Oh, stop right there! Don’t ever think you don’t need the actors on set to place the camera. I’m telling you. Even if the star sends word that they’ll stand wherever you tell them, don’t believe it. They will screw you. They’re not evil, they’re not out to cause a problem; it’s like the scorpion and the frog, it’s just in their nature. When you’re all lit and they get called to the set, they’re guaranteed to look at the mark you set for them and say, “No, I wouldn’t stand there.” Argue with them you will… and lose, you will. Now you’ll have to wait through a little relight, a big loss of momentum, and a couple of layers of enamel being ground off your teeth.
If you think I’m kidding, you have been warned.
Instead, get to the set early. Forty-five minutes before call ought to do it. Go to the makeup trailer and corner sleepy actors in their chairs. What you’ll talk about doesn’t have to start out with anything more than a “Good morning, did you sleep okay?” kind of hello. Then look in their eyes. What do you see? Relaxed people? Confident people?
Do you see frozen grimaces? Thousand-yard stares? Their eyes will tell you all you need to know. The grimace and the “deer in the headlights” looks are sure signs they’re worried about the day’s work. No matter how confident they looked on other days, today’s scene is probably the scene that scares them. This is when you get to play therapist, coach, and friend.
Very importantly, never neglect the day player who is there for only one or two scenes. They are more nervous than anybody. They may only have one line, but they are Jell-O inside. They probably don’t know the other actors. If you got to audition with them, you at least are a friendly face. You are their lifeline. Ask them how they see their scenes today. Of course, they will try to do it any way you want, but ask for their thoughts. They’ve agonized over it quite a bit and may, just may, have something worthwhile to contribute. They are a collaborator, too. You cast them because they had a good handle on the part. Take advantage of what they bring to the party. Listen to them.
“How are you feeling about the scene today?” is always a safe question. “When you were thinking about the work last night, how did you see playing it?” You hope their vision agrees with yours. If their thought is different from yours, there are three possibilities:
1. It’s really interesting, and you can use it with your idea or instead of your idea.
2. It actually is the same idea, just spoken in different words.
3. It’s a terrible idea for any number of reasons.
Whatever you do, don’t panic. Remember, this is just a discussion, not a demand. Most of the time, it’s an idea that the actor thought of last night or this morning and just wants to discuss. The best thing you can do is listen with interest. You want to stay open-minded and keep remembering the thought, “What if it’s a good idea?” At this point, without showing any sweat, you can reply, “That’s really interesting, I never thought of it that way before. Tell me more.” Whether the actor’s idea is good or bad, say something like that, but always focus the actor on the action.
Elia Kazan: What you talk about is what they want out of a scene—why they are going into it. You keep them concentrated on the “objective.” If you do that, at least you’ll have clarity. If you talk about what the character is feeling, you’ll get nothing but simulated emotion.6
Let the actor explain themself before you stupidly jump in and say, “That’s wrong. That’ll never work.” Why? Because if you jump on their idea without at least looking like you’re considering it, they will get defensive. When actors get defensive, they get emotional. When they get emotional, their egos get in the way. When their egos get in the way, there is no talking to them. Reason has flown south, and the chill of winter descends. You have to allow the actor time to express themself and really hear them out before you say, “Wow, that’s so interesting because I had thought it might play this other way. Tell me more.” Now you hopefully have a dialogue going, a dialogue that will lead to understanding between the two of you, not a monologue from you, Ozymandias, all-powerful director. An understanding that should be about trying to find the best version of what you’re both thinking.
John Rich: On All in the Family, we’d read the script line by line, and anybody who had a question could speak up. Sometimes I’d say, “Does that make sense to you?” If they said, “No, not really,” I’d ask, “What would you say instead?” Some writers were very upset by that. But I got tremendous performances. When we were staging, I never told them how or when to move on a line. “Find your own way, I’ll help if you get tangled up.” Paying attention to any actor’s instincts really brings out the best in them. They are so much happier than one who’s been told to stand here, move there.
Remember, we’re talking about actors who don’t trust directors, actors who are used to being run over roughshod by directors. You always have to ask yourself, “What if they’re right? What if there is something here I can use?” If an actor’s idea is harmful, you need to search for clues about what’s really bothering them. So “Tell me more about how you see the scene” is not just pampering them and manipulating them through the process; it’s the therapist’s time-tested way of getting to the bottom of the problem.
Very often, it can come down to something very minor in the scene, like a stage direction or a wardrobe or prop choice. Even a particular line of dialogue can throw an actor off. That’s why I love having the writer on the set. Actors respect writers. A writer can tell the actor the very same thing you just said, and the actor takes it positively, whereas they may think the director is shining them on.
Isn’t it better to have this conversation privately before you get to the set? Of course it is. It’s not a public forum. Don’t give sensitive notes in front of other actors or crew. It’s embarrassing to the actor and often blows up on the director. A private conversation is always less stressful and less likely to cause a pissing contest.
Patty Jenkins: The most important thing that I try to seek out is a few moments, whether in person or on the phone, to sit and talk through the script with the actors. “Here’s why I see this happening. Here’s where I see the turn. I felt like so-and-so would be angry here. What do you think?” “Well, I was thinking that they are angry, and that they’d hide it.” “Oh, very interesting.” So that you at least are completely on the same page about what performance you’re trying to achieve: “Okay, we agree.” So now you’re not fighting that out on set. You’re not standing on set saying, “I think I’d walk over here.” And if you’re arguing about a deeper-level issue, you can sit and talk, and try to get on the same page before shooting begins.
By listening, you not only get the actors’ thoughts, but you have an enormous relaxing effect. They get to see your face, not just on the set amongst a horde of other faces. They get to see it up close and personal. You’re there to ask about them, not to give orders. Suggestions, maybe, but not orders.
A while ago, I took my wife to the hospital for a procedure that, though not a humongous deal, would scare anybody. She was no exception. As she lay on the gurney in the pre-op room, her heart ran a two-minute mile. Soothing words from me had little effect.
After a few minutes, the anesthesiologist came in, gowned for the procedure. He introduced himself and paid attention to her as though she were the only person in the world. Nothing much was said beyond “How do you feel?” and “Do you have any questions?” and “We’ll take good care of you.” He said he’d see her in a few minutes and traipsed off to the operating room. The change in her breathing and heart rate was beyond dramatic. It dropped like a stone, and a smile returned to her face. When they wheeled her into the operating room, she was as calm as calm could be.
Afterword: The procedure was successful, and