Acting in Film

by Michael Caine

  PRACTICE WITH DANGER AND YOU LOSE IT

  Do not use rehearsals to give your all as an actor. In theatre, a director will often encourage you to get to performance level well before opening night. In film, it's no good hitting those high notes before the take because film acting is about danger. If you practice with danger, you lose it. If you rehearse a risk, it is no longer a risk. You also deprive the other actor of his spontaneous response to that extra something you are going to zing in there when the camera rolls. You should only take that ultimate risk, provide that real surprise, when someone says "action." Then, by all means, push yourself a little further than you want to go.

  In theatre, it's natural to worry about what the other actors are giving you on stage because an important part of live theatre is that immediate give and take. But in film, other actors' performances really are not your concern. If the other actor isn't giving you what you want, act as though he were. If you feel the wrong actor has been cast in the part, recast him in your mind. Other actors may feel the same about you! Try to hang on to your contribution without being distracted. I know how difficult this is because the only time I ever "dry" is when I get over-fascinated by bad acting. But you really don't know what the director has in mind, and he's the guv'nor here. He may end up using all the shots of you reacting and just use the other fellow's part as a voice off camera. Or it may never have been his intention to have you both in the shot. Regardless of his original intention, he may change his mind during the editing. So always act and react as if you were getting the ideal response because you never know what's going to be used once the editing begins. The director's going to do what's best for the picture, and if you have been at your best, you may find that you get to be shown in the final cut.

  When a scene is blocked to everyone's satisfaction, marks are made on the floor, or strategic twigs are placed on the ground if you are outdoors, or you will be required to line yourself up with a fixed object because you must end up either in that preordained spot or else be out of focus. Obviously an actor can't look down to see if he has hit his mark, so the way to ensure accuracy is to stand on the mark, then say your line at performance pace while walking backward to an earlier position. When you go forward from that earlier position, saying the same line, you wind up on the mark. If you practice the rhythm of this a few times, you won't go wrong. You won't forget your line, either, because words and movement will be married in your head, like a song and dance.

  HANNAH AND HER SISTERS

  Directed by Woody Allen. Orion, 1985.

  THE STAND-IN

  Once the blocking is fixed, the lighting technician goes to work. At this point, you get out of the way and a stand-in who has been watching your moves during rehearsal takes over. Sometimes lighting a scene can take an hour and a half to two hours, and no one expects the actor who's in the scene to stand there that long. My stand-in is usually a big 6'2" blond guy whose face is the same height from the floor as mine to ensure that when I get back on the set my face won't be in the dark. Stand-ins will sometimes get you a cup of coffee; my stand-in is a particular friend of mine. But stand-ins can on occasion send you rushing out to look at yourself in the mirror. I've been in movies now for close to twentyseven years, and when I first started, they'd say, "This is your stand-in," and there'd be this great-looking young guy standing there. Eventually, one morning you come in and they say, "This is your stand-in," and there's this old fellow standing there with a bald head, wearing a wig.

  In America, I've even had a woman stand-in. Now, in the States in particular, you get a lot of women in the cinema. The days of all-male crews are over. When I worked with Alan Alda, who's a great feminist, it was the first time I'd worked with a female first assistant director. I did a double take when I worked on a picture in Los Angeles and there was an electrician who looked just like Julie Christie. It was really strange to see this beautiful girl walking by, carrying a lamp, with great big muscles in her arms. Needless to say, she did a marvelous job.

  The last event before you shoot is a final makeup and hair check. This is the part that the assistant director always tries to rush along because if people are selfindulgent, this can take up a lot of time. But, remember, it is your face up there on that screen, so be firm if you think you need attention. A good makeup artist will always be keeping a sharp eye on you anyway because, after all, it's their reputation up there as well.

  RELAX AND BE NERVOUS

  At this point, if you haven't prepared properly, your nerves may threaten to swamp you. But because you've reduced your fear of the unknown by preparing as much as possible, you should be left with a healthy amount of nervous energy-useful energy that can be channeled into performance. One way of releasing that nervous energy productively is to experiment with various relaxation and focusing exercises.

  Here's a little number I do before a long take: take a slow deep breath in, then bend over and let your arms dangle, really relaxed. Straighten up slowly, breathing out gently and evenly. This exercise relaxes you, helps concentration and gives you control. If you are going to be shooting a scene where you need extra tuning up, just inhale and exhale quickly for a short time-it gets the oxygen to the brain. You feel and look like an absolute twit, panting away, but you find you get a rush to your head, your eyes begin to sparkle a bit, and you're ready to play an energetic scene, mental or physical. Just be careful not to overdo the panting or you will hyperventilate and pass out.

