There is nothing an actor can act that is richer than who and what the actor is. The work is not about an actor becoming the character; it's about the actor knowing that the character will become whatever the actor brings to it. The more actors can open up and be psychologically available to themselves, the more surprises they will offer audiences.
Yet the "opening up" process is a delicate one. It must be handled by acting teachers with extreme sensitivity, including some awareness of psychology and, equally important, enough care for the actor that he or she comes to class with a trust and willingness to do the work.
During my 38 years as a professional acting teacher in New York, I have encountered too many actors who have been emotionally hurt by teachers and mentors who feel they must strip actors of their ego and rebuild them—or worse, prey upon their neuroses. The truth is it's very difficult to rebuild an actor's ego—their self-esteem, their self-image—when others have deliberately sought to destroy it. And in any event, teachers should not function as therapists or surrogate parents; it's dangerous to establish or encourage such classroom relationships. Exploring the craft of acting should be a "sane obsession," not a process of mining neuroses as a creative tool.
Strasberg, of course, believed that digging into one's personal life was the key to building a character; he encouraged actors to internalize everything before they externalized it. Other prophets of the craft, such as Sanford Meisner, Stella Adler, and Robert Lewis, broke with Lee's theory, instead concentrating on developing "as if" techniques—asking actors to create realities by imagining themselves in given circumstances. Whichever technique an actor uses, what's important is that the actor use only experiences he or she has already resolved psychologically and emotionally. And it is the job of the teacher—or director—to recognize whether a particular place is a safe one for an actor to go to. Has the actor found closure? Can the actor visit a "source" objectively? Drawing on unresolved issues is apt to create a very unhealthy personal life for the actor; nine times out of ten, there's a direct line from such acting to neuroses.
A teacher, therefore, assumes enormous responsibility for creating a safe environment. It must be a nonjudgmental place, where actors can take risks but where they aren't forced to. At my studio, we employ various exercises to encourage actors to get in touch with themselves, to work deeply and with inner conviction, and to validate, ultimately, that the source for each character exists within the actor. We attempt to understand the "blocks" that stop actors from opening up to their feelings, so they can fulfill the requirements of all the roles they possess the potential to play.
And it is these "blocks" that teachers must be most sensitive to. In that safe, trusting atmosphere, they must help actors identify those blocks and determine how the actor should work on them in class so that breakthroughs can happen. In addition, perceptive teachers will also realize their own limitations in this area and, when necessary, know when to pull an actor aside and advise him or her to seek professional help. Many actors feel that therapy will take an edge off their talent, but I believe a good therapist will help them unlock unresolved issues, thus helping them access feelings and characters in a more healthy, objective way. The more actors understand what comprises their total being, the more energy they can put into their work and their instrument.
The reason actors need an objective connection to the feelings of their characters is because an effective performance requires more than merely an idea of the character. It's never very interesting or rewarding to watch an actor indicate an emotion, for it instantly distances the observer from the character and the material.
Let me illustrate one healthy way an actor can visit his or her own well of emotional and psychological experience to meet the demands of a character. Emotional recall (E.R.)—also called "affective memory" or "sense memory" and first developed by Stanislavsky and later reinterpreted by Strasberg—is an excellent tool to get inside a role that an actor may understand intellectually but that he or she has not directly experienced. E.R. is a great homework tool that frees the imagination from centering only on dialogue. It helps create a true-to-life response to the words.
Planning work on E.R. begins when I ask an actor to consult with me privately about a feeling or emotion that may present a problem in his or her work. An actor may say, "I know I could play this role, but the character is very vulnerable"—or shy, angry, silly, out of control, bounding with joy, or any other trait the actor wants to access—"and I always have problems with that." I ask the actor to select a moment from his or her life—a "traumatic moment" when he or she experienced one of the above-mentioned feelings. I ask the actor to pick an incident from at least seven years ago, preferably one from childhood. And in big, bold letters, I ask the actor to make sure the incident is something he or she is psychologically and emotionally resolved about—as opposed to one that he or she is trying to resolve or work on in therapy. Then we work through the exercise, helping the actor recall the incident through sensory detail, not just through the narration of a story. When successful, the actor will succeed in re-creating not only the event but also his or her age and response to the event at the time. All that information is stored in the subconscious, and reliving it with correct sensory guidance will release it.
For the actor to gain the most benefit from E.R., two more layers are added: doing an activity while keeping the sensory information in mind, and then applying the work to a monologue from a play with a similar climactic moment in it.
Having gotten through these steps, the actor is free to work from this recollection, to use it as a tool for an audition or performance, for the actor will now be able to control and place the emotional response into the desired moment without being dominated by unresolved feelings. Without this, the actor is responding through neurosis, and that is not acting or even creative; that is self-indulgent. Such indulgences become a wretched excess and are personally harmful to the actor.
An excellent example of what happens when actors respond from a neurotic place is found in Richard Schickel's Elia Kazan: A Biography. Kazan was perhaps the most brilliant director of his time, but as Schickel notes (and as Kazan noted in his autobiography, Elia Kazan: A Life), he was a master manipulator of actors, sparing no ruse to get the result he wanted. In working with James Dean on East of Eden, for example, Kazan played blatantly on Dean's unresolved relationship with his father. (Kazan also acknowledged he did not find Dean to be much of an actor, feeling he was greatly lacking in technique.) Instead of making psychologically healthy acting choices, Dean played his neuroses over and over in his performance. Did it work? Along with careful editing, yes. But how did it leave Dean?
A few examples of what I would not work on with an actor are: a recent death of a loved one; being beaten by a parent; childhood molestation; being mugged, abused, or raped; an awful accident; or trauma resulting from a war. A lot of actors come from broken homes or from alcoholic or abusive parents; they may have chosen acting as a means of escape from such environments. The issues and scars that remain are not necessarily safe areas to explore in an acting class.
Good and great actors reach out and touch us by what they give from themselves. They fill us with feelings and responses because they have generously and honestly connected with their own rich instrument. They accomplish this communication from a disciplined, organic center, not by presenting a psychodrama of neuroses. Good acting teachers must understand this and must be dedicated to helping actors understand the difference. Acting can be a wonderfully rewarding "sane obsession." But it should be a healthy journey, never a self-destructive one.
Terry Schreiber has been teaching and directing professionally since 1969 and is featured in Eva Mekler's The New Generation of Acting Teachers. He is the author of Acting: Advanced Techniques for the Actor, Director, and Teacher. For more information, visit www.tschreiber.com.