found that sometimes it’s best just to say it straight. Ask your script supervisor how long the scene is playing. Then say to the actors, “That two-page scene took four minutes. We need to trim at least 45 seconds.” Most of the time, the actors will accept the competitive challenge, and after the next take, will call out to the script supervisor, “How long was that?” Basically, you’re asking your actors to think and talk, not think then talk. And they can do it, if you point it out to them.

Each of these phrases can be a catalyst. You want to unlock the creativity inside the actors. You might be looking for a result, but you want the actors to find the way there. Guide them so that they make the discovery.

That being said, sometimes an actor gets lost or just isn’t getting where you want him to go. As a last resort, say the subtext of the line in the way you’d like the line said. Nine times out of ten, the actor will say the line with the same intonation and rhythm you just used. An example from one of Bethany’s recent directing experiences was a scene in which a character said, “Don’t you recognize the school quarterback?” Bethany gave the actor an adjustment, the change she was looking for, by saying that he should make the line more personal. But he didn’t understand what she meant. So she said, “It’s like, ‘I hate that f---ing guy.’” The actor nodded and delivered the line specifically and perfectly, with the same intent and intonation Bethany had used.

 

 

One more thing about line readings. We strongly caution against using them because they are just a bandage that doesn’t necessarily fix the problem: the actor may be able to repeat the line with the same intonation and rhythm you used, but may not connect to why he is saying it. That being said, some actors actually like line readings, because it is the fastest way for them to discover the meaning of the line. If actors ask for one, shoot it to them!

HINTS FOR HONING COMEDY

When Mary Lou directs comedy, she often finds that actors employ the wrong operative word, or word to be stressed, to give the sentence the correct meaning in a line of dialog. This problem can kill the funny, and it happens most often when an actor stresses information that the audience already knows, rather than the new information that will surprise the audience. The simple way to fix this is to simply tell the actor the word he is stressing incorrectly and which word it should be. If pointing out the word doesn’t correct the problem, she demonstrates with this tried-and-true example. She asks the actor, “What kind of ice cream do you like? And please use the word ‘ice cream’ in your answer.” He will reply, “I like vanilla ice cream,” or “I like chocolate ice cream,” or “I like Rocky Road ice cream.” No matter what the answer is, she points out that “The flavor is the operative word, not the word ‘ice cream’ because we already know we’re talking about ice cream from the question.”

She also points out that in any runs, or jokes that have three elements, the third element is always the funny part, and should be punched or stressed ever so lightly. If the actor is not aware that this is a joke, you can simply—but never condescendingly—point out the three-part structure. Be sensitive to whether your actor wants to know this kind of structural information or whether you need to suggest a method of getting your end result by putting your direction in terms of the character. We’ll illustrate the two different approaches with the discussion of the next joke: the mislead/turn or a joke that deliberately sets up one expectation but then delivers another. The secret to the perfect delivery of this kind of joke is to disguise that there is a punch line coming. If the actor changes the rhythm or cadence from the mislead part of the joke, (usually the feed or setup) to the turn part of the joke (usually the payoff or punch line), it will also make the humor crisper. So how do you get an actor to do this? The simple way is to simply point out the two parts of the joke. Tell the actor to “lay out” the feed and “throw away” or underplay the payoff. If, on the other hand, your actor is not interested in the structure of jokes, you can discuss with the actor whether the character is purposely misleading the other character. You can suggest the character “disguise his motives.”

Another quick fix when you can’t seem to get through to an actor is praising her for doing what you want her to do even though she didn’t do it quite yet. And then say, “Let’s go again” while that idea is fresh in the actor’s mind. The actor will feel acknowledged and confident that it went well, but you’ve subliminally planted the idea of how you want it to go on the next take.

Mary Lou suggests actors pack a suitcase full of details about their character. Some details may be “worn” at will in the character’s thought process. Others may never leave the suitcase.

 

 

Your ultimate litmus test to believing an actor’s work is as follows. Ask yourself, “When this character is not talking, is the actor still thinking ‘in character’?” If not, you can liken a scene to a game of catch. Most of the time, the actor is thrown a ball when the other actor delivers a line or throws a cue. The actor’s job is to catch it and throw it back when saying the next line. But balls don’t always accompany words. Sometimes balls are thrown with nonverbal signals, thoughts, or subtext. It’s your job to help the actor to catch appropriately. Because you know from our discussion in Chapter 7 (and more to come in Chapter 14) that you will be editing this scene together in your head as it is being shot, you’ll be very aware that listening (or reaction shots) are just as important as dialog/verbal shots. Sometimes the best direction you can give an actor is just to “listen more.”

PROTECTING THE ACTOR’S PROCESS

Now that you know what to say to an actor, let’s talk more about how to say it. How do you do that? First, do it quietly. Take the actor aside. Do not shout at actors from the monitor. You may even want to disguise your move here by publicly asking the crew for some improvement in the shot, which they can work on while you talk to the actor. Why do we advise this? Because the paramount thing to realize about working with actors is: they are vulnerable. Why are they vulnerable? Because what they are doing, in giving a performance, is leaving themselves open to judgment—everyone’s judgment, not just the director’s. The actor knows that even the dolly grip is thinking, “Hmm, that was great.” Or “Hmm, that stank.” And ultimately, it is the audience who is judging his performance. You, the director, must protect your vulnerable actors. You must make actors feel safe from judgment so that they will give you their best work. How do they feel safe? When they know you will not let them look stupid. You will lead them to a truly felt and executed performance. You will not be intimidated by them, even if they are well-respected or famous. You will not let considerations of time and budget supersede what is most important: their performance.

 

 

You may have great camerawork, but without great performance, that’s just technical virtuosity. It is not storytelling. It is not directing. Ridley Scott, who has directed visually compelling films like Gladiator and Black Hawk Down, discussed that in DGA Quarterly: “I don’t want to upstage what I’ll be doing by having a tracking camera and cranes and shit because I’ve got two great actors talking to each other across the table. Leave it. Let it be.”² You will focus on your actors’ performances and help them to make it great. And that means you won’t let them get away with less than their personal best—you will call them on it when their work can be better. And if they’re really trying hard but not getting it, you will find the right words to help them get there.

Use your intuition to gauge how much or how little help an actor needs. Sometimes the mark of a great director is one who knows to just be quiet and leave well enough alone. Director Woody Allen is one of those. He said, in talking about his technique in directing actors, “I try never to talk to them. There’s no point. You have Anthony Hopkins, what am I going to say to him? I hire them to get out of their way. They made great movies before me, they’ll make great movies after me, and I just don’t want to mess them up.”³ Tantamount to your decision should be your assessment if the actor wants or needs guidance. Some actors just want to do it and not talk about it. The great Spencer Tracy, in his very modest way, described the job of an actor this way: “Know your lines and don’t bump into any furniture.” If an actor has the craft of a Spencer Tracy, our advice might be: “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” But if it is “broke,” use the actors’ vocabulary to help her find her way to that wonderful performance. Be aware that you can’t do this—you can’t make a film or a TV show—without actors and that they are to be respected and cherished. They are not pawns to be moved about on your set. They are your generous and collaborative partners, bringing their creativity to help you tell the story.

 

 

1. “Meryl Streep Quotes,” Brainy Quotes, retrieved February 11, 2011, from http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/m/meryl_streep.html.

2. Turan, Kenneth, “Man of Vision,” DGA Quarterly, Fall 2010, pp. 30–37.

3. Olsen, Mark, “Woody Allen Is Already Thinking Beyond ‘You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger,’” Los Angeles Times, September 21, 2010, Sec D.)