  Usually I play the character who terrifies other people, so in Sleuth, it was rather an unfamiliar experience when my character thought he was going to be killed and was abjectly terrified himself. Instead of dealing with my natural nervousness about the scene, I purposely let my nerves take over. I was surprised at the extent of them. It was relatively simple to become a gibbering wreck. Larry Olivier knew immediately what was happening with me and played up to it, so on that occasion my fears helped me out. But the way I figure it, generally I need all the help I can get to calm down.

  In film, you make your actions and reactions realities whenever you can. If you're supposed to be breathless from running, get breathless from running. On stage, technique can often fool an audience: you can act as though you are breathless from having run ten laps, you can drop a coffee cup and the audience will believe you are anxious. But in film, you cannot fool the camera with technique. If I've got a long sequence in which I'm supposed to be nervous, I avoid my relaxation ploys and go and drink a cup of coffee, which strings the nerves along. Drink two cups, and your hand will start to shake; five or six cups, and your lips will twitch.

  But whether you're supposed to be tense or relaxed in a scene, hang on to the knowledge that everyone is there to get the greatest performance from you that you've ever given. Don't be intimidated by anyone. Everybody's on your side. They all want you to be great. I've produced movies and I can tell you that if I put you in a movie, I want you to be great, even more than you want to be great.

  The electrician will scramble up on the catwalks to set the light so that there's no glint in your eye; you've got seventy or eighty people concentrating on getting your best face on that screen and helping you say the line right. You may think, "I've got to do something, otherwise I'm not going to be interesting." But if you can attain that basic relaxation, that's all you need. Just block everybody out and relax. No one's going to kill you; no one's going to upset you. Everything is being done to help you do it right, because film acting is bloody difficult work, and everybody knows that.

  ®1979 Warner Bros Inc.

  BEYOND THE POSEIDON ADVENTURE

  Directed by Irwin Allen. Warner Brothers, 1979. 1 .1 - 11 -.11

  Pictured with Sally Fuld.

  The

  Take

  "Acting is not a competition; everything must be done for the good of the film or else everybody loses."

  CLOSE-UPS AND CONTINUITY

  Film people admire professionals. Given a choice between two actors (all else being equal), pro
fessionalism will be the deciding factor. Competence is a crucial, basic quality treasured far more than erratic brilliance. It implies an understanding of the extra disciplines that filming demands. You've got to know how to help the camera. In a close-up, the camera lens magnifies your actions, so you have to know how to scale down the action of your performance without losing the intensity as the shot gets tighter. The film actor knows how to reduce a performance physically but not mentally. In fact, oddly enough, your mind should work even harder in a close-up than it does during other shots because in the close-up, the performance is all in your eyes; you can't use the rest of your body to express yourself.

  The Eyes Have It

  When you are the on-camera actor in a close-up, never shift your focus from one eye to the other. Sounds odd, doesn't it? But when you look at something, one of your eyes leads. So during a close-up, be especially careful not to change whichever eye you are leading with. It's an infinitesimal thing, but noticeable on the screen. The camera misses nothing! Another tip from my own experience: when it is my close-up being shot, I pick the off-camera actor's eye that is closest to the camera and look at it with my eye that is furthest from the camera. This turns my face more squarely toward the camera, so as much of my full face as possible is in the shot.

  01971 Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Irx.

  GET CARTER

  Directed by Michael Hodges. MGM, 1971.

  And I don't blink. Blinking makes your character seem weak. Try it yourself: say the same line twice, first blinking and then not blinking. I practiced not blinking to excess when I first made this discovery, went around not blinking all the time and probably disconcerted a lot of people. But by not blinking you will appear strong on screen. Remember: on film that eye can be eight feet across.

  I emphasize the eyes because that's where it all happens, especially in a close-up. Don't make faces. What I call "pulling faces" happens when an actor is insecure and starts signaling to the audience. He sends messages, facial twitches, that indicate "This is what you're supposed to feel," or "This is where you're supposed to laugh." An audience picks up on that and will resent it. They don't want to be nudged into a reaction: they want to react spontaneously to what appears to be spontaneous. Just rely on your character's thought processes and your face will behave normally. It's no good practicing in front of a mirror because in the mirror is you-someone you've been seeing all your life-someone who's got nothing to do with who you are in the movie. You are someone else.

  The Set-Up

  During a take, the camera does not necessarily physically move closer to or away from you, so it's important to ask beforehand what kind of shot is being set up. Ask so that you'll know how to gauge the scale of your performance. Here's a rough guide: in the master shot (or long shot) you can afford to be broad; in the medium shot, cut the size of the action to half; and in the close shot, cut the size to half again. Also, you need to know what kind of shot is being set up so you'll know what will be included in the frame. You may be fiddling with your glasses in your lap during a long shot, but if you're still fiddling during the medium shot, when you're not visible below the waist, everyone will say, "What's going on down there below the frame?" You can fling your arms about in a long shot, but not in a close-up, and some directors go in for really massive close-ups. If you think you're in that kind of situation, ask, "How much freedom do I have here?" If the director says you can't move an inch, then you can't move an inch. In the old days you could tell what kind of shot was being set up by the kind of lens on the camera; they used to put a small device on the camera that said "40mm" so you were clued in. Now they've got these great zoom lenses, so I might still be fiddling with my glasses and not know they've changed into a close-up. When in doubt, ask!

