Michael Laskin Studio

Metaphysical: an idea, doctrine, or reality outside of human perception.

Speaking of metaphysical, I was fortunate to work with Johnny Depp when he was a kid on several episodes of the original “21 Jump Street” – the series that launched him.  On my first episode, we shot our scenes, and I saw nothing out of the ordinary that would indicate what was in store. However, when I watched our work onscreen, I was blown away.  I saw things in Johnny’s work that I simply did not see face-to-face when we shot our scenes.  Things that amazed me.  The camera revealed the scene quite differently than my perception of it as we shot it in real time.  They say perception is reality, but not when the camera and Johnny Depp were involved. That was a huge lesson.  The camera simply revealed him – he didn’t do much and didn’t have to.  Johnny had something special, even then, and he knew it.  And he had the good sense to really work at becoming an artist – mating the magic he naturally possessed in front of the camera with real skill. Johnny has a metaphysical relationship to the camera – it was simply outside my perception.  As they say, the camera “loved” him.  I was a mere mortal.  But the lesson was enormous.

From the screen back to the stage…….

I was recently in Las Vegas appearing in a play (a contradictory statement, I know….).  Not just any play, but an old-fashioned “well made” play where the words are paramount, the characters rich, and the set-ups and pay-offs are as carefully crafted as a Swiss watch.  This wonderful play is the 1948 Broadway hit, “Light Up The Sky” – written by the immortal Moss Hart. We had the advantage of being directed by Moss Hart’s son, Christopher Hart who knows this play at a cellular level.  He deeply understands the world that the characters inhabit;  he simply knows how it’s supposed to go. He understands not only where the laughs are, but also the quality of the laughs – laughs that illuminate the characters, the situation, and the world they inhabit. Acting in this play is like riding a thoroughbred horse:  the horse knows where it’s going, and you are along for the ride…..a great ride.  It’s witty, funny, brilliantly crafted, and full of heart (not to mention Hart).

Getting back onstage was “just like riding a bike” – it’s true. It’s a blood memory: the sensation of a live audience, knowing when to move and when to remain still and throw focus to others, feeling when to come in with your next line just as the laugh peaks – driving the play forward. You are enveloped in a living organism (an ensemble of actors), and you are a functioning part of the glistening machinery of this well-made, well acted and well spoken play. And it all happens in real time – tightrope walking without a net!  No time or room for, “can I try that again?”. One of our cast members said it’s like going to “actor’s re-hab”, a place to rediscover yourself, and return to those original impulses and instincts that sparked a love of acting in the first place.

This world of the theatre is where I came from when I arrived in Hollywood and first appeared on film.  This was all pre-Johnny Depp, pre- metaphysical.

A confession: I was honestly stunned at how bad I was when I first saw my work onscreen in those early days. I did not have enough respect for the art of film acting. I shared a certain snobbery about the theatre that a lot of us felt back then – a lot of us who had never tried acting on camera. But when I saw myself onscreen, everything I did looked pushed, fake, and worst of all….mediocre.  I began to realize that this film acting thing was VERY different from the world of the stage.  It was more difficult than I had imagined, and without the immediate feedback of a live audience – it felt more lonely, more artistically solitary.  I was motivated by pride, and the desire to never be seen as that mediocre again.  Fortunately I worked in film and TV a great deal after arriving here, and learned on the job.  I made it a point to watch the really good film actors I was privileged to work with; how they played the close-up, how they effortlessly channelled their true selves into each moment, how they creatively managed their down time between takes, how they stayed alive and imaginative at the end of a 14 hour work day.  I gladly attended the “school” of Jack Warden, Robert Duvall, Johnny Depp, James Caan, David Straithern, Jeffrey Tambor, Brian Cox, and all the other great actors I took “lessons” from while watching them work.

This transition from stage to screen is something I know a lot about since it is my story as an actor. For the actor “burdened” with formal training, this can be difficult because most acting training is still theatre based.  But screen acting is essentially not like the work we do in the theatre – at least not as much as those of us who used to be theatre snobs thought.  ”It’s about the work!”, we proclaimed.  No, in fact, it’s about YOU.  And the work. Theatre training is great for the deep examination of the text (an essential skill for stage or screen), for understanding the use of your body and voice, and for teaching you to be a collaborative fellow artist  - all very important things, to be sure. But remember this: the theatre rewards you for becoming someone else entirely. The screen, however, rewards you for being….you.  The true you.  The real you.  The revealed you.

