We
have to be as clever as rats to survive.
-Maureen Stapleton
It’s hard to know where to start when one starts to talk about acting. I
did my first professional acting at ten years of age. I was a successful child
Powers model, with covers on Life, McCall’s, and other popular magazines of
the 40s and 50s. One day my mother received a call from my agent to bring me in
for an interview for an acting job. Dumont TV was going to produce an
experimental TV show. It was to be broadcast from M.I.T. in Boston to the
ballroom of the Statler Hotel. The purpose, I believe, was to convince merchants
that TV had commercial possibilities. So Jesse White, Phil Kramer, Bill Lynn,
Hilly Parks, and other veteran actors took part in this half-hour play. They
were teachers to me. Needless to say, at that time I had only my imagination for
technique. Make-believe was a child’s best friend and so it was easy - it
worked and I loved it.
Shortly thereafter I began voice training: elocution, good speech projection,
voice placement, cold reading. I began radio work, standing on boxes to reach
the microphones. Along with the voice lessons came singing lessons, tap, ballet,
and jazz dance classes. An actor, no matter how young, was expected to be able
to perform in all disciplines - not “so-so” but excellent! That was then.
While I was acting on a Hallmark Theatre (half-hour, black & white, with
sets drawn with a magic marker-type pen on white gesso board) I met and fell in
love with James Dean. I was the co-star of the program and he, the bit player.
We talked acting during breaks and about how dedicated we were. He was desperate
to audition for the Actors Studio. As I had been invited to join, I knew some
people he could call. He got in. He worked hard and we compared teachers. Acting
was “our life”. I never became a full member of the Studio.
I was co-starring with Melvyn Douglas on Broadway in Time Out For Ginger. Mel
was my teacher. His comedy timing was impeccable. (See Ninotchka with Garbo. The
restaurant scene is classic comedy acting at its finest.) He shared his
expertise with me.
Before I started Major Barbara, with Charles Laughton directing, I began
intense studies with Stella Adler - which continued until a short time before
her death a few years ago. Lots of lessons were the “norm” for all of us
young performers. We would do our academic work at the Professional Children’s
School, give our performances on radio, TV, and stage, and work on our craft. We
were professional performers. Forget big paychecks - at least by today’s
standards. Money for lessons was the concern. We loved what we did. We were on
time for rehearsal. We took direction - knew our lines (and everyone else’s).
We wanted to be better than the competition. We wanted to be great actors.
My series, Naked City, had extraordinary guest stars: Walter Matthau, Dustin
Hoffman, Claude Rains, Maureen Stapleton, Bob Duvall. After my scenes were shot
I often hung around in the shadows, watching them work - knowing I would take
away a gem from true masters. I read everyone: Bobby Lewis, Harold Clurman,
David Craig, any of the fine directors, to help stimulate my dreams.
Acting is hard work. “Actors,” real actors, must be brave and have
courage beyond measure. They must fight to develop their craft. An actor’s
pledge is to communicate. And in moments of truth, they ask themselves what are
the goals - fame, money, power, adulation, or greatness?
Some actors today really like it easy. I heard one actress say she was
thrilled to have had corrective eye surgery: reading the teleprompter was
easier...and at a salary I’m sure a lot of people would find generous. Many
actors don’t go outside themselves to seek out roles that produce discovery.
They play parts that reflect themselves. “Creativity” doesn’t seem de
riguer. To add a characteristic to a character is unusual. In-depth analysis of
the material seems unnecessary. Money and fame drives performers rather than
work and recollection. Perks become the thing most desirable rather than the
grand satisfaction of a part beautifully realized.
Some contemporary actors have little technique, but still they are rewarded
with baskets of money and favors for just showing up. Ratings and box office
earnings dictate dedication. Sadly, this diminishes the director’s authority.
I recall a young actor telling a director, “Don’t direct me,” when the
director asked if he would take a small step closer to a table. Good actors that
study and grow will have longevity. It takes perseverance, discipline, freedom,
passion, and as Lord Olivier would say, “Radiance.”
The reality of these attitudes is sad enough. More troubling is the search
for reasons as to why it’s all come to this sad pass. We can all site
anecdotal evidence about lack of pride and dedication in any number of
contemporary occupations. Whether it’s in fast food emporium or a Rodeo Drive
boutique, we’ve experienced too many examples or lack of preparation and
caring. We can’t control either of these arenas, but we do have a
responsibility to address our own backyard.
