What Do I Want This Person to Understand about Me?
"In 'real life' the mother begging for her child's life, the criminal begging for a pardon, the atoning lover pleading for one last chance—these people give no attention whatever to their own state, and all attention to the state of that person from whom they require their object."
—David Mamet
Have you ever been pulled over by a cop on the highway? Reminisce for a moment or two how your behavior changed. Every move you made was careful: how you reached for your purse or wallet to get out your license, how you opened the glove compartment to locate the car registration. You spoke in a respectful tone of voice. Internally, you may have been anxious, but you didn't want that to show. Perhaps there was something in the car that you didn't want the police to see, like an open bottle of beer. Maybe you had several outstanding parking tickets or you knew you were speeding. Perhaps you hoped you would be let off with a warning instead of a ticket. Maybe you tried to be friendly, funny, or seem responsible, or you played dumb or expressed remorse in order to get a favor in return and be allowed to continue on your way with the least hassle and delay. This is an example of how behavior changes depending on the object of your attention, and what you want this person to understand about you to accomplish a specific result.
Now change the cop in your imaginary scenario to your elderly grandmother. How would you speak to her if she was the object of your attention? What about your six-year old son... or your fifteen-year old son? How about your lover—or a man or woman you are attracted to? What about your former wife or husband? How would you speak and behave to all of these individuals? Partly it depends on your subjective point of view about them; meaning, your feelings. But doesn't it also depend upon the circumstances in which you find yourself; meaning, what you need?
For the purpose of auditioning on camera, there are two pieces of information—of knowledge—that you need to draw forth from the script, which will help you quickly and clearly establish and bring to life your character's relationship with anyone in a scene. As you continue your Sherlock Holmesing, you must ask and answer:
What does this person mean to me (my character)? Implicit in this question is the idea of your character's relationship to this person: my boss, my best friend, my arch rival, my stalker, my doctor, my potential investor, my interrogator.
What do I want/need this person to understand about me? Implicit in this question is the idea of your character's objective in the scene: to impress, to comfort, to win, to evade, to get help, to be approved, to go free.
As an actor, knowing who you are speaking to is essential because it causes your behavior to shift accordingly. In Part Two, when we explore how to craft your audition, we'll go into the process of working imaginatively in order to find the exact significance of the people, places, things, and events you identify in the script, and bring this to life in the way you respond to them. That is a skill known as personalization. Who is this person to you? What does he or she mean to your character? Once you pick it, you can daydream about it. We'll talk more about personalization in Chapter 9, "Find Reasons to Feel."
Here, since you are still ferreting out the clues in your script, do your best to remain in the curious, intuitive, and analytical modes until you can answer this chapter's leading question: What do I want this person to understand about me? Not only do you want to determine if the script says you are speaking to your mother, for instance, but also that you want your mother to understand that you're not a child any longer... or that you respect her... or that you will take care of her now that she's old... and so forth.
In every scene you do for an audition, you need to know exactly who the object of your attention is, for your primary reason to do this scene is to cause this person—the object of your attention—to understand something specific about you. You must capture the other character in the web you are spinning for the purpose of achieving this goal of being understood—like a spider would a fly. That is where the scene takes place.
Some actors approach the capture of other actors in an almost adversarial manner. Before shooting a particular scene for a film, Sean Penn is reported to have remarked about a fellow actor, "I am going to eat him for lunch." I believe Penn knows about the web.
Russian actor/director Konstantin Stanislavski, whose method is the foundation of modern acting, had an expression he used to describe the importance of the interaction between actors; he called it the "magic circle." Within this circle, imaginary life—a full-blown reality—can be created. If you want magic to occur in your audition, you must create such a circle with your reader. This is a sacrosanct dimension in which it is best if you commit to working only to please yourself and fulfill your own sense of truth. When you do so, this makes the producers of the project feel secure about your work.
Your Reader Is Your Lifeline
The foundational reason to do a scene is because of who that other person is to you (think: the reader's character). It does not matter who, in reality, is sitting in that chair opposite you in the audition room; it could be a man or a woman, a flat-voiced reader or an animated reader. Just aim to capture the reader and do your audition for him or her. Even if this individual doesn't give you the ideal reading that you're hoping for, if you're committed to being understood in a specific way in the scene you're performing your intent will come across on screen. The camera records your every thought.