Here’s the bottom line:  the theatre allows you to show what you can do. Film allows you to reveal who you are.

And therein lies the difference.  And film reveals this whether you like it or not.  So you must get on with knowing yourself, and liking yourself.  You must get on with being more of yourself.  The camera does not lie in this regard.

The rewardable virtue in the theatre is to disappear into the role – to transform.  But the rewardable virtue on film is to reveal something  of yourself – because they actually want YOU, not some character.  YOU are enough, as long as it’s a real, fully examined you. Possessing a wide range (something most actors strive for) often confuses the powers that be in the world of the screen.  If they need someone who does an Irish accent, they’ll get an Irishman – regardless of your ability to convincingly play Irish. Simply being you is not easy, and it still requires smart strategy, strong choices, and skill. Actors who always play a version of themselves are onto something. All that outward energy that the theatre requires usually reads false onscreen.  All those wonderful theatre skills are often trumped by an indelible sense of self when the camera is rolling. That’s why Jonah Hill, for instance, wouldn’t be a very good Hamlet – but he’s the best, imperfect, odd, funny, Jonah Hill that there is.  He has a world-view that we, as the audience, know in the blink of an eye.  That world-view is revealed because he has no artifice. He is completely comfortable with himself, with being himself, with his persona being the lens through which we see the story unfolding. He has a definite lack of traditional theatre-based actor skills. He is an extreme example of an indelible sense of self triumphing over traditional skills.  And, he’s growing as an actor as well in case you hadn’t noticed. He makes it look easier than it probably is, in reality.  He faces the same obstacles we all do when working, but he just doesn’t have the added burden of thinking he needs to be anyone else.

As thrilling as being onstage is, screen acting is exciting in a completely different way.  The opportunity to be absolutely real, with no artifice, was liberating to me when I finally found that sweet spot.  Study the great naturalistic actors: Spencer Tracy, Joel McCrea, Jimmy Stewart, Gary Cooper, Robert Duvall, Tom Hanks, Jeff Bridges. They all play versions of themselves – to great effect.  ”All they do is play themselves” – another sour battle-cry from the sidelines. Try it.  It’s not easy, and it does not preclude anyone from being a great actor.

I recently introduced the camera into my acting class, and it reminded me (and taught my students) that the camera finds moments that we are not even aware of.  It reveals unplanned moments – or if we have the gift – metaphysical moments. Accidents can be a terror when onstage in front of a live audience.  These “accidents” can make film work more dynamic. Accidents are opportunities. Imperfection is what interests us and draws us in.  The human condition can be illuminated with merely a thought on camera.  Instead of playing a 2 hour story arc every night at 8 pm, we are playing a small real moment in that arc. Once you can get your head around the fact that you don’t have to be anyone else really, the whole thing opens up and can be very freeing.  To be sure there is creative strategy involved in film acting – I would never imply otherwise.  You do have to create a “roadmap” for your work, but also be open to take an interesting detour should the opportunity arise. When we can see the pores of your skin onscreen, we can also read your soul, your heart, your life-force – all in the blink of an eye.  If you let us.

Rehearsing and performing in this play (this well-made play) has been a joyous experience – one that reminded me that in the theatre we meticulously prepare and craft each moment, each laugh, each turn, each exit. We leave little to chance. We create the super-structure of the performance, within which we can play.  There is an accepted level of artifice that is a pact between the audience and the actors – even in a realistic play.  This is the craft of it.  And if the structure we build with our craft is strong, there is room for art.

The art and pursuit of  truth in acting is endless.  We can find it onstage at 8 pm, we can find it in an office on the Sony lot at 4:30 pm, and we can find it on location in front of a camera lens – a lens that sees right into us. The camera, and our relationship to it is metaphysical.  As actors, we plan and strategize as we prepare our work, but the camera ends up revealing other things we did not plan - things outside of our perception. That’s the magic, that’s the fun, that’s the terror, and that’s what makes film acting, at its very best, so wonderful and surprising.

Embrace yourself.  You will find many rewards within.