My acting class was a little weird last night. We had two people auditing, which means they were observing the class for one night to decide whether or not they will enroll. I’m not crazy about audits because the usual attitude is, “I’m looking for reasons not to invest my time and money in this. Go ahead and justify my skepticism.” Auditors tend not to be impressed by the small steps taken by regular class members on any given night. I guess they’re hoping that somebody of currently limited ability– like them– will get up, be given a few adjustments, and suddenly transform into an Academy Award-winning actor. When this inevitably doesn’t happen, they decide to look elsewhere, and ultimately decide they are above training. See my post on excuses.
After the auditors had (rudely) left class early the energy in the room became much more positive. Nobody felt a need to impress– we felt a need to grow as artists, which is why we take class in the first place.
As we returned to the work my teacher began directing one of my fellow students and I made a behavioral observation that is, I think, extremely important.
The student had completed her scene and was now being directed. She felt a great need to explain her work and the choices she had made. This is extremely common– I used to do it all the time and now, happily, only do it a little. As artists we want to justify our work in the face of criticism. This may be an ingrained response created by our society, in which being right all the time has so much value. The problem is that this automatic defense mechanism sometimes closes us off from extremely important and valuable communications.
My teacher could not teach the student, because the student did not wish to be taught. She wanted to justify her position.
Imagine that you watch a performance. It is bad, and you know it. After the performance is over the actors ask what you thought, and you express your dissatisfaction. Then the actors begin explaining what they were doing, why they made the choices they made, what was going on inside of them, what they were thinking about while they were performing, what they were feeling, what they were trying to achieve. Is there anything they could possibly say that would make you re-think your opinion of their performance? Of course not! The justification is an exercise in futility.
Once upon a time a woman called me to enquire about a special intensive TVI was offering in which she would receive written evaluations from several major casting directors. While explaining the nature of the intensive I mentioned that I would be happy to meet with her afterwards to go over the evaluation with her. The woman immediately became quite defensive: what are my qualifications? why should she give a fig what “some TVI person” (her words!) has to say? She began quoting to me from her (very limited) resume, and at one point actually had the nerve to ask if my professional accomplishments were anywhere near hers (for the record, they weren’t; mine were far more advanced).
It’s a pity she didn’t take me up on the offer. I could have helped her enormously, but she obviously wasn’t interested in help. She was interested in feeling superior to somebody else. I wonder how her career is doing, and how many people she’s pissed off recently.
As actors it is imperative that we be aware of when our defense mechanisms flare up. As a veteran of this sort of self-examination I can promise you that it often happens without our being aware of it. This requires a serious effort on our part. I know it can be very difficult to open oneself up to critical analysis– it’s part of the reason why the acting teacher / acting student relationship requires a very special rapport. But if we refuse to trust and listen to others, if we refuse to change, if we only pursue that which we can already do, we will never grow.
And neither will our craft, and neither will our careers.