  THE ITALIAN JOB

  Directed by Peter Collinson. Paramount, 1969.

  The camera doesn't necessarily move toward you during a shot; but if they put the camera unusually close, I suggest you get worried-especially if it's a small, hand-held camera. These cameras are very mobile and are, therefore, useful in confined spaces; but if you get too close to them, you move into the curve of the lens. The lens pulls your face back around the curve, so that on the screen you've got a great big nose and your ears go back as though you're riding a motor bike into a strong wind. They used to use lenses like that in topless photography. Unless the director has that effect in mind, I suggest you don't move any closer to the camera at such times.

  Off-Camera

  Of course, you're not always the center of attention. Sometimes you're the off-camera actor. Then it's important to know how to cooperate in the other actor's close-up, when you'll be feeding him his cues off-camera. Some actors let up on their performances when they are safely out of shot, but that approach doesn't do them any service because it will affect the scene as a whole. Acting is not a competition; everything must be done for the good of the film or else everybody loses-it is not about making yourself seem better than the other guy. When you're the off-camera actor, play with the same intensity as when you are visible. To help the on-camera actor, stand close to the cameraman and get your head as near the lens as possible. This brings the other actor to the most advantageous position for him, which is with his face angled well toward the lens while looking at you. If you were acting with Orson Welles, you could have gone home during his close-up. Orson never wanted anyone in his sight line, never even wanted anyone reading him cues. He did his scenes alone, allowing exactly the right pauses for the other actor's lines. Another actor would have disturbed Orson's concentration. He preferred to imagine that other actor and concentrate on his own bits, rather than be thrown by a less-than-perfect performance. And, in truth, few actors are as good off-camera as on; often they even fluff their lines. Don't be one of those.

  ALFIE

  Directed by Lewis Gilbert. Paramount, 1966.

  Pictured wirb Shelley Win ten.

  Physical Continuity

  There is, of course, the continuity person who notes every movement, gesture, and detail of costume that occurs in the master shot, so that all of it can be duplicated in succeeding shots. But it's part of a film actor's job not to confuse the issue. I've already said how important it is to not invent fiddly business that makes it tougher on everybody, and that definitely includes smoking. Never smoke in a long shot. When the time comes for the close-up, where did you take that puff? When did you change hands? How long was the ash? Start getting complicated during the master, and the whole scene may go out the window when they come to the close-up. Time and time again you'll hear some actor who is desperate to be creative say, "I'll undo my buttons while he's talking and then I'll do this and then I'll do that." And when it's time for the close-up, the director will say, "Where exactly do you do that?" And the actor will have to say, "I don't know." Then the master will have to be shot again, and the actor will have wasted precious time and money and will definitely have reduced his chances of further employment.

  Emotional Continuity

  In addition to being aware of visual continuity, the truly professional film actor has to be aware of emotional continuity. In the theatre, a play flows along in sequence, allowing each actor to feel the emotional build and creating the company's sense of the whole. In the cinema the end result may be more realistic, but the process is definitely more artificial. Films are rarely shot in sequence. They are shot in sequence whenever possible, but economics has a way of interfering with that scheme. If the whole unit is on an expensive location, all the location scenes will be shot first, no matter when they come in the script; it's just cheaper that way. If the last scene in a picture takes place outside, you can count on the fact that it will get shot first and then you will move to the studio to shoot all the scenes leading up to it. You might shoot the master in the morning, then rush out in the afternoon to shoot another scene because suddenly the sun came out. Then you have to come back some other time and continue with the morning scene, then perhaps do the medium shot and clos
e-up a week later. The director will tell you what he wants in the close-up because that's his job. But it's your job to remember the emotional nature of the master in complete detail. This requires great concentration; you have to summon up a sense memory of the scene in wide shot. If you prepared properly in the first place-that is, married your voice and movement by moving backward while saying your line, then forward to hit the mark-it's all there in your memory, waiting to be summoned. All that initial work is worthwhile because in the close-up, you not only have to repeat what you did in the master, you've got to do it a lot better.

  DRESSED TO KILL

  Directed by Brian de Palma. Filmways, 1980.

  If during the studio scenes, there is a fight sequence and you do it brilliantly but rip your coat, continuity says, "We've got to do the fight again because you don't have a ripped coat in the scene we've already shot." You even worry about cutting your face shaving. For six weeks you can't sit in the sun on your day off because your skin color will change-no sun for you because they're wandering about with Polaroids, comparing you with the previous scene. So you sit still and try not to change.