Through an introduction from my friend Eleni Kiamos, who had become an assistant to Lee Strasberg, I was given an interview. I remember sitting alone with him in his study, and he asked me what actors I admired. I said, “Montgomery Clift, Marlon Brando, and Paul Muni, in his early work.” Mr. Strasberg looked at me for the first time and invited me to join his class, I believe because he agreed Mr. Muni was better—less elaborate—in his early work.
Again, I saw no real point in attempting to take an imaginary shower to develop our so-called sensory abilities, but I chose not to say anything. I also didn’t understand the emphasis on relaxation exercises. For me, the way to relax is to try to connect to the character and what he’s all about and find that person in myself. That will give you something to think about other than the audience, which is the best way to relax. I’d rate that as a much better idea than to essentially try to fall asleep in a chair, which is how a lot of teachers teach relaxation, but I chose not to question Mr. Strasberg. Maybe I was finally getting tired of being kicked out. Or maybe it was because I never received any abuse from Mr. Strasberg. I believe that an exercise that is essentially getting you relaxed enough to fall asleep in a chair is only useful if you’d like to be able to fall asleep in a chair.
Here’s an acting exercise I would use if I ever taught, which I won’t. I would instruct: Take a bottle of water and empty it into a tall glass, holding it over the glass until absolutely the final drop goes in. The concentration and focus required to be sure you’ve got that last drop is what’s needed in acting.
I would never be interested in teaching acting because to teach suggests that acting is a viable profession to pursue. If kids realized the tiny percentage of people who make a living in show business, at least half the acting schools and drama departments might have to close up shop.
Confidence is an absolute necessity for anyone who appears in front of a camera or large groups of people, and it’s certainly necessary to be prepared in every way to have that confidence. It’s startling to me how many actors underestimate the importance of being absolutely confident of knowing their lines. Amazingly, in ten years of studying acting I never heard any teacher say that. Some actors believe it’s not in their interest to know the lines too soon—they feel it will lead to an interpretation before they’re ready. When I say learn the lines early and thoroughly, I’m not talking about interpretation but in the way you would learn to count to ten. The interpretation can come whenever you want, or when the director asks for it. Some English directors insist you show up for the first day of rehearsal knowing the lines. Good idea.
I was obviously getting better, because Mr. Strasberg astonishingly would cite what I was doing as an example of what to do. Once I missed class, and the next week he came over to me and asked if I was okay. That was extraordinary, because in my experience, Lee Strasberg was not a person who reached out. The two most socially uncomfortable people I’ve ever met are Lee Strasberg and Woody Allen.
I studied with Mr. Strasberg from 1959 to 1962. He must have had thousands of students over the years, and yet in 1975, thirteen years since I had last seen him, on opening night on Broadway of Same Time, Next Year, a two-character play I did with Ellen Burstyn, Lee Strasberg was the first person in my dressing room after the show. He said, “You were very good.” I asked, “You remember me?” He said, “Of course I do.”
After signing a letter saying if I was invited I would accept, I was then invited to join the Actors Studio. It’s ironic that the Actors Studio protected itself from rejection, while its members have to deal with it unrelentingly.