Though the theatrical instinct of actors trained in stage craft is to play to all of the people in the room, in an on-camera film or TV audition, in point of fact this propensity is counterproductive because the camera that is filming you is always recording you and, thus, the viewer is taking you in from the reader's perspective. So it is important to ignore any observers who are present, and put your focus and energy where it truly matters.
Never look away from your reader. Never look up or to the side except to look at a specific object or person that is referred to in the script: a clock, the moon or stars, God, your fairy godmother, the CIA agent who is tailing you—or for remembering. (Of course, you don't always have to look away for memory; it's just a choice.) It is best only to do this once in a scene—at maximum. Otherwise, keep your eyes locked on the reader. Glancing away is a behavior that will make your character come across as nervous, shifty, or disengaged. Personality is communicated behaviorally. The reader is your lifeline because you can always return to your knowledge about this person, and the camera will perceive it.
Susan Sarandon reportedly said, "Our job is to unzip ourselves for the camera." Close-ups allow us to crawl into your interior, and an audition is always a close-up on you. If you look away, you block our access to your emotions—or, in other words, fail to "unzip."
Most actors lose their auditions in only the first ten or twelve seconds after the camera starts rolling because that's how long it takes to create a first impression—if that long. But if you are clear about who you are speaking to right away, in the first moment at the very beginning of your scene, the people listening to you and watching you will know it. And if the old adage is true that "cream rises to the top," then you want to be specific enough in your acting choices to eventually become the "cream" of the film and TV industry.
Name the Object of Your Character's Attention
No matter what gender your reader is, or what position this person holds in real life (director, producer, leading actor), your reader has to become what you need him or her to become for the sake of your audition. You will respond and act toward your reader according to who you make the reader in your imagination. Ultimately the reality of the reader to you will be based upon the suggestion of the text. The fact of who this person is will not be an emotional decision; it is provided by the screenwriter. Just know it.
This is my father.
This is my boss.
This is my girlfriend.
This is my surgeon.
This is my business partner.
You should be looking for clues that define the nature of the relationship as well. It is your father who brutalized you as a child. It is your boss who drinks and passes out on the jobsite. It is your girlfriend who is pregnant and wants to get married. It is the surgeon who saved your life. It is your business partner who has been embezzling from you. Later on, facts like these will make it easier to craft imaginatively and to generate emotion.
Then, take a next step. Give the object of your reading a name that stirs up some life in you. Write down this name at the top of your script to remind you to let it be the very thing you think whenever you look at the reader. Be like a child on the playground calling another kid a name ("Hey, don't call me that!"). The name you pick should be a human universal, a thought everyone can immediately recognize on your face if you think it, such as, "Asshole!" Or, if the object of your reading is supposed to be a handsome man, in the margin of your script you might write: "Mr. McSteamy." And it could even be a sound, like: "Mmm. Mmm. Mmm," "Awww," "Grrr," or "Yuck."
Remember, whatever you choose, the meaning of that name for your reader is there for you to call up at the beginning of your scene, and again throughout the remainder of your scene. Knowing this name can be especially helpful during moments of listening.
A little trick you can employ when you're auditioning is to silently add this name to the end of every line: "Hi there (asshole)." "What did you have for breakfast (asshole)?" Try that out in a rehearsal to see if you like the quality it adds to your delivery.
You'll know you found the right name when it changes your physicality. This isn't something you can fake—or would ever need to. Muscles hold memory. If you're relaxed and allow yourself to be affected by the input of your thoughts, your body responds. This is so simple a technique that describing it is, in fact, more complicated than doing it.
Having found your answer for the first question, "What does this person mean to me (my character)?" it's time to begin sleuthing clues in the script that address the matter of the second question, "What do I want/need this person to understand about me?"
Find Your Character's Through-line
Your through-line in any scene you play is going to be that which you want to be understood about you. Usually the clue to what this is can be found on the last page of the sides or toward the end of the scene. Almost all scenes in movies and TV shows start where they end conceptually. They are economical and have small developmental arcs. They are also archetypal: There are white hats (good guys) and black hats (bad guys). Relationships are simple: Dialogues take place between husband and wife, mother and son, lawyer and client, brother and sister, lover and beloved. What you want will be something evident. And by the end of the scene either you'll get it or you won't.
A cop interrogating a criminal, for example, might want the criminal to understand: "I will never stop pursuing your case until I have enough evidence to put you behind bars forever." The criminal in reverse might want the cop to understand: "You can't hold me."
Can you see how those two characters are having a contest where both cannot win? That's one important source of the dramatic tension in their relationship.
If your character ever says, "I need…" then you may have already found the very thing that your character wants to be understood. Sometimes it is communicated by the lines. But often it is left unsaid. This desire underlies all of your behavior in the scene.
According to the American Film Institute, for screenwriters, the "dramatic through-line of a script encompasses the premise and all the obstacles the protagonist will face."ref_1 Their job is to hinder characters (protagonists and antagonists alike) from getting what they want so that the audience of filmgoers or TV viewers can have the pleasure of watching them struggle to overcome their obstacles. But you, as an actor, are not fulfilling the same function as a screenwriter. For actors, the through-line of the scene is linked to the super-objective of what the character needs to accomplish in life. You aren't working to serve the needs of the script, but of your character's reality.
What's the difference between an objective and a through-line? In one scene from a typical script, a criminal is detained at the police station and then released because a judge has ruled some evidence—perhaps a gun—inadmissible in court. For the moment the cop's objective to arrest the criminal is frustrated. Nonetheless the through-line of being understood as "never stopping the chase" can be successfully accomplished.
Having a desire to be understood is not the same as having an objective. An objective leads a character to take action—to do things in the moment—whereas a through-line leads to thoughts: signs of knowledge behind the eyes that can be picked up by the camera. An objective is to make an arrest, by questioning, fingerprinting suspects, interviewing witnesses, and so forth. A through-line runs on a parallel track.
The through-line is always going to be a universal human need that is present within a character. And for the purpose of an audition, let's agree that this need will always be about the people in the scene and their relationship to each other rather than about the plot. Through-line explains why your character does and says things. It also explains what motivates your character to pursue certain objectives, which is why it is related to the super-objective—or the overriding goal that must be met by the end of the script.
In a well-written script the super-objective will be the reason that your character gets embroiled in any dramatic conflict. The need for this objective is a source of tension in every scene due to your character's circumstances: meaning, who you are, where you are, what has already happened, and who you are speaking to—all of that great information you've been pulling out of the script.
How do you find your character's super-objective? Simple. Work backwards from the conflict. If you can't find a conflict, then the script sucks. Invent one. Pick something.
An actable need could be: "I need you to see that I am better than you."
Once you discover what you want to be understood, you can run the scene and add a line stating the need to the tail end of your other lines as an exercise, like I suggested you do with the name you selected for the reader. Go through the script line by line, and after every line add the need as a mantra. Say it aloud. Notice how it colors your lines.
"Hi, I am Bob (and I am better than you)."
"Let's go to court (because I am better than you)."
You can practice this exercise at home as a rehearsal and go even deeper with the choice in your crafting. While Sherlock Holmesing the script, however, your main goal is to identify whether your chosen need rings true as an objective for your character.
On companion DVD 1 to this book, you can watch actors demonstrate the preceding exercise of specifying what their characters want the other person to understand about them. Pay attention to the nuances of their physical behavior and vocal tones as they say the through-line aloud after each line of dialogue, and observe how those behaviors and tones remain in the subsequent reading that they do when it is implied, but not said aloud. Go to: TimPhillipsStudio.com/dvd.
Remember, it is essential to hit the notes that the screenwriter wrote. That matters! Your delivery in the audition—the emotional color you ultimately give to the lines—may not be the delivery that the writer originally intended, however, like a musician playing a piece of music you cannot leave out any notes that were scored for you by the composer. You cannot ignore the composition of the script and hope to give a successful audition.
Ideally, your need to be understood in a particular way by the person opposite you in a scene will be powerful because it is urgent as well as specific. Before your audition you have to know exactly what your character thinks is going to happen if you don't get what you want, as this knowledge heightens the dramatic tension of a scene considerably.
In the next chapter, we'll explore urgency and the matter of what's at stake.
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