The Great Acting Blog: “Self Direction, First Principles”

“no matter how good a phrase or a simile he may have, if he [the writer] puts it in where it is not absolutely necessary and irreplaceable he is spoiling his work for egotism.” Ernest Hemingway, Death In The Afternoon.

This week, I broke one of my cardinal rules of work, by bursting into laughter during a scene when laughter was not necessarily required. Now, that’s not really the problem, I dealt with it and kept moving the scene along, and afterall, my laughing was organic and therefore the truth of the moment, even if it wasn’t the intention of the script. However, the real problem was that not only was I the author of the script, and not only was I directing the film, but I also tasked myself with editing the film. Those of you who have been reading this blog recently, will know that I did some editing alone for the first time the other day (I had previously worked alongside editors) , and now have a taste for it, and am finding any excuse to do some more. Anyway, we had done about eight takes of the scene we shot that day, and the last take was perfect, fulfilling precisely the intentions of the script, it was exactly what we were going for. However, the previous take was the one where I laughed, and I wanted to choose that take for the film, not the eighth take which was perfect. Now, usually, I am extremely good at self-direction*, I pride myself on truthful, rational self-criticism of my work in the service of improving it, and therefore improving the play or film at hand, and further, I have excellent insight into my own processes, even to the extent that it is very difficult for a director to improve my work outside of the basic technical demands of the scene (changes to blocking, adjustments in storytelling etc), I am a low maintenance actor. So, if this is true, then why include in the film moments of my performance which give it the lie, and therefore weaken the film? Because the decision was borne of sentimentality and not referring to the through-action of the film, the first principle of the film. I chose to include the laughing take because it was cute and likeable, superficial and easily digestible, as oppose to the way the scene was intended: mysterious and unusual, provocative, which may not mean a cosy experience for the viewer, but a richer one. Thankfully, my good friend and colleague, Ryan Matthews, convinced me I had made the wrong decision, and that yes, the eighth take, the one without the laughing, was the one that best served the needs of the film. Of course he was right, and my self-respect was restored once I had changed my decision, my time as a begging-to-be-liked-poodle mercifully came to an end. Next time, I will prepare more thoroughly and be more vigilant to ensure I don’t lapse into feeble-mindedness. You know, if this had been in the theatre and I burst into laughing on stage one night, it wouldn’t enter my mind to do it again the next.

*1) in this sense, an actor editing a film he is in, is also directing it, because he is choosing what should be included and excluded. 2) I believe confident self-direction by an actor is unusual, many actors I know are terrified of performing without first having worked on the piece with a director.