I was struck, as I started reading Guskins How to Stop Acting, with the marked similarities

between my own struggles as an actor and those of the several actors that he mentioned in the first
two chapters. I recently received a DVD copy of my high schools production of The Importance of
Being Earnest from a friend named Kathy Mier. Having never had the chance to watch our rendition
of the show, I assumed that I would cringe and groan as I witnessed the theatrical ineptitude that
would doubtless characterize my performance as Algernon. However, when I reached the end of the
DVD, I came to a startling and discouraging realization. I was a much better actor two years ago than
I am now.
As I read, a line jumped off of the page and struck me squarely on the jaw. Our
subconscious is inaccessible to our consciousness. We cannot enter into that realm. If for any reason
we do penetrate it, then the subconscious becomes conscious and dies. As an actor, Ive lost the
ability to react subconsciously on the stage. I stylize performances until they become mechanical and
sterile. I noted, while flipping through Cameron Holloways photographs of our performance of Les
Miserables, that I never changed a jot from night to night. In fact, I often mistook two different
photos of myself for the same photo. My performance was entirely static; I created a machine instead
of a character. I failed to connect with the show in any meaningful way. I blamed my failure to
explore the role on Combeferres relative insignificance; I assumed that if I received a lead role
that I would recapture the spark that Id found in previous shows.
However, I encountered the same problem during rehearsals and performances of Dancing at
Lughnasa. I failed, almost entirely, to connect with Gerry in any meaningful way. This was
especially discouraging when I considered that he was an easier character to relate to than most that
Id had the chance to portray in the past. Gerry was not wildly different from myself. He attempted to
repair broken relationships and defuse high-stress situations by using humor and charm rather than
acknowledging the problem and seeking forgiveness. I have often found that I have similar

tendencies. Therefore, I should have had no problems getting into Gerrys head; penetrating Gerrys
subconscious. However, that was where the trouble lay. I was determined to invade the characters
subconscious, and by so doing managed to kill any spark of humanity that indwelt my performance.
Gerry became a puppet, and I became a puppeteer. I stood outside the scene and pulled the right
string at the right time.
I was also struck by Guskins claim that the actor cannot use fear in a performance. I have
often noticed that, when utilizing Stanislavskis emotional recall technique, I inadvertently dredge
up a memory that is laden with fear. Whenever I do so, the fear takes over. I cease to be a character, I
become John Laurie, John Laurie is afraid, and John Laurie falls apart on the stage. Ill return to the
Gerry case: I found it very difficult to connect with Chrissie, played by Alex Soberick. I had no idea
how to relate to a broken woman who I had dishonored and then abandoned. Worse still, I had been
gone for thirteen months. I knew that the interactions should be strained to some degree, I understood
that there would be sexual tension between the two characters, and I understood that any
conversations that revolved around Michael would stir up deep regret. The nearest memory that I had
available was a painful reunion with a girl who I had dated for three years. I had served as a bad
influence in her life, and I knew it. However, the circumstances surrounding that relationship were
troubling at best. When I evoked that memory in an attempt to elicit an emotional response in my
character, I found that there was a great deal of fear interwoven with the tension, the sorrow, the
regret, and the anger. The fear quickly took over, I distanced myself from the character, and the
scenes with Chrissie became much less dynamic. I was forced to return to sterility and mechanics.
The only detail that I struggled with was Guskins claim (which he himself admitted was a
controversial one) that the actor should continue exploring after rehearsals and during performances.
I feel that this is an inconsiderate practice. Certainly, by so doing you might cause your character to
pop or you might discover some new depth in a scene, but you cripple any actor with whom you

are cast who espouses any method or system. My objection is best illustrated using an example.
State Route 79 is bordered by woods on both sides. During the summer, those woods are filled with
all manner of birds. I am an amateur birder. As I drive down SR79, from time to time Ill espy a bird
that Id like to get a closer look at. However, traffic is moving and so must I. If I were to come to a
dead halt in the middle of the highway to get a glimpse of a bird, I would hamper other drivers. The
laws of traffic forbid my impeding traffic; I am to move along with the other cars so that we can all
reach our destination. A performance is the same way. Without synchronization and cooperation, no
one gets where they want to go. During rehearsals, we are free to experiment. I can come to a dead
halt in my own driveway without impeding anyone. That is my space. However, as rehearsals go on, I
back out of the driveway onto surface streets, find a major road, and finally merge with traffic on the
highway. Cooperation becomes more and more necessary. And to cooperate with methodical actors, I
feel that I must be a stable character. They have to know whats coming, at least to some degree.
G.K. Chesterton once wrote, The object of opening the mind, as of opening the mouth, is to shut it
again on something solid. Otherwise it is more akin to a sewer, taking in all things and rejecting
nothing. I feel that, certainly, there are a myriad of ways to deliver any line, none of which is
inherently right. However, for the sake of your fellow players, I feel that you ought to set upon one
after a time and utilize it consistently. I might well be wrong; I might be misinterpreting Guskins
call. However, as I read it, it seems to be an inconsiderate practice.
All in all, I enjoyed Guskins book and look forward to employing, then forgetting (method
being the very ball and chain that Im attempting to get away from), the techniques that he describes
therein!