Find a quiet spot, turn the page, and let’s see what this story has been hiding 🌙 ✦ “I knew someone would ask that,” Harrington said.
“And I knew The Godfather would be dragged into it.
But if you’re going to name the three actors everyone notices first, why forget Lee Strasberg?
He appears in that film too, and he was one of the great teachers associated with American method acting.” The room laughed.
Harrington let the laughter pass, then turned serious.
“So let’s talk about the strengths and weaknesses of both approaches.
But before we do, I want you to remember one sentence.” He moved to the blackboard and wrote: There is no best acting.
There is only the right acting for the moment.
“Compared with immersive work, technical acting may not always dig as deeply into a role’s inner life.
But that does not mean technical actors do not analyze character.
That is the first point.
Psychological immersion requires talent, emotional availability, and the ability to imagine a different person’s inner world.
For young actors, or actors whose lives have been relatively undisturbed, that can be very difficult.” He tapped the chalk against the board.
“At that stage, technical training can be the better way to sharpen the instrument.
You learn control.
You learn repeatability.
You learn how a camera reads the face.
Then, step by step, you adjust according to your own nature.
But if you rely on technique without enough control, your performances can become repetitive.
In plain language, every character slowly turns into you.” A few students laughed quietly, clearly thinking of specific actors.
Harrington ignored it.
“But is immersion perfect?
Of course not.
Three major practitioners help illustrate very different relationships between actor, character, and audience: Konstantin Stanislavski, Bertolt Brecht, and Antonin Artaud.” He wrote the names one by one.
After Stanislavski, he drew a dash and added: objectives / truth.
“Stanislavski asked actors to work through circumstances, objectives, actions, and psychological truth so the character’s world could appear truthful before the audience.
Brecht, by contrast, wanted distance.
Do not drown in the role.
Let the audience see the choices.
Keep a conscious relationship with the people watching.” After Brecht, he wrote: distance / audience.
“As for Artaud,” Harrington said, smiling, “he pushed performance toward physical intensity and sensory impact.
He wanted theater to reach the nerves before the intellect.” After Artaud, he wrote: body / shock.
The classroom burst into laughter.
“I’m not reducing him to a slogan,” Harrington said, raising one hand.
“The point is that performance can work through more than polite psychology.
Body, sound, light, rhythm, pressure – all of it can affect an audience.
But whatever path you take, you need control.
If an actor cannot return to himself after the work is done, the work starts taking more than it gives.” He spread both hands.
“Actors tell all kinds of stories about personal rituals for leaving a role behind.
Most are probably exaggerated.
The useful part is the idea: know how to come back.” Laughter rolled through the room again.
Then the bell rang outside.
“That’s it for today.” Harrington ended exactly when the bell rang.
“If you want to compare external technique and psychological immersion in practice, watch A Streetcar Named Desire.
Vivien Leigh gives a classic technical performance.
Marlon Brando gives a classic immersive performance.
The sparks between those approaches make the film a textbook.” Class ended there.
Adrian, still hungry for more, hesitated only a moment before hurrying to the door and catching up with Harrington in the hall.
“Sir.
Mr.
Harrington.” The man turned.
“You are?” “I sat in on your class,” Adrian said.
“I liked it.
It was funny, clear, and genuinely useful.” Harrington smiled but kept walking.
Adrian followed.
“I noticed something.
You analyzed the strengths and weaknesses of technique and immersion, but you avoided the original question.
Which approach is better for an actor?” “Did I?” Harrington sounded casual.
Adrian did not let it stop him.
“Based on the way you explained it, you clearly value immersive work.
You admitted that if an actor can control himself, that approach can make the character more striking.” “I have a question for you, then.” Harrington glanced at him.
“Your name?” “Adrian Vale.
Adrian is fine.” “Very well, Adrian.
Why are you asking which approach is better?
What are you trying to achieve?” Adrian froze for half a beat.
After a little thought, he answered, “To make the character more real.” Harrington made a small sound that was neither agreement nor disagreement.
His eyes stayed forward.
His pace did not slow.
The faint smile on his face made it clear he found the answer insufficient.
Adrian scratched his head and began thinking quickly.
What did Harrington actually mean?
He ran back through the lecture, through the comparisons, through the line on the board.
Ten seconds passed, and he still did not have it.
The hallway doors were already close.
Then the sentence flashed through his mind again.
There is no best acting.
There is only the right acting for the moment.
Another phrase from his previous life surfaced beside it, similar but not quite the same.
Adrian nearly spoke, then stopped.
Instinct told him he was still missing one piece.
As they stepped through the doors, memories from school theater came rushing up, followed by every performance he had given since arriving in Los Angeles: the bank, the auditions, Friends, even the improvised scenes that had caught Frederick’s eye.
“To deliver the character’s emotion to the audience as completely as possible,” Adrian said.
Harrington stopped.
He turned and looked at Adrian with visible surprise.
“I once heard a sentence close to what you’re saying,” Adrian continued, excitement building as the pieces snapped together.
“Even a flawed film can contain a truthful performance.” He was smart, and he had lived two lives in two very different worlds.
That gave him odd angles of observation.
Add the stage experience from high school, the last few months in Hollywood, and Harrington’s pressure in the hallway, and the abstract idea finally turned into something usable.
“We talk about technique and immersion because we want to play a role better.
But what does better mean?
It means transmitting the character’s emotions to the audience.
Making them laugh or cry with the character.
Making them feel what the character feels.
That’s the actor’s real objective.
Technical work, immersive work, all of it is just a means.” By the end, he could hear the excitement in his own voice.
Harrington studied him from head to toe.
“Have you had formal training?” Adrian hesitated.
In the end, he chose the truth.
“I’m not a USC student, Mr.
Harrington.
I’m auditing.
I’m an actor.
A very new one.
I did a lot of stage work in high school, but film and television are different.
After my first real screen role, I came here because I wanted something more systematic.” Harrington’s surprise deepened.
So did his appreciation.
After a moment, he patted Adrian on the shoulder and gestured for him to follow.
“That was a good summary,” Harrington said once they sat on a bench beneath the trees outside.
“Every form is only a means.
The objective is to communicate the character’s feelings and world to the audience.” He leaned back.
“Nothing stays fixed forever.
Art changes as society changes.
Before the fifties and sixties, people spoke of technical acting and method acting as if they were sharply divided.
Now the boundary is far less clean.
Take Meryl Streep.
She has already accumulated an absurd number of Oscar nominations.
Why do you think the Academy keeps noticing her?” “I’ve seen Sophie’s Choice and The Bridges of Madison County,” Adrian said, thinking back.
“She’s a great actor.
Those are completely different women.
One is broken and fragile.
The other is restrained, warm, and strong.” “If you study her process, you’ll find that she can spend months researching and designing a role.
If the character is based on a real person, she studies the accent, the gestures, the smallest habits.
That belongs to technique.
But once filming begins, she can surrender herself to the role with the intensity Strasberg valued.
That belongs to the Method.” Harrington nodded.
“That is why I keep saying there is no best acting.
There is only the acting suited to the role, the project, the actor, and the moment.
If you can move the audience on screen, unsettle them, wound them, or delight them, then you are doing the work.” He repeated Adrian’s idea back to him.
“Technique, method, theory, instinct.
They are all means.
To become a good actor, perhaps even a great one, you will have to do many things.
But first you must understand the difference between means and ends.
Know what matters most, and know what can be discarded when it stops serving the scene.” Harrington checked the time and stood.
“I have another appointment.
We’ll leave it there for today.” “Could I ask you questions privately in the future, Mr.
Harrington?” “Of course.” Harrington smiled.
“You’re bright and quick.
I enjoy talking with young actors who are actually thinking.
Even after I stop substituting, you may come find me.
But only for this month.
After New Year’s, I go back to Britain.” “Thank you, Mr.
Harrington.” Adrian tightened his fist at his side, feeling as if he had just found a door he had not known how to name.
✦ ✦ ✦ Ready for more?
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS TheBacklot Thank you for reading.
I hope this chapter drew you further into the story.
Stick around, because there’s still a lot waiting just ahead.