Once upon a Time I worked with a very lovely young girl – shall we call her Cordelia? She looked like a beautiful child out of a fairy story; flowing chestnut hair, cornflower blue eyes, luminous complexion, sculpted features, long graceful limbs – in other words, the whole nine yards. She was signed with a powerful manager, who was sending me a number of clients. Cordelia was destined for great things; there was only one problem, she couldn’t act very well. In spite of being ‘perfect for the part,’ she didn’t understand the scripts – not the way an actor does, from the inside – and she tried to match her acting to what she thought the adults were trying to get out of her. Unfortunately, that game doesn’t work. Monkey see, monkey do, creates a performance that looks exactly like, well… what the words imply.
Then, there’s the other teacher/student game; the ‘you’re not one of us unless you get this right’ routine. It implies superiority on the part of the teacher, not only in acting, but in everything – the guru syndrome. If played with determination and subtlety, children - many adults, as well – can be mesmerized into a kind of imitative behavior that passes for acting. To be honest, I’m not quite sure how it works, since I’m incapable of doing it – but one can see this sort of thing depicted in the Black Swan film. It’s a bit like the snake charmer routine, only in reverse; the snake charms the kid.
In the case of Cordelia, her manager wanted results. I was slowing things down too much. Large, lucrative roles were being lost while I ‘fooled around’ trying to find a genuine basis for this child’s acting. Often, in the case of a child who either isn’t cut out for acting or needs real training, but is instead being groomed for ‘commercial’ purposes, the child becomes insecure and angry. Cordelia was smart; she knew I wasn’t buying into the myth that she was a ‘great actress waiting to happen.’ She would do everything she could to get me off topic during our lessons, while thwarting all my attempts to get to know her with bland, stock responses. “My dad is so sweet! He’s taking us to Disney World next weekend. You know which rides I want to go on?”
In group classes, Cordelia created a competitive atmosphere by lavishing her friendship on the ‘cool’ ones, putting the younger and more vulnerable children into a pecking order and crushing the weakest. She managed to destroy the class and ruin my relationship with the manager. Of course, I wasnt thrilled with having her around, but I refrained from retaliating. Not because I’m a particularly nice person, but because it wouldn’t have done any good. Also, I’ve made it a hard and fast rule not to undermine a child or an adult, if I can help it. The only time I break that rule is when I lose my temper, but it’s direct and I fall all over myself apologizing afterwards.
One time, I taught two boys, brothers. Generally, I teach children who are at least eleven years old, but in this case they were eight and ten. Their mother tried to tell me how to do my job, praised the elder to the skies and tortured the younger. Both children were very talented; the elder could take any script and make something of it. He was born to act, and he cheerfully did what he was told. I had the impression that he didn’t care too much about acting, but enjoyed the privileges it gave him – and it kept his mother happy.
The eight-year-old was extraordinarily talented, but refused to play his mother’s game. She was trying to get him to ‘show more enthusiasm’ when he was auditioning for commercials. He could have done it, but refused to cooperate because of her attempts to force him into a mold. I tried to explain this to the mother, but she was incapable of listening. In spite of the fact that the family desperately needed money, she was so obsessed with gaining control over the boy’s mind that she prevented him from using his talent to make commercials.
He also worked with me on a complicated, dramatic film audition. I was treading delicately and only mentioned that the scene was ‘emotional.’ He looked me straight in the eye and asked, ‘Do you want me to cry? Because I can if you want me to…’ I replied that, given the situation, the character would probably break down. So he said, ‘Give me a minute.’ I did, and he produced a perfect reading with absolutely genuine tears. I’ve never seen anything like it, before or since…
Next time, I’ll discuss how, over the years, I’ve searched for an effective way to help kids enter into the acting process.